"Death Does Not Become Him" Chapter 8 Orlibean
Title: Death Does Not Become Him
Chapter 8
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: R
Warnings: supernatural. minor character death, talk of death, language, VERY DARK HUMOR
Summary: What if there were people who could see how, what of and when a person will die? What if one of those people was Orlando? And how does Sean fit into all this?
Disclaimer: None of this is true. I don’t own the guys. I don’t own a working credit card machine. See icon.
Author's Note: Many, many, many thanks to my wonderful and talented beta simplyshanni *hugs you*
Chapter 1, 2, and 3 - wherein Orlando is at the diner
Chapter 4 - wherein Viggo diaglogues with Orlando
Chapter 5 - wherein Sean makes dinner for Orlando
Chapter 6 - wherein Orlando takes a little ride
Chapter 7 - wherein Orlando ‘commandeers’ a vehicle
Chapter 8
Sean had to wonder about what portal in which bloody alternate universe he stepped through to have come home to this.
To the sight of his lover holding a gun on a man who looked like he’d been beaten and hog-tied; displayed for all to see in the middle of his floor. To a nervous, stuttering Fed-Ex delivery driver talking into a phone, hopefully calling the police.
When he had first seen the delivery truck, he had thought it was the vibrating anal beads he had special-ordered.
This wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
Although, the sight of Orlando was quite welcome.
Well it had been, until the object of his desire stopped hugging and nuzzling him and started looking at him with something akin to horror.
This was the second time he had done that.
And it was getting a bit annoying.
Sean would get to the bottom of that if it was the last thing he did.
"Lad, are you alright?" he asked Orlando, looking at the man in concern. He had the same look on his face as he’d had the other night, over the kitchen sink.
"I...I...don't feel so good," Orlando stuttered before running from the room. From the sound of his retreating footsteps, Sean could tell that he was running through the hallway and into the downstairs’ bathroom. All three men, including the man lying on the floor, stopped everything they were doing when they heard Orlando retching into the toilet therein.
"Maybe it's the excitement...of the day, ya know," Shia shrugged as he put the phone down. "They're...um...sending someone over now. Cuz he had a gun and all...they said someone was in the vicinity," the young man babbled, as if Sean would be able to piece together those incoherent thoughts.
Sean looked at a very pale Orlando as he reemerged from the bathroom. He watched as the young man kept blinking his eyes open and closed as he looked back at him.
The older man quickly ran up to his lover and took him by the upper arms. “Orlando, what is it?” he asked as the young man continued to squirm about in an effort to gain his freedom. “Sorry,” Sean muttered as he dropped his hands, allowing his panicked lover to step back quickly. He watched in total confusion while Orlando continued to run his hands up and down his arms, as if trying to ward off a sudden chill.
"No, I'm sorry Sean. I...God! This is so hard!"
And then it clicked.
How could he be so insensitive!
Here was Orlando, coming over to surprise him and what had happened instead? He accidentally confronted someone who was ransacking his home and he ended up fighting with said intruder.
And then what does he do? He berates his lover as if he’s a child for fighting for what was Sean’s instead of running. And now that bloody conversation came back to haunt him because he didn’t have a bloody security system or a fucking dog!
Sean knew what this was, this thing Orlando was going through. He’d experienced it several times himself, as had his fellow firefighters. It usually happened soon after one of them had rushed into a dangerous situation. Once you came out of the incident and the adrenaline had worn off, you felt a kind of euphoria and then just as suddenly, a numbness took over. Slowly, total awareness of the peril you had just put yourself through started to sink in. Then the 'what ifs' and the 'could haves' start pressing in on you.
Just as Sean was about to say something to his lover, two men walked into the open doorway.
"LAPD," the first man, who was shorter than his partner, said as he waved his badge. "I'm Detective Steve Buscemi and this is my partner, Detective Michael Madsen." He stepped into the main room. "So what do we have here?" Det. Buscemi asked as he looked down at the man tied up on the floor. "Kinky," he smirked.
Det. Madsen sighed heavily. "They called us away for this?"
"He had a gun. You know how paranoid the Chief is. So, would someone mind telling me what happened? And who would…” Buscemi looked down at his notepad before raising his eyes inquiringly, “Sean Bean be?”
"That would be me officer," Sean responded.
"Okay, and you?" Buscemi asked as he turned to address Orlando.
If Sean thought the young man had been acting weird before, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now.
"Oh...oh God!" Orlando cried out as he held his hand to his mouth and ran from the room once again.
"Was it something I said?" the detective chuckled.
"Um...he hasn't been feeling too well," Sean muttered, covering up for Orlando's strange behavior.
"Probably bad sushi. Everyone's always eating sushi," Det. Madsen rambled. "The new fad. Who in their right mind would eat raw fish? Disgusting," the man snorted and then expectorated into a nearby potted plant.
Orlando walked back into the room and stood nervously to one side. "So I'll ask this again, sweetheart, who're you?" Buscemi reiterated.
"Orlando...Orlando Bloom," the young man stuttered, looking at anything but the detective.
"Orlando Bloom?" the detective laughed. "That's the weirdest fucking name I've ever heard." Turning to address Orlando's friend, he said, "what about you?"
"Um...Shia LeBeouf...sir," the boy stammered.
"I stand corrected," Buscemi sniggered. The detective bent over the bound man on the floor. Testing the bonds, Sean watched as the officer retrieved the wallet from the man's back pocket. "Denis Leary," the man read as he looked at the license. "Ah, now you see, nice normal name...even if he is a scum bag..."
"Yeah, well do I look like a fucking faggot fairy, like those two?" Denis spat out.
"No, but you do look pretty fucked though," Madsen said as he also regarded the man on the floor. "Fuck! We left the Boom Boom Room for this?" he exclaimed as he addressed his partner.
"The Boom Boom Room?" Sean asked incredulously.
"Hey, I've heard of that place," Shia said. "Not that...um...I ever go there cuz it would be...illegal...and stuff," the boy stuttered as he looked at Det. Madsen who had raised one eyebrow at him.
