Walk on By XX
WALK ON BY - XX
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: NC-17
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: None - if you spot any howlers, please to let me know
A/N. This is for anyone who has been waiting for the next chapter - sorry it has taken so long!
"If this was a fucking TV programme, it'd all be fucking done and dusted by now. The CPS are a bunch of tossers who don't know their arse from their elbow..."
Orlando waved his beer at George who looked a little pained.
"The CPS is the Crown Prosecution Service, Vig," George filled in the blanks for Viggo who looked a bit lost.
“Yeah, the crown fucking prosecuting fuckwits,” Orlando waved his bacon sandwich around to reiterate his point. “Bunch of wankers who have no fucking clue what policing is all about. They shoot us … they shoot them in the foot the whole time, we … I mean the police, they build a case to have it shot down by those fuckers…”
George sighed, he hadn’t even got around to telling Orlando the most important part, the reason he’d popped round, not wanting the lad to hear it from anyone else.
The last few months had been pretty bloody awful for both Orlando and Viggo. Having left the force, Orlando hadn’t a clue what he wanted to do and had flitted from job to job, hating most of them but needing to make a living. Viggo had found himself bearing the brunt of his bad humours until one day a few weeks ago it had come to a head.
***
“Orlando …” Viggo was almost cowering in his seat as Orlando’s bad temper, with nothing to reign it in, had led to a stream of consciousness, slagging just about everyone he’d ever met and generally being obnoxious. He never picked directly on Viggo but he made Vig feel very uncomfortable, very vulnerable. He couldn’t go on like this.
“I want to move out…” he heard himself say. “I can’t live like this … with you anymore,” he curled up in his seat and lowered his head, not wanting to see Orlando’s reaction, scared that he might actually look relieved to be rid of him.
“You what?” Orlando couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re gonna leave? Where the fuck are you gonna go?”
“I don’t care where but I can’t … I can’t stay here when you’re like this, you scare me, I’m scared that one day … one day you’re going to hit me,” Viggo had been having bad dreams and was waking up in a cold sweat whilst Orlando snored beside him.
At this Orlando stood up and simply stared at Viggo for a long moment as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He took a step towards Viggo who cowered back, suddenly afraid.
He wondered if it ever occurred to Orlando that until relatively recently, he had been homeless, had slept on cardboard boxes in shop doorways. The damp of so many years’ sleeping rough had seeped into his bones and he was constantly troubled by little aches and pains in his joints - especially when it rained. They still had sex, great sex for the most part, it was just to Viggo that was what it was, sex. He wanted them to make love … together. But he couldn’t say all this, Orlando still shied away from anything too sentimental. And yet they both knew it was love, just not love like Viggo had expected.
The moment went on until Viggo made a movement as if to stand and then Orlando growled at him.
“Don’t move,” he stalked over and knelt down so he could rest his elbows on Viggo’s thighs. “You really think I’d hit you Vig?” his eyes were troubled and Viggo felt a twinge of guilt.
“I … I don’t think you’d mean to but yes, sometimes … ‘Lan, you’re so angry, always you’re angry and I am scared that very soon you will work out that I am to blame and you might lash out at me,” he looked down, his eyes filling with tears.
“Babe,” Orlando sounded appalled, he reaches for Viggo’s hand and kissed the palm. “You really think I’d …” he paused. “I abhor domestic violence, baby, I’d never raise my hand to you in anger or anything else,” he sighed, standing up. “Come on, let’s go to bed so we can talk properly…”
They always talked in bed; it was something they just did. Probably because it was the only place Orlando felt he could actually talk about the things that normally made him a bit antsy. He was embarrassed by the notion of talking about his feelings, well talking about anything much at all. But in bed, somehow it felt okay which meant that bed was where all their best conversations took place. Without further ado, they took themselves off and spent the rest of the day there, spent many hours talking, ended up talking long into the night.
* * *
“The point is ’Lan, Mike Roxwell is out…” there, finally George had managed to get it out. The effect on Orlando was electric. He literally dropped his sandwich and stared at George, ashen faced.
“He’s out? What the fuck are you talking about? Viggo saw him murder someone in cold blood? How the fuck can he be out?”
George sighed. “I dunno mate, there is something going on, something bigger, no one is talking and your old guv’nor has been signed off sick.”
