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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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Title: Flying with Eagles
Author: Zar
Email: zarakan@hotmail.com
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: Orlando is late, Viggo watches seals and old acquaintances meet again...

Treasure this one, mes amis! It's the longest chapter I've ever written, at a colossal 2200 words. You all deserve it though, I haven't psted in four days since I had my last day of work two days ago. I'll have slightly more time now, so maybe longer chapts more often? *whistling* Hehe...

Cerasi has written an amazing poem based on the painting Viggo did while listening to Orli on the piano. It's here: http://www.teenopendiary.com/entryview.asp?authorcode=B796964&entry=10043 Read it and give her wonderful reviews, she deserves them!!

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 23

We’ve had about three days of bliss and I couldn’t be happier, although I still worry a bit about Orlando’s confidence. There are just little things he does sometimes that tear at my heart – they way his arms would linger around me when we hugged good bye, as if he were reluctant to let go, or the way he liked to stay plastered close to me at all times whenever we were together, even if all I wanted was to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

It was while I was mixing colours for a new painting that it suddenly penetrated my thick skull.

I had hit on the perfect idea to bring my god out of his shell.

Dropping my palette on the floor beside my easel, I went over to the phone.

There is a phone call I need to make, and I know just the right person.

~~~

“…so I shouldn’t wear jeans, right Viggo?”

I shake my head and try to concentrate on the voice rambling on the phone.

“Umm…you can wear jeans.”

“But you told me this is a classy place!”

“So wear classy jeans,” I tease.

It doesn’t get me the laugh I was hoping for.

“You’re not helping. I’ll have to dig around some more in my closet.”

“Okay…and don’t worry so much.”

“I am not worrying.”

Of course he’s not.

“All right, I’ll see you in half an hour then.”

“Half an ho- I only have half an hour left??”

“Well, muffin, you’ve been blabbing on the phone with an old man for about twenty minutes now.”

“That’s not enough time! I still need a shower!”

Oh my god.

“You don’t need a shower. I am sure you smell fine.”

Wrong joke again.

“Viggo!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. You do need a shower.”

“VIGGO!”

You really can’t win sometimes.

I hang up the phone with my god only to sit back to watch television. How some people can sit around and watch this all day is beyond me. There is nothing I would love more than to dabble a bit more with my paints, but if I dare get near my studio, Beanie will slaughter me alive. He already hates the fact that I smell like oil paints all the time, but at least I’ve scrubbed the paint off of my hands. Hey, I made an effort! He should appreciate that. After all, nobody but Orlando is perfect. I know I am not.

The television is currently showing some program with seals on it. They’re quite cute, all fat and rolling around in groups. I like the look of the grey one with big round dark eyes – similar to the eyes my god has. So sweet and innocent-looking. Makes me want to buy one to cuddle though they wouldn’t make such nice pets if they only ate fish and needed the aircon at -20 degrees. Nice thought though.

I am still smiling goofily at the podgy seal sliding himself across the ice when a huge polar bear abruptly stalks over and bites off his head, then swallows him whole. My god, so much violence on tv nowadays. I should monitor what Henry watches late Saturday nights.

Feeling slightly nauseous, I click off the television. Bleugh. That was not the thing to watch right before dinner.

The phone is ringing again and with a sigh, I reach over and answer it.

“Hello?”

“Viggo! It’s wrinkled! I can’t wear it now! It’s all creased – ”

“Orlando?”

What is he going on about now?

“My shirt! The pink shirt I was going to wear!”

Pink? Is he serious? He’s planning on wearing a pink shirt?

“Well…” the simplest answer would be to choose another shirt, ideally, one that is not pink, but I think that’s out of the question so I tentatively suggest, “iron it, I suppose?”

“I don’t know how to iron! And Eric’s not around to help!”

He can’t keep panicking like this.

“Orlando.”

He’s ignoring me, still chattering on about his shirt, so I speak louder in an attempt to be heard.

“Orlando. Listen to me. Beanie is going to be here in about ten minutes. No, no,” I push on when I hear objections, “just choose another shirt. You’ll be fine. You’ll look amazing regardless of what you wear and you’ll stun him senseless.”

There is a small pause before a voice quietly asks, “aren’t I going to stun you too?”

I laugh and shake my head. This boy is going to be the death of me.

“Orlando, you always stun me. You’re gorgeous. You know that. Stop digging for compliments and get dressed!”

“Yes sir!”

Then the phone is dead again. Good. Maybe now I can get back to watching polar bears chew up baby seals.

