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fellowshippers2003-01-04 08:40 pm
collie.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-01-04 08:40 pm
TSAOM 2/?
Title: One-Hundred and Twenty-Nine Minutes.
Series: The Subtle Art of Manipulation. (2/?)
Author: Collie & Jai.
Email: collie_@msn.com & magicy2jai@cox.net
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Viggo/Orli & Dom/Elijah.
Summary: Orlando hates instant espresso and himself. Viggo hates beating around the bush and unexpected guests. Elijah starts his new game. Dom starts to put the pieces together.
Warnings: Whining.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if they were, this is what they'd be doing all day.
Archive: Only on TSAOM for now. When the series is finished, it will be open for archiving.
/All I know is all I am
Will never fully understand my breathing
I try, how I try to feel, hear, see and it confuses me
I am wrong
I am here
Now is mine
- K's Choice 'Now is Mine'/
Orlando was not having a good morning.
He'd had little to no sleep. His 'coffee' was instant espresso. He'd stubbed his toe on the doorjamb. He really wanted a fucking cigarette.
And he couldn't stop thinking about the things that Viggo had said to him the night before.
[You are mine. Mine to mold. Mine to touch. Mind to form and shape. Mine to spread colors and textures upon. Mine to make wail and growl and keen and beg. You are my sculpture. You are my canvas. You are my instrument. You are mine, boy.]
Orlando suppressed a shiver, dumping a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Then another. Then another. He stirred, barely registering the fact that there was anything there to stir. His mind was definitely elsewhere.
[No. If you want that, you ask to be touched. You know how the game is played, Orlando.]
Squeezing his eyes shut, he dropped his head into his hands, shaking slightly.
'When did this happen?' he thought, 'When did he start thinking about me like a possession? Has it been this way all along, only I was too blind to see it? Has the high finally ended, and now I'm seeing things for what they really are?'
He pulled his head back up, staring at the clock on the wall.
9:27am.
Viggo should be up any minute.
Orlando grimaced, chewing his lower lip, 'I don't want it to be like this. I love him. I… I do.'
He wet his lips, then raised the mug, taking a large gulp. Screwing up his face, he swallowed the vile liquid, hard, "Bloody... fuck! That's disgusting."
The espresso had gone cold.
Orlando nearly threw the mug across the room, but then he'd have to explain himself to Viggo, and explaining anything to Viggo was the last thing he wanted to do today. So, he calmly stood and walked to the kitchen counter, pulling open the microwave and setting the mug inside. He jabbed 2:00 into the console and sighed, leaning against the counter.
'Maybe I could just talk to him. Tell him what's wrong,' he thought. Then he shook his head, "No, that would never work," he muttered to himself, "The man has a head like granite."
Beeeeeeep!
He opened the microwave and withdrew the mug, cursing softly to himself because the porcelain was hot. He rushed back to the table, setting the instant coffee and himself back down. He raised the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip.
Horrid.
Frowning, he took another. Bitter and sludgy. He narrowed his eyes and took another. Revolting.
The coffee was pissing him off even more.
'That's it,' he thought, glaring death at his coffee, 'The next time he does that to me, I'll confront him about it. I won't be treated like property - not by him or anyone.'
Behind him came the sound of bare feet padding across carpet.
Viggo.
Viggo never wore shoes - well, whenever he could help it. He said being barefoot made him feel closer to the earth. Orlando used to think it was recondite, but now he just found it pretentious.
Of course, he was stupidly mad at the moment, but that was beside the point.
Viggo shuffled into the kitchen, clad in only pajama bottoms and disheveled hair. He paused and looked around the eating area, scrunching up his nose. He glanced down at Orlando, then bent down over the seated man's shoulder, sniffing. He smiled softly, placing a kiss on Orlando's cheek.
"Good morning, Elfling."
Orlando grunted. He despised that nickname. He earned it during filming - Viggo's own private jab at Orlando for not grasping the Sindarin language as well as he did, even as he was playing an elf.
And among other things.
He glared hard at the table, lest he spin around and take Viggo's legs out from under him, "You do realize your name is not Strider, and we are no longer in New Zealand, right?" he grumbled.
Viggo ignored the weak jibe, glancing at the contents of the coffee mug, sniffing, "Well, I thought it was impossible to burn a liquid, but it smells like you have succeeded where many have failed."
'Gonna start right in on me this morning, are you, old man?' Orlando thought, pressing his lips together in a tight line. He decided to play civil. Maybe if he played civil, Viggo would bugger off.
"It got cold," he said in a clipped tone, "I microwaved it. It's all stuck to the bottom. Stupid shit..."
Viggo shrugged slightly, moving into the kitchen proper. He opened the cupboard and pulled down another mug, along with the teakettle. He filled it with water and set it on the stovetop, turning the fire on beneath it. Then he grabbed a canister from the counter and opened it, bringing it to his nose and inhaling, his eyes fluttering shut, a small smile on his lips.
Orlando rolled his eyes, picking up his spoon and jabbing it at the wood grain on the table. Of course, it was real wood - not fake. Of course, Viggo would never have fake wood in *his* house. Orlando sneered and jabbed harder.
Viggo watched for a moment, slightly amused, "A bad morning can only mean a bad night, Orlando. Is something bothering you?"
"Oh no… nothing at all…" Orlando said, dropping the spoon.
Viggo quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "So your sour mood is due to over-zapped instant coffee and the term of endearment I'm having a hard time shaking off?"
Orlando slumped in his chair, enfolding the warm coffee mug in his hands, "A term of endearment that makes absolutely no sense anymore, and yes - coffee has the ability to ruin my life."
Viggo opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the instantly irritating whistle from the teakettle. He turned and took it off the fire, shutting off the gas. Glancing back at Orlando, he grabbed another mug from the cupboard and set it next to his.
"It's my term of endearment, Orlando, not yours. It makes sense to *me*, and that's all that matters."
Orlando said nothing. Viggo pulled two tea strainers from a drawer and filled them with the loose leaf, then dropped them into the mugs and covered them with boiling water.
"Would a cup of tea make your life worth living again?" he asked, gesturing towards the extra cup.
Orlando muttered something and shrugged one shoulder. Viggo took that as a sign in the affirmative and brought both cups over to the table, handing one to Orlando. Viggo sat in the chair opposite, looking thoughtfully at the younger man, who was staring into this new mug as if it held all the answers to life and the universe.
Viggo picked up Orlando's abandoned spoon and stirred his tea a few times before venturing to speak, "Would you like to go out and do anything today, or would you prefer it if the earth just opened and swallowed you whole?"
When he received no answer, he ventured the question that he'd really been wanting to ask, "Or me, perhaps?"
Orlando didn't respond. He continued to stare at his tea. Viggo was tempted to put a mirror in front of his face, to insure that he was still breathing. Finally, as if kicked in the shin by an invisible foot, he jerked back to reality.
"Huh? What was that supposed to mean?" he asked, eyes darting from Viggo's face to the bedroom door and back.
Viggo narrowed his eyes slightly, not missing that glance. He brought the cup to his lips, sipping his tea, before setting the mug back down and responding, his tone flat, "Which part?"
Orlando shifted, his anger fading slightly as discomfort settled in. Viggo was doing it again. Observing him. Studying him. Like a painting on the wall. Orlando licked his suddenly dry lips, looking back up, eyes settling on the clock once again.
"Any of it," he said, distracted by the fact that it was only 9:53am.
It felt like it had been hours.
Viggo blinked, exhaling loudly. He drained the rest of his cooling tea, then stood and grabbed all three of the mugs from the table, then walked into the kitchen and deposited them in the sink. He turned back around, and Orlando could see the irritation brimming the surface. He knew that was bad, as Viggo wasn't one to let emotions show so plainly on his face.
"Orlando, I'm going to take a shower. Once you've screwed your head back on straight, maybe we can talk about what unscrewed it in the first place, alright?" Viggo said, his voice long-suffering, like one would use for a child asked one too many times why they kept pissing their bed.
The anger came raging back.
Orlando glowered at Viggo, pushing his chair back with a squeak as he stood, "Whatever you say, Viggo... I said I was fine, but if you don't want to believe me, then… whatever."
'Brilliant retort, Orli,' he thought.
Oh shut up, brain.
