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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: Birthday presents...

OMG...I've done it. This is the longest chapter I think, and I am about to faint from exhaustion. I didn't even check the sucker because it's 6 am now, and I have to wake up in 2 hours for class. Oh crap.

I was just so inspired and thrilled to hear about the Katelando break-up rumours that I kept going on and on. Hehe, let's keep our fingers crossed that they're really over and Orli and go find his one true love.

The return to the cafe is dedicated to 'agentsparrow' for being a true sweetheart and dedicated reader. MUAH, that was for you, hon!

Oh, just as a little side note, this actually has a happy ending to this chapter! Yes! Can you believe it!!?

Hope you enjoy this one, it really cost me a kidney to churn it out. And I can't believe I've managed my 50th chapter. That's got to be a record of some sort!!

Chapter 50

The damned phone had finally rung at about three in the afternoon, after I’d eventually given into exhaustion and taken a nap with Beanie.

Which is why we’re currently at everything but each other in the lift.

“It’s okay, Vig…” he tries to reassure, but my feelings are too close to the surface for me to say anything.

Curt nod.

“Just relax,” he tries again.

Ding.

We’re here.

It feels odd to just barge in like I did earlier on today, but…I am not going to ring the doorbell to my own apartment! Beanie takes the decision out of my hands by simply knocking on the door and stepping back behind me.

Here come footsteps. Weird. I feel like I am waiting for my execution.

My prince suddenly fills my vision and has wrapped himself around me before I can say anything.

“Viggo! You’re back so quickly! I know I didn’t ask you first, but I thought it would be okay to tell Eric he can stay with us for a week or so – ”

He’s happy and pleased to see me, I can tell by how he presses himself full-length against me. I am stiff in his arms without returning his embrace and he backs off, a little puzzled frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, let’s not talk in the doorway like barbarians. Come along, come along,” Beanie cuts in. Smart man. He knows he doesn’t want to get caught in the middle of this, especially after a question like ‘what’s wrong’. The answer could be long.

I let myself be led by the hand into the living room, and there once again, is the Leopard-man, sitting there with his feet up looking like he owns the place.

“So,” he drawls, “you’re back again. Do you normally sneak in and out of your own house like a thief?”

Damn. He must have known I’d come back earlier. Damnit. And I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.

Orlando looks confused, still clutching my hand. I guess he didn’t share his little secret with my prince.

“I believe someone mentioned something about talking?” Beanie interrupts my glaring and the raised-eyebrow-cocky-look that Bana is currently throwing back.

“Viggo?”

I can’t ignore the quiet plea and look reluctantly at the man squeezing my hand. He looks so young when he bites on his lower lip and he tugs at me when I don’t respond.

“Okay…” I give in. I don’t want to talk…what would I even say? How would I even phrase it without sounding petty? ‘I know your brother is really upset and going through a tough time, but I don’t want you to give him any comfort’. Is that insensitive enough? Or should I sound even worse?

I breathe deeply and try to figure out something.

“Up with you, Bana boy.”

My best friend cheerfully heaves the large sprawling man up and pushes him towards the front door. Good. Get him out of my apartment. Like he hasn’t already done enough damage.

“Hey! This isn’t cheap, don’t wrinkle it!”

‘Asshole’ is the first thought that comes to my mind. But not Beanie’s, since he starts to laugh…the weird thing is, the Leopard-man joins him after a moment.

“You think mine is cheap? Do you not recognise Armani??” is the retort. I should have guessed that’s why those two are good friends. Both are damn label queens.

Then they’re gone and it’s silent.

Just me and my god as it should be.

Except there’s some kind of gap between us now and I don’t know how to cross it, or get rid of it. I know the key is to tell him how I feel, but…how?

We sit side by side awkwardly on the couch and I finally pull my hand away from his. It feels odd.

“First off, Viggo…sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Horrible silence again. I think he’s waiting for me to accept his apology. And that I can do, since it’s well, not what I am upset about.

I nod and shrug.

“It’s okay.”

Pause.

“No, it’s not okay, is it?” Orlando asks, sliding over to sit closer. “That’s why you’re upset. Because I made you wait a whole day, is that it? Or is it because I didn’t ask and told Eric he could stay?”

My clueless god.

“No, Orlando – actually, you know what? Let’s get out of here.”

Normally, my apartment is where I feel most comfortable, it’s my home. But right now, it’s stifling and crowded. Though Bana left with Beanie, it feels as if he’s still here smirking…three’s a crowd.

Orlando opens his mouth, probably to apologise again, but I stand up abruptly.

“We can talk somewhere else. Let’s go. Now.”

Silently, after casting me one more long look, he carefully makes his way to the bedroom, presumably to grab his coat.

