Started as an Anagram Drabble challenge…

[darknightjess.livejournal.com]

Title: Sean Soap
Rating: PG13 Language
Notes: By-Product of the Anagram challenge put forward by milochka on rugbytackle
My words are “Ruby, Tack, Leg” and “Arty, Luck, Beg” for the last part.
Summary: Finally the answer to the burning question, exactly what does Sean Soap smell like?
A/N: Apparently I am insane, and have decided to take all of you nice people with me, but the good news: I’m a fabulous dancer.
And we have isern to blame, um, uh – thank for the product names (yea, it’ll make sense later – or not)
X-posted to my LJ and rugbytackle

You really need to read all parts (they are drabbles & a ficlet)
Previous parts located here:
Mad as a Hatter
A Bit Odd
Be Afraid



“So, a dinner invitation? This was a bit unexpected.” Viggo said as they entered the restaurant.

Elijah swallowed and looked up at him before answering, “yea, well, um – you know.”

“Left your script at home, I see.” Viggo said with a smile that only managed not to be a grimace because he made a concentrated effort.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Elijah. Let’s get a table, shall we?” Viggo said with a sigh.

They ordered, ate and ultimately had coffee in an awkward state of near silence. During the entire meal they had managed to only speak a few words, ask a few random questions and it was apparent that the evening was in no jeopardy of being classified as the most scintillating time that either had ever had.

Because of the lack of conversation and the excellent service of the restaurant, the meal was over quickly, Elijah surreptitiously peeked at his watch and realized that Dom and Billy may not have had enough time to break into Viggo’s house, locate Sean’s decimated corpse, or remaining parts, call the police and have the news team on stand by for the interviews and close-ups. He decided a ploy to stall for more time was necessary.

“So. Want to go to my place and – um – you know, whatever?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows and flashing what he hoped was a seductive look at Viggo.

He thumped Viggo on the back and made helpful there, there, noises when it seemed that Viggo was choking on something and turning an alarming shade of red.

“What?” Viggo sputtered as soon as he was able to take a sip of his water and look at Elijah.

“Well, you know, I just you know –“ Elijah was cut off by Viggo saying rather loudly, “Elijah, if you say ’you know’ one more fucking time I swear I’m going to break your neck.”

Elijah squeaked and clamped a hand over his mouth; he suddenly remembered that he was having dinner with a cold-blooded, ruthless lover-killer and Bean boiler-downer.

“Uh, we can, you – uh, go home then, uh.” Elijah watched as Viggo swiped a hand across his face, tried a tight smile on for size, and then abandoned it for a thin-lipped not-quite grimace, nodding his head and abruptly standing.

When they got to the car and settled in, Viggo cranked the engine and then turned to Elijah asking, “Why exactly did you want to go to dinner with me, tonight?”

Viggo’s voice was low and gravelly and Elijah tried to swallow before turning wide eyes on the man now leaning close to him, eyes slit into a fierce scowl and lips set into a hard line. Elijah began scrabbling for the door handle as panic rose up in his chest; he opened his mouth and tried to scream as a hand was clamped over his face.

***

Dom felt along the top ledge of the doorframe and pulled a key down, saying, “Orlando told me that Viggo keeps his spare up here, and here it is.”

He waved the key in the air a moment before unlocking the back door of the small house and stepping inside. Billy looked up the deserted street before following.

“Now, exactly what are we looking for?” he asked.

“Evidence.” Replied Dom.

“You don’t think he’d just leave - parts lying about do you?” Billy asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

“Tough up ya big girl, I don’t expect that a normal person would, but he’s obviously insane, yeah? Look about, Billy, don’t just stand here up under my arse.” Dom said and gave the older man a light shove. “His studio is at the end of the hall, start there.”

“And you’re going to be where exactly?” Billy said with a huff and a raised eyebrow.

“Um, the kitchen.”

“I don’t think so. If I’m going to be knee deep in entrails, I want you there next to me, I’m funny that way.”

Dom cut his eyes at Billy before shrugging and starting off down the hall. He stopped at the entrance to the room and felt Billy close behind him. Dom reached and pushed the door open; they peered into the dark room.

“Should have brought some sort of light.”

“Light switch?”

“No, what if someone comes home?”

“Lij is going to call before they head home, we’ll be long gone.”

Billy squinted toward the corner, “there’s a lamp, less light than the overhead.”

Dom turned on the lamp and they looked around the room. Amidst the clutter of canvases, paints and, inexplicably what looked to be a small pile of twigs tied with silver ribbons and a ruby slipper with a tack with the word ‘leg’ stuck to the toe, they saw a low worktable. Dom walked toward the table, Billy stood looking at the twigs and slipper and scratched first his head and then his butt.

