Evidence (5)
Title: Evidence
Author: Moraya (mesnica)
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Warnings: angst
Summary: Orlando has done something incredibly stupid.
Disclaimer: If this would be true, this story wouldn't be the first place you read about it. In other words, it's pure fiction.
Feedback: Is loved very much!
A/N: Present/future time fic. Not sure when exactly, the boys didn't tell me so far, but it's either now or in a not so far future. Doesn't matter that much though.
Beta: tularia
Dedicated to bwitched83uk for helping me to flesh this bunny out and believing in me. I love you, hon *snuggles*
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Viggo had woken up quite some time before sunrise, which wasn't a surprise at all considering they'd both gone to bed directly after dinner. A 24-hour car drive will do that to you. But they were both used to dealing with jet lag from intercontinental flights, at promo tour times; even several of them in as many days. It wasn't something you could ever teach your body to really handle, but you got used to it. Still, turning in early had been a good idea, and getting up even earlier than usual was a small price to pay.
He shut his bedroom door silently after himself as not to wake Orlando if he still slept. Showering could wait until later too. Making his way into the kitchen, Viggo stumbled over something in the unlit hallway. Cursing softly under his breath, he bent down to push the potentially dangerous object more to the side.
The bag, as Viggo recognized it when he touched it, must have been Orlando's since his own was standing in front of the dresser in his bedroom. He grasped around until he found the handle and heaved it up. Orlando would probably want fresh clothes when he woke up; he would just put it in front of the guestroom door.
He apparently hadn't gripped the handle at the right point; after the first step the bag slanted, and its weight made Viggo drop it back to the floor. There was a dull thud as the bag met the hard wood, and a sharper clunk as something else slipped out of it and also hit the ground.
"Fuck," Viggo cursed, then decided that turning on the lights might be a good idea lest he drop more things.
He found the light switch quickly, and the artificial light revealed the travel bag lying on its side and a half-wrapped packet a few feet from it.
Viggo didn't intend to snoop through Orlando's stuff, but the fall had made some of the packet's contents spill out and scatter on the floor. It was papers, most of them lying upside down on the floor, but some either had turned during the fall or the papers hadn't been in any order previously.
He recognized them for what they were at the first glance.
The paper clung to the floor, refusing to be picked up and Viggo's hand trembled. It was a head shot, and if he had had any doubt on Orlando's story, this single picture destroyed it.
The Orlando on the picture was young, much younger than when Viggo had first met him, but he was still clearly recognizable. His eyes were almost closed, his mouth slightly open, and Viggo had to close his eyes to fend off the thoughts that raced through his mind.
Hastily, he swept the scattered pictures together, studiously avoiding looking at them while doing so, and picked up the packet. There wasn't any way that he couldn't notice the video tape that it contained as he stuffed the pictures back in it, and his hands shook at the knowledge of what exactly he was holding in them.
* * * * *
"Hey," Orlando said as he entered the kitchen somewhat after sunrise and leaned against the doorframe.
Viggo looked up from the local newspaper he was reading and smiled at him. "Good morning. Sleep well?"
"No," Orlando answered and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Bad dreams," he added.
"Sorry," Viggo said. "Do you want coffee? There's some in the machine." He pointed towards the counter.
"Yeah, sure." Orlando crossed the kitchen and filled himself a cup, drinking it slowly as leaned against the counter and stared out of the window.
"Want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"What you dreamed of," Viggo clarified.
"No."
Leaving it be, Viggo went back to reading the paper, or rather staring at it; he couldn't get himself to concentrate enough to make out what the words were supposed to be. All morning the image of Orlando in the throws of passion hadn't left his mind and he had the hardest time now to appear as if everything was normal.
"So, what are the plans for today?" Orlando's voice sounded from the other side of the kitchen, and when Viggo turned around to him, the younger man was looking at him expectantly.
"There are none," Viggo said. "Just relax, forget the world outside."
"I can't just do nothing." Orlando put his empty cup in the sink and came over to Viggo, sitting down at the table too. "What are you going to do?"
Viggo shrugged. "I'm probably going to take one of the horses for a ride later."
"Can I come along?"
"Sure."
* * * * *
It had been a beautiful day, the air clear and crisp, not cold enough yet to hurt in your lungs after inhaling it deeply. They had spent about two hours on horseback later in the morning, Viggo showing Orlando his property, the seemingly endless woods that surrounded the ranch, and his favorite spot where a clearing in the forest granted you an unhindered view of the lake spread out below.
They hadn't talked much during that time; they didn't need to. Once again, the silence felt comfortable. Riding together brought back memories of New Zealand, but they weren't ranger-come-king and elven prince anymore and it felt a little like they would have to learn to just be Viggo and Orlando with each other.
Later, when they were back in the house and had had lunch, Orlando went into his room to unpack his clothes, leaving Viggo alone with his thoughts that immediately returned to the contents of the younger man's travel bag.
