ext_28851 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2007-08-16 08:31 pm
stormatdusk.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-08-16 08:31 pm
Entry tags:
Geek!Orlando, part 36 (Orlando/Viggo, adult)
title: Geek!Orlando, part 36
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stormatdusk
pairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: AU, m/m sex
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 35
a/n 2: For al, and for Lori, who have let me lean and made me laugh and reminded me what friendship is. Their support – and the fantastic time I’ve had writing this story – have seen me through some tough stuff this year. Love you, girls.
parts 36 and 37 posted simultaneously.
banner and icon made by generously talented galor5
Orlando’s cock woke up before the rest of him.
It seemed to do that a lot when Viggo was in the same bed. Orlando could hardly blame it.
But today - - well, actually kind of tonight, because gosh, it was still dark outside - - his cock didn’t wake up to get an early morning whiff of Toasty Boyfriend. Or hoping to maybe accidentally on purpose bump into Viggo’s thigh or belly or butt and cop a quick feel. Or something more.
Today, it woke up because it just plain couldn’t stand one more minute of this constant gnawing feeling that Orlando was forgetting something.
Orlando lifted his head and blearily squinted at his Darth Vader alarm clock.
4:58am. On Sunday. Geez!
He plopped back to the pillow to go back to sleep, grimacing at a weird crackly feeling on his face.
Huh. One of the condoms under the pillow had managed to smush-glue itself to Orlando’s cheek in the night. He peeled it off and squinted again.
Backdoor Blueberry.
Geez, what kind of people thought up this stuff?
On second thought, Orlando wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It might be Elijah. Or someone even weirder than Elijah.
Viggo was curled on his side, necessarily close in the little bed. Even when they were sleeping at Viggo’s house, in Viggo’s big bed, though, Viggo was always kind of snuggly and close in the night.
Orlando loved that.
He resisted the urge to sift his fingers through Viggo’s hair. Instead, he watched Viggo sleep for a while, the dim blue glow from the sound machine painting interesting shadows on Viggo’s face.
He couldn’t relax. He just… it was… there had to be… he couldn’t… ARRRRRRRGH!
That’s it.
Not one more day.
He slipped quietly out of bed, pushed on his glasses and grabbed some clothes. He tip-toe hobbled out of the room – hey, cool, his ankle felt even better this morning – and got dressed in the hallway so he wouldn’t wake Viggo.
Orlando was on a mission.
He was going to figure out what he was forgetting.
Five minutes later, he’d left Viggo a note on the fridge (that he was fine and had just gone for a drive and had his cell phone with him) and was out in the crisp pre-dawn, driving… well, somewhere, in his green 2001 Plymouth Voyager minivan.
It was weird to be out when the streets were so empty. The streetlights seemed sort of twinkly now, with no other headlights and stuff to distract from noticing them.
It was really kind of peaceful.
He drove slowly past Best Buys R Us. The store looked so different with everything dark like this. Viggo’s Butt Chair would just be sitting there all quiet and still, twiddling its thumbs, waiting for the Sunday staff to get there and open the store in a few hours.
He passed the little restaurant where he’d met Viggo for their first date. Orlando smiled, thinking of how much Speed Stick he’d gone through when he was getting ready that night. And how Viggo had made him feel all squirmy and embarrassed – in a really good way – when he’d made a big deal about seeing Orlando smile for the first time.
It was kind of funny how everything he saw reminded him of Viggo.
Oh geez, there was the gas station where he’d had to run in and… well, take care of… that… uh - - emergency that one time, when he’d been obsessing about what it was going to be like to top Viggo.
And there was the little gallery that Viggo’s art was in. But not the yellow painting.
Wow. Just, wow. Orlando couldn’t believe that Viggo had actually given that to him last night. Even if it wasn’t such an amazing, wonderful painting, just knowing that it was so important to Viggo….
Orlando shook his head. Viggo was… he was just the best.
Ohhhh gosh - - there was the McDonald’s. Where Viggo had said he’d - - well, where he’d… had one of his own. Emergency-type… things.
