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fellowshippers2008-11-07 07:25 pm
llaras.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2008-11-07 07:25 pm
Entry tags:
sea gypsies, miranda/sean/viggo
Title: sea gypsies
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
llaras
Fandom: lotrips
Pairing: Miranda Otto/Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: No chance of this really happening, but it's fun to play.
Notes: This is a sequel to i'll make bright your day. I wrote this forgatezilla.
the package arrives on a cold, wet morning in new york. her tea, a flowery jasmine, is too hot to drink. and so it sits on the kitchen table next to the unread paper and the remains of a sweet orange. there are crumbs everywhere.
miranda can't find the scissors, though she searches every drawer in the immediate vicinity. she has to open the box with a paring knife instead. there's no return address.
it contains three items: a straw hat, one perfect ivory white shell, and a plane ticket. no note, no explanation, but none is needed.
her bag is packed in less than ten minutes. the tea is forgotten. and so is her toothbrush.
ten minutes more see her toes painted coral pink, two hurried phone calls made and one husband and daughter kissed goodbye.
she doesn't even notice the rain as she hails a cab.
*
sean wakes to a clicking noise and nearly falls out of the hammock. viggo laughs and grins, eyes flashing, and it sends a flare of heat rushing from sean's toes to his head. he almost falls out again, flustered and not completely awake.
viggo takes the insults and rude gestures thrown his way in good grace, as always. but he doesn't put the camera away. and sean is glad for that, though he'd never admit it.
years ago he had marvelled at a painting viggo had done. it was all blues and reds, suggestions of beating hooves and night skies. sean had sighed and said, you are a creator and i am a destroyer. you make beautiful things out of nothing, while i make a mess out of everything.
viggo made a tsking noise and laid one palm flat against the canvas. not true, he said, i'm a destroyer too, i'm just quieter about it.
*
the boat drops miranda off just before midnight. she's bone-weary and slightly crazed from the long trip, but her pulse quickens the moment she sees the house, moonlit and small amongst the palms.
any anxiety she had about this trip or these men and their place in her world drops away in an instant.
they are already asleep, likely still adjusting to the time change and the different pace a holiday brings. sean is like a marble carving, strong and nude and silent against the sheets, his body turned away from the window and the warm night breeze. while viggo lies next to him in disarray, the brightly colored sarong around his waist twisted and half undone. a dozen tiny flowers smashed, braided and twisted in his hair.
miranda smiles and undresses.
*
miranda doesn't ask about the fresh scratches down viggo's back, just like sean doesn't ask about miranda's missing wedding ring. and viggo doesn't ask about anything at all. he just receives what is given.
they eat four different kinds of fruit for breakfast and play footsie under the table until miranda starts giggling and nearly falls off her chair. somehow this is all viggo's fault.
the rest of the day is spent down at the ocean. they play in the waves and sing made up pirate songs and fool around on a blanket like teenagers, trading kisses for seashells and bits of worn glass. miranda has the biggest pile at the end.
sean carefully builds a huge sand castle, complete with moat and turrets. viggo hums and drowses, fingers tapping a beat on his bare chest. miranda writes secrets in the sand and watches the tide wash them away. not all of them are hers.
*
two more days pass. sun, laughter and love in full measures all. and sometimes miranda feels that her chest will burst with the joy of it. there's nothing complicated here. no plans to make, no deadlines to meet, no expectations to live up to.
viggo has a fire going. he's going to bake fish and some knobby roots and who knows what else in the coals. but it will take some time for the fire to die down and so they sit together and wait and throw tiny sticks into the flames.
sean has gone sullen and still, lost in his own thoughts. his hands clench and worry at his knees. viggo watches him carefully and when a look of consternation flits across his face, viggo takes one of sean's hands in his own.
viggo shifts closer, brings their linked hands up to his heart and keeps them there. challenge unspoken. his gaze steady and true.
sean glances over at miranda, on his other side. he looks miserable. she takes his other hand, clasps it tightly, and touches it to her heart too. sean nods.
the distant waves sound so loud. for just that moment.
*
Author:
llarasFandom: lotrips
Pairing: Miranda Otto/Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: No chance of this really happening, but it's fun to play.
