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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: 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: Nothing happened. It’s innocent. But then why does it hurt?

Look! Is it me, or am I getting better at updating? Hehehe...I did it, the next one is out! I am worrried about reactions though...so less talk from me, and let you judge for yourself.

Chapter 49

10 o’clock.

Tick tock tick…

11 o’clock.

Tock tick tock…

12 o’clock.

Tick tock – That’s it. It’s lunchtime now, and I am still sitting here on Beanie’s couch wearing yesterday’s clothes with yesterday’s stubble.

Enough is enough. Phone call or not.

I check up on my friend once more and he is still unconscious on his bed, mouth open widely in the deep sleep of the very drunk. He won’t be awake for hours yet, especially since it was near dawn before he fell asleep.

The front door snicks shut quietly behind me as I stalk my way over to Tooters.

Damn that Leopard. I am going home.

~~~

Half an hour later, another front door slams shut behind me.

Silence again.

Maybe Orlando killed the Leopard. Ha. I should be so lucky.

Deafening silence.

Everything is oddly in its right place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but to see everything so precise and orderly…maybe I was assuming that Orlando would continue beating up his ‘big brother’ after I left…you know, defending my honour and all that.

My adrenaline and anger levels are still high and I move quickly around the main living room area and kitchen, scouting around for any traces of the bastard who is trying to ruin Orlando and my relationship.

Nothing. Eerie silence.

A peek in the guest room reveals that which I fear most.

Nothing there. Nobody.

Shit. Where the hell is Bana? Maybe he did somehow manage to convince my god to fly back with him to Australia. My blood runs cold in my veins and I can only stop and stare in shocked silence at the perfectly made bed. Or maybe he forced Orlando to leave. Made him go against his will.

My hands curl into fists instinctively, ready to beat the bastard who manhandled my god. If I get my hands on that –

Wait a second.

Deep breath. Two steps back.

With narrowed eyes, I turn back to the end of the corridor where our bedroom is located.

The huge doors are ominously shut.

Odd. They shouldn’t be shut. Unless…

Growling under my breath, and letting the fear from two seconds ago race through me back into anger and agitation, I charge my way down the hall in only three long strides and throw the door open.

~~~

“Vig?” Beanie murmurs as I slide into bed next to him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

There is silence as he blinks blearily at me.

“Vig?”

I smile at his confusion. He was always at his cutest when hungover.

“Hey…just go back to sleep. I just…wanted someone near.”

“’Kay.”

He moves over a little to let me into the warm spot he had been sleeping in. I don’t know how, but he’s always caught on that I don’t take to the cold very well.

“Thanks.”

Comfortable silence. So different from the one I was in a half hour ago. This silence…I can deal with.

I shift closer and try to take in more of his endless warmth, accidentally bumping into his face.

“So…you going to tell me what happened?”

Should have guessed that Beanie would have known something was up. Even if he has a terrible headache. But a man can dream, can’t he?

“Nothing happened.”

He snorts unattractively.

“Nothing happened,” he mocks. “Right. Do you honestly expect me to believe you? I am Beanie. Your Beanie. The one who knows your nose and ears are the first part of you to get cold when you step outside. Yep. Cold ears,” he declares tugging on said appendage though I try to pull away, “and I know you have a cold nose because you just rammed it into my neck, asshole.”

“Went out for some air.” I try again.

“Some air,” he mocks back. “Your hands are oddly warm from when you waved them in front of Tooters’ heater before you got out of the truck.”

Busted.

“I hate that you know me so well,” I moan, “Am I really that pathetic?”

“You’re not pathetic.” He rolls over to look me in the eye. “You’re just being…Viggo. Worried, over protective, controlling Viggo.” He laughs at the face I pull at his horrible description of me. “You know you want to tell me what happened. Come on,” he coaxes, tucking me into his thick quilt, “tell dear old Beanie about what nasty Eric has done now.”

He has one of those really thick heavy down quilts stuffed with feathers. It’s expensive as all hell, and I should know since I tried to talk him out of buying the damned thing, but would he listen? Nope, it was all ‘the most important thing in a man’s house is his bed. Don’t be stingy with your bedding. Trust me on this’. He’s got too much money. But it really is a nice quilt. Warm and cosy –

“Not saying anything has never worked on me. Viggo, stop playing with that damn feather,” it had been poking me so I had yanked it out and was fiddling around with it, “and just tell me what happened.”

I yield. Both the conversational war and the feather which he throws to a side.

“They were sleeping.”

He’s looking expectantly at me. “…and??”

“And they were sleeping together.”

There is no reaction, so I look up from the second feather I was pulling out to see his face.

There goes the twitchy eyebrow again.

“I don’t think I get it. They were sleeping. Together. It happens infrequently, but sometimes after a hard night of drinking, my perfect brain isn’t always running at its best. Am I getting this right? Sleeping together?”

I nod angrily.

“Yeah.”

“…that’s it??”

I throw away the damned feather in disgust.

“They were in the same bed! Our bed!”

