He is battered and bruised. He washed off the adrenaline and its temporary healing powers under the shower, low water pressure just enough for that, just enough to leave his body aching. Which is nothing new, and Viggo isn't complaining. Just like taking stock. Just like every morning when he's at home, checks the barn to see whether everything is just like always.
He is battered and bruised, hoof shapes in blue always the same no matter that the horses and rodeos change. His nameless need to get himself into that state - yes, an addiction, he's well aware of it - has been quenched again; he won't dream of bucking broncos and ache for them, won't look at his own horses through that sort of feverish blur for a while. He is tired and hungry, he longs for the burning taste of whiskey in the back of his throat, longs for the soothing taste of Sean, the soothing feeling of something of Sean in the same place. He asks himself whether everything is just like always. And it is.
Wolf raises his head as the pick up slows down in front of the truck stop. Red light reflects in black eyes and the dog looks mildly interested. Viggo's eyes try to search the parking lot, the rows and rows of slumbering giants, but he doesn't spot the one he's looking for and Wolf gets impatient.
Viggo is not worried. He's not. They were supposed to meet up here and they always do. Wolf whines quietly as Viggo's petting fingers grip the shaggy grey fur a little too tightly.
His hands smell of dog, his clothes smell of horse, but Viggo is sure that none of this is of any importance. Something else overlays it all, it feels like he is sweating out his soul, he stinks of needing Sean something desperate.
He locks up the truck, Wolf a step behind him as he walks towards, enters the diner. The dog barks exitedly, draws attention to them as the large beast acts like an overly agitated puppy, claws scrambling on the well worn cheap linoleoum as it catches Sean's scent. Neither Sean nor Viggo may show the same excited enthusiasm - a nod, a cowboy boot lightly pushing against a Doc Marten under the table as they eat. But Sean's grin around a saussage makes Viggo hide his smile behind his cup of coffee; he can't help being so figging obvious with simple happiness that they both made it.
It's a starless night and if Viggo walks a little too closely to Sean it is just so he won't lose him in the darkness. The truck next to Sean's is rocking rhythmically and Sean's low chuckle at that sounds so warm and familiar that Viggo has to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He climbs after Sean into the sleeping space behind the seats.
In the long run, Viggo reflects later (eyes closed, warm thanks to Sean's body heat), his life is ordinary, boring. The ten seconds of adrenaline rush on the back of a bucking horse don't count for nothing in the long run. His life is made up of routine, of long drives and bruises, of too little sleep and even less money, of crappy food and an alarm clock always going off at the same time.
Sean's lean, naked body presses against him, arms wrapped around him tighly not only because the confined space doesn't allow anything else. He always does that, hold Viggo, and even when Viggo's injuries make him think he's one single big bruise, it never hurts. The opposite of hurt. The opposite of thrill. Sean's breathing tells that he is asleep but his lips still nuzzle Viggo's neck and Viggo relaxes against him.
Everything just like always.
Summary: Viggo's bruised and shattered
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 637 Read: 863
Published: 29 Jul 2009 Updated: 29 Jul 2009
Story Notes:
AU