Orlibean one-shot "A Shift in the Usual"

[slave_o_spike]

So, for doylebaby who requested orlibean, I give you what some people requested when they read What to do when you're doing hard time, the one-shot with Eric's POV about Sean and Orlando in jail together.

Here is the prequel to that story.

So enjoy!

Title: A Shift in the Usual
Pairing: Orlando/Sean
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Reference to violence and some swearing
Summary: Prequel to my Orlibean standalone "What to do when you're doing hard time." This shows how Orli came to be in the cell block.

Disclaimer: I don't own these boys. I would never suggest these boys are that sociopathic in real life.

Well, maybe Dommie...



Billy's POV

I remember the day things changed.

It wasn't a big change. Not like everything in the world as we know it would change forever.

But it was there. Something shifted and things were different.

Dommie was just as shocked as I was.

And like Dommie was always saying to me, "Billy, there ain't nothing that shocks me no more."

Dommie was always saying it like it was.

Dom was my partner in crime. If I had a soulmate (because it certainly wasn't that bitch of an ex-wife, God rest her soul), it would be him.

He was Butch to my Sundance. Starsky to my Hutch. Cagney to my Lacey.

Well, you get the idea.

How we enjoyed our adventures together! We had one of the best gigs going. Dressed as missionaries from the Church of Latter Day Saints, we would knock on some housewife's door (all dressed proper in our crisp white shirts and black slacks), and ask her if she knew about God's plan for her. The bird would always let us in with a sweet smile, usually flirting with myself or Dommie, and then we were in.

And oh the fun we had!

I had to admit though, I did get a wee bit tired of Dommie's always saying that cheesy line, "God's plan is that you're about to meet up with him right now!" after the women would let us in and Dom delivered the first plunge of the knife.

I told the nutter we should get a new line and Dommie in his usual way told me to shut it and get on with the slaying.

And slaying we did.

I always did love the color red.

Although, we did go through an awful lot of crisp, white shirts.

But see? This is what Dommie is always saying about me. I get off...what was it the yanks called it? Oh yeah, track.

I guess they came up with that saying because 'getting off track' meant that the train would derail and my ma always did say Dom and I were a train wreck in progress.

Well then, I guess the yanks were right.

But now I can't figure out what I was fucking talking about.

Oh yeah.

Sean.

Big Bad Sean Bean.

There was never a more cruel man in the cell block.

The bloke made us all look like Mary Poppins picking daises.

When Dommie and I first came to the wing, I walked up to Bean and introduced myself.

He got real quiet and then growled at me.

He growled.

At me!

Not a name. Not a shake of his hand. Not even a 'don't touch my stuff!'

The other blokes in the cell block told me not to take it personally as Sean never spoke more than five words every two months or so.

You would have thought the man a mute had it not been for his shout out at me and Dommie that one time with a loud 'Enough!' It had been enough to get every single man in the rec room to lower their voices if not stop talking at all.

I've had blokes tell me to shut up, in the most colorful way possible with several words and even fists to back them up.

But never one man with one word did I ever shut up as fast as I did that very day.

So did Dommie.

Then Dommie slapped me on the arm and told me to watch it around Bean even though the arsewipe were the one to start the whole argument.

Dommie's always getting me into trouble and then blaming me.

I remember this one time...

And there I go again. I really do need to learn to focus. I was talking about Bean and how the man never spoke, and when he did, it was serious.

It was always the same with this man.

But then one day, it just changed. That shift I was talking about earlier.

Had Dommie and those other two blokes, Bana and Viggo, not been there, I would have thought I imagined it.

They were televising the capture of the Casanova Cadavers' killer.

I guess he would be called Casanova but they didn't seem to want to use the name on him and just used his Christian name.

Orlando Bloom.

There the lad was, right there on the telly. Microphones shoved into his face, everyone wanting a statement, all pushing forward to get closer to the enigma standing on the courthouse steps.

And when one bold reporter took his microphone and held it up to Orlando Bloom, asking him if he truly was the serial killer who had murdered all those women, the lad from Canterbury cleared his throat and simply said, 'yes, I am,' in the most sweet sounding voice ever heard.

And just like that, after hearing the boy's voice, we all started talking at once. I said he seemed like a nice lad and would be fun to have around and Dommie said he was only a wee slip of a thing.

Viggo said he was too innocent looking and was just a kid while Bana said it was always the innocent ones you had to watch out for.

And what was Sean doing this whole time?

Well, that's the thing.

Sean was just sitting there, his eyes glued to the telly the whole time. I swear if I live to fifty, I would never have guessed that man to have taken an active interest in anything until that day.

And just as I was contemplating that, it happened.

Sean Bean, the man who barely ever spoke, and when he did, it wasn't something you wanted to hear, looked at the screen in something akin to wonder and said quietly, 'I think he's beautiful. And perfect. Perfect and beautiful.'

It got real quiet as we all stopped to look at Sean.

The man had broken his bi-monthly word quota in a space of half a minute.

And it wasn't just what he said, but how he said it.

Almost reverently.

