FIC: "Temporary Monogamy" (Part Nine) (Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean, Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Title: "Temporary Monogamy" (9/27)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
It came as a shock to quite a few folks when Orlando ("of all people" John liked to huff out, as he was wont to do) wound up being the best chess player on set. Orlando always replied that stunning good looks and bedroom eyes weren't everything in this world, although they certainly helped, and it paid to have a skill that didn't involve going to his knees. (To which, Dom had replied that skill wasn't required for knee-bending, just a willing tongue, leading Orlando to surmise that there were things in Dom's past he never needed to know about.)
Besides which, chess was about the only thing that Orlando's father had taught him that he still retained. He was shite with dredging up old, dusty quotes from old, dusty books, but he'd never met a Queen's Gambit he didn't like.
"I dunno why you insist on playing him, Sean," Bernard remarked, one day, when Orlando and Sean were engaged in a rather lively battle while waiting for the Hobbits to finish filming over on Weathertop. "You know you'll never win."
Sean glanced up from the board, still frowning in concentration. He was bundled in a great coat to stave off the chill, but the cold gave his cheeks a ruddy quality that made him look a little like a sexier, more rugged version of Santa. If Santa had broad shoulders and strong thighs and looked like a warrior wielding a sword, that is. "Keeps me skills sharp," Sean replied, then gave Orlando a quick, conspiratorial wink. "Besides, I like to dream big."
Orlando just snorted. "Dreaming's all you're doing, mate." They'd been at this particular game for three days, and Sean had yet to make a move that had surprised him. "Besides," he said, giving Bernard his most blinding smile, "Sean's the best competition I have."
Bernard harrumphed and continued on his way to the crafts services table. Orlando vaguely hoped he wouldn’t steal all of the raisin scones again. Hard to believe such a pillar of British acting could be such a klepto.
"I think you hurt his feelings," Sean remarked, once Bernard was out of earshot.
"I think he thinks he's good at chess and he's total shite at it," Orlando replied. "And check."
Sean looked at the board and swore. "Son of a..."
"I think Harry's still in love with Karl."
Sean paused with his fingers still on his rook. His eyes glittered like emeralds, hard and implacable. "Do what?"
"Sorry, I didn't..." Christ, one day he really would learn. Where the hell had that even come from? He hadn't even been thinking about Karl or Harry. "I mean, I don't think that Karl's ever cheated or anything..."
Sean waved him off before he blathered on even more, for which Orlando was grateful. "It's alright. I know where Karl and I stand. Why do you think that?" He didn't look angry, which was a relief. Last thing Orlando wanted was Sean in a strop with him.
"Just the way Harry talks about him." Since Sean wasn't biting his head off for making inappropriate remarks, Orlando took the time to think about the last time he'd talked to Harry. No matter what Marton and Craig said, something wasn't right. "You have any idea why it ended?"
"Not a one. Karl's never said." Sean didn't look like it bothered him much. "His life is his business. I'm happy enough to keep him company."
"Must be nice to be that secure in yourself," Orlando murmured. At this point, he'd gone on more bad dates than a chick in a rom-com film.
A steady hand, paper dry and callused, closed over his own. "You're young, 'Lan," Sean said softly. "You're allowed your insecurities."
He squeezed back, felt the warmth of Sean's hand burning into his own. "Thanks."
When Sean said it, Orlando didn't feel like such a failure.
***
Pub crawls at the end of the work day were taken very seriously. With so many cast members and crew swarming around, it was easy to form little units, break off into cliques. Pub nights were a way to throw everyone together, have a few drinks, share stories that hadn't been told a million times. Orlando drank the entire experience in like it was water and he was parched. He'd never known men like these - full of craziness and life and silly arguments that meant nothing and everything. It made him realize just how much he'd been missing with the crowd he'd run with - not that they were bad blokes, but they'd all been more concerned with the next spot of trouble or the next girl than anything else.
"I dunno, Karl, Sean might be onto something." Orlando lifted his mug in emphasis, a little sloshing over the sides. He was still trying to develop a better head for alcohol, but so far, he was failing spectacularly. But, as his gran always said, practice made perfect. And Orlando was no quitter.
