"Hmm?" Karl, nestled at the other end of the sofa and still only clad in his pajama pants, didn't glance up from his tattered paperback copy of the latest Michael Connelly mystery. Orlando was momentarily distracted by the sight of Karl's naked chest (not exactly an unusual occurrence, but a pleasant one, nevertheless) and had a brief vision of staking his claim on it with his tongue (all the while internally shouting MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE, like a demented, possessive five year-old). But, then he remembered that he had something else on his mind, and while it wasn't quite as important as Karl's chest, it was still important enough. He sighed again, this time more forcefully, and gently cuffed Karl on the back of the head. "I'm trying to have a conversation here, mate." "And I'm trying to read," Karl retorted, glaring at Orlando and pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up with a finger when they threatened to slide down. Orlando, wisely sensing that it might not be best to annoy Karl (since he needed Karl's help with his newly hatched scheme and all, and had some chest-claiming to do later on after they hashed out the details of the plan), decided to change tactics. "When's the last time you spoke to Viggo?" Karl blinked, hazel eyes owlishly large behind the glasses. His dark hair was shaggy and fell into his eyes. Orlando pushed it back, tucking it behind Karl's ear in a gesture that was second nature. "Dunno," Karl said. "Month ago maybe? I think we're meeting for dinner after he's done with press for 'Good' in Toronto." "He mention Sean at all? When you last spoke, I mean." "No, why should he? If you left me to marry someone else, I wouldn't talk about you, either." Good point. "Oh, I bet you could come up with a few words." "Possibly one or two," Karl agreed. "Anyway, I think you should visit him." "Viggo? In Toronto?" The space between Karl's brows furrowed. "Why, what's going on in that scary brain of yours?" "This." Orlando shoved his copy of The Sun into Karl's lap. Karl scanned the page. "Oh, 'Lando, you're not..." "I am, and it's about time someone did something. He's bloody miserable." "He made his bed." "Fuck that, man, I'd want someone to kick my ass if I veered that far off course." "That's what you've got me for," Karl grinned, and ducked out of the way of the next swipe. "Seriously, it's Sean's life. I hardly think he'll welcome us interfering in it." "I'm not just thinking of him. Think of the children, Karl." "I am. Just like I'm thinking that Sean and Viggo have fucked each other over once. What makes you think a second go around would be a good idea for either of them?" Orlando hazarded what he thought was a good guess. "They're both older?" "And both of them are still making the same mistakes, love," Karl replied, and took the opportunity to nuzzle at Orlando's neck. Normally, Karl's lips were enough to distract him, but he had a point to make first. Not that he moved away, mind; he wasn't a bloody idiot. "Look, all I know is that Sean was happy when he was with Viggo." He made a soft noise of appreciation when Karl's lips hit a sensitive spot. "When's the last time you saw him happy?" Karl lifted his head. "When he won that fifty quid off you last Blades match." "I'm trying to be serious." "I am serious," Karl grinned. "Never seen a man smile so wide. Oh, alright," he added, when Orlando just glowered, "I'll grant you they were happy. Or seemed to be. But, again, their lives." "Maybe they just need a push like we did," Orlando reasoned. After all, just look where he and Karl were now. "You really think dressing Sean up in women's unmentionables might do the trick?" "I dunno, Viggo seemed awfully taken with the idea of you in a slip," Orlando reminded him, with a laugh. Karl's eyes softened with remembrance. "Yes, but only you got to see me in it." "Lucky me," Orlando murmured, and leaned in for a quick, heartfelt kiss. Best purchase he ever made, if he said so himself, even if it was Dom's idea. Although, speaking of the sneaky bugger... "Besides, you have to go to Toronto to save Viggo from Dom." "Dom's gonna be there?" Karl groaned, thumping his head against the sofa cushion. "Mmhmm. He's producing some film or another, thought he'd go to score some more contacts." "Christ, you know what he's like. Especially when Viggo's trying to work." "Yes, yes, I do." Orlando barely hid his glee. "Well?" "Fine, fine. I'll play superhero." Karl narrowed his eyes. "And just where're you going to be?" "Getting Sean to fly to Toronto as well." Even though Orlando had absolutely no idea how to accomplish that feat. Ah well, details. He'd figure it out, he always did. "Good luck with