Sean frowned at his watch; the date read October 20th. That couldn't be right, he walked to the small nightstand and picked up the TV Guide. The magazine was folded open on Tuesday the 19th, but as it was now after midnight he knew his watch hadn't lied. "Shite," he cursed to the empty hotel room, "how the fuck could I forget his birthday again?" But Sean knew how easy it was to let the real world slip by while you inhabited the skin of another person for days on end.
Sean rubbed his jaw easing an imaginary irritation; no time for a card and what the fuck would I buy for Viggo even if I had time? Sean sat down with a thump and threw the TV Guide onto the impractical glass topped desk. I'll have to call him, Sean thought while he punched in the rarely used code for Viggo's number. Several opening lines ran through his head while he listened to phone connecting, but they all fled when he heard the message bank recording start. Sean hit the disconnect button and glared at the offending phone, What's the point of having the fucking thing if it's never turned on? He knew he couldn't let another birthday go by; especially the way they parted last time ... he had to contact Viggo. Orlando would know, he always seemed to know where Viggo was, Sean reasoned as he looked for Orlando's number on his cell phone. Sean had no idea where in the world Orlando was so he thought it safer to text rather than call. It took him a while to decide what to say, whether or not to admit he had forgotten Viggo's birthday. In the end he simply asked if Orlando knew how to contact Viggo. The message sent and Sean laid the phone next to the bed willing Orlando to reply soon.
Sean stood and watched the phone while he tapped a cigarette out of the packet and placed it between his lips. He leaned over and checked the screen on the phone before reaching into his pocket and fishing out his lighter. Sean sighed, flicked the lighter open and drew a breath until the tip of the cigarette glowed into life. He picked up the ashtray and sat on the edge of the bed. Come on Orlando check yer phone... you better not have lost the bastard thing again. Sean leaned forward, elbows on knees, impatiently flicking ash into the ashtray he had put on the floor between his feet.
The cigarette burnt down to the butt and Sean crushed it onto the hotel insignia in the middle of the ashtray. With a disgusted grunt, he picked up the ashtray and slid it back on the table.
By now it was after one in the morning; with a frustrated sigh Sean gave up and got ready for bed. He carefully slung his clothes over the back of a chair and pulled on an uncharacteristically worn pair of flannel pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt spotted with paint lent him by a friend that he had never managed to return. Sean checked that the phone was still on before he climbed between the tightly tucked sheets.
He absently picked at a cracked paint splotch while he stretched his legs, kicking at the sheet bottom to loosen the corner. Finally comfortable, Sean closed his eyes and wondered if Viggo was in a hotel bed similar to this waiting for the sleep he often found so elusive. Sean had received so many phone calls in the wee hours of the morning during the 'Rings' odyssey ... usually after Viggo had exhausted Peter and Fran with countless faxed suggestions he rang Sean. The conversations were generally one-sided. Viggo rambled about anything and everything ... it seemed to be enough knowing that Sean was on the other end of the line. Sean rarely needed to say anything; he simply let Viggo talk until the words blurred and he drifted off to sleep. Sometimes Sean lay in his darkened room and just listened to Viggo sleep ... but he would never admit to doing that.
A sharp beep startled Sean and he scrambled to grab the phone. He squinted at the illuminated screen ... Orlando, but the rest of the message didn't seem to make much sense. After frowning at the letters a moment longer he realised the problem was not his aging eyes, but Orlando's text abbreviations; with that knowledge he deciphered the message... you forgot his birthday didn't you?
Sean groaned and punched back, do you know where he is?
It was only seconds before he read, admit it Sean!
"Fuck!" Sean cursed at the phone before letting out an aggravated grunt and replied, yes.
Fucking nice, man!
Sean looked at the words and felt like a total arsehole knowing the untyped sentence that should follow, he never forgets yours. Sean sat and considered what to type when the phone beeped a new message, Intercontinental, Toronto.
Sean quickly wrote the name on the back of the hotel evaluation card and texted back a thank you. Within a minute Orlando signed off with, make it good for him, yeah? See ya bastard!
"Make it good for him", Sean mused as he turned the phone off and settled back into the too soft pillow.
It was true that Viggo hadn't missed one of his birthdays since they became friends in New Zealand, he always made sure he sent something of meaning ... something he had taken time over. Sean remembered his last birthday; amidst all the hallmark moments on his mantelpiece there was a small hand made card - a collage of paint, photos and fabric. He recognised the fabric; Viggo must have kept back a piece of the material he tore from Sean's coat that made its way in to one of his paintings. The card was safely tucked in one of Sean's drawers at home and he felt guilty that he had never found the time to write a thank you.
He rarely found time these days to keep in touch with his friends, but it seemed to be worse with Viggo. They had been so close, but had only managed one face-to-face meeting since he left the 'Rings' shoot. Viggo had been in England as part of a press junket and suggested a quiet drink. For some reason Sean was anxious about seeing Viggo, but offered to meet in a pub he occasionally frequented.
Sean had been sitting in the pub for almost an hour; he had arrived early even though he knew he would have to wait. Being a weeknight, the pub was relatively quiet, but Sean still made his way to a table hidden in the back corner. He sat silently and watching the comings and goings at the bar; nursing the same beer, his knee bounced slightly; the only outward sign of his anxiety at meeting up with his old friend.
