"Wandering Eyes" - Tom Cruise/Orlando Bloom - G - RPS
Title: Wandering Eyes
Author: Lemur (Lemur710@aol.com)
Type: RPS
Pairing: Tom Cruise/Orlando Bloom
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: This didn’t happen. Ever. I don’t know these people.
Feedback: That’d be great. Especially constructive criticism.
Archive: List archives; otherwise, just ask. :)
Summary: Tom Cruise visits the set of Elizabethtown.
Author’s Notes: Written in 45 minutes for the contrelamontre “Wandering” challenge. This is not a pairing I’m used to, so this is entirely experimental. I wanted to see if I could write Tom Cruise and/or a truly repressed homosexual. I’m not sure I figured out the answer. ;)
Wandering Eyes
By Lemur
Tom gripped Orlando’s hand and grinned in the way he knew people called mega-watt. He was jazzed to be here, excited to see where his money and his name were going, and thrilled to meet this young man he so often heard called The Next him.
“Hey, how ya doin’, pal?” he asked, and slapped his hand against Orlando’s shoulder. He noted distantly that the arm was firm, muscles making it feel as though he’d tapped his palm against warm marble beneath fabric.
Orlando ducked his head humbly and his smile was pure shy-boy. “I’m great. Really great. How are you, man? It’s great that you’re coming by.”
Tom moved on by and shook hands with Cameron, the man behind the camera, and the woman who stood beside the director. He heard their names, but didn’t attempt to keep them in mind. “So what are we shooting today?” His voice boomed loudly, enthusiastically and he smiled again. He saw his energy invigorate the people around him in the way they perked up and their eyes brightened. He followed Cameron out into the quaint ballroom that served as their set today, listening as he explained the scene, the final touch of romance between the leads, the sweet backdrop to the connecting kisses between man and woman. Cameron spoke poetically and Tom heard him, nodding at each appropriate spot. He knew people were watching and pictures were being snapped, so he was careful not to let his interested, enthusiastic expression fall. People would analyze his face and they could make it mean whatever they wanted about this film or his life. That’s what people did. He needed to look content and calm at all times.
As Cameron spoke of the humanity and heart of the scene, Tom’s eyes wandered. Orlando Bloom stood off to the side, chatting with pretty little Kirsten all grown up and darling. Orlando stretched and Tom noticed that the muscles in his arms could be seen through his shirt. The young guy was in pretty good shape.
“Sounds great,” Tom said and he patted Cameron on the back. He stepped away just a touch, knowing that standing too close to the towering Cameron would only make him look shorter than he was. He ambled off into the set, knowing that his assistant and Cameron would follow and they’d continue to chat. Flash bulbs snapped, so Tom widened his smile. The set designers had fitted the tables perfectly; it looked as if a large banquet had just adjourned. Half-eaten meals here and there, wilted flowers with scattered petals, torn napkins and wrinkled tablecloths. “Looks great,” Tom said, with no acknowledgment of the repeated adjective.
He glanced again to the area along the edge of the room where the crew had taken up their place off-camera. Wires, carts and a dozen mismatched chairs made a cluttered mess just on the perimeter of the movie-magic disarray. Orlando Bloom still stood with his co-star, but another woman had joined him. She had grey hair and carried a black button-down dress shirt, just like the one the young guy already wore. She picked at the seam on his shoulder.
Tom looked back to Cameron and the crewmember who hovered at his shoulder. She carried a clipboard and had a two-way radio tucked at her waist. She looked between the two of them as if gauging that it was okay to interrupt. Tom flashed a friendly smile. “Are we ready to go?” he asked.
The woman nodded and looked to Cameron. “They got the fill light going.”
Tom and his assistant followed Cameron back to the edge of set and took the seat specially put aside for him right behind the monitor. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a flutter of black cloth. Orlando Bloom pulled his shirt off, handed it over, and grabbed the identical one from the grey-haired lady standing with them. She fussed over the shoulder seam. Orlando pulled the new shirt up on his shoulders. Tom noted the guy’s flat stomach and the toned bulge to his pectorals. Heat pricked at the back of his neck and he wondered who Orlando Bloom’s trainer was.
