Title: Kiss Me Again

Author: Katie Bilodeau (bgbaby731@yahoo.com)

Summary: Orlando is agonizing over an internal problem when he gets some advice from a strange young girl.

Rating: R

Beta: None.  If it needs one, let me know and I’ll dig around for one.

Pairing: Orlando/Viggo

Warning: Sexual innuendos, boys kissing, but I’m assuming if your on this site, you know that already.  ;-D

Disclaimer: I stake no claim on the two main men I borrowed in writing this fic (wouldn’t mind, though) or any of the other actors.  I don’t know them and so have absolutely no idea whether or not they actually act like this in reality.

Feedback: Yes, please!  I live for it . . . :-D

Author’s Notes: Sorry if this fic seems a little out of it.  I wrote this after having a dream about it.  Then I heard the song “You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This” by Toby Keith on the radio (Yeah, it’s a country song; I grew up listening to country music, my mom loved it), and it seemed to fit in with the story so I incorporated it in.  And I’m also sorry about the parody in here.  I just downloaded it and thought it was hilarious.  Also, obviously, I don’t know Viggo Mortenson and Orlando Bloom.  I have nothing but the utmost respect for them.  This definitely did not happen, so . . . don’t sue.  Just a poor white girl.

 

Orlando sighed as he lay back against the white pool chair.  Johnny was right about this place.  The distinguished actor had noticed, the last time he had visited Orlando, the young Brit was looking rundown and listless.  Johnny told him to take some time of from filming and go on vacation.  After much whining and moaning about it, Orlando had accepted his friend and costar’s advice and taken a two-week long vacation to a beautiful beach called Wrightsville Beach, in North Carolina.  He was lying by the pool, resting, when his thoughts involuntarily turned to a person that had occupied his mind since filming Lord of the Rings.

Viggo.

Orlando sighed, raking a hand through his chestnut brown waves.  Why was he always thinking of Viggo?  What was so remarkable about the older man?  Other than the fact that he was a brilliant actor . . . funny . . . nice . . . talented . . . not to mention drop-dead gorgeous . . . okay, scratch that question.  Was it possible he had a bit of . . . a crush on the older actor???  Orlando knew the answer to that question already.  He’d been enthralled with Viggo since the middle of filming Lord of the Rings.  Every time Vigo visited him at different sets, different movies, Orlando felt himself slipping further and further, until one visit he knew he loved the other man.  He was also fairly confident he and Viggo could never be together in any time or place other than his dreams.  He sighed again and groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Excuse me.”

Orlando’s eyes flew open and shot to his left.  A girl of about fifteen lay on the pool chair next to him, he head tilted to one side, looking at him.  Her sunglasses were perched atop short blonde locks and her green eyes were squinting at Orlando, trying to keep the majority of the sun out.

“Are you all right?” she asked.  “You sound either sick, depressed, conflicted, or all three.”

Orlando smiled.

“Conflicted,” he replied.  “Trying to sort out a problem I’ve got.”

“Do you need someone to talk to?” the girl asked.  Orlando was ready to laugh and say, “no, thanks” but something stopped him.  He sat up a bit and looked back at the blonde girl.

“Actually, I think that might help,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Well, I’m here if you need to talk,” the girl offered.  “What’s your problem?”

“I’m trying to figure out . . . how to tell my girlfriend that . . . I’m in love with someone else,” Orlando stammered, struggling to force his mouth to form the words.  “But I still want to have her in my life.  You know.  As a friend.”  He had never before voiced his problem and was shocked to find himself telling a complete stranger.

“Well, if that’s the case, you need to tell your girlfriend,” the girl replied in a matter-of-fact tone.  “If you want to have any chance of keeping her in your life as a friend of yours, you need to tell her soon that you have feelings for another girl.”

Orlando glanced away uncomfortably and dropped his gaze to the gleaming white cobblestones.

“Or maybe part of your problem is that you’re not in love with another woman?” the girl asked.  Orlando’s start answered her question in the affirmative.  “Well, the solution to the problem is still the same.  You need to tell your girlfriend you’re in love with another.”

“You think?” Orlando asked her, glancing at her.  “Just like that?”

