Coming Home

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Title: "Coming Home"
Pairing: Karl Urban/Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Never happened.
Summary: True mates know what you need even when you don't.
Notes: Written for the Comment_Fic Free For All post - my prompts were 'getting stoned' and Karl/Sean/Viggo.


Sean's not much for feeling sorry for himself, for carrying on and crying in his beer after a bad breakup or bad day at work or at whatever other disappointments and set-backs life has to offer. They're all part of the joys and frustrations of living, aren't they, and he knows better than most how good he's got it. No use moping about like one of his girls, all long faces and whatnot, whinging over things he couldn't change.

Still, when he'd come back from England, freshly divorced for the third time and perhaps a little more sad about it that he'd ought to be, considering they hadn't suited from the start, he'd been gratified at Viggo and Karl's invite to dinner and maybe a late night swim. It's nice to have mates that know what you need even when you don't.

Viggo welcomes him with a hug and a smile and a freshly poured pint, bare-chested and barefoot, paint speckled on his cut-offs and in his hair. Karl's similarly dressed (without the paint, except for one vermillion-colored handprint on his inner thigh that Sean doesn't even need to ask about), and his hug is as warm and welcoming as the ocean outside their back door. They usher Sean inside, stuff him full of ice-cold beer, seared steaks and marvelously whipped potatoes, entertain him with stories and laughter until he's wheezing and light-headed with delight. Then they take him to their private stretch of beach, blankets in tow, and they all laze about, watching the stars and passing one of Karl's joints back and forth, silence a comforting cocoon surrounding them.

And when Karl lightly turns his head, meets his lips halfway with a kiss that tastes of pot and compassion, then nudges him to Viggo for another kiss that's just as sharp and sweet, it's the easiest thing in the world for Sean to allow them to push him onto the blanket and take what they're so willingly offering. To offer himself in return – his kisses and body and thankfulness that words aren't needed. He grieves his loss and celebrates his freedom with only the stars and waves bearing witness, with two men who also know a little about regret and life, and blesses whatever fates had brought him here. He may not be one for reflection, but he's also smart enough to know that life is fleeting, and it's best to take what joys come with the bad.


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