[FIC] RPF: cross-eyed for good luck
For this, I'd like to thank caras_galadhon because she gave me the idea long ago. It's kind of obvious once you read it to know why. :3 I'm almost sorry for using it in a fic with Orlando, though, but I hope you like my Orlando anyway. 8D
cross-eyed for good luck
Characters/Pairing: Sean Bean/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Words: ~500
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: Orlando has a problem. Written for afra_schatz.
The phone rang. Sean nearly dropped the pan he was washing, scrambling slightly to dry his hands on the towel before he grabbed the phone and picked it up.
"Bean, I can't cross my eyes."
Sometimes Sean wondered why he needed caller-ID at all. It was really far too easy to figure out was calling him every time. But then again, both Viggo and Orlando seemed to like starting conversations in the middle without telling him the beginning, and sometimes he was far too drunk to figure out the differences in accents.
Not that he needed to. His reply was always the same.
"Wot?"
Orlando sighed. Melodramatically. "I can't cross my eyes."
"Alrigh'," Sean shoved the phone between his shoulder and jaw, holding it there while he continued washing the dishes. "Why are ya tryin'?"
"You told me to cross everything I've got for your MacBeth opening night."
"So I did."
"Well, I crossed all my fingers. Even my thumbs! But I had to stop that so I could call you. I crossed my toes too. But then when I'm waiting for you to pick up - and man, you took a hell of a long time to pick up, are you going slow in your old age? - I remembered that I can cross my eyes. So I tried. But I can't."
Sean dried the pan and placed it on the rack.
"What's the problem wi' it?"
"Apparently my eyes keep sliding away. I think. I can't tell."
"Ya can find a mirror?"
"I'm standing in front of one! Why, are you going to ask me to take off my clothes?"
Sean pretended he didn't hear that. He started to dry another dish. "Ya take one 'and off the phone. Uncross those fingers. Put yer index finger right in front o' ya. Straight in front."
"As straight as my nose and as straight as yours isn't?"
"Look, ya want me 'elp wi' this or not?"
"Shutting up now."
"Anyway," he continued. The phone was slipping off his shoulder. He shoved it back up. "Put yer finger there, and focus on it. Really concentrate."
"How hard do I have to concentrate?"
"Like ya are tryin' ta drink one of Dom's Blowjobs withou' touchin' the glass."
"Woah. That's a hell lot of effort. Okay, concentrating..."
"Feel yer eyes movin' yet?"
"Be quiet. I'm concentrating."
Sean finished with the dishes, dried his hands, and moved to the living room. He switched on the television.
"Ya can try liftin' yer 'ead up ta look inta the mirror."
"Shhhh, oh hey, I can! Hey, it worked!"
"There ya go," Sean said. He changed the channel to Sky and waited for the match to start. He concentrated very fiercely on the television.
"Wait." There was a scuffle. "Yeah, I'm literally crossing everything I've got here. Even my thumbs! And eyes!"
"Good lad," Sean drawled.
"So kick their arses or else I'll kick yours for making me do so much stupid crap."
End
cross-eyed for good luck
Characters/Pairing: Sean Bean/Orlando Bloom
Rating: PG
Words: ~500
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, just the product of my imagination.
Summary: Orlando has a problem. Written for afra_schatz.
The phone rang. Sean nearly dropped the pan he was washing, scrambling slightly to dry his hands on the towel before he grabbed the phone and picked it up.
"Bean, I can't cross my eyes."
Sometimes Sean wondered why he needed caller-ID at all. It was really far too easy to figure out was calling him every time. But then again, both Viggo and Orlando seemed to like starting conversations in the middle without telling him the beginning, and sometimes he was far too drunk to figure out the differences in accents.
Not that he needed to. His reply was always the same.
"Wot?"
Orlando sighed. Melodramatically. "I can't cross my eyes."
"Alrigh'," Sean shoved the phone between his shoulder and jaw, holding it there while he continued washing the dishes. "Why are ya tryin'?"
"You told me to cross everything I've got for your MacBeth opening night."
"So I did."
"Well, I crossed all my fingers. Even my thumbs! But I had to stop that so I could call you. I crossed my toes too. But then when I'm waiting for you to pick up - and man, you took a hell of a long time to pick up, are you going slow in your old age? - I remembered that I can cross my eyes. So I tried. But I can't."
Sean dried the pan and placed it on the rack.
"What's the problem wi' it?"
"Apparently my eyes keep sliding away. I think. I can't tell."
"Ya can find a mirror?"
"I'm standing in front of one! Why, are you going to ask me to take off my clothes?"
Sean pretended he didn't hear that. He started to dry another dish. "Ya take one 'and off the phone. Uncross those fingers. Put yer index finger right in front o' ya. Straight in front."
"As straight as my nose and as straight as yours isn't?"
"Look, ya want me 'elp wi' this or not?"
"Shutting up now."
"Anyway," he continued. The phone was slipping off his shoulder. He shoved it back up. "Put yer finger there, and focus on it. Really concentrate."
"How hard do I have to concentrate?"
"Like ya are tryin' ta drink one of Dom's Blowjobs withou' touchin' the glass."
"Woah. That's a hell lot of effort. Okay, concentrating..."
"Feel yer eyes movin' yet?"
"Be quiet. I'm concentrating."
Sean finished with the dishes, dried his hands, and moved to the living room. He switched on the television.
"Ya can try liftin' yer 'ead up ta look inta the mirror."
"Shhhh, oh hey, I can! Hey, it worked!"
"There ya go," Sean said. He changed the channel to Sky and waited for the match to start. He concentrated very fiercely on the television.
"Wait." There was a scuffle. "Yeah, I'm literally crossing everything I've got here. Even my thumbs! And eyes!"
"Good lad," Sean drawled.
"So kick their arses or else I'll kick yours for making me do so much stupid crap."
End