Orlando huffed and turned on his heel, stalking off into the living room to watch some mindless television.
"Morning, Orli!"
*
Viggo had turned around and was gripping the countertop to keep from stomping over to Orlando and shaking him, screaming, 'What the fuck is the matter with you, you little shit?!', when he heard the voice.
"Morning, Orli!"
Oh, Jesus, it couldn't be -
Elijah.
Elijah at 9:57 in the morning. Elijah, when Viggo felt like pounding something into dust.
Viggo took a deep breath and steadied himself, glancing up just in time to see a beaming and tousled Elijah brushing past him, opening up *his* cupboard and removing one of *his* mugs, and turning to *his* teakettle.
"Elijah? What are you doing in my house?" Viggo asked, only then seeing Dominic lurking around the corner, a small smile on his face, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his corduroy pants.
"Oh, lovely. Both of you."
Elijah ignored his question, but Dominic chimed in, as Dominic often did, "You invited us to stay over? Don't you remember?" a sickeningly-sweet smile on his face.
Before Viggo had time to form a really mean glare, Elijah's cheerful voice pulled him back.
"Can I have a cup?" he inquired, gesturing to the cooling teakettle, his big blue eyes really pissing Viggo off.
Viggo scowled and grabbed the mug from Elijah's hand, all but throwing it back into the cupboard, "I'm sure you have cups at your own house, which is where you two should be. Now."
Elijah frowned, holding up his hands and taking a step back, "Soooorryy, Mr. Obviously-Not-A-Morning-Guy," he stuck out his tongue and turned around, pausing only to tickle Dom on the side and receive a kiss on the head from his lover.
Dominic chanced a wary glance at Viggo, who was wedged in the corner of his kitchen, where the countertops met. He reminded Dominic of a cornered animal, sneer and all.
"Bad night or something there, mate?" he chanced.
Viggo reached up and slammed the cupboard door shut, the sound giving Dominic a start. This was strange. Viggo wasn't typically a violent man. There must be some real trouble in paradise. Maybe staying the night hadn't been such a brilliant idea. He'd have to ream Elijah for that one later. But for now, Viggo.
"Apparently Orlando has taken it upon himself to play the role of the woman in this relationship. He has the, 'If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you' shtick down pat," Viggo complained, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
Dominic tilted his head, "And you're suddenly objectionable to him playing that role?" he teased.
Viggo paused his drumming, throwing a strained smirk at Dominic, "Only when he's PMSing."
Dominic made a face, "Oo, that is so wrong... no wonder he's not speaking to you," he chided, "Why not make him feel better and buy him a box of chocolates and some Midol, hm?"
*
Elijah stepped lightly into the living room, watching as Orlando - who was sprawled unceremoniously on the couch - spitefully punched the numbers on the remote. He finally gave up and stopped on an old re-run of Jerry Springer.
"Better be careful with that thing. It's your lifeline to the TV, man," Elijah quipped, dropping down in the overstuffed chair next to the couch.
Orlando glanced up at him, seeming startled. He raked over Elijah with a practiced gaze, then turned back to the television, all intent on ignoring his friend. Elijah pulled his legs up under him, settling comfortably in the chair.
They watched in silence for a few moments before Elijah gestured to the television, "Dude, why are you watching this shit? You've got a perfect little talk show drama named Viggo in the kitchen, all ready and raring to go."
Orlando snorted, shaking his head, "Oh, hooray for me, yeah? I'll have you know, it's much more fun to watch others make idiots of themselves instead of me. I see that quite enough, thank you very much."
Elijah nibbled his lower lip, staring at Orlando. Something was going on. Orlando usually never kept secrets - unless they were to be revealed later, and everyone knew it. Now here he was, lying with his entire being. Elijah wanted to get to the bottom of this.
"Are you guys okay, man? You and Vig? You seem sorta pissed off," Elijah asked, tentatively.
Orlando pursed his lips, not looking at Elijah, "Don't you worry about it. Don't want to spoil the permanent afterglow that is your and Dom's life," he muttered, his tone bitter.
Elijah flinched slightly, frowning. Okay, something was definitely going on, and he would bet that something was Viggo.
He ignored the jibe and continued to prod, his tone slightly pleading, "Oh, come on, man - you *know* you can talk to me. About *anything*, Orli."
Orlando sighed and pushed himself up into a seated position on the couch, meeting Elijah's gaze straight on, "Nothing to say, Lij. Nothing at all."
Elijah held his gaze. He could see the pain that Orlando was trying to cover with anger and false bravado. It made him sad to see his normally carefree friend like this. However, it also pissed him off to no extent that Orlando didn't feel as if he could confide in him. Didn't the term "brother" mean anything to him?
Elijah shook his head and shrugged, "Yeah, whatever, Orli."
*
Viggo grumbled incoherently at Dominic, who had the gall to just stand there and watch. The older man threw him a glare, then ran his hands through his hair, not even noticing when the strands fell right back into his face.
"If you don't have anything helpful to contribute, why don't you tell me why you and the boy wonder took refuge in my house last night?" Viggo demanded, gesturing emphatically, for no reason other than that it released some tension.
Dominic spread his hands, shrugging helplessly, "It was late, and we were tired! Is that a crime?"
Viggo scoffed in disbelief, "I'm considering trying to make it one, now," he spat, turning to pace the length of his kitchen, very obviously *not* glancing towards the door that led off to the living room.
Dominic narrowed his eyes, flipping a two-fingered salute at Viggo's retreating back, "We'll leave then, if you're going to be that poor of a host," he called out.
Viggo said nothing, just paused by the chair at the table, then dropped into it, head in hands.
Dominic felt a twinge of sympathy for his friend, but he knew that now was not the time to try and get Viggo to talk about his feelings. It was, however, the perfect time to leave.
"Oy, Lij!" he shouted, walking towards the sound of the television blaring, "Come on, we're not wanted here."
*
"Oy, Lij! Come on, we're not wanted here."
Orlando's head jerked towards Dominic's voice, and before Elijah could stand, Orlando was off of the couch, grabbing his coat from the arm of the chair Elijah was sitting in.
"No, you don't have to go. I'm going to go out for some... some fresh air," Orlando said, glancing about himself as if he was unsure where to go. After a moment, he glanced up at Elijah, offered up a shadow of a smile, and turned, making his way out the back door and off the porch.
Elijah watched him go with a sigh. He hoped he and Dominic never ended up like that. He didn't think they would… in fact, he was almost sure of it. Then again, he never figured out what was wrong with Orlando, so you never know. And what was Viggo's problem? So they crashed at his house without telling him. Big deal. He was a little pre-occupied at the moment -
"Lij?"
Elijah was startled out of his reverie by Dominic's hand on top of his head. He tilted his head back to see Dominic leaning over the back of the chair, smiling down at him.
"Let's get out of here, mate. Viggo's all surly."
Elijah smirked, pushing himself out of the chair, "Actually, I needed to talk to him real quick. Orli stomped out of here… do you think maybe you could talk some sense into him? I wasn't getting anywhere."
Dominic shrugged, nodding, "I can try. Maybe he just needs to take his mind off things. I guess I can take him for coffee, or something."
Elijah nodded, "Yeah, that would be good. Distract him."
Dominic grabbed Elijah by the waist, pulling him close, kissing him on the forehead, "So, what do you need to speak with Viggo, the Grumpiest Grump in the Land, about?"
Elijah giggled, wrapping his arms around Dominic, "Nothing much. There was just something I've been meaning to ask him. I figure, I might as well do it now. There's no telling when, or if, he'll ever let us back in his house, right?"
Dominic nodded, "Too true, my young one. Too true," he released Elijah, making a sweeping gesture towards the kitchen, "On with you, then. I'll see if I can catch up with the princess, and find out what the pea under his mattress is all about."
Elijah smiled, endearingly, kissing Dominic lightly, "Thanks, Sblomie. You're the best."
Dominic grinned, nodding, "Yeah, I know. You kept screaming it last night."
Elijah leered, smacking Dominic on the ass, "I was just hamming it up for the camera."
Dominic gasped, jumping behind Elijah, looking around, conspiratorially, "There's cameras? They got us on film? Do you think my ass was too white?"
Elijah groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing Dominic towards the back door, "Go. Good-bye."