"The Boom Boom Room?" Orlando laughed in the corner. “Our hard earned tax dollars at work," he snickered.
"Hey, now, hold up," Buscemi said. "Did you know that on our fucking beat, this one right fucking here, crime rate has been reduced down by forty fucking percent? Yeah," he nodded as he continued. "And that's due to me and that asshole over there bringing in every low life scum, every motherfucker who decided that today would be a good day to fuck with the public. Yeah, that's right, the tax paying public. And you guys probably get what?" the detective shrugged, "two standard fifteen minute breaks in a fucking working day? And might I add, we," Buscemi emphasized as he indicated himself and his partner, "haven't seen a normal eight fucking hour day since we were whacking off in High School to Julie Newmar playing Catwoman. So I think my friend here is entitled to a ten fucking minute lap dance, which he paid for, and which, business and commerce being what they are, will go right back into the tax paying system. Don't you agree?"
"You know," Orlando snarked, suddenly coming away from the window, "maybe we should start a telethon for the poor overworked LAPD so they can get together enough money to give Bambi over at the Boom Boom Room a nice tip. My mistake officer," Orlando whispered, his hands in the air. "May I open a window please? The smell in here is atrocious."
“Hey I like that telethon idea," Det. Madsen said. "We could call it Tips for Tits."
"And it all comes back to tits," Orlando muttered.
"Hey Mike! Crack open a window. Wouldn't want him to faint or some shit like that. So," Buscemi said as he addressed Sean, "what the fuck happened here? And I want you to start from the beginning."
"Well officer," Sean began, "I just came home. I've been gone since Friday night. I'm a firefighter and some of my co-workers and I were fighting that huge fire over on the Crest."
"Oh yeah. I heard about that," the detective nodded.
"How can you not? It's been all over the bloody news channels?" Sean frowned.
"Ooooh, well, bloody hell," Buscemi mocked. "Who are you? John fucking Cleese? I'm just making bloody conversation."
"I heard it was some inconsiderate asshole with a cigarette...that started that fire," Det. Madsen said as he lit up. "Oh, hey! This okay or is this a smoke free environment," the man chuckled.
"Go ahead," Sean shrugged. "So anyway, I just came home and…well," he said as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to say that he came home to his lover standing over another human being with a fucking gun in his hands. "Orlando, my boyfriend," Sean indicated as he pointed out the young man and was pleased when he saw Orli smile, "he said he wanted to surprise me...and he did because I came home to find Shia about to call the police and Orlando watching over this bound man."
He didn't exactly have to say that Orli was holding the gun.
"I'd say he did a good job...at the surprising that is." Det. Buscemi turned to Orlando. "So you wanna take it from here Romeo?"
"Yes, I'd like to take it from here and go, thank you very bloody much," Orlando grimaced while looking away from the detective. He was still standing against the window, breathing in the fresh air.
Buscemi sighed. "From the beginning, please Mr. Bloom. And by the way, what does the fucking Fed-Ex driver have to do with any of this?"
"I needed a ride...because I didn't have my bike," Orlando stammered, "so I sort of, I..."
Shia jumped in quickly. "I said...I was going to where he needed to go...you know...after he told me where he...um..."
"Needed to go?" the detective supplied.
"Yeah," Shia nodded, "and I was like 'dude, I have to go that way,' so I gave him a...a..."
"Ride?" the detective again supplied.
Shia nodded in the affirmative.
"You allowed to do that?" Buscemi asked.
"Yeah, all the time...sure," Shia nodded.
Sean wasn't a detective, and he wondered briefly if these two were either, but even he knew when a story was being made up off the cuff.
He suspected Det. Buscemi did too.
He wasn't so sure about Det. Madsen, who was checking out Sean’s CD collection.
“Uh-huh, so okay, what? You didn’t have your 10-speed today, kid?” Det. Buscemi asked Orlando.
"My motorcycle, actually," the young man winced. "It was impounded this morning."
Suddenly Det. Madsen straightened up and looked over at Orlando with genuine interest. “Your motorcycle was impounded this morning?” the detective laughed. He walked over to where Orli stood, getting right up into his personal space. “Exactly how fast were you going?”
"Fast. I don't remember...exactly," Orlando said looking everywhere but at the man questioning him. He suddenly found the potted plant the officer had just spit in quite fascinating.
"If your bike was impounded, you must've been going pret-ty fast. I'm surprised you're not sitting in one of our holding cells right about now," Madsen remarked.
"Yeah that's right," Denis spoke up from the floor. "I wanna make a citizen's arrest. The streets aren't safe from punks like him. Hey, maybe we can share a cell, sweetcheeks," Denis taunted as he blew Orlando a kiss.
“Wot the bloody hell?!” Sean bellowed as he moved aggressively toward the bound man.
"Whoa! I'm tied up here!" Denis yelped and tried to shuffle backwards on the floor.
“Enough!” Buscemi yelled as he held an arm out to stop Sean. “Okay, so let’s forget Mr. Bloom’s little transgression here for a moment. So you got one of the Fed-Ex drivers, this Shia kid, to bring you here. And then what?”
"I...um," Orlando took in a deep breath, "went to the back door..."
"Back door," Det. Madsen laughed.
"Madsen," the other detective warned.
"Sorry, couldn't help it," he smiled.
"Oh great! Why don't you just get out all the faggot jokes here and now, huh?" Orlando yelled.
"Do you have a key to the house?" Buscemi asked, trying to subvert the coming confrontation.
"Well, um, no," Orlando said as he looked around.
"So you were going to what? Sit on the back porch and wait for lover boy to get here..."
"Could you stop doing that?" Orlando asked in exasperation.
"Do what?"
"You're making fun of us...Sean and myself. It's getting rather annoying."
Sean looked between his lover and the detective. This could not end well. Orlando seemed to be on as short a fuse as the smaller man.
"Look I'm not..."