I am the one who’s not telling him what’s bothering me, the one who’s delaying our talk…yet it’s still a punch to the stomach when he comes back out wearing a woollen beanie pulled low over his eyes.

He’s nervous and trying to hide himself. But who am I to blame, I am the one doing the hiding this time.

~~~

We walk side by side, each looking away from the other. I am looking studiously out over the river as we cross the bridge, and though he’s facing the cars passing by, I don’t think he’s actually seeing them.

Though we hadn’t determined a destination, we somehow found ourselves standing in front of ‘Some Like it Hot’, the place where it all started. Well, it’s getting cold, and my nose, I know, is getting red though I can’t see it, so we might as well go in.

Mandy greets us enthusiastically, as if she hasn’t seen us in weeks and weeks, coddling Orlando and teasing him about the beanie hiding his curls. She has a certain way with people, putting them at ease and my god is no more resistant to her charms than I am, and we find ourselves smiling along with her.

She bustles off to get my coffee and his hot chocolate, leaving us still sitting there smiling. I look over at him sitting opposite me and though the smile slips slightly, it’s still there.

“Hey…” he says softly, nudging my knee with his.

“Yeah?”

“…how about this. Next time, I’ll call – ”

“Orlando.”

He really doesn’t get it, does he?

God, he looks absolutely devastated staring back at me. It makes me feel like I’ve been kicking at innocent puppies. Crap.

“Muffin,” I try again, “You’re getting it wrong. Well actually, you’re right that I am…upset, but it’s not for the reason you think.”

He chews on his lower lip silently while I try to gather my thoughts.

“You know my studio?” I eventually begin, “well, you know it’s a special place for me. It’s…my place. The place where I work, paint and…let out my thoughts. I don’t let anyone other than you and Henry in there.”

“I…hadn’t realised.”

“It’s true. Rita isn’t allowed to touch anything in there, and Beanie can only go in if I am there as well. But you…” I reach over to give his hand a squeeze, “you can go in and out as you please. Because it’s you.”

He smiles less self-consciously at me.

“Viggo…that’s so sweet. I am so pleased to know you trust me so much. But what does this have to do with anything…?”

“I am just getting to that.” Deep breath. “My studio isn’t the only place that is…special.”

“Oh…I am sorry, it’s Eric, isn’t it? You don’t want him staying in your apartment. I understa – ”

The way he keeps blabbing on and on just shows to me how anxious and panicky he is about me being upset, and it hurts me to see him like a frightened rabbit. I move from my seat to sit beside him and pull him close under my arm. It takes a second of stroking his arm before he relaxes into me and stops talking.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“I don’t mind that Eric is staying with us.” Ha, much. “And it’s now your home as much as it is mine, you can invite whoever you want. Eric included.” This part, I do mean. “But…” I am struggling to find words to convey how I feel without sounding like a melodramatic ass, “…the bedroom we share is…umm…I mean to say…I think Eric should stay in the guest room from now on. After all, that’s what it’s for, guests, right?”

My nervous laughter isn’t helping any.

“Oh Viggo…I am so sorry. I don’t think I really thought it through…he was so upset, it was late, and I didn’t know what to do…”

‘So you brought him to our bed?’ I wanted to scream.

“…and our bedroom,” he continues, “it’s always been such a comforting place for me, that…I don’t know, maybe subconsciously I wanted to share that with him? Does that make any sense, Viggo? I am so so sorry…I didn’t realise…”

He looks stricken as he swipes a desperate kiss against my chin then burrows his face into my neck, the wool of his beanie scratchy against my ear, all the while murmuring how sorry he was.

In an odd way, I can see how it happened. I can almost understand it…but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Orlando…what I am trying to say is, that bed, that room…it’s ours. It’s special to me, and as weird as it may sound…I don’t want to share it with anyone else. And now that Eric’s been there, it just seems to be less…ours.”

I have to give him credit, he paused to think about what I had said before nodding slowly.

“I see how…weird it is now. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologise anymore, I know it was a mistake.”

“I won’t do it again!” he promises, pushing away from me so he can look into my eyes, earnestness written all over his face, “I promise! Never again…just us.”

My heart beats slightly easier and I pull the thrice damned beanie from his head before pulling his trembling body close once again as Mandy brings our drinks over. And surprise, surprise, she brought blue berry muffins with her. What can I say, she always knew her ‘Orli’ better than anyone else.

Well, it’s a start at least.

~~~

I don’t see much of Orlando the rest of the afternoon back at Paradise. I had shut the door to my studio, a sign that I didn’t want to be interrupted. I couldn’t get anything painted though, there were too many fleeting images and vague shadows in my mind, but nothing whole. Nothing I could really work with. All the impressions and colours went by too quickly so I just let them flit through, not really thinking about anything in particular.

