FIC: Fun (Not So Much) - 1/1, Lotrips, PG, Karl/Harry/Orlando
Title: Fun (Not So Much)
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Karl Urban/Harry Sinclair/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Word count: 286
Summary: Harry's idea of fun never quite matches anyone else's.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 12th Day of Christmas for azewewish because she knows which pairings to request to make sure they get written.
Harry pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, scratches the back of his head. "I don't know..."
Karl just snorts and slouches even lower on the sofa. Orlando, on the other hand, looks at Harry as if he's grown a second head. "But, but, it'll be fun."
"And really, Harry," Karl says, peering over the edge of the newspaper, clearly delighted in being the one to encourage Orlando this time, "why should we let everyone else have all the fun?"
"That doesn't sound like much fun to me," Harry points out, trying to shore up his defenses in what seems to be a losing battle.
Especially when Orlando turns those big brown eyes on him, all woebegone and puppy-like. Especially then.
"But Harry -"
"Orli, I don't -"
"It'll be fun," Orlando repeats (stubborn to the end), like saying it more than once is going to make a difference. "And it's totally safe. I checked it out and everything."
"There you go," Karl says. All pretense of reading the paper is long gone. "Kid did his research."
"Like that," Harry comments drily, "is in any way at all reassuring."
"It...oi," Orlando sputters, "wanker. I'll have you know -"
Harry holds up a hand. "If I say yes, what do I get in return?"
"Dunno," Orlando says, after a long moment in which he shares a not so subtle look with Karl. "What d'you want?"
"You're the one who wants to do this," Harry says, allowing himself more than a little smugness. "Up to you to decide what it's worth."
Karl and Orlando share another look. And that looks tells Harry that he's well and truly screwed. Not to mention maneuvered exactly where they wanted him.
Bollocks.
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)
Fandom: Lotrips
Pairing: Karl Urban/Harry Sinclair/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Word count: 286
Summary: Harry's idea of fun never quite matches anyone else's.
Disclaimer: Fiction, folks. But if you believe this really happened, I've got some prime real estate I wanna sell you…
Author's Notes: The 12th Day of Christmas for azewewish because she knows which pairings to request to make sure they get written.
Harry pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, scratches the back of his head. "I don't know..."
Karl just snorts and slouches even lower on the sofa. Orlando, on the other hand, looks at Harry as if he's grown a second head. "But, but, it'll be fun."
"And really, Harry," Karl says, peering over the edge of the newspaper, clearly delighted in being the one to encourage Orlando this time, "why should we let everyone else have all the fun?"
"That doesn't sound like much fun to me," Harry points out, trying to shore up his defenses in what seems to be a losing battle.
Especially when Orlando turns those big brown eyes on him, all woebegone and puppy-like. Especially then.
"But Harry -"
"Orli, I don't -"
"It'll be fun," Orlando repeats (stubborn to the end), like saying it more than once is going to make a difference. "And it's totally safe. I checked it out and everything."
"There you go," Karl says. All pretense of reading the paper is long gone. "Kid did his research."
"Like that," Harry comments drily, "is in any way at all reassuring."
"It...oi," Orlando sputters, "wanker. I'll have you know -"
Harry holds up a hand. "If I say yes, what do I get in return?"
"Dunno," Orlando says, after a long moment in which he shares a not so subtle look with Karl. "What d'you want?"
"You're the one who wants to do this," Harry says, allowing himself more than a little smugness. "Up to you to decide what it's worth."
Karl and Orlando share another look. And that looks tells Harry that he's well and truly screwed. Not to mention maneuvered exactly where they wanted him.
Bollocks.