Dominic laughed and dropped another kiss on Elijah's forehead, "I'll see you later. Give me a ring when you're done. Oh, and tell Viggo that cranky wanker just isn't his color."
*
Elijah entered the kitchen and was met with the strangest sight he'd seen in a long time.
Viggo was sitting at his kitchen table, jabbing at the surface with a spoon, his lips curled up in what could only be described as a baring of teeth. Elijah was confused - very confused.
"Uh, Viggo?" he ventured, stepping fully into the kitchen.
Viggo jumped, all but throwing the spoon halfway across the table, the sneer disappearing from his face to be replaced immediately with Viggo's mask of calm control.
"Elijah. Why are you still here?" he asked, clasping slightly shaking hands together on the table. Elijah heard a strange tapping sound, and glanced down to see that Viggo's leg was shaking so hard, the loose tile in the floor was trembling in it's mortar.
"Um," Elijah began, tearing his eyes away from Viggo's leg, "I, actually, just wanted to ask you a question, but if it's a bad time… I can go…" he started to back out of the kitchen, but stopped when Viggo raised a hand.
"No, no - just… it's okay. I'm just frustrated. Sit down," he sighed, gesturing to Orlando's recently vacated chair.
Elijah nodded, taking the seat, "Are you two doing okay? Did you guys have a fight, or something?"
Viggo shook his head slightly, "No, not really. He was upset about something this morning, and he wouldn't tell me what it was. He just keep pushing, and for some reason, this morning I just let it get to me. I mean *really* get to me," Viggo frowned hard, looking at Elijah, "For a brief moment, I think I might have hated him."
Elijah's eyes widened and he sat back in the chair, "Wow, yeah?"
Viggo shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know. But whatever it was, it wasn't good, and I'm not going to let it happen again."
Elijah nodded absently, "Do you think, maybe… that he hated you, too?"
Viggo exhaled loudly, "I don't know, Elijah. I don't really want to talk about this right now. You said you had a question-"
Elijah cut him off, "There's a thin line between love and hate, Viggo."
Viggo rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but Elijah continued.
"No, man, really. There's a reason it's a classic," he grinned, "But, look at it this way - Orli must really love you, for as pissed off as he was. And look at yourself, Vig-" he gestured to the tense man, "You're all sorts of edgy and freakin' out. Nothing ever gets you like this but him. What's that say about him?"
"That's he's a fucking bane, earthbound to make my life a living hell?" Viggo retorted, his scowl turning petulant.
Elijah rolled his eyes, "You know what I'm saying, man. You can only hate someone you love. And the more you hate someone, the more you have the potential to love them, because those two emotions are so very strong, and one can very easily turn into the other."
Viggo shook his head and stood, staring down at Elijah, "When did you become the expert, anyway? I don't ever see you and Dominic yelling at each other."
Elijah's smile dropped a fraction, "Yeah. Yeah… I know."
Viggo contemplated, then walked over to the sink, turning the water on low, and began to rinse out the coffee mugs, his tone soft, "Ah. So there is trouble in paradise - trouble being that there *is* no trouble - am I right?"
Elijah leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, "It's like he doesn't give a shit about anything that I do. Like, I could go fuck a cow with his name spray painted on it's side, on Marilyn Monroe's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash, you know?"
Viggo furrowed his brow and glanced back at Elijah, "You've thought of that?"
Elijah threw a glare at Viggo, "A hypothetical cow, Viggo."
Viggo just raised an eyebrow in response. Elijah shook his head and continued, "I just want to know if he even cares at all, you know? Like, he says he does… he says he loves me, and he acts like it… but he never gets jealous or angry about anything I do. I just can't wind him up. It's so annoying."
Elijah sighed, making an exasperated noise, "I guess I just want to be significant enough to make him notice."
Viggo shut off the water and turned to face Elijah, "I think you're missing something important here, Elijah."
"Yeah? What?" Elijah asked, picking up the spoon and rubbing it's smooth surface with his thumb.
"That Dominic is not you. Dominic is not me. Dominic is not Orlando. He has his very own way of dealing with things. You just need to take the time to learn the signs. Watch him. Really watch him. You'll learn him sooner than you think."
Elijah glowered, "Signs. Fuck that," he muttered, staring at the spoon so hard, Viggo thought he might bend it with the power of his mind.
Viggo shrugged, moving away from the counter and towards his bedroom, "That's all I can offer you, Elijah."
Elijah blinked, quirked his mouth into a smile, and jumped up, "Vig! Hold up. I have an idea," he shouted, bounding after Viggo.
*
"Hey, Orli! Wait up, man!" Dominic called out, jogging down the street after the meandering brunette.
Orlando paused in his step, looking behind him. He stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes, "Not in the mood, Dominic. Don't feel like talking, mate."
Dominic caught up, bending over with his hands on his knees, breathing raggedly, "Gimmie a second here, man - I'm not as young as I used to be," he stood back up, placing two fingers on his pulse, and grabbing Orlando's watch arm with his other, watching the sweeping second hand go by.
Orlando tolerated it for a few moments before jerking his hand away, "What are you on about, you nit?"
Dominic glanced at him, confused, "What's it mean when your pulse goes backwards?"
Orlando glared at him, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head, "I guess it means you're piss outta luck, 'eh?"
"Guess so," Dominic said, snickering, "So you'd better come and get one last cuppa with me before I keel over dead, 'eh?" he gave Orlando a meaningful look.
Orlando sobered a bit, nodding, "Yeah, alright, Dom."
*
Viggo shook his head, talking to Elijah through the shut bathroom door, "No, Elijah - I'm not going to take your picture."
"Oh come on! It'll totally wind him up!" Elijah pleaded, pressing his mouth to the bathroom door, "Pllleeeaassee?" he whined, the sound reverberating through the wood.
He jumped back as the door swung open partway, revealing a glaring towel-clad Viggo. Elijah offered up an apologetic smile, watching as Viggo took hold of the doorjamb in what could only be described as a 'Better the doorjamb than my neck' grip.
"Elijah. I am not going to take naked pictures of you, then leave them lying around for Dominic to see. Do you see how that will also make *me* the bad guy? I'd rather not have two people hating me after today, if you don't mind."
Elijah nodded, "Yeah, yeah, okay. I know, I know… it's just…" he paused, staring off at nothing as another thought entered his head, "Oh! How about this? What if I convince Dominic that it's okay, and that he can come along and watch, and then see if that gets him jealous?"
Viggo groaned, banging his head against the door, "If I say yes, will you go home and leave me to brood in peace?"
Elijah bounced, nodding, "Uh huh."
"Alright. If Dominic agrees, I'll do it."
*
"Man, I need a cigarette," Orlando said, shuffling his feet along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.
Dominic glanced over at him, "I thought you quit."
"I did," Orlando said, grinning slightly, "But then I remembered - the world hates a quitter."
Dominic smirked, shrugging, "I won't squeal."
"Thanks, mate," Orlando said, looking around. He spotted a gas station nearby, "Ah, an oasis in the desert. Come on."
Dominic nodded, following Orlando to the gas station. They entered the Mini-Mart and Dominic headed straight for the candy section, while Orlando made a beeline for the register.
"Pack of Camels, please," he said to the guy behind the register.
The employee turned and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the wall display and tossed them on the counter without so much as looking up, "Anything else today?" he asked, fingers paused over the cash register.
"Yeah, these," Orlando heard Dominic say, over his shoulder, tossing two packs of Red Vines and a Sour Apple Blow Pop on the counter.
Orlando rolled his eyes, nodding to the guy, "Yeah, those too. And a pack of matches, please."
The guy nodded, throwing a pack of Winston matches on the counter, then rang up the sale, "That'll be $7.83, please."
Orlando winced, pulling out his wallet, "Man, the price for cigarettes has gone way up since I quit, and that was only a year ago," he muttered, handing the guy a $10.
The guy said nothing, just pulled out his change and plastered on a fake smile, "Have a nice day."
Orlando smiled back, "And you have yourself a great day, too," he said, grabbing his cigarettes off of the counter and walked out of the Mini-Mart, Dominic's footsteps behind him.
He paused outside, packing the cigarettes against the palm of his hand, watching as Dominic unwrapped the sucker and popped it in his mouth.
