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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.

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Title: Flying with Eagles
Author: Zar
Email: squishypiglet@hotmail.co.uk
LJ: 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 my my wishes.
Summary: The ‘little calorie-stuffed crumbles of goodness’ that brought the pair together…

Chapter 4

I’ve been back a few times to the little coffee shop in the mornings and every time, I see the beautiful young man sitting alone at the same table. I wonder what he’s thinking, and why he always gets there so early. Mr Evil-Leopard-Man never arrives till much later.

I am, however, a wimp. Never have I approached him again, or even given him a second glance though I always know he’s there. To tell the truth, I haven’t had the courage to stay in here too long, lest he really believes me to be stalking him. I just linger around the counter and wait for my coffee to appear. I couldn’t possibly sit at a table and not just ogle him.

This morning, he’s wearing a neon pink t-shirt with a French beret. I don’t know where he gets his wardrobe from, but for some reason, at the jaunty angle he’s tilted the hat, it looks stylish in a boyish way what with unruly curls peeking from underneath. Not everyone can pull off a hat like that, but then and again, not everyone is a god.

I can’t believe I’ve started to refer to the boy as ‘god’. But I have yet to learn his name, so…it’s justified, albeit slightly weird. You know what? If I keep calling him that, I am only subconsciously pushing him further out of my league. I should give him an average name…an everyday Johnson. That’s it. I’ll call him Johnson.

So, here I am standing at the counter waiting for my morning dose of caffeine. As you can imagine, I still have not located the nearest supermarket and thus…my fridge at home is still empty. I’ve been ordering takeout in the evenings, then having the leftovers for lunch the next day. But I’ve been coming here all week for my coffee…yes, I am here for the coffee, not to gape at the beautiful god- I mean, Johnson, the beautiful Johnson. Err…not that I was looking at his Johnson or anything, don’t get me wrong…ahh, forget it. Get me wrong. I admit it – I was looking. There are no laws against that!

Johnson is sitting there with a book in his hand at his usual table. A small cup of coffee is gently steaming in front of him. Judging from this past week’s encounters, his god friend isn’t going to arrive for another twenty minutes. It’s a peaceful scene and it makes me long for my camera. There’s a good view here of ‘Paradise’. Perhaps I can get snapshots of him from my apartment…does that count as an invasion of privacy? It’s okay as long as he doesn’t know, right? I’ll risk it. I would love to capture the way the breeze is gently tugging at that one curl right above his left eye.

Watching him from the corner of my eye, I can’t help but sigh dreamily. He’s an absolute cherub…he’s got one hand holding his book upright and the other hand is currently occupied with stirring his drink so he’s blowing air out of the corner of his mouth up at the errant curl. It’s not working and he’s shaking his head now. I love the way he’s trying a double act - wrinkling his nose while glaring cross-eyed at it. I should write a poem about this. It shall be known to all as: The Saga That Is Johnson’s Uncontrollable Curl. I am sure my agent, Beanie, will love it. I can already see the tick he gets above his eye when he’s lost for words. Perfect.

As much as I would love to spend all day looking like I am not staring at him, the waitress Mandy appears with my coffee.

“Here you are, Mr Figo, just the way you like it – drowning in sugar and milk.”

I pick up the styrofoam cup and inhale deeply. Mandy can’t get my name right, but she sure can make me a decent cup of coffee.

“Ahh, Mandy, you’re an angel, you know that?”

The plump waitress simpers prettily.

“You’re such a charmer, Mr Figo. Would you like a blueberry muffin this morning?

I think about it. I have rather a lot of Chinese takeout still sitting at home, so better not…but then and again, my mouth is watering just looking at the little calorie-stuffed crumbles of goodness. Hmm…tough choice. As per usual, I shall defer to those more knowledgeable than myself in the ways of temptation. Oscar Wilde, I will salute you with a muffin.

In defeat, I incline my head at Mandy.

“Oh, Mandy…you tempt me. I have no choice but to yield.”

She looks back at me blankly before hesitantly asking, “So that’s…?”

“…a yes.”

“After all,” a smooth voice adds, “’The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.’ Do you always associate Wilde with muffins?”

Eh? Turning towards the voice, I find myself looking into a pair of liquid brown eyes. Wow. They’re a deep chocolate brown, but when he smiles shyly at me, I see dancing lighter hazel flecks as well – I guess he has “eyes that smile”. His eyes are definitely smiling at me. I try to make my eyes smile back. The way he’s chuckling must mean I am unsuccessful, but it was worth it to hear his amusement.

“Well…no. It’s just the blueberry ones in particular.”

I must have wasted too long just gaping at his eyes because when my comment comes out, it doesn’t make any sense. It did in my head, but he’s looking rather lost at me before offering me his hand.

“I am Orlando.”

Orlando! How could I have not guessed it! What was all that rubbish about him being called Johnson? He’s an Orlando! How could he be anything else? He wouldn’t have an average name like stupid Johnson. I blame it on my poor pre-caffeine muddled brain. Now that I’ve got a little of the kick in me, I can see clearly. He’s so an Orlando. But I am afraid I have to name that one lone curl Johnson though – I’ve grown attached to that name already.

He looks a little confused and is pulling his hand away since I didn’t take it. Why do I keep messing up?? Thrusting my own hand forward, I wrap it around his smaller one.

“Sorry, I am Viggo.”

“Are you sure? I distinctly heard Mandy calling you Figo…which is it?”

He’s grinning wickedly at me and I laugh.

“I am only Figo to the pretty ladies.”

Mandy nudges me with her hip as she hands me a wrapped muffin.

“Naughty Figo! Here’s your muffin.”

I pay her quickly for the muffin and coffee while Orlando (I still can’t get over how amazing his name sounds! Orlando. Or-LAN-do…OR-lan-do…Or-lan-DO…) watches.

“I just wanted to say a quick hello since I’ve seen you here a few times now,” Or-LAN-do says, “and I can see you’re about to leave, so I won’t bother you any longer. Going to get back to my book…”

I had wanted to stay and have the muffin with him, but I am sure there’ll be other days, especially since we’ve officially ‘met’ now.

“Oh, okay…I’ll see you around.”

He looks down for a moment before smiling back at me.

“That’ll be nice.”

“Well…okay then.”

“Okay.”

There’s nothing left to do except leave when all I wanted to do was stay. I give him one last smile before turning to leave. Just as I get to the door, I hear him call me again.

“Wait! Umm, I’ll be here tomorrow morning, about the same time…do you want to…?”

“Ye-yes…I’ll be here.”

I am grinning like an idiot to myself walking out when I hear over my shoulder,

“Great, I’ll see you then…Figo!”

I can hear the laughter in his voice and suddenly, I can’t wait till tomorrow morning. Hmm…I wonder if I’ll scare him off if I bring my camera with me…

TBC…

This is getting so out of control! They weren't supposed to meet each other yet! I had an entire confrontation between Eric and Viggo planned, when Orlando decided to jump up and introduce himself. What are you doing?? Sit back down!

I suppose people are reading this because the there have been quite a few hits, so I can only hope you're enjoying this too. Thank you for reading!
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Flying With Eagles