"No you are! Some of us find love where we can, yeah? We all love differently. All I can say is that it's a lot better than never loving anyone and dying alone, in an apartment," Orlando continued to rant, "where no one even knows you exist until they smell something that becomes too unbearable, and the police have to knock the bloody fucking door down. And when the coroner and the clean up crew are washing your bodily fluids off the wall because your decomposing carcass imploded while it was sitting there rotting...and I think I've said too much."
"Oh. Someone needs a nap," Det. Madesn said.
"Shut it Madsen!" Buscemi barked.
Sean looked back and forth between the detective and Orlando. Something had passed between them but he couldn't tell what it was.
"Yeah, well, that was informative." Bucemi cleared his throat and continued. “So you got to the back door…”, and here he paused to toss his partner a warning glare. “Then what?”
"And I noticed the lock was missing from the door knob."
"Lock was missing, huh?" Buscemi questioned. "Hey Mike! Go check that out."
"Right," his partner said as he stepped to the back of the house.
"Pretty fucking professional breaking and entering for a common thief, wouldn't you say?" the remaining detective observed as he walked up to Mr. Leary. He then picked up the gun on the side table. "And is this the gun?" He looked the weapon over and whistled. "Glock 9mm. Very choice. Home break-ins must be pretty fucking profitable nowadays."
Madsen walked back into the room. "One of the cleanest jobs I've ever seen," he shrugged as he handed over the missing lock.
Both detectives looked at the man on the floor.
"So after you confronted the perp," Buscemi continued, now drawing his attention back to Orlando, "what happened next?”
"Well, I tried to surprise him. Actually I did, but he was able to overtake me and then I reached for his gun." Orlando sighed as he related the story, while also standing next to the window and taking in the largest gulps of air that he could. “And then he got the gun away from me, and there was this…’on…off…on’ sort of thing with the gun, and he managed to pin me to the floor.”
"What the fuck happened?" Buscemi asked incredulously. "I mean, this guy outweighs you and he had you pinned to the floor with a gun. How did you guys go from there to fucking here?"
"Well, it was as he was straddling me that he...um...he decided to take...um...liberties with me..."
It all happened so quick, Sean himself wasn't even sure how long it took to go from listening to Orlando relating his tale to suddenly seeing everything through a red haze.
A strange sound managed to pass through Sean's esphopgus and emerge
"Did he just growl?" Det. Madsen asked the room in general.
"You WHAT?!" Sean growled menacingly.
"Oh shit!" Denis spit out and once again tried to back up off the floor. "Hey man. You guys are cops! Protect and serve! Protect and serve, man!" Denis' panicky voice croaked out as he watched the brawny, muscular blonde start to bear down on him.
"Yeah, well, serve is the key word here," Det. Madsen droned. "I could serve your sorry ass to Tarzan over here so I suggest you shut the fuck up."
Maintain, maintain,” Buscemi advised sternly as he attempted to calm Sean down. Once he was certain the angry man had his temper under control, he turned his attention back to Orlando. "So he took...liberties with you?" the detective asked, one eyebrow raised. "What? We need a fucking rape crisis unit here too?"
"Maybe I should get you a doll and you could point out the parts where the bad man touched you," Madsen chuckled.
"Shut it you two!" Sean spit out.
"Sorry," Madsen apologized sheepishly under his breath.
“It was his intention to molest me,” Orlando explained with a disgusted roll of his eyes, “but he never got the chance. I managed to get out from under him because the gun had it's safety on, “the young man smiled and looked pointedly at the man on the floor. "Then I gave him a good head butt...on the, ya know, forehead, yeah? Then I kicked him, hit him in the jaw and then threw a chokehold on him. That was when he passed out."
"Hey! Hey! I never, ever passed out!" the man yelled.
"Then I tied him up with the lamp chords, while he was passed out!" Orlando emphasized, practically shouting the last two words in Denis’ direction.
Everyone in the room stopped to look at Orlando.
Where the fuck did he learn how to do all that!?!
"Where the fuck did you learn how to do all that?" Buscemi asked in amazement.
"Oh, telly I guess," Orlando said and Sean noticed his young lover sporting a rather fetching blush, which caused him to have to readjust himself in his trousers.
"Alright. Seems to be a clear cut case of breaking and entering while harboring a weapon, right?" Madsen asked his partner.
"I dunno. Something seems fishy," his partner pondered. "I can't really hit the nail on the head..."
Sean looked over at Orlando who had been fidgeting against the wall and was now laughing nervously. "That's just funny," he giggled, sitting down rather abruptly on the leather chair and rocking back and forth on his hands.
Buscemi walked towards Orlando, but the young man bounced up off the chair, backing away in an attempt to distance himself from the detective once again.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked
Just then, they all heard a voice coming from the hallway.
"Sean? Sean what the...ouch! What's going on?"
It was Eric. Sean groaned and rolled his eyes. Could the man have worse timing?!
He looked in the direction of his friend as the big man entered the living room. "I just tripped over your umbrella stand. You know this isn't Merry Ole England where you need an...hey what the fuck happened here?"
"I was in the middle of being robbed but Orli here stopped him," Sean said as he pointed to the man who was still tied up on the floor. He wondered just how long the detectives planned to keep the arsehole down there, but if you asked him, it was exactly where the piece of scum belonged.
"Really? You did that Orli?" Eric asked as he pointed to the captive man.
"Yeah," Orlando said as he looked at Eric, that same look back on his face that he had seen before. Orlando was now trying to distance himself from Eric, but found that when he did, it drove him closer to Detective Buscemi and then he would dart somewhere else again.
"Wow! That is freakin...Wow!" Eric said as he checked out the makeshift restraints. He then ran over and picked Orlando up in a big bear hug. Once Eric had set him down, Orlando hurriedly backed away, unable to suppress his shivers as he desperately tried to clean himself off.
"What's wrong with you? I don't have cooties or something," Eric laughed and then looked hurt. "I thought you liked me," he pouted.
"So? I bloody well like rotisserie chicken too but you don't see me cuddling up to it, yeah?" Orlando shouted.
"You're on drugs, aren't you?" Det. Madsen asked in all seriousness. "That's what it is."