At this Orlando did a double take, Bicknall had been known to come in with a raging temperature and a rash. He’d taken two days off when his mother died and no time off at all when his kids were born. In fact, he only went to parents’ evenings these days because, it was rumoured, Mrs Bicknall withdrew his conjugal rights for weeks at a time if he didn’t show up.
“Bick’s on the sick? What the fuck is going on George? He hasn’t taken a sick day since, well not when I was working for him…” he was thinking, completely calm now. He glanced at Viggo who was looking worried. “Don’t panic babe, Roxwell won’t come sniffing around here,” he had a feeling their case, such as it was, had ended.
“He’s disappeared,” George was miles away, he clearly had his own suspicions. “There’s talk of him landing in Manchester, though fuck knows if that’s true, I bet he’ll be supporting Man U before the season is over.”
Viggo tried and failed not to roll his eyes.
“Fucking hell George, he’s supported the Hammers since he was 3, he couldn’t … he wouldn’t … would he? What sort of cunt changes allegiance and goes over the dark side,” he ignored Viggo who was rolling his eyes again. Despite an intensive course in the art of supporting Arsenal, Viggo still didn’t really understand what Orlando and his mates got so het up about. It invariably ended with Orlando falling over in his cups and Viggo putting him to bed and helping him nurse his hangover the next day and he still didn’t get the offside rule, no matter how many times it was explained to him. He preferred that to the anger though and since their talk Orlando had been keeping a firm lid on his temper.
“Yeah well, there’s no telling what some fuckers will do,” George shook his head. “Thing is though ’Lan, we gotta find out what the fuck is going on. There’s something fishy about this and I tell you what, your ex, that slimy cunt Greg, he was involved in getting Roxwell off, word on the street is, Roxwell may have changed his identity before he headed up north but word on the street is normally total bollocks.
“I don’t believe that,” Orlando shook his head. “Come on George, who’s after him? He never grassed anyone up, who’d wanna take him out …” his mind was busy. “What the fuck has Bicknall been up to? That’s really bothering me…” he couldn’t imagine that Bick of all people was bent. His guv’nor had been a homophobic cunt but he’d always played fair with his team, had always seemed to be straight in every sense of the word.
George shook his head. “I wish I knew but I tell you what, it don’t smell right and that’s a fact and I’ll tell you something else … I am going to find out what…” glancing at Viggo, he changed the subject. “Anyway, is Vig ready for the Chelsea match next week? I reckon that if Wenger plays it cool, we could ….”
* * *
Later that night, Orlando woke up to find Viggo sitting in a chair, looking out of the window smoking. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he remarked getting out of bed and pinching the cigarette out of Viggo’s hand, and sitting on the window sill. “What’s up? You still worried about Roxwell?”
Sighing Viggo nodded, he shivered, remembering what Roxwell was capable of.
“Come on babe, lets get you warm,” Orlando knocked the end of the cigarette off, put it back in the pack and ushered Viggo to bed. When he had his man safely in his arms, he kissed him hard, pulling him even closer.
“I will never let you come to any harm okay?” he said when the broke for air. “I may not say it all the time but I love you okay? So I’ll look after you and fucking hell I hate all this hearts and flowers stuff but it’s true. Me and George’ll get to the bottom of this and it’ll all fine, well it’ll be fine after I decide what the fuck I wanna do with the rest of my life, apart from fucking you of course…” he grinned the grin that made Viggo’s stomach turn over.
“You had to spoil it didn’t you,” he muttered, snuggling against Orlando and thinking that for all the farting and refusal to indulge in girly soppiness as he called it, he’d rather have a man whose actions spoke louder than words. When as Orlando begun to snore, he decided that yes, he’d rather have a lover who snored and protected him than one who said I love you twenty times a day. After all, he knew all of Orlando’s friends and there was nothing hidden from him. He smiled and manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable position and shortly after he dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Next morning they were rudely awoken by a loud banging on the front door.
“What the fuck…” Orlando grabbed his jeans and went to answer it. There were two plain clothes men. Orlando knew they were Job the moment he saw them. “Mr Bloom? Orlando Bloom? My name is Chief Inspector Graham Danbury from the Police Complaints Commission and we’d like to ask you a few questions…”
tbc
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: NC-17
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: None - if you spot any howlers, please to let me know
A/N. This is for anyone who has been waiting for the next chapter - sorry it has taken so long!
