"Fuck me, mate, I can't believe they talked you into going on that hike without a guide," Orlando said, after taking his own deep drag. "Karl must've promised something way outside the norm." "It were a good night, let's leave it there," Sean grinned, and rubbed at the bristles of his beard. He had the whitest teeth Orlando had ever seen. "Say no more. It's good you two have a, um, healthy sex life." "I almost believe you mean that." "I do mean it. I'd just, uh, rather not know the, y'know, pertinent details." "I think the word you want is prurient." Sean's voice was even raspier than normal from the pot. "That, too." "Speaking of," Sean dipped his head, studied Orlando out of cool, green eyes. "How's your hunt going?" "Horribly." Orlando dropped his head. "I had no idea finding a short-term girlfriend could be such a problem." Eight bazillion bad and semi-bad dates later, and he was still no closer to finding that elusive someone that Viggo assured him would get him through the next year or however long was left of shooting. Deirdre had been fantastic in the sack (Orlando had very fond memories of her enthusiasm), but had been so unbearably stupid that Orlando hadn't been able to hack it after a few dates. Natalie had been altogether the chattiest woman he had ever met. And had been creepily obsessed with her three toy-poodles. Orlando was all about the animal love, but he drew the line at hiring a pet sitter for an hour-long dinner, and calling to check up on said animals every fifteen minutes. He didn't want to contemplate trying to vie for her attention with the dogs, especially since he had a sneaking suspicion he'd lose. Carol'd been entertaining and witty beyond belief, but had confessed over the course of their date that she thought she might be a lesbian. Orlando had listened sympathetically to her plight, but had privately wondered if she'd taken one look at him and sworn off cock forever. It had been that sort of week. "Could be you're looking in the wrong place," Sean said, interrupting Orlando's thoughts. "Yeah," Orlando replied slowly, giving the advice the weight it deserved. "You're probably right. God knows, I've got to stop letting Craig set me up. You got any ideas?" "No, sorry." Sean spread his hands wide, the motion tightening his shirt across a thickly muscled chest. All of that running around and sword-wielding was paying off in spades, apparently. They were all getting more fit, but Sean was approaching ridiculous levels. "I think you've met all of my lady friends. Karl's, too, for that matter." Which was another problem, as most of the women that Karl and Sean had introduced him to were panting after either one or both of them, and not at all interested in giving Orlando the time of day. It was slightly depressing. Then again, if given a choice, Orlando knew he'd have picked Karl or Sean over himself as well. "Back to the drawing board, then," he said aloud, and reached for the joint, his fingers brushing Sean's. "Gonna be a long shoot." "You don't have to do this, you know." "I know, you keep saying. I just...I want something, y'know? Like what you and Karl have or like what Viggo's got with Priscilla." Sean's look was skeptical, at best. "I don't think that's what you really want." "Maybe. Maybe I do want more than friends with benefits. But I'm hardly likely to get it now, am I?" "You're never too old to have the relationship you deserve," Sean said softly and, in his voice, Orlando heard way too much regret. "Yeah? You really believe that?" It sounded like a great dream, but the reality of Orlando's life so far would suggest different. "Aye, I do. Explains the marriages, I guess," Sean shrugged, the motion self-deprecating. Orlando knocked his fist against Sean's knee. "Hey, now, as you're always telling me, it takes two to mamba or foxtrot or whatever. Maybe you weren't meant to be with them, but no one can fault you for trying." An indefinable emotion flittered across Sean's face, but it was gone too fast for Orlando to try and discern it. "You're a good man, Orlando," Sean said. "Far better than I was at your age." Orlando always forgot how contemplative Sean got while he was stoned. Time to lighten the mood. "I have no idea what you're on about. I still dream about growing up to be like you." Sean chuckled, and the sound warmed Orlando deep inside. He hated it when Sean talked about his mistakes as if they were failures to overcome instead of opportunities to learn from. "Besides," he continued, "I'm still hoping to learn all of your acting techniques so I can steal the role of Sharpe from you." "You could play him." Sean made a point of looking Orlando up and down. "You've got the physicality for it." "Yeah?' Orlando couldn't help the grin at the compliment. "It'd be lovely to get a chance to play parts like that." "You'll get it," Sean assured him, his voice a hiss from the smoke. "This thing...it's gonna be huge." "If it's not, it won't be for lack of trying." Orlando could feel the pot working its magic, slowing everything down. Just what he needed. "I mean, I know it's my first real film and all, but I never imagined anything like, uh, y'know, this. I mean, the level and detail, y'know..." "Beyond anything I've been a part of," Sean agreed. His words were also slowing. Either that, or Orlando's hearing was. "And you were, man, today, you were..." Orlando searched for the right word. "...Amazing," he finished, lamely. "Ah, well, Elijah made it easy, didn't he? He's a real pro, that one." For all that everyone babied the hell out of Lij, they were all, to a man, proud as hell of him. "He's really carrying. Astin says he's constantly reading over the books between takes." "If Peter can pull this off, it'll be one for the ages." "You..." Orlando leaned in, almost embarrassed that he was even thinking this. "You think we'll still be like this? I mean, down the line?" Gentle fingers ruffled Orlando's hair, the gesture comforting. "I think we'll always be friends," Sean replied softly, his gaze warm and open. "Whether we see each other as often as we'd like, well, that's the future. And who knows," he added, with a quick wink, "maybe Peter'll do 'The Hobbit' next and we can all throw a reunion party." If Orlando's answering smile was a little watery, he could always blame it on being stoned. "As long as Karl's catering." "And Bernard brings the alcohol," Sean added. "And Viggo doesn't sing," they said together, and laughed, the sound carrying in the slight breeze. *** "What's on