It was late when Sean got back, later than usual because he had been to the pub with friends visiting from Essex. The security desk was empty, and Sean only glanced around briefly for McCarthy before continuing on his way to the lift lobby. Three months in LA, and Sean couldn't believe that one of his closest mates was the security guard who worked at the apartment building Sean lived in. Still, McCarthy was a hearty man who seemed genuinely intent on ensuring Sean got settled down nicely in LA. Probably back early tonight to spend time with the missus, he thought. Pressing the button for the lift, he stood back with a yawn, thinking about the amount of the work to be done tomorrow morning.
When the lift arrived with a 'ding', Sean stepped inside and automatically reached out to jab the DOOR CLOSE button, but he had not expected someone behind him and jammed the doors just as they were closing on the stranger. The man looked stunned, struggling to hang on to his bags of groceries while Sean apologised profusely. "Christ, sorry mate, didn't see you."
"S'alright." The man smiled easily at him and stepped inside the lift. "Five, please."
"Sure." Sean glanced at the man, who had his nose buried in his groceries at the moment, inspecting them for any damage. He still felt slightly guilty, even though it was an honest mistake. And besides, it was the bloke's fault for being so stealthy, right? Sean would never sneak up on a stranger like that, always announcing his presence with a cough or a shuffle.
He discreetly turned sideways to get a look at the man again, who by now seemed completely oblivious to Sean's presence in the lift and was humming a little tune under his breath. God, the bloke can't sing either, Sean thought with a wince. He turned back to gaze up at the numbers, accustomed to the lift's slow ascent. One of the drawbacks of living in an old building, he supposed.
"You're late today." Surprised, Sean turned to look at the man, who was staring clearly at him. It was more a statement than a question. For a minute, Sean wondered if that was an indirect reference to him reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke.
"Yeah, I were out with some mates." Sean smiled at the man out of friendliness, but the man merely nodded back. His eyes flicked up to look at the number display, and Sean took that to mean it was the end of their too-short conversation.
But the man spoke again. "Yeah? You're usually back around 7 or 8."
Sean was now extremely curious, wondering how the man was privy to all this information. Already his mind was racing to remember if he had met this bloke before, but he was quite sure he hadn't. He smiled politely but curiously at the man, tilting his head a little. "Sorry mate, we met before?"
The man grinned at him, a fascinating affair that sort of drew his lips in, displaying a lot of teeth. "No, not really."
Sean was about to ask more when the lift sounded another 'ding', announcing its arrival at the fifth floor. The man seemed to take no notice of Sean's confusion, nodding to him instead and walked out casually with his groceries in hand, still humming the odd little tune.
As the doors closed on a stunned Sean, his only thought was God, but the bloke really can't sing.
~
"Psychos?"
"Yeah. Odd folk, mental patients and the like."
McCarthy screwed up his face in his effort to think, finally shaking his head. "I really don't think so, not to my knowledge."
Sean was persistent. "Anybody odd on the fifth floor?"
Silence as McCarthy thought hard for a few more minutes. He looked just as confused as Sean when he finally shook his head again. "Nope, I really don't think there are any crazy people living here," he said carefully. "Maybe it was a stranger. Or a boyfriend staying over with one of the girls." Then he grinned broadly. "Or one of the boys."
"Hmmmn." Sean looked thoughtful, going over the possibilities. He was quite certain the man wasn't a random visitor. He probably lived in this building too, what with the amount of groceries he had been carrying. Still, it didn't seem like he was going to get his answer anytime soon. "Well, thanks for your help, Roddy."
"Anytime." McCarthy looked serious now. "Hey. If anyone's buggin' ya, let me know, okay?"
Sean laughed. "Hardly doubt it, the bloke seems harmless." He glanced at his watch, thinking he still had some time before he could call his girls. "Listen, 'm going across the road to get some Chinese. You want any?"
McCarthy laughed his famous hearty laugh. "Sure man, who could turn down Wong's?" He sat back and consulted his mental menu. "Some eggroll, maybe some sweet and sour chicken."
"Sure, won't be a tick."
It didn't take long for Sean to get the food, as Wong's wasn't so crowded as it usually was at dinnertime. He ran back across the road, walking towards the apartment building with the delicious-smelling, steaming cartons, still mentally going over what McCarthy had said. A visiting boyfriend? Maybe. Besides, why was Sean allowing this bloke to get his knickers in a twist anyway? So he knew what time Sean regularly got home everyday. Big bloody deal.