It was already dark when I finally woke up from the daze I had been in. Hours must have gone by.

I ease open the door and peer out.

Darkness.

Padding quietly out to the living room, I find my god sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket watching the television with the sound muted.

“Hey, baby,” he greets, “you finished your painting?”

I accept his kiss and plonk myself gracelessly beside him.

“Wasn’t painting. Just playing around.”

He gives me a shy smile and sort of falls over into my lap.

“So…” he’s looking up at me, long lashes fluttering and I stare down at him, mesmerised, “you ready for your birthday present?”

Oh my god. I had totally forgotten about it being my birthday celebration. It seems like light years ago.

“You bought me something?”

“Well, not exactly. But it’s for you. If you want it.”

“Of course I want it!” It soothes me to know he went to the trouble of doing something for me…showing that he cares.

“I don’t think you do,” he pouts. “Prove it.”

Prove it…?

The obvious confusion on my face makes him laugh delightedly.

“Prove you want my present!”

“Umm…how?”

He pouts some more.

“Viggo!”

“I don’t know how to prove it!”

He rolls his eyes at me in exasperation.

“You’re supposed to kiss me!”

Oh I see…it wasn’t pouting. It was puckering. I can take a hint.

I lean over awkwardly to peck him on his lips. It’s not the most comfortable position to be in…it’s how you would twist if you were trying to give yourself a blow job.

“Viggo! That’s not a kiss! That was you…resting your mouth on mine!”

The things he comes up with…

“Fine fine…” he’s too easy to tease.

I pull him up and try again, this time putting in more effort and it pays off when he moans softly and wraps an arm around my neck to pull me closer.

“That’s better,” he gasps when I finally let him go, “you can get your present now.”

You can imagine my surprise when he jumps away from me and heads to the front door.

“We’re going somewhere?” I ask curiously.

“Yep. To get your present.”

“We should get our coats, it’s cold – ”