“D’you suppose he does with this stuff?” Billy mumbled. “Mad as a fuckin’ hatter I tell ya. Arty bastard, with any luck we won’t have to beg the gods to find poor Bean.”

“I think we found him.” Dom said in a voice that sent a shiver like pouring ice water down Billy’s spine.

He turned slowly and saw Dom standing pointing to neatly wrapped parcels on the table. Dom’s face was pale and a sheen of sweat glistened across his face.

“Fucking hell Billy, look what the bastard did, just look!”

Piled on the table in stacks were squares the size of playing cards, all wrapped in brown paper. Neatly lettered on each square was a description.

Dom’s voice cracked as he read off the words, “Sharpe Peppermint, Boromir Borage & Hyssop, Mellors Mango Papaya Splash. Oh Billy!”

As Dom turned and reached to grab for Billy he heard a surprised gasp and then a hand clamped onto his shoulder. He shrieked, there was a scuffle, a crash and the room was plunged into darkness.

***

Later that night lying in bed, Viggo ran his hand through his hair, tugged at a knot in a distracted manner and said, “I tell you it’s been a very strange few days around here.”

He lifted his hand from his own head and placed it on the chest of the man lying next to him. He ran his fingers along the sweat warm skin and dragged his callused thumb across a peaked nipple, eliciting a groan from deep within the other man’s chest.

“You invite strangeness,” was the reply that growled out past the aroused moan. “How did you let your insanity spread to the rest of the group. You should be quarantined, I tell you, crazy is catching.”

“You haven’t caught it yet.” Viggo said sullenly. “And it’s not my fault that Peter forgot that you told him you had to go back to London for a couple of days to sign the papers. He wandered around here looking for you for half a day before Fran reminded him.”

“Why didn’t he just ask you?” Sean said and rolled toward Viggo laying a hand against his chest.

“Well after that roaring fit that you threw when I wanted to go with you, merely for moral support, who could blame him for thinking we were done and over. You actually told me to ‘fuck off’ you bastard.” Viggo said with what he hoped was a hurt pout in his voice. He cut his eyes toward Sean and smiled when he saw the grimace on the other man’s face.

“Sorry love, I was a bit touchy. I’ll make it up to you, but first I think I’d like you to explain you going out with Elijah in my short absence.”

“He was acting so nervous, I thought he might be having trouble of some sort, with a girl. I wanted to help and then when he made what can only be described as the worst pass in history at me, well I knew he needed some advice.”

“So you scared him until he screamed, you tried to quiet him and he bit you and almost wet himself in your car?” Sean said, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice.

“I can say that part of the evening was a little unexpected. I was trying to give him a father figure to talk to, someone strong and mature. By the time I got him settled down and took him home, the poor boy was still hiccupping and twitching and I swear I’ve never seen eyes get that big on something that wasn’t in a cartoon.” Viggo shook his head and laughed continuing, “I still want to know what the hell Dom and Billy were doing in the house, ruining my birthday present for you.”

“I have no idea, by the time I got them to quit squealing like small farm animals, they had clinched onto each other and were blathering something about poison and for fuck’s sake – parts? It was all I could do to calm them enough to send them home. I expect there is some explaining that you’re owed, I can’t imagine what they were thinking, can you?” Sean looked questioningly at Viggo who shrugged.

“Hell if I know, we’re lucky that when Billy jumped and knocked over the lamp table he didn’t knock over the keg of butyl next to it.”

“Why exactly do you have that shite in the house anyway, isn’t it poisonous?”

“I was stripping some old metal frames I found, thought they would look good in one of the collages I’m doing. It’s okay if you know how to handle it; I’ve used it before. I was more afraid of the lye I used for the soap.” Viggo said and ducked his head, reaching to take Sean’s hand and bring it to his lips.

“How did you get the idea to make me soap?’

“You told me about your grandma telling you stories about making soap, back in the old days. I just thought it would be a little piece of home, something from me to you that tied us to your past, dumb idea, huh?” Viggo mumbled this last part into Sean’s hand as he traced the palm with his tongue.

Sean groaned and shifted closer, saying between breaths, “Vig, it was a beautiful idea and I love the names you gave them. And I love you. You may be a mad man, but you’re my mad man.”

Viggo leaned up and kissed Sean before pulling back and saying, “now, you said something about making the ‘fuck off’ comment up to me.”

Sean chuckled and pulled Viggo to him.