Orlando just grinned, unwrapping the cellophane from the cigarettes and pulling off the foil. He counted two cigarettes in from the back left, pulled it out and flipped it, sliding it back into the pack. Then he pulled out the front middle cigarette and stuck it between his lips.
"What's with that," Dominic asked around his sucked, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes.
Orlando glanced up, pulling the pack of matches out of his pocket and lighting one, bringing the flame to the end of his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, a look of pure bliss crossing his fine features, "Yeah. Now that's the stuff."
He looked at Dominic, addressing his question, "What's up with what?"
"The cigarette-flipping thing. I never got that. Lij does it, too."
Orlando shrugged, leading the way back towards the sidewalk, "It's a lucky. Dunno what it's for. Superstition. You make a wish on it, and then you smoke it last. You don't let anyone else smoke it or have a hit from it, and it's supposed to grant you your wish," Orlando rolled his eyes, "Cheesy, yeah, but it's habit."
Dominic nodded, "Yeah, but a nice thought, nonetheless."
The walked in companionable silence for a bit before Dominic pointed towards a small coffee shop with his sucker, "Want a cup? I hear they make it from beans and not instant mix powder," he said, a smile in his voice.
Orlando punched him in the arm, "Funny guy, you are. Yeah, let's get a cup. I could use one."
*
Elijah sat on Viggo's bed, studying his fingernails. The sounds of Viggo in the shower made him feel slightly naughty for being there. Hell, the reason he *was* there made him feel slightly naughty.
If Dominic wasn't going to give him what he wanted, then he'd just make him. Simple as that.
The plan was perfect, in Elijah's mind - set up a seemingly innocent scenario. Elijah had asked Viggo to take some tasteful nude art photos of him, and Viggo had agreed, but only if Dominic agreed. Dominic would agree, Elijah was sure, and probably want to be there. He would claim it would only be to see Elijah prance around naked, but Elijah knew it was because he wanted to keep an eye on Viggo.
Things would be innocent for awhile, and then Elijah would start subtly flirting with Viggo, just to catch Dominic's reaction. If Dominic did nothing, then Elijah knew it wasn't real. If he didn't care about Elijah being naked and flirting with one of his best friends right in front of him, Elijah would know that Dominic didn't really care.
However, if Dominic *did* get upset, then Elijah's plan would be a success.
Sure, he wasn't planning on telling Viggo about certain parts, but he needed real reactions. Yeah, it might get Viggo into some trouble, but some things were worth it, to see if love was true.
Right?
The sounds of the shower ended, and Elijah launched himself off of the bed and out of the bedroom. He paused in the landing and scribbled a note to Viggo:
Viggo,
I'll call you after I talk to Dominic. Thanks.
Elijah.
Smiling proudly, he dropped the note next to Viggo's car keys and practically skipped out the front door, mind swimming with his scheme.
*
"I don't know, man… I feel like he thinks of me as a possession, you know? Like, the way he talks sometimes. It's like he doesn't have any regard for my feelings, you know? Like," Orlando sat back and puffed out his chest, his voice lowering and becoming scratchy in his Viggo impression, "'Oh, Orlando belongs to me, so I don't have to be fluffy towards him, because he'll never escape my nefarious clutches! I'm an artist, so the rules are different for me. He is my project, and I'll make him into my image! Mwahaha!'" Orlando rolled his eyes, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
Dominic smiled lightly. He'd lost count of how many cigarettes had been smoked, but he knew Orlando was down to almost half a pack, and it had only been about forty-five minutes.
"I get what you're saying, Orli. And I'll tell you, the best thing you can do is confront him on it. Tell him how you feel. Maybe he doesn't even realize what he's doing."
Orlando sighed, nodding, "Yeah, I know, but he's just so stubborn. It's like, he has these specific reasons for every single thing he does, and if you try to alter anything, he just ignores you, because *he* has *his* reasons and he's not going to change them for anyone, you know?"
"Yeah… but that's Viggo for you, right?"
"Yeah, that's Viggo - but not the Viggo I want to be in love with," Orlando lamented, jabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. Dominic nodded, tearing open one of the packs of Red Vines. He said nothing, because the look on Orlando's face indicated he wasn't done speaking - just pausing to gather his thoughts.
"Take this nickname, for example," Orlando began.
"Oh, the Elfling thing?" Dominic interjected, sliding a piece of licorice between his lips, eyes questioning.
"Yeah. It bugs the hell out of me, you know? Yeah, it was cute on the set, but we're done filming, and it's been a year, and he *still* calls me that. It's like, that's all I am to him. Some little fuck-up he can poke fun at, and I won't say anything back, you know? It's… sometimes it feels demeaning. Like I'm supposedly less of a person than he is," Orlando grabbed his half-empty pack of cigarettes and pulled out another, lighting it and tapping off the ash, fiercely.
Dominic said nothing, but the words registered. He was starting to understand what Viggo might be pulling, and it didn't sit well with him. It was one thing to be possessive of your partner because they were flighty or maybe had a tendency to fool around, and Dominic could understand Viggo acting that way at the beginning of his relationship with Orlando. The boy was still rather rambunctious, and had a mind to just go off and do whatever he pleased, without regards to anyone else. Viggo'd always had a hard time with that.
Yet, here they were, over a year later, and Orlando had shown nothing but dedication and faithfulness towards Viggo, yes the older man still treated him like pet that needed to be reprimanded whenever it stepped out of line, and constantly put in it's place, as a reminder of who was really in charge.
No, it didn't sit well at all.
He decided to hold his tongue on the subject until a later time. Perhaps he'd have a talk with Viggo. Usually the best person to step in and solve a problem like this, was a person on the outside - apart from it all. Someone who could consider things objectively.
Dominic sat back in his chair, glancing around the coffee shop. Not too crowded, but just crowded enough to make him a tad nervous. They'd had no rabid fans attack yet, but you never knew when one or ten would spring out of the woodwork.
Orlando smoked in silence. Dominic kept one eye on him, and one on the crowd. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a girl appeared at their table. Dominic cursed inwardly. How could she have slipped by?! He was slipping in his old age. He smirked to himself, then at Orlando. They both glanced up at her, and she smiled nervously.
"Um... you're Orlando Bloom right? And Dominic Monaghan?"
Orlando plastered on a big fake smile, nodding, "Yeah, that's me."
"And that's me - only, not him, me. Dominic me," Dominic chimed in, smirking at Orlando.
The girl giggled a bit, shifting her weight, "Um, I was wondering... if it's not too much trouble… could I get your autographs?"
Orlando threw a glance at Dominic, who shrugged, smiling at the girl, "Sure, sweetheart," Dominic said, sliding a napkin in front of himself, pulling a pen from his inner coat pocket.
Orlando looked back to the girl, who was smiling a huge smile. He wasn't sure why, but she made him feel better.
"What's your name, then?" he asked.
"Oh, sorry. Um, it's Sam," she giggled, toying with the ends of her long brown hair.
Orlando blinked, then laughed softly, "Hey, that's my sister's name."
Dominic chuckled, deciding against the obvious slew of incest jokes he could make, lest the girl had delicate sensibilities. Instead, he just clicked the pen and scribbled on the napkin:
Sam,
Have you hugged your tree today?
Love and kisses,
Dominic Monaghan
He slid the napkin over to Orlando, who read it and snickered. He added his own:
Yeah, they're more loyal than men.
Take care,
Orlando Bloom
Orlando picked up the napkin and handed it to Sam, who clutched it as if it were the holy grail. She scanned the words quickly, giggling as she did.
"Wow, thanks! I'll be sure to hug a tree before I go home, okay?" she said, grinning at them.
Dominic nodded, solemnly, "The flora appreciates your love and sentiment, Sam"
Sam giggled again and waved, "Thanks again!" then was off, disappearing back into the crowd from whence she came.
Orlando shook his head at Dominic, who was grinning like an idiot.
"You're too much, man. That girl's gonna be riding her high for days, now."
Dominic shrugged, mock-smoothing an invisible tie, "What can I say? I'm a charming bastard."
Orlando snorted, "Yeah. Right."
Dominic grinned, leaning in, "Well, at least now you know that if Viggo continues to be a right bastard, Sam will always be here for you."
Orlando laughed, throwing the pen at Dominic, "Oh piss off, Sblomie."