that one." *** Karl wasn't a pushover by any stretch. He liked his balls right where they were, thank you, (as did Orlando) and had no problems saying no (even to Orlando), when the need arose. But, for all of his grumbling, he did realize that something wasn't right with Viggo and Sean, and hadn't been for a long time. Even before they'd broken it off and Sean had gotten mixed up with the Blonde Terror. It still didn't mean that Orlando wasn't going to owe him for putting him on a plane to Toronto when he could be relaxing on a beach somewhere, with Orlando there to play cabana boy (one of his favorite fantasies). He hated film festivals with a passion -- too many businessmen, not enough artists -- but it worked as a cover for catching up with people. Especially certain friends who happened to be around promoting their own movies. As expected, the hotel where Karl'd booked a room was teeming with industry -- with actors and producers and promoters, with media and vendors all looking for a soundbyte, a sell, a small bit of recognition. The entire mess made Karl's skin crawl, and not in a good way. He was still contemplating calling Orlando and telling him the deal was off when he heard his name from across the lobby. "Karl!" Seemed as if the Fates were on Orlando's side after all, Karl thought, as Viggo pushed through the small throng of people in the foyer and threw his arms around Karl in a massive bear hug. Viggo never did anything by half-measures. When Viggo pulled back, his smile was genuine, if a little confused. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why're you here? You don't have a film out, do you?" Karl carefully started to steer Viggo away from the worst of the crush and towards the back bar. They had alcohol in bars. He could use a drink or three. "To save you from Dom." "Dom's in Toronto?" Viggo looked quickly around, like he expected to see Dom pop up from behind one of the columns like a jack-in-a-box. It wouldn't be wholly out of line, either. Dom was rather his own entity. When Viggo turned back around, Karl got his first good look at him, and what he saw wasn't exactly reassuring. There was a tired set to Viggo's eyes that hadn't been there, and new lines were grooved around his mouth. Even his shoulders seemed weighted with fatigue. Karl wasn't used to seeing Viggo so thin and tired. "Rest easy, you've got me as a bodyguard," Karl assured him. "He's not scared of you," Viggo scoffed. "Not since you and Orlando shacked up." "Domestic bliss suits me, what can I say?" Karl ordered two bottles of ale, and gave one to Viggo. The first blessed sip was like water to a parched man. "It certainly seems to. Is that really why you're here?" "Not exactly," Karl shrugged. He made himself at home on one of the bar stools. He'd be here awhile. "Thought so. You've never been good at prevarication." Only Viggo could get away with his vocabulary. "I just want you to know, this was Orlando's idea." Viggo took the other stool. "I'm listening." Best to get it out as quickly as possible. "When's the last time you talked to Sean?" Viggo paused in the act of raising his bottle. "I believe that was the day he announced he was leaving me, why? Which was...over two years ago, if memory serves." Karl had a sneaking suspicion that Viggo, who never forgot a thing, could name the exact date and time, if pressed. "He and Georgina are getting divorced." "Good for her for getting out. What's this got to do with me?" Yeah, definitely a lot of hard feelings there, Karl thought. "Would you say you guys were happy when you were together?" "I dunno, I mean, is anyone truly happy?" To Viggo's credit, he drew out every word, giving it full weight. "I thought we were, but then...well...a few things happened, and he bolted, so maybe we weren't as happy as I'd thought. Sean was never an easy read, even in the best of times." There was something Viggo wasn't saying, but Karl decided not to press the issue. He knew what it was like to want to keep certain things private. "You ever think about giving it another shot?" Viggo glanced up sharply. "Is that what this is? You're here to plead Sean's case?" "Not exactly. Orlando's got it into his head that you two're better off with each other than without." Viggo patted Karl's knee. For a moment, something that Karl could have sworn was regret flickered in Viggo's eyes. There was a flat, final tone to his voice that brooked no argument. "Tell Orlando I appreciate the thought. But I'm not interested." *** It wasn't that Orlando was a Pollyanna by any means. Sure, he'd found his happiness with Karl, and they'd been together through the bad times and good and hectic schedules and all, but he knew that what they