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Title: Cafe on the Corner (12/?)
Author: Amre (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dazzamre)
Pairing: Viggorli (brief mention of others)
Rating: overall I’m trying for NC-17
Summary: AU. A local coffee shop. An Open Mic Night. Anything could happen.
Feedback: It would be most welcome. :)
Disclaimer: Lies, lies! It’s all lies, I tell you!
Thanks to:madame_d for being such a great beta.
A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter. Feel free to blame my professors and send them nasty emails. ;)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Part 12
Orlando leaned against the fence and looked at the house, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He’d been here five minutes already, but he was still battling the nerves that had set in the second Viggo had invited him to Thanksgiving Dinner. Henry’s attitude had changed from open hostility to feigned indifference, but Orlando wasn’t sure either one of them were ready for this.
“What the...?” Orlando cried, spinning around as something bumped into his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Legolas,” he said stroking the horse’s head and smiling fondly. “You don’t know how lucky you are to be a horse. I mean, I guess you have your own unique horse problems, but trust me, anything is easier to deal with than a sullen teenager. Not that you would know. He likes you. How do I get him to like me, huh?”
Orlando rolled his eyes. He was not jealous of a horse. He was talking to one, yes, and freezing to death rather than go inside and face Henry, but he was not under any circumstances jealous of Legolas. Well, maybe just a little, he admitted to himself.
A loud crash from inside the barn broke Orlando out of his musings. He patted Legolas once more before going to investigate. He pushed the door open and looked around.
“Up here!” Viggo called.
Orlando turned his gaze to the hay loft and grinned. “What are you doing up there?”
“Trying to find a box of ornaments. And I’m afraid I did. Will you check that one?” Viggo asked nodding to the box that lay at Orlando’s feet.
“Sure,” Orlando called, turning the box upright and opening the lid. “Yeah, ornaments. I don’t think you broke too many.”
Viggo sighed and started down the ladder. “Hey,” he said when he had reached the bottom.
“Hi. Can I ask why you’re throwing poor, defenseless Christmas ornaments out of the hay loft?” Orlando asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“I didn’t throw them. They slipped,” Viggo answered, punctuating the last sentence with a kiss. He picked up the box and shook it slightly, wincing at the sound of broken glass. “Well, Henry’s been trying to get me to buy new ornaments for years. I guess I’ll finally have to now.”
“Why were you looking for ornaments?” Orlando asked, lifting the lid again and peeking inside. He grinned at the eclectic assortment of ornaments in the box. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Viggo.
“We decorate the tree every year on Thanksgiving. It’s kind of a family tradition. I was hoping you’d stay and help,” Viggo said slowly.
Orlando froze. “Are you sure Henry’s okay with this?”
“The ornaments? Yeah, he really was sick of them.”
“No! I meant all of this. Me. Thanksgiving. Tree decorating.”
Orlando was ready to bolt. He knew this was a bad idea. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come in the first place. This time of year was stressful enough without adding to the chaos. He must have looked as worried as he felt. The grin that had been forming on Viggo’s face faded, replaced with concern.
“I know what you meant. And he will be. He’s still getting used to you being a part of my life, but...he likes you. He does!” Viggo stressed when Orlando scoffed. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Well, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.”
“Miranda called him yesterday. I don’t know how you did it, but he got in. That went a long way towards impressing him,” Viggo said as they left the barn.
Orlando stopped at his car. “That’s great! She told me she’d see what she could do,” he said as he opened the passenger-side door and leaned in, picking something up from the seat.
“He’s excited about it, but don’t expect him to say that. What have you got there?” Viggo asked. “A pie? What kind?”
“Oh, um...pumpkin,” Orlando said, glancing at the label. “I stopped at the store on the way over here after Liv informed me I was a ‘guest’ and should ‘have better manners than to show up empty-handed.’”
Viggo chuckled. “That sounds like something Sean would say. I can see why they get along so well.”
“Yeah,” Orlando agreed.
“So, um...you ready to go inside?” Viggo asked.
Orlando still hadn’t moved from the spot beside his car. He’d momentarily forgotten his anxiety, but it suddenly came rushing back to him. Orlando fought back the butterflies in his stomach and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he followed Viggo into the house.
~*~*~*~
“So where is it going to go?” Orlando asked again.
Henry was in the kitchen on the phone with his mom while Orlando and Viggo were moving furniture around to make room for the Christmas tree. Dinner had gone much better than Orlando had hoped. True, Henry had barely said two words to him except for “pass the peas,” but he’d only shrugged indifferently when Viggo told him that Orlando was staying to help with the tree.