"I am not bloody well on any fucking drugs. I've just had a rather trying day," the young man sighed.
"Yeah, well I think we should fucking wrap this up, read this asshole his rights and get my partner back to the Boom Boom Room," Det. Buscemi said.
"The Boom...Boom Boom Room?" Eric smirked. "I prefer the Kitten Club personally."
"Yeah well the Boom Boom Room has Nina and let me tell you," Madsen smiled. "She has the nicest set of," and with that, Madsen held his hands out about two feet in front of his mid belly.
"What? She has like double Z tits or really huge ovaries?" Eric smirked.
Madsen put his hands down.
"You haven't read me my rights you bureaucratic fucks!" the tied man exclaimed. "I could so have both your asses for this!"
"That's the second piece of ass you've wanted today that wasn't female. You sure you aren't a fairy fuck? Isn't that was you called me?" Orlando taunted.
"Fuck you!"
"You're right," Buscemi said as he bent down toward the bound man, "I have been remiss in my duties." And with that, he turned towards his partner. "Book him, Dano."
"My pleasure," the other detective grinned.
"Hey wait," Shia said, "I thought you said his name is Michael...um...Officer Michael Madsen? Who's Dano?"
Everyone in the room, including the bound man, stared back at the boy before laughing.
"What?" Shia frowned.
"Don't you know...oh come on...everyone knows 'Book em, Dano,'" Eric scoffed.
"You know, Hawaii Five-O? Cop show from the 60's?" Det. Madesen said.
"You're gonna make me do it, aren't you?" Eric laughed.
"Okay," and with that Eric started humming the theme song made famous by the popular television show.
Madsen and Leary joined in, quickly followed by an amused Orlando.
Sean noticed that whatever had been bothering Orlando before seemed to have lifted since the young man was happily joining in.
"Enough!" Det. Buscemi yelled out. "The next person who hums or sings or says any shit is gonna get shot! Alright, get this guy outta here Michael," Buscemi ground out.
The detective grabbed the man, undid the ties that bound him and handcuffed his captive. As he was getting near the door, Eric ran forward. "Here, let me get this for you."
And with that Eric 'accidentally' slammed the door into the handcuffed man's face. “Sorry, here,” he apologized with mock-solicitation as he once again forced the prisoner’s face to make painful contact with the hard wooden surface of the door in the process of ‘guiding’ him through it.
Finally, Det. Madsen left with Denis, chuckling the whole way down the path to the squad car.
"Here's my card," Buscemi said. “You can call me if you wanna know what happens to this guy."
"Thank you officer," Sean replied, taking the card from the man, noticing that the other was detective reading Mr. Leary his rights by the car.
Just then all the remaining men turned to look at the man standing in the front doorway.
It was a Fed-Ex deliveryman.
"Um...package for," the man said as he looked down at his clipboard, "Sean Bean." He waved the package in the air and smiled.
Ah, the anal beads were here!
"I'll take that. You can come in," Sean said and started to sign the clipboard. The man stepped into the entryway and saw Shia.
"Hey Dude!" the boy exclaimed and waved.
"Dude!" Shia smiled.
Then they boy looked over at Orlando, smiled and waved, "Dude!"
"Dude," Orlando replied back good-naturedly.
"Not to interrupt such stimulating conversation, but we have to go," the detective said. "Mr. Bean. Mr. Bloom," the man nodded in both their directions. "I'll be in touch." Sean watched as he made his way down the walk toward the car, his partner putting Denis in the back. He was about to close the door when Shia stopped him.
"Hold on," Shia said and looked back at Orlando. "Look, I gotta go Orli. You'll be okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, yeah?" Orlando smiled.
And just like that Shia and the other driver walked out the front door. Sean could hear the latest addition saying, "Dude, what was that all about back there?"
Sean turned to regard Orlando.
"You okay now, lad? Things looked a bit hairy for you there for awhile."
"What? Oh yeah. Everything's fine. That song...it...distracted me," the younger man grinned.
"From what?"
"What's in the package?" Orlando asked, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets.
Sean was well aware of the irony of what had just happened. Deciding to let Orlando 'distract' him from his own question, he regarded the package in his hand. He then looked up, a deliciously wicked smirk gracing his lips and a hot gleam in his emerald eyes.
Orlando leered back, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something naughty in that little box?"
Both men watched the other intently, their legs and hips starting to move and twitch.
"Hey, so," Eric said as he barged into the entryway from the living room and stopped. He looked back and forth between the two men.
Sean was quite content with the fact that Eric had never been slow on the uptake.
Especially when it had to do with sex.
"I'll just head out now," Eric needlessly announced, while waving and walking out the door
"I'd say we're alone now, Mr. Bean," Orlando murmured seductively.
"I would have to concur with you on that one Mr. Bloom," Sean responded.
Sean didn't want to think about what could have happened today.
Nor did he want to think about what was making Orlando so jumpy or what had spooked him so badly only a few scant moments ago.
He didn’t want to even think about how Orlando got here, nor did he want to know why he decided to show up in the first place. He knew a fish story when he heard one and Shia and his lover were clearly covering up something. But now was definitely not the time to try and figure it out.
He didn't want to think about any of it at the moment.
Because right now he wanted to take Orlando upstairs and open his package.
And the Fed-Ex box too.
There was plenty of time later to worry about everything else.
"I don't believe you were shown the upstairs properly before Mr. Bloom. Would you care to take the tour now?"
"You have to ask?" the young man winked.
And with that, Sean chased Orlando up the winding staircase, slapping his Levi's encased bottom along the way, that damnable theme song still stuck in his head.
TBC
Feedback is love as you well know.
Steve Buscemi and Michael Madsen both played Mr. Pink and Mr. Blonde respectively in Reservoir Dogs.
Here’s a pic of them in the movie. Steve is in the middle and Madsen is on the right:
And if you don’t know the theme song to Hawaii Five-O, here’s a youtube version of the opening:
Enjoy! And I hope the tune doesn’t stick in your head!