Notes: This is a sequel to i'll make bright your day. I wrote this for
gatezilla.the package arrives on a cold, wet morning in new york. her tea, a flowery jasmine, is too hot to drink. and so it sits on the kitchen table next to the unread paper and the remains of a sweet orange. there are crumbs everywhere.
miranda can't find the scissors, though she searches every drawer in the immediate vicinity. she has to open the box with a paring knife instead. there's no return address.
it contains three items: a straw hat, one perfect ivory white shell, and a plane ticket. no note, no explanation, but none is needed.
her bag is packed in less than ten minutes. the tea is forgotten. and so is her toothbrush.
ten minutes more see her toes painted coral pink, two hurried phone calls made and one husband and daughter kissed goodbye.
she doesn't even notice the rain as she hails a cab.
*
sean wakes to a clicking noise and nearly falls out of the hammock. viggo laughs and grins, eyes flashing, and it sends a flare of heat rushing from sean's toes to his head. he almost falls out again, flustered and not completely awake.
viggo takes the insults and rude gestures thrown his way in good grace, as always. but he doesn't put the camera away. and sean is glad for that, though he'd never admit it.
years ago he had marvelled at a painting viggo had done. it was all blues and reds, suggestions of beating hooves and night skies. sean had sighed and said, you are a creator and i am a destroyer. you make beautiful things out of nothing, while i make a mess out of everything.
viggo made a tsking noise and laid one palm flat against the canvas. not true, he said, i'm a destroyer too, i'm just quieter about it.
*
the boat drops miranda off just before midnight. she's bone-weary and slightly crazed from the long trip, but her pulse quickens the moment she sees the house, moonlit and small amongst the palms.
any anxiety she had about this trip or these men and their place in her world drops away in an instant.
they are already asleep, likely still adjusting to the time change and the different pace a holiday brings. sean is like a marble carving, strong and nude and silent against the sheets, his body turned away from the window and the warm night breeze. while viggo lies next to him in disarray, the brightly colored sarong around his waist twisted and half undone. a dozen tiny flowers smashed, braided and twisted in his hair.
miranda smiles and undresses.
*
miranda doesn't ask about the fresh scratches down viggo's back, just like sean doesn't ask about miranda's missing wedding ring. and viggo doesn't ask about anything at all. he just receives what is given.
they eat four different kinds of fruit for breakfast and play footsie under the table until miranda starts giggling and nearly falls off her chair. somehow this is all viggo's fault.
the rest of the day is spent down at the ocean. they play in the waves and sing made up pirate songs and fool around on a blanket like teenagers, trading kisses for seashells and bits of worn glass. miranda has the biggest pile at the end.
sean carefully builds a huge sand castle, complete with moat and turrets. viggo hums and drowses, fingers tapping a beat on his bare chest. miranda writes secrets in the sand and watches the tide wash them away. not all of them are hers.
*
two more days pass. sun, laughter and love in full measures all. and sometimes miranda feels that her chest will burst with the joy of it. there's nothing complicated here. no plans to make, no deadlines to meet, no expectations to live up to.
viggo has a fire going. he's going to bake fish and some knobby roots and who knows what else in the coals. but it will take some time for the fire to die down and so they sit together and wait and throw tiny sticks into the flames.
sean has gone sullen and still, lost in his own thoughts. his hands clench and worry at his knees. viggo watches him carefully and when a look of consternation flits across his face, viggo takes one of sean's hands in his own.
viggo shifts closer, brings their linked hands up to his heart and keeps them there. challenge unspoken. his gaze steady and true.
sean glances over at miranda, on his other side. he looks miserable. she takes his other hand, clasps it tightly, and touches it to her heart too. sean nods.
the distant waves sound so loud. for just that moment.
*
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for miranda, a joyous secret holiday, not needed in any way, but adored in that she's a part of something special.
for viggo, a recharging of his batteries, another wonderful cherished part of his life that fits in with all the other puzzle pieces.
but for sean it seems to be a lifeline, not only something he craves, but something that he longs for, and that leaves his heart aching when it ends.
bittersweet and yet hopeful.
thanks for sharing.
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