“We’ll just move that chair away from the window and put it there,” Viggo said. “And the chair will go...there?” he suggested, nodding toward an empty area by the fireplace.
Orlando shrugged and pulled the chair across the room. It had been years since he’d put up a tree that was over two feet tall. There just wasn’t space in his tiny apartment.
Viggo took a step back and surveyed the room. “Okay, I think that’s good,” he nodded. “Henry! Bring the tree from the back, will you?” he called.
“Yeah, just a minute,” Henry shouted back.
“Okay, guess we’ve got to sort through these ornaments,” Viggo sighed, sitting the box on the coffee table and carrying the trash can from beside the desk over to the couch.
Viggo began to go through them, telling Orlando the story behind some of them, like the paper gingerbread man Henry had made in kindergarten and convinced the teacher to cut off one arm so it looked as if someone had bitten into it. Or the set of paint-swirled glass ornaments that Sean’s middle daughter had given him. Fascinated, Orlando held each one up to look at it, as Viggo continued to sporadically discard broken ornaments.
“Here’s the tree,” Henry said, dropping the bag on the floor. He unzipped it and began pulling various pieces out of the bag.
“Can I help?” Orlando asked, moving from the couch and kneeling on the floor beside Henry.
Henry shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he said, putting up the stand. “Okay, there are different colored marks on the stand,” he said pointing to the brightly colored buttons that dotted the metal at regular intervals. “As there are on each limb.” He held up one for Orlando to see the paint on the end. “Then you just match them,” he concluded, sliding the limb into a slot on the ‘trunk.’ “Think you can do that?”
Orlando fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I think so,“ he nodded, unable to keep just a hint of sarcasm from coloring his words.
It wasn’t as easy as Henry made it sound. The paint was faded, or completely gone, on some limbs, and Orlando moved several from orange to red or red to pink before giving up and looking for blue ones. Each time he reached into the tangle of branches, the fake bristles left another hundred or so scratches that, while nearly invisible, burned like hell. But Orlando was determined that as long as Henry was being civil, he would keep his mouth shut and not do anything to jeopardize the small baby steps they were making.
After fifteen minutes that, to Orlando, felt like at least fifteen hours, the tree was together. He felt strangely triumphant as he grinned at Viggo.
“You know, I think they make trees that don’t require this much assembly,” Orlando laughed when Henry went to get the box of lights Viggo had left in the kitchen.
“Well, sometimes we get a live tree, but my parents are visiting this year, and my mom thinks they’re a fire hazard. I’d never hear the end of it,” Viggo chuckled.
“Your family’s going to be here?” Orlando asked, surprised.
Viggo nodded. “I was going to tell you, but they just sprung it on me. Don’t try talking my mom out of something when she’s made up her mind. And, um...there’s just one more thing,” Viggo said hesitantly.
“They don’t have a clue about me, do they?” Orlando said softly.
Viggo shook his head. “I couldn’t tell them over the phone. I’ve never really dated a guy before, you know? I mean, they know that I...But this is different.”
“Something tells me this is going to be a Christmas we’ll never forget.”
~*~*~*~
Henry ducked out as soon as the tree was finished, saying that a bunch of his friends were getting together to watch a football game.
“Is Rachel going to be there?” Viggo called after him. The only answer he got was a slamming door. Viggo chuckled. “Henry couldn’t care less about football. They grow up so fast.”
Orlando remembered all too well what it was like to be sixteen and, frankly, he was glad those days were behind him.
“You want something to drink?” Viggo asked. “Tea? Apple cider? There may be some hot cocoa somewhere.”
“Apple cider would be great,” Orlando answered, stifling a yawn.
“I’ll be right back.”
Orlando made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching out and watching the twinkling of the lights on the tree. He’d shoved all thoughts of Viggo’s parents to the back of his mind and refused to think about it tonight. It was still a month away, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway. Whatever happened would happen.
Orlando moved his feet to make room for Viggo as he entered the room carrying two mugs.
“Here you go. Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned handing one to Orlando.
“Thanks,” Orlando grinned, watching Viggo blow lightly into his cup, his eyes sparkling over the top of it.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about that fantastic fight you put up against those lights. You almost had ‘em at one point, but...”
“It was a surprise attack,” Viggo interrupted. “I didn’t stand a chance. In a fair fight, I could have taken them easily.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Orlando said seriously, struggling not to laugh.
They were quiet for a moment.
"I'm really glad you decided to come today," Viggo said suddenly.
"You know what? So am I," Orlando smiled.