~~~

My doorbell rings fifteen minutes later and the door swings open to reveal a god dressed up in an outfit that can only be described as ‘dropdead sexy’.

Smart dark pants to elongate those legs and a light blue dress shirt to accentuate his more-than magnificent form. I am not very good at clothes but his shirt looks expensive, and made of some kind of exotic fabric. It catches my attention and I raise a hand to stroke it, inadvertently stroking his chest in the process. Nope, totally didn’t mean to do that. Yeah right, Viggo.

It’s so soft to touch but more surprisingly, it feels warm.

“Your shirt is warm.”

That shocks a bark of laughter from my god.

“You’re so silly, Viggo. How can it be warm? It’s just a silk shirt.”

I caress the fabric again.

“No, it’s not. I’ve felt silk shirts, and this is not it. This is amazing, it’s like warm melted butter or something.”

“Maybe the heat is coming from me then.”

We stop and stare at each other for a moment, me just drinking in the sight of him. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but he’s got a sort of black hat on his head. It should look absurd. Stupid. Ridiculous. But instead, perched on his beautiful crown of brown, it looks perfect. Subtle, understated and fashionable.

“Viggo?”

I nod dreamily. My hand wouldn’t mind staying here forever on that firm chest. I wonder if he would mind. Probably.

“Viggo…can I come in?”

Thick. I am so thick. What am I thinking? The door is still open and my perfect prince is still standing patiently on my doorstep with an old man attached to his chest.

“I am so sorry! Come in, come in. I just couldn’t help staring at you. You’ve got the whole ‘stun them senseless’ thing down pat.”

He’s laughing as I lead him into the living room.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“We have time for a drink? I thought your friend would be here by six-thirty. It’s already nearing forty-five!”

I can’t help but blush.

“Beanie’s coming at seven.”

“Then why…?”

The look of confusion on his face is priceless.

“Umm…I told you to meet me earlier…since I had a feeling you might…need a little time getting ready.”

He’s going to kill me. But I swear, it worked! Look, now we have enough time for one drink and a prep talk before he goes straight into dinner with Mr-I-am-so-Manly-Sean-Bean. I used to do it with Exene all the time, after one too many late dinners. You’ve got to give me credit, I do learn and adapt.

“You think I am a girl.”

A girl would not have muscles like that, muffin, trust me.

“But Orlando, look! Now you look absolutely fantastic. And, we have extra time just for the two of us…so it was a good ideght?ght?”

I only receive a roll of his eyes, but he kisses my cheek anyway.

“You’ve seen through me already, Viggo. I am always late. And yes, a drink would be nice.”

He follows me through to the kitchen and I can’t seem to take my eyes off of him as he pushes off his crutch to sit onto the counter.

“Probably something strong, hmm?” I mutter to myself as I go through my selection. He’s going to need something for his nerves.

“I am not nervous!” Orlando exclaims indignantly from behind me.

“What?”

“I don’t need anything for my nerves. I am fine.”

Damn, I hate when I think out loud.

“I meant for me. My nerves.”

He’s looking at me suspiciously, but doesn’t comment.

Great, wine it is. Probably a glass of white, since I read somewhere that you should never drink red on a date. It stains your teeth, and it’s awkward as anything trying to subtly get rid of it.

