"My God," Viggo said as he leaned in the doorway of Sean's kitchen, staring blearily at the sight of Sean at the stove surrounded by food. "What in hell are you doing?"
"Just making a bit o' brekkie," Sean said, his accent so broad as to almost be parody. "When yer 'ungry there's nowt like a good fry up."
Blinking at him, Viggo shook his head. "I got about one word in three there."
"That many?" Sean asked in a more normal accent, as he cut a couple of tomatoes in half. "I'm slipping."
"Please tell me I can have mat鬢 Viggo mumbled as he sank into a chair.
"I'm willing to bend the rules a little for you," Sean said, as he began to grill the tomatoes. "But I think all your gourds migrated back to your place, so you'll have to have it in a mug. Sure you don't just want coffee?"
"Coffee?" Viggo said. "Yeah, I'll have ... are those canned baked beans?"
"Christ, Viggo," Sean said, filling a big mug with coffee and putting it in front of Viggo. "For an international sort of bloke, you don't know much about the native food of my people."
"We generally make fun of it," Viggo said after a careful sip of coffee. He gave an appreciative sigh; Sean consistently made the best coffee Viggo'd ever had.
"Not very politically correct of you," Sean replied, putting the tomatoes on to the plates that were being kept warm in the oven. He turned the bacon over, pleased that he could actually get decent rashers here in New Zealand.
"Sorry," Viggo said with a slight smirk. He was waking up now, and he had to admit that there was something appealing about watching Sean make breakfast for him. Of course, part of that appeal had to do with the fact that Viggo's fatigue and hunger were due to a late night spent having incredible sex with Sean. So I guess he really does owe me breakfast.
Once the bacon was done, Sean started in on the eggs. "Be glad I care about you and your arteries; I'm leaving out the fried bread."
"Big of you," Viggo replied. "Can I help?"
"Nah," Sean said, spooning the bacon fat over the top of the eggs. "Almost done."
Viggo idly scratched his chest and watched, wondering if he'd ever understand how Sean could be so briskly competent in the mornings. Oh, Viggo could manage it himself, but only on camping trips. Something to do with the fresh air, he supposed. But, unless Sean had gotten well and truly drunk on the night before, he was like this every single morning.
"There we are," Sean said, putting a rack of toast on the table before sliding a plate in front of Viggo. He went back to the counter and returned with a pot of marmalade and his own plate. "Eat up."
Staring down at his plate, which contained two fried eggs, three very wide pieces of meaty bacon, a generous helping of beans, two halves of grilled tomato, and a small pile of grilled mushrooms, Viggo laughed. "You sure this isn't dinner?"
"Positive," Sean said, spooning some beans onto his toast. "No chips."
Beans on toast, Viggo decided as he imitated Sean, were an acquired taste. On the other hand, the eggs were perfect and the grilled tomato really did add something to the meal. While here, Viggo had grown accustomed to bacon that was nothing like American bacon, and he'd never met a mushroom he didn't love, so the breakfast was a considerable success.
"Thank you," Viggo said, as he polished off the last of the beans -- which were fine when not on toast. "This was really good."
"No mocking?" Sean asked, mopping up his plate with one final corner of toast.
"I'm too stuffed to mock," Viggo said, leaning back in his chair. "I'd be loosening my waistband if I weren't wearing sweats."
"You Americans are breakfast wimps," Sean said with a snort. "I feel like I could go and fight ten thousand Orcs."
"Breakfast wimps?" Viggo raised an eyebrow. "All right, fine. You're on. Next Sunday, we're at my place and I'm gonna cook you an American breakfast, Southern Californian style."
"We've Ian's party on Saturday," Sean said. "You're gonna inflict your cooking on me when I'm hung over?"
"Are you saying something about my cooking?"
"Not so much your cooking as you in the kitchen," Sean replied with a roll of his eyes.
"Trust me," Viggo said.
Sean looked over at him, his face oddly serious for such a essentially silly conversation. And then he smiled, a slight private smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. "You know I do."
Viggo felt his heart thump hard in his chest and he smiled back at Sean.
* * *
"Fuck!"
Sean buried his head under the pillow and wondered if he was going to die now or linger in dire agony for another 50 years or so. The sound of multilingual cursing and banging pots and pans in the kitchen wasn't helping at all, and he considered getting up and closing the door. The only problem was that doing so involved getting out of bed and, worse, getting vertical.
Viggo said something in Spanish that sounded truly filthy and Sean winced as he heard the sound of a pan hitting the floor. He was just to the point of thinking that getting vertical was going to have to happen when he heard the slap of bare feet on the hardwood floor.