Chapter 8
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: R
Warnings: supernatural. minor character death, talk of death, language, VERY DARK HUMOR
Summary: What if there were people who could see how, what of and when a person will die? What if one of those people was Orlando? And how does Sean fit into all this?
Disclaimer: None of this is true. I don’t own the guys. I don’t own a working credit card machine. See icon.
Author's Note: Many, many, many thanks to my wonderful and talented beta simplyshanni *hugs you*
Chapter 1, 2, and 3 - wherein Orlando is at the diner
Chapter 4 - wherein Viggo diaglogues with Orlando
Chapter 5 - wherein Sean makes dinner for Orlando
Chapter 6 - wherein Orlando takes a little ride
Chapter 7 - wherein Orlando ‘commandeers’ a vehicle
Chapter 8
Sean had to wonder about what portal in which bloody alternate universe he stepped through to have come home to this.
To the sight of his lover holding a gun on a man who looked like he’d been beaten and hog-tied; displayed for all to see in the middle of his floor. To a nervous, stuttering Fed-Ex delivery driver talking into a phone, hopefully calling the police.
When he had first seen the delivery truck, he had thought it was the vibrating anal beads he had special-ordered.
This wasn't exactly what he had in mind.
Although, the sight of Orlando was quite welcome.
Well it had been, until the object of his desire stopped hugging and nuzzling him and started looking at him with something akin to horror.
This was the second time he had done that.
And it was getting a bit annoying.
Sean would get to the bottom of that if it was the last thing he did.
"Lad, are you alright?" he asked Orlando, looking at the man in concern. He had the same look on his face as he’d had the other night, over the kitchen sink.
"I...I...don't feel so good," Orlando stuttered before running from the room. From the sound of his retreating footsteps, Sean could tell that he was running through the hallway and into the downstairs’ bathroom. All three men, including the man lying on the floor, stopped everything they were doing when they heard Orlando retching into the toilet therein.
"Maybe it's the excitement...of the day, ya know," Shia shrugged as he put the phone down. "They're...um...sending someone over now. Cuz he had a gun and all...they said someone was in the vicinity," the young man babbled, as if Sean would be able to piece together those incoherent thoughts.
Sean looked at a very pale Orlando as he reemerged from the bathroom. He watched as the young man kept blinking his eyes open and closed as he looked back at him.
The older man quickly ran up to his lover and took him by the upper arms. “Orlando, what is it?” he asked as the young man continued to squirm about in an effort to gain his freedom. “Sorry,” Sean muttered as he dropped his hands, allowing his panicked lover to step back quickly. He watched in total confusion while Orlando continued to run his hands up and down his arms, as if trying to ward off a sudden chill.
"No, I'm sorry Sean. I...God! This is so hard!"
And then it clicked.
How could he be so insensitive!
Here was Orlando, coming over to surprise him and what had happened instead? He accidentally confronted someone who was ransacking his home and he ended up fighting with said intruder.
And then what does he do? He berates his lover as if he’s a child for fighting for what was Sean’s instead of running. And now that bloody conversation came back to haunt him because he didn’t have a bloody security system or a fucking dog!
Sean knew what this was, this thing Orlando was going through. He’d experienced it several times himself, as had his fellow firefighters. It usually happened soon after one of them had rushed into a dangerous situation. Once you came out of the incident and the adrenaline had worn off, you felt a kind of euphoria and then just as suddenly, a numbness took over. Slowly, total awareness of the peril you had just put yourself through started to sink in. Then the 'what ifs' and the 'could haves' start pressing in on you.
Just as Sean was about to say something to his lover, two men walked into the open doorway.
"LAPD," the first man, who was shorter than his partner, said as he waved his badge. "I'm Detective Steve Buscemi and this is my partner, Detective Michael Madsen." He stepped into the main room. "So what do we have here?" Det. Buscemi asked as he looked down at the man tied up on the floor. "Kinky," he smirked.
Det. Madsen sighed heavily. "They called us away for this?"
"He had a gun. You know how paranoid the Chief is. So, would someone mind telling me what happened? And who would…” Buscemi looked down at his notepad before raising his eyes inquiringly, “Sean Bean be?”
"That would be me officer," Sean responded.
"Okay, and you?" Buscemi asked as he turned to address Orlando.
If Sean thought the young man had been acting weird before, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now.
"Oh...oh God!" Orlando cried out as he held his hand to his mouth and ran from the room once again.
"Was it something I said?" the detective chuckled.
"Um...he hasn't been feeling too well," Sean muttered, covering up for Orlando's strange behavior.
"Probably bad sushi. Everyone's always eating sushi," Det. Madsen rambled. "The new fad. Who in their right mind would eat raw fish? Disgusting," the man snorted and then expectorated into a nearby potted plant.
Orlando walked back into the room and stood nervously to one side. "So I'll ask this again, sweetheart, who're you?" Buscemi reiterated.
"Orlando...Orlando Bloom," the young man stuttered, looking at anything but the detective.
"Orlando Bloom?" the detective laughed. "That's the weirdest fucking name I've ever heard." Turning to address Orlando's friend, he said, "what about you?"
"Um...Shia LeBeouf...sir," the boy stammered.
"I stand corrected," Buscemi sniggered. The detective bent over the bound man on the floor. Testing the bonds, Sean watched as the officer retrieved the wallet from the man's back pocket. "Denis Leary," the man read as he looked at the license. "Ah, now you see, nice normal name...even if he is a scum bag..."
"Yeah, well do I look like a fucking faggot fairy, like those two?" Denis spat out.
"No, but you do look pretty fucked though," Madsen said as he also regarded the man on the floor. "Fuck! We left the Boom Boom Room for this?" he exclaimed as he addressed his partner.
"The Boom Boom Room?" Sean asked incredulously.
"Hey, I've heard of that place," Shia said. "Not that...um...I ever go there cuz it would be...illegal...and stuff," the boy stuttered as he looked at Det. Madsen who had raised one eyebrow at him.
