Viggo shifted, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position, crammed as he was into such a small space. He winced as his shoulder scraped against the styrofoam, biting back a hiss as his calf muscle cramped, protesting its awkward angle. He knew he hadn't been crouching for long, but it seemed an interminable amount of time trapped between worlds. At least the trolley was finally moving, each bump and rumble bringing him a little closer to his intended.
It had been a simple matter to pay Astin and Orlando off with a fiver each, get them to help him settle in, cover the cake and wheel it in at the appointed hour, clearing everyone out in their wake. And he was certain he could trust that Orlando's enthusiasm and impulsiveness would be tempered and held in check by the overearnestness of Astin, the perfect balance of eagerness and caution he needed to pull this simple trick off cleanly.
And so Viggo rumbled in dimness down the corridor, his destination a private surprise party for a very private person.
The trolley stopped abruptly, a quick knock against foam alerting Viggo that the countdown had begun. Thirty seconds... twenty-nine... twenty-eight... By now the room would be clear of all but he and Sean.
Knees protesting, joints popping, Viggo rose as he counted zero, pushing the lid off the cake, bursting upward with "Happy Birthday," on his lips and little else on his body. He smirked, eyes adjusting from giant-cake gloom to blindingly bright room and saw...
...Sean, jaw hanging open, the tips of his ears turned a mortified red, and beyond him, a full-house, cast and crew alike appraising Viggo's very own unsheathed Anduril.
Never much for hiding guilt, Dom and Billy grinned their telltale grins at Sean's side, Billy blowing Viggo a kiss as Viggo sank back into the hollowed out confection of foam and icing.
A surprise party indeed.
"Well. Anyone for cake?" Elijah's voice, surprisingly high and reedy, broke the dumbfounded silence that had settled, eliciting a chorus of half-hearted giggles from the crowd.
He was going to kill those fucking hobbits. Repeatedly.
...After he found himself a robe.
He was certain it couldn't have been more than a moment or two since he'd flashed his coworkers and friends, but each millisecond felt like an eternity. It wasn't that Viggo had issues with nudity; far from it. But he couldn't shake the image of Sean's face from his mind, the shock giving way to a growing horror, no doubt spurred on by the absurdity of the situation and the ceaseless ribbing that was sure to follow.
In fact, Viggo was sure Dom and Billy were revving up to do exactly that. They probably had a half-dozen cracks cued up already, and six more on the backburner. Viggo groaned; Sean was never going to forgive him for putting him directly in the line of fire.
Close beside the cake, someone cleared his throat. Viggo looked up, and saw familiar fingers curl over the edge, tapping almost impatiently against the foam. "I believe," Sean rumbled, his words roughly confident as they cut cleanly through the snickers and titters, "as the guest of honour, I am entitled to the first taste."
There was a pause, and then the rustle of clothes, the squeak of chairs, and the undeniable sound of a door opening and, after a long pause, closing flowed over the rim and into Viggo's hiding place.
Viggo smiled from the relative safety of hollow, frosted foam. Birthday surprises were icing and candles to a life well-lived, but Sean was the substance that made such sweetness possible. As Viggo took Sean's proffered hand, rising up to meet smiling green eyes, not another soul in sight, he reflected that having Sean was Viggo's cake, and he'd make sure he ate him too.
Summary: It was supposed to be a very private sort of surprise.
Rated: PG-13
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 641 Read: 803
Published: 19 Aug 2009 Updated: 19 Aug 2009