TITLE: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy Interlude 2/?
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: What do you do with a sick elf? (Viggo's POV)
FEEDBACK: It's that little extra spice that makes existence *extra*
nice
WARNINGS: None
SPOILERS: The Little Mermaid (seriously)
DISCLAIMER: Lies, lies, all of it lies!!!
ARCHIVE: My archive "Random Insanity": https://www.angelfire.com/scary/randominsanity/RandomInsanity.html
Anywhere else please ask, but I'll surely say yes
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, after all the angst in Pt. 7 of "Remember To
Breathe", I figured it might calm some of you down if I provided you with
some happy, snuggly Viggorli (and yes, Pt. 8 is on its way). This
interlude stems from an anecdote mentioned in Pt. 3 of "RTB" and takes
place a little bit before Pt. 12 of "FTE". Orli's 'theory' about
The Little Mermaid is taken from my own interpretation when I saw it as
an 8-year-old with divorced parents
"I would cut off your head, *Dwarf*, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
"You would die before your -- achoo!"
"CUT!"
"I'm sorry," Orli moans as he rubs his nose.
"Orlando, how do you get a cold when it's this warm out?" Pete asks with exasperation.
"I don't know. Sorry, Pete -- achoo!"
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"He can't help it, Pete," Karl laughs. "Why don't we just put Liv in a blonde wig and see if anyone can tell the difference?"
Pete shoots a murderous glare at Karl. "I don't need suggestions from the peanut gallery, either." Orli sneezes again, and I fight the urge to hug him. Poor baby. "Okay, well we can't shoot this scene if Legolas is going to have a sneezing fit, so let's take a break so someone can find some cold medicine."
John puts an arm around my forlorn boyfriend, then frowns and touches Orli's forehead. "For God's sake, you're burning up!" he exclaims. "Orlando, you must have a fever!"
"Fine, shooting is done for the day," Pete says with a tired shake of his head. The Rohirrim actors disperse, and our fearless leader comes over and puts a hand on Orli's shoulder. "I'm not upset with you, Orlando. It's just that we're a bit behind schedule and I hate to be set back again. So just go home and get some rest, and I'll call you tonight to see how you're doing."
"Thanks, Pete. I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be -- ACHOO!" He shoots me a pitiful look and I have to stifle my laughter.
"Come on, Orli," I say sympathetically. "Let's get you home."
*****
"Here's your orange juice," I tell Orli, placing a tall glass on the living room table. "Are you comfy enough? Do you need another blanket?"
"I'm fine," he laughs, then promptly disproves his point with another sneeze.
"You were saying?"
"Oh, be quiet. "Now come snuggle."
"Are you trying to get me sick?"
"I'm not planning on a snogging session, I just want to curl up with you." Orli gives me the puppy eyes and pouts. Damn him. He knows I can't resist the puppy eyes *or* the pout, and when he puts them together, I'm putty in his hands.
"Okay," I sigh over-dramatically. He claps his hands in glee and hands me the movie to put into the VCR. "'The Little Mermaid'?"
"What?" he says defensively. "It's a wonderful movie. Haven't you ever seen it?"
"Not that I can recall."
"Well, it's one of my comfort movies. I brought all four of them."
I take the rest of the movies and my eyebrows shoot up. "'The Sound of Music'? 'Fantasia'? 'The Wizard of Oz'?" He's looking at me with a sheepish smile. "These are your comfort movies?"
"Yes."
"How on earth did you think you were straight?"
Orli sticks out his tongue and then blows his nose. "Put the sodding video on, Viggo. Wanna snuggle with you."
How do I say no to that? Climbing under the mountain of blankets, I pull Orli close to me and smile as he uses my chest as a pillow. The fever is almost gone thanks to the ibuprofen, and he's more sleepy and congested than anything else right now. His face is still warm when he reaches up and kisses my neck.
"Thanks for taking care of me."
"It's my job," I laugh, ruffling his mohawk. "If I didn't take care of you, you'd be liable to go skydiving with a fever, and I can't have that happening."
"No, I always watch these movies when I get sick. Now be quiet so we can watch the pretty mermaids." When I look at him strangely, he shrugs. "How could you not have seen this movie anyway? Didn't Henry see it?"
"Henry preferred 'Aladdin' and 'The Lion King' to pretty mermaids."
"Well, you both missed out big time. 'The Little Mermaid' is a cinematic masterpiece on par with 'Citizen Kane' or 'The Godfather'."