He sat silently and attentively as the scene began; he waited patiently through flubbed lines and the careful choreography of a dolly shot. Orlando Bloom shined on camera, which was clear even on the black and white monitor Tom watched. The heat on Tom’s neck spread down his back. The muscles in his jaw tightened. He felt irritation rise slowly in his gut and felt the first stirrings of anger.
Orlando Bloom was too young and too good-looking. It wasn’t unreasonable, really, to call him The Next Tom Cruise. Tom swallowed and laughed along with the others at a hilariously ruined line - “annually” not “anally” - but tension ruled his limbs. Orlando Bloom looked great; he was a threat. Tom felt it in his core.
Orlando Bloom wore a suit coat over the black dress shirt now and it fit him well. His broad shoulders, the span of his chest; his trousers hugged his slim waist snugly. Tom watched him and masked the anger he felt rising. Orlando Bloom was too good-looking. Too talented. Too good-looking; much, much too good-looking.
Spattered applause punctuated the end of a successful take and Tom clapped jovially along with him, the smack of his hands the loudest and most eager of all. He grinned and shook Cameron’s hand. His assistant made his excuses. She was used to the drill and talked with remarkable ease about an appointment that didn’t exist. Tom stepped onto the set and in front of the cameras where he felt most comfortable. He strolled over to the two young actors beaming at him. Kirsten gave him a hug and Orlando a firm and manly handshake. A spike of anger jolted through Tom’s body at the touch of their hands, at the strength of the grip and the handsome musculature he knew powered the hold. His grin tensed, but never fell. He and Orlando Bloom posed for a few pictures, traded a few inconsequential compliments, and then Tom’s assistant interrupted, playing the bad guy so everyone would know that Tom Cruise was a friendly guy who would talk to you all day if his schedule would allow it.
With waved farewells and a spontaneous ovation from the crew, Tom exited the ballroom. His smile stayed locked on his lips while his mind stayed locked on Orlando Bloom. The charisma, the voice, the smile, the body... Tom felt fire in his gut and knew it as firmly as he’d known anything.
Orlando Bloom was a threat to everything.
Author: Lemur (Lemur710@aol.com)
Type: RPS
Pairing: Tom Cruise/Orlando Bloom
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: This didn’t happen. Ever. I don’t know these people.
Feedback: That’d be great. Especially constructive criticism.
Archive: List archives; otherwise, just ask. :)
Summary: Tom Cruise visits the set of Elizabethtown.
Author’s Notes: Written in 45 minutes for the contrelamontre “Wandering” challenge. This is not a pairing I’m used to, so this is entirely experimental. I wanted to see if I could write Tom Cruise and/or a truly repressed homosexual. I’m not sure I figured out the answer. ;)
Wandering Eyes
By Lemur
Tom gripped Orlando’s hand and grinned in the way he knew people called mega-watt. He was jazzed to be here, excited to see where his money and his name were going, and thrilled to meet this young man he so often heard called The Next him.
“Hey, how ya doin’, pal?” he asked, and slapped his hand against Orlando’s shoulder. He noted distantly that the arm was firm, muscles making it feel as though he’d tapped his palm against warm marble beneath fabric.
Orlando ducked his head humbly and his smile was pure shy-boy. “I’m great. Really great. How are you, man? It’s great that you’re coming by.”
Tom moved on by and shook hands with Cameron, the man behind the camera, and the woman who stood beside the director. He heard their names, but didn’t attempt to keep them in mind. “So what are we shooting today?” His voice boomed loudly, enthusiastically and he smiled again. He saw his energy invigorate the people around him in the way they perked up and their eyes brightened. He followed Cameron out into the quaint ballroom that served as their set today, listening as he explained the scene, the final touch of romance between the leads, the sweet backdrop to the connecting kisses between man and woman. Cameron spoke poetically and Tom heard him, nodding at each appropriate spot. He knew people were watching and pictures were being snapped, so he was careful not to let his interested, enthusiastic expression fall. People would analyze his face and they could make it mean whatever they wanted about this film or his life. That’s what people did. He needed to look content and calm at all times.
