Summary: Viggo needs to go somewhere.

Rated: NC-17

Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo

Warnings: None

Challenges:

Series: A Long Journey

Chapters: 9 Completed: Yes

Word count: 30289 Read: 12260

Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009

*****

"When you're standing at the crossroads,
Don't know which path to choose,
Let me come along,
'Cause even if you're wrong
I'll stand by you,
Won't let nobody hurt you."

*****

It was, in Sean's opinion, all a bit too much. It wasn't just that Viggo had to know about the bloke he'd picked up--of course Sean had realised that he was bound to know, sooner or later--or that he acted like it wasn't freaking him out... Now he had to go and tell Sean--those things.

Those things that couldn't be true.

Because if they were...

He lifted his hands, shoving Viggo's arms out of the way, pushing him off and away--so he wouldn't have to deal with what having Viggo so close was doing to him--and got up, facing him.

But before he could say anything, Viggo asked, "Why can't you tell me?" In that voice of his, the one he got when he was working on something, trying to figure out how a photo or a picture or a phrase would turn out.

That voice always made Sean crazy. Why the hell should Viggo think there was an explanation for everything? There wasn't! Or if there was, sometimes it just didn't bear to take it out in the open.

"That's enough," he said, trying to maintain his own voice even. Viggo just continued to look at him, studying him, still trying to solve the bloody Sean-puzzle. He said nothing.

And that *was* enough.

"C'mon, say it!" Sean cried, and had the fleeting satisfaction of seeing Viggo jump a little, startled. "Say it, for God's sake, and quit taking the piss!" He gritted his teeth. "I'm a good for nothing wanker, all right? Just say it, and get it over with. I know you want to."

And then the most amazing thing happened. Because, instead of tell Sean to fuck off, or whatever, Viggo just tilted his head a bit, still looking at him, looking at him for a long time, during which the sun actually went down behind the Rocky Mountains and night fell, sudden and cold, making Sean shiver. Or was that because of Viggo's eyes, now so dark.

"I think you're a stupid fucker anyway," at last Viggo said, his voice only a whisper, but clear and perfectly audible. Something in his eyes, in his pose, shifted then, softened, and in a sad voice he added, "But then, so am I."

And before Sean could say anything he added, "For I fell in love with you all the same."

*****
He couldn't have heard that right.
"You..."

Viggo just looked on. Sean blinked, regrouped. "I didn't know you swung," he finished lamely, and it was utter bullshit, as Viggo let him know by rolling his eyes. And he did not let Sean stray from the point.

"I like women," he said. "I like men." He took a step forward, but without coming too close. His eyes pinned Sean to the wall. "I *love* you."

But Sean couldn't say anything to that, because how could Viggo say that? Why was he saying that? That--which had always been there, between them, buried so deep as to never come to light. Now Viggo was digging it out, exposing it for Sean to see, acknowledge it, to never let him deny it anymore.

Why?

And then, just like that, Viggo was gone.

Sean turned just in time to see him go back inside the house, and heard him say, "Dinner's almost ready."

And even that didn't make sense.

Because, of course Viggo loved him. He loved Viggo. That was hardly news, but it was hardly the point, too. Was it? Sean liked men, too. He had sex with them--the world could actually tell you that, now--had always found that pleasurable, hell, even hot sometimes.

But love.

What was Viggo thinking?

So, all right, that Viggo wasn't entirely straight, he'd always known. Suspected. Whatever. He'd always felt Viggo wouldn't say no to sex with him--it had been there, between them, almost since day one, in New Zealand.

That was exactly why Sean had never asked.

Sean could love a friend, sure, but why he had to say he was in love? Sean had never been in love with a bloke. And a bloke who was a very close friend, at that. No way. He didn't even think it was possible--love had always seemed more like something you reserved for women.

Except, he thought letting his forehead rest against the wall, that wasn't true.

He'd thought he had never come on to Viggo because he was afraid he would ruin their relationship, so easygoing, so caring--sex tended to do that to relationships. Three failed marriages had taught him that much at least.

And *that* was exactly the point. He had been in love with his ex-wives, but that hadn't been enough to prevent the downfall. The hurt. The end of everything. It was so scary.

He'd been in love with Viggo for almost three years now.

He'd already been, that distant day in the clearing, watching Viggo sleep, not thinking at all, just... watching him.

Feeling so filled with a kind of quiet happiness, if he'd been honest with himself, he would have known all along what it was.

And Viggo now had gone and said it all out loud.

Could he really know? Know that being with Viggo, so close and so afraid of being so close, was what had pushed Sean over the edge, made him crazy--made him go out and find someone who was just enough to fuel his dreams, but not enough to ruin them with reality?

Viggo had been almost angry, when he had asked why Sean had done it and hadn't gotten an answer.

Angry because he had gone and laid it out in the open, and Sean had refused to follow.

But, how could Sean follow? It would just make everything go to hell.

It had already started.

"This *is* stupid," Sean murmured to the wall.

The wall didn't contradict him.

*****

Henry called while they were having dinner that night. Sean watched Viggo as he talked to his son, and once again it hit him, hard, how much he missed his daughters. Because yes, what had happened was bad for his career, but what it really hurt was that he couldn't think of what it was doing to his girls--he couldn't think how they would react. Evie and even Molly were still too young to know, but Lorna...

"Why don't you call them?"

He looked up, to see Viggo had hung up and was looking at him, a knowing, understanding look in his eyes.

Sean shook his head. "I can't," he said. "Not yet."

Viggo looked as if he wanted to add something, but in the end he just said, "You know, you just should quit moping around. It's not the end of the world, after all. I mean--look what happened with Hugh Grant and what's-her-name."

At Sean's confused frown, Viggo shrugged, went on. "And he was a 'guy next door' kind of guy. You are a baddie. People expect it from you to be perverse and debauched. It lends you credibility."

Sean just stared, dumbfounded.

"Seriously," Viggo drawled, raising an eyebrow.

And it was so easy, to laugh like that, hearing Viggo laugh with him, Sean could've believed he was really losing it, if not for the fact that, well, of course he wasn't. That was Viggo. So easy to be with.

"You're a loon," Sean shook his head, passing both his hands over his face. Laughing felt good. Something inside of him was suddenly warmer, more relaxed, than it had been since... forever, it felt like.

"I just like to see you laugh," Viggo softly said. Sean raised his eyes, and his breath caught at the look on his friend's face.

For a moment, it was like they were back in New Zealand. Like Viggo had just woken, and Sean had just watched him for hours, in the tall grass of a meadow full of yellow flowers and sunlight and wind, on a perfect, lost day.

He couldn't really think about it. But the warm, calm feeling stayed with him, so Sean smiled, looking back at Viggo, so grateful--that Viggo could make him laugh, that Viggo could understand him so well, that Viggo didn't push things Sean wasn't really ready to deal with--he just didn't have words.

In the end, he just stood up and asked Viggo if he'd like to watch some TV with him.

*****

So they watched TV together that night. Viggo wasn't sure about it, but Sean told him it was all right. After all, the rest of the world knew about every little sordid detail of what had taken place, so why shouldn't Viggo? They even debated whether Sean should go and have some sort of press conference, make a public statement or something. Amazingly enough, it was Sean who pressed the issue. Staying idle, watching others discuss him, wasn't his sort of thing. Viggo nodded, but thought it would be wiser to consult with his agents, beforehand.

"Plus," he said, seated on the couch near Sean, "what would you say, exactly?"

And that, Sean knew, was the real issue there.