"If this was a fucking TV programme, it'd all be fucking done and dusted by now. The CPS are a bunch of tossers who don't know their arse from their elbow..."
Orlando waved his beer at George who looked a little pained.
"The CPS is the Crown Prosecution Service, Vig," George filled in the blanks for Viggo who looked a bit lost.
“Yeah, the crown fucking prosecuting fuckwits,” Orlando waved his bacon sandwich around to reiterate his point. “Bunch of wankers who have no fucking clue what policing is all about. They shoot us … they shoot them in the foot the whole time, we … I mean the police, they build a case to have it shot down by those fuckers…”
George sighed, he hadn’t even got around to telling Orlando the most important part, the reason he’d popped round, not wanting the lad to hear it from anyone else.
The last few months had been pretty bloody awful for both Orlando and Viggo. Having left the force, Orlando hadn’t a clue what he wanted to do and had flitted from job to job, hating most of them but needing to make a living. Viggo had found himself bearing the brunt of his bad humours until one day a few weeks ago it had come to a head.
***
“Orlando …” Viggo was almost cowering in his seat as Orlando’s bad temper, with nothing to reign it in, had led to a stream of consciousness, slagging just about everyone he’d ever met and generally being obnoxious. He never picked directly on Viggo but he made Vig feel very uncomfortable, very vulnerable. He couldn’t go on like this.
“I want to move out…” he heard himself say. “I can’t live like this … with you anymore,” he curled up in his seat and lowered his head, not wanting to see Orlando’s reaction, scared that he might actually look relieved to be rid of him.
“You what?” Orlando couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re gonna leave? Where the fuck are you gonna go?”
“I don’t care where but I can’t … I can’t stay here when you’re like this, you scare me, I’m scared that one day … one day you’re going to hit me,” Viggo had been having bad dreams and was waking up in a cold sweat whilst Orlando snored beside him.
At this Orlando stood up and simply stared at Viggo for a long moment as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He took a step towards Viggo who cowered back, suddenly afraid.
He wondered if it ever occurred to Orlando that until relatively recently, he had been homeless, had slept on cardboard boxes in shop doorways. The damp of so many years’ sleeping rough had seeped into his bones and he was constantly troubled by little aches and pains in his joints - especially when it rained. They still had sex, great sex for the most part, it was just to Viggo that was what it was, sex. He wanted them to make love … together. But he couldn’t say all this, Orlando still shied away from anything too sentimental. And yet they both knew it was love, just not love like Viggo had expected.
The moment went on until Viggo made a movement as if to stand and then Orlando growled at him.
“Don’t move,” he stalked over and knelt down so he could rest his elbows on Viggo’s thighs. “You really think I’d hit you Vig?” his eyes were troubled and Viggo felt a twinge of guilt.
“I … I don’t think you’d mean to but yes, sometimes … ‘Lan, you’re so angry, always you’re angry and I am scared that very soon you will work out that I am to blame and you might lash out at me,” he looked down, his eyes filling with tears.
“Babe,” Orlando sounded appalled, he reaches for Viggo’s hand and kissed the palm. “You really think I’d …” he paused. “I abhor domestic violence, baby, I’d never raise my hand to you in anger or anything else,” he sighed, standing up. “Come on, let’s go to bed so we can talk properly…”
They always talked in bed; it was something they just did. Probably because it was the only place Orlando felt he could actually talk about the things that normally made him a bit antsy. He was embarrassed by the notion of talking about his feelings, well talking about anything much at all. But in bed, somehow it felt okay which meant that bed was where all their best conversations took place. Without further ado, they took themselves off and spent the rest of the day there, spent many hours talking, ended up talking long into the night.
* * *
“The point is ’Lan, Mike Roxwell is out…” there, finally George had managed to get it out. The effect on Orlando was electric. He literally dropped his sandwich and stared at George, ashen faced.
“He’s out? What the fuck are you talking about? Viggo saw him murder someone in cold blood? How the fuck can he be out?”
George sighed. “I dunno mate, there is something going on, something bigger, no one is talking and your old guv’nor has been signed off sick.”
