Posted: June 2004
Title: Days of the New
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPS
Characters: Viggo Mortensen/Sean Bean
Rating: PG-15
WARNING: Slash. Schmoop. Viggo's tunes interspersed.
Beta: None
Disclaimer: As always, this it fiction. It never happened.
Summary: Lots more dancing around the issue, verbally, this time with a soundtrack. Sequel to "Unexpected," taking place about one month later.
Notes: Slightly AU. The ‘Red CD' didn't come out till 2001, after filming wrapped. All lyrics by Days of the New/Travis Meeks. No malicious intent is meant by using them.

*****

//"…I'm not the one who's trying to be your enemy/
It's something you need to change…"//

Their Elf was back among them, after a three week hiatus. The boy had been to boot camp in preparation of an unexpected film recruitment, and his head shorn nearly bald. Viggo missed the Mohawk. Apparently Orli had missed Viggo, who suffered gamely through the mauling the young man offered in greeting. The open lust in his thick-lashed, mahogany eyes burned into Viggo despite his current state. ‘Watch out, man,' he sternly lectured himself. ‘You don't need that mess.'

Orlando had also brought with him a new obsession of a band Viggo vaguely remembered from a couple years back. Bunch of kids, they were. It was not to Orli's typical musical tastes and therefore probably it wouldn't last long with him. Something about the acoustic mix overlaid with growling vocals and occasional raspy howling planted a kernel in the dry soil of Viggo's soul. Quietly, overnight, it germinated. He woke up craving more, snatches of words and melody retained from the day before tickling at his comfort-seeking mind.

//"I am cold and I don't know why
I said you gotta keep me warm.
You will run, run from my eyes
They stare you down, and make you burn..."//

He sought a techie with a CD burner and demanded copies from Orli. There were three to be had. Yellow. Green. Red. The smiling elf complied. When it was done, Viggo rummaged his apartment till he located his old portable CD player, a pair of headphones, and the requisite batteries. Amazing they were to be found at all, albeit in three different drawers. By then he was running late with no time to listen.

Hours later, in the last of the sultry afternoon heat, Viggo sat his tired ass down on a fallen log and slapped the headphones on. Peter called a halt to the swordplay; it was too late in the day and the light was going wrong. Thank god. Getting pummeled by huge stunties in 95-degree weather made for very long days. The music washed over him like honey. Soon he was so relaxed, strained muscles slowly uncoiling, he found himself sprawled on the leafy ground, flat on his back, legs still hooked over the downed tree.

There he lay, arms spread wide to embrace the sky, eyes slack-lidded, just immersed. The music pounding into the miniature speakers in his ears made him fly. //"Get off your knees/time to fly…"// Alternately he felt rooted to the earth; he could have lain there for an eon. //"I am the ground and the dirt/face of the earth…"// He lit up a smoke, careful not to start the leaves or himself on fire. Ah. The lungful of sludge felt so pollutingly good. A perfect topping on this. A couple cold beers and a heavy dose of sex sounded even better. Well, as per usual these days, he'd get the one and do without the other…

A shadow fell across him, blocking the sunlight. Viggo squinted up, saw dirty blond hair limned in rays of the sun, sparks leaping from gold embroidery. He smiled in greeting but didn't move. ‘Oh yes, come to daddy,' he thought. Since he'd made peace (an uneasy one) with the fact that he was violently attracted to the man, it had been easier to talk to him and work with him. A little admission went a long way, apparently. Sean's mouth was moving. Viggo could hear none of what he said, but feigned lip reading just so he could watch for a few uninterrupted seconds. God, that mouth. Sean stopped talking and waited for a response.

//"Make love to the snake,
the skin keeps you warm…
…give in, give in, give in…"//

"Huh?" Viggo grunted as he slid the earphones down. "Sorry. I didn't catch all that. Really into this." That last was true enough. He'd been in the middle of a Kashmir-esque dirge-rant that made him want to go wander around the desert for a week, sleep in the sand… as long as he could have the oasis before him at the end... ‘Shut up, Vig, you twee-ing idiot!' He forced himself to pay attention.

"…Oh, right. What I said was, I have nothing edible in my flat and the kids bailed on me, so would you like to go to dinner?" Sean swung a leg over the log and sat, straddling it.

Well. The fates had finally decided to give him a break, eh? They'd taken long enough. Viggo had to concentrate very hard to remain in the nonchalant, I-could-give-a-damn mode, sham though it was. "Yeah, fine. Seven-ish?"

They'd been out in a herd before, but never by themselves. Already liquid heat was burning its way to his crotch, just at the prospect of being within feet of the man for a couple hours. Rather pathetic, really, he told himself.

"Cool. Pick you up?"

"If you want…"

"Ok, then, we'll make a date of it."

Viggo eyed him sharply. There was an undercurrent of something going on. He was sure as hell it was not just his undercurrent. Was Sean serious, or just fucking around? He had to know, so Viggo decided to up the ante.

"I don't date men, Sean."

The man looked startled and backpedaled. "I-I'm sorry, mate; I didn't mean ‘date' in the traditional sense of the word."

The Brit crossed his legs and put his elbow down on the top knee. If Viggo was reading his body language correctly, Sean was suddenly feeling a need for self-protection. The bewildered ‘oh, shite' look on his face was enough to make Viggo have mercy.

"More precisely…I don't date them, I just fuck them." He batted his eyes once; stopped himself. How stupid, doing such a thing—at his age yet; best leave that to Orli and ‘Lij. ‘There. Let him answer to that.'

Bean was obviously choosing his words with utmost care. He looked a bit like a fish out of water. "Well, I guess it's been said I'll shag anything with a pulse…."

That little gem of ‘common knowledge' was not one Viggo had been privy to. He chalked it up to being non-British. "Do you?"

Sean laughed, a real laugh. This was old hat to him. "Not really, but I have a reputation to live up to, so if its alright with you, mate, no one needs to be any the wiser."

Viggo chewed on that for a minute. He had raised himself up on one elbow and bent the leg nearer to Sean at the knee to hide what was going on in his pants. So, that was the way of it, eh? Everyone would conclude he was Bean's latest conquest and not the other way around? He might be King on this set but out there it was Sean who had the name. It was easy forget stuff like that when you hadn't dealt with the real world for months.

Just to save face for the moment, Viggo nodded curtly and agreed to the plan ‘as is,' with no more insinuations as to extracurricular activities. As Sean walked off, his costume flaring as he went, Viggo had to wonder exactly what he'd set himself up for.

//"I don't wanna be afraid/
I don't wanna fear this…"//

He'd better make a couple quick stops on the way home, just in case.

*****

THE END

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