"I've got some water and Tylenol for you," Viggo said quietly. "And a piece of dry toast if you think you can handle it. Breakfast won't be for a while."
"If I didn't love you already," Sean mumbled.
"Good to know you can be had for water and over the counter drugs," Viggo said, his voice slightly amused.
Sean struggled up on to one elbow and took the water, swallowing the pills with a grimace. "Ta."
"No problemo," Viggo murmured, kissing Sean's cheek very lightly before heading back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
Leaning back on his pillow, Sean marveled at Viggo's sheer thoughtfulness. The fact that he almost always tended to other people when they were ailing or tired or just plain fed up almost made up for the fact that Viggo hardly ever suffered from a hangover. When Viggo had mentioned it, early on, Sean had thought it was just typical male posturing. It was only after he started waking up in bed with Viggo on a regular basis that he realized that, no matter how drunk Viggo got the night before, he never suffered from the ill-effects.
It's self-defense, really. He's probably kind and understanding when I'm hung over because I'd kill him otherwise. He finished his water and rolled over, hoping to grab a little more sleep while he waited for this headache to lessen.
When Sean next opened his eyes, he felt much better. It had been about a half hour since Viggo had come in and even with the door closed, Sean could smell something sweet and yeasty. After sitting up carefully and ascertaining that nether his head nor his stomach were going to explode, Sean made his way carefully into the bathroom. After downing some of Viggo's B-complex vitamins, he got into the shower, emerging a short time later feeling much better.
"Hey," Viggo said as Sean cautiously made his way into the kitchen. It looked like a storm had swept through, leaving food, packaging, utensils and dishes in its wake.
"Christ," Sean said as he settled in a chair as far from Viggo as possible. "How can you cook in here?"
"Huh?" Viggo said, looking around as he brandished a knife almost as big as Aragorn's eleven dagger. "It's not that...." His voice trailed off as he looked around. "OK, well, yeah, I guess it is that bad. But I had to make bread." He plugged the kettle in and went back to cutting up chilies.
"I figured as much," Sean said. "Either that or you were trying to refine cocaine and your lab blew up."
"Heh," Viggo said absently as he tossed the chilies into a sauce pan. "Hope your stomach can take spicy food this morning."
"If I can take you, hot stuff," Sean replied with a leer, "I can take anything."
"Lines like that are why the ladies love you, I'm sure," Viggo said, stirring his sauce before putting a cast iron frying pan on the stove and pouring oil into it. "Or maybe it?s your manly stubble." The kettle whistled and he unplugged it, before filling a tea pot.
"And here I thought it was me big dick," Sean said. "Is tea traditional?"
"No, but I figured you'd want a good strong cup or two after last night."
"Christ, you're bloody perfect," Sean said, moving cautiously over to take possession of the tea pot and a cup.
"Remember that next time I rugbytackle you," Viggo replied, swatting Sean's ass with his spatula as Sean went back to his seat.
"Oi! Save the kinky stuff for the bedroom!"
Twenty minutes and just about every single cooking utensil in the kitchen later, Viggo set a basket covered in napkins down on the table. "Pan dulce," he said with a grimace. "If we were at home, I'd go down to this great Mexican bakery and buy it, but that's not an option, so I made it." He returned with two big plates, putting one of them in front of Sean before he sat down. "Huevos Rancheros ala Viggo."
The first bite was perfect, the sauce just spicy enough to overcome the coolness of the sour cream and chopped avocados. "This is bloody marvelous," Sean said, shaking his head. "I want the recipe."
"Nope," Viggo replied, ducking his head a little at the compliment. "I can give you the basic recipe -- and let me tell you, it's a bitch to find corn tortillas in Wellington -- but you have to embellish it yourself." He sipped his maté and then smiled at Sean.
"So, does me brekkie measure oop?" Viggo said in a truly terrible Yorkshire accent.
"Hell yeah," Sean said, through a mouthful of food. "Better'n your accent that's for sure."
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A full-on fry up. There are variants; Sean not only omitted the fried bread but one of the usual meats. IME it's pretty common to get both sausage and bacon.
Pan Dulce -- as Viggo says, if you live anywhere with a large Mexican population, it's really just easier to find a good Mexican bakery.
Viggo's version of Huevos Rancheros starts with this recipe and then changes it by using a different cheese -- whatever mild white cheese you can get in NZ -- and putting diced avocados and sour cream on top of the whole thing just before serving. I have yet to meet a single person, Mexican or otherwise, who makes this dish the same way as anyone else.
Summary: Two different breakfasts from two different cultures.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1846 Read: 546
Published: 16 Aug 2009 Updated: 16 Aug 2009