However, for some reason, he felt compelled to simply look up at that moment, and his eyes travelled upwards over the rows of windows before stopping at the fifth floor, where a now familiar face was grinning at him from the window. He waved down at Sean who could only gawk back, then the man turned his attention to something large and white by the window.
Curious, Sean craned his neck to get a better look, to try and see what it could possibly be. His eyesight wasn't what it used to be, but it was still quite keen. Realisation dawned on him when he saw a splash of colour run down the large white object, which was most probably a canvas.
"Bloke's an artist," Sean murmured to himself, and didn't look surprised at all when Priscilla, his neighbour, walked past him and greeted him cheerfully, then she spotted the man waving out of the window and gave him a huge smile of recognition and a wave in return.
~
For the next few weeks, Sean made an effort to remind himself to look up at the fifth floor whenever he arrived home. On a few occasions he managed to remember to do so, and was never disappointed. The man was always there, watching Sean intently, his long, golden hair billowing in the LA breeze, always with a wave and that crooked smile of his. Sean felt perturbed yet oddly fascinated by it, and even more so with its owner. "Viggo!" McCarthy had announced with glee once he understood who Sean was referring to. "Him? Harmless as a fly, I can tell ya that. Very gentlemanly, very polite. Always holds the door open for the ladies."
Still, didn't this Viggo bloke have to work, regardless of whether he was gentlemanly to a fault? Maybe he lived off his art, Sean reasoned, which was something entirely impossible back home in Sheffie. The fifth floor was too far up anyway, to get a proper look at what Viggo always seemed to be painting, but it was close enough for Sean to get a glimpse now and then.
He wondered if he would ever bump into Viggo again at the lift, aching for a chance to ask more questions, perhaps make a new friend. He didn't have many here, not since Abby left him and moved to New York. Viggo seemed his age, and maybe they might have something in common.
Or, Sean reminded himself, the bloke could be a complete nutter like you predicted, and you'd be horribly disappointed.
Pressing the button for the lift, he was rocking gently on the balls of his feet, swaying to the soothing Holtz streaming out of McCarthy's scratchy radio. Momentarily priding himself on having introduced McCarthy to classical music, Sean hummed along with the music, drumming his fingers on his briefcase, relieved when the lift finally arrived.
He should have not been so surprised the second time around, but Viggo was there behind him again, sans groceries this time. He smiled easily at Sean as he stepped in. "Five...but I think you already know that."
"Um...yeah." Sean's heart was racing – what the bloody hell? – as he reached out and pressed the buttons. Only this time, Viggo was standing much closer to him. Not obscenely close, because Sean still had space to turn, but if he turned and leaned forward just a tad, his nose would be buried in Viggo's hair.
"You're late again today." Matter-of-factly, with another easy, genuine smile. Sean could hardly find the grace to be annoyed.
"Yeah, been working late at the office. Me boss kept me back."
Sean waited to see if Viggo would ask him where he worked and what he did for a living, but he didn't. Which rather exasperated Sean, because it meant that he couldn't in turn ask what Viggo did for a living. Painting? Stalking the apartment building's tenants? Strangely enough, no one else seemed perturbed by Viggo and his strange habit of watching the tenants leaving and entering the building. Sean began to wonder if it meant there was something wrong with them, or with him.
He turned to Viggo, only to find the other man gazing at him closely, as though he was assessing Sean. He seemed to nod in satisfaction and stood back a bit, murmuring, "Tourmaline...light tourmaline."
Sean stared at Viggo, his mouth open. "Eh? What? Tor-wha?"
Viggo grinned at him, and that one gesture seemed to change the entire sinister air hanging over the artist, illuminating his eyes and broadening his narrow cheeks and basically radiating an open air of happiness and wonder and – fuck, Sean hadn't stopped by a pub on his way home by any chance, had he?
The lift announced its arrival at the fifth floor with a 'ding' and Sean could swear that Viggo's smile grew a bit sadder. "See you around."
Sean fought to make his mouth work, to say something, but he was still fighting the webs of intrigue and fascination. All he could do was stare at Viggo, who turned slightly and began striding out of the lift.
Sean was hyperaware of the way Viggo's hand brushed against his lingeringly, before he stepped out of the lift, disappearing down the corridor, a gentle, golden ghost.
~
After that, Sean began to feel like he was the one doing the stalking and the watching instead. He just couldn't get the bloke out of his head, remembering how he had smelled and looked like in the lift, in such close proximity. It was probably madness to be so obsessed over somebody he had barely met twice [he didn't consider their daily smile-and-wave-from-the-window a proper meeting], but Sean didn't care. For once, he couldn't be bothered about sanity, attracted only to its nemesis. Because that was where Viggo dwelt.