had was rare. And totally worth all the sacrifice (and not just for the mind-blowing, epic sex). He wanted his friends to have that, wanted them to be happy like he was, but he also wasn't a Cupid, dispensing love potions and pink arrows or what the fuck ever. His friends would find love or not on their own, quite without his help, thank you. Especially without Dom's help. But Sean and Viggo? Well, they were different. Everyone had thought they'd go the distance. So when Sean and Viggo had abruptly split and Sean had shacked up with the Blonde Bitch, Orlando had known right away that something was seriously off-kilter. This was just his way of putting things back to rights. Rebalancing the scales, so to speak. He had a feeling that getting Sean to see it that way might pose a bit of a problem, however. Sean did tend to be the stubborn sort. "Thanks for meeting me," he said, slipping out of the booth to give Sean a hug. Sean looked tired, worn. There were more lines around his eyes than normal. His shoulders were slumped, hair mussed in the way it got when Sean ran impatient fingers through it. Orlando would be willing to bet a substantial sum he knew the cause. "Thanks for the invite." Sean slid across from him, ordered a scotch and water, neat. "Do me some good to get out of the house. Been a little tense lately." "Yeah, how's marital bliss?" Best to cut right to the chase. If Sean was still happily married, there was no sense in Orlando talking about Viggo and bringing up the past. "Not so blissful, I'm afraid," Sean replied, with a small sigh. So the rumors were true. Orlando couldn't say he wasn't surprised. "Does that mean the rags've got the right way of it, then?" Sean's nodded, curtly. "I was gonna call you, tell you meself. It's just been..." "No worries." Orlando put a comforting hand on Sean's arm. "I'm sure you've been occupied." Sean snorted, the sound derisive. "Yeah, guess you could say that. Bitch is trying to milk me like a cow." Again, Orlando couldn't say he was particularly surprised. "You've got good lawyers. She signed a pre-nup. You'll be fine." "Thanks. I'm glad one of us thinks so." "Hey, uh, look." Orlando fiddled with the label on his bottle of Tennants. He pointedly did not look at Sean. "Would you say you were happy with Viggo?" If Sean was thrown by the out-of-the-blue question, to his credit, he didn't show it. "I dunno, I suppose. But then...well, it didn't end well, let's just leave it there. And then, I met Georgie and that was that. Why?" "Obviously that wasn't that since you're on your way to divorce number four." Sean grimaced. "I'd rather not talk about it." "Why'd you leave Viggo?" "What's all this about Vig?" "Curious," Orlando shrugged, doing his best to act nonchalant about it. "Uh huh." Sean didn't look convinced. "Just wasn't working out. I thought I loved him, yeah, but it weren't right." "Why not?" From what Orlando remembered, the two of them seemed right enough together. "Because he's Viggo," Sean said. "Meaning?" Orlando'd always had the feeling that there was a lot Sean and Viggo never told anyone about the real reason they broke it off. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand." Sean's gaze skittered to the bar as he finished his drink. When he looked back at Orlando, his eyes were shuttered. "What say we hit the pubs until we find a good footie match?" Orlando had little choice but to agree. Round one may have gone to Sean, but Orlando was determined to win the battle. *** The alarm clock on Karl's bedside table red 2:18 A.M. when the musical ring of his cell phone went off. Karl bit back the yawn when he flipped it open, ready to murder the utter ass that was phoning him at this hour. "'Lo?" "Did I wake you? I'm sorry." Orlando sounded immediately contrite. Karl's anger withered -- he could never stay mad in the face of Orlando's remorse. "Not really." It was only half a lie. "How's it going with Sean?" "He's brooding. You know what that means." "Absolutely nobody does a better brood than Sean," Karl agreed. He could practically hear Orlando's frown over the phone. "What about Viggo?" Karl shifted one of the pillows under his head and stifled another yawn. "There's a lot of bitterness going on, love." "The course to true love never did run smooth." "Stop misquoting Shakespeare and tell me you have a gameplan." "I have a gameplan," Orlando said. Karl was immediately suspicious. "Does it involve Dom?" "I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own gameplan, thank you very much," Orlando grumbled. "Which means Dom's totally in on it," Karl guessed. He knew what the two of them were like. More importantly, he knew Dom's penchant for schemes. "He's got a backup plan