“It won’t be terribly easy, if you do care for this girl, but it needs to be done.”

The girl stood up and replaced her sunglasses in front of her eyes.

“Good luck,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.  Orlando smiled and closed his eyes, bowing his head.  When he looked up a moment later, the blonde help was gone.  He looked around, completely baffled as to where the blonde girl could have disappeared off to that fast.

“Thanks,” he murmured, hoping wherever the girl was, she was close enough to hear him.

“Go, go, go, go, go, go, go on, luv; it’s my birthday.  You look tarty, luv; it’s my birthday.  I’ll buy you a Bacardi, luv; it’s my birthday.  And you know I’m havin’ a laugh; it’s not my birthday!”

Orlando jumped at the sound of the British parody.  He looked around for the source of the music, searching for a CD player or a stereo.  Instead he spotted his cell phone glowing.

“What—?”  He picked up his phone and the music started again.  When had he changed his ringer?

“Go, go, go, go—”

“Oh, hell,” Orlando mumbled, hitting the Send button to answer.  “Hello?”

“Orlando?” came a familiar-sounding voice.  Orlando’s heart jumped, but he kept his voice cool, trying to remain calm.  He didn’t want to get his hopes up and anyway, cell phones made loads of people’s voices sound familiar.

“This is he,” the Brit replied cautiously.

“Hey, it’s Viggo!”

Orlando nearly started to dance at the sound of his voice, rejoicing in the fact that Viggo was calling him.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Doing all right; how about you?” Viggo asked, his voice appearing enthusiastic to talk to the British actor.

“I’m great,” Orlando replied, grinning to himself and looking for all the world watching like the village idiot.  “So, to what do I owe this immense pleasure?”

No harm in dropping little hints here and there, Orlando mused to himself.

“Well, you’re vacationing in North Carolina, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Would you mind some company?”

Orlando nearly died right then and there, somehow managing to keep his composure.

“Your company?” he asked, hardly able to believe it.

“Yeah.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind!  When are you coming?”

“I’ll be arriving tomorrow,” Viggo told him.  “Meet you out front at, say, three-thirty?  I’ll be getting there around then.”

“I’ll be there,” Orlando told excitedly, glancing at his watch.  Only six o’clock???

“Great!  I’ll see you tomorrow!” Viggo told him.

“Definitely.”

They hung up and Orlando grabbed his towel, shoved his feet into his flip-flops, and jumped up.  He had a lot to do before three-thirty tomorrow afternoon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Orlando!”

Orlando laughed and exulted inwardly as Viggo enveloped him in a huge bear hug.  They were standing outside the lobby next to Viggo’s rental car.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Viggo cried, grinning, pulling away to look at Orlando.  “You look fantastic.”

“Oh, thanks, you do, too,” Orlando replied, a slight blush spreading across his face.  Viggo grinned and embraced him again.

“Help me get checked in?” Viggo asked, keeping an arm around Orlando’s shoulders.

“Of course,” the Brit replied.  “Right in here.”

He led the older man into the check-in office.

“Hi, welcome to Station One, can I help you?” a pretty brunette asked, a slight Southern drawl accenting her voice.

“Yeah, hi, uh, I’m checking in,” Viggo said, running a hand through his hair.

“Name, please?”

“Viggo Mortensen.”

The clerk clicked her mouse a few time, gazing at her computer.  After a moment, she frowned.

“I’m sorry, sir, but your name isn’t in our files,” she told Viggo at last.

“What?”

“Are you sure you reserved a room, Mr. Mortensen?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m positive,” he replied, exasperated.  “I talked to someone just a few days ago.  They said there was an apartment for me.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk said again.  “I don’t know who you talked to, but we’ve been booked solid for months.  People are calling for time slots for three months from now.”

“So you have no rooms at all?” Viggo asked disbelievingly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk apologized again, shaking her head.  Viggo stared at her.

“Thanks,” he muttered before turning and stalking through the door.  Orlando followed him back out to his car.

“What are you going to do now?” Orlando asked quietly, leaning against a pillar.  Viggo sighed and stood facing him.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.  “Maybe I should just go home.”

Orlando felt annoyed.  No way was he going to let this perfect opportunity slip from between his fingers!

