Bird Watching

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Title: "Bird Watching"
Featuring: Orlando Bloom, Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Just a friendly chat between friends. Gen-fic.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Notes: Dialogue only ficlet for Jo, who wanted fluff. This was as close as I could get.


"Oi, check out the tits on that bird."

"You're such a pig, Bloom."

"Yeah, yeah. You're just jealous because I pull hot models and you're stuck with...oh, yeah, your hand, right, since no one'll have you?"

"That's not nice. I have a great relationship with my hand."

"Healthiest relationship you've ever had n'all."

"That's not true. You and I are pretty healthy."

"Vig, we're the exact opposite of healthy. You only call me when you're drunk."

"That's healthy. At least I call you."

"And bitch about whatever hot young thing you've got a crush on and how they all look up to you, but won't let you shag them stupid."

"It's hard being an icon."

"Your own fault for being so cool."

"Is that we never had sex?"

"No, we never shagged because I don't go for blokes. And you kept chasing after Bean."

"You blame me?"

"Uh...well, except for the bit where I'm not into guys, I guess not. He is Bean. He might even be cooler than you are."

"He's also straighter than you. You'd think, what with him being an artist that he'd be more flexible."

"I feel your pain, truly."

"Sarcasm gives you wrinkles, you know."

"Good, I could use a few. I'm too smooth-faced."

"Which is why you'll never get the manly, meaty parts like me."

"Be nice or I'm making you buy the next round, too...oh, I think my heart just stopped."

"I think that was your dick getting hard."

"That, too. She was magnificent, wasn't she?"

"Very nice."

"You sure you're really, y'know, bisexual?"

"I just said she was nice."

"Women like that aren't nice. They're goddesses to be worshipped. Often."

"Is that your polite way of telling me you'll be leaving me to introduce yourself?"

"That was polite?"

"Go on, then. I'll just sit here and brood in my beer."

"You do that. And check out the bloke at the bar."

"Who?"

"Second stool from the end - Mr. Young and Pouty. He's been staring at you all night."

"He has?"

"And you wonder why you wind up with your hand so often..."

"Thanks, Orlando."

"Never let it be known that I'm not a great friend."

"I promise not to tell a soul."


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