I thought Eric would have fallen over had he not had the back of Viggo's chair to anchor him.

And Viggo? Well Viggo had a stunned look on his face right before it turned into a huge, knowing grin that fucker.

And Dommie just stared at Sean as if the man had suddenly sprouted a third leg out of his ear. I had to slap Dommie on the forearm just in case Sean took his attention away from the telly for a moment and decided to get upset with my friend.

Yeah, that was the first time I had seen it.

Life seemed to get back to the way it had been only things were slightly different.

Every time an update would show up on the screen about Orli's court appearances, Sean was there, glued to the telly, shushing anyone who dare speak a word.

Shushing us!

Despite the fact that Sean was the only one to take notice of these small news updates, during the televised clip of the actual sentencing, there was not one inmate who wanted to miss it.

All crowded around the telly, Sean right up front as usual, we watched as Orli stood up on the stand. When the judge asked him, as judges always do, if he had anything to say, to show his remorse for his numerous crimes and the path of destruction he had left for the victims' families and loved ones before going away for the rest of his life, locked away in a maximum security wing in a maximum security prison, Orlando Bloom looked back at the camera, his chin held high and said quietly and sweetly in that refined voice of his, "Do they have a telly there?"

While everyone in the court room was shocked and outraged by his flippant candor, his new family to be, which would be us, just laughed and high fived each other.

He would fit in well here.

And Sean?

Well, ole Sean, what can I say?

After Orli said that and smiled for the camera one last time, Sean did something that to this day, I thought I'd never see.

He smiled.

Not a huge beaming, light up the ward, smile. But a small quirk of the lips upward.

I've never been able to read Bean, but I'd have to say he had that look on his face, as if he were proud of the lad, admired his spunk.

Dommie told me I was daft later for thinking it, but I think ole Bean was excited about the prospect of the lad coming to stay here.

And it wasn't until later that week, where the lad finally did come to his last resting place.

We knew Bloom was scheduled to arrive in the next half hour.

I had walked by Bean's cell, planning on heading to the rec room with the rest of the guys when I stopped in my tracks.

There was Bean, the man who didn't smile, the man who never spoke, who never gave a shit what he looked like or what people thought of him.

But there he was, standing in front of the cracked mirror hanging on his wall (where he got it from no one knows since he didn't have one there before), combing his hair methodically, making sure each strand of hair was in its place. And when he put the comb down, Bean kept staring the mirror, checking to make sure his teeth was free of anything by running his tongue across the pearly whites (and white they were! He must have brushed his teeth three times).

When he was satisfied that his teeth and hair looked proper, Sean buttoned the top button of his freshly pressed, regulation prison issue shirt.

I left before he turned around.

And when it was time for our new family member to arrive, there was Bean sitting in one of the chairs in the rec room, his back ram-rod straight as you please, his hands folded together in his lap.

It reminded me of me when I was waiting for Shelly Jackson to ask me to dance the next dance with her when I was but a wee lad of thirteen. I was sitting there, waiting, dressed in my best clothes, and she turned around and asked that burker, Billy Cowl. Dommie came and sat down next to me and we decided to spike the punch with laxatives while throwing peaches at Billy's car in the parking lot.

And so help me God, if Sean didn't have that very look right now!

There was a sound in the distance, of one of the large barred doors sliding back and then slamming shut once more, followed by footsteps.

I watched as Bean lifted himself from the seat and shifted slightly, a nervous shift if I ever saw one.

I don't think anyone else noticed in the cell black. At that point, I don't think even Big Bad Bean himself cared.

So there we all sat in the rec room, waiting for the soft spoken boy who had made the news for quite some time in the past year, when the guard walked in first.

"Fresh meat," the fat guard sneered.

And Orlando Bloom walked in.

But he wasn't.

Meat that was.

He was one of us.

We took care of our own.

And as Orlando Bloom stepped through the doorway, the first face his eyes landed on was, yep you guessed it.

Sean Bad Ass, you-don't wanna-know-what he could do, Bean.

And even though I just about expected it, the rest of my fellow inmates didn't, Because you could have watched as every single chin drop as Sean stood up, walked over to the lad and extended his hand!

"I'm Sean. Sean..."

Bean was stuttering!

"Bean," Orlando finished. "I know you. I followed your story when it hit the telly. I read everything I could about you!"

"Yeah?" Sean smiled.

And that was the smile. The kind that could light everything up.

To tell you the truth, it was a wee bit scary.

"Yeah, why'd you use a pneumatic drill on your fifth victim though? Seems a bit odd," Orlando said as he scrunched his nose.

"All I had at hand," Sean shrugged.

"Cool," Orlando giggled.

And one by one, each inmate watched the interaction between the baddest of the bad and the new kid on the block.

Watched as they both smiled and giggled with each other while looking on adoringly into each other's eyes, whispering things none of us would ever be privy to.

If there were such things as soulmates, then I knew they had each found theirs.

When I told Dommie about it after lights out that night, he told me to shut it and get back to sleep.

Dommie was always like that, but I knew. Life was about to get a wee bit more interesting around the cell block.

The End

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