Sean was hustling back to his trailer to change at the end of the day when something made him stop dead on the gravel walk and listen.
He thought, absurdly, of nature programs and the low, eerily detached voice of the narrator about to relate a wild animal's grisly demise - the wildebeest cautiously approaches the watering hole, constantly wary of predators lurking in the nearby bush - and then took a closer look at the bushes and shrubbery collected about the trailers, the trees nearby, looking for the source of his unease. He couldn't find anything, which did not reassure him, but only made the sensation keener.
Every shadow was suddenly filled with menace; the low rustle of wind in the trees made Sean's heart skip and his entire body tense. He told himself to calm down and stop being ridiculous, but his instinct - sixth sense, wildebeest sense, whatever - made prickles of nervousness dance up and down his spine, and he had the taut, tingling sensation between his shoulder blades, the kind you get when you're being watched.
Specifically, the kind you get when you're being watched by crazy people who rugbytackle you for no reason whatsoever, other than the fact they're sick, fucked-up bastards and love getting away with stuff like that.
"I know you're watching me," he said loudly, hoping he sounded fierce and imposing - and that whoever was listening didn't hear the anxious quaver in his voice. The wind whispered its reply against his neck, but it was the only answer he received other than a few birdcalls. Sean glared belligerently at the shrubbery, searching for predatory blue eyes, any sign of someone - coughViggocough - lying in wait for him. He took a cautious step forward, half-turned to inspect the other side of the walk.
He whipped back around, nearly tripping over his sword, ready to counter the attack from behind.
Empty air. Nothing.
"Come the fuck on out here," Sean commanded, straightening from his defensive crouch. "Seriously, Viggo, right the fuck now."
Nothing again. Annoyance began to replace fear. Viggo was around here somewhere, just waiting for the perfect chance to ambush Sean. He knew it, with some kind of primitive sixth sense. He knew it, goddamnit anyhow. He knew..
"Viggo's still back with PJ, Sean," said a very soft voice directly behind him.
Sean very nearly screamed. He bit down on it at the last moment, reducing it to a strangled squeak that was part terror and part pain because in biting back the scream he'd bitten his lip. The pain, however, was a small thing compared to the realization that he was very likely having a heart attack, and when he turned, he saw that Elijah was watching him have it.
"You OK, Sean?"
Sean stared wildly at Elijah for a moment, wondering why the kid wasn't calling for an ambulance, or a doctor, or a priest. It was only when his heart returned to a normal rhythm and his breathing steadied that he was able to nod dumbly and reinforce it with a weak and unconvincing "Yeah."
"OK." Elijah peered at him skeptically. He was, Sean thought with just a bit of peevishness, disgustingly young and innocent-looking, entirely untroubled by crazy, rugbytackling actors. "I heard you asking for Viggo," Elijah said, as though he hadn't just watched five years fall off of Sean's life expectancy. "He's looking over the dailies with Peter."
"Oh." Relief swept through Sean, leaving him dizzy with the sensation. That meant Viggo was a safe football-field away from him, and probably would remain so for a time - meaning Sean could change, get to his car, and get into his apartment without fear of attack
It occurred to him that he should thank Elijah for this, and he did so with probably more enthusiasm than the situation merited. Elijah looked at him a moment more, eyes dark and curious under the tumble of brown curls, and shuffled off. Sean watched him go, waved him on with a cheerful grin and shooing gesture when Elijah turned around to see why Sean was standing there, grinning like a lunatic.
Elijah vanished into his trailer and Sean decided he'd better get a move on if he wanted to beat Viggo back home (and maybe, he thought evilly, prepare an ambush of his own.)
And then.
There was no sound, no warning, only a terrific impact against his right side, a sudden and painful acquaintance with the gravel walk, a flurry of green leather and brown hair and unkempt beard. The sky tilted crazily, up and down reversed themselves - oh, God, that's going to leave a mark he thought as the pommel of his sword jabbed into his ribs - and quite before he knew it he was lying on his back, breathless with Viggo kissing him soundly on the lips before leaping up and vanishing like smoke.
A triumphant "Woo hoo!" echoed in the stillness, and then all was silent.
Sean lay there a moment, too dazed to do more than remember how to breathe properly and wonder how the hell it had happened again.
As if from a great distance he heard gravel crunching. He tensed, but the intruders turned out to be Dom and Billy, who paused over Sean's broken, battered, form and stared at him as though not quite understanding what they were seeing.
"Taking a nap, Sean?" Dom asked.
Billy: "Trip over your sword?"
"Die," Sean whispered. He could taste blood on his lip, blood and Viggo. "Die slowly. Please."
"Will do." Dom snickered, and earned a similar disturbing cackle from Billy, and the two of them stepped over Sean's body - which was, he realized, sprawled like a murder victim's corpse across the walk - and continued on their way. Sean's head sort of flopped over to the side to track their progress, and as he watched them he imagined all sorts of horrible things happening - a bomb descending from the sky, Viggo rugbytackling them so they would know what it felt like (no, he was just kidding... he didn't want Viggo jumping on anybody other than him), the earth splitting open...
Just as Sean resigned himself to spending an eternity on the gravel walk, Viggo materialized, just as silently and mysteriously as before. He bent over Sean so his head obscured the remaining light of the afternoon sun.
"Whatcha doin' down there?" he asked, face the picture of innocence behind Aragorn's beard, blue eyes limpid and clear and betraying no sign of the psychotic rugbytackler that lurked behind them.
"Plotting your death."
"Oh. Do you think you could do that in the trailer?" Viggo asked. "Or maybe at home? I'm starving."
"Right, mate." Sean held up an arm (a miraculously unbroken arm), and Viggo hauled him to his feet. They walked back to the trailer together, shoulders brushing, the picture of comradeship. Except.
"You'll pay," Sean said, leaning over to whisper the promise into Viggo's ear. "You'll pay, Mortensen."
Summary: Follow-up of sorts to "Happiness Is a Warm Rugbytackle."
Rated: G
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1170 Read: 740
Published: 06 Aug 2009 Updated: 06 Aug 2009