TITLE: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy Interlude (5/?)
AUTHOR: Elizabeth (sef7881@aol.com)
WEBSITE: https://www.angelfire.com/scary/randominsanity/RandomInsanity.html
PAIRING: Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Falling in love (Viggo's POV)
FEEDBACK: It's the sauce on my steak, it's the cheese in my cake
WARNINGS: None
DISCLAIMER: This story is solely a product of my twisted imagination
ARCHIVE: Help yourself, just drop me a line so I can brag to my friends
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the corresponding piece to Interlude 4, which
is Orli's POV on falling in love with Viggo
"Are you having a good time?" Billy asks me, his voice barely audible over the loud chatter of the pub.
"Yeah, this is a nice place."
"Do you want another beer?" He picks up my empty glass. "I can get you one when I go up to the bar."
"That'd be great, thanks." I smile gratefully as he goes to get some refills. Good. I could use some alcohol.
Usually, after a long day of filming, my first instinct isn't to go off to a pub with a group of people I've only known for eight days. However, I was unable to turn down the request to accompany my co-stars for one simple reason -- the request came from Orlando Bloom. And how was I supposed to say no to the opportunity to spend several hours being in the same room with him? So here I am, with six other members of the Fellowship, trying very hard not to be obvious whenever I steal a glance at my mohawked co-star.
This isn't good. I'm lusting after someone who's young, gorgeous, and completely straight. At least, I *assume* he's completely straight -- he mentioned an ex-girlfriend during a conversation two days ago, so he's definitely not gay. Odds are he's completely straight, because fate likes to torture me.
I've only spoken to him a few times, but we've spent enough time together for me to know that he's certainly not just a pretty face. He's funny, kind, and very smart; he has this wonderful mix of youthful exuberance and impressive maturity. He's a terrific actor -- although it's obvious that he doesn't believe in his own talents -- and it'a amazing to think that this is his first movie.
But what really draws me in is something undefinable. For some reason, I always feel like smiling whenever I see Orli. If his eyes meet mine, my heartbeat actually speeds up. And that's completely insane, seeing as I've known him for a grand total of a week.
"Lost in thought?" My heart skips a beat at the sound of that lovely Canterbury accent, and I look up to see Orli sitting down next to me.
"Yeah." I smile at him, trying to will my pulse to return to normal.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
Do I mind? My head is playing the 'Hallelujah Chorus' because Orli has decided to spend a few minutes with me. "Of course I don't mind."
"I'm so glad that you decided to come along with us tonight," he says. It almost looks like he's blushing, but it's probably just the strange lighting in the pub. "Do you feel like a part of the group yet?"
"Actually, I do. Everyone here has been so nice to me, especially you." Shit, was that too blatant? I can't afford to scare off my beautiful, straight co-star. Don't worry, Orlando -- I promise not to jump you without permission.
"Well, you're a great guy. I was nervous about having to deal with a new co-star at this point, especially since I have so many scenes with Aragorn, but you're a lot of fun and a terrific actor." Wow. He didn't even take a breath during that whole little speech.
"Thanks," I say softly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the praise.
"You're welcome." He flashes me one of those incredible grins, and I'm suddenly very happy that I'm already sitting down. The boy really should know that his smiles are lethal weapons -- just one grin and my knees start knocking. Shit, if I'm this far gone after only a week of knowing him, I can only imagine what a complete idiot I'll be in a year.
*****
What a long, miserable day. Whoever invented that horrible fake snow is now my number one enemy. All I want is to get out of this heavy costume and into my comfortable regular clothes, grab my sword, and go home. I have an exciting night of doing nothing planned, and I'm looking forward to it. After my wig (which is now coated with bits of polystyrene) has been removed, I trudge over to the trailer to try and shed Aragorn for the day.
I walk into the trailer and look around. No one here. I grab my clothes and start changing, and I'm standing in just socks and boxers when the door swings open and Orli bounds into his trailer with his usual boundless energy. Fuck. This is not exactly the situation I wanted to be in if Orli were to see me in a state of undress.
"Oh shit, sorry," he stammers. "I can come back."
"No, it's okay. I mean, I'm about to put on pants," I assure him, quickly reaching for my jeans.