When Viggo finally came in, late of course, he didn't immediately see Sean and stood just inside the doorway casting his gaze around the room. Sean had seen recent photos of him doing "Hidalgo", but the change in Viggo was still a surprise; until Viggo saw him ... Sean knew that wide crinkled smile and those eyes, he knew those eyes. Sean stood up and Viggo wrapped his arms around him; Sean had missed the feel of Viggo's strength. But that was years ago on a closed set in another country. Sean pulled back and motioned for Viggo to sit, signalling the waitress to bring over a couple more beers.
He sat at the small table, far too aware of Viggo's legs as they brushed lightly against his. Viggo's close proximity sparked physical memories that Sean had spent a long time suppressing. He looked into Viggo's eyes and could taste the soft warm leather of the fingerless glove and could feel the weight of Viggo's heavy cock on his tongue.
"Been a long time Sean," Viggo said. For a split second Sean was sure Viggo knew what he was thinking and fought hard to stop a blush.
"Yeah, too fucking long mate," Sean replied dropping his eyes to his beer glass. Neither spoke for a minute until Sean gulped a mouthful and asked, "So how is Henry doing?"
Back on safe territory they swapped stories about their children for several minutes ... then the first of the fans came over. After that they came in a steady stream; word had gotten out that the King and his Steward were together. Both men smiled and signed autographs politely, but the crowd continued to grow. Sean excused himself and quickly asked the barman to call them a taxi. They knew they had to leave; a quiet drink in a darkened pub just wasn't an option anymore.
By the time the taxi arrived they were surrounded by fans who wanted nothing more than the briefest moment and maybe an autograph or a photo, but there were too many now. With numerous apologies and regretful smiles they all but tumbled into the sanctuary of the black cab. Sean asked Viggo where he was staying and gave the cab driver the hotel name.
"Long way from Molly Malone's," Viggo commented sadly.
"Yeah," Sean agreed remembering the corner pub in which they had so many good times in Wellington.
Viggo clenched his jaw turned away to look out the window, he suggested quietly, "You could always come up to my room Sean."
It wasn't until the cab drew up in front of the hotel that Sean knew his answer, "I don't think that would be a good idea Viggo ... maybe we could catch up for a drink next time I'm in LA?"
Viggo didn't meet his eyes; he simply nodded and got out of the cab. Sean sat and watched Viggo walk towards the lobby entrance only to be stopped, yet again, for an autograph. Viggo smiled, signed the proffered book and posed for a photo. His eyes briefly flicked towards the cab before he turned and walked through the glass doors into the chrome and glass filled lobby.
Sean saw all of this and felt like a total bastard. As the light filtered through the hotel curtains, Sean still lay awake ... but he had made a decision.
~*~
Sean's agent gave him another look when once again he missed what she was saying. He had spent the entire meeting fidgeting with the travel bag wedged between his feet and glancing at the clock. Finally, he said to her, "Look ... I really have to go, you know the sort of press stuff I will and won't do ... I'll call you tomorrow." With that said he quickly stood up, grabbed his bag and bolted for the door.
An hour later he was stuffing his bag into an already overburdened overhead locker on a cross-country flight.
He closed his eyes and settled back into the seat waiting for the flight drink's service to begin with the thought, Ah Vig, you better understand what I am going through for you.
The flight was relatively quick and turbulence free, but the landing still set Sean's nerves on edge. He was further rattled when he walked into the terminal to find total chaos. Several flights had landed at once so the airport was jam packed with people all seemingly headed for the transportation area. He eyed the queue at the cab rank and briefly contemplated hiring a car, but knew his on flight indulgence ruled out driving. He groaned and tagged on the end of the queue.
It was almost an hour and a half before the cab pulled into the slipway in front of The Intercontinental. Sean paid the driver and stepped. He looked up at the modern faa33;ade of the hotel, all glass and chrome again ... it seemed wrong that Viggo was here.
Sean approached the front desk and asked a rather officious looking young man for Viggo Mortensen's room number. After giving Sean a doubtful look he keyed in the name and then with an expression bordering on smug said, "Sorry there is no-one by that name here."
"Look again," Sean ordered refusing to give ground. The man's fingers didn't move toward the keyboard, "I am sorry Sir there is no-one here by that name."
Feeling frustrated at coming this far only to be put off by a fucking desk clerk, Sean clenched his jaw and started to run through possible pseudonyms; some character names; others artists. It only took five tries before he had a hit ... Blake, Mr V Blake is in room 726.
Fuck, I look a bloody state, Sean grimaced running his fingers through his hair in the smoky mirror of the elevator. He was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time the light lit up the seven. Sean started to feel more and more anxious as he counted down the door numbers, What if he went out for a meal? 720 ... 722 ... 724... He pressed his palm against the slick gloss paint of his door, 726 ... please be in there Vig.
Someone was in there. He heard a faint noise, a moan ... Fuck, he's not on his own. Sean felt vaguely sick and more than a little foolish; why did he assume that Viggo wouldn't be 'celebrating' his birthday with someone? He took a step back from the door, he could book a room and fly back in the morning, Viggo would never know ... then he heard his name, "Oh God ... Sean."
Sean's heart skipped a beat at the groaned words and his cock twitched imagining the sight on the other side of the door. He knocked ... there was no answer, but the room became silent. Sean grinned, he knew Viggo's avoidance tactics all too well. He pulled the bottle of scotch out of his bag, knocked again and called out, "I know you're in there ... open the door you daft bugger, your Steward awaits. "
Summary: A companion piece to "Just Another Day" -- from Sean's point of view.
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 2355 Read: 872
Published: 17 Aug 2009 Updated: 17 Aug 2009