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Flying With Eagles	By : Zar Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 10191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
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- 18
Title: Flying with Eagles
Author: Zar
Email: squishypiglet@hotmail.co.uk
LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/users/squishypiglet/
Warnings: This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it!
Pairings: Viggorli with special guest Eric Bana.
Disclaimer: This is not true, despite all my wishes.
Summary: The Crutch Against the Door Jamb

Chapter 16

There is merely stunned silence as Orlando’s words hang in the air between us, almost as a palpable thing.

The girls wearing yellow…dancing and laughing in a garden filled with lavender and oranges…

What does this mean? No one has ever been able to ‘see’ what I paint…the closest interpretation had been by a four year-old who went with her mother to a gallery and pronounced in a shrill voice, “scary dark evil things coming!” when she saw the picture I painted during the divorce period.

But this…he can actually see figures and activities and scenery…not just colours and impressions. This has never happened and it leaves me empty somehow...my paintings have always left a special place just for me – only I know truly what I had in my mind as my hand controlled the brush. And that was mine alone.

Now, there is someone who can see into these thoughts…it’s as if he can see into my head, and it’s frightening.

I see them in my mind…whenever I play the piano…

Then it hits me…hard.

I’ve found my piano player, the one to whom I’ve jerked off and even felt an unusual connection. It’s him. He’s the one. Orlando.

“Orlando…”

I mouthed the word but it seemed to reverberate in the stillness and he shakily turns away from the painting again to face me.

“Viggo? How…how did you paint this?”

I gestured to a haphazard box of paints by the easel. I haven’t even unpacked yet. Everytime I came in here, the painting has beckoned to me and I could not do anything else; my studio is the only room of the house still in boxes.

“Vig-Viggo…I need…to sit…”

He looks a little unwell and balancing uneasily on his crutch so I hurry overhis his side and support him.

“Are you okay?”

He leans his head wearily against mine and mumbles. I can’t hear what he is saying, but I assume he is reassuring me and I attempt manoeuvring both of us back to the living room, leaving the useless crutch behind.

My poor god is breathing shallowly and his head is covered with sweat. There is nothing I can do and I am scaring myself. Should I call for a doctor? But he needs me to support him still. Maybe if I shout, someone will hear? I should call Beanie…that’s it, call Beanie.

I lead my precious bundle to the couch and Orlando looks relieved as he lays himself down.

“Do you mind if I nap a little?”

That’s a rather odd question, but I am not going to deny him anything.

“Sleep, Orlando, sleep, whatever you need.”

He smiles tiredly at me, and though he is so pale, I have never seen a more perfect sight than a god smiling so trustingly up at me. I could gawk all day, but I think he needs help.

“Wait first, Orlando…should we call someone? You don’t look well and you’re slightly shaky…”

“No, no…don’t call anyone.”

I don’t believe him. He should get some help. That’s it, I am going to call a doctor – they can laugh at me later and say I over-reacted, but I can’t watch him lie there so uncomfortably, so pale and weak. I move away to find the phone when a slender hand reaches out and catches my wrist.

“No, Viggo. Stay here with me.”

I would love nothing more than to stay, but he is suffering despite his brave front and I pull away.

“Shh, I’ll be back soon. I’ll just make a quick phone call…”

My perfect prince is pushing himself upright to reach his hand out to me pleadingly and my heart breaks. I know what I have to do, but I can’t leave him now. He’s still so tense, I should calm him down first, then call Beanie when he’s asleep.

“I am still here, Johnson…don’t worry…”

I ease myself behind him on the couch and let him lean against me, a gentle smile now on his face. With his back against my chest, I can feel his heart rate slowing down gradually and I assume that’s a good sign.

“Hold me?”

As if I would say no. He appears fragile now, not at all like the sexy young man I couldn’t stop kissing a mere half hour earlier on this same couch. Cradling him, I try humming softly to him and he relaxes a little more. I wish I didn’t have to do this…

“Orlando, who should I call? Should I bring you to a doctor? Or should I call the doctor here? I am sure – “

He’s shaking his head before I am even done.

“No doctors. Nothing. I…just tired. No doctors.”

He cannot be serious.

“Orlando, this can’t be ignored! You could barely support yourself just then!”

“Just shock…” his earnest gaze is piercing through me. Perhaps it is just shock, though I can’t admit defeat just yet. This is his health at risk.

“Maybe just a checkup later then, okay? I am worried about you…”

He finds strength in him to lift his upper body and press his lips to mine.

“Don’t fuss, Viggo. Don’t. And if you really need to call someone…I guess you could call Eric.”

Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t call anyone. Mr Leopard is going to bite my head off for this ‘shocking his boyfriend into shaking and sweating’ thing.

Something must have shown on my face because Orlando smirks knowingly.

“See? Don’t feel like calling anyone anymore, hmm?”

Cheeky boy.

“I am waiting for you to doze first so I can make up lies about how through no fault of mine, you suddenly went weak and wobbly.”

“You’re evil…”

His eyes are drooping again and I tuck his head against my neck. His curls are tickling me, but he’s warm and pliant by my side. I find I like protecting him, my beautiful innocent god. The eyelashes are fluttering but he hangs onto consciousness.

“Viggo? Who…who’s Johnson?”

Hey? How on earth did he know that?

“Johnson? Where’d you hear that from?” The innocent act hasn’t worked very well for me before, but I figure it can’t hurt to try.

“You called me Johnson earlier.” He mumbles sleepily.

I did? Oh…

“You…you look like a Johnson,” I finish lamely. I am not going to tell him I named his curl Johnson, because he’ll be legging it out of here. I’ll save some of my eccentricities till we know each other better and it’s too late for him to leave. Hehe…good plan.

There is a hint of regret in his voice when he next speaks.

“I am sorry about earlier…before the painting. How we were heading to your bedroom…”

“Hush, let’s not talk about that now. Rest.”

We were rushing a little, but I just find myself craving for him so badly when he’s near. He’s so young, I really shouldn’t be pushing him for sex, it just emphasises that I am the pervy horny old man again.

“It’s just…”

His eyes are shut now and his head slowly slumps to a side. My god is almost asleep.

“Just what?” I can’t help asking, sure he won’t answer.

“I can’t…can’t have sex.”

What? What is he talking about? I am looking confused at him but he is truly slumbering this time. It is only when I sigh and look back in the direction of my studio that I notice the abandoned crutch leaning against the door jamb.

Oh my god…his injury. I have asked him once about it over dinner, but he was so anxious and uncomfortable, I changed the subject immediately.

Is that what he means? Is he…incapable of having sex? Was that why he wanted to have that “talk” earlier on before we went to my room?

I am so thick. All the clues were there but I missed them. No wonder Exene and I didn’t work out.

I have my god, but my life is still a mess. There is only one thing I need to do now. Call Mr Evil Leopard-man and tell him what I’ve done to his baby.

Hmm…maybe I’ll just stay here with my angel wrapped around me for another five minutes.

Just five minutes.

Or maybe longer…

TBC...
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Flying With Eagles