Dominic laughed, then glanced at his watch.
11:36am.
As always, feedback puts food on my baby's plate.
Series: The Subtle Art of Manipulation. (2/?)
Author: Collie & Jai.
Email: collie_@msn.com & magicy2jai@cox.net
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Viggo/Orli & Dom/Elijah.
Summary: Orlando hates instant espresso and himself. Viggo hates beating around the bush and unexpected guests. Elijah starts his new game. Dom starts to put the pieces together.
Warnings: Whining.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if they were, this is what they'd be doing all day.
Archive: Only on TSAOM for now. When the series is finished, it will be open for archiving.
/All I know is all I am
Will never fully understand my breathing
I try, how I try to feel, hear, see and it confuses me
I am wrong
I am here
Now is mine
- K's Choice 'Now is Mine'/
Orlando was not having a good morning.
He'd had little to no sleep. His 'coffee' was instant espresso. He'd stubbed his toe on the doorjamb. He really wanted a fucking cigarette.
And he couldn't stop thinking about the things that Viggo had said to him the night before.
[You are mine. Mine to mold. Mine to touch. Mind to form and shape. Mine to spread colors and textures upon. Mine to make wail and growl and keen and beg. You are my sculpture. You are my canvas. You are my instrument. You are mine, boy.]
Orlando suppressed a shiver, dumping a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Then another. Then another. He stirred, barely registering the fact that there was anything there to stir. His mind was definitely elsewhere.
[No. If you want that, you ask to be touched. You know how the game is played, Orlando.]
Squeezing his eyes shut, he dropped his head into his hands, shaking slightly.
'When did this happen?' he thought, 'When did he start thinking about me like a possession? Has it been this way all along, only I was too blind to see it? Has the high finally ended, and now I'm seeing things for what they really are?'
He pulled his head back up, staring at the clock on the wall.
9:27am.
Viggo should be up any minute.
Orlando grimaced, chewing his lower lip, 'I don't want it to be like this. I love him. I… I do.'
He wet his lips, then raised the mug, taking a large gulp. Screwing up his face, he swallowed the vile liquid, hard, "Bloody... fuck! That's disgusting."
The espresso had gone cold.
Orlando nearly threw the mug across the room, but then he'd have to explain himself to Viggo, and explaining anything to Viggo was the last thing he wanted to do today. So, he calmly stood and walked to the kitchen counter, pulling open the microwave and setting the mug inside. He jabbed 2:00 into the console and sighed, leaning against the counter.
'Maybe I could just talk to him. Tell him what's wrong,' he thought. Then he shook his head, "No, that would never work," he muttered to himself, "The man has a head like granite."
Beeeeeeep!
He opened the microwave and withdrew the mug, cursing softly to himself because the porcelain was hot. He rushed back to the table, setting the instant coffee and himself back down. He raised the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip.
Horrid.
Frowning, he took another. Bitter and sludgy. He narrowed his eyes and took another. Revolting.
The coffee was pissing him off even more.
'That's it,' he thought, glaring death at his coffee, 'The next time he does that to me, I'll confront him about it. I won't be treated like property - not by him or anyone.'
Behind him came the sound of bare feet padding across carpet.
Viggo.
Viggo never wore shoes - well, whenever he could help it. He said being barefoot made him feel closer to the earth. Orlando used to think it was recondite, but now he just found it pretentious.
Of course, he was stupidly mad at the moment, but that was beside the point.
Viggo shuffled into the kitchen, clad in only pajama bottoms and disheveled hair. He paused and looked around the eating area, scrunching up his nose. He glanced down at Orlando, then bent down over the seated man's shoulder, sniffing. He smiled softly, placing a kiss on Orlando's cheek.
"Good morning, Elfling."
Orlando grunted. He despised that nickname. He earned it during filming - Viggo's own private jab at Orlando for not grasping the Sindarin language as well as he did, even as he was playing an elf.
And among other things.
He glared hard at the table, lest he spin around and take Viggo's legs out from under him, "You do realize your name is not Strider, and we are no longer in New Zealand, right?" he grumbled.
Viggo ignored the weak jibe, glancing at the contents of the coffee mug, sniffing, "Well, I thought it was impossible to burn a liquid, but it smells like you have succeeded where many have failed."
'Gonna start right in on me this morning, are you, old man?' Orlando thought, pressing his lips together in a tight line. He decided to play civil. Maybe if he played civil, Viggo would bugger off.
"It got cold," he said in a clipped tone, "I microwaved it. It's all stuck to the bottom. Stupid shit..."
Viggo shrugged slightly, moving into the kitchen proper. He opened the cupboard and pulled down another mug, along with the teakettle. He filled it with water and set it on the stovetop, turning the fire on beneath it. Then he grabbed a canister from the counter and opened it, bringing it to his nose and inhaling, his eyes fluttering shut, a small smile on his lips.
Orlando rolled his eyes, picking up his spoon and jabbing it at the wood grain on the table. Of course, it was real wood - not fake. Of course, Viggo would never have fake wood in *his* house. Orlando sneered and jabbed harder.
Viggo watched for a moment, slightly amused, "A bad morning can only mean a bad night, Orlando. Is something bothering you?"
"Oh no… nothing at all…" Orlando said, dropping the spoon.
Viggo quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "So your sour mood is due to over-zapped instant coffee and the term of endearment I'm having a hard time shaking off?"
Orlando slumped in his chair, enfolding the warm coffee mug in his hands, "A term of endearment that makes absolutely no sense anymore, and yes - coffee has the ability to ruin my life."
Viggo opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the instantly irritating whistle from the teakettle. He turned and took it off the fire, shutting off the gas. Glancing back at Orlando, he grabbed another mug from the cupboard and set it next to his.
"It's my term of endearment, Orlando, not yours. It makes sense to *me*, and that's all that matters."
Orlando said nothing. Viggo pulled two tea strainers from a drawer and filled them with the loose leaf, then dropped them into the mugs and covered them with boiling water.
"Would a cup of tea make your life worth living again?" he asked, gesturing towards the extra cup.
Orlando muttered something and shrugged one shoulder. Viggo took that as a sign in the affirmative and brought both cups over to the table, handing one to Orlando. Viggo sat in the chair opposite, looking thoughtfully at the younger man, who was staring into this new mug as if it held all the answers to life and the universe.
Viggo picked up Orlando's abandoned spoon and stirred his tea a few times before venturing to speak, "Would you like to go out and do anything today, or would you prefer it if the earth just opened and swallowed you whole?"
When he received no answer, he ventured the question that he'd really been wanting to ask, "Or me, perhaps?"
Orlando didn't respond. He continued to stare at his tea. Viggo was tempted to put a mirror in front of his face, to insure that he was still breathing. Finally, as if kicked in the shin by an invisible foot, he jerked back to reality.
"Huh? What was that supposed to mean?" he asked, eyes darting from Viggo's face to the bedroom door and back.
Viggo narrowed his eyes slightly, not missing that glance. He brought the cup to his lips, sipping his tea, before setting the mug back down and responding, his tone flat, "Which part?"
Orlando shifted, his anger fading slightly as discomfort settled in. Viggo was doing it again. Observing him. Studying him. Like a painting on the wall. Orlando licked his suddenly dry lips, looking back up, eyes settling on the clock once again.
"Any of it," he said, distracted by the fact that it was only 9:53am.
It felt like it had been hours.
Viggo blinked, exhaling loudly. He drained the rest of his cooling tea, then stood and grabbed all three of the mugs from the table, then walked into the kitchen and deposited them in the sink. He turned back around, and Orlando could see the irritation brimming the surface. He knew that was bad, as Viggo wasn't one to let emotions show so plainly on his face.
"Orlando, I'm going to take a shower. Once you've screwed your head back on straight, maybe we can talk about what unscrewed it in the first place, alright?" Viggo said, his voice long-suffering, like one would use for a child asked one too many times why they kept pissing their bed.
The anger came raging back.
Orlando glowered at Viggo, pushing his chair back with a squeak as he stood, "Whatever you say, Viggo... I said I was fine, but if you don't want to believe me, then… whatever."
'Brilliant retort, Orli,' he thought.
Oh shut up, brain.
Orlando huffed and turned on his heel, stalking off into the living room to watch some mindless television.
"Morning, Orli!"