Orlando blushed. Gosh, that was so neat, that Viggo had… done that, too!
Oh, and there was the big billboard wishing Happy 50th Anniversary to Shirley and Alvin Kurtz, with a big black and white old wedding photo and lots of hearts and stuff around it. Orlando thought of how Viggo…
… well, actually, the billboard didn’t remind him of Viggo at all.
Though now it probably would.
With no real plan, he turned into the parking lot of the grocery store.
It was really nice that the grocery store was open 24 hours a day. Orlando actually never went shopping in the middle of the night – well, except for now, sort of – but he liked knowing that he could, if the urge struck.
It was pretty quiet inside the store, too. Even the piped-in music seemed a little hushed.
Ooooh... Orlando was getting a sort of a tingly feeling at the base of his skull. It was the same feeling he’d get every once in a while when he’d know the phone was going to ring, and then know who was calling. Without looking at Caller ID. He’d freaked out his mom a few times, doing that. Elijah, too.
This was a really good sign. Whatever he was forgetting was in this store. It just had to be. The skull tingly feeling was rarely wrong!
He decided to walk every aisle with his senses alert and his mind open. A mission, he reminded himself.
He kind of wished it was the James Bond theme playing over the grocery store sound system, or maybe that cool Moby spy-type music at the end of the Bourne movies, instead of The Carpenters.
Okay. First was the Produce Department.
He slowly walked past every display, looking at every fruit, every vegetable, even reading the labels. The bin of lemons reminded him of Viggo’s painting, with its bright bursting yellows. But no, it wasn’t lemons that he was forgetting. Nothing in the Product Department seemed to be the answer.
Mmm, the Bakery Department smelled good. Maybe he would get something for breakfast, to take home and have with Viggo later. Oooo, they had those chocolate-filled croissant things that Orlando really liked. He asked the lady behind the counter for two, grabbing a little plastic basket to put them in while she wrapped them up. Tempted, he looked around the rest of the case for other things that might be yummy….
Orlando honked and jerked sideways as his cock suddenly drummed impatient fingers against his balls.
He shook himself out of Bakery Hypnosis. Geez! He was supposed to be on a mission here, to figure out what he was forgetting! Some spy he was turning out to be, shopping for bakery stuff instead of tracking down the bad guy. Or whatever.
Hopefully the lady behind the bakery counter would just think he had allergies or something.
He moved on, quietly keeping the croissants. Since he already had them.
His cock had to let him eat, after all.
Okay, the Frozen Foods Department.
Juice? No… that wasn’t doing anything for the skull tingly feeling. Eggo waffles? No… he didn’t think so. TV dinners? Nope. But this one with mixed light and dark meat chicken nuggets and cheesy potato soufflé and an imitation brownie with sprinkles looked good. He put two in his basket. Maybe he would cook for Viggo tonight.
It seemed like the only customers in the store at this hour were older people. Maybe one of those shuttle buses from a retirement home was here. Those shuttle buses were pretty cool, actually. Orlando thought it might be fun to live in a retirement home someday, so he could ride on one of those little buses to the grocery store and Target and stuff. He would totally try to get one of those sitting-sideways seats near the front.
Orlando suddenly jumped back, just managing to duck his cock’s annoyed whack. Ha! Apparently Orlando wasn’t so distracted after all!
Well, okay, he was a little distracted.
And hey, now his cock was totally doing that weird divining rod thing again, trying to yank him toward one of the aisles. He stealthily moved toward Pasta & Rice, spy senses attuned.
He figured he looked pretty darn spy-cool right now, as long as he didn’t count the bright blue plastic basket full of croissants and TV dinners he was toting.
There were two little old ladies talking together, looking at a package of something. He couldn’t help but overhear them.
“… Frank loves it when I make the rice and then mix in some sautéed chicken and diced tomatoes and green onions. And then sour cream on the side, with some tortilla chips.”