the agenda for tonight?" Dom asked, humming along to 'Strength' by The Alarm as Mary fussed over him, and worked on applying his ears. Dom had a massive weakness for Irish anthem rock, which meant that Elijah was forever referring to him as Dumbo Bono, which made absolutely no sense, even after Elijah'd explained it. ("On account of Dom's ears, right, and, see, U2's, like, an Irish rock band, so...oh, never mind.") Americans and their humor. If Orlando lived to be a hundred, he'd never get it. "Dunno," Orlando replied. "Sean mentioned popping 'round for dinner with him and Karl and maybe the game..." "Sean again." Dom's long-suffering sigh was worthy of awards. "Honestly, Orlando, if you were a bird, you'd be one of his harem." "Aren't you a card." "Seriously, mate. Keep some different company. I know he's the Great Sean Bean and all, but me and Bils haven't seen you in ages." "You see me every day." "Or-lan-do..." "Alright, alright, I'm in." Anything to get Dom to stop whinging at him. "Good." "But, if we're doing dinner, we can't go back to that one place with the dodgy curry." Just so it was clear. Worst meal he'd ever had. "Of course not. Lij is sick of them, anyway. We're trying out someplace new," Dom explained, with an airy wave of his hands. "Even Astin's on board for blowing off some steam tonight, and you know how rare that is. It'll be a proper Hobbit party." Orlando grunted in disbelief. "I'm surprised he's agreed to be seen in public with you again after that unbearably mental girl chased him into that tree like that." "I wasn't the only one laughing," Dom protested. "No," Orlando conceded, "but you were the one who pissed on his shoe later on that night." "It was an accident." "All the same," Orlando said, and closed his eyes so Beth could make his eyes look more ethereal and Elf-like, "maybe you should ease up on the mango shots tonight, yeah?" "Yeah, alright." Dom didn't sound too thrilled about it. "But if I do, then we have to go dancing. You remember dancing?" "I remember that you can't," Orlando joked, and opened his eyes in time to duck out of the way when Dom threw a makeup towel at his head. *** When Sean stepped through Viggo's back gate, he wasn't surprised at all to see that Viggo was on his porch, despite the insane hour. Bloody man kept later hours than a club. Tonight, Viggo was experimenting with color techniques, it looked like – although the painting (if it could be called that) was more an exercise in slap-dash and something like his daughter Molly would create rather than the Pollack-esque technique Viggo was undoubtedly going for. Provided Viggo even had a technique at all and wasn't simply slapping paint on a canvas because he'd run out of furniture to torture. "Little late for you," Viggo commented, as he removed a thin paintbrush from between his teeth. His feet were bare and also covered in paint flecks, as were his jeans and t-shirt. "You've got an earlier wakeup call than I do," Sean countered, and stopped when he got to the canvas. He studied it for a moment, rocking back on his heels, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "I sincerely hope you're not planning on trying to sell this." Viggo's grin was dimpled and a little evil. "It's for Peter's office." "New prank, then?" Viggo just grinned, and went back to flinging putrid orange at the print. "There's beer in the fridge." Sean took the hint, and brought out two when he came back out to the porch. He set one on the small table by Viggo (hoping he wouldn't use it to clean his brushes, simply because that would be a waste of perfectly good alcohol) and took the nearest chair. "Karl kick you out of bed?" Viggo asked, without turning. Sean was happy to see he actually picked up his bottle to drink from it. "He left about an hour ago. Silly bugger seems to think I'd keep him up if he stayed, and he's got a 5 A.M. call." "I wonder why he'd think that." "I was put out at the thought I'm a bad influence, I'll admit," Sean replied, and watched Viggo for a long while, enjoying the night and the company. In spite of all of Viggo's admitted eccentricities, there was an eerie calm center about him that made it easy to do nothing more than sit around him while doing nothing and feel at peace. "Can I ask you something?" Viggo shrugged and turned, taking another sip of his beer. "When has my permission or lack thereof ever stopped you?" Sean chuffed out a small laugh, then sobered. "What...what do you think about Orlando?" "In general, or is there something specific?" Sean peered up, squinting a little from the porch lights. "Karl has this mad idea that I'd be good for him." Ever since Karl had mentioned it, Sean had found himself thinking about it at the oddest times. If this was simply one of Karl's pranks, it was a masterpiece. Viggo, however, seemed to take it seriously. "I think Karl could be on to something," he drawled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Clearly, Sean was smoking a different strand of pot than Viggo and Karl. "You both do realize he's not bisexual?" "So?" Viggo shrugged. "I'm not bisexual and I'd do you." Sean opened his mouth to reply, then thought the better of it. He really didn't want to know. Or to contemplate the idea further. "As I was saying, both of you are daft as trees. I don't feel that way about him." "Not surprised," Viggo said, and idly picked up a bowl that held what looked like newspaper clippings. Without even looking at the painting, he started tossing them onto it. "Considering who's warming your bed, I'd be surprised if you'd so much as looked at anyone else." "Precisely." And Sean was quite happy with his current arrangement, thank you. "But you and Orlando have a connection," Viggo continued, as if Sean had never spoken. "However you pursue that...well, I'd say that's between the two of you." Sean groaned, and dropped his head in his hands. "I should've known better than to come to you for advice." He could practically hear Viggo's grin. "Hell, Sean, if you wanted coherence, you should've gone to Bernard. What do you think?" Reluctantly, Sean lifted his head and looked at the canvas. "I think it's hideous." Viggo beamed at him like Sean had said he'd just won the lotto. "Perfect." "I'd blame your insanity on the island, but I think you were like this to begin with." "We've all got to start somewhere," Viggo agreed, amiably. Indeed, Sean thought, and went back to nursing his beer in silence. Onto Part Twelve
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