Author: Amre (
dazzamre) Pairing: Viggorli (brief mention of others)
Rating: overall I’m trying for NC-17
Summary: AU. A local coffee shop. An Open Mic Night. Anything could happen.
Feedback: It would be most welcome. :)
Disclaimer: Lies, lies! It’s all lies, I tell you!
Thanks to:
madame_d for being such a great beta.A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter. Feel free to blame my professors and send them nasty emails. ;)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Part 12
Orlando leaned against the fence and looked at the house, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He’d been here five minutes already, but he was still battling the nerves that had set in the second Viggo had invited him to Thanksgiving Dinner. Henry’s attitude had changed from open hostility to feigned indifference, but Orlando wasn’t sure either one of them were ready for this.
“What the...?” Orlando cried, spinning around as something bumped into his shoulder. “Oh, hi, Legolas,” he said stroking the horse’s head and smiling fondly. “You don’t know how lucky you are to be a horse. I mean, I guess you have your own unique horse problems, but trust me, anything is easier to deal with than a sullen teenager. Not that you would know. He likes you. How do I get him to like me, huh?”
Orlando rolled his eyes. He was not jealous of a horse. He was talking to one, yes, and freezing to death rather than go inside and face Henry, but he was not under any circumstances jealous of Legolas. Well, maybe just a little, he admitted to himself.
A loud crash from inside the barn broke Orlando out of his musings. He patted Legolas once more before going to investigate. He pushed the door open and looked around.
“Up here!” Viggo called.
Orlando turned his gaze to the hay loft and grinned. “What are you doing up there?”
“Trying to find a box of ornaments. And I’m afraid I did. Will you check that one?” Viggo asked nodding to the box that lay at Orlando’s feet.
“Sure,” Orlando called, turning the box upright and opening the lid. “Yeah, ornaments. I don’t think you broke too many.”
Viggo sighed and started down the ladder. “Hey,” he said when he had reached the bottom.
“Hi. Can I ask why you’re throwing poor, defenseless Christmas ornaments out of the hay loft?” Orlando asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“I didn’t throw them. They slipped,” Viggo answered, punctuating the last sentence with a kiss. He picked up the box and shook it slightly, wincing at the sound of broken glass. “Well, Henry’s been trying to get me to buy new ornaments for years. I guess I’ll finally have to now.”
“Why were you looking for ornaments?” Orlando asked, lifting the lid again and peeking inside. He grinned at the eclectic assortment of ornaments in the box. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Viggo.
“We decorate the tree every year on Thanksgiving. It’s kind of a family tradition. I was hoping you’d stay and help,” Viggo said slowly.
Orlando froze. “Are you sure Henry’s okay with this?”
“The ornaments? Yeah, he really was sick of them.”
“No! I meant all of this. Me. Thanksgiving. Tree decorating.”
Orlando was ready to bolt. He knew this was a bad idea. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come in the first place. This time of year was stressful enough without adding to the chaos. He must have looked as worried as he felt. The grin that had been forming on Viggo’s face faded, replaced with concern.
“I know what you meant. And he will be. He’s still getting used to you being a part of my life, but...he likes you. He does!” Viggo stressed when Orlando scoffed. “He just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Well, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.”
“Miranda called him yesterday. I don’t know how you did it, but he got in. That went a long way towards impressing him,” Viggo said as they left the barn.
Orlando stopped at his car. “That’s great! She told me she’d see what she could do,” he said as he opened the passenger-side door and leaned in, picking something up from the seat.
“He’s excited about it, but don’t expect him to say that. What have you got there?” Viggo asked. “A pie? What kind?”
“Oh, um...pumpkin,” Orlando said, glancing at the label. “I stopped at the store on the way over here after Liv informed me I was a ‘guest’ and should ‘have better manners than to show up empty-handed.’”
Viggo chuckled. “That sounds like something Sean would say. I can see why they get along so well.”
“Yeah,” Orlando agreed.
“So, um...you ready to go inside?” Viggo asked.
Orlando still hadn’t moved from the spot beside his car. He’d momentarily forgotten his anxiety, but it suddenly came rushing back to him. Orlando fought back the butterflies in his stomach and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he followed Viggo into the house.
~*~*~*~
“So where is it going to go?” Orlando asked again.
Henry was in the kitchen on the phone with his mom while Orlando and Viggo were moving furniture around to make room for the Christmas tree. Dinner had gone much better than Orlando had hoped. True, Henry had barely said two words to him except for “pass the peas,” but he’d only shrugged indifferently when Viggo told him that Orlando was staying to help with the tree.
