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fellowshippers2004-02-04 02:01 am
green-queen.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-04 02:01 am
(no subject)
Title: Feel Like Flying
Rating: PG13, I guess.
Pairing: Dom/Orlando
Disclaimer: Lies
A/N: Written for the Take a Flying Leap challenge and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
queenofalostart. Quote is from poet Hilda Doolittle.
Summary: Orlando feels like he's flying.
He said, I'm just out of hospital,
but I'm still flying.
It happened the way all injuries happened on the set. Jokes flew like arrows to mask the anxiety felt by everyone--the blame people placed on themselves, Peter's concern for the cast, worries of being unable to continue shooting. And, like everyone else, Orlando was back on set the next day, complaining a little more than Viggo did certainly but still dedicated.
Peter was careful to stay on Orlando's shoot for a few days, and when necessity forced him to oversee a few shots of Merry, Pippin and Treebeard Dom could see the anxiety on Pete's face. Billy could too, of course, because Billy always knew more then he let on, but he wanted to give Dom time to handle it. Orlando would listen to Billy, he knew, and Dom wouldn't want to give Orlando a hard time, but he loved the Elvish bastard, and it was just genuine enough that maybe Orlando would listen to him.
Billy called Orlando after the first week, when Orlando was still complaining every so often of pain in his side, and still working as hard as the rest of them. He could hear the lie in Orlando's voice when he said don't worry, I'm fine, this horseriding shit's fantastic, I feel like I'm flying. He allowed himself a line of caution and Orlando huffed at him. You're starting to sound like Dom. When Orlando finally hung up, Billy went straight over to Dom being strapped into Treebeard's hand and hugged him hard around the middle. Dom chuckled, bemused, and patted Billy's wig.
Everyone could feel the tension leave the air the day that Orlando finally asked Pete if he could go home early. Every actor in every location had an easier time that day, Pete was able to direct an intense emotional scene between Sean and Elijah, and Dom and Billy found it much easier to act when they had one less worry weighing them down. Even the seats seemed to chafe less. At tea time, when Dom and Billy were alone up in Treebeard's hands drinking what Billy was starting to suspect was Irish coffee, he looked around before asking Dom
"What did you do to get him to stop?"
Dom just raised an eyebrow at him and said "Now Bills. You know I never kiss and tell."
I answered, of course,
angry, prescient, knowing.
Orlando let his guard down when he was at home, with Dom, and it hurt Dom more than Orlando could have guessed to watch him wince as he picked up the paper, or to see the bruising across his stomach when he finally took off his clothes at night. When Orlando was asleep Dom would trace his fingers over the bruises, yellow and blue and purple, without touching the skin he knew was so sensitive. Tears would prick at his eyes, and he'd shift so that his arm could go over Orli's shoulder without going anywhere near his broken rib, and Orlando would make a contented noise and move his head, still graceful like elves are supposed to be without anything broken.
One night, though, Orlando wasn't asleep when he felt the ghostly fingertips of Dom on his side. When he saw, out of the corner of his barely-open eyes, a tear fall from Dom's face to his arm, sparkling, ignored, as Dom shifted to hold Orlando closer. He felt Dom tense when he neglected a part of the ritual he didn't know about, and Orlando didn't sleep for the rest of that night for thinking about Dom.
Which, of course, meant that the following day he was grouchier than Oscar, and mean as a cut snake. Dom was patient and caring, making coffee, helping him get dressed. It wasn't until he got home that night and Dom asked are you sure you're okay, you don't want to call Pete and tell him you'll take tomorrow off, that Orlando finally snapped at him.
"Goddammit, Dom, I'm not some fucking child you have to coddle. I'm not your bloody girlfriend. I can take care of myself."
"Then DO it!" Dom yelled back, throwing himself down on the couch. "Take care of your bloody self, Orlando, because I swear to God if I have to take care of you for one more day I'll go insane."
"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble for you," said Orlando bitterly, his back turned to Dom.
"That's not the issue here, Orli, and you know it. You. Need. Rest," Dom replied. His voice was low, hurt and angry, and Orlando couldn't ignore it. He turned around.
"I can't let anyone down like that," he said softly, eyes downcast. Dom stood up and walked over to him, cupping Orlando's face in his hands.
"You can't let me down," he said, and kissed him. Orlando kissed back, and as he drove his tongue deeper into Dom's mouth he realised that okay, maybe trying to ride a fucking huge horse while your rib stabbed into your lung wasn't really much like flying, but this was.
What fire lay behind his wide stare.
Viggo watched carefully, anxiously when Orlando returned from a brief two-day rest. He knew that Peter thought Orlando was okay, but he had to know, to be sure. He knew about Orlando's fears about falling, about how deeply the scar on his back really cut. He honestly thought Dom knew, too, but he had to be careful, had to be sure. So he watched Orlando mount the horse, still wincing slightly. Watched him lift the bow from his back, and saw a spark in his eyes; not of pain or preoccupation, as for the last week, but of furious determination.
The shot finished, and Orlando rode to where Viggo rested on his horse, contemplating the view. Viggo never just looked at anything, Orlando thought; he always had to mull over it, think about it. Orlando sometimes wondered how Viggo's head didn't explode.
"It's really amazing," said Orlando, voicing in his own simple way what Viggo himself was thinking. Viggo made a non-committal grunt, and Orlando looked at him, reaching out a hand to force Viggo to face him. "I'm all right, you know."
Viggo smiled crookedly as Orli nodded and looked back out at the countryside. He saw that fire again in Orlando's stare. The same dedication to the film that drove Viggo on, day after day. "Yeah, I know," Viggo said quietly, and settled back on the saddle to contemplate Orlando's face.
Green Queen
Rating: PG13, I guess.