As Cameron spoke of the humanity and heart of the scene, Tom’s eyes wandered. Orlando Bloom stood off to the side, chatting with pretty little Kirsten all grown up and darling. Orlando stretched and Tom noticed that the muscles in his arms could be seen through his shirt. The young guy was in pretty good shape.
“Sounds great,” Tom said and he patted Cameron on the back. He stepped away just a touch, knowing that standing too close to the towering Cameron would only make him look shorter than he was. He ambled off into the set, knowing that his assistant and Cameron would follow and they’d continue to chat. Flash bulbs snapped, so Tom widened his smile. The set designers had fitted the tables perfectly; it looked as if a large banquet had just adjourned. Half-eaten meals here and there, wilted flowers with scattered petals, torn napkins and wrinkled tablecloths. “Looks great,” Tom said, with no acknowledgment of the repeated adjective.
He glanced again to the area along the edge of the room where the crew had taken up their place off-camera. Wires, carts and a dozen mismatched chairs made a cluttered mess just on the perimeter of the movie-magic disarray. Orlando Bloom still stood with his co-star, but another woman had joined him. She had grey hair and carried a black button-down dress shirt, just like the one the young guy already wore. She picked at the seam on his shoulder.
Tom looked back to Cameron and the crewmember who hovered at his shoulder. She carried a clipboard and had a two-way radio tucked at her waist. She looked between the two of them as if gauging that it was okay to interrupt. Tom flashed a friendly smile. “Are we ready to go?” he asked.
The woman nodded and looked to Cameron. “They got the fill light going.”
Tom and his assistant followed Cameron back to the edge of set and took the seat specially put aside for him right behind the monitor. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a flutter of black cloth. Orlando Bloom pulled his shirt off, handed it over, and grabbed the identical one from the grey-haired lady standing with them. She fussed over the shoulder seam. Orlando pulled the new shirt up on his shoulders. Tom noted the guy’s flat stomach and the toned bulge to his pectorals. Heat pricked at the back of his neck and he wondered who Orlando Bloom’s trainer was.
He sat silently and attentively as the scene began; he waited patiently through flubbed lines and the careful choreography of a dolly shot. Orlando Bloom shined on camera, which was clear even on the black and white monitor Tom watched. The heat on Tom’s neck spread down his back. The muscles in his jaw tightened. He felt irritation rise slowly in his gut and felt the first stirrings of anger.
Orlando Bloom was too young and too good-looking. It wasn’t unreasonable, really, to call him The Next Tom Cruise. Tom swallowed and laughed along with the others at a hilariously ruined line - “annually” not “anally” - but tension ruled his limbs. Orlando Bloom looked great; he was a threat. Tom felt it in his core.
Orlando Bloom wore a suit coat over the black dress shirt now and it fit him well. His broad shoulders, the span of his chest; his trousers hugged his slim waist snugly. Tom watched him and masked the anger he felt rising. Orlando Bloom was too good-looking. Too talented. Too good-looking; much, much too good-looking.
Spattered applause punctuated the end of a successful take and Tom clapped jovially along with him, the smack of his hands the loudest and most eager of all. He grinned and shook Cameron’s hand. His assistant made his excuses. She was used to the drill and talked with remarkable ease about an appointment that didn’t exist. Tom stepped onto the set and in front of the cameras where he felt most comfortable. He strolled over to the two young actors beaming at him. Kirsten gave him a hug and Orlando a firm and manly handshake. A spike of anger jolted through Tom’s body at the touch of their hands, at the strength of the grip and the handsome musculature he knew powered the hold. His grin tensed, but never fell. He and Orlando Bloom posed for a few pictures, traded a few inconsequential compliments, and then Tom’s assistant interrupted, playing the bad guy so everyone would know that Tom Cruise was a friendly guy who would talk to you all day if his schedule would allow it.
With waved farewells and a spontaneous ovation from the crew, Tom exited the ballroom. His smile stayed locked on his lips while his mind stayed locked on Orlando Bloom. The charisma, the voice, the smile, the body... Tom felt fire in his gut and knew it as firmly as he’d known anything.
Orlando Bloom was a threat to everything.