“Really? That sounds kind of… adventurous….”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Dorothy; live a little! Just get some and try it! We both know you’ll be phoning me up tomorrow and saying, ‘You were right, Loretta; I love Vigo!’ ”
+++ BOING +++
Orlando blinked.
Well, gosh, of course!
That was what he was forgetting. He loved Viggo.
Oh god, that was totally it! He could feel that icky, itchy, WHAT-THE-HECK-IS-IT sensation evaporate, leaving him all relaxed and calm and a-HA! feeling.
Geez, what a relief! It was so, so good to finally get rid that nagging feeling of forgetting something!
And what a goofy thing to forget, too, that Orlando loved Viggo. What a dork he was all this time, to be forgetting something like tha –
Wai –
Orlando lo –
Orlando loved Vi –
Okay. Orlando.
Loved Viggo.
Orlando loved Viggo.
Orlando. Loved. Viggo.
Orlando loved Viggo!
ORLANDO WAS IN LOVE… WITH VIGGO!!!!!
Oh… oh god.
Suddenly the grocery store swayed like it had been smoking too much Longbottom Leaf. Orlando sat down hard on the floor, nearly knocking off both his glasses and several nearby cans of SpaghettiOs® with Sliced Franks in the process. The little old ladies turned and looked at him.
Wow. How could he forget that? That was kind of a big thing!
Yikes, did this mean there was something wrong with his memory? Maybe he needed more cranberries and alfalfa sprouts in his diet. Those were supposed to be good for your brain, weren’t they? He wondered if Spam was good memory food. He should probably google that.
Holy moly. He totally had to tell Viggo that he loved Viggo!
Wow!
Wait.
What if… what if Viggo didn’t love him back?
Well, duh. Orlando didn’t love Viggo only if Viggo loved him back. He just loved Viggo, period.
And that was a really nice thing, right? Viggo would think that was a nice thing. At least, Orlando was pretty sure he would.
Either way, it was an important thing, and it involved Viggo. So Viggo should know about it.
Yep, he was going to tell Viggo.
He was going to tell Viggo that he loved him.
Right now!
Orlando made an excited hobble-scramble to the exit, the bright blue plastic basket abandoned on the grocery store floor.
continued here
author:
stormatduskpairing: Viggo/Orlando
rating: adult
warnings: AU, m/m sex
disclaimer: this is only fiction.
a/n: starts here
picks up directly from part 35
a/n 2: For al, and for Lori, who have let me lean and made me laugh and reminded me what friendship is. Their support – and the fantastic time I’ve had writing this story – have seen me through some tough stuff this year. Love you, girls.
parts 36 and 37 posted simultaneously.
galor5Orlando’s cock woke up before the rest of him.
It seemed to do that a lot when Viggo was in the same bed. Orlando could hardly blame it.
But today - - well, actually kind of tonight, because gosh, it was still dark outside - - his cock didn’t wake up to get an early morning whiff of Toasty Boyfriend. Or hoping to maybe accidentally on purpose bump into Viggo’s thigh or belly or butt and cop a quick feel. Or something more.
Today, it woke up because it just plain couldn’t stand one more minute of this constant gnawing feeling that Orlando was forgetting something.
Orlando lifted his head and blearily squinted at his Darth Vader alarm clock.
4:58am. On Sunday. Geez!
He plopped back to the pillow to go back to sleep, grimacing at a weird crackly feeling on his face.
Huh. One of the condoms under the pillow had managed to smush-glue itself to Orlando’s cheek in the night. He peeled it off and squinted again.
Backdoor Blueberry.
Geez, what kind of people thought up this stuff?
On second thought, Orlando wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It might be Elijah. Or someone even weirder than Elijah.
Viggo was curled on his side, necessarily close in the little bed. Even when they were sleeping at Viggo’s house, in Viggo’s big bed, though, Viggo was always kind of snuggly and close in the night.
Orlando loved that.
He resisted the urge to sift his fingers through Viggo’s hair. Instead, he watched Viggo sleep for a while, the dim blue glow from the sound machine painting interesting shadows on Viggo’s face.
He couldn’t relax. He just… it was… there had to be… he couldn’t… ARRRRRRRGH!
