I stand up, rubbing my itchy eyes. I won't be staying out long tonight. Orlando and the hobbits are still bouncing. Oh, for the energy of youth. It's dark and cool inside the bar, a blessed relief. It's tempting to just grab a beer for myself. I could hide in a corner until Sean comes to look for me. It wouldn't take him long, and it's quiet in here. But I have to feed the hobbits beer. If I don't, they'll come looking for me first. The barman has sense. He's getting to know us already, and the pitcher is ready on the bar by the time I stop procrastinating. I scrabble in my pocket for money, but it's probably going to be one of those nights. I reach for my credit card, planning to leave it with the barman. I can always come back for it tomorrow. "Thank you, Mr. Mortensen." The barman is studying me. He must have worked out we're with the film. I feel an odd rush of aggression. Have a good look mate; this is going to be a big success. Heading back outside, the setting sun almost blinds me. Orlando's yelling something. "Vig, you animal!" "Me? Why?" I distribute some of the beer, then give up and sit down. I'm too tired for bar duties. "Leaving marks on Bean like that. That's how gossip starts." I feel a jolt of memory as I look at the bruises. Sean, falling. It's part of one of my nightmares. That's why I grabbed him so hard when he slipped. The panic in his face; I've seen it before. Today, the panic was short-lived. I don't remember what happens next in the dream, but I don't think I can save him every time. I smile, in an attempt to cover the darkness. I look up at Orlando. "I deny everything." Sean is looking at me now, turning my smile to a real one. Orlando is fitting my fingers over the bruises. He proclaims me guilty as charged. I just stay where I am, smiling at Sean. Now Orlando's gone, leaving a smouldering clove cigarette on the table. I'm not too fond of the smell, though everyone else seems to like it. I spare a moment to feel cross on behalf of Elijah. Orlando really shouldn't bum cigarettes and then abandon them like that. But he seems to get away with an awful lot where Elijah's concerned. I remember about Sean. Oh. He's still looking at me. I still have my hand on his arm. "You could've blamed Aragorn." It's all I can think of to say, and it sounds rather pathetic. There's so much else I want to tell him, but this isn't the right place to say it. The time, though. That might not be so bad. "I could," said Sean. "But that'd be letting you off too lightly." "Now everyone's gonna think that I'm some kind of clumsy redneck." I lean closer and whisper in his ear, "Someone who leaves their mark where everyone can see it." That gives him something to think about. Yes, the timing is definitely right. Now please, please let him be brave. "Maybe I should get my revenge. Leave my mark." His reply makes me raise my eyebrows and stare at him again. "Yeah?" I can't quite believe he's going to do it, but he is. A blur of celebration crosses my brain. Trumpets and angels and streamers and now I'm being totally ridiculous, but I don't care. "You just wait." His eyes are promising more than his words. "You just wait and see." * * * Waiting for Viggo to make the first move was going to bloody kill him. "What was that?" Sean looked up into Orlando's smiling eyes, felt a blush -- God, a blush at his age -- creep across his cheeks. "Did I say that out loud?" "'Fraid so." Orlando straddled the chair beside Sean, looked past him to the door of the bar. "Yo, Lij, give over." "Your mother ever teach you to ask?" Elijah grumbled, but passed Orlando the battered pack of cloves anyway. "Viggo's inside getting the next round. Anyone want anything?" Orlando and Sean both shook their heads; Dom and Billy were too busy conferring with each other to notice much of anything. "Thanks." Orlando took a deep drag from his newly lit cigarette, passed the pack back to Elijah. "Now leave us adults alone for a minute, would you?" "Adults? Where?" Elijah grinned, showing that gap that used to make Sean's palms sweat in guilty pleasure. Before Viggo. Orlando stared hard at Elijah. "Leave before I turn you over my knee." "Promise?" Elijah wagged his eyebrows, but backed away, hands held high in a gesture of surrender. "I'm gone, I'm gone." "Cheeky monkey," Orlando sighed, but smiled when he turned back to Sean. "So?" "So, nothing. And I mean that. Nothing." Sean glanced into his empty mug as if it held the secrets to the universe somewhere in the foamy bits. And it very well might. After all, millions of Irishmen couldn't be wrong, right? "So, what're those, then?" Orlando asked, pressing two fingers against Sean's forearm. "Viggo saved me from a nasty spill." Sean shrugged when Orlando took his hand away. "Weren't nothin'." "It's a start." Orlando smiled at Sean, then looked past him, grin lighting his entire face. "Hey, Vig, a little more subtlety next time!" Sean whipped his head around, stared into Viggo's confused eyes. Viggo looked disheveled, unkempt, unfocused, and was so bloody sexy it made Sean's dick hurt. "What're you talking about?" Viggo asked, setting the full pitcher of beer down on the table and taking the chair on Sean's other side. "These." Orlando reaches past Sean, grabbed Viggo's hand, and placed it over the finger-sized bruises on Sean's arm. "New Line'll be pissed if you start making their valuable property like that." He winked and stood, leaving his burning clove behind when he walked away. Sean was tempted to pick it up, but refrained. Girls were on him to quit anyway. "New Line's valuable property, hmm?" Sean looked up, shaking his head, but didn't attempt to move Viggo's hand. The warmth of fingers calloused from sword-fighting and horseback-riding felt perfect against his skin. Sean found himself wondering what they'd feel like running along other parts of his body. Tried to think of something to say...anything to keep the conversation going. Anything to keep those pale, fathomless eyes focused on him. "Well, they haven't left their brand on me the way you have." Viggo leaned in, breath fanning across Sean's cheek. Sean shivered, shifted closer. More. "And what if I wanted you to brand me?" He didn't...he did? Didn't he? "Vig, are you...?" Viggo's lips curved in an enigmatic smile. "Maybe." Maybe, Sean's ass. This was his shot; he wasn't blowing it. He leaned back, matched Viggo's smile, but his hand dropped to Viggo's knee, sliding upwards. "Anyplace you'd like me to brand you?" Viggo shuddered. "Sean..." Sean's voice dropped. Victory. "Think I'll wait...surprise you. You do like surprises, yes?" Viggo could only nod.
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