I'm considering if mine doesn't work." "One would've thought you'd be done with listening to his hare-brained ploys after the incident with Sean's car." "That was a bit of a miscue, I'll grant you," Orlando admitted. "But his schemes got me in your bed, so I'd think you'd be more respectful." Karl laughed. "Oh, I think we'd have gotten there on our own eventually, but I see your point. How'd Sean take your suggestion to come to Toronto with him?" "He's more stubborn than ever." "That bad?" Orlando groaned. "You have no idea. But I'm wearing him down. Expect to see us in two days, even if I have to hogtie him to the plane." "Now that I'd pay money to see." *** This would teach Karl not to bet against him, Orlando thought to himself with a smug grin, as he and Sean both grabbed their carry-ons and departed the plane. It had taken a lot of badgering and prodding and generally being a nuisance, but eventually Sean caved. ("Just to quit yer whinin', y'understand." "I don't care what you call it, Sean, you're getting on the plane. Besides, you have to help me rescue Karl from Dom." "Dom's going to be there?" "That's what he said." "Good, I owe him one for my car." "I was hoping you'd say that.") Of course, this was where his grand plan had a slight flaw in it, in the strictest sense that Orlando had no clue what the next part of the plan was once Sean and Viggo saw each other. Dom had suggested locking them both in a closet until they sorted themselves out, but that seemed slightly extreme, and the sort of thing that sounded fantastic in the movies, but wasn't entirely realistic. They'd be just as likely to unite together to kill Orlando, supposing he managed to get them in the closet in the first place. They were both rather fit, after all. And he rather doubted he could press Karl into helping him, even if he did promise sex. "Stop thinking, yer givin' me a bloody headache," Sean grumbled from next to him. He was slouched against the thin seat cushions of their taxi, eyes closed. He still looked slightly pale from the rough transatlantic flight. "Sorry," Orlando mumbled, but kept watching Sean. Watching and plotting, because fuckall knew someone needed to have a plan, and there was no way he was using Dom's. *** Christ, the things Sean let his friends talk him into would be enough to drive a sober man to drink. And Sean was far from the sober sort. He couldn't believe he was here, in Toronto. In the same city as Viggo for the first time since they'd parted ways. Parted ways, he mentally scoffed. What an innocuous turn of phrase for what had really happened. Still, maybe it was time to finally bury the old hatchet and move on. Of course, it was slightly easier said than done when Viggo was across the bar, getting cozy with his co-star in 'Good', Jason Isaacs. Sean watched the two of them together -- dark and fair, blond hair on tanned skin as Viggo kissed Jason's cheek in an affectionate buss. That was Viggo...so open with his emotions. Sean remembered when Viggo used to be that open with him. He hadn't realized how much it would hurt, and wondered if this was what Viggo had felt, opening the papers and seeing pictures of him and Georgina on their wedding day. He shouldn't care. It bothered the hell out of him to realize that he still did. After everything that had happened, he had expected he'd feel relief that Viggo was now someone else's problem. Instead, all he felt was a deep well of hurt mixed with the worst sort of nostalgia. It hurt just to hear Viggo's voice, to hear his laugh. Just to see that wry, sexy smile. Sean remembered when Viggo's smiles were all for him. Sean wondered if Viggo knew that he could still remember exactly how Viggo tasted. If he closed his eyes, he could still recall it, nicotine and sugar, on his tongue. No matter how many different ways he tried to erase the memories, he never could. Sean was still paused at the doorway, contemplating whether he should walk up, do the polite thing, say hello, when Jason spotted him, and immediately made his way over to where Sean was standing. "Sean, you old rascal, I didn't know you had a film playing at the festival." Jason pounded him on the back in the way of old friends who hadn't seen each other in ages. "I don't, I'm just here to see some friends." Sean kept his voice light. It wasn't Jason's fault that Sean was having some sort of mini-meltdown over seeing Viggo again. Christ, he was a mess. "Sean. It's nice to see you." Sean didn't think anyone except him caught the slight hesitation in Viggo's voice. "Viggo." He carefully stood his ground. He didn't offer his hand. Neither did Viggo. "It's good to see you again." "You two know each other?" Jason again, looking back and