*
Viggo had turned around and was gripping the countertop to keep from stomping over to Orlando and shaking him, screaming, 'What the fuck is the matter with you, you little shit?!', when he heard the voice.
"Morning, Orli!"
Oh, Jesus, it couldn't be -
Elijah.
Elijah at 9:57 in the morning. Elijah, when Viggo felt like pounding something into dust.
Viggo took a deep breath and steadied himself, glancing up just in time to see a beaming and tousled Elijah brushing past him, opening up *his* cupboard and removing one of *his* mugs, and turning to *his* teakettle.
"Elijah? What are you doing in my house?" Viggo asked, only then seeing Dominic lurking around the corner, a small smile on his face, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his corduroy pants.
"Oh, lovely. Both of you."
Elijah ignored his question, but Dominic chimed in, as Dominic often did, "You invited us to stay over? Don't you remember?" a sickeningly-sweet smile on his face.
Before Viggo had time to form a really mean glare, Elijah's cheerful voice pulled him back.
"Can I have a cup?" he inquired, gesturing to the cooling teakettle, his big blue eyes really pissing Viggo off.
Viggo scowled and grabbed the mug from Elijah's hand, all but throwing it back into the cupboard, "I'm sure you have cups at your own house, which is where you two should be. Now."
Elijah frowned, holding up his hands and taking a step back, "Soooorryy, Mr. Obviously-Not-A-Morning-Guy," he stuck out his tongue and turned around, pausing only to tickle Dom on the side and receive a kiss on the head from his lover.
Dominic chanced a wary glance at Viggo, who was wedged in the corner of his kitchen, where the countertops met. He reminded Dominic of a cornered animal, sneer and all.
"Bad night or something there, mate?" he chanced.
Viggo reached up and slammed the cupboard door shut, the sound giving Dominic a start. This was strange. Viggo wasn't typically a violent man. There must be some real trouble in paradise. Maybe staying the night hadn't been such a brilliant idea. He'd have to ream Elijah for that one later. But for now, Viggo.
"Apparently Orlando has taken it upon himself to play the role of the woman in this relationship. He has the, 'If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you' shtick down pat," Viggo complained, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
Dominic tilted his head, "And you're suddenly objectionable to him playing that role?" he teased.
Viggo paused his drumming, throwing a strained smirk at Dominic, "Only when he's PMSing."
Dominic made a face, "Oo, that is so wrong... no wonder he's not speaking to you," he chided, "Why not make him feel better and buy him a box of chocolates and some Midol, hm?"
*
Elijah stepped lightly into the living room, watching as Orlando - who was sprawled unceremoniously on the couch - spitefully punched the numbers on the remote. He finally gave up and stopped on an old re-run of Jerry Springer.
"Better be careful with that thing. It's your lifeline to the TV, man," Elijah quipped, dropping down in the overstuffed chair next to the couch.
Orlando glanced up at him, seeming startled. He raked over Elijah with a practiced gaze, then turned back to the television, all intent on ignoring his friend. Elijah pulled his legs up under him, settling comfortably in the chair.
They watched in silence for a few moments before Elijah gestured to the television, "Dude, why are you watching this shit? You've got a perfect little talk show drama named Viggo in the kitchen, all ready and raring to go."
Orlando snorted, shaking his head, "Oh, hooray for me, yeah? I'll have you know, it's much more fun to watch others make idiots of themselves instead of me. I see that quite enough, thank you very much."
Elijah nibbled his lower lip, staring at Orlando. Something was going on. Orlando usually never kept secrets - unless they were to be revealed later, and everyone knew it. Now here he was, lying with his entire being. Elijah wanted to get to the bottom of this.
"Are you guys okay, man? You and Vig? You seem sorta pissed off," Elijah asked, tentatively.
Orlando pursed his lips, not looking at Elijah, "Don't you worry about it. Don't want to spoil the permanent afterglow that is your and Dom's life," he muttered, his tone bitter.
Elijah flinched slightly, frowning. Okay, something was definitely going on, and he would bet that something was Viggo.
He ignored the jibe and continued to prod, his tone slightly pleading, "Oh, come on, man - you *know* you can talk to me. About *anything*, Orli."
Orlando sighed and pushed himself up into a seated position on the couch, meeting Elijah's gaze straight on, "Nothing to say, Lij. Nothing at all."
Elijah held his gaze. He could see the pain that Orlando was trying to cover with anger and false bravado. It made him sad to see his normally carefree friend like this. However, it also pissed him off to no extent that Orlando didn't feel as if he could confide in him. Didn't the term "brother" mean anything to him?
Elijah shook his head and shrugged, "Yeah, whatever, Orli."
*
Viggo grumbled incoherently at Dominic, who had the gall to just stand there and watch. The older man threw him a glare, then ran his hands through his hair, not even noticing when the strands fell right back into his face.
"If you don't have anything helpful to contribute, why don't you tell me why you and the boy wonder took refuge in my house last night?" Viggo demanded, gesturing emphatically, for no reason other than that it released some tension.
Dominic spread his hands, shrugging helplessly, "It was late, and we were tired! Is that a crime?"
Viggo scoffed in disbelief, "I'm considering trying to make it one, now," he spat, turning to pace the length of his kitchen, very obviously *not* glancing towards the door that led off to the living room.
Dominic narrowed his eyes, flipping a two-fingered salute at Viggo's retreating back, "We'll leave then, if you're going to be that poor of a host," he called out.
Viggo said nothing, just paused by the chair at the table, then dropped into it, head in hands.
Dominic felt a twinge of sympathy for his friend, but he knew that now was not the time to try and get Viggo to talk about his feelings. It was, however, the perfect time to leave.
"Oy, Lij!" he shouted, walking towards the sound of the television blaring, "Come on, we're not wanted here."
*
"Oy, Lij! Come on, we're not wanted here."
Orlando's head jerked towards Dominic's voice, and before Elijah could stand, Orlando was off of the couch, grabbing his coat from the arm of the chair Elijah was sitting in.
"No, you don't have to go. I'm going to go out for some... some fresh air," Orlando said, glancing about himself as if he was unsure where to go. After a moment, he glanced up at Elijah, offered up a shadow of a smile, and turned, making his way out the back door and off the porch.
Elijah watched him go with a sigh. He hoped he and Dominic never ended up like that. He didn't think they would… in fact, he was almost sure of it. Then again, he never figured out what was wrong with Orlando, so you never know. And what was Viggo's problem? So they crashed at his house without telling him. Big deal. He was a little pre-occupied at the moment -
"Lij?"
Elijah was startled out of his reverie by Dominic's hand on top of his head. He tilted his head back to see Dominic leaning over the back of the chair, smiling down at him.
"Let's get out of here, mate. Viggo's all surly."
Elijah smirked, pushing himself out of the chair, "Actually, I needed to talk to him real quick. Orli stomped out of here… do you think maybe you could talk some sense into him? I wasn't getting anywhere."
Dominic shrugged, nodding, "I can try. Maybe he just needs to take his mind off things. I guess I can take him for coffee, or something."
Elijah nodded, "Yeah, that would be good. Distract him."
Dominic grabbed Elijah by the waist, pulling him close, kissing him on the forehead, "So, what do you need to speak with Viggo, the Grumpiest Grump in the Land, about?"
Elijah giggled, wrapping his arms around Dominic, "Nothing much. There was just something I've been meaning to ask him. I figure, I might as well do it now. There's no telling when, or if, he'll ever let us back in his house, right?"
Dominic nodded, "Too true, my young one. Too true," he released Elijah, making a sweeping gesture towards the kitchen, "On with you, then. I'll see if I can catch up with the princess, and find out what the pea under his mattress is all about."
Elijah smiled, endearingly, kissing Dominic lightly, "Thanks, Sblomie. You're the best."
Dominic grinned, nodding, "Yeah, I know. You kept screaming it last night."
Elijah leered, smacking Dominic on the ass, "I was just hamming it up for the camera."
Dominic gasped, jumping behind Elijah, looking around, conspiratorially, "There's cameras? They got us on film? Do you think my ass was too white?"
Elijah groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing Dominic towards the back door, "Go. Good-bye."
Dominic laughed and dropped another kiss on Elijah's forehead, "I'll see you later. Give me a ring when you're done. Oh, and tell Viggo that cranky wanker just isn't his color."