"The Boom Boom Room?" Orlando laughed in the corner. “Our hard earned tax dollars at work," he snickered.
"Hey, now, hold up," Buscemi said. "Did you know that on our fucking beat, this one right fucking here, crime rate has been reduced down by forty fucking percent? Yeah," he nodded as he continued. "And that's due to me and that asshole over there bringing in every low life scum, every motherfucker who decided that today would be a good day to fuck with the public. Yeah, that's right, the tax paying public. And you guys probably get what?" the detective shrugged, "two standard fifteen minute breaks in a fucking working day? And might I add, we," Buscemi emphasized as he indicated himself and his partner, "haven't seen a normal eight fucking hour day since we were whacking off in High School to Julie Newmar playing Catwoman. So I think my friend here is entitled to a ten fucking minute lap dance, which he paid for, and which, business and commerce being what they are, will go right back into the tax paying system. Don't you agree?"
"You know," Orlando snarked, suddenly coming away from the window, "maybe we should start a telethon for the poor overworked LAPD so they can get together enough money to give Bambi over at the Boom Boom Room a nice tip. My mistake officer," Orlando whispered, his hands in the air. "May I open a window please? The smell in here is atrocious."
“Hey I like that telethon idea," Det. Madsen said. "We could call it Tips for Tits."
"And it all comes back to tits," Orlando muttered.
"Hey Mike! Crack open a window. Wouldn't want him to faint or some shit like that. So," Buscemi said as he addressed Sean, "what the fuck happened here? And I want you to start from the beginning."
"Well officer," Sean began, "I just came home. I've been gone since Friday night. I'm a firefighter and some of my co-workers and I were fighting that huge fire over on the Crest."
"Oh yeah. I heard about that," the detective nodded.
"How can you not? It's been all over the bloody news channels?" Sean frowned.
"Ooooh, well, bloody hell," Buscemi mocked. "Who are you? John fucking Cleese? I'm just making bloody conversation."
"I heard it was some inconsiderate asshole with a cigarette...that started that fire," Det. Madsen said as he lit up. "Oh, hey! This okay or is this a smoke free environment," the man chuckled.
"Go ahead," Sean shrugged. "So anyway, I just came home and…well," he said as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to say that he came home to his lover standing over another human being with a fucking gun in his hands. "Orlando, my boyfriend," Sean indicated as he pointed out the young man and was pleased when he saw Orli smile, "he said he wanted to surprise me...and he did because I came home to find Shia about to call the police and Orlando watching over this bound man."
He didn't exactly have to say that Orli was holding the gun.
"I'd say he did a good job...at the surprising that is." Det. Buscemi turned to Orlando. "So you wanna take it from here Romeo?"
"Yes, I'd like to take it from here and go, thank you very bloody much," Orlando grimaced while looking away from the detective. He was still standing against the window, breathing in the fresh air.
Buscemi sighed. "From the beginning, please Mr. Bloom. And by the way, what does the fucking Fed-Ex driver have to do with any of this?"
"I needed a ride...because I didn't have my bike," Orlando stammered, "so I sort of, I..."
Shia jumped in quickly. "I said...I was going to where he needed to go...you know...after he told me where he...um..."
"Needed to go?" the detective supplied.
"Yeah," Shia nodded, "and I was like 'dude, I have to go that way,' so I gave him a...a..."
"Ride?" the detective again supplied.
Shia nodded in the affirmative.
"You allowed to do that?" Buscemi asked.
"Yeah, all the time...sure," Shia nodded.
Sean wasn't a detective, and he wondered briefly if these two were either, but even he knew when a story was being made up off the cuff.
He suspected Det. Buscemi did too.
He wasn't so sure about Det. Madsen, who was checking out Sean’s CD collection.
“Uh-huh, so okay, what? You didn’t have your 10-speed today, kid?” Det. Buscemi asked Orlando.
"My motorcycle, actually," the young man winced. "It was impounded this morning."
Suddenly Det. Madsen straightened up and looked over at Orlando with genuine interest. “Your motorcycle was impounded this morning?” the detective laughed. He walked over to where Orli stood, getting right up into his personal space. “Exactly how fast were you going?”
"Fast. I don't remember...exactly," Orlando said looking everywhere but at the man questioning him. He suddenly found the potted plant the officer had just spit in quite fascinating.
"If your bike was impounded, you must've been going pret-ty fast. I'm surprised you're not sitting in one of our holding cells right about now," Madsen remarked.
"Yeah that's right," Denis spoke up from the floor. "I wanna make a citizen's arrest. The streets aren't safe from punks like him. Hey, maybe we can share a cell, sweetcheeks," Denis taunted as he blew Orlando a kiss.
“Wot the bloody hell?!” Sean bellowed as he moved aggressively toward the bound man.
"Whoa! I'm tied up here!" Denis yelped and tried to shuffle backwards on the floor.
“Enough!” Buscemi yelled as he held an arm out to stop Sean. “Okay, so let’s forget Mr. Bloom’s little transgression here for a moment. So you got one of the Fed-Ex drivers, this Shia kid, to bring you here. And then what?”
"I...um," Orlando took in a deep breath, "went to the back door..."
"Back door," Det. Madsen laughed.
"Madsen," the other detective warned.
"Sorry, couldn't help it," he smiled.
"Oh great! Why don't you just get out all the faggot jokes here and now, huh?" Orlando yelled.
"Do you have a key to the house?" Buscemi asked, trying to subvert the coming confrontation.
"Well, um, no," Orlando said as he looked around.
"So you were going to what? Sit on the back porch and wait for lover boy to get here..."
"Could you stop doing that?" Orlando asked in exasperation.
"Do what?"
"You're making fun of us...Sean and myself. It's getting rather annoying."
Sean looked between his lover and the detective. This could not end well. Orlando seemed to be on as short a fuse as the smaller man.
"Look I'm not..."
