Walk on By - part XI
WALK ON BY - XI
Author: Lottie Lenya Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Ana, get well soon love!
A/N: This chapter is for nitw1t who has been waiting oh so patiently for me to update and also for MissMolly9 just because.
‘Either Greg’s back or your sister’s come to stay…’
Standing in front of the cheese counter at Morrison’s, Orlando started violently; turning round, he gazed into the face of his training partner, Terry.
‘Tel, what the fuck are you doing here? So why would you think that Charlie’s staying with me, last I heard she was bumming her way round Oz and you know Greg and me are histoire.’
Terry grinned, gesticulating at Orlando’s shopping. ‘Well, what’s with all the healthy shit?’ He begun to dig around the trolley. ‘No snacks, no beer, no sausages and you’re actually buying organic milk - how gay is that?’
Orlando rolled his eyes. He knew he would never hear the last of this.
‘I’ve got a mate staying with me, Tel, he’s been really sick and they told me to give him healthy food.’
Terry took a step backwards and Orlando knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘No you fucking knob, he hasn’t got the big A and even if he had you wouldn’t be able to catch it unless you let him fuck you. I thought we’d got over all that shit, you cunt….’
Terry hastened to interrupt. ‘Get back in your pram, Flower. What is your problem, I know exactly who you’ve got staying. George told me. And I don’t fancy another dose of nits you twat. Last time I got ‘em, I had to take a week off work…. Actually,’ he stepped closer, ‘that’s not a bad idea, could do with some time off. The wife wants the bathroom decorated.’
Orlando relaxed. When they’d first met, Terry had been vehemently homophobic and it had taken months of serious drinking, sparring and long conversations about what gay men did and didn’t do for him to get out of that mindset. The upshot was that Orlando was the proud godfather of Terry’s youngest son, Freddie, named after Freddie Ljundberg. Both men were looking forward to the time when they could take the lad to his first match, though at only eight months old, that time was a way off.
‘So ‘Lan, you wanna go get a pint?’
For a moment Orlando was tempted, and then he thought of Viggo, alone in a strange place, frightened and probably very hungry. He shook his head.
‘Nah, mate. Gotta get back, stuff to do, you know how it is…’
Terry looked quizzical. ‘Did I hear that right, did Orlando Bloom just turn down a pint? Has hell suddenly frozen over? Wait till George hears about….’
He broke off, Orlando was clearly furious. When he begun to speak, his tone was positively glacial.
‘Let’s get one thing straight, Terry. George is not my guv’nor any more, Bicknall is. Now while I am the first to admit this is not an ideal scenario, I don’t have to listen to your fucking opinion, nor George’s nor anyone else’s.’ He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying not to lose his rag completely. ‘So basically, Tel, you’ve gotta keep your nose out of my business, unless of course you want us to fall out permanently. I don’t mind a bit of ribbing but at the end of the day I don’t give a flying fuck what you, George or anyone else thinks of my domestic situation.’
Terry could hear the subtext of the speech loud and clear; he backed off accordingly.
‘Right then mate, so you coming to the match on Saturday?’
Orlando replied as if they’d been discussing the weather.
‘Yeah, course. Liverpool at home, we’ll slaughter them….’
****
Half an hour later, Orlando quietly let himself into the flat. Viggo was tucked up in bed, his chest rattling as he breathed; Orlando sat down on the floor, watching him for a moment. Much to his surprise Viggo’s hair had turned out to be a honey blond colour; long and in very bad condition; he’d worry about that when they’d sorted the lice problem out. Standing up, he gently stroked Viggo’s warm cheek; even in his sleep Viggo flinched. Orlando carried on stroking him until Viggo’s hand came up and brought Orlando’s fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. For a moment Orlando was spellbound, starring down until Viggo’s eyes opened and he smiled. The smile transfixed his face and Orlando felt his stomach turn over.
‘I was just gonna put the kettle on, you wanna a cup of tea?’ His tone was harsher than he meant it to be, concealing the emotions he was fighting.
The smile faded from Viggo’s face, the rabbit in the headlight look was back.
‘Please.’ He whispered, terrified of what might happen next.
Orlando felt that familiar pang of guilt that dealing with Viggo so often inspired. He smiled and leaning over, swiftly kissed the furrowed brow, pausing to once more stroke Viggo’s cheek, he turned to go, calling over his shoulder.