Grabbing two glasses, I bring them over to where my prince is now kicking his heels gently against the counter. Not nervous? He’s vibrating with tension. Better get the alcohol in him quickly then.

I fill the first glass, but as I raise the lip of the bottle to the second, a slender hand gently but firmly holds onto my wrist.

“I want it in the teddy mug.”

He’s kidding, right?

“Orlando, you can’t drink wine in a mug!”

“Why not? We’re doing the dinner your way, complete with ‘classy shirt’, but we can do the pre-dinner drink my way. Teddy mug it is.”

Cheeky boy.

I fill the mug for him and it is hard resisting a laugh when we gently clink the glass and mug together. He will never cease to amaze me, my prince with the twisted sense of humour.

We’ve only had one drink when my god pulls me over to stand between his legs from his perch.

“As it’s still not dinner yet, I am still in charge, and I think I want…this.”

He leans over me and cradling my face in his hands chilled from the mug, drinks softly from my mouth. He tastes spicy like the wine, but there is an underlying sweetness to the kiss, a sweetne hav have now identified simply as ‘Orlando’. It is enticing the way he is above me and I have to turn my face up to meet his. On flat ground, I am slightly taller than him, especially if he’s on his crutch, and this new position is exciting though I try to hide my growing erection from him. We haven’t yet had that talk about his impotency, and this is not the time to bring it up. I relax and open up a little more for him though, earning a gentle moan and a purr. It’s enough to drive any man to insanity, that thing he’s doing with his tongue.

This is the way I had hoped our evening would progress. This assertive and confident Orlando who would take what he needed when he needed it from me.

We stay in our lip-locked position for what seems like an eternity before the doorbell rings again. Ahh, finally, Beanie is here.

I have to help Orlando down from his precarious seat as jumping down would hurt his leg, but when he lands neatly into my arms, I can’t resist kissing him again. He is so irresistible, and I hate that he knows it, judging by the smirk on his face as I reluctantly release him.

“Doorbell,” he mumbles.

“Later,” I mutter back.

It is only after the third ring that I give up and let go of my god and step back, moving his crutch closer to him.

“Be right back.”

He smiles at me, tucking his crutch properly under his arm. Have to get the stupid door. Damn Beanie and his terrible sense of timing!

I stalk over and throw the door open to see a pissed off Beanie leaning against the door jamb, one finger still on the bell, pressing it insistently.

“What took so long?” he demands, strolling in but one look at my face stops him. “I should have known, you pervy old man. Nothing we can do about your bruised mouth, but this…”

He steps closer to me and tries in vain to fix my collar and dishevelled hair.

“Viggo, Viggo, Viggo, what are we going to do with you? And where is the beautiful boy who inspires the amazing paintings…and long rambling phone calls about ‘perfection’ from a certain eccentric artist. I must admit I am eager to meet this boy.”

“Wait a second first.”

I pull Beanie back into the relatively dimness of the hall. “You must not mention Henry or Exene.”

That signature Beanie-eyebrow-move is performed on cue.

“Why not?”

“I haven’t told him about my divorce yet. There hasn’t been an appropriate time, and I don’t want to scare him off. It’s still too early in the relationship.”

He looks sceptical but nods resignedly.

“Fine fine, we’ll do it your way. But where is he?”

“Orlando?” I call, leading Beanie back in again.

“His name is Orlando?”

For some reason, Beanie looks surprised to hear my god’s name, and two seconds later, I find out why.

“Sean??”

I turn towards the kitchen entrance to see my prince standing spellbound there, gaping in surprise at my agent. What is happening?

“Orli!”

The next thing I know, Sean is all over with Orlando and has wrapped him in a massive hug, one which I note, Orlando is happily returning.

Well, this is a new twist. Huh.

Beanie never told me about this.

Neither did Orlando for that matter.

Dinner is certainly going to be interesting.

TBC...

What do you think is going on? How do they know each other? *Skips off* Hehe..
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Flying With Eagles