forth between them. "Yeah, we knew each other." Viggo smiled at Jason and the shadows disappeared from his voice. "A long time ago." "A lifetime," Sean agreed. It felt like his face was cracking from the forced smile. "Ah, right, you worked on 'Rings' together, yes?" When Jason smiled, it was with his entire body. "Orlando used to talk about those days a lot on the Black Hawk set. Said you were all like brothers. Matching tattoos and all that." "Got it in one," Sean replied. It didn't surprise him that Viggo didn't talk about that time with anyone else. Viggo'd always been one for holding the really personal things close to his chest. Too close, to be honest. "So, Jason, what've you been up to since I saw you last?" Easier to talk about shop. Easier not to think about the past, and what could never be again. *** The rooftop pool area sign said that operating hours were from 10am-9pm, but Sean had never let rules get in the way when he wanted something. And right now he wanted a bit of peace and quiet and a bit of a think. Easier to do so up here; his room had gotten downright suffocating. It had been easy enough to slip away from Jason and Viggo after a few minutes of torturous, requisite small talk. And easier still to avoid Karl and Orlando, who were cozied together in their room like the cooing lovebirds they were. Not that he wasn't happy for his friends -- he truly was, and he knew better than anyone how hard they'd both had to work to make them work -- but the sight of the two of them acting the old married couple would have scraped a little raw at the moment. Best if he was alone. Still, he wasn't exactly surprised when Viggo eventually found him. He supposed they really did have some bashing it out to do. "Thought I'd find you up here." "Guess you get the prize." Sean didn't scoot over. Let Viggo find his own seat. Viggo chose the chaise next to Sean's. The wind immediately started wafting his hair into his eyes. It was longer than it had been last time Sean'd seen him. Suited him. Made him look more like the world-traveling poet and intellectual he presented to the world. He was still too thin, though. Older than he'd looked the last time Sean had seen him...but then, he supposed they were both older. Not necessarily wiser, however. "Why are you really here?" Viggo asked, after a long silence. His voice was hushed, out of respect to their surroundings or the circumstances, Sean didn't know. "Because Orlando talked me into it." Out of the corner of his eye, Sean could see Viggo tapping his thumb against his thigh -- a sure sign he was irritated. Well, he wasn't the only one. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. "That's it?" Viggo replied, incredulously. "That's all I get? Orlando talked you into it?" Sean's lips twisted in a half-smile. "Well, he did mention something about rescuing Karl from Dom." Viggo let out a huff of laughter. "And I just bet you jumped at the chance for payback." "You know me well." They both grinned. For a moment, it was like the past two years had never happened. "Did you know I'd be here?" It was asked in a calm voice, but Sean could hear the tension underneath. He'd learned a long time ago to work with the few clues Viggo gave him. "Aye, I did." Best to get it done. "You look tired, Vig." It wasn't what he'd meant to say. What he'd carefully rehearsed on the long flight. "I feel tired." Viggo's smile was rueful. "You don't look so hot yourself." "That bad?" Viggo nodded, his gaze thoughtful. Piercing. Always, Viggo could see right through to the core of him. "Karl told me about your wife. I'm sorry." Sympathy for his marriage was the last thing he expected. "Ex-wife, or will be soon enough. And I'm not. Sorry, that is," Sean clarified, even though he knew he didn't need to. "Look, I just... I wanted to tell you –" "Don't." Viggo clasped his hands in front of him, like the motion alone could stop Sean from speaking. "You don't owe me anything. We were both at fault." "Maybe so," Sean conceded. He felt oddly deflated. Numb. "But that doesn't make it..." He trailed off. He had no idea what to say. What he could say. "It's in the past. It doesn't matter." Sean wondered who Viggo was trying to convince. "The fuck it doesn't." He looked at Viggo's profile, etched in moonlight like a Roman coin. "We both know it matters." "What do you want me to say?" Viggo spread his hands out, tilted his head down as if in defeat. "It won't change anything." An inexplicable anger surged through Sean like a storm. "Typical, Vig, just bloody fucking typical." Each word was a snarl of balled-up insult and rage. "Christ, it's a wonder you don't choke to death on your own nobility." "What do you want me to say?" Viggo