That’s it.
Not one more day.
He slipped quietly out of bed, pushed on his glasses and grabbed some clothes. He tip-toe hobbled out of the room – hey, cool, his ankle felt even better this morning – and got dressed in the hallway so he wouldn’t wake Viggo.
Orlando was on a mission.
He was going to figure out what he was forgetting.
Five minutes later, he’d left Viggo a note on the fridge (that he was fine and had just gone for a drive and had his cell phone with him) and was out in the crisp pre-dawn, driving… well, somewhere, in his green 2001 Plymouth Voyager minivan.
It was weird to be out when the streets were so empty. The streetlights seemed sort of twinkly now, with no other headlights and stuff to distract from noticing them.
It was really kind of peaceful.
He drove slowly past Best Buys R Us. The store looked so different with everything dark like this. Viggo’s Butt Chair would just be sitting there all quiet and still, twiddling its thumbs, waiting for the Sunday staff to get there and open the store in a few hours.
He passed the little restaurant where he’d met Viggo for their first date. Orlando smiled, thinking of how much Speed Stick he’d gone through when he was getting ready that night. And how Viggo had made him feel all squirmy and embarrassed – in a really good way – when he’d made a big deal about seeing Orlando smile for the first time.
It was kind of funny how everything he saw reminded him of Viggo.
Oh geez, there was the gas station where he’d had to run in and… well, take care of… that… uh - - emergency that one time, when he’d been obsessing about what it was going to be like to top Viggo.
And there was the little gallery that Viggo’s art was in. But not the yellow painting.
Wow. Just, wow. Orlando couldn’t believe that Viggo had actually given that to him last night. Even if it wasn’t such an amazing, wonderful painting, just knowing that it was so important to Viggo….
Orlando shook his head. Viggo was… he was just the best.
Ohhhh gosh - - there was the McDonald’s. Where Viggo had said he’d - - well, where he’d… had one of his own. Emergency-type… things.
Orlando blushed. Gosh, that was so neat, that Viggo had… done that, too!
Oh, and there was the big billboard wishing Happy 50th Anniversary to Shirley and Alvin Kurtz, with a big black and white old wedding photo and lots of hearts and stuff around it. Orlando thought of how Viggo…
… well, actually, the billboard didn’t remind him of Viggo at all.
Though now it probably would.
With no real plan, he turned into the parking lot of the grocery store.
It was really nice that the grocery store was open 24 hours a day. Orlando actually never went shopping in the middle of the night – well, except for now, sort of – but he liked knowing that he could, if the urge struck.
It was pretty quiet inside the store, too. Even the piped-in music seemed a little hushed.
Ooooh... Orlando was getting a sort of a tingly feeling at the base of his skull. It was the same feeling he’d get every once in a while when he’d know the phone was going to ring, and then know who was calling. Without looking at Caller ID. He’d freaked out his mom a few times, doing that. Elijah, too.
This was a really good sign. Whatever he was forgetting was in this store. It just had to be. The skull tingly feeling was rarely wrong!
He decided to walk every aisle with his senses alert and his mind open. A mission, he reminded himself.
He kind of wished it was the James Bond theme playing over the grocery store sound system, or maybe that cool Moby spy-type music at the end of the Bourne movies, instead of The Carpenters.
Okay. First was the Produce Department.
He slowly walked past every display, looking at every fruit, every vegetable, even reading the labels. The bin of lemons reminded him of Viggo’s painting, with its bright bursting yellows. But no, it wasn’t lemons that he was forgetting. Nothing in the Product Department seemed to be the answer.
Mmm, the Bakery Department smelled good. Maybe he would get something for breakfast, to take home and have with Viggo later. Oooo, they had those chocolate-filled croissant things that Orlando really liked. He asked the lady behind the counter for two, grabbing a little plastic basket to put them in while she wrapped them up. Tempted, he looked around the rest of the case for other things that might be yummy….
Orlando honked and jerked sideways as his cock suddenly drummed impatient fingers against his balls.
