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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
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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.
Daimeaimer: This is not true, despite all my wishes.
Summary: First dates really are awkward…or are they?

This is dedicated to the wonderful honey who first read my story on Mirrormere, but then found their sweet way to my LJ to read more...then wrote an absolutely ego-restoring and encouraging review.

This is for her...she knows who she is. *Cuddle* Thank you...

Chapter 41

It’s odd thinking back to our ride over to the restaurant. We had taken my baby, Tooters, and she doesn’t really ‘go’ with the rather formal look we were after.

I still wonder what the valet had thought, seeing an old beat up truck pull up, and me sticking my head out of the window asking for directions to the carpark, since I outright refto lto let anyone else drive my baby. I had been doing that since Tooters was new, and therefore thought nothing of the raised-eyebrow expression on the valet’s face, but I did feel a little twinge when I saw the wince Orlando tried to hide.

I think I embarrassed him. Crap.

Maybe I should have just let the damn valet take over, in his neatly pressed uniform. But…Tooters has never been driven by anyone else, and it’s not going to start now.

Well, despite the great start to our ‘first date’ back at the apartment, we get to the restaurant with an uncomfortable Orlando and anxious-to-do-better me. I think those were the initial signs that things weren’t planning to go well this evening.

You would think that having been ‘together’ for a few months now, going out for dinner wouldn’t be this stressful…I suppose my god had hit the nail right on the head when he had said that I was supposed to be nervous on first dates.

Things didn’t improve much when we were seated. It’s an intimate Japanese restaurant – you know the type, dim romantic lights in strategic places, beautiful fans lit up by tiny spot lights, an artificial lake burbling happily away setting a nice contrast to the elegant woman plucking gently at the samisen –

“Viggo?”

Crap, I keep distracted.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Orlando is looking nervously around and fidgeting with the menu in his hands.

“Umm…I asked if you knew what to order…”

“Well, is there anything you particularly like?”

He’s silent as he looks over the menu again.

“Maybe sushi?” I prompt when there is no reply.

“If not, we could always go for some gyoza.”

Further silence, then a sudden sigh.

“Viggo…I didn’t go out all that often with Eric…and umm, the man before that didn’t take me out a lot either.”

My fist clenches of its own accord. Hristo. Bastard. But why is he bringing that up?

“Okay then…what do you normally get – ”

“Viggo. I…” there’s a pained smile on his face and he shuts the menu, placing it face down, “…I’ve never had Japanese food before. Maybe you should decide?”

Shit, shit, shit. He feels out of place and uy. Gy. Great idea taking him here, Viggo.

“Oh, Orlando…don’t worry, I’ll make sure your first experience is unforgettable then. How about we try a little of everything so you get a good variety, hmm? Find out what you like?”

He shrugs and I f an an awkward smile back before waving hurriedly at a nearby waitress. I give our orders to her quickly, but keep watching my prince. His eyes are averted from mine and focused solely on his hands which are playing with one of his rings.

Now that we’ve ordered, there’s nothing to fidget with anymore, and I struggle to think of something intelligent to say.

Nothing comes to mind. There isn’t anything to say that won’t upset him further, though the idea of asking him how he found Australia did occur to me…I wasn’t sure if it would bring up depressing thoughts of leaving Eric. He hadn’t been out of the house since he came back, so no point asking him what he’s been doing recently.

I am at a dead end, and we’ve been sitting in silence for a while now.

Maybe I could bring up the thank-you card I sent to the firemen who rescued me from Paradise? That doesn’t relate to anything negative, does it?

“Well, they replied informing me it wasn’t them who saved my life, but the smart three-year old telling them I ‘fell asleep on the stairs’ so they knew where to find me quickly.”

Great, now there’s confusion written across his face.

“What? What are you talking abo

I really should learn when to not say/think things out loud.

Laughing nervously, I tuck my napkin onto my lap.

“The firemen…who rescued me? I sent them a thank you card the other day…I don’t think I told you.”

Those beautiful brown hazel flecked eyes widen and he flinches slightly.

“Oh…yes, the fire at Paradise…when you fell down the stairs and broke your collarbone.”

Right. That must be the negative thing I didn’t want to bring up. Subject change requir
“
“Have you talked to Vanessa recently?”

Finally, I am doing something right as the gorgeous face brightens and a wonderful ramble about Jack learning the alphabet. It’s easy to get lost in his voice, the way he gestures and uses his face to express his thoughts. Seems to me that Orlando only has two dials when nervous: the say nothing-at-all dial, or speak lots and lots option.

Things appear to be improving until our sake arrives at the table.

My god doesn’t say anything as the warm liquid is skilfully poured into two tiny cups by a patient hand and respectfully placed in front of him. Our waitress bows curtly and with a few backward steps, disappears.

Orlando observes her retreat before watching me like a hawk as I raise the drink to my mouth.

“It’s warm sake, a traditional Japanese drink.”

I tip the entire contents of the cup into my mouth and smile with pleasure as the fumes intoxicate my nose and the liquid burns a steady path down to my stomach.

Delicious.

Looking a little self-consciously around first, my prince imitates me, tilting his head back and downing the cup…only to immediately splutter and cough, knocking the rest of the flask over.

“Orlando!”

I reach over quickly with my napkin and try to soak up the liquid before it spilled on him. The poor boy was still choking and had a hand over his mouth to try and hold in the coughs. Not knowing what else to do, I moved closer and gently stroked his back while offering a cup of green tea for when he was ready.

“Are you okay?” I ask cautiously when his face doesn’t seem so red.

“Fine, fine…just…nothing.” He sips the tea carefully, studiously not making eye contact with me. “I hadn’t realised it was alcohol.”