"No you are! Some of us find love where we can, yeah? We all love differently. All I can say is that it's a lot better than never loving anyone and dying alone, in an apartment," Orlando continued to rant, "where no one even knows you exist until they smell something that becomes too unbearable, and the police have to knock the bloody fucking door down. And when the coroner and the clean up crew are washing your bodily fluids off the wall because your decomposing carcass imploded while it was sitting there rotting...and I think I've said too much."
"Oh. Someone needs a nap," Det. Madesn said.
"Shut it Madsen!" Buscemi barked.
Sean looked back and forth between the detective and Orlando. Something had passed between them but he couldn't tell what it was.
"Yeah, well, that was informative." Bucemi cleared his throat and continued. “So you got to the back door…”, and here he paused to toss his partner a warning glare. “Then what?”
"And I noticed the lock was missing from the door knob."
"Lock was missing, huh?" Buscemi questioned. "Hey Mike! Go check that out."
"Right," his partner said as he stepped to the back of the house.
"Pretty fucking professional breaking and entering for a common thief, wouldn't you say?" the remaining detective observed as he walked up to Mr. Leary. He then picked up the gun on the side table. "And is this the gun?" He looked the weapon over and whistled. "Glock 9mm. Very choice. Home break-ins must be pretty fucking profitable nowadays."
Madsen walked back into the room. "One of the cleanest jobs I've ever seen," he shrugged as he handed over the missing lock.
Both detectives looked at the man on the floor.
"So after you confronted the perp," Buscemi continued, now drawing his attention back to Orlando, "what happened next?”
"Well, I tried to surprise him. Actually I did, but he was able to overtake me and then I reached for his gun." Orlando sighed as he related the story, while also standing next to the window and taking in the largest gulps of air that he could. “And then he got the gun away from me, and there was this…’on…off…on’ sort of thing with the gun, and he managed to pin me to the floor.”
"What the fuck happened?" Buscemi asked incredulously. "I mean, this guy outweighs you and he had you pinned to the floor with a gun. How did you guys go from there to fucking here?"
"Well, it was as he was straddling me that he...um...he decided to take...um...liberties with me..."
It all happened so quick, Sean himself wasn't even sure how long it took to go from listening to Orlando relating his tale to suddenly seeing everything through a red haze.
A strange sound managed to pass through Sean's esphopgus and emerge
"Did he just growl?" Det. Madsen asked the room in general.
"You WHAT?!" Sean growled menacingly.
"Oh shit!" Denis spit out and once again tried to back up off the floor. "Hey man. You guys are cops! Protect and serve! Protect and serve, man!" Denis' panicky voice croaked out as he watched the brawny, muscular blonde start to bear down on him.
"Yeah, well, serve is the key word here," Det. Madsen droned. "I could serve your sorry ass to Tarzan over here so I suggest you shut the fuck up."
Maintain, maintain,” Buscemi advised sternly as he attempted to calm Sean down. Once he was certain the angry man had his temper under control, he turned his attention back to Orlando. "So he took...liberties with you?" the detective asked, one eyebrow raised. "What? We need a fucking rape crisis unit here too?"
"Maybe I should get you a doll and you could point out the parts where the bad man touched you," Madsen chuckled.
"Shut it you two!" Sean spit out.
"Sorry," Madsen apologized sheepishly under his breath.
“It was his intention to molest me,” Orlando explained with a disgusted roll of his eyes, “but he never got the chance. I managed to get out from under him because the gun had it's safety on, “the young man smiled and looked pointedly at the man on the floor. "Then I gave him a good head butt...on the, ya know, forehead, yeah? Then I kicked him, hit him in the jaw and then threw a chokehold on him. That was when he passed out."
"Hey! Hey! I never, ever passed out!" the man yelled.
"Then I tied him up with the lamp chords, while he was passed out!" Orlando emphasized, practically shouting the last two words in Denis’ direction.
Everyone in the room stopped to look at Orlando.
Where the fuck did he learn how to do all that!?!
"Where the fuck did you learn how to do all that?" Buscemi asked in amazement.
"Oh, telly I guess," Orlando said and Sean noticed his young lover sporting a rather fetching blush, which caused him to have to readjust himself in his trousers.
"Alright. Seems to be a clear cut case of breaking and entering while harboring a weapon, right?" Madsen asked his partner.
"I dunno. Something seems fishy," his partner pondered. "I can't really hit the nail on the head..."
Sean looked over at Orlando who had been fidgeting against the wall and was now laughing nervously. "That's just funny," he giggled, sitting down rather abruptly on the leather chair and rocking back and forth on his hands.
Buscemi walked towards Orlando, but the young man bounced up off the chair, backing away in an attempt to distance himself from the detective once again.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked
Just then, they all heard a voice coming from the hallway.
"Sean? Sean what the...ouch! What's going on?"
It was Eric. Sean groaned and rolled his eyes. Could the man have worse timing?!
He looked in the direction of his friend as the big man entered the living room. "I just tripped over your umbrella stand. You know this isn't Merry Ole England where you need an...hey what the fuck happened here?"
"I was in the middle of being robbed but Orli here stopped him," Sean said as he pointed to the man who was still tied up on the floor. He wondered just how long the detectives planned to keep the arsehole down there, but if you asked him, it was exactly where the piece of scum belonged.
"Really? You did that Orli?" Eric asked as he pointed to the captive man.
"Yeah," Orlando said as he looked at Eric, that same look back on his face that he had seen before. Orlando was now trying to distance himself from Eric, but found that when he did, it drove him closer to Detective Buscemi and then he would dart somewhere else again.
"Wow! That is freakin...Wow!" Eric said as he checked out the makeshift restraints. He then ran over and picked Orlando up in a big bear hug. Once Eric had set him down, Orlando hurriedly backed away, unable to suppress his shivers as he desperately tried to clean himself off.
"What's wrong with you? I don't have cooties or something," Eric laughed and then looked hurt. "I thought you liked me," he pouted.
"So? I bloody well like rotisserie chicken too but you don't see me cuddling up to it, yeah?" Orlando shouted.
"You're on drugs, aren't you?" Det. Madsen asked in all seriousness. "That's what it is."
