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Summary: Dark and light, ink and skin.

Rated: PG-13

Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo

Warnings: None

Challenges:

Series: None

Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes

Word count: 1063 Read: 866

Published: 17 Aug 2009 Updated: 17 Aug 2009

Orlando, Elijah, Dominic and Billy tumbled into the house. They dashed through the hallway, forgetting to close the door. The sun streamed through the opening behind them, but all the same, one hand habitually trailing along the wall, Elijah flipped on the light switch as he stumbled by. The fluorescent overheads flickered once, twice, before fluttering to life. Orlando and Elijah reached the living room first, almost tripping over each other in their rush to get to the phone. Orlando, fighting dirty, poked Elijah just below his hipbone.

"Fuck!" Elijah doubled over, stopped in his tracks. One arm flew out to find support against the white walls, the shadow of his fingers eclipsing the harsh shine for a moment before melding with it.

Triumphant, Orlando grabbed the handset and punched in the number with great satisfaction. The other end rang for what seemed an interminable amount of time, the sound tinny and small.

Elijah, fully recovered, took the final few steps which brought him within reach. He gripped the handset, already cradled next to Orlando's ear, and struggled against the taller man's strength.

Orlando pushed him away with his free hand. "Shh! He's answering!" It sounded like someone was fumbling with the receiver. "We got them, Bean! It hurt like a bitch, but we all did it, mate!" Orlando snickered, pleasure burning fiercely on his face. "You didn't tell us it would hurt so much!"

A fuzzy, slightly incoherent reply wound its long way down the wire.

Sean and Viggo wandered into the foyer. Sean stopped to carefully close and lock the door against the brightness before joining everyone in the front room. "Who in God's name...?" He looked at the four men clustered around the phone. "You didn't. Do you have any idea what time it is in Britain?"

Dominic smiled and waved Sean off, one finger at his lips.

"...and Sean on his ankle. Something about 'Hobbit Pride', he said. And Elijah," Elijah grabbed at the phone again, "Elijah screamed like a girl. Hey!" The handset was finally wrenched out of Orlando's grasp.

"Hey man, did we wake you?" Elijah paused, listening but not believing Bean's answer. "We got the tats. You'll have to get one too now." He opened his mouth to say more, but a pounding on the front door interrupted him. "John's taking us out for drinks to celebrate."

The booming voice of Gimli's own rumbled down the hallway, calling the companions to his side. "Ian will be meeting us there! We must not keep the Wizard waiting!"

"We should go. You're next, ok? We'll talk to you later." Elijah moved to hang up the phone when Viggo put a hand on his elbow.

"I'll catch up with you later," he said, taking hold of the receiver. "Go on and tell the others."

Elijah shrugged, waved, and ran.

Once he was alone, Viggo placed the phone against his ear. "Hey."

"Hey."

"They told you."

"Yes."

"They woke you."

"Yes."

"I'll have to show you mine."

"Yes."

"Maybe we can compare?" Viggo wondered what Sean's tattoo would look like in black and white, drained even of pale skin tones. Would it look starker? What would it look like in full sunlight, ink on flushed, warm skin?

He licked his lips.

There were worse things to examine in the harsh light of day.

***


The phone screamed in the darkness, jangling Sean into wakefulness. Momentarily caught between sleep and waking, a sharp stab of panic shot through his body. He groped for the phone and his wits, knocking over a glass of water on the night table in the process. Fuck.

After a small fumble he managed to guide the receiver to his ear.

"We got them, Bean! It hurt like a bitch, but we all did it, mate!" There was a laugh. "You didn't tell us it would hurt so much!"

Sean winced as the rush of words hit his ear, the warm dampness of the night lying heavily across his brow. He mumbled something he hoped would do as an affirmative, and rolled over to look at the clock. The digital numbers glowed like blood, dim and fuzzy in Sean's sleep-laden haze.

Who the hell would call him at this hour?

He flopped onto his back, the covers twisting over his torso. Soft light filtered in through the curtains, caressing the sheets. Clutching the phone to his ear, he threw a muscled arm over his eyes, blocking out the subtly invading light. The voice pounded in his ear, sending a shower of sparks flying behind Sean's eyelids. Oh. Orlando. The boy always seemed to be made of fire. He babbled on; something about locations and... and what? Sean tried to think back to the beginning of the conversation, but the blackness was weighing him down. He moved his arm, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the faint gradations of moonlight sliding across his bare chest.

"...a girl. Hey!" Sean heard some scrabbling, and then a new voice issued from the other end of the line.

"Hey man, did we wake you?"

"Elijah. Hi. No, no, you didn't." It was the first sentence Sean had managed to string together in the conversation.

"We got the tats."

Ah. The tattoos.

"You'll have to get one too now." There was a pause, and Sean could hear a muffled thumping and then strains of conversation behind Elijah. "John's taking us out for drinks to celebrate. We should go. You're next, ok? We'll talk to you later."

"Sure." Sensing that the rather senseless phone call was coming to an end, Sean relaxed. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to go back to sleep.

Instead of a dial tone, Sean heard something cover the receiver. Another voice mumbled in the background.

He groaned. What now?

A familiar, welcome voice slid down the line. "Hey."

Viggo. Well, I'll be damned. "Hey."

"They told you."

"Yes."

"They woke you."

Momentarily, he considered a more polite reply. "Yes."

"I'll have to show you mine."

"Yes." Oh God, yes.

"Maybe we can compare?"

Sean smiled and wondered if he would be able to see Viggo's tattoo in the dark. Would it shine, luminous, against the blackness? Or would Sean have to tongue it, lap up its shape and texture against a background of dusk and salt and sweat?

He grinned.

There were worse ways to see in the dark.