Pairing: Dom/Orlando
Disclaimer: Lies
A/N: Written for the Take a Flying Leap challenge and
queenofalostart. Quote is from poet Hilda Doolittle.Summary: Orlando feels like he's flying.
He said, I'm just out of hospital,
but I'm still flying.
It happened the way all injuries happened on the set. Jokes flew like arrows to mask the anxiety felt by everyone--the blame people placed on themselves, Peter's concern for the cast, worries of being unable to continue shooting. And, like everyone else, Orlando was back on set the next day, complaining a little more than Viggo did certainly but still dedicated.
Peter was careful to stay on Orlando's shoot for a few days, and when necessity forced him to oversee a few shots of Merry, Pippin and Treebeard Dom could see the anxiety on Pete's face. Billy could too, of course, because Billy always knew more then he let on, but he wanted to give Dom time to handle it. Orlando would listen to Billy, he knew, and Dom wouldn't want to give Orlando a hard time, but he loved the Elvish bastard, and it was just genuine enough that maybe Orlando would listen to him.
Billy called Orlando after the first week, when Orlando was still complaining every so often of pain in his side, and still working as hard as the rest of them. He could hear the lie in Orlando's voice when he said don't worry, I'm fine, this horseriding shit's fantastic, I feel like I'm flying. He allowed himself a line of caution and Orlando huffed at him. You're starting to sound like Dom. When Orlando finally hung up, Billy went straight over to Dom being strapped into Treebeard's hand and hugged him hard around the middle. Dom chuckled, bemused, and patted Billy's wig.
Everyone could feel the tension leave the air the day that Orlando finally asked Pete if he could go home early. Every actor in every location had an easier time that day, Pete was able to direct an intense emotional scene between Sean and Elijah, and Dom and Billy found it much easier to act when they had one less worry weighing them down. Even the seats seemed to chafe less. At tea time, when Dom and Billy were alone up in Treebeard's hands drinking what Billy was starting to suspect was Irish coffee, he looked around before asking Dom
"What did you do to get him to stop?"
Dom just raised an eyebrow at him and said "Now Bills. You know I never kiss and tell."
I answered, of course,
angry, prescient, knowing.
Orlando let his guard down when he was at home, with Dom, and it hurt Dom more than Orlando could have guessed to watch him wince as he picked up the paper, or to see the bruising across his stomach when he finally took off his clothes at night. When Orlando was asleep Dom would trace his fingers over the bruises, yellow and blue and purple, without touching the skin he knew was so sensitive. Tears would prick at his eyes, and he'd shift so that his arm could go over Orli's shoulder without going anywhere near his broken rib, and Orlando would make a contented noise and move his head, still graceful like elves are supposed to be without anything broken.
One night, though, Orlando wasn't asleep when he felt the ghostly fingertips of Dom on his side. When he saw, out of the corner of his barely-open eyes, a tear fall from Dom's face to his arm, sparkling, ignored, as Dom shifted to hold Orlando closer. He felt Dom tense when he neglected a part of the ritual he didn't know about, and Orlando didn't sleep for the rest of that night for thinking about Dom.
Which, of course, meant that the following day he was grouchier than Oscar, and mean as a cut snake. Dom was patient and caring, making coffee, helping him get dressed. It wasn't until he got home that night and Dom asked are you sure you're okay, you don't want to call Pete and tell him you'll take tomorrow off, that Orlando finally snapped at him.
"Goddammit, Dom, I'm not some fucking child you have to coddle. I'm not your bloody girlfriend. I can take care of myself."
"Then DO it!" Dom yelled back, throwing himself down on the couch. "Take care of your bloody self, Orlando, because I swear to God if I have to take care of you for one more day I'll go insane."
"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble for you," said Orlando bitterly, his back turned to Dom.
"That's not the issue here, Orli, and you know it. You. Need. Rest," Dom replied. His voice was low, hurt and angry, and Orlando couldn't ignore it. He turned around.
"I can't let anyone down like that," he said softly, eyes downcast. Dom stood up and walked over to him, cupping Orlando's face in his hands.
"You can't let me down," he said, and kissed him. Orlando kissed back, and as he drove his tongue deeper into Dom's mouth he realised that okay, maybe trying to ride a fucking huge horse while your rib stabbed into your lung wasn't really much like flying, but this was.
What fire lay behind his wide stare.
Viggo watched carefully, anxiously when Orlando returned from a brief two-day rest. He knew that Peter thought Orlando was okay, but he had to know, to be sure. He knew about Orlando's fears about falling, about how deeply the scar on his back really cut. He honestly thought Dom knew, too, but he had to be careful, had to be sure. So he watched Orlando mount the horse, still wincing slightly. Watched him lift the bow from his back, and saw a spark in his eyes; not of pain or preoccupation, as for the last week, but of furious determination.
The shot finished, and Orlando rode to where Viggo rested on his horse, contemplating the view. Viggo never just looked at anything, Orlando thought; he always had to mull over it, think about it. Orlando sometimes wondered how Viggo's head didn't explode.
"It's really amazing," said Orlando, voicing in his own simple way what Viggo himself was thinking. Viggo made a non-committal grunt, and Orlando looked at him, reaching out a hand to force Viggo to face him. "I'm all right, you know."
Viggo smiled crookedly as Orli nodded and looked back out at the countryside. He saw that fire again in Orlando's stare. The same dedication to the film that drove Viggo on, day after day. "Yeah, I know," Viggo said quietly, and settled back on the saddle to contemplate Orlando's face.
Green Queen
no subject
He knew about Orlando's fears about falling, about how deeply the scar on his back really cut.
really resonated with me, and I usually don't find something that stays in my heart like that. Thank you again.
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Friended you, by the way.
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This was lovely. :)