Switzerland v Portugal
Title : Switzerland v Portugal (Group A, game five)
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-13
Summary : Football … yep, that’s right !
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
Author’s Note : For the none football lovers.
“Hurry up ‘Lan,” Sean muttered. Orlando was saying goodbye to Ed and Claire, he was holding the baby in his arms and seemed to be deep in conversation. They still had plenty of time, kick off wasn’t until 7.45 but it was 5.30 already and if they hit traffic…
Meanwhile Claire was teasing Orlando.
“You immortal beloved has been like a cat on a hot tin roof since I served dessert, what’s up with him?”
Ed grinned and shook his head.
“He’s terrified you guys aren’t going to get home before kick off yes?” he shook his head. “I did warn Claire it was pointless expecting much conversation beyond the main course but …”
“No you didn’t but this is the last weekend we could do this before I go away,” Claire was a make up artist and she was about to head off on location. Before a big job she always had a huge lunch party which normally went on until the early hours of the morning but obviously not when there was football in the office.
Passing the little man back to his mother and giving last minute hugs all round, Orlando rolled his eyes. “He’s hellacious you know that right?” he looked over to where Sean was gesticulating wildly. “I better go,” he kissed the baby one last time and jogged over to the car.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered as Sean took off with a screech of tyres and a veritable spray of gravel. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Yeah, well, spose we meet traffic?”
“Well suppose we do? We’ve got bags of time.”
Famous last words.
“What match are we going to watch then?” anything to dilute the feeling of tension in the car. It was a shame. Sean was very fond of Claire and Ed, they should’ve stayed there to watch the football but they only had a 40” screen. Sean had installed a behemoth plasma monstrosity in their living rooms when Orlando had been away filming. By the time he got home it was a done deal.
Now they were roughly 45 minutes away from home and the first hold up in the form of a police car with flashing lights was creeping up their backside.
“Oh fuck,” Sean noticed they were being motioned to the side of the road. He pulled over and wound down the window.
“Would you like to step outside the car sir …” the young constable did a double take when he leant in and met the smouldering glance of one Sean Bean. He did a triple take when he noticed that the passenger was Orlando Bloom for fuck’s sake.
“What seems to be the problem?” Sean was in no mood to be nice.
“Would you … could you … Please … blow into this bag?”
“What the fuuuuu…” Sean broke off. He hadn’t had a drink for long enough for him not to be worried he just didn’t understand why he had to.
“This is a good time to catch drink drivers,” the constable didn’t like the look in the big man’s eye. It was not promising. “On their way home from the pub to watch the match,” he handed the bag over and watched Sean. “And could you sign something for me? I love Sharpe, I used to watch it when I was a kid, I got all the DVDs and I can’t …” he broke off.
Orlando was listening to this interchange with the greatest of enjoyment. He couldn’t see Sean’s face but he could imagine it. Of course he passed the breathalyser, he hadn’t drunk anything for over 24 hours and then he signed some pieces of paper for the young constable and even waited while Orlando signed something too.
“What match are we gonna watch?” Orlando’s lips twitched as they finally got back on their way.
“Turkey, no point watching the other one, Portugal are though and Switzerland are out, I wanna watch the one that counts and frankly …” Orlando switched off and thought about fisting Sean instead, it was some time since he had and he and Elijah had been discussing it recently. His reverie was interrupted when he realised they had just hit a huge traffic jam.
“We can listen on the radio, baby,” Orlando sat up as the atmosphere in the car great more heated. “Sean, for god’s sake, we can listen to it and I’ve set Sky to record both of the matches anyway, will you please just get a grip?”
“It’s gonna turn into that episode of The Likely Lads,” Sean sounded mournful. “We’ll have to hide from the result…” the idea cheered him strangely if only momentarily. Of course Orlando didn’t remember Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads, a sitcom written by his favourite writers, Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, well to Sean they were your actual gods. Unlike Orlando, he could remember the youthful James Bolam and Rodney Bewes as two Newcastle ‘likely lads’ trying not to discover the result of an England match until they could watch it on TV later that day. He decided he would find the DVDs and after the football they would have a mammoth session.
All these thoughts stopped him blowing a gasket as the minutes ticked by and they moved less and less frequently.
“We’re fucked,” there was only so much prevarication Sean could take. “We’re gonna miss the fucking match, I can’t believe it, fuck fuck fuck!”
Orlando rested his hand on his boy’s knee. “We’ll only miss some of it, and we can listen to Switzerland Portugal until we get home, just don’t start yelling, no one’s sick or in trouble. It’s important but …”
Sighing Sean nodded. “Okay, but I am not going out to lunch or anything again, not until after…”
“You’re the fucking godfather,” Orlando tried not to sound irritated. “Remember? You not me and you said you wanted to go, look you can drive a whole five yards…”
He was going to be exhausted long before they got home.