Why had Orlando brought it with him anyway? Did he want Viggo to see the pictures and the video? No, surely not.
Sinking another dirty plate in the warm water and swiping the rag over it, Viggo contemplated asking Orlando directly. He hadn't come to a conclusion when Orlando returned.
"Can I help?"
Viggo shook his head. "I'm almost finished and you're my guest, so no."
"Is that so?"
"Of course." Viggo wiped his hands dry on a towel and turned around.
"Well, then you are obliged to entertain me," Orlando stated cheekily.
Viggo raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of entertainment do you have in mind?"
Orlando shrugged. "Don't know; you're the one who's used to being in the middle of nowhere. What do you do all day when you're here usually, besides riding?"
"I read, or write. Paint too when I'm in the mood, but I used up most of the paints last time I was here."
"I don't really feel like reading," Orlando said. "And you know I neither write nor paint."
"What do you do nowadays to relax?" Viggo asked with honest curiosity.
"I didn't really have the time for relaxing," Orlando answered, the tone in his voice lowering and a shadow forming on his face. "Guess I will have much in the future though, huh?" he asked sarcastically.
"Orlando."
"No, it's… fine. Really," Orlando brushed Viggo off.
He straightened up, and there was bit of the determination back in him that Viggo had known from before. The will to do whatever it took, to work hard on getting better. Viggo hoped it would be enough; it wouldn't be easy for Orlando.
* * * * *
The rest of the day was uneventful, boring in fact for Orlando. He never would have thought that doing nothing could be even more exhausting than hurrying from one thing to the next, never being able to stop and breathe. Since there wasn't anything to do, he had spent an entire hour in the bathtub, getting thoroughly soaked in the hot water. It had taken care of the stiff muscles from the daylong drive yesterday, and it had left his fingers and toes wrinkled.
After that he had joined Viggo in the living room and they had talked about anything and nothing at all. But both of them had avoided talking about anything related to their work, evading that subject at all costs. Orlando wanted to shove it into the deepest hidden corner of his mind, put a lock on it and throw the key away. Why Viggo didn't bring it up he didn't know, but he was thankful for it.
He knew that he wouldn't be able to suppress his thoughts and fears for long, but one day without thinking about what would come next was nice. One day where he just could live for the now and not for the tomorrow. A week of it would be even better, a lifetime would be a dream, but that was a dream that wouldn't come true.
Chapter 6
Author: Moraya (mesnica)
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Warnings: angst
Summary: Orlando has done something incredibly stupid.
Disclaimer: If this would be true, this story wouldn't be the first place you read about it. In other words, it's pure fiction.
Feedback: Is loved very much!
A/N: Present/future time fic. Not sure when exactly, the boys didn't tell me so far, but it's either now or in a not so far future. Doesn't matter that much though.
Beta: tularia
Dedicated to bwitched83uk for helping me to flesh this bunny out and believing in me. I love you, hon *snuggles*
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Viggo had woken up quite some time before sunrise, which wasn't a surprise at all considering they'd both gone to bed directly after dinner. A 24-hour car drive will do that to you. But they were both used to dealing with jet lag from intercontinental flights, at promo tour times; even several of them in as many days. It wasn't something you could ever teach your body to really handle, but you got used to it. Still, turning in early had been a good idea, and getting up even earlier than usual was a small price to pay.
He shut his bedroom door silently after himself as not to wake Orlando if he still slept. Showering could wait until later too. Making his way into the kitchen, Viggo stumbled over something in the unlit hallway. Cursing softly under his breath, he bent down to push the potentially dangerous object more to the side.
The bag, as Viggo recognized it when he touched it, must have been Orlando's since his own was standing in front of the dresser in his bedroom. He grasped around until he found the handle and heaved it up. Orlando would probably want fresh clothes when he woke up; he would just put it in front of the guestroom door.
He apparently hadn't gripped the handle at the right point; after the first step the bag slanted, and its weight made Viggo drop it back to the floor. There was a dull thud as the bag met the hard wood, and a sharper clunk as something else slipped out of it and also hit the ground.
"Fuck," Viggo cursed, then decided that turning on the lights might be a good idea lest he drop more things.
He found the light switch quickly, and the artificial light revealed the travel bag lying on its side and a half-wrapped packet a few feet from it.
Viggo didn't intend to snoop through Orlando's stuff, but the fall had made some of the packet's contents spill out and scatter on the floor. It was papers, most of them lying upside down on the floor, but some either had turned during the fall or the papers hadn't been in any order previously.
He recognized them for what they were at the first glance.
The paper clung to the floor, refusing to be picked up and Viggo's hand trembled. It was a head shot, and if he had had any doubt on Orlando's story, this single picture destroyed it.