*
Elijah entered the kitchen and was met with the strangest sight he'd seen in a long time.
Viggo was sitting at his kitchen table, jabbing at the surface with a spoon, his lips curled up in what could only be described as a baring of teeth. Elijah was confused - very confused.
"Uh, Viggo?" he ventured, stepping fully into the kitchen.
Viggo jumped, all but throwing the spoon halfway across the table, the sneer disappearing from his face to be replaced immediately with Viggo's mask of calm control.
"Elijah. Why are you still here?" he asked, clasping slightly shaking hands together on the table. Elijah heard a strange tapping sound, and glanced down to see that Viggo's leg was shaking so hard, the loose tile in the floor was trembling in it's mortar.
"Um," Elijah began, tearing his eyes away from Viggo's leg, "I, actually, just wanted to ask you a question, but if it's a bad time… I can go…" he started to back out of the kitchen, but stopped when Viggo raised a hand.
"No, no - just… it's okay. I'm just frustrated. Sit down," he sighed, gesturing to Orlando's recently vacated chair.
Elijah nodded, taking the seat, "Are you two doing okay? Did you guys have a fight, or something?"
Viggo shook his head slightly, "No, not really. He was upset about something this morning, and he wouldn't tell me what it was. He just keep pushing, and for some reason, this morning I just let it get to me. I mean *really* get to me," Viggo frowned hard, looking at Elijah, "For a brief moment, I think I might have hated him."
Elijah's eyes widened and he sat back in the chair, "Wow, yeah?"
Viggo shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know. But whatever it was, it wasn't good, and I'm not going to let it happen again."
Elijah nodded absently, "Do you think, maybe… that he hated you, too?"
Viggo exhaled loudly, "I don't know, Elijah. I don't really want to talk about this right now. You said you had a question-"
Elijah cut him off, "There's a thin line between love and hate, Viggo."
Viggo rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but Elijah continued.
"No, man, really. There's a reason it's a classic," he grinned, "But, look at it this way - Orli must really love you, for as pissed off as he was. And look at yourself, Vig-" he gestured to the tense man, "You're all sorts of edgy and freakin' out. Nothing ever gets you like this but him. What's that say about him?"
"That's he's a fucking bane, earthbound to make my life a living hell?" Viggo retorted, his scowl turning petulant.
Elijah rolled his eyes, "You know what I'm saying, man. You can only hate someone you love. And the more you hate someone, the more you have the potential to love them, because those two emotions are so very strong, and one can very easily turn into the other."
Viggo shook his head and stood, staring down at Elijah, "When did you become the expert, anyway? I don't ever see you and Dominic yelling at each other."
Elijah's smile dropped a fraction, "Yeah. Yeah… I know."
Viggo contemplated, then walked over to the sink, turning the water on low, and began to rinse out the coffee mugs, his tone soft, "Ah. So there is trouble in paradise - trouble being that there *is* no trouble - am I right?"
Elijah leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, "It's like he doesn't give a shit about anything that I do. Like, I could go fuck a cow with his name spray painted on it's side, on Marilyn Monroe's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash, you know?"
Viggo furrowed his brow and glanced back at Elijah, "You've thought of that?"
Elijah threw a glare at Viggo, "A hypothetical cow, Viggo."
Viggo just raised an eyebrow in response. Elijah shook his head and continued, "I just want to know if he even cares at all, you know? Like, he says he does… he says he loves me, and he acts like it… but he never gets jealous or angry about anything I do. I just can't wind him up. It's so annoying."
Elijah sighed, making an exasperated noise, "I guess I just want to be significant enough to make him notice."
Viggo shut off the water and turned to face Elijah, "I think you're missing something important here, Elijah."
"Yeah? What?" Elijah asked, picking up the spoon and rubbing it's smooth surface with his thumb.
"That Dominic is not you. Dominic is not me. Dominic is not Orlando. He has his very own way of dealing with things. You just need to take the time to learn the signs. Watch him. Really watch him. You'll learn him sooner than you think."
Elijah glowered, "Signs. Fuck that," he muttered, staring at the spoon so hard, Viggo thought he might bend it with the power of his mind.
Viggo shrugged, moving away from the counter and towards his bedroom, "That's all I can offer you, Elijah."
Elijah blinked, quirked his mouth into a smile, and jumped up, "Vig! Hold up. I have an idea," he shouted, bounding after Viggo.
*
"Hey, Orli! Wait up, man!" Dominic called out, jogging down the street after the meandering brunette.
Orlando paused in his step, looking behind him. He stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes, "Not in the mood, Dominic. Don't feel like talking, mate."
Dominic caught up, bending over with his hands on his knees, breathing raggedly, "Gimmie a second here, man - I'm not as young as I used to be," he stood back up, placing two fingers on his pulse, and grabbing Orlando's watch arm with his other, watching the sweeping second hand go by.
Orlando tolerated it for a few moments before jerking his hand away, "What are you on about, you nit?"
Dominic glanced at him, confused, "What's it mean when your pulse goes backwards?"
Orlando glared at him, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head, "I guess it means you're piss outta luck, 'eh?"
"Guess so," Dominic said, snickering, "So you'd better come and get one last cuppa with me before I keel over dead, 'eh?" he gave Orlando a meaningful look.
Orlando sobered a bit, nodding, "Yeah, alright, Dom."
*
Viggo shook his head, talking to Elijah through the shut bathroom door, "No, Elijah - I'm not going to take your picture."
"Oh come on! It'll totally wind him up!" Elijah pleaded, pressing his mouth to the bathroom door, "Pllleeeaassee?" he whined, the sound reverberating through the wood.
He jumped back as the door swung open partway, revealing a glaring towel-clad Viggo. Elijah offered up an apologetic smile, watching as Viggo took hold of the doorjamb in what could only be described as a 'Better the doorjamb than my neck' grip.
"Elijah. I am not going to take naked pictures of you, then leave them lying around for Dominic to see. Do you see how that will also make *me* the bad guy? I'd rather not have two people hating me after today, if you don't mind."
Elijah nodded, "Yeah, yeah, okay. I know, I know… it's just…" he paused, staring off at nothing as another thought entered his head, "Oh! How about this? What if I convince Dominic that it's okay, and that he can come along and watch, and then see if that gets him jealous?"
Viggo groaned, banging his head against the door, "If I say yes, will you go home and leave me to brood in peace?"
Elijah bounced, nodding, "Uh huh."
"Alright. If Dominic agrees, I'll do it."
*
"Man, I need a cigarette," Orlando said, shuffling his feet along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.
Dominic glanced over at him, "I thought you quit."
"I did," Orlando said, grinning slightly, "But then I remembered - the world hates a quitter."
Dominic smirked, shrugging, "I won't squeal."
"Thanks, mate," Orlando said, looking around. He spotted a gas station nearby, "Ah, an oasis in the desert. Come on."
Dominic nodded, following Orlando to the gas station. They entered the Mini-Mart and Dominic headed straight for the candy section, while Orlando made a beeline for the register.
"Pack of Camels, please," he said to the guy behind the register.
The employee turned and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the wall display and tossed them on the counter without so much as looking up, "Anything else today?" he asked, fingers paused over the cash register.
"Yeah, these," Orlando heard Dominic say, over his shoulder, tossing two packs of Red Vines and a Sour Apple Blow Pop on the counter.
Orlando rolled his eyes, nodding to the guy, "Yeah, those too. And a pack of matches, please."
The guy nodded, throwing a pack of Winston matches on the counter, then rang up the sale, "That'll be $7.83, please."
Orlando winced, pulling out his wallet, "Man, the price for cigarettes has gone way up since I quit, and that was only a year ago," he muttered, handing the guy a $10.
The guy said nothing, just pulled out his change and plastered on a fake smile, "Have a nice day."
Orlando smiled back, "And you have yourself a great day, too," he said, grabbing his cigarettes off of the counter and walked out of the Mini-Mart, Dominic's footsteps behind him.
He paused outside, packing the cigarettes against the palm of his hand, watching as Dominic unwrapped the sucker and popped it in his mouth.
Orlando just grinned, unwrapping the cellophane from the cigarettes and pulling off the foil. He counted two cigarettes in from the back left, pulled it out and flipped it, sliding it back into the pack. Then he pulled out the front middle cigarette and stuck it between his lips.