Had I not mentioned it?? I really am an idiot.

“Do you not take alcohol? We’ve shared wine before…”

“Yeah,” he’s quick to reassure me, “but I can’t drink…a lot. And I wasn’t really prepared fhe bhe bitter taste of this. I am so sorry, Viggo, everyone’s staring at us now.”

They probably are, but I couldn’t care less. I only care about the worried young man who is cradling the hot cup so tightly his knuckles are going white.

“Oh, muffin…do you remember you mentioned on that tape to me? If people are staring, it’s only because they can’t stop looking and admiring at your beauty.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“That’s more like a first date now…all the exaggerated compliments about each other’s beauty.”

“I am only following your guidelines to a perfect first date.”

There is another conversational lull, but this time, we’re both slightly more at ease and there isn’t that horrible tension, and I take the chance to look around us a little.

“Oh my god…”

I can’t believe this. The gods must love me. Well, this god loves me, but there must be others out there smiling down on me right now.

“What?” he asks me, puzzled by my sudden excitement.

“This dinner has just picked up a hundred percent. Play along and don’t question me, okay?”

A quick nod from my prince, a quick set of hurried instructions to the waitress and I was set.

The expensive flask of sake I requested is dutifully presented to a neighbouring table where a well-dressed man and woman are enjoying their dinner. And when the waitress indicates in my direction, I casually escort Orlando over to their table.

“Mr Beanie!” I exclaim enthusiastically as soon as I reach them, before he has a chance to say anything, “I can not believhavehave the pleasure of meeting you in the flesh! You are even more magnificent in person than in the films I admired you in.”

Orlando, standing just behind me, tries hard to contain his laughter by muffling it with his hand, but a snort comes through and I resist the urge to smile.

Leaning over, I pry the chopsticks out of Beanie’s hand, and grasp his in min giv give it an energetic shake up and down.

“You were absolutely sen-SA-tional in that film, what was it called, again? The one with you in the skirt? And what a fabulous tan you had as well, I might add…”

My prince really does let out the laugh this time as my best friend mumbles something about Troy.

“Oh, that’s it, Troy! Excellent film, excellent legs. Well done, Mr Bean, sir, well done.”
hatehates, absolutely hates being called Mr Bean. I make sure to call him that a few more times.

“Don’t want to bother your dinner with this absolutely en-CHANT-ing lady over here,” I wave sweepingly at the blushing woman sitting opposite him who has had her mouth open through my entire little speech, “but I couldn’t sit by without coming over to tell you how great a fan I am of your works.”

I pour the sake into the cups myself and with the left hand gently covering the wrist of my right, I present to him a filled cup.

“This rich and spiced sake can not in any way represent the depth nor magnitude of my respect and admiration of you and all that you do, but I hope you will accept it as a meagre substitution, o talented and handsome actor, you.”

The ending of that little dialogue was probably ruined by my choked laugh, but I toasted him anyway and with a glare and twitch of his eye, he drank what I offered in one strong swig.

Poke all you want at Beanie, but there is a line that may not be crossand and from the way his eye was twitching more and more, I figured I was getting a little too close, so maybe one more little nudge and I had best be going.

“I am sorry to bother you anymore, Mr Bean,” he had turned back to his dinner, but now turns his glowering gaze back at me, “but my nephew wanted to have your esteemed autograph.”

At this point, I reach behind me, grab a hold of the suddenly reluctant Orlando and pull him in front, much to his chagrTherThere, now if Beanie has to yell at me later, he’ll have to yell at both of us.

“Paper?”

I shrug and look at my god, to which Beanie growls quietly and yanks at my prince’s hand, pulling his sleeve up and scribbling something quickly there.

“Oh, thank you, Mr Beanie!” I coo once more, dragging a giggling Orlando back towards our own table but not before shouting back, “I can assure you my nephew will never wash his hand again now that you have enlightened him with your holy and healing touch!”

We stumble laughingly back to our seat, amidst the swift rumblings of fellow diners among us wondering who this famous ‘Mr Bean’ is.

“You’re so bad!” Orlando sniggers as he twists his hand upside down trying to decipher the scribble on his wrist.

“What did he write?”

My question is answered by a peal of laughter.

“He says, ‘Eat shit and die, morons. I’ll get you for this, Viggo!’”

After an ice-breaker like that, there was no more time for uncomfortable or awkward pauses through the rest of dinner, and I had an amazing time with my handsome, witty boyfriend.

Though as I drove back towards Paradise at the end of the evening with a satisfied god resting his head on my shoulder and his arm around my waist, I wondered how I was going to organise a second date to top this first one.

Somehow though, I don’t think it can be achieved.

First dates always have that magical, something special feel about them.

Well at least, ours did.

I like to think it’s just the feeling I get when I am around Orlando.

He’s happily nuzzling against my neck now, and whispering how much he loves me…

Yeah, it must be the Orlando thing.

TBC...

Look at that! The re-appearance of Tooters! Haha, I couldn't resist, Viggo loves his damn truck so much, I had to mention her again.

And I presume Beanie was there since Viggo had gone to him for advice about restaurants...only to find him there as well. What kind of friend is Viggo?

But aren't you all wondering who that woman is? *Laughs* Aww...(and no, I don't know either.) *Wink*

I hadn't realised till I received an email from jill lj that there was a problem on AFF with the reviews! I sort of assumed that noone was reading my story anymore since the reviews stayed at 58!! I pouted a little and kicked around a little, then found out it was a site problem. *Hugs* Thanks for anyone who tried letting me know they're still enjoying it!!

If anything, you could always email me. And thanks again to Jill lj and of course, Chelsea Landon. Big hugs to you both!!! =)
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Flying With Eagles