The Orlando on the picture was young, much younger than when Viggo had first met him, but he was still clearly recognizable. His eyes were almost closed, his mouth slightly open, and Viggo had to close his eyes to fend off the thoughts that raced through his mind.
Hastily, he swept the scattered pictures together, studiously avoiding looking at them while doing so, and picked up the packet. There wasn't any way that he couldn't notice the video tape that it contained as he stuffed the pictures back in it, and his hands shook at the knowledge of what exactly he was holding in them.
* * * * *
"Hey," Orlando said as he entered the kitchen somewhat after sunrise and leaned against the doorframe.
Viggo looked up from the local newspaper he was reading and smiled at him. "Good morning. Sleep well?"
"No," Orlando answered and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Bad dreams," he added.
"Sorry," Viggo said. "Do you want coffee? There's some in the machine." He pointed towards the counter.
"Yeah, sure." Orlando crossed the kitchen and filled himself a cup, drinking it slowly as leaned against the counter and stared out of the window.
"Want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"What you dreamed of," Viggo clarified.
"No."
Leaving it be, Viggo went back to reading the paper, or rather staring at it; he couldn't get himself to concentrate enough to make out what the words were supposed to be. All morning the image of Orlando in the throws of passion hadn't left his mind and he had the hardest time now to appear as if everything was normal.
"So, what are the plans for today?" Orlando's voice sounded from the other side of the kitchen, and when Viggo turned around to him, the younger man was looking at him expectantly.
"There are none," Viggo said. "Just relax, forget the world outside."
"I can't just do nothing." Orlando put his empty cup in the sink and came over to Viggo, sitting down at the table too. "What are you going to do?"
Viggo shrugged. "I'm probably going to take one of the horses for a ride later."
"Can I come along?"
"Sure."
* * * * *
It had been a beautiful day, the air clear and crisp, not cold enough yet to hurt in your lungs after inhaling it deeply. They had spent about two hours on horseback later in the morning, Viggo showing Orlando his property, the seemingly endless woods that surrounded the ranch, and his favorite spot where a clearing in the forest granted you an unhindered view of the lake spread out below.
They hadn't talked much during that time; they didn't need to. Once again, the silence felt comfortable. Riding together brought back memories of New Zealand, but they weren't ranger-come-king and elven prince anymore and it felt a little like they would have to learn to just be Viggo and Orlando with each other.
Later, when they were back in the house and had had lunch, Orlando went into his room to unpack his clothes, leaving Viggo alone with his thoughts that immediately returned to the contents of the younger man's travel bag.
Why had Orlando brought it with him anyway? Did he want Viggo to see the pictures and the video? No, surely not.
Sinking another dirty plate in the warm water and swiping the rag over it, Viggo contemplated asking Orlando directly. He hadn't come to a conclusion when Orlando returned.
"Can I help?"
Viggo shook his head. "I'm almost finished and you're my guest, so no."
"Is that so?"
"Of course." Viggo wiped his hands dry on a towel and turned around.
"Well, then you are obliged to entertain me," Orlando stated cheekily.
Viggo raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of entertainment do you have in mind?"
Orlando shrugged. "Don't know; you're the one who's used to being in the middle of nowhere. What do you do all day when you're here usually, besides riding?"
"I read, or write. Paint too when I'm in the mood, but I used up most of the paints last time I was here."
"I don't really feel like reading," Orlando said. "And you know I neither write nor paint."
"What do you do nowadays to relax?" Viggo asked with honest curiosity.
"I didn't really have the time for relaxing," Orlando answered, the tone in his voice lowering and a shadow forming on his face. "Guess I will have much in the future though, huh?" he asked sarcastically.
"Orlando."
"No, it's… fine. Really," Orlando brushed Viggo off.
He straightened up, and there was bit of the determination back in him that Viggo had known from before. The will to do whatever it took, to work hard on getting better. Viggo hoped it would be enough; it wouldn't be easy for Orlando.
* * * * *
The rest of the day was uneventful, boring in fact for Orlando. He never would have thought that doing nothing could be even more exhausting than hurrying from one thing to the next, never being able to stop and breathe. Since there wasn't anything to do, he had spent an entire hour in the bathtub, getting thoroughly soaked in the hot water. It had taken care of the stiff muscles from the daylong drive yesterday, and it had left his fingers and toes wrinkled.
After that he had joined Viggo in the living room and they had talked about anything and nothing at all. But both of them had avoided talking about anything related to their work, evading that subject at all costs. Orlando wanted to shove it into the deepest hidden corner of his mind, put a lock on it and throw the key away. Why Viggo didn't bring it up he didn't know, but he was thankful for it.
He knew that he wouldn't be able to suppress his thoughts and fears for long, but one day without thinking about what would come next was nice. One day where he just could live for the now and not for the tomorrow. A week of it would be even better, a lifetime would be a dream, but that was a dream that wouldn't come true.
Chapter 6