"What's with that," Dominic asked around his sucked, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes.
Orlando glanced up, pulling the pack of matches out of his pocket and lighting one, bringing the flame to the end of his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, a look of pure bliss crossing his fine features, "Yeah. Now that's the stuff."
He looked at Dominic, addressing his question, "What's up with what?"
"The cigarette-flipping thing. I never got that. Lij does it, too."
Orlando shrugged, leading the way back towards the sidewalk, "It's a lucky. Dunno what it's for. Superstition. You make a wish on it, and then you smoke it last. You don't let anyone else smoke it or have a hit from it, and it's supposed to grant you your wish," Orlando rolled his eyes, "Cheesy, yeah, but it's habit."
Dominic nodded, "Yeah, but a nice thought, nonetheless."
The walked in companionable silence for a bit before Dominic pointed towards a small coffee shop with his sucker, "Want a cup? I hear they make it from beans and not instant mix powder," he said, a smile in his voice.
Orlando punched him in the arm, "Funny guy, you are. Yeah, let's get a cup. I could use one."
*
Elijah sat on Viggo's bed, studying his fingernails. The sounds of Viggo in the shower made him feel slightly naughty for being there. Hell, the reason he *was* there made him feel slightly naughty.
If Dominic wasn't going to give him what he wanted, then he'd just make him. Simple as that.
The plan was perfect, in Elijah's mind - set up a seemingly innocent scenario. Elijah had asked Viggo to take some tasteful nude art photos of him, and Viggo had agreed, but only if Dominic agreed. Dominic would agree, Elijah was sure, and probably want to be there. He would claim it would only be to see Elijah prance around naked, but Elijah knew it was because he wanted to keep an eye on Viggo.
Things would be innocent for awhile, and then Elijah would start subtly flirting with Viggo, just to catch Dominic's reaction. If Dominic did nothing, then Elijah knew it wasn't real. If he didn't care about Elijah being naked and flirting with one of his best friends right in front of him, Elijah would know that Dominic didn't really care.
However, if Dominic *did* get upset, then Elijah's plan would be a success.
Sure, he wasn't planning on telling Viggo about certain parts, but he needed real reactions. Yeah, it might get Viggo into some trouble, but some things were worth it, to see if love was true.
Right?
The sounds of the shower ended, and Elijah launched himself off of the bed and out of the bedroom. He paused in the landing and scribbled a note to Viggo:
I'll call you after I talk to Dominic. Thanks.
Elijah.
Smiling proudly, he dropped the note next to Viggo's car keys and practically skipped out the front door, mind swimming with his scheme.
*
"I don't know, man… I feel like he thinks of me as a possession, you know? Like, the way he talks sometimes. It's like he doesn't have any regard for my feelings, you know? Like," Orlando sat back and puffed out his chest, his voice lowering and becoming scratchy in his Viggo impression, "'Oh, Orlando belongs to me, so I don't have to be fluffy towards him, because he'll never escape my nefarious clutches! I'm an artist, so the rules are different for me. He is my project, and I'll make him into my image! Mwahaha!'" Orlando rolled his eyes, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.
Dominic smiled lightly. He'd lost count of how many cigarettes had been smoked, but he knew Orlando was down to almost half a pack, and it had only been about forty-five minutes.
"I get what you're saying, Orli. And I'll tell you, the best thing you can do is confront him on it. Tell him how you feel. Maybe he doesn't even realize what he's doing."
Orlando sighed, nodding, "Yeah, I know, but he's just so stubborn. It's like, he has these specific reasons for every single thing he does, and if you try to alter anything, he just ignores you, because *he* has *his* reasons and he's not going to change them for anyone, you know?"
"Yeah… but that's Viggo for you, right?"
"Yeah, that's Viggo - but not the Viggo I want to be in love with," Orlando lamented, jabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. Dominic nodded, tearing open one of the packs of Red Vines. He said nothing, because the look on Orlando's face indicated he wasn't done speaking - just pausing to gather his thoughts.
"Take this nickname, for example," Orlando began.
"Oh, the Elfling thing?" Dominic interjected, sliding a piece of licorice between his lips, eyes questioning.
"Yeah. It bugs the hell out of me, you know? Yeah, it was cute on the set, but we're done filming, and it's been a year, and he *still* calls me that. It's like, that's all I am to him. Some little fuck-up he can poke fun at, and I won't say anything back, you know? It's… sometimes it feels demeaning. Like I'm supposedly less of a person than he is," Orlando grabbed his half-empty pack of cigarettes and pulled out another, lighting it and tapping off the ash, fiercely.
Dominic said nothing, but the words registered. He was starting to understand what Viggo might be pulling, and it didn't sit well with him. It was one thing to be possessive of your partner because they were flighty or maybe had a tendency to fool around, and Dominic could understand Viggo acting that way at the beginning of his relationship with Orlando. The boy was still rather rambunctious, and had a mind to just go off and do whatever he pleased, without regards to anyone else. Viggo'd always had a hard time with that.
Yet, here they were, over a year later, and Orlando had shown nothing but dedication and faithfulness towards Viggo, yes the older man still treated him like pet that needed to be reprimanded whenever it stepped out of line, and constantly put in it's place, as a reminder of who was really in charge.
No, it didn't sit well at all.
He decided to hold his tongue on the subject until a later time. Perhaps he'd have a talk with Viggo. Usually the best person to step in and solve a problem like this, was a person on the outside - apart from it all. Someone who could consider things objectively.
Dominic sat back in his chair, glancing around the coffee shop. Not too crowded, but just crowded enough to make him a tad nervous. They'd had no rabid fans attack yet, but you never knew when one or ten would spring out of the woodwork.
Orlando smoked in silence. Dominic kept one eye on him, and one on the crowd. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a girl appeared at their table. Dominic cursed inwardly. How could she have slipped by?! He was slipping in his old age. He smirked to himself, then at Orlando. They both glanced up at her, and she smiled nervously.
"Um... you're Orlando Bloom right? And Dominic Monaghan?"
Orlando plastered on a big fake smile, nodding, "Yeah, that's me."
"And that's me - only, not him, me. Dominic me," Dominic chimed in, smirking at Orlando.
The girl giggled a bit, shifting her weight, "Um, I was wondering... if it's not too much trouble… could I get your autographs?"
Orlando threw a glance at Dominic, who shrugged, smiling at the girl, "Sure, sweetheart," Dominic said, sliding a napkin in front of himself, pulling a pen from his inner coat pocket.
Orlando looked back to the girl, who was smiling a huge smile. He wasn't sure why, but she made him feel better.
"What's your name, then?" he asked.
"Oh, sorry. Um, it's Sam," she giggled, toying with the ends of her long brown hair.
Orlando blinked, then laughed softly, "Hey, that's my sister's name."
Dominic chuckled, deciding against the obvious slew of incest jokes he could make, lest the girl had delicate sensibilities. Instead, he just clicked the pen and scribbled on the napkin:
Have you hugged your tree today?
Love and kisses,
Dominic Monaghan
He slid the napkin over to Orlando, who read it and snickered. He added his own:
Take care,
Orlando Bloom
Orlando picked up the napkin and handed it to Sam, who clutched it as if it were the holy grail. She scanned the words quickly, giggling as she did.
"Wow, thanks! I'll be sure to hug a tree before I go home, okay?" she said, grinning at them.
Dominic nodded, solemnly, "The flora appreciates your love and sentiment, Sam"
Sam giggled again and waved, "Thanks again!" then was off, disappearing back into the crowd from whence she came.
Orlando shook his head at Dominic, who was grinning like an idiot.
"You're too much, man. That girl's gonna be riding her high for days, now."
Dominic shrugged, mock-smoothing an invisible tie, "What can I say? I'm a charming bastard."
Orlando snorted, "Yeah. Right."
Dominic grinned, leaning in, "Well, at least now you know that if Viggo continues to be a right bastard, Sam will always be here for you."
Orlando laughed, throwing the pen at Dominic, "Oh piss off, Sblomie."
Dominic laughed, then glanced at his watch.
11:36am.
As always, feedback puts food on my baby's plate.
Dearest Collie and Jai --
Re: Dearest Collie and Jai --
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