Karl stared at Orlando like he’d lost his mind. The conversations at the other end of the table continued, but their end was quiet enough. "What’re you talking about?" Karl asked. "Caesar was clearly the better ruler. He was the best emperor Rome’d ever known. And a bloody fierce warrior."
"So how come Xena was always kicking his arse, mate?" Orlando asked, and took another sip. He was still experimenting with ales. Light ones. He hadn't quite worked his way up to Trappist yet, and wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to drink something that looked like it could sit on his chest until he forked over his lunch money.
"Well, the show was called 'Xena, Warrior Princess'," Sean helpfully pointed out.
"Exactly!" Karl jabbed his finger on the table for emphasis. "You can bet your sweet arse if the show had been called 'Caesar, the Magnificent', it’d be a completely different story."
"Course it would." Sean raised his voice so they could hear over Bernard's loud bark of laughter.
"Anyway, point is, Caesar was definitely the better man. And definitely the better lover," Karl stated, wiping foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
"Come again?" Sean asked, eyes slightly glazed. He was clearly distracted by the fullness of Karl's lips glistening with ale.
Orlando inwardly groaned. He knew exactly where this discussion was going. With Karl, everything eventually wound back to sex, especially if Sean was in the vicinity. In another few minutes, Sean and Karl would disappear together, leaving Orlando alone to either John's long-winded stories of working with Harrison Ford (again), Ian's well-meaning advice on how to woo women (again), which was too ironic even for Orlando's warped sense of humor, or, fuck forbid, Billy and/or Viggo goading him into trying a new drink (also, again). Which never ended well. He still couldn't smell licorice without wanting to lose his lunch.
He was somewhat saved when Harry slid into the chair next to him, and promptly stole Karl's mug of beer. Orlando waited a beat for Karl to say something, and raised an eyebrow when the objection never came. "Did you all realize that Viggo makes raccoon sushi?" Harry asked, without preamble.
Sean and Orlando blinked at each other in confusion, then turned to Harry. Karl didn't so much as twitch. "You sure it wasn't sashimi?" Karl asked, like this was a normal conversation. Even Orlando, who thought of himself as a pretty good friend of Harry's, was thoroughly in the dark.
"Could be. I wasn't really paying attention. He does tend to ramble on, doesn't he?"
"It's part of his charm, so he tells me. Have you eaten?" Karl asked, sounding every inch the concerned boyfriend that he hadn't been for at least a year. Orlando glanced at Sean to see his reaction, but Sean looked like this was a perfectly regular occurrence.
"Seriously, this seems normal to you?" he asked, pitching his voice so only Sean could hear. Karl had walked up to the bar to order Harry a burger and chips and another beer.
"Yeah," Sean shrugged, and picked up his mug. "That's Karl. Sexiest mother hen in all of New Zealand."
Orlando couldn't say he disagreed. But then he decided he didn't want to know further. He had enough to worry about with his own attempts at a love life, let alone trying to figure out everyone else's tangled webs.
"C'mon, then, I'll beat you at darts again."
"That was luck last time," Sean said, but stood up. "Heading to the dart board," he told Karl, when he walked back to the table.
"My money's on you, love," Karl said, saluting him with his fresh mug.
"I'll bet on Orlando, then, just to make it even," Harry said, with a wink in Orlando's direction.
"You're a proper mate, you are," Orlando replied, and tapped Sean on the back. "Ready to lose to me twice in one day?"
Sean pressed a quick, casual kiss to Karl's lips before turning. "Not on your life."
Karl waited until they were just out of earshot before he sat down, this time next to Harry. "I hope you're not betting much. Sean lost on purpose last time they played to keep Orlando from thinking about some dust up going on with his family."
Harry wasn't surprised. For all Sean's bluster, he was as soft on Orlando as the rest of them. "They're getting cozy these days," he observed, watching as Sean looped a friendly arm around Orlando's shoulders to pull him into a manly sort of hug. It was one of those things that Sean was quite good at, but Harry'd never learned the art of. He was great with observing the world around him and creating visuals and moods with a camera or a pen, but he'd never mastered the little things when it pertained to real life.
