~*~*~
It's 3:23am by the clock on the bedside table and Viggo's hands are shaking a little as he rolls another cigarette.
"You can have one of mine," Sean says from the bed. "No need to bother."
"I like doing it," Viggo says. "I'm just tired."
"You look it." Viggo hears the sheets rustling and knows without turning around that Sean is giving him a serious look.
"You've seen me worse off," he says, almost defensively.
"We're neither of us getting younger," Sean says and Viggo grimaces as he brings the cigarette to his mouth, licking at the paper.
"What's she like?" Viggo asks, once he's got the cigarette lit and has taken that first, hot drag.
"Blonde," Sean says and something in his dismissive tone of voice annoys Viggo. Before he can say anything, Sean continues, and his words make it clear that the tone of voice is armor. "And a little too eager to be the next Mrs. Sean Bean. You'll notice she's not with me."
And so this was comfort, Viggo thinks, taking another long drag and holding it as if he were smoking something other than plain tobacco. That's what it was back then, too.
"And you? I heard...." Sean's voice trails off, and Viggo knows that Sean won't admit to reading tabloids or interviews.
"A thing," Viggo says, hearing the note of finality in his voice. "We both understood it." He knows that Sean will be frowning now, knows that he's not even giving Sean as much as Sean gave him. "She was married, but no one knew that," he adds, and it's something like a gift, giving this information to Sean. "The press, I mean."
"Ah," Sean says, as if that explains a lot. And maybe, to Sean, it does.
They fall silent for a time and Viggo smokes, pushing a wedge of lime around the table in front of him with one of those silly, small, plastic straws. "Why does this happen?" he asks, and then realizes he's spoken aloud.
"Because it's how we are," Sean says, and Viggo knows that Sean is caught up in the same melancholy that is keeping Viggo from even turning to look at his ... friend? Lover? Fuck buddy? That's part of the problem, of course. Even the poet, the man who has a word for everything, doesn't know what Sean is to him.
What he does know is what his own role is. He's supposed to come back to bed and they'll silently hold each other close until one of them falls asleep -- or at least pretends to do so -- and the other collects his clothes and leaves.
It's how we are, he tells himself. We both know how it works. His earlier words come to him and he can't help a snort as he drops the butt into the remains of one of Sean's gin and tonics. We both understand it.
Just then, at the very moment Viggo opens his mouth to say something that isn't in the script, he hears the bed move and then Sean padding quietly toward him. This isn't familiar and he closes his mouth on words he didn't have ready.
"In November," Sean says, putting his hand on Viggo's shoulder. Although he quickly tightens his grip, Viggo can still feel the faint tremble in Sean's fingers. He can hear the uncertainty in Sean's voice. "In November ... I'll be filming, mind you ... won't have a lot of time ... fuck it all. Viggo? Come to India with me. Please?"
And suddenly, even as he opens his mouth, Viggo has no idea what will happen next.
"Yes," he tells Sean, turning to see that his own relief and happiness are mirrored on Sean's face. "Yes, I will."
Summary: Viggo is a little tired of following the unwritten rules of his relationship with Sean.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 628 Read: 726
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009