"Yeah, no big deal. And I've seen you in less than this," Orli says, immediately blushing.
"What?!"
"Um . . . I rented 'Psycho'." The poor boy is crimson, and I give him a reassuring smile.
"Ah, I see." I finally get my jeans zipped up after several moments of graceless hopping and struggling.
"Besides, we're both guys, right? It's nothing I haven't see before." He blushes even more.
"Right." I smile again, trying to put him at ease. Maybe I should also change the subject. "So today was pretty brutal, huh?"
"God, it was awful," he groans, picking at his ears to get the bits of glue out. "And the worst part is that elves don't feel the elements, so I can't show any discomfort because of the snow."
"You did a great job, though."
"Thanks. But get this -- Pete wants to do a shot where Legolas pops out of the snow after the avalanche, and he wants to bury me in *real* snow! I'll be a bloody popsicle!"
Did he have to say popsicle? Because now I'm thinking about licking Orli until he melts. Stop it, Viggo! Get your mind out of the gutter and stop having inappropriate fantasies about your devastatingly beautiful co-star! "That sounds rough," I manage to say.
"Hey, it's all for the sake of art, right?" Orli gives me another grin. "I shouldn't be bitching, really. This whole thing is a dream come true." He starts peeling off his Legolas costume and I look away, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks. This is crazy. When did I turn into a lovesick teenager?
"So, uh, what are your plans tonight?" I ask as I slip my tee-shirt over my head.
"I have absolutely nothing planned. Hey, could you hand me a tissue? The bloody glue is driving me crazy."
"Sure." I grab a tissue and turn around to hand it to him, and . . . holy hell. Orli's standing in jeans and no shirt. Okay, I can pretend that all of the blood in my body isn't migrating south of the border. I can also pretend that I'm not staring. "Here you go," I say, holding the tissue out to him.
"Thanks, Vig." He swabs at his ears, and I try not to let my eyes linger on the smooth, muscular, flawless chest with its alluring nipples. Or on the tattoo that's tantalizingly perched just above the line of his jeans.
"What's that tattoo?" I ask.
"Hmm? Oh, it's a sun. I got it a few years ago. Do you have any tattoos?"
"Uh, just one on my bicep." I lift up my sleeve a bit to show him. "It's my initials, my son's, and my ex-wife's."
"Neat." He balls up the tissue and turns to toss it into the garbage, and I gasp at a long scar that runs down his back.
"Orli, can I ask how you got that scar?"
"God, it's the stupidest story." He grabs his tee-shirt and throws it over his head. Damn. "I was at a friend's house, and I was basically shimmying down this drainpipe. Anyway, to make a long story short, I fell a few stories and broke my back. The doctors told me that I would never walk again, but they operated and I walked out of the hospital less than two weeks later. So I'm basically the luckiest bastard in the world."
"Yeah, it sounds like it," I stammer. "Jesus Christ, you broke your back?"
"Yeah. I've broken pretty much everything else, too. And I've cracked my skull three times." He says it like it's no big deal.
"I'm amazed you do things like bungee-jumping after injuring yourself like that."
"Well, my injuries have all resulted from my own klutziness, not things like bungee-jumping and skydiving. That elven grace leaves me once the cameras stop rolling. I'm still amazed that Pete cast me as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed elf. I mean, I'm *nothing* like Legolas."
I smile at him. "Orli, you were cast because you're such a terrific actor that you can become Legolas whenever you need to."
He blushes again and looks down at his hands. "Thanks, Viggo."
"You're welcome." I grab my keys and wallet from their hiding place. "I'll see you tomorrow, Orlando."
"Wait up, man," he says, grabbing his own car keys. "I'll walk with you to the car park."
"Great!" I exclaim. Shit, that sounded *way* too eager.
"God, you are *so* lucky not to need fake ears," Orli moans, picking at his ears again.
"I'm just glad that my wig doesn't require me to get a mohawk," I tease.
"Hey, it was Liv's idea," he says defensively.
"I'm just kidding, Orli. It looks adorable." Fuck! Why don't I think before I speak?