"Orlando's still a little lost," Karl said, after taking a healthy sip of his beer. "I think having Sean around makes him not quite as homesick or heartsick or whichever it is that week."
"You don't mind him being around?"
Karl looked genuinely surprised. "Why should I? Orlando's one of my best friends, and besides, who am I to complain when Sean puts up with you prancing about underfoot."
Prancing, indeed. As if Karl couldn't remember Harry's two left feet. "I'm a mite too clumsy for that."
"Not where it counted," Karl smiled, and Harry thought he really might do anything for that smile. In fact, it was Karl's smile - the half-wicked, half-flirty one - that Harry had fallen in love with first. Not that it had taken him too long to fall in love with the rest of Karl, but that smile still had the power to stutter his heart.
It was on the tip of his tongue finally ask - what happened, where did we go wrong, is there hope for us one day - but he didn't. He could hear Orlando's curious voice in his head, remembered their conversation, his reply. The thing was, though, Harry'd been telling the truth. It wasn't important enough to ask a year ago - to risk his friendship with Karl - and it really wasn't now. Sure, he missed the sex and waking up next to Karl in the morning, but Karl meant so much more to him than a warm body. Best not to fuck with it. They really were fine and right as they were.
"Guess not," he replied. "Next free day you've got, you should come around the house, help me and Orlando plant the rest of the koromiko."
"You're letting Orlando near your garden?"
"He takes direction well," Harry shrugged, toying with the napkin under his glass.
The corners of Karl's eyes crinkled with mirth. Harry tried very hard not to count the lines. "Don’t let him hear you say that."
"I'm daft, Karl, not stupid."
Both grinned. "Yeah, alright, I'm in," Karl said. "Someone's go to see to it you two put in an honest afternoon's work."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Might want to bring Sean along, then, since I don’t think you've been honest a day in your life."
It was worth the small dig to hear Karl's beautifully unrestrained laughter.
(To Be Continued)
Author: Brenda (azewewish)
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Sean Bean (Karl Urban/Sean Bean)
Click here for full disclaimers & notes.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven (and Epilogue) |
It came as a shock to quite a few folks when Orlando ("of all people" John liked to huff out, as he was wont to do) wound up being the best chess player on set. Orlando always replied that stunning good looks and bedroom eyes weren't everything in this world, although they certainly helped, and it paid to have a skill that didn't involve going to his knees. (To which, Dom had replied that skill wasn't required for knee-bending, just a willing tongue, leading Orlando to surmise that there were things in Dom's past he never needed to know about.)
Besides which, chess was about the only thing that Orlando's father had taught him that he still retained. He was shite with dredging up old, dusty quotes from old, dusty books, but he'd never met a Queen's Gambit he didn't like.
"I dunno why you insist on playing him, Sean," Bernard remarked, one day, when Orlando and Sean were engaged in a rather lively battle while waiting for the Hobbits to finish filming over on Weathertop. "You know you'll never win."
Sean glanced up from the board, still frowning in concentration. He was bundled in a great coat to stave off the chill, but the cold gave his cheeks a ruddy quality that made him look a little like a sexier, more rugged version of Santa. If Santa had broad shoulders and strong thighs and looked like a warrior wielding a sword, that is. "Keeps me skills sharp," Sean replied, then gave Orlando a quick, conspiratorial wink. "Besides, I like to dream big."
Orlando just snorted. "Dreaming's all you're doing, mate." They'd been at this particular game for three days, and Sean had yet to make a move that had surprised him. "Besides," he said, giving Bernard his most blinding smile, "Sean's the best competition I have."
Bernard harrumphed and continued on his way to the crafts services table. Orlando vaguely hoped he wouldn’t steal all of the raisin scones again. Hard to believe such a pillar of British acting could be such a klepto.
"I think you hurt his feelings," Sean remarked, once Bernard was out of earshot.
"I think he thinks he's good at chess and he's total shite at it," Orlando replied. "And check."
Sean looked at the board and swore. "Son of a..."