Switzerland 2-0 Portugal
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-13
Summary : Football … yep, that’s right !
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
Author’s Note : For the none football lovers.
“Hurry up ‘Lan,” Sean muttered. Orlando was saying goodbye to Ed and Claire, he was holding the baby in his arms and seemed to be deep in conversation. They still had plenty of time, kick off wasn’t until 7.45 but it was 5.30 already and if they hit traffic…
Meanwhile Claire was teasing Orlando.
“You immortal beloved has been like a cat on a hot tin roof since I served dessert, what’s up with him?”
Ed grinned and shook his head.
“He’s terrified you guys aren’t going to get home before kick off yes?” he shook his head. “I did warn Claire it was pointless expecting much conversation beyond the main course but …”
“No you didn’t but this is the last weekend we could do this before I go away,” Claire was a make up artist and she was about to head off on location. Before a big job she always had a huge lunch party which normally went on until the early hours of the morning but obviously not when there was football in the office.
Passing the little man back to his mother and giving last minute hugs all round, Orlando rolled his eyes. “He’s hellacious you know that right?” he looked over to where Sean was gesticulating wildly. “I better go,” he kissed the baby one last time and jogged over to the car.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered as Sean took off with a screech of tyres and a veritable spray of gravel. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Yeah, well, spose we meet traffic?”
“Well suppose we do? We’ve got bags of time.”
Famous last words.
“What match are we going to watch then?” anything to dilute the feeling of tension in the car. It was a shame. Sean was very fond of Claire and Ed, they should’ve stayed there to watch the football but they only had a 40” screen. Sean had installed a behemoth plasma monstrosity in their living rooms when Orlando had been away filming. By the time he got home it was a done deal.
Now they were roughly 45 minutes away from home and the first hold up in the form of a police car with flashing lights was creeping up their backside.
“Oh fuck,” Sean noticed they were being motioned to the side of the road. He pulled over and wound down the window.
“Would you like to step outside the car sir …” the young constable did a double take when he leant in and met the smouldering glance of one Sean Bean. He did a triple take when he noticed that the passenger was Orlando Bloom for fuck’s sake.
“What seems to be the problem?” Sean was in no mood to be nice.
“Would you … could you … Please … blow into this bag?”
“What the fuuuuu…” Sean broke off. He hadn’t had a drink for long enough for him not to be worried he just didn’t understand why he had to.
“This is a good time to catch drink drivers,” the constable didn’t like the look in the big man’s eye. It was not promising. “On their way home from the pub to watch the match,” he handed the bag over and watched Sean. “And could you sign something for me? I love Sharpe, I used to watch it when I was a kid, I got all the DVDs and I can’t …” he broke off.
Orlando was listening to this interchange with the greatest of enjoyment. He couldn’t see Sean’s face but he could imagine it. Of course he passed the breathalyser, he hadn’t drunk anything for over 24 hours and then he signed some pieces of paper for the young constable and even waited while Orlando signed something too.
“What match are we gonna watch?” Orlando’s lips twitched as they finally got back on their way.
“Turkey, no point watching the other one, Portugal are though and Switzerland are out, I wanna watch the one that counts and frankly …” Orlando switched off and thought about fisting Sean instead, it was some time since he had and he and Elijah had been discussing it recently. His reverie was interrupted when he realised they had just hit a huge traffic jam.
“We can listen on the radio, baby,” Orlando sat up as the atmosphere in the car great more heated. “Sean, for god’s sake, we can listen to it and I’ve set Sky to record both of the matches anyway, will you please just get a grip?”
“It’s gonna turn into that episode of The Likely Lads,” Sean sounded mournful. “We’ll have to hide from the result…” the idea cheered him strangely if only momentarily. Of course Orlando didn’t remember Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads, a sitcom written by his favourite writers, Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, well to Sean they were your actual gods. Unlike Orlando, he could remember the youthful James Bolam and Rodney Bewes as two Newcastle ‘likely lads’ trying not to discover the result of an England match until they could watch it on TV later that day. He decided he would find the DVDs and after the football they would have a mammoth session.
All these thoughts stopped him blowing a gasket as the minutes ticked by and they moved less and less frequently.
“We’re fucked,” there was only so much prevarication Sean could take. “We’re gonna miss the fucking match, I can’t believe it, fuck fuck fuck!”
Orlando rested his hand on his boy’s knee. “We’ll only miss some of it, and we can listen to Switzerland Portugal until we get home, just don’t start yelling, no one’s sick or in trouble. It’s important but …”
Sighing Sean nodded. “Okay, but I am not going out to lunch or anything again, not until after…”
“You’re the fucking godfather,” Orlando tried not to sound irritated. “Remember? You not me and you said you wanted to go, look you can drive a whole five yards…”
He was going to be exhausted long before they got home.
Switzerland 2-0 Portugal