He sticks his tongue out at me. "Very funny, Vig." Good -- he thinks I was teasing him and not being serious. "So, what are *your* plans tonight?"
"The same as yours."
"Ah, so you're going to sit around and do nothing?"
"Exactly. I'm not sure I have the energy to do anything else."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Oh, could I see that tattoo again?"
"Sure." I pull up my sleeve again. "There it is."
"It's pretty cool that you still have your ex's initials tattooed on your arm. But you said that you're still good friends, right?"
"Yeah, we are. Our divorce was incredibly friendly; in fact, we get along better now than we did when we were married."
"Wow. What's her name? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
"I don't mind at all," I tell him. "Her name is Exene."
"Exene? So you guys were Viggo and Exene? That's pretty wild."
I laugh. "Her real name is Christine. But she changed her name long before I met her."
"Is she an actress?"
"She's been in a few movies, but she's a musician."
"Really?" Orli looks very interested. "What kind of musician?"
"She's a singer/songwriter and guitarist. Her music is a type of punk rock, and she's insanely talented."
"You were married to a punk rocker? That's *so* cool."
He's too cute for his own good. "Well, I'm glad you approve of my ex-wife," I chuckle.
Orli laughs as well. "Sorry, I didn't mean to babble like that."
"You weren't babbling, Orli." We stop talking as we reach the parking lot.
"So I'll see you in the morning?" He has a beautiful, earnest smile on his face, and I wish for the thousandth time that he saw me as more than a friend.
"See you in the morning."
I suddenly find my arms full of Orlando, and I return his parting embrace, reveling in the feel of his slender but strong body pressed against mine. Too quickly he pulls away, giving me another mega-watt grin. "Have a good night, Vig."
"You, too. Goodnight, Orli."
He gives me a wave as he turns to walk towards his car, and I ignore the little butterflies in my stomach. That hug felt wonderful, that smile was so incredible, and I feel completely entranced by this bizarre and beautiful creature. As I float towards my car, one thing becomes abundantly clear -- I need to call my voice of reason.
*****
"Whoever the fuck this is, you better have a damned good reason for calling me at one in the morning."
I cringe. "Sorry, I forgot about the time zone difference."
"Oh, for God's sake . . . Viggo, if you're calling for Henry, he's been asleep for three hours."
"No, I'm calling to speak to you."
Exene sighs, and I can hear her shifting around in bed. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, pretty much. It's just that I could use your advice about something."
"I'm flattered," she laughs.
"Come on, Ex. You know that you're my voice of reason."
"Which proves that you're insane. But what can I help you with?"
I hesitate for a moment, twisting the phone cord around my fingers. "I think I'm falling in love with someone."
"It's not me, is it?"
"Exene . . ."
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," she chuckles. "I had to get you back for calling at this hour. I'll be good now, I promise."
"Thank you."
"So is it a guy? I'm guessing that it's a guy."
"Are you fucking psychic?"
"No, it's just ex-wife's intuition. Also, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Please tell me he's not a co-star." I stay silent, and she groans. "Oh, Viggo . . ."
"It's not like I *planned* on falling for a co-star," I say defensively. "I know that it's a cardinal sin."
"You've mentioned a few of them; do I know who this guy is?"
"Uh, no." I hadn't mentioned Orli, knowing that my all-too-perceptive ex-wife would immediately pick up on how I feel about him. "His name is Orlando Bloom."
"Huh. That's a fun name. I've never heard of him."
"It's his first movie."
"His first movie? How old is he?"
"He'll be twenty-three in January." The sound of her laughter carries over the phone, and I sigh. "I'm glad to know that you find this amusing."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she laughs. "And don't worry -- I know this isn't a midlife crisis; you'd never fall in love on a whim. So tell me about this Orlando."
"He's . . . he's amazing, Ex. He's genuinely warm and caring; he has this love of life that's absolutely infectious. He's smart and sexy, and a wonderful actor."
"Okay, now I think that *I'm* in love with him," she teases. "What does he look like?"
"He's just an inch or two shorter than I am, slender but not skinny. Oh, and you'd like this -- he has a mohawk."
"What's his ass like?" I know she's grinning like crazy.
I roll my eyes. "Very nice."
