Summary: Ian is determined to play matchmaker for his friends Viggo and Sean. He enlists the help of his friend Dave.

Rated: NC-17

Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo/OC

Warnings: AU, Kink

Challenges:

Series: Novice Chronicles

Chapters: 15 Completed: Yes

Word count: 58509 Read: 83730

Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009

Saturday, May 27, 1:17 p.m.:

Dave thanks the waiter for refilling the little milk jug for the third time, entirely missing the longing looks sent his way, while silently mourning the fact that it has been impossible so far to get a really decent cup of tea at an American cafe. On the positive side, the late spring tides have brought to Saint Arquette long, fine days of gratifying surf, lunch has been decadent to the point of likely having been written up under its own Things Not To Do heading in a medical journal somewhere, and Ian is treating.

"Viggo will insist he's no use for romance," Ian warns Dave, "but I have it on the man's own drunken authority that he's lonely. I know in my bones his continued singlehood is an offense against a benign cosmos."

Dave smiles, soft-spoken Aussie accent making the long-suffering waiter sigh with hopeless infatuation. "'Singlehood'? Is that a real word?"

Ian snorts elegantly, but otherwise ignores the younger man's impertinence. "Gentle, but intense, our Viggo. Perhaps more than most can manage."

"Why do I worry that 'intense' is your way of warning me he's a raving eccentric?"

Ian tsks. "He loves poetry, loves art, has made it his mission to mentor the young. Is that so terrible? One day he leads his classes into the mountains to get a shift of perspective and has to be reminded to bring them back, rather than continue to drive until they hit Las Vegas. Perhaps he forgets to put on his shoes. What of it? Students adapt. Viggo keeps them thinking." Ian sighs, realizing he's edging toward ranting. "You see, after too many years of one romantic disaster after another, Viggo has finally become rather tired, as he puts it, of finding himself sitting alone in his living room in the dark, half-pissed and emotionally shredded."

Dave sips at his never-hot-enough tea. "So he's abandoned the whole notion."

"Trust no one," Ian laments. His blue eyes darken. "His past has at certain times been difficult. There was one unlucky relationship in particular... Well. He's got his charming parents and a doting brother, and his little circle of devotees such as myself, and he's standing firm with us. No one else is allowed too close. Safer that way."

"Lonely in the small hours though," Dave repeats the Englishman's earlier conviction.

Ian regards the bottom of his empty coffee cup sadly, then meets his companion's sympathetic gaze. "He has stopped spontaneously kissing people, David. Proof that the cosmos has tilted in the wrong direction. All the years I have known him--even from a half-starved teenager at UCLA--Viggo has been a physically expressive person. Kisses people when he's happy. Male, female, doesn't matter. Not students of course, he's never been that far gone, but in a world where people seem to be drawing further and further from one another, Viggo has always been the one to grab you in the hallway and plant a smart one, just for the sheer joy of seeing you. Doesn't do it anymore at all. Quite frankly, I miss it something dreadful."

Ian frowns at a hapless bit of brie left on his plate, fusses at it with his butter knife. "It's time someone put a stop to all this nonsense. He needs love. We all need it. Viggo is no exception."

Dave's left eyebrow rises. "You have a plan."

"I have a *man,*" Ian crows quietly. Clear blue eyes gleam as he leans forward in his enthusiasm. "The perfect one, and just as much in need. The universe has seen fit to deposit them both, romantically indigent but filled with potential at my doorstep, and I do not intend to disappoint!"

Dave chuckles. "Two fixer-uppers, then?"

"Exactly. And that, my boy, is where you and our delightful friends at the mansion come in."

"Strewth, I always thought Cupid used a bow and heart-shaped arrows to make people fall in love. When did he start using blindfolds and manacles?"

Ian snorts. "Viggo needs to learn to trust people again. Among other things. Sean needs to be jolted into a romantic boldness which, I am afraid, has never been nurtured in him. Certainly not rewarded. He needs to be taught that he is worthy. He's a perfect candidate for somebody's knight in shining armor, if you ask anyone who knows him, but so far he's had very little opportunity to properly fly his colours."

"Diamond in the rough, is he?"

Ian smiles affectionately. "Sheffield lad down to the bone--beer, football, filthy jokes in the pub. Yet he now curates the Featherstone Museum of Antiquities--"

"The one with the zillion-dollar endowments and the mummies and things?"