‘Two teas coming right up.’
Viggo stared after him, unconsciously touching the place where Orlando had kissed him.
****
Orlando was on the phone.
‘Hiya babe, how’s tricks? Yep I’m fine; yeah of course I’ve got a favour… You what, nah I haven’t decided that you’re the one woman in the world that I’d give up cock for, daft baggage. No, I have a humungoid favour to ask. What you doing this week?’
****
‘There you go mate, a steaming cuppa, I’ll just put it on the bedside table here, okay?’
Viggo looked wistfully at the departing back, wondering if Orlando was ever going to stop running from him. He sat up carefully and picked up the tea; lost in thought he didn’t hear Orlando come back into the room.
‘Shift your legs mate, let me sit down a moment.’
Orlando sat down and grinned.
‘We’re getting a visit tomorrow from my good friend Shelley. She is gonna make you feel sooooo good that I’m almost jealous.’
Viggo could hear the teasing note in Orlando’s voice and raised an eyebrow.
‘Shell’s a chiropodist. I’ve asked her to come round and do something about your feet. Oh and while I remember, I’m gonna take you to visit the tooth fairy in a few days. What d’you reckon?’
‘Tooth fairy? Who’s the tooth fairy?
Orlando took a swig of tea and reached for a cigarette, twirling it around his fingers. Viggo had noticed that there was open packets of Marlboro Lights all over the flat.
Continuing to play with the unlit cigarette, Orlando laughed. ‘My dentist, Gary, he’s camper than a row of tents and absolutely brilliant. I’ve been seeing him since I moved to London; he doesn’t take on new NHS clients anymore but maybe he’ll take you on if I ask him nicely. Though…’ here he grimaced. ‘It’ll cost me.’
Viggo grinned back at him. ‘Go on, cost you what?’
‘Blimey, babe, is that a real life smile on your eke, quick, alert the world’s media!’ It occurred to Orlando how rarely Viggo smiled or, come to that, spoke.
‘He does poxy art classes and last time he fixed my teeth after I had an argument with some nonce’s fist, he didn’t charge me but I had to go and pose for his life class. Was fucking embarrassing, I’d been working nights and I had a sitting pose, promptly fell asleep and when the cunts woke me up I’d been dribbling.’ He chuckled. ‘And apparently I was snoring.’ He snorted. ‘Total bullshit of course, I asked Greg and it’s official. I do not snore!’
Finishing his tea, Orlando took Viggo’s empty cup. ‘Right, the pasta should be ready in two minutes. Then I’ve got this cream the chemist recommended, apparently I rub it all over you, and then wrap you up in some sheets, leave you to cook a while and then give you another soak.’
Viggo gulped imagining Orlando’s hands all over his body. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the man who he was slowly falling for.
****
Lying in some old sheets that were covered in paint splatters, Viggo felt warm, cosy and safe. Orlando had popped outside to have a smoke, commenting that being surrounded by cigarette smoke wasn’t going to do Viggo’s cough any good and forbidding Viggo’s request for just one drag. Zero 7 was playing in the background; Viggo had been surprised by Orlando’s music collection as by his array of books. The water tank gurgled as the bath slowly filled. Viggo wondered how long he would be able to stay here. What was going to happen to him? He knew that a few more days of this and returning to the streets would be almost impossible. He shuddered again, he knew he needed to talk to Orlando but was too frightened of the answers to do so.
***
Orlando helped Viggo into the bath carefully, his plaster cast once again wrapped in black bin liners. An alarm went off reminding him that it was time for the patient to take his antibiotics. Leaving Viggo to soak in the warm water, Orlando collected the pills and a glass of water. Coming back, he was struck by the lines of Viggo’s body; he said nothing and the mood was broken when Viggo started coughing and retching. Picking up the bowl, he held it under Viggo’s chin.
Even as the pain shot through him, Viggo was aware of Orlando’s fingers threading through his hair.
‘You done?’ When Viggo nodded, Orlando emptied the bowl and began painstakingly working on the skin that was finally coming clean. Viggo lay back passively, watching Orlando through half closed eyes.
‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’ He wondered whether he’d said the words out loud when Orlando looked at him quizzically…
TBC
Author: Lottie Lenya Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: Ana, get well soon love!
A/N: This chapter is for nitw1t who has been waiting oh so patiently for me to update and also for MissMolly9 just because.
‘Either Greg’s back or your sister’s come to stay…’
Standing in front of the cheese counter at Morrison’s, Orlando started violently; turning round, he gazed into the face of his training partner, Terry.
‘Tel, what the fuck are you doing here? So why would you think that Charlie’s staying with me, last I heard she was bumming her way round Oz and you know Greg and me are histoire.’
Terry grinned, gesticulating at Orlando’s shopping. ‘Well, what’s with all the healthy shit?’ He begun to dig around the trolley. ‘No snacks, no beer, no sausages and you’re actually buying organic milk - how gay is that?’
Orlando rolled his eyes. He knew he would never hear the last of this.
‘I’ve got a mate staying with me, Tel, he’s been really sick and they told me to give him healthy food.’
Terry took a step backwards and Orlando knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘No you fucking knob, he hasn’t got the big A and even if he had you wouldn’t be able to catch it unless you let him fuck you. I thought we’d got over all that shit, you cunt….’
Terry hastened to interrupt. ‘Get back in your pram, Flower. What is your problem, I know exactly who you’ve got staying. George told me. And I don’t fancy another dose of nits you twat. Last time I got ‘em, I had to take a week off work…. Actually,’ he stepped closer, ‘that’s not a bad idea, could do with some time off. The wife wants the bathroom decorated.’
Orlando relaxed. When they’d first met, Terry had been vehemently homophobic and it had taken months of serious drinking, sparring and long conversations about what gay men did and didn’t do for him to get out of that mindset. The upshot was that Orlando was the proud godfather of Terry’s youngest son, Freddie, named after Freddie Ljundberg. Both men were looking forward to the time when they could take the lad to his first match, though at only eight months old, that time was a way off.
‘So ‘Lan, you wanna go get a pint?’
For a moment Orlando was tempted, and then he thought of Viggo, alone in a strange place, frightened and probably very hungry. He shook his head.
‘Nah, mate. Gotta get back, stuff to do, you know how it is…’
Terry looked quizzical. ‘Did I hear that right, did Orlando Bloom just turn down a pint? Has hell suddenly frozen over? Wait till George hears about….’
He broke off, Orlando was clearly furious. When he begun to speak, his tone was positively glacial.
‘Let’s get one thing straight, Terry. George is not my guv’nor any more, Bicknall is. Now while I am the first to admit this is not an ideal scenario, I don’t have to listen to your fucking opinion, nor George’s nor anyone else’s.’ He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying not to lose his rag completely. ‘So basically, Tel, you’ve gotta keep your nose out of my business, unless of course you want us to fall out permanently. I don’t mind a bit of ribbing but at the end of the day I don’t give a flying fuck what you, George or anyone else thinks of my domestic situation.’
Terry could hear the subtext of the speech loud and clear; he backed off accordingly.
‘Right then mate, so you coming to the match on Saturday?’
Orlando replied as if they’d been discussing the weather.
‘Yeah, course. Liverpool at home, we’ll slaughter them….’
****
Half an hour later, Orlando quietly let himself into the flat. Viggo was tucked up in bed, his chest rattling as he breathed; Orlando sat down on the floor, watching him for a moment. Much to his surprise Viggo’s hair had turned out to be a honey blond colour; long and in very bad condition; he’d worry about that when they’d sorted the lice problem out. Standing up, he gently stroked Viggo’s warm cheek; even in his sleep Viggo flinched. Orlando carried on stroking him until Viggo’s hand came up and brought Orlando’s fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. For a moment Orlando was spellbound, starring down until Viggo’s eyes opened and he smiled. The smile transfixed his face and Orlando felt his stomach turn over.
‘I was just gonna put the kettle on, you wanna a cup of tea?’ His tone was harsher than he meant it to be, concealing the emotions he was fighting.
The smile faded from Viggo’s face, the rabbit in the headlight look was back.
‘Please.’ He whispered, terrified of what might happen next.
Orlando felt that familiar pang of guilt that dealing with Viggo so often inspired. He smiled and leaning over, swiftly kissed the furrowed brow, pausing to once more stroke Viggo’s cheek, he turned to go, calling over his shoulder.