“Nonsense,” the Brit remarked, pushing himself off the wall to stand in front of Viggo.  “There’s an extra bed in my room.  You’ll stay there.”

“What?”  Viggo looked at him.

“You’ll stay there,” he repeated.  “Come on, let’s get your car parked and your bags inside.”

“Orlando, I can’t let you do this,” Viggo objected.

“Yes, you can, and I’ll not hear another word about it,” Orlando told him.  “Let’s go.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in Orlando’s apartment, Viggo’s bags in hand.

“Orlando, I really appreciate this,” Viggo said for the fifth time.

“Don’t worry about it.  You’ve been working hard; you deserve a vacation, too,” Orlando replied.  “And stop thanking me.”

Viggo grinned.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughed.  Orlando grinned and followed Viggo out onto the balcony.  “This place is beautiful,” Viggo commented.

“It really is,” Orlando replied softly.  “And relatively peaceful, once you get past the kids.”

“Kids aren’t that bad,” Viggo responded, mocking an insulted look.  “Remember, I’ve got one of my own!”

“Only if you’ve got them of your own,” Orlando told him pointedly.

“Okay, you’ve got me there.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Orlando asked, turning to Viggo.  The older man looked sheepish.

“I had a bagel at the hotel this morning,” he supplied hopefully.

“But no lunch?”

“No lunch.”

Orlando rolled his eyes.

“That’ll never sustain you,” he criticized.  “You’ll be starving in an hour.  We’ll get your stuff put away, and then I’ll make us something to eat,” Orlando told him, ticking things off on his fingers.  He grabbed Viggo’s arm and started dragging him inside.  “Come on!”

Half an hour later, Viggo was watching Orlando toss ingredients together for quesadillas, sitting on a stool next to the counter between the kitchen and the table.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Viggo asked, his eyes following Orlando’s every move.

“Viggo, even if there was, do you honestly think another person could fit in this kitchen?” Orlando replied, glancing behind him at the tiny space.

“Oh . . .yeah.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Viggo and Orlando spent the rest of the afternoon in the water, both the ocean and the pool.  They were sitting on the steps of the pool, resting.  It was almost nine-thirty, and the other vacationers had retreated to their apartments.

“Orlando, you’re probably going to throttle me for saying this, but I really do appreciate you lending me a room,” Viggo said softly, looking at him.

Orlando smiled and gazed out over the water.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied warmly.  “Anything to help a . . . a friend.”

He cringed inwardly, hoping Viggo hadn’t noticed his slip.  Viggo paused and pushed himself into the water, heading towards the deeper end of the pool.  Orlando followed him.  Music floated through an open window several floors above.

“There's a boat, I could sail away.  There's the sky, I could catch a plane.  There's a train, there's the tracks.  I could leave and I could choose to not come back.  Oh, never come back . . .”

The older man turned, smiling, and held out his hand to Orlando.

“May I have this dance?”

“What?!” Orlando gasped, gaping at Viggo.  He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Humour an old man with a dance?” Viggo asked again, his eyes twinkling.  Orlando smiled as he accepted Viggo’s hand, his heart pounding.

“You’re a far cry from an old man, Vig,” Orlando told him.  Viggo grinned and led him into the middle of the pool, the warm, yet cool, water waist-high.

“I’m getting there,” he replied.

“There you are, giving up the fight.  Here I am, begging you to try.  Talk to me, let me in, but you just put your wall back up again.  Oh, when's it gonna end?”

Viggo guided Orlando’s arm to curl around his shoulder and pulled the younger man close with an arm wrapped around the Brit’s waist, his left hand still holding Orlando’s right tightly.  Orlando was having a hard time breathing, what with the object of his affections so close.  They were nearly the same height, Viggo maybe an inch or two taller.  Orlando hoped Viggo couldn’t tell he was so nervous.  Their bare chests were flush together, electricity jolting Orlando’s whole body.

“I must admit, I’m not a terribly good dancer,” Orlando confessed, hanging his head.