He tried everything: returning home at later hours, hanging around in the lobby to chat with McCarthy, even coming back early a few times to see if he could catch Viggo outside of his element. Nothing worked, and even the daily sightings of Viggo by his window had ceased, much to Sean's disappointment. He had tried asking McCarthy a bit about Viggo's background, but it seemed that no one really knew much about him.
"I know the guy's got a wife and kid," said McCarthy, and when Sean's face fell, he added, "Divorced, though. He pretty much lives alone, although his kid sees him pretty often."
"Hmmmn." Sean wondered whether it was any use pretending that he didn't care anymore, not when he was being so obvious even to McCarthy. "Hadn't seen Viggo around lately."
"Yeah, come to think of it, you're right," agreed McCarthy, and Sean tried not to look disappointed that the security officer didn't know the reason behind Viggo's absence either. "Wonder where he went to."
"Maybe he's setting up an art show or something," suggested Sean with a shrug. "Er, after all, bloke does paint a lot."
"Maybe." McCarthy turned up his radio at the moment to listen to the broadcast of the Lakers game, and Sean slipped into silence. It was disheartening to see the dark apartment window after a month of waving up to that friendly face and his elusive canvas.
For the millionth time that week, Sean longed for sanity again.
~
He wasn't even supposed to be home in the afternoon, but the presentation to the clients had gone so well that morning that Mr. Rodriguez-Lopez had given him the rest of the day off. Having been up most of the night to prepare for it, Sean slumped against the wall of the lift lobby as he waited for the lift to descend, looking forward to a hot bath and maybe, if he was lucky, a Premiership match, if ESPN wasn't showing Russian ice-skating.
The lift doors slid open and he trudged in, about to press the DOOR CLOSE button when someone stepped in, reaching over and pressing it for him. Sean's eyes widened as they settled on Viggo, craving the familiar curve of his shoulders, the smile-induced crinkles at the corner of his blue, blue eyes.
"Where you been?" Sean's voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat hurriedly, staring at Viggo.
"Topanga Canyon." The soft drawl was music to Sean's ears, and he didn't show how he ached to hear more. "Went to spend time with my son."
"Oh." Sean blinked, remembering the estranged wife and son McCarthy had told him about. "Was...wondering where you've been."
"Really?" The grin that lit up Viggo's face could only be described as beautiful. "Missed me stalking you, huh?"
It really wasn't all that funny, but Sean threw his head back and laughed, letting go of all the tension and worry of the past week. When he glanced at Viggo again he noticed that he was much nearer. This time, Sean didn't have to lean forward; his nose was already buried in Viggo's hair.
"Oh," and "Ohhhhh," as Viggo turned his head gently to press a kiss to Sean's cheek, his long, elegant nose gliding along Sean's skin before stopping at under Sean's ear, where he placed a few more kisses. Both men probably were not even aware of Sean's briefcase hitting the floor as Sean arched his neck up for Viggo, aching for a kiss which Viggo gladly supplied, sucking on the point where Sean's shoulder met his neck. "Ahhh Christ, fuck-"
"Been wanting to taste you," Viggo murmured breathily against his neck. "For so long. You taste so fucking good." Viggo lifted his head so he was facing Sean eye-to-eye, his lips moist and begging to be kissed. "Better than I imagined."
The thought of Viggo fantasising about him was more than enough to make Sean close the distance between them, licking at Viggo's lips. As they parted willingly for him, he slid his tongue in with a moan, not being able to get enough of that clean, woodsy taste and those soft, wet lips. He could feel Viggo's hands reaching up to cradle his face, and in turn his hand slid behind to massage the nape of Viggo's neck, bringing him closer to deepen their dizzying kiss.
The lift took that most inopportune moment to sound a 'ding', announcing their arrival at the fifth floor, and Viggo reluctantly broke apart, his eyes blazing at Sean. Taking Sean's arm firmly, he growled, "I'm not letting you go upstairs," and Sean was only too happy to acquiesce, letting Viggo tug him out of the lift and down the dark corridor he had watched Viggo disappear into the last few times.
They stumbled along in the dark until Viggo stopped him with a hand on his chest, murmuring, "My apartment is here." His other hand was searching for the key while Sean took the hand on his chest and brought it up to his lips, placing soft kisses along the tanned wrist. Viggo's eyes widened as he watched Sean nuzzling the sensitive area, and then his eyes suddenly narrowed as he yanked Sean into the apartment, a whirlwind of blue intensity and tousled gold. Once he kicked the door closed, he turned to Sean, slamming him against the doorway and their mouths crushed together in another needy, intense kiss.