‘Two teas coming right up.’
Viggo stared after him, unconsciously touching the place where Orlando had kissed him.
****
Orlando was on the phone.
‘Hiya babe, how’s tricks? Yep I’m fine; yeah of course I’ve got a favour… You what, nah I haven’t decided that you’re the one woman in the world that I’d give up cock for, daft baggage. No, I have a humungoid favour to ask. What you doing this week?’
****
‘There you go mate, a steaming cuppa, I’ll just put it on the bedside table here, okay?’
Viggo looked wistfully at the departing back, wondering if Orlando was ever going to stop running from him. He sat up carefully and picked up the tea; lost in thought he didn’t hear Orlando come back into the room.
‘Shift your legs mate, let me sit down a moment.’
Orlando sat down and grinned.
‘We’re getting a visit tomorrow from my good friend Shelley. She is gonna make you feel sooooo good that I’m almost jealous.’
Viggo could hear the teasing note in Orlando’s voice and raised an eyebrow.
‘Shell’s a chiropodist. I’ve asked her to come round and do something about your feet. Oh and while I remember, I’m gonna take you to visit the tooth fairy in a few days. What d’you reckon?’
‘Tooth fairy? Who’s the tooth fairy?
Orlando took a swig of tea and reached for a cigarette, twirling it around his fingers. Viggo had noticed that there was open packets of Marlboro Lights all over the flat.
Continuing to play with the unlit cigarette, Orlando laughed. ‘My dentist, Gary, he’s camper than a row of tents and absolutely brilliant. I’ve been seeing him since I moved to London; he doesn’t take on new NHS clients anymore but maybe he’ll take you on if I ask him nicely. Though…’ here he grimaced. ‘It’ll cost me.’
Viggo grinned back at him. ‘Go on, cost you what?’
‘Blimey, babe, is that a real life smile on your eke, quick, alert the world’s media!’ It occurred to Orlando how rarely Viggo smiled or, come to that, spoke.
‘He does poxy art classes and last time he fixed my teeth after I had an argument with some nonce’s fist, he didn’t charge me but I had to go and pose for his life class. Was fucking embarrassing, I’d been working nights and I had a sitting pose, promptly fell asleep and when the cunts woke me up I’d been dribbling.’ He chuckled. ‘And apparently I was snoring.’ He snorted. ‘Total bullshit of course, I asked Greg and it’s official. I do not snore!’
Finishing his tea, Orlando took Viggo’s empty cup. ‘Right, the pasta should be ready in two minutes. Then I’ve got this cream the chemist recommended, apparently I rub it all over you, and then wrap you up in some sheets, leave you to cook a while and then give you another soak.’
Viggo gulped imagining Orlando’s hands all over his body. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the man who he was slowly falling for.
****
Lying in some old sheets that were covered in paint splatters, Viggo felt warm, cosy and safe. Orlando had popped outside to have a smoke, commenting that being surrounded by cigarette smoke wasn’t going to do Viggo’s cough any good and forbidding Viggo’s request for just one drag. Zero 7 was playing in the background; Viggo had been surprised by Orlando’s music collection as by his array of books. The water tank gurgled as the bath slowly filled. Viggo wondered how long he would be able to stay here. What was going to happen to him? He knew that a few more days of this and returning to the streets would be almost impossible. He shuddered again, he knew he needed to talk to Orlando but was too frightened of the answers to do so.
***
Orlando helped Viggo into the bath carefully, his plaster cast once again wrapped in black bin liners. An alarm went off reminding him that it was time for the patient to take his antibiotics. Leaving Viggo to soak in the warm water, Orlando collected the pills and a glass of water. Coming back, he was struck by the lines of Viggo’s body; he said nothing and the mood was broken when Viggo started coughing and retching. Picking up the bowl, he held it under Viggo’s chin.
Even as the pain shot through him, Viggo was aware of Orlando’s fingers threading through his hair.
‘You done?’ When Viggo nodded, Orlando emptied the bowl and began painstakingly working on the skin that was finally coming clean. Viggo lay back passively, watching Orlando through half closed eyes.
‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’ He wondered whether he’d said the words out loud when Orlando looked at him quizzically…
TBC