"If you say so."
Okay, so this *is* a really good movie. It's cute on one level and touching on another, and when the crab starts singing "Under the Sea", I find myself grinning and bopping along. Of course, Orli feels compelled to hurl insults at the evil sea-witch (he theorizes that she's the bitter ex-wife of King Triton), and he sings along with all of the songs. Whoever said that elves have beautiful voices have never heard my boyfriend sing "Part of Your World."
At the end, as Ariel is marrying Prince Eric, Orli grins and shouts, "You go, girl!"
"You are completely insane," I gasp as I laugh my ass off. "Orli, you just out-gayed Ian by shouting 'you go, girl!' at a Disney mermaid princess. You out-gayed *Legolas* for God's sake."
"Oh, quit bitching and put on 'Fantasia'."
"Good choice. There's nothing you can sing along with there."
"I'll have you know that I have a perfectly good singing voice," he says indignantly. I just give him a patronizing smile and put the next tape into the VCR.
*****
Those dancing alligators always scare the shit out of me," Orli shudders during 'Fantasia'. "Do you mind holding me until this part is over?"
"We could always just fast-forward," I suggest.
"No! This is wonderful music? Don't you want to hold me anymore?"
"Get over here, you manipulative sickling." I pull him against me and kiss his head. "I think your fever is completely gone."
"Mmm, well you're really good at taking care of me. Can I make a confession?"
"Sure."
"I have no problem with the alligators. I just wanted you to hold me."
*****
"I always thought that those trees were like Ents with a personality disorder," Orli comments as we watch the talking trees angrily throw apples at Dorothy, Toto, and the Scarecrow.
"Do you know that there's a theory that 'The Wizard of Oz' was originally written as an allegory about the Gold Standard of the late nineteenth century?"
Orli looks at me and shakes his head. "Viggo, you are *not* going to bring academia into my comfort movies."
*****
"Liesel is such a babe," he sighs as we watch 'The Sound of Music'. "I always wished that her dress was more sheer when she gets caught in that downpour."
"You're pathetic," I laugh. "Besides, Captain Von Trapp is more my type. He's a really handsome guy."
"Hmm. That's what Atti thinks, too. Every time we watch this, he always says he'd love to have a shot at him."
"Really?"
"No." He gives me a grin and we start cracking up, and he spills his juice all over my shirt. "Uh-oh," he says, still grinning. "Now you have to take your shirt off."
"You did that on purpose!"
"Of course I did." His hands take off my sticky shirt and he kisses my shoulder. "Now it's *my* turn to take care of *you*."
"Orli, you're sick," I remind him, although his tongue tracing my collarbone feels pretty good.
"My fever is long gone, thanks to you. And I promise not to kiss you on the mouth." He winks at me. "I'll just kiss you everywhere else. I doubt you'll get my cold if I kiss you here." His lips brush against my nipple. "Or here." He kisses a ticklish spot under my ribs.
"Mmm, I suppose you're right."
He pulls away and takes off his own shirt. "I know I'm right. Now just lie back and -- ACHOO!"
"Oh, Orli," I laugh, drawing him close and cocooning us in the warmth of the blankets. "Poor thing."
"I'm not a wounded puppy, Vig," he protests, although that's exactly what he looks like. A shirtless wounded puppy.
*****
A strange silence fills the room as I turn off the TV after hours of watching Orli's 'comfort movies'. The living room floor is littered with tissues and video cases, and four empty glasses of orange juice sit on the coffee table, since he refused to reuse the same cup (I have no clue why). Sprawled shamelessly across my body is a sleeping elf.
"Orli," I say softly. No response. "Love, wake up." Nothing. "Come on, Orli, it's bedtime. We have to wake up early to go back to work." Again, no response, except for a little drool.
Shaking my head and making a mental list of all the reasons why he's worth this, I carry him up to the bedroom. Once he's safely in pajamas and under the blankets, I turn out the lights and kiss his forehead, happy that the fever is gone and the congestion is barely there.
"Vig?" His voice is scratchy from sleep. "Did you carry me?"
"Yeah. You wouldn't wake up."
He wraps himself around me and kisses my cheek. "Thank you for taking care of me. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"You really are so wonderful, Vig."
"So are you, Orli. Now get some sleep."
"So big and strong and handsome. So sexy--"
"Orli, I already told you that I'm never going to wear a nurse's outfit."
"Damnit."