"I think Harry's still in love with Karl."
Sean paused with his fingers still on his rook. His eyes glittered like emeralds, hard and implacable. "Do what?"
"Sorry, I didn't..." Christ, one day he really would learn. Where the hell had that even come from? He hadn't even been thinking about Karl or Harry. "I mean, I don't think that Karl's ever cheated or anything..."
Sean waved him off before he blathered on even more, for which Orlando was grateful. "It's alright. I know where Karl and I stand. Why do you think that?" He didn't look angry, which was a relief. Last thing Orlando wanted was Sean in a strop with him.
"Just the way Harry talks about him." Since Sean wasn't biting his head off for making inappropriate remarks, Orlando took the time to think about the last time he'd talked to Harry. No matter what Marton and Craig said, something wasn't right. "You have any idea why it ended?"
"Not a one. Karl's never said." Sean didn't look like it bothered him much. "His life is his business. I'm happy enough to keep him company."
"Must be nice to be that secure in yourself," Orlando murmured. At this point, he'd gone on more bad dates than a chick in a rom-com film.
A steady hand, paper dry and callused, closed over his own. "You're young, 'Lan," Sean said softly. "You're allowed your insecurities."
He squeezed back, felt the warmth of Sean's hand burning into his own. "Thanks."
When Sean said it, Orlando didn't feel like such a failure.
***
Pub crawls at the end of the work day were taken very seriously. With so many cast members and crew swarming around, it was easy to form little units, break off into cliques. Pub nights were a way to throw everyone together, have a few drinks, share stories that hadn't been told a million times. Orlando drank the entire experience in like it was water and he was parched. He'd never known men like these - full of craziness and life and silly arguments that meant nothing and everything. It made him realize just how much he'd been missing with the crowd he'd run with - not that they were bad blokes, but they'd all been more concerned with the next spot of trouble or the next girl than anything else.
"I dunno, Karl, Sean might be onto something." Orlando lifted his mug in emphasis, a little sloshing over the sides. He was still trying to develop a better head for alcohol, but so far, he was failing spectacularly. But, as his gran always said, practice made perfect. And Orlando was no quitter.
Karl stared at Orlando like he’d lost his mind. The conversations at the other end of the table continued, but their end was quiet enough. "What’re you talking about?" Karl asked. "Caesar was clearly the better ruler. He was the best emperor Rome’d ever known. And a bloody fierce warrior."
"So how come Xena was always kicking his arse, mate?" Orlando asked, and took another sip. He was still experimenting with ales. Light ones. He hadn't quite worked his way up to Trappist yet, and wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to drink something that looked like it could sit on his chest until he forked over his lunch money.
"Well, the show was called 'Xena, Warrior Princess'," Sean helpfully pointed out.
"Exactly!" Karl jabbed his finger on the table for emphasis. "You can bet your sweet arse if the show had been called 'Caesar, the Magnificent', it’d be a completely different story."
"Course it would." Sean raised his voice so they could hear over Bernard's loud bark of laughter.
"Anyway, point is, Caesar was definitely the better man. And definitely the better lover," Karl stated, wiping foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
"Come again?" Sean asked, eyes slightly glazed. He was clearly distracted by the fullness of Karl's lips glistening with ale.
Orlando inwardly groaned. He knew exactly where this discussion was going. With Karl, everything eventually wound back to sex, especially if Sean was in the vicinity. In another few minutes, Sean and Karl would disappear together, leaving Orlando alone to either John's long-winded stories of working with Harrison Ford (again), Ian's well-meaning advice on how to woo women (again), which was too ironic even for Orlando's warped sense of humor, or, fuck forbid, Billy and/or Viggo goading him into trying a new drink (also, again). Which never ended well. He still couldn't smell licorice without wanting to lose his lunch.
He was somewhat saved when Harry slid into the chair next to him, and promptly stole Karl's mug of beer. Orlando waited a beat for Karl to say something, and raised an eyebrow when the objection never came. "Did you all realize that Viggo makes raccoon sushi?" Harry asked, without preamble.