“Don’t worry.  If you follow me, you’ll do fantastic,” Viggo replied softly.  They began swaying gently to the music.  A movement caught the corner of Orlando’s eye and he looked up sharply, fearful that someone was watching.  That would be the last thing he needed, someone spouting to all the newspapers and gossip magazines of the world Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen were dancing quite closely – together – in a pool, stars glittering overhead.  The figure moved again, into the moonlight this time.  Orlando squinted, trying to make out who it was.  Whoever it was stepped fully into the light, and Orlando sighed in relief and relaxed.

It was his angel of advice from the previous day, as he had come to think of her as.  She nodded at him, her blonde hair shining in the moonlight.  Orlando smiled back at her and bowed his head once.  She blew him a kiss and disappeared into the shadows.  Orlando knew he would never see her again.  He sighed silently and laid his head on Viggo’s shoulder.

“How far do I have to go to make you understand?  I wanna make this work so much it hurts, but I just can't keep on giving, go on living with the way things are.  So I'm gonna walk away and it's up to you to say how far . . . There's a chance I could change my mind.  But I won't, not till you decide what you want, what you need.  Do you even care if I stay or leave?  Oh, what's it gonna be?  How far do I have to go to make you understand?  I wanna make this work so much it hurts, but I just can't keep on giving, go on living with the way things are.  So I'm gonna walk away and it's up to you to say how far . . . Out of this chair, or just across the room.  Halfway down the block or halfway to the moon . . .”

The chorus played again, the final notes of the song coming far too soon for Orlando’s liking.  Another thrill ran through his body when he felt Viggo tighten his arm around his waist.  The two continued dancing until after the song ended, neither wishing to let go.  They finally did, another song already under way.  They leaned against the side of the pool, listening to the music.

Viggo opened his mouth to speak when they heard music floating through an open door several floors above.

“I’ve got a funny feeling, the moment that your lips touched mine.  Something shot right through me.  My heart skipped a beat in time . . . There’s a different feel about you tonight.  It’s got me thinkin’ lots of crazy things.  I think I even saw a flash of light.  It felt like electricity . . .”

Orlando stole a glance at Viggo to see him leaning back on his elbows, his eyes closed.

God, he looks good.

“You know, this song really . . . encompasses my feelings at the moment,” Viggo murmured, gazing at Orlando.  Orlando gulped.

“Re—really?” he stammered, trying to keep his voice calm.  Viggo nodded.

“Yeah . . .”

The music continued.

“You shouldn’t kiss me like this unless you mean it like that.  ‘Cause I’ll just close my eyes, and I won’t know where I’m at.  We’ll get lost on this dance floor, spinnin’ around, and around and around and around . . . They’re all watching us now.  They think we’re falling in love.  They’d never believe we’re just friends.  When you kiss me like this, I think you mean it like that.  And if you do, baby, kiss me again . . .”

Orlando laughed nervously.

“Still think it encompasses your feelings?” he asked lightly, turning to look at Viggo.  Viggo paused and pushed himself into the water heading towards the deeper end of the pool.  Orlando followed him.

“Actually, it does,” Viggo replied softly turning to face Orlando.  The British actor’s breath hitched as Viggo pulled Orlando to him, the older man’s hands resting on Orlando’s hips.  Viggo looked intently into Orlando’s eyes for a moment before leaning in to capture Orlando’s lips.  Orlando knew if he died right then and there in Viggo’s arms, he would be a happy man.

Orlando melted into Viggo’s embrace and drew his arms around the other man’s neck.  This felt perfect.  Exactly the way it was supposed to.  Viggo pulled out of their kiss and studied Orlando, his hands tracing patterns on Orlando’s skin.  “Please don’t hate me for that,” he whispered, a fear shining in his eyes, vulnerable for once in his life.  Orlando smiled and shook his head, leaning forward.

“Never,” he murmured against Viggo’s lips before pressing his own against them.

“Everybody swears we make the perfect pair, but dancin’ is as far as it goes.  Girl, you’ve never moved me quite the way you moved me tonight.  I just wanted you to know.  I just wanted you to know . . . You shouldn’t kiss me like this unless you mean it like that.  ‘Cause I’ll just close my eyes, and I won’t know where I’m at.  We’ll get lost on this dance floor, spinnin’ around, and around and around and around . . . They’re all watching us now.  They think we’re falling in love.  They’d never believe we’re just friends.  When you kiss me like this, I think you mean it like that.  And if you do, baby, kiss me again.  Kiss me   again . . .”