Sean had imagined that Viggo would be wild and unpredictable like an animal, ripping the clothes off his victim and going straight in for the kill, but instead Viggo's brown, callused hands were gentle, exploring. Sean could feel them sliding underneath his shirt, caressing his stomach gently before gliding upwards over his hardened nipples. He watched in fascination and growing arousal as Viggo tugged gently at them, then leaned forward and placed his mouth over them, sucking on them through the fabric. Sean threw his head back with another moan, hands tangling in Viggo's hair as he lavished equal attention to each nipple, his mouth bruised and red when he finally lifted his head. He grinned at Sean as they came face-to-face again, leaning in close but not quite.
"What're you doing?" Sean's voice was breathless and so low that it was almost unrecognisable, and Viggo only answered with a lick of Sean's nose – God, the bloke's tongue was long – and his hands emerged from under Sean's shirt, sliding under the waistband of his trousers this time.
"Ever done this before?" Viggo was so close that his normally low drawl was deafening, but Sean didn't care. Bloody hell, he could get off on that voice alone. He shook his head uncertainly, remembering a few handjobs when he was younger but he hadn't quite gone the full stretch yet. "Good. Wanna be your first."
"Fuck." Whichever train of thought that was going through Sean's head at the moment instantly derailed as Viggo's rough, callused fingers wrapped around his cock. "Oh God....Jesus..."
Viggo's mouth was still inches away from his own, and Sean was dying for a kiss. His hands were threading through Viggo's fine, blonde hair, tugging him forward, but Viggo resisted with another grin. "What do you want, Sean?"
"Kiss me."
"You'll have to earn it." Viggo's grip around his cock tightened, and Sean mewled as Viggo's thumb swept over the tip of his erection. "C'mon Sean, get what you want."
Sean growled as he simultaneously arched up into Viggo's grip and raised his knee, parting Viggo's legs and rubbing it against his crotch, eliciting a low, desperate moan from Viggo. "Christ Sean, that's it…"
"Kiss me." Sean took advantage of Viggo's temporary blackout to capture his bottom lip, sucking on it with a breathless moan as Viggo's hand began to move up and down on his leaking cock. Their mouths finally met again in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss that Sean felt was almost enough to make him come.
"Fuck." Viggo's hips arched up towards Sean's knee, begging for more pressure, and Sean happily obliged. He groaned at the loss of Viggo's mouth as he slid down Sean, paying homage to his damp nipples again before sliding down further, a positively wicked look in his eyes as he unbuckled Sean's belt, pulling down his zipper and taking Sean's erection firmly in hand, staring at it intensely.
"For fuck's sake Viggo," said Sean through gritted teeth. "You're going to kill me."
"How?" Viggo now looked innocent, his hand stroking the base of Sean's cock, his mouth so close that Sean could feel his warm breath. His hips arched forward of their own volition, letting Sean rub the head of his cock against Viggo's lips. God, he was really going to come here and now if-
Viggo's lips parted, allowing Sean's cock to slide in, and he thought he was going to die from the slick feeling of that warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. His brain was currently capable of giving only one directive now, and he thrusted into Viggo's mouth with increasing speed, hands tangled in Viggo's hair, and he could feel his climax building at the base of his spine, building, building-
When Viggo hummed around his cock, Sean's head jerked back and hit the wall as he came, fingers tightening in Viggo's hair as semen flooded down Viggo's throat. Viggo didn't let go even after Sean was done, pressing gentle kisses against his wilting erection, making his cock twitch even then. As Viggo stood up, his hands stroking up and down Sean's trembling arms, Sean's cock twitched again at the sight of Viggo's own erection still encased in his jeans, a damp spot clearly marked near the zipper.
"Fuck me," said Sean, and Viggo was laughing and still caressing him, and in the end Sean was the one who yanked them both inside, not caring whether he knew where the bed is.
~
As Sean pushed aside his dinner plate, smoking a cigarette while Viggo washed up in the kitchen, he wondered whether he was simply imagining things, or if Viggo was indeed starting to behave strangely. It had been a good but odd four months, not really a relationship, but not just friends fucking occasionally either – they did it too often for that. They did talk a lot, mostly after sex, while Sean was still in a Viggo-induced haze and listening as Viggo talked about art, his son, his ex-wife, crooked Californian politicians, Picasso, whatever. In turn Sean told him about his girls, about why it's so hard for the Blades to get into the premiership and growing bonsai trees.