Sean and Orlando blinked at each other in confusion, then turned to Harry. Karl didn't so much as twitch. "You sure it wasn't sashimi?" Karl asked, like this was a normal conversation. Even Orlando, who thought of himself as a pretty good friend of Harry's, was thoroughly in the dark.
"Could be. I wasn't really paying attention. He does tend to ramble on, doesn't he?"
"It's part of his charm, so he tells me. Have you eaten?" Karl asked, sounding every inch the concerned boyfriend that he hadn't been for at least a year. Orlando glanced at Sean to see his reaction, but Sean looked like this was a perfectly regular occurrence.
"Seriously, this seems normal to you?" he asked, pitching his voice so only Sean could hear. Karl had walked up to the bar to order Harry a burger and chips and another beer.
"Yeah," Sean shrugged, and picked up his mug. "That's Karl. Sexiest mother hen in all of New Zealand."
Orlando couldn't say he disagreed. But then he decided he didn't want to know further. He had enough to worry about with his own attempts at a love life, let alone trying to figure out everyone else's tangled webs.
"C'mon, then, I'll beat you at darts again."
"That was luck last time," Sean said, but stood up. "Heading to the dart board," he told Karl, when he walked back to the table.
"My money's on you, love," Karl said, saluting him with his fresh mug.
"I'll bet on Orlando, then, just to make it even," Harry said, with a wink in Orlando's direction.
"You're a proper mate, you are," Orlando replied, and tapped Sean on the back. "Ready to lose to me twice in one day?"
Sean pressed a quick, casual kiss to Karl's lips before turning. "Not on your life."
Karl waited until they were just out of earshot before he sat down, this time next to Harry. "I hope you're not betting much. Sean lost on purpose last time they played to keep Orlando from thinking about some dust up going on with his family."
Harry wasn't surprised. For all Sean's bluster, he was as soft on Orlando as the rest of them. "They're getting cozy these days," he observed, watching as Sean looped a friendly arm around Orlando's shoulders to pull him into a manly sort of hug. It was one of those things that Sean was quite good at, but Harry'd never learned the art of. He was great with observing the world around him and creating visuals and moods with a camera or a pen, but he'd never mastered the little things when it pertained to real life.
"Orlando's still a little lost," Karl said, after taking a healthy sip of his beer. "I think having Sean around makes him not quite as homesick or heartsick or whichever it is that week."
"You don't mind him being around?"
Karl looked genuinely surprised. "Why should I? Orlando's one of my best friends, and besides, who am I to complain when Sean puts up with you prancing about underfoot."
Prancing, indeed. As if Karl couldn't remember Harry's two left feet. "I'm a mite too clumsy for that."
"Not where it counted," Karl smiled, and Harry thought he really might do anything for that smile. In fact, it was Karl's smile - the half-wicked, half-flirty one - that Harry had fallen in love with first. Not that it had taken him too long to fall in love with the rest of Karl, but that smile still had the power to stutter his heart.
It was on the tip of his tongue finally ask - what happened, where did we go wrong, is there hope for us one day - but he didn't. He could hear Orlando's curious voice in his head, remembered their conversation, his reply. The thing was, though, Harry'd been telling the truth. It wasn't important enough to ask a year ago - to risk his friendship with Karl - and it really wasn't now. Sure, he missed the sex and waking up next to Karl in the morning, but Karl meant so much more to him than a warm body. Best not to fuck with it. They really were fine and right as they were.
"Guess not," he replied. "Next free day you've got, you should come around the house, help me and Orlando plant the rest of the koromiko."
"You're letting Orlando near your garden?"
"He takes direction well," Harry shrugged, toying with the napkin under his glass.
The corners of Karl's eyes crinkled with mirth. Harry tried very hard not to count the lines. "Don’t let him hear you say that."
"I'm daft, Karl, not stupid."
Both grinned. "Yeah, alright, I'm in," Karl said. "Someone's go to see to it you two put in an honest afternoon's work."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Might want to bring Sean along, then, since I don’t think you've been honest a day in your life."
It was worth the small dig to hear Karl's beautifully unrestrained laughter.
(To Be Continued)