"I am not bloody well on any fucking drugs. I've just had a rather trying day," the young man sighed.
"Yeah, well I think we should fucking wrap this up, read this asshole his rights and get my partner back to the Boom Boom Room," Det. Buscemi said.
"The Boom...Boom Boom Room?" Eric smirked. "I prefer the Kitten Club personally."
"Yeah well the Boom Boom Room has Nina and let me tell you," Madsen smiled. "She has the nicest set of," and with that, Madsen held his hands out about two feet in front of his mid belly.
"What? She has like double Z tits or really huge ovaries?" Eric smirked.
Madsen put his hands down.
"You haven't read me my rights you bureaucratic fucks!" the tied man exclaimed. "I could so have both your asses for this!"
"That's the second piece of ass you've wanted today that wasn't female. You sure you aren't a fairy fuck? Isn't that was you called me?" Orlando taunted.
"Fuck you!"
"You're right," Buscemi said as he bent down toward the bound man, "I have been remiss in my duties." And with that, he turned towards his partner. "Book him, Dano."
"My pleasure," the other detective grinned.
"Hey wait," Shia said, "I thought you said his name is Michael...um...Officer Michael Madsen? Who's Dano?"
Everyone in the room, including the bound man, stared back at the boy before laughing.
"What?" Shia frowned.
"Don't you know...oh come on...everyone knows 'Book em, Dano,'" Eric scoffed.
"You know, Hawaii Five-O? Cop show from the 60's?" Det. Madesen said.
"You're gonna make me do it, aren't you?" Eric laughed.
"Okay," and with that Eric started humming the theme song made famous by the popular television show.
Madsen and Leary joined in, quickly followed by an amused Orlando.
Sean noticed that whatever had been bothering Orlando before seemed to have lifted since the young man was happily joining in.
"Enough!" Det. Buscemi yelled out. "The next person who hums or sings or says any shit is gonna get shot! Alright, get this guy outta here Michael," Buscemi ground out.
The detective grabbed the man, undid the ties that bound him and handcuffed his captive. As he was getting near the door, Eric ran forward. "Here, let me get this for you."
And with that Eric 'accidentally' slammed the door into the handcuffed man's face. “Sorry, here,” he apologized with mock-solicitation as he once again forced the prisoner’s face to make painful contact with the hard wooden surface of the door in the process of ‘guiding’ him through it.
Finally, Det. Madsen left with Denis, chuckling the whole way down the path to the squad car.
"Here's my card," Buscemi said. “You can call me if you wanna know what happens to this guy."
"Thank you officer," Sean replied, taking the card from the man, noticing that the other was detective reading Mr. Leary his rights by the car.
Just then all the remaining men turned to look at the man standing in the front doorway.
It was a Fed-Ex deliveryman.
"Um...package for," the man said as he looked down at his clipboard, "Sean Bean." He waved the package in the air and smiled.
Ah, the anal beads were here!
"I'll take that. You can come in," Sean said and started to sign the clipboard. The man stepped into the entryway and saw Shia.
"Hey Dude!" the boy exclaimed and waved.
"Dude!" Shia smiled.
Then they boy looked over at Orlando, smiled and waved, "Dude!"
"Dude," Orlando replied back good-naturedly.
"Not to interrupt such stimulating conversation, but we have to go," the detective said. "Mr. Bean. Mr. Bloom," the man nodded in both their directions. "I'll be in touch." Sean watched as he made his way down the walk toward the car, his partner putting Denis in the back. He was about to close the door when Shia stopped him.
"Hold on," Shia said and looked back at Orlando. "Look, I gotta go Orli. You'll be okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, yeah?" Orlando smiled.
And just like that Shia and the other driver walked out the front door. Sean could hear the latest addition saying, "Dude, what was that all about back there?"
Sean turned to regard Orlando.
"You okay now, lad? Things looked a bit hairy for you there for awhile."
"What? Oh yeah. Everything's fine. That song...it...distracted me," the younger man grinned.
"From what?"
"What's in the package?" Orlando asked, shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets.
Sean was well aware of the irony of what had just happened. Deciding to let Orlando 'distract' him from his own question, he regarded the package in his hand. He then looked up, a deliciously wicked smirk gracing his lips and a hot gleam in his emerald eyes.
Orlando leered back, one eyebrow raised. "Is there something naughty in that little box?"
Both men watched the other intently, their legs and hips starting to move and twitch.
"Hey, so," Eric said as he barged into the entryway from the living room and stopped. He looked back and forth between the two men.
Sean was quite content with the fact that Eric had never been slow on the uptake.
Especially when it had to do with sex.
"I'll just head out now," Eric needlessly announced, while waving and walking out the door
"I'd say we're alone now, Mr. Bean," Orlando murmured seductively.
"I would have to concur with you on that one Mr. Bloom," Sean responded.
Sean didn't want to think about what could have happened today.
Nor did he want to think about what was making Orlando so jumpy or what had spooked him so badly only a few scant moments ago.
He didn’t want to even think about how Orlando got here, nor did he want to know why he decided to show up in the first place. He knew a fish story when he heard one and Shia and his lover were clearly covering up something. But now was definitely not the time to try and figure it out.
He didn't want to think about any of it at the moment.
Because right now he wanted to take Orlando upstairs and open his package.
And the Fed-Ex box too.
There was plenty of time later to worry about everything else.
"I don't believe you were shown the upstairs properly before Mr. Bloom. Would you care to take the tour now?"
"You have to ask?" the young man winked.
And with that, Sean chased Orlando up the winding staircase, slapping his Levi's encased bottom along the way, that damnable theme song still stuck in his head.
TBC
Feedback is love as you well know.
Steve Buscemi and Michael Madsen both played Mr. Pink and Mr. Blonde respectively in Reservoir Dogs.
Here’s a pic of them in the movie. Steve is in the middle and Madsen is on the right:
And if you don’t know the theme song to Hawaii Five-O, here’s a youtube version of the opening:
Click to viewEnjoy! And I hope the tune doesn’t stick in your head!