One thing that always bothered Sean was that Viggo never stayed over at his place, and as a result, Sean no longer asked if he could spend the night too at Viggo's. He began to fear that it was entirely possible that the emotional balance in this strange relationship could be a little one-sided. Viggo with all his half-finished artwork and photographs of swimming pools and poetry written on the back of napkins from Wong's dragged Sean into a world that was so insane and so different, yet so familiar, because there were always those knowing, trusting eyes to guide him, like what the Southern Cross was to sailors of yore.
Ever since that minor scare when Viggo went to visit Henry, Sean realised he had been living in fear of coming home one day and seeing that apartment dark and empty again. Sean now had the key to Viggo's place, even though Viggo had made him go down and collect it from McCarthy personally, just to see the knowing smirk on the security officer's face. Still, him having a copy of the key didn't mean he could prevent Viggo from leaving if he wanted to. Viggo seemed like a restless spirit, always people-watching and noting down their little idiosyncrasies, but never his own.
Still, ever since he started seeing Sean, Viggo seemed to be a little less restless, and often Sean walked in and caught Viggo staring out of the window, deep in thought. It worried him a little, but he simply put it down to one of Viggo's endless quirks. It would be the end of him if he ever allowed any or all of them to get to him.
~
There was something already strange in the air as Sean walked back from the office, tossing his keys in the air and whistling in an effort to be nonchalant and casual. He sort of sensed it when McCarthy wasn't at the desk once more, but he brushed it off to an early shift, getting into the lift and smiling again at the memory of Viggo closing in on him, noses brushing, a smile buried against his throat.
He got off at the fifth floor as usual, thinking he would see whether Viggo had any plans for tonight before he would head up to his own apartment for a shower and to prepare dinner. He wanted to surprise Viggo this time, make him stay for dinner, and hopefully, stay the night as well. He couldn't quite put his finger on when he had wanted this to develop into something more, to give in to the tornado of emotions threatening to sweep over into his life.
Again, he sensed something wrong as he approached Viggo's apartment, keys already out, his steps slowing down. As he got closer, he noticed that the door was ajar, and his heart was beating so fast as he pushed open the door, revealing an empty, bare apartment.
Blinking, Sean walked into the apartment, his steps echoing in the empty studio apartment as he looked around in despair. No artwork, no photographs, not even the scribblings on the wall that Viggo was so protective of. The curtains were all that were left, swaying gently in the breeze that blew in through the open windows. Every piece of furniture was gone, from the broken down rattan chair in his living room (broken because he had once straddled Viggo in it) to the bizarre metal dustbin with the image of an enraged Godzilla printed on it. Sean's hands were shaking as he reached out to brush his fingers against the wall, as though he was trying to absorb the memories of this place one last time.
"Why?" he asked the walls, and they remained silent. Maybe Viggo had decided to go and live with his son for good. Or maybe they had offered him one of those photography assignments in another state. Whatever it was, Sean didn't want to think about it just now, walking quickly out of the empty apartment before it could swallow him whole.
That was the life of Sean Bean. Whenever he decided he was in love, the other person always had to leave or divorce him. Maybe it was a lesson that he was picking the wrong people, or investing too much emotion in something that wasn't meant to be more than what it actually was.
Sean barely realised it when the lift arrived at his floor, staring morosely at the rows of buttons instead, the '5' button in particular. He trudged out of the lift, willing himself to stay under control. For fuck's sake, you're a man, Bean. His hand trembled again as it reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. However, as he turned around the corner, he dropped those keys, gawking at his apartment. Or rather, the ensemble of furniture outside his door, with an oblivious Viggo sitting in the broken rattan chair, head bowed, absorbed in a Yeats book.
He looked up as Sean approached the crowded hallway, which was filled with mostly giant canvases and a few choice pieces of furniture, and grinned at him. "You forgot to give me your key, you idiot."
Sean could only stare at him, alternating between wanting to punch him and to straddle him in that chair again and snog him senseless. But as Viggo began moving his art pieces so that Sean could get to the door, chatting away about how McCarthy was good enough to help him find a new tenant and throw away his old furniture, Sean could only listen with half a ear, grinning at Viggo who was singing some Sinatra song, pulling Sean to him, both of them doing a bizarre form of tango amidst the strange collection of furniture.
God, Sean thought, laughing as Viggo dipped him and wiggled his eyebrows, but the bloke really can't sing.
Summary: What would happen if we kiss?
Rated: R
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: AUChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 4631 Read: 982
Published: 01 Aug 2009 Updated: 01 Aug 2009