The little AU: Winter Hopes: Listening
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Listening
slashfairy
~~
In the morning he wakes feeling the best he has in some time- warm all the way through (though he knows that won't last, but it's luxurious and he revels in it while it does) and so very safe.
I had a helluva dream last night, fellas, he says, coming out into the kitchen to find they've got mate ready, and some toast, and some fruit, and his canned food-drink.
Did you? Orlando asks, acting the innocent, but that gives the game away, and within moments they're all laughing quietly, smiles and bright warmth filling the kitchen despite the Southern California Coastal Overcast outside.
I did, I did- and enjoyed it thoroughly, too. He sips the mate through the little silver filter-straw this gourd came with- a gift in Argentina, from someone too quiet and self-contained to force her way to the front of a line, and all the more appreciated for it, because she'd found a way to get it to him without fanfare, so he can enjoy it for itself now and not be reminded of the 'sound and fury, signifying nothing' that touring and signing can be.
Good, then, Karl says, taking the empty plate from in front of him and carrying it to the sink.
It's no secret among them- Karl's the least fond of Viggo losing so much weight for this part. He understands, as much as he can, what drives the need, but he likes it little nonetheless. I'll be glad when this is over, you know that, right? he says, kissing the top of Viggo's head before sitting down again at the table with his coffee held in both hands.
I know, Viggo says. I know. I'm-
No, Orlando says. You're not sorry, and you don't need to be sorry. You just need to be careful. That's all. Just be careful. Listen to your body, to your health, as much as you listen to the man, and to the road, all right? Yes?
Viggo sips, and sits, and they let him have his time as he sorts this into the equation, the calculus of live moving through living. Then he nods, once, twice, and smiles at them, and says, Ok, I can do that.
Later that day he realizes that his truck is too big for him; the talk-radio stations are too loud; the energy needed so he can hurry up and do something too far to reach, an arm's length farther than he can swim.
He feels himself shrinking into this man, this life, this narrow world that exists only upon the road in front of him, the road behind already dissolving in grey and ash and dust behind him, and a shiver runs through him, not of cold, nor of fear, but of suddenly knowing he's found it, the place he'll live, now, to do this movie, to tell this story.
That night they lie together again, Orlando on one side, Karl on the other, their arms around him, while he weeps a moment unashamed for that world, the world of The Road. Then he lets them make love to him again, this time awake, lets himself understand how gentle their strength is with him, and realizes this is what will see him through- these gentle strong hands, these steady legs, this heat, this love- this is what will hold his feet to the ground step by step, so he doesn't fall off the earth, and disappear.
All he has to do, as he walks along the road, is listen to them breathing inside his heart, and he'll have his way home, Ariadne's string through the maze of telling this particular truth.
If he's very quiet, he can hear the thrum of the spider-silk fineness of their breathing on the wind.
previously: Comfort
next: Translations
slashfairy
~~
In the morning he wakes feeling the best he has in some time- warm all the way through (though he knows that won't last, but it's luxurious and he revels in it while it does) and so very safe.
I had a helluva dream last night, fellas, he says, coming out into the kitchen to find they've got mate ready, and some toast, and some fruit, and his canned food-drink.
Did you? Orlando asks, acting the innocent, but that gives the game away, and within moments they're all laughing quietly, smiles and bright warmth filling the kitchen despite the Southern California Coastal Overcast outside.
I did, I did- and enjoyed it thoroughly, too. He sips the mate through the little silver filter-straw this gourd came with- a gift in Argentina, from someone too quiet and self-contained to force her way to the front of a line, and all the more appreciated for it, because she'd found a way to get it to him without fanfare, so he can enjoy it for itself now and not be reminded of the 'sound and fury, signifying nothing' that touring and signing can be.
Good, then, Karl says, taking the empty plate from in front of him and carrying it to the sink.
It's no secret among them- Karl's the least fond of Viggo losing so much weight for this part. He understands, as much as he can, what drives the need, but he likes it little nonetheless. I'll be glad when this is over, you know that, right? he says, kissing the top of Viggo's head before sitting down again at the table with his coffee held in both hands.
I know, Viggo says. I know. I'm-
No, Orlando says. You're not sorry, and you don't need to be sorry. You just need to be careful. That's all. Just be careful. Listen to your body, to your health, as much as you listen to the man, and to the road, all right? Yes?
Viggo sips, and sits, and they let him have his time as he sorts this into the equation, the calculus of live moving through living. Then he nods, once, twice, and smiles at them, and says, Ok, I can do that.
Later that day he realizes that his truck is too big for him; the talk-radio stations are too loud; the energy needed so he can hurry up and do something too far to reach, an arm's length farther than he can swim.
He feels himself shrinking into this man, this life, this narrow world that exists only upon the road in front of him, the road behind already dissolving in grey and ash and dust behind him, and a shiver runs through him, not of cold, nor of fear, but of suddenly knowing he's found it, the place he'll live, now, to do this movie, to tell this story.
That night they lie together again, Orlando on one side, Karl on the other, their arms around him, while he weeps a moment unashamed for that world, the world of The Road. Then he lets them make love to him again, this time awake, lets himself understand how gentle their strength is with him, and realizes this is what will see him through- these gentle strong hands, these steady legs, this heat, this love- this is what will hold his feet to the ground step by step, so he doesn't fall off the earth, and disappear.
All he has to do, as he walks along the road, is listen to them breathing inside his heart, and he'll have his way home, Ariadne's string through the maze of telling this particular truth.
If he's very quiet, he can hear the thrum of the spider-silk fineness of their breathing on the wind.
previously: Comfort
next: Translations