“…were they umm…doing anything?”

“Sleeping,” I grumble.

“Just sleeping. No…doing stuff.”

“No.”

The silence this time feels different so I glare defiantly at Beanie. Yes, I know it sounds sort of stupid…when he puts it like that.

He’s breathing deeply, a sure sign he’s holding his temper in check. He’s just dying to shout at me though. I am waiting for it…

Three…two…one –

“Viggo, are you crazy?? What’s wrong with you? They’re just sleeping!”

“But it’s in our bed!” He doesn’t get it. I knew he wouldn’t.

“So what?? It’s entirely innocent…like we are doing now.”

“But we’ve never…been intimate! If we did, then it’s entirely inappropriate as well! He shouldn’t sleep with anyone else.”

He’s got a look on his face that I don’t know how to read.

“You’re crazy, Viggo,” is all his ‘perfect’ head finally comes up with.

“Orlando shouldn’t be sleeping with anyone but me,” I stubbornly repeat.

Beanie is silent for a moment. I know he’s trying to gauge why I am so heated about this, but he won’t be able to work it out. Not without hearing the whole story, and that, I can’t reveal.

“Come over here, grouchy.” He’s giving up like I’d known he would. “Maybe some sleep will do you good. Judging from the bags under your eyes, you didn’t get any shut-eye during the night clutching your mobile. Don’t shake your head at me, you know I am right. And besides watching you do that hurts my head, the sudden movement and all.”

He heaves me over so I am snuggled right up against him with his arms around me, the way we used to do as children. He still reeks slightly of alcohol, but underlying it is the familiar smell and feel of my best friend. The hairs on his chest are slightly scratchy against my cheek, and I rub myself against him like a kitten, making him laugh. Although different in so many ways from my smooth-skinned god, he can also make me feel warm…protected…loved. I finally get the comfort I wanted when I crawled in beside him.

I can always rely on good old Beanie. Though it’s hard to know how much you’re allowed to share with your best friend when in a relationship. Some things are meant to be kept between the two of you…yet where do you turn when you need advice?

How to tell your best friend that…your boyfriend and you haven’t had sex yet? That there is something wrong with him, but he’s not willing to share it with you? About the betrayal you felt when it was revealed he’s been on the phone crying to his ‘big brother’? How can you bare your soul…and be judged? Is it because I’ve been a bad boyfriend? Neglecting him? Not being understanding enough…not encouraging enough that he can come and talk to me? Or simply…am I just not enough?

It’s not my secret to tell…and it’s certainly not something that Orlando would want to tell anybody. Anyway, how would you even go about telling someone you’re impotent? I can’t tell Beanie…and because I don’t, he can’t understand the anger and confusion I feel about seeing my god and his Leopard in our bed. It’s…our place.

Our bed. Our haven. Our sanctuary.

It’s not even really about the sex…it’s about seeing him with someone else in the one place we come together and…just be. It’s the place where I feel closest to him. Where we sometimes stay up until the sun comes up just talking about the random things that flit through my mind. Where I can lie after he’s gone to sleep and watch him. Watch the light play across his face when I forget to close the curtains. Watch how his eyelashes flutter when he’s close to awakening. How his hand grasps instinctively for mine even in deep sleep. The creases he has across his face from the pillow when he wakes up in the morning, mumbling incoherently. How he always nudges me away for ‘ten more minutes, please…’ when I try to get him for breakfast. How he’s all warm-skin and smooth chest. Silky curls that bounce everywhere, how he always tries to bat Johnson away from his eyes by blowing air up instead of using the hand that is wrapped in mine. The way he purses his lips together when he first wakes up because they feel dry…right before I lean in and kiss him. Tiny snorts that escape him sometimes when he’s sleeping deeply and dreaming. His brilliant smile when he wakes up enough to realise that it’s me cuddling him in our bed.

These things are mine and mine alone. It’s ours.

It took seeing him with Eric curled around each other to remind me that it’s not true.

Bana knows these things too. Just as intimately if not more than I do.

Seeing them together…the way we are together…makes it seem…less special.

Less…ours.

How do you describe that to anyone? It can’t be put into words…feelings aren’t explainable…nor justifiable. They can only be felt. And that’s the way I feel.

So the best I can do is listen to the steady beat of my best friend’s strong heart…hold onto my insecurities, my worries and my doubts. And hope they go away soon.

TBC...

Well? Are you guys going to kill me for putting Viggo through this, or are you going go to kill me for putting Beanie through this? Hmm...

But look at it this way, neither Vig nor Orli did anything wrong! It's just sort of...a misunderstanding. Of sorts. *Innocent smile*

BTW, I was sitting around and re-watching the Two Towers...of Legolas and Aragorn running (to be specific), and I was immediately inspired. So be prepared, the next chapter should be soon. *Huge grin*

Thanks for all the reviews...seriously, I love opening my inbox and getting replies. They're really inspiring and encouraging, so please keep them coming!! =)
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Flying With Eagles