The little AU: VIgnettes: While Karl's Away
The little AU: Vignettes: While Karl's Away
slashfairy
R
~~
Viggo gets home: business, pleasure, family stuff; and Karl leaves: business, pleasure, family stuff. Orli gets a job, works, makes friends. Vig hangs out, writes, thinks, strums the guitar, feels old and foolish, as though he's trapping the two younger men in his oddities, his quiet intensity. He checks the e-mail frequently, forgetting what time-zone Prague's in, remembering only that the friends Karl's traveling with thought they'd only have access in the evenings, and infrequently at that.
Viggo gets mopey, looks through old photos and old cards, sleeps with one of Henry's old bears on Karl's side of the bed, curls around a restless Orlando who misses Karl just as much even though he's smiling and happy at work every day. Orlando smiles at work but he knows that Karl's not home yet, not in their funny old house with three dogs and striped umbrella set in the yard, and not in the bed that holds them all comfortably now.
Together he and Viggo make it through the days, the nights, in good enough spirits, because they have a home and places to work and write, thanks to Karl, so he's with them every day, every night, even while he's showing friends around Prague and having a ball and they're missing his square shoulders, his strong hands, his eyes, changeable and gentle and deep, so deep when he's just about to come in Orli's arse, Viggo kissing him and Orlando panting "Karl, Karl, Karl" into Viggo's mouth until he falls on the pillow, smiling and sated and loved. It's just not the same now without Karl.
Karl gets the few e-mails they actually send, and smiles to himself as his friends read over his shoulder. He's enjoying his time, off doing what he likes to do best, explore, but he can't wait to get home, to tell them about it, share what he saw, what he learned, what he thought, what he felt.
One day they'll all take a trip together, Vig thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep. Or maybe, maybe they're already on one, this trip called "life".
~~
slashfairy
R
~~
Viggo gets home: business, pleasure, family stuff; and Karl leaves: business, pleasure, family stuff. Orli gets a job, works, makes friends. Vig hangs out, writes, thinks, strums the guitar, feels old and foolish, as though he's trapping the two younger men in his oddities, his quiet intensity. He checks the e-mail frequently, forgetting what time-zone Prague's in, remembering only that the friends Karl's traveling with thought they'd only have access in the evenings, and infrequently at that.
Viggo gets mopey, looks through old photos and old cards, sleeps with one of Henry's old bears on Karl's side of the bed, curls around a restless Orlando who misses Karl just as much even though he's smiling and happy at work every day. Orlando smiles at work but he knows that Karl's not home yet, not in their funny old house with three dogs and striped umbrella set in the yard, and not in the bed that holds them all comfortably now.
Together he and Viggo make it through the days, the nights, in good enough spirits, because they have a home and places to work and write, thanks to Karl, so he's with them every day, every night, even while he's showing friends around Prague and having a ball and they're missing his square shoulders, his strong hands, his eyes, changeable and gentle and deep, so deep when he's just about to come in Orli's arse, Viggo kissing him and Orlando panting "Karl, Karl, Karl" into Viggo's mouth until he falls on the pillow, smiling and sated and loved. It's just not the same now without Karl.
Karl gets the few e-mails they actually send, and smiles to himself as his friends read over his shoulder. He's enjoying his time, off doing what he likes to do best, explore, but he can't wait to get home, to tell them about it, share what he saw, what he learned, what he thought, what he felt.
One day they'll all take a trip together, Vig thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep. Or maybe, maybe they're already on one, this trip called "life".
~~