“We’ll just move that chair away from the window and put it there,” Viggo said. “And the chair will go...there?” he suggested, nodding toward an empty area by the fireplace.
Orlando shrugged and pulled the chair across the room. It had been years since he’d put up a tree that was over two feet tall. There just wasn’t space in his tiny apartment.
Viggo took a step back and surveyed the room. “Okay, I think that’s good,” he nodded. “Henry! Bring the tree from the back, will you?” he called.
“Yeah, just a minute,” Henry shouted back.
“Okay, guess we’ve got to sort through these ornaments,” Viggo sighed, sitting the box on the coffee table and carrying the trash can from beside the desk over to the couch.
Viggo began to go through them, telling Orlando the story behind some of them, like the paper gingerbread man Henry had made in kindergarten and convinced the teacher to cut off one arm so it looked as if someone had bitten into it. Or the set of paint-swirled glass ornaments that Sean’s middle daughter had given him. Fascinated, Orlando held each one up to look at it, as Viggo continued to sporadically discard broken ornaments.
“Here’s the tree,” Henry said, dropping the bag on the floor. He unzipped it and began pulling various pieces out of the bag.
“Can I help?” Orlando asked, moving from the couch and kneeling on the floor beside Henry.
Henry shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he said, putting up the stand. “Okay, there are different colored marks on the stand,” he said pointing to the brightly colored buttons that dotted the metal at regular intervals. “As there are on each limb.” He held up one for Orlando to see the paint on the end. “Then you just match them,” he concluded, sliding the limb into a slot on the ‘trunk.’ “Think you can do that?”
Orlando fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I think so,“ he nodded, unable to keep just a hint of sarcasm from coloring his words.
It wasn’t as easy as Henry made it sound. The paint was faded, or completely gone, on some limbs, and Orlando moved several from orange to red or red to pink before giving up and looking for blue ones. Each time he reached into the tangle of branches, the fake bristles left another hundred or so scratches that, while nearly invisible, burned like hell. But Orlando was determined that as long as Henry was being civil, he would keep his mouth shut and not do anything to jeopardize the small baby steps they were making.
After fifteen minutes that, to Orlando, felt like at least fifteen hours, the tree was together. He felt strangely triumphant as he grinned at Viggo.
“You know, I think they make trees that don’t require this much assembly,” Orlando laughed when Henry went to get the box of lights Viggo had left in the kitchen.
“Well, sometimes we get a live tree, but my parents are visiting this year, and my mom thinks they’re a fire hazard. I’d never hear the end of it,” Viggo chuckled.
“Your family’s going to be here?” Orlando asked, surprised.
Viggo nodded. “I was going to tell you, but they just sprung it on me. Don’t try talking my mom out of something when she’s made up her mind. And, um...there’s just one more thing,” Viggo said hesitantly.
“They don’t have a clue about me, do they?” Orlando said softly.
Viggo shook his head. “I couldn’t tell them over the phone. I’ve never really dated a guy before, you know? I mean, they know that I...But this is different.”
“Something tells me this is going to be a Christmas we’ll never forget.”
~*~*~*~
Henry ducked out as soon as the tree was finished, saying that a bunch of his friends were getting together to watch a football game.
“Is Rachel going to be there?” Viggo called after him. The only answer he got was a slamming door. Viggo chuckled. “Henry couldn’t care less about football. They grow up so fast.”
Orlando remembered all too well what it was like to be sixteen and, frankly, he was glad those days were behind him.
“You want something to drink?” Viggo asked. “Tea? Apple cider? There may be some hot cocoa somewhere.”
“Apple cider would be great,” Orlando answered, stifling a yawn.
“I’ll be right back.”
Orlando made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching out and watching the twinkling of the lights on the tree. He’d shoved all thoughts of Viggo’s parents to the back of his mind and refused to think about it tonight. It was still a month away, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway. Whatever happened would happen.
Orlando moved his feet to make room for Viggo as he entered the room carrying two mugs.
“Here you go. Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned handing one to Orlando.
“Thanks,” Orlando grinned, watching Viggo blow lightly into his cup, his eyes sparkling over the top of it.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about that fantastic fight you put up against those lights. You almost had ‘em at one point, but...”
“It was a surprise attack,” Viggo interrupted. “I didn’t stand a chance. In a fair fight, I could have taken them easily.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Orlando said seriously, struggling not to laugh.
They were quiet for a moment.
"I'm really glad you decided to come today," Viggo said suddenly.
"You know what? So am I," Orlando smiled.
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