Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

London Skies	By : SarBrook Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2747 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
- 3
DISCLAIMER : Okay, so, I don’t own, know, or have any affiliation with Orlando Bloom or Rent. I do, however, own Sierra, Ricky, Will, Alexis, and any person I name who was not actually in Rent. This is mostly for my entertainment, but I hope you will enjoy. And if my portrayal of the “real” English is incorrect, please feel free to tell me. I speak “real” English pretty fluently—I’m an American with a British obsession—so hopefully I use the right words.

Chapter Two
Before Orlando was done loading her belongings into the bedroom—all five suitcases—Sierra had opened her journal and began adding items to her already long list of things to do. As her stomach grumbled, she added “groceries” to the top if the list. She could easily buy paper ware in lieu of dishes. Jet lag already started to settle in, but she would not allow herself to go to bed until at least 8pm. She glanced at her watch. It was not even eleven in the morning.
She needed a latte. Bad.
Orlando stood behind her, arms crossed again. She wondered why a celebrity would be so nice to her. Granted, Sierra was not a dog. In fact, she thought she was quite pretty: long brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a rosy complexion. Her figure was womanly, curvy, not at all like two-by-four models with no personality. Still, she was confused.
“Do you need anything?” Orlando asked suddenly.
She sighed, and turned to him. “You’re nice,” she started. “And I appreciate the offer, but I want to do this myself. That’s the point of coming here.”
Orlando’s brow furrowed. “All right,” he conceded. “But I know you need food.”
Sierra’s mind began turning. She recollected something Will had once said at movie night, when the gang watched The Two Towers. It hit her suddenly. How could she forget? The jet lag must be worse than she thought.
“Will said something, didn’t he?” she asked.
“Well,” Orlando said slowly. “My cousin did mention you were moving in. But someone else called in a favor. Some guy named Ricky?”
Sierra grunted, banging her head against the table. Of course. Leave it to Ricky Lopez, her best friend, ex-roommate, and ex-business partner, to call Will’s cousin, Orlando Bloom, who just happened to live next door to her new home. She had a feeling she was in the middle of some scheme. Ricky liked schemes. Ever since they met during the US national tour of Rent, where Ricky played Angel and Sierra went from being an understudy to lead, they had been inseparable. Of course, she had also been inseparable from a certain actor, but she pushed that man out of her mind.
“He just could not leave well enough alone,” she muttered. Drawing in a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face. “Ricky may mean well, but he’s not my father. I really need to do this. Alone,” she hesitated slightly. “And if you’re just being nice to me because people told you to, you might as well leave.”
Orlando’s eyebrows rose. A genuine smile stretched his lips, making his eyes sparkle. “Well, then,” he said, completely delighted. “You’re a little cheeky, aren’t you?” He deadpanned. “Seriously, love, it would not be a problem. I’m taking a slight…sabbatical, as it were, and I have little to do. I also am in need of groceries. Since we’re both going to the same place…”
Sierra stood, biting her lip gently. “Thank you, but I feel like being stubborn.” This made him laugh. “And I have lists upon lists and maps upon maps of every place in London. Maybe some other time?” Wow. She was saying no to Orlando Bloom. She wondered if any straight female or gay male ever said no to him.
Orlando smiled. “As you wish, love,” he pulled her into a hug. She blinked, unable to return it because…well, Orlando Bloom was hugging her. As much as she tried to convince herself that he was just her nice, attractive neighbor, part of her still saw swords, tights, and the breathy word “Elizabeth.” He pulled back before she could react. His smiled made her want to melt. His real life smile was much more knee weakening than his onscreen acting smiles—which is an amazing feat, because those ones made her drool as well. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” he said.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As he walked to her door, part of her wanted to stop him. The prospect of being completely alone for this endeavor was almost too much to handle. But she did nothing, convincing herself this was something she wanted. She wanted the freedom to do whatever she wanted.
He left her to fend for herself.
~~***~~
Sierra stumbled into her flat, nearly dropping the bags she held. Earlier that day, she had found herself a Boots, bought a lunch, and ate it in a small park, people watching. She then proceeded to the bank. Too many hours later, she walked out of the bank with an account filled with half the money she actually had; the exchange rate from dollars to pounds was astounding. After that, she went to a furniture store to price a few items. Then to a hardware store, where an old man with a very thick cockney accent tried to help her, though they had many communication problems. She had a color scheme in mind, but she waited, buying only a basic tool set and some new hinges that did not need WD40, unlike the ones presently in her kitchen.