“No, it’s okay. We’re not leaving the building.” I still don’t move, just stand there staring at him. “Come on, Viggo,” he cajoles, “trust me, you’ll like it. I think. Well, I hope you do.”

~~~

Why the hell are we standing outside the Wolf suite?

I am currently standing with him on the doorstep as he fumbles with the keys. Vanessa and Johnny haven’t moved back in yet, but they’re slowly getting furniture and most of their belongings replaced and Orlando’s been letting the movers in during the day though I haven’t seen what they’ve done with the place yet.

“Why are we going into an empty apartment?” I try to keep the whine out of my voice, but my prince hears it nonetheless and turns around to brush his hand across my cheek.

“You’ll see in a moment, won’t you?”

He shuffles around with the keys a little more, then gives up and hands them to me.

“I can’t get the door open. You do it.”

I am pushed in front of him, and in two seconds, the door slides open easily.

“You’re a useless muffin, aren’t you, can’t even open the – oh my god.”

I stare. I just stop and stare, spellbound.

Warm arms encircle me and a golden god pushes his chin over my shoulder to admire the view as well.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe when I can finally speak. “You did this for me?”

He laughs softly, the puff of air warm against my neck. “Who else? But I didn’t do it alone, Eric helped.”

Talk about a mood spoiler.

“Hey, don’t get all tense,” my prince chides playfully, “you’re supposed to enjoy this!”

“Where is that Leop- I mean, Eric anyway?”

I really have to get out of the habit of calling him Leopard-man. I keep slipping up.

“He’s staying with Beanie.”

What?

Turning quickly, yet keeping Orlando wrapped around me, we’re in each others’ arms but now face to face.

“With Beanie?”

“Yeah…I wanted it to be just us. Is that okay?”

Is it okay? Hell yes.

“But he’s your brother…” is my weak protest nevertheless. I feel guilty for having pushed the Leopard-man away. I know he’s going through a hard time, and he’s flown all the way over to London to spend time with Orlando.

“And you’re my boyfriend. End of that. Come on…let’s go get your present.” He pulls away, but keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, leading me down the path lit by candles after candles. He must have had to buy out a whole store of the stuff.

“This isn’t my present?”

“Of course not! We’re just getting to the good bit.”

Leaning against each other, we slowly make our way towards the living room. It’s such a beautiful sight, to see tiny flickering flames all around us, casting everything in a gentle warm glow, not the typical harsh white light of electric bulbs.

“What a fire hazard this is,” I remark offhandedly.

“Viggo! Stop being so practical and just be romantic!”

We turn the corner and there in front of us is one of those classic scenes you see in movies. The ones you scoff and sneer at when they appear on the screen simply because it’s so cliché, overplayed and so Hollywood. But to know that the man you love spent ages preparing and setting up such a scene for you because it’s your birthday…and to have him stand beside you practically vibrating with tension while waiting for your reaction…it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

“It’s…oh, Orlando…”

There are no words. So I settle for tilting his head back and leaning my forehead against his, letting my eyes tell him how touched I am by his gesture. Letting my hands ease the tension as I run them through his hair and over the back of his neck. Letting my mouth, lips and tongue assure that I appreciate what he’s done for me, and how much I love him.

Like the hall, the stark living room has beautiful lit candles all over the floor, but in the middle, illuminated by their light is a single grand piano standing majestically amidst it all.

I run a trembling hand across the keys, careful not to press though in case I disturb the peaceful aura of the room.

“Sit beside me,” my prince beckons. He is radiant and smiling, no hats, sunglasses or barriers hiding him from me. This is the way he should be.

As if hypnotised, I sit as close as possible on the narrow stool, our thighs pressed hotly together.

“Before I start though…I just wanted to explain all of this.”

He’s speaking to me, but all I can do is look around me in amazement.

“Viggo?”

I wrench my head back to look at him and he chuckles.

“I wanted to say…you express yourself through your art, your paintings, your poetry. But for me, it’s different.”

“You have your music,” I whisper, reluctant to speak loudly.

“Mm-hmm,” he agrees easily, “I share emotions by playing –”

My breath leaves me in a loud woosh in sudden comprehension.

“Oh my god, Orlando…your music.”

I don’t own a piano. I never noticed…never noticed the lack of music…how has my prince been coping? The tearful phone calls to Eric are pushed into perspective now. How the Leopard kept saying I didn’t know how to take care of Orlando. And it’s all true. How could I have overlooked the most important thing to him? His emotions, feelings, thoughts were all conveyed through tunes and notes, trills and scales…but there had been silence.

So much silence.

“I am a terrible boyfriend…”

My prince’s eyes are wide as he stares at me.

“What are you saying? What’s wrong? Viggo…”

“You should have said something! I can’t believe you’ve been without your muse for…how long now? Oh, Orlando, I am so sorry, I’ve been so caught up in having you with me, I never thought about a piano…”

He looks almost frightened by me but he reaches over to hug me reassuringly.

“You’re a wonderful boyfriend, don’t think otherwise. And it’s okay, I don’t really need a piano. It’s not like I’d stop breathing if I didn’t have one.”

It’s not true at all, and though his mouth is smiling at me, his eyes aren’t. He needs his music just as I need my art. It’s not just a hobby, it’s…much much more.

“Besides,” my god continues chuckling, “what would I have said? ‘Viggo, buy me a piano’? That’s absurd!”

“No, it’s not,” I tell him firmly. “We’re getting you one as soon as we can. Tomorrow perhaps we can go look at some.”

“You can’t buy a piano for me! They’re so expensive! I can’t ask you to do that!”

“You’re not asking me for anything, muffin. This is something I should have done ages ago. I just…don’t know why I never thought of it.”

The guilt is crushing me.

“Stop it.”

I glance quickly at Orlando. I’ve never heard that tone of voice from him before.

“Stop beating yourself up over this, Viggo. I brought you here to make you feel loved, to celebrate your birthday, not bring you close to tears and make you think you’re a horrible boyfriend. You’re not. You’re the best.”

My mouth opens of its own accord to deny it, but he gently places two fingers over my lips.

“No, enough of that. We’re moving on. I was telling you about how I play music to share my feelings with others…when I realised I’ve never played for you before. And by that, I mean with you sitting beside me while I play for you…and not the children’s songs I play for Jack and Lily-Rose. Something only for you…to show how I feel about you.”

If I hadn’t been close to tears before, I am now.

“Remember the song I composed for you when I left?”

I manfully hold back the dreaded emotions and incline my head. That damned song I had playing through my head the entire time he was away from my side…I have every exquisite note memorised and engraved in my memory.

“I thought I would play that for you…tonight.”

He sits forward to reach the keys and I automatically inch away to give him room, but he frowns and draws me near again, wrapping my arm around his waist.

“I am cold, you have to keep me warm,” he quips cheekily.

Then the tender and slow build up of music begins, his fingers dancing easily across clean ivory keys to let the love in his heart sing freely.

The magic his music is weaving doesn’t cease, not even when his butter soft tenor overlaps it as he speaks softly.

“Viggo…I’ve never composed music for anyone before. You’re the first…and so I was thinking…it’s really special to me because we’re the only two people to ever hear it…and even if others might, they won’t understand it, because it’s only for me and you…it’s ours.”

Those are the last words spoken that night. He let his music talk to me, and I remember the last thought running through my mind before my eyes closed and I was swept away by his love for me, was ‘he understands me…my muffin really understands.’

TBC...

See? No one can kill me this time because they're actually happy for once!!!! YAYY! Go me, I am capable of fluff!! *Cheers*
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Flying With Eagles