repeated, raising his voice to match the fury of Sean's. "It fucking haunts me, alright. Every day, every night. Is that what you want to hear?" Sean canted a sideways glance at Viggo, anger still bubbling under the surface, but at bay. For now. Viggo seemed sincere enough, but Sean knew better than anyone that Viggo was a bloody brilliant actor. "I only want to hear it if you mean it." For a long time, Viggo said nothing. The weight of the silence, the distance, stretched between them, taut with words left unsaid, a life together interrupted by deceit, indifference, silence. All of the above, none of the above. "Why are we even talking about this?" "You know why," Sean replied. He wasn't letting Viggo off the hook. He wasn't letting either of them off the hook. He'd done too much of that. "Maybe I was scared," Viggo finally said, his words a slow, soft drawl. Scared? Viggo was the bravest man Sean had ever met. "What the hell were you so scared of?" "You. This. Us," Viggo emphasized, scooting close to the edge of the chaise. "Everything. Nothing. I just was." Which made a ridiculous sort of Viggo-like sense, Sean supposed. For some reason, hearing it helped. He was still hurt, but the righteousness sense of anger was slowly abating. He knew better than most that festered anger could poison any relationship. "You could have come to me with this, Vig. Jesus, we weren't children." "We've done a poor job of acting like adults." Truer words were never spoken, Sean thought. When it mattered, they'd acted worse than children. "So, now what?" Which was the million quid question, wasn't it? To his credit, Viggo didn't try to deflect the question. "I don't know." "At least it's honest." This time, when Viggo glanced over, Sean almost lost his breath at the rawness radiating from Viggo's eyes. "I don't have it in me to lie again." If Viggo was going to bare all, the least Sean could do was answer with his own truth. "I didn't come here because Orlando asked." "I know." Viggo reached out, hesitant, his hand grazing across Sean's knee, the touch light, but as warm as a burst of sunlight. It wasn't simple. Things with Viggo had never been simple, not even at the beginning, when they'd just been friends. But, at the end of it all, simple was overrated. It had taken Sean a long time to learn that. Life was all about complications. He placed his own hand over Viggo's. Took the next step, because staying still wasn't an option. Not this time. "I've missed you," he murmured. Viggo's answering self-deprecating smile was almost the one Sean remembered from the old days. "It's been too long." It wasn't simple, not by any means, but it was a start. *** "Well?" Orlando all but pounced on them the next morning, when they all met for breakfast in the lobby restaurant. "Down, Orli, let them actually sit," Karl admonished with a grin. "And you say the Brits have manners." He dragged Orlando next to him. Orlando, for his part, settled happily and beamed at the two men across from him. "We do," he told Karl, but his attention was firmly focused on Viggo and Sean. Well?" he repeated, practically vibrating with anticipation. If he was right -- and he knew he was right -- Dom was so going to owe him. He'd done it all on his own, and not a closet in sight. "We're..." Viggo and Sean looked at each other and shrugged, then turned back to Karl and Orlando. "We have a lot of work ahead of us," Sean finally said. "And some things we should have dealt with years ago," Viggo added. "And?" Orlando prompted. Christ, getting a proper answer out of either of them was like asking a polar bear to fly. "And we're taking it slow." "Very slow." "But you're giving it another shot?" Orlando felt Karl kick at his ankle from under the table, and he kicked back. There was no way he was going to be satisfied with just that answer. Honestly, it was like Karl didn't know him. "That remains to be seen." But Orlando caught a glimpse of Viggo's hand sliding over Sean's under the tablecloth. He knew it. He fucking well knew this was a good plan. "As long as you both realize you shouldn't've split in the first place," Orlando said, with a sunny smile that had Karl burying his face in his hands. "'Lando, seriously..." "Spoken like the man who hit the jackpot on the first try," Sean grinned. "Damn right," Orlando and Karl replied simultaneously, then they both laughed. "Although, to be honest, I have no idea why I put up with him," Karl continued, ducking out of the way of Orlando's half-hearted swipe. "He's far too arrogant." "True." Sean's eyes had an unholy twinkle. "But we'd rather be indebted to Orlando than Dom." Both Karl and Orlando groaned.
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