After dropping that off at the flat, she ventured once again for a grocery store. On the way, she found a souvenir shop. She splurged on a mug with a Beefeater on it. She found a small, independently owned grocery store right on her street. It sold only organic food. Happily, she bought enough for the week, including some disposable plates, cutlery, and cups. She decided to go home, as it was almost 6pm and her stomach cried for food.
So she went home, nearly half asleep. She almost fell into her kitchen, not bothering to shut the door before she dumped her packages onto the table. She paused to breathe.
“You know,” a familiar voice said. “If you make a habit of leaving your door open, you will be robbed.”
Sierra smiled tiredly. She turned to Orlando. He stood in the hallway, cheeks flushed from the chill outdoors. He wore a hooded sweatshirt under a leather jacket. For some reason, in her current near dead state, this amused her to no end. She suppressed the giggles.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, putting her hand on her doorknob. He unlocked his own apartment, opened the door, but did not go inside. They stood awkwardly for a moment.
“I wanted to thank you,” he said suddenly. “For not acting like a mad fan when we ran into each other.”
She snorted. “Who even said I was a fan?” she quipped. “Just cause I know who you are, Orlando Bloom, does not mean I care.”
He laughed openly. “Truth. Still, it means a lot these days.”
She looked at him for a moment. He looked tired. Not tired like she was, but rather worn. There were circles under his eyes. His skin was kind of sallow. It was in that moment, where he looked so incredibably human, that she separated Orlando Bloom the actor from the man in front of her. There was a desperation for normality in his eyes. She pitied him in a way. So, she decided to treat him like she would any neighbor.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bloomers,” here he laughed, “I gonna attempt to fix myself something to eat before I completely black out.”
He looked concerned. “Jet lag that bad, yeah?”
She rolled her eyes. “Naw. I just took about five sleeping pills cause I think it’s fun,” the easy sarcasm rolled off her lips. As much as she craved independence, she enjoyed her new friend. Amazing how comfortable she already felt.
“Pity,” he said. “Because I was going to ask you in for tea.” He wiggled his eyebrows invitingly.
She yawned. “Some other time.” She began closing the door, just to make her point.
He smiled brightly. “I’ll count on it, Sandy.”
She blinked. “My name is Sierra.”
He smiled knowingly. “I know. But if you call me Bloomers, I call you Sandy.”
She shook her head. “Where did that come from?”
“Well, Sierra is the name of a desert,” he explained. “A desert has sand.”
She groaned. “That’s a bad pun.”
“So’s Bloomers,” he retorted.
“Touche,” she said. “Bye, Bloomers.”
“Bye, Sandy.”
She closed the door, staring glumly at the pile of groceries. With a combination yawn-sigh, she waveringly began putting things away.
She was just sitting down to a salad when the phone rang. She jumped, not expecting to be called…oh, ever. She searched for the ancient roll-dial telephone, which sat on a small lace covered table next to the kitchen. She made a note to buy a new phone.
“Hello?” she said into the receiver.
“SEE-REE!!” a voice squealed. Sierra jerked the phone away from her ear. “I miss you!”
She sighed. “Ricky, if you don’t bring it down an octave, I will hang up. And how did you get my number?”
Ricky mocked gasped. “Sierra Collins, you know I will always find you!”
She snorted. “Romantic. Where’s Phil?”
“Who?” Ricky said. “Oh. Him. It didn’t work out.”
“Man slut,” she teased.
Ricky laughed. “Guilty! Have you settled in okay?”
Sierra said, “Yeah. And thank Will for telling me that his cousin lived next door.”
“Oh my god, you met him? What’s he like? Is he as hot in person as he is in the movies?”
She smiled. “Better. But he’s really nice, even though SOMEONE told him to look after me.”
Ricky became serious. “I just want you to be safe, Mo,” he said, using the nick name he gave her when she became Maureen in Rent. “You’re my best friend. I swear, if you have a penis, I would so marry you.”
She laughed at this. “Well, if you liked vagina, I’d make you marry me.”
They talked a bit more, him asking her about the flight and such. When she looked at the clock, it was past seven. She groaned, realizing he must be racking up a fortune in long distance. She also did not think she would make it to eight o’clock before passing out. She made this known to Ricky.
“Oh yeah, it’s wicked late there, isn’t it?” he said.
“Not really. I just feel like I haven’t slept for two days. Which, well, is close to the truth.”
“I should get to work, anyway,” he admitted. “I miss you, Mo.”
She smiled, tired. “I miss you, Angie.”
“Sleep tight. Call whenever you want. I don’t care what time it is, hon.”
“I will,” she promised. “Now get to work.”
“Fine. Bye, Mo.”
She whispered, “Bye.” Hanging up, she wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked around the flat and never felt so alone in her life.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

London Skies