Ruffles
Title: Ruffles
Author: SheBit
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Viggo/Orli
Rating: 12
Disclaimer: These boys own themselves and I'm sure they only get up to this kind of mischief in my own fevered imagination.
A/N: Today (20/10) is Viggo's 46th birthday, so I wrote this in his honour. Sorry the challenge has changed, but I wrote this before the change and was holding off on posting until his birthday.
Ruffles. That's all there was. He'd opened the door, and there they were: lime green ruffles.
Somewhere above the ruffles was a face, framed by dark curls and sporting an insane grin. The curls were competing with the ruffles for dominance. They were losing.
The ruffles looked him up and down, taking in his frayed jeans and faded t-shirt.
"You're not exactly dressed for going out, man." The ruffles spoke.
"There's a reason for that. And I could say the same of you." He was walking away from the door now, back into the safety of his home, hiding a smile with his turned back. The ruffles followed, closing the door behind them.
"We have to go out, it's your birthday."
"I hardly see how turning forty-six is a reason for celebration." The dim apartment was suddenly illuminated by the dazzling fridge light as he removed two bottles of cheap American beer and tossed one to his guest.
"You're forty-six and still have both your hips and all your own teeth... well, most of them."
This time he didn't hide his smile.
"All right, I give in."
"You'll come out and celebrate?"
"No, I'll take the bait and ask what the hell you're wearing."
The ruffles looked vaguely disappointed at their failure to coax the man into painting the town red... and blue and green and a few other colours he couldn't name but was sure his friend could. He'd known it wouldn't be that easy. Viggo's question did however provide the opportunity to prance about and show off his marvellous shirt, which he did with great satisfaction, running his fingers through the citrus ruffles.
"Don't you like it? I wore it especially, for old time's sake."
"To be honest, Orlando, I though you'd grown out of those things - physically and emotionally."
"You never grow out of ruffles, old man." Orlando saw his friend wince visibly. Apparently what had once been a term of affection was now a little too close to the truth. Could the great Viggo - artist, poet, free spirit - finally be feeling his age?
"Sorry."
"That's ok. Funny how I suddenly feel much older than I did a week ago." Old. Where had his life gone? When had it passed him by?
"You're not that old. I mean, you're forty-six - that's pretty young, really."
Viggo smiled again at the boy's sudden change of tack. A few moments ago it had been hip replacement jokes; now it was reassurances that he wasn't going to be put to pasture yet - or sent to the glue factory.
"We could just stay in, celebrate quietly?" The boy was standing close now, a hand on his friend's arm. reassuring again. Or something else?
That bright glow again as another two beers were removed from the fridge, fizzing gently as they opened. Soft bubbles on Viggo's lips. Cool and refreshing. Then lips. Still soft, but warm and just as refreshing.
In no time at all the lime green ruffles were discarded in a dark corner and as the 'celebrations' continued Viggo realised that, though he may not be twenty any more, he certainly wasn't old.
Author: SheBit
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Viggo/Orli
Rating: 12
Disclaimer: These boys own themselves and I'm sure they only get up to this kind of mischief in my own fevered imagination.
A/N: Today (20/10) is Viggo's 46th birthday, so I wrote this in his honour. Sorry the challenge has changed, but I wrote this before the change and was holding off on posting until his birthday.
Ruffles. That's all there was. He'd opened the door, and there they were: lime green ruffles.
Somewhere above the ruffles was a face, framed by dark curls and sporting an insane grin. The curls were competing with the ruffles for dominance. They were losing.
The ruffles looked him up and down, taking in his frayed jeans and faded t-shirt.
"You're not exactly dressed for going out, man." The ruffles spoke.
"There's a reason for that. And I could say the same of you." He was walking away from the door now, back into the safety of his home, hiding a smile with his turned back. The ruffles followed, closing the door behind them.
"We have to go out, it's your birthday."
"I hardly see how turning forty-six is a reason for celebration." The dim apartment was suddenly illuminated by the dazzling fridge light as he removed two bottles of cheap American beer and tossed one to his guest.
"You're forty-six and still have both your hips and all your own teeth... well, most of them."
This time he didn't hide his smile.
"All right, I give in."
"You'll come out and celebrate?"
"No, I'll take the bait and ask what the hell you're wearing."
The ruffles looked vaguely disappointed at their failure to coax the man into painting the town red... and blue and green and a few other colours he couldn't name but was sure his friend could. He'd known it wouldn't be that easy. Viggo's question did however provide the opportunity to prance about and show off his marvellous shirt, which he did with great satisfaction, running his fingers through the citrus ruffles.
"Don't you like it? I wore it especially, for old time's sake."
"To be honest, Orlando, I though you'd grown out of those things - physically and emotionally."
"You never grow out of ruffles, old man." Orlando saw his friend wince visibly. Apparently what had once been a term of affection was now a little too close to the truth. Could the great Viggo - artist, poet, free spirit - finally be feeling his age?
"Sorry."
"That's ok. Funny how I suddenly feel much older than I did a week ago." Old. Where had his life gone? When had it passed him by?
"You're not that old. I mean, you're forty-six - that's pretty young, really."
Viggo smiled again at the boy's sudden change of tack. A few moments ago it had been hip replacement jokes; now it was reassurances that he wasn't going to be put to pasture yet - or sent to the glue factory.
"We could just stay in, celebrate quietly?" The boy was standing close now, a hand on his friend's arm. reassuring again. Or something else?
That bright glow again as another two beers were removed from the fridge, fizzing gently as they opened. Soft bubbles on Viggo's lips. Cool and refreshing. Then lips. Still soft, but warm and just as refreshing.
In no time at all the lime green ruffles were discarded in a dark corner and as the 'celebrations' continued Viggo realised that, though he may not be twenty any more, he certainly wasn't old.