"Does he have a boyfriend?"
"Uh . . . I'm actually not sure if he likes men."
"Poor Viggo," she says, and there's no mocking tone in her voice. "Well, I'm sure he'd turn gay for you, sweetie."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Anytime. So what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," I say honestly. "I'm going to be working with him over a year, so I don't think that I can afford to fuck up our professional relationship with my misguided affections. And I know he sees me as a friend, but I doubt that it goes beyond that."
"Do you think that there's a chance he might feel the same way?" she asks gently.
"There could be. Maybe. I don't know . . . once in a while he'll give me a grin or hug me and I'll think that he feels something for me, but that could just be me seeing what I want to see."
"He hugs you?"
"He hugs everyone, Ex; that's who he is. He hugged me the first time we met."
"Are you really in love with him, Viggo?"
"Not quite, but I know that I'm getting there."
"Then I'd say that sooner or later, you'll have to take a chance and tell him how you feel. I'm not saying that you should do it next week or even next month, but it's worth the risk. He could feel the exact same way about you."
"Then he'd say something."
"Not necessarily. Listen, you're twenty years older than him and one of the stars of his first movie -- he might be terrified of being rejected by you."
"I guess so. I think you're right, though. It's not as if I can hide this forever."
"I know that I'm right. And if you don't tell him by this time next year, I'll fly out to New Zealand and smack some sense into you."
"Thanks, Exene," I laugh.
"No problem. Now go gather up your confidence, tell Orlando Bloom how you feel, and get laid. You need it."
*****
"This makeup is the bane of my existence," John grumbles as we hang around between takes. "My face is itching like crazy and I can't do a damned thing about it. And after it's taken off, my skin gets all pink and puffy. It's just not worth it."
"Come on, it's not that bad," Orli says, sitting down next to him.
John glowers at him. "That's easy for you to say. All that *your* makeup does is make you look even more flawless. *I* look like an overgrown hairball."
"Nonsense," Orli scoffs. "You're the sexiest dwarf in all of Middle Earth! There's no elf that can resist your allure -- myself included."
"Is that so?" John laughs, a smile breaking across his face for the first time all day.
"Why, Gimli! I'm shocked that you don't remember our earlier affair!" Orli exclaims, feigning hurt. "We drank the sweetest ale together and then rolled around naked in the Last Homely House. Your squat, hairy body was like an aphrodisiac to me, and in all my long years, I have never had a lover so talented as you." He turns to me. "Sorry, Aragorn."
Everyone's laughing at this point, even Pete, and my face turns bright red. Thank God for facial hair that can cover up embarrassment. "No apology necessary, Legolas," I say, playing along with Orli's little scheme. "It's well-known how Gimli entrances the elves."
"Indeed," Orli continues, "even Arwen, *supposedly* the fairest elf of all, cannot resist your charms, o son of Gloin."
"So my beloved has been cheating on me with a dwarf?" I gasp.
"I'm afraid so," Orli tells me in a solemn voice. "But do not blame her, Aragorn. For every elf, be it Thranduil or Haldir, Elrond or Galadriel, swoons when Gimli enters a room. Their robes hit the floor and they jump the dwarf quicker then you can say 'the mines of Moria'. And let me tell you something -- the feeling of that beard on your bare skin is unbelievable."
"Enough!" John exclaims through his laughter. "Thank you, Orlando."
"Feel better?" Orli asks, immediately shedding his Legolas persona. His smile is infectious, and everyone is now grinning despite the late hour and tediousness of the day's shoot.
"Much better," he says, clapping Orli on the back in gratitude before standing up and walking over to where one of the stuntmen is standing.
"That was so nice of you," I comment.
Orli shrugs. "I just didn't want him to feel so self-conscious about it. It was no big deal."
"Well, I think you made his night."
"He really needed some cheering up," he says a grin. "Do you need any cheering up? I'm really good at doing that."
"Thanks, but I'm doing okay," I tell him, resisting the urge to tell him that it would cheer me up immensely if he'd give me a kiss.
"Good. I want my friends to be happy." He gives me another brilliant smile, and right then it hits me.
I'm in love with Orlando Bloom.
