moldava: (Sean smile)
[personal profile] moldava
A special man, the kind of man who is not getting older but keeps getting hotter (and we know who this is, don't we?!) deserves a special effort.
So despite my general absence (I do hover and lurk, though), I've made an effort and finished a ficlet I've had lying around for some time.

Hope you enjoy it.



Title: Moleskin
Author: [livejournal.com profile] moldava
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: they guys are not mine, regretfully
Notes: Moleskins are notebooks covered in soft black oilcloth and closed with a rubber band made famous by writer Bruce Chatwin. The concept of writing in one's diary 'I am going to make xxx fall in love' and showing it to xxx is copied from an episode in the life of Ernesto Che Guevara.


"Hey, one of these days you're going to show me what the hell you always manage to find to write on that fancy notebook of yours..."

As he speaks Sean drops down on the grass by Viggo's side under a shady, massive oak. The air is fresh and cool under its branches, a welcome relief from the sauna effect his Gondorian costume is producing.

Viggo looks up and smiles, his eyes glinting in the gold-green shade, but he shuts the moleskin notebook protectively and snaps close its elastic band.

"Well, I would, but you wouldn't be able to make anything out of it. I mostly write in Spanish. It' sort of a secret language for me, it became that when my parents moved back to the States from South America," he explains quietly, reaching for the bottle of water at his side and offering it to Sean, who looks flushed and sweaty.

"Thanks, mate, " Sean says gratefully, returning the bottle after a long, reviving pull and eyeing Viggo with calculating eyes as green as the leaves above them. "So it's secrets you have in there... I wonder what they might be..."

But before he can prod Viggo further, a call comes from the director's assistant and he gets up with a heartfelt groan, offering Viggo a crooked smile.

"Dinner tonight?" he asks softly, waiting for Viggo's nod before heading back to the set.

Viggo's eyes follow him appreciatevely, then their gaze is lowered to the notebook again and a small, secret smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He opens the moleskin to the page where he had been writing and reads the single line he's scribbled on it.

Esta noche voy a enamorar a Sean
[Tonight I am going to make Sean fall in love]

***

There's something different about Viggo tonight.

Sean can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but it's there, he can feel it... it's something that speaks to him even if it's a night when both of them are bone-weary from the day of shooting and very few words are bartered over their pints.

But words are not everything, are they? And the few words offered in Viggo's soft drawl, the ones that have Sean leaning close to catch them over the raucous din in the Green Parrot, somehow seem to carry more meaning than they usually do.. feels like each of them, if missed, would be an irreparable loss.

And it's not just words...

There's the way Viggo's fingers linger every time they casually connect with Sean's, just for a fragment of time more than necessary, that unique fragment of time that makes one wonder if it's just chance or if there's something more behind the brief connection. And what about the way Viggo's lips brush the rim of Sean's ear as he leans in to murmur something about the way Orli is following Cate around the pub like a lovesick puppy?

What the fuck is going on tonight?

Sean is confused by the messages he's getting. His brain just can't process them, but all the same they seem to speak to something hidden deep down in him.

***

It's later, too late really, they should both be in bed already. Each in their separate bed...

Why the fuck did I just think that? Sean asks himself in the kitchen of his place as his hand hovers between a bottle of whisky and a bottle of water, which they both need more than the booze right now. He shakes his head to clear it. Hell, since when a couple of pints are enough to make him feel so fuzzy-headed and confused?

He's still hesitating when Viggo joins him in the kitchen and leans close, resting his chin on his shoulder, unruly ranger locks brushing the skin of Sean's neck and making him shiver. Something that the man has done uncountable times, but tonight it feels different. Tonight Sean's nostrils flare and catch the scent of Viggo's skin. Smoke from the pub in his hair, warm flesh, something private and musky. And - hot damn - what about the heat coming from him? It's enough to make Sean's breath get squeezed out of his lungs and he's reaching for the whisky bottle before his brain really makes any conscious choice.

He pours them both a generous dose, surprised - or maybe not at all - at the kind of effort it takes to keep his hand steady as he pours. When Viggo stands back and picks up his tumbler, the loss of contact feels devastating and Sean's hand trembles as he collects his own glass and follows Viggo into the living room.

"God, I'm so tired..." Sean sighs, slumping against the back of the couch, eyes squeezed shut and so confused, wanting something and having no clue what it is that I want... He feels the cushions sink as Viggo settles by his side, then gentle but determined hands pull him down to lie stretched, his head in Viggo's lap. Startled, he tenses, his whole body stiff with surprise, but the gentle-rough fingers move over his shoulders and arms, soothing, calming.

"Relax, it's going to be alright.." a quiet whisper tells him as the fingers slip under the collar of his shirt to stroke his neck.

Dropping down into Viggo's lap was surprising in its unexpectedness, but Sean finds that it is as surprisingly easy to settle there. The touch is light, undemanding, and it is certainly not Viggo's fault that when it starts to run up and down Sean's biceps, sore from sword and shield, he finds himself unable to stay still.

The sudden flush he's felt when finding his head pillowed on Viggo's crotch is subsiding, replaced by a need to seek more of that special warmth that's made him glow from toes to hair roots.

And in a single blinding moment he realizes that this is it, this is what he's been unwittingly waiting for all night. How could he have been so blind until now? He wants to be touched like this by Viggo, and he wants to touch Viggo in exactly the same way. For starters...

Viggo's questing fingers hesitate, as if sensing Sean's thoughts scurrying around like busy ants.

"Are you alright, Sean? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better still?" Viggo asks quietly, in that soft whisper that is so soothing and so tantalizing.

"There is something you could do, you could tell me what secret thought you were jotting down today in that notebook of yours.. I've been thinking about that.."

"Revealing a secret is not an easy thing, it's a piece of yourself you're giving away.. What would that get me in exchange?" Viggo challenges, darkened blue eyes scanning Sean's face as if to assess whether he's willing to offer as much as what he's asking.

"I've just found out that I have a secret wish, I would offer you that.." And I would be giving all of me, not just a piece...

Viggo muses, his gaze never breaking contact with Sean's. Then he nods. His fingers remain curled around Sean's arm as he speaks, but they tense, as if to hold him, afraid that he might break away.

"What I wrote is... tonight I am going to make Sean fall in love."

"No worry then, Sean has fallen in love.." he says softly, taking Viggo's hand and settling it on his chest, right above his heart as he offers his own secret.

Date: 2008-04-17 05:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] moldava.livejournal.com
Hello darling *hugs*
Glad you enjoyed this ficlet

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February 2009

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