At this Orlando did a double take, Bicknall had been known to come in with a raging temperature and a rash. He’d taken two days off when his mother died and no time off at all when his kids were born. In fact, he only went to parents’ evenings these days because, it was rumoured, Mrs Bicknall withdrew his conjugal rights for weeks at a time if he didn’t show up.
“Bick’s on the sick? What the fuck is going on George? He hasn’t taken a sick day since, well not when I was working for him…” he was thinking, completely calm now. He glanced at Viggo who was looking worried. “Don’t panic babe, Roxwell won’t come sniffing around here,” he had a feeling their case, such as it was, had ended.
“He’s disappeared,” George was miles away, he clearly had his own suspicions. “There’s talk of him landing in Manchester, though fuck knows if that’s true, I bet he’ll be supporting Man U before the season is over.”
Viggo tried and failed not to roll his eyes.
“Fucking hell George, he’s supported the Hammers since he was 3, he couldn’t … he wouldn’t … would he? What sort of cunt changes allegiance and goes over the dark side,” he ignored Viggo who was rolling his eyes again. Despite an intensive course in the art of supporting Arsenal, Viggo still didn’t really understand what Orlando and his mates got so het up about. It invariably ended with Orlando falling over in his cups and Viggo putting him to bed and helping him nurse his hangover the next day and he still didn’t get the offside rule, no matter how many times it was explained to him. He preferred that to the anger though and since their talk Orlando had been keeping a firm lid on his temper.
“Yeah well, there’s no telling what some fuckers will do,” George shook his head. “Thing is though ’Lan, we gotta find out what the fuck is going on. There’s something fishy about this and I tell you what, your ex, that slimy cunt Greg, he was involved in getting Roxwell off, word on the street is, Roxwell may have changed his identity before he headed up north but word on the street is normally total bollocks.
“I don’t believe that,” Orlando shook his head. “Come on George, who’s after him? He never grassed anyone up, who’d wanna take him out …” his mind was busy. “What the fuck has Bicknall been up to? That’s really bothering me…” he couldn’t imagine that Bick of all people was bent. His guv’nor had been a homophobic cunt but he’d always played fair with his team, had always seemed to be straight in every sense of the word.
George shook his head. “I wish I knew but I tell you what, it don’t smell right and that’s a fact and I’ll tell you something else … I am going to find out what…” glancing at Viggo, he changed the subject. “Anyway, is Vig ready for the Chelsea match next week? I reckon that if Wenger plays it cool, we could ….”
* * *
Later that night, Orlando woke up to find Viggo sitting in a chair, looking out of the window smoking. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he remarked getting out of bed and pinching the cigarette out of Viggo’s hand, and sitting on the window sill. “What’s up? You still worried about Roxwell?”
Sighing Viggo nodded, he shivered, remembering what Roxwell was capable of.
“Come on babe, lets get you warm,” Orlando knocked the end of the cigarette off, put it back in the pack and ushered Viggo to bed. When he had his man safely in his arms, he kissed him hard, pulling him even closer.
“I will never let you come to any harm okay?” he said when the broke for air. “I may not say it all the time but I love you okay? So I’ll look after you and fucking hell I hate all this hearts and flowers stuff but it’s true. Me and George’ll get to the bottom of this and it’ll all fine, well it’ll be fine after I decide what the fuck I wanna do with the rest of my life, apart from fucking you of course…” he grinned the grin that made Viggo’s stomach turn over.
“You had to spoil it didn’t you,” he muttered, snuggling against Orlando and thinking that for all the farting and refusal to indulge in girly soppiness as he called it, he’d rather have a man whose actions spoke louder than words. When as Orlando begun to snore, he decided that yes, he’d rather have a lover who snored and protected him than one who said I love you twenty times a day. After all, he knew all of Orlando’s friends and there was nothing hidden from him. He smiled and manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable position and shortly after he dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Next morning they were rudely awoken by a loud banging on the front door.
“What the fuck…” Orlando grabbed his jeans and went to answer it. There were two plain clothes men. Orlando knew they were Job the moment he saw them. “Mr Bloom? Orlando Bloom? My name is Chief Inspector Graham Danbury from the Police Complaints Commission and we’d like to ask you a few questions…”
tbc