The music faded away and Viggo and Orlando still stayed locked in each other’s arms.  Orlando was reveling in the feel of the moment.  Viggo brought one hand up to toy with Orlando’s wet curls.

“God, you’re beautiful,” the older man whispered before brushing his lips over Orlando’s again.

“Viggo . . .” Orlando reluctantly interrupted what he had dreamt of for so long.  Viggo pulled away immediately, his hand brushing a strand of wet hair away from Orlando’s face.

“What’s wrong?” the older man asked worriedly.  Orlando almost laughed at the sight of Viggo.  He pulled the man closer and nuzzled his neck.

“Nothing, but . . . why don’t we bring this upstairs?”  Orlando looked earnestly at Viggo, who wore an expression of surprise and shock.

“Are—Are you sure?” he croaked.  Orlando grinned.

“Well, were we going to stay down here all night?” the Brit teased, his eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

“Oh, shut up,” Viggo snapped, kissing him again.  “Come on, then.”

Orlando laughed as they clambered out of the pool.  He pulled Viggo under the overhang near the door and kissed him, tangling his fingers in the other man’s hair.  Viggo maneuvered Orlando to the door and inserted the key, managing to turn it and open the door without breaking their kiss.  They pulled apart, however, when they stepped inside the building just in case someone stepped out of the elevator.  Orlando pressed the ‘up’ button to call the elevator.  They both stood there waiting impatiently, tapping their feet.  Finally, the elevator arrived, and they tumbled into it.

“Elevators take too long,” Viggo grumbled as he hit the button for floor seven.

“I agree,” Orlando replied, breathlessly watching the metal doors slide shut.  He crossed the lift and quickly covered Viggo’s mouth with his own, their tongues dueling.  The lift stopped on the second floor to let a middle-aged woman and her young daughter on.  Orlando and Viggo sprung apart as the doors opened, the woman casting them odd looks when they refused to look anywhere but the floor, their faces flushed and lips full.  They got off on the fourth floor.  As the elevator doors closed, Viggo stepped over and wrapped his arms around Orlando’s waist, pulling him closer.  He leaned down and kissed his way up Orlando’s jaw to his mouth.  Orlando’s heart as pounding; he still couldn’t believe what was happening.

The doors opened on the seventh floor.  Orlando laced his fingers with Viggo’s and pulled him onto the floor.  They ran down the hall to the apartment they now shared, 7H.  Orlando fumbled with the key, slightly distracted by Viggo’s arms once again around his waist and his lips kissing the back of his neck.  He finally managed to insert the key into the lock and turn it.  They tumbled into the apartment, Orlando negligently tossing the key onto the table just inside the door and missing.  He twisted around in Viggo’s embrace and guided the older man’s mouth to his own.  They moved down the short hallway into the eating area/living room. 

Orlando broke the kiss and pulled away, darting past the bathroom into the master bedroom, jumping onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room.  Viggo followed him and tackled him on the bed, lying on top of him.  He kissed his British lover softly, pushing him back against the pillows.  Orlando moaned into Viggo’s mouth and began tugging at the man’s shirt.  Soon, all clothes were discarded and the thick bedcovers were pushed back.  Their first time was Orlando’s first with anyone.  They took their time, their hands mapping out and memorizing uncharted areas.  Moans and soft cries echoed throughout the apartment as Viggo and Orlando reached their climaxes.  Orlando laid his head on Viggo’s chest, listening to the man’s racing heart.  Viggo’s hands gently caressed his younger lover’s back and shoulders, tangling themselves in his chestnut curls.  Orlando slid himself up to lay half on top of Viggo and gazed at the sight below him.  Viggo was breathing deeply, his eyes half-lidded. Orlando sighed, his heart aching.  He pushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his lover’s eyes and rested his hand on his chest.

“You’re beautiful, Orlando,” Viggo murmured as he pulled the younger man to him, their eyes locking.  He stroked the Brit’s curls, his other hand around his shoulders.  The younger man smiled.

“Viggo, kiss me again,” Orlando whispered, leaning into Viggo’s arms.