He shook himself out of Bakery Hypnosis. Geez! He was supposed to be on a mission here, to figure out what he was forgetting! Some spy he was turning out to be, shopping for bakery stuff instead of tracking down the bad guy. Or whatever.
Hopefully the lady behind the bakery counter would just think he had allergies or something.
He moved on, quietly keeping the croissants. Since he already had them.
His cock had to let him eat, after all.
Okay, the Frozen Foods Department.
Juice? No… that wasn’t doing anything for the skull tingly feeling. Eggo waffles? No… he didn’t think so. TV dinners? Nope. But this one with mixed light and dark meat chicken nuggets and cheesy potato soufflé and an imitation brownie with sprinkles looked good. He put two in his basket. Maybe he would cook for Viggo tonight.
It seemed like the only customers in the store at this hour were older people. Maybe one of those shuttle buses from a retirement home was here. Those shuttle buses were pretty cool, actually. Orlando thought it might be fun to live in a retirement home someday, so he could ride on one of those little buses to the grocery store and Target and stuff. He would totally try to get one of those sitting-sideways seats near the front.
Orlando suddenly jumped back, just managing to duck his cock’s annoyed whack. Ha! Apparently Orlando wasn’t so distracted after all!
Well, okay, he was a little distracted.
And hey, now his cock was totally doing that weird divining rod thing again, trying to yank him toward one of the aisles. He stealthily moved toward Pasta & Rice, spy senses attuned.
He figured he looked pretty darn spy-cool right now, as long as he didn’t count the bright blue plastic basket full of croissants and TV dinners he was toting.
There were two little old ladies talking together, looking at a package of something. He couldn’t help but overhear them.
“… Frank loves it when I make the rice and then mix in some sautéed chicken and diced tomatoes and green onions. And then sour cream on the side, with some tortilla chips.”
“Really? That sounds kind of… adventurous….”
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Dorothy; live a little! Just get some and try it! We both know you’ll be phoning me up tomorrow and saying, ‘You were right, Loretta; I love Vigo!’ ”
Orlando blinked.
Well, gosh, of course!
That was what he was forgetting. He loved Viggo.
Oh god, that was totally it! He could feel that icky, itchy, WHAT-THE-HECK-IS-IT sensation evaporate, leaving him all relaxed and calm and a-HA! feeling.
Geez, what a relief! It was so, so good to finally get rid that nagging feeling of forgetting something!
And what a goofy thing to forget, too, that Orlando loved Viggo. What a dork he was all this time, to be forgetting something like tha –
Wai –
Orlando lo –
Orlando loved Vi –
Okay. Orlando.
Loved Viggo.
Orlando loved Viggo.
Orlando. Loved. Viggo.
Orlando loved Viggo!
ORLANDO WAS IN LOVE… WITH VIGGO!!!!!
Oh… oh god.
Suddenly the grocery store swayed like it had been smoking too much Longbottom Leaf. Orlando sat down hard on the floor, nearly knocking off both his glasses and several nearby cans of SpaghettiOs® with Sliced Franks in the process. The little old ladies turned and looked at him.
Wow. How could he forget that? That was kind of a big thing!
Yikes, did this mean there was something wrong with his memory? Maybe he needed more cranberries and alfalfa sprouts in his diet. Those were supposed to be good for your brain, weren’t they? He wondered if Spam was good memory food. He should probably google that.
Holy moly. He totally had to tell Viggo that he loved Viggo!
Wow!
Wait.
What if… what if Viggo didn’t love him back?
Well, duh. Orlando didn’t love Viggo only if Viggo loved him back. He just loved Viggo, period.
And that was a really nice thing, right? Viggo would think that was a nice thing. At least, Orlando was pretty sure he would.
Either way, it was an important thing, and it involved Viggo. So Viggo should know about it.
Yep, he was going to tell Viggo.
He was going to tell Viggo that he loved him.
Right now!
Orlando made an excited hobble-scramble to the exit, the bright blue plastic basket abandoned on the grocery store floor.
continued here