Title: "Waking Dream" Pairing: Sean Bean/Viggo Mortensen Rating: PG Summary: Sean might still be asleep, but that doesn't mean Viggo's not really there. Disclaimer: Never happened. Notes: For B & E, for their birthdays. Six in the bloody morning, and some crazy bastard was knocking on Sean's front door. Which meant, unless it was an emergency involving a life-threatening something or another (highly doubtful, considering someone would have called first), whoever was banging away was a dead man the second Sean got his hands on them. He stopped only long enough to throw on a pair of pajama pants (he didn't plan on being vertical long enough to need a shirt), and wrenched the door open with a muffled curse and a smothered yawn. And promptly stopped in his tracks, planned verbal abuse dying on his tongue at the sight of the person standing on his front step. "I'm still asleep." Viggo lounged against the pillar, tilted his battered hat back from his forehead. His jeans and shirt looked wrinkled beyond hope. His eyes crinkled with wary amusement. "No, I don't think you are." "I must be." Sean pinched the side of his arm, just to be sure. Viggo didn't disappear or turn into a pink elephant or anything else a dream should do. "You're here on my doorstep," he added, just in case that wasn't precisely clear. Viggo shrugged again. Dug his hands into his pockets in a gesture that Sean immediately recognized (remembered, and he'd thought he'd forgotten everything) as nerves. Viggo nervous. There was a thought. "That's not so fantastical, is it?" "The hell it's not," Sean frowned. "Four years ago..." "Four years ago I said a lot of stupid things," Viggo interrupted, and in his voice, Sean heard – or thought he heard – remorse. He was definitely still asleep. "So, what happened?" he asked, because, even if this was only a dream, he was curious. He refused to read more into it than that. "You did." "Beg pardon?" "You didn't call on my birthday." Viggo's birthday had been last month. Sean didn't bother to point that out. Even a dream!Viggo should be aware of the date of his birth, after all. "And?" "And, you always called." "You never answered," Sean pointed out. Tamped down on the hope, because he was not opening himself up like that again. Not without a lot more than what he was getting. "I'm answering now," Viggo said softly, gaze serious, penetrating, and maybe Sean was the biggest cock up on the planet, but he didn't have it in him to say no. Still, he said nothing, just held open the door. Waited for Viggo to step inside, and glanced down at the simple, small overnight bag Viggo carried in with him. "Not planning on staying long, I take it." He cursed himself for feeling disappointment. "No, I just didn't want to waste time packing," Viggo replied. "I figured I'd shop while I was here." "Why?" Viggo seemed to take that as some sort of invitation, because he stepped closer. Close enough that Sean could smell the mixture of turpentine and those godawful Turkish cigarettes Viggo was so fond of smoking. "I told you already," Viggo said, the words a verbal caress that Sean, God help him, was helpless to resist. But then, he'd been waiting for this day a long time. Even if it was still a dream. "Tell me again," he demanded, because he thought he deserved that much, at least. Viggo didn't even hesitate. "I miss you." "And?" "And I was a fool." "And?" Viggo took the next step, returned Sean's small smile with a crooked one of his own. "And if you let me stay, I promise not to water the plants." "Deal," Sean said, and took the last step. Their lips met, the kiss soft and brief. "Think we could start again?" Viggo murmured. His hand was a warm imprint on Sean's bare hip. "I think we already have." If you enjoyed this fic, please leave feedback here. Thanks!