"The very one. Walk in on any day when he's obligated to be seen in public, and you'll believe you've stumbled over some bastard royal in blue silk Armani."

Dave snickers appreciatively. "You're saying he turns out well."

"I am saying, O Impertinent One, that our Sean is a study in contrasts. It is my belief that this is what gets him into trouble time and again. Some young idiot is smitten with the charming, shy historian--"

"Shy? What about the filthy jokes in the pub?"

Ian huffs and taps his fork on the table. "Study in contrasts. Pay attention, David! Now where was I? Ah. You see, these eager young fellows full of swoony romantic ideas are constantly finding themselves infatuated with the Sean they meet in the museum. With the Sean who loves theatre, art, music--and yes, when he dresses, always dresses beautifully. Then they come face to face with the sight of a sweaty, grass-stained lunatic tearing joyfully down the football field, and those raucous Saturday nights spent with his footie mates: there is horror, confusion, and eventually an unpleasant confrontation. Sean refuses to be ashamed of where he's from, and the end is guaranteed."

"Alone in the dark in his living room?"

"Exactly." Ian beams past Dave as though enjoying some private joke while the infatuated waiter lingers just a little, refilling his coffee cup and Dave's teapot.

"Given up on love?" Dave concludes.

Ian raises his coffee cup in salute. "You see how our path has been laid before us."

"Hmm." Dave toys thoughtfully with the remains of a grape he's spit out for being too sour. "Is it your idea to have them play together?"

Ian shakes his head. "Heavens, no! They have been recently introduced, and I believe there is something there, or I shouldn't bother, but these things can not be forced. What I want is for them to get past what's keeping them from seeking one another out. Then we'll manufacture a fortuitous circumstance to re-introduce them to one another, and let them get on with being happy, for God's sake."

Dave pushes a tatter of sun-streaked auburn hair out of his eyes and laughs. "This is a secret from them isn't it! I mean, you're not going to let the one know the other is involved in this until after it's all over."

"You say that as though deceit is a bad thing," Ian sniffs.

Dave fiddles with his teaspoon contemplatively, and Ian lets him think. He can just about hear the wheels turning in Dave's head, and he doesn't want to interrupt the process. Finally Dave asks, "How strictly do you want this set up? Serious Dom/sub, or just play it as we go?"

Ian nods, "For our purposes this need not be anything formal. They'll need a firm hand--especially Sean, I believe--but have some *fun* with the boys, David! Call it a summer camp for kink, if you will."

Dave laughs outright, and Ian grins back at him, "Help them to discover and explore aspects of themselves they've never expected--or more likely never dared acknowledge."

"You're sure all of that's really in there?"

"I am certain of it! Though Viggo..." Ian frowns. "Before he came to Saint Arquette I fear he was treated rather badly. He was in graduate school and candidacy during that time, and the relationship nearly cost him his degree. You'll want to step lightly at first with him, but Vig is ever so much stronger than he understands. He only needs a chance to see it for himself; to trust his own strength, so that he might trust others again, and..." Ian sighs mournfully, "Oh David, he's got so much to offer the right person! You have a gift for reading people. Guide Viggo, show him that what came before is not all there is!"

Dave scratches at one ear. "Hmm. You're sure I'm up to the challenge, eh? And Sean? You said he'll need the firmer hand."

Ian smiles enigmatically. "Teach him what you can."

"Oh dear," Dave chuckles. "When do you plan to present this idea to your loveless orphans?"

"After final exams, graduation, all that. It's nearly June. My own desk shortly will be stacked with unpleasant paperwork, Viggo will be enthusiastically encouraging his students to find out how many varying shades of green--or purple, etcetera--they can paint themselves or their friends, and if he's lucky one of his graduate students will remind him to get his grades in on time. *Then* we shall be free to move into action."

Dave would manage all of this for free as a favor to Ian, but this will require a heavy investment of time and energy, and he's got his own business to run. Ian appreciates that, and so the offer of compensation he made to Dave earlier today was a generous one. In a town as expensive as Saint Arquette and to a young fellow who is self-employed, every little bit helps, while Ian can afford to indulge himself. He watches with warm satisfaction as Dave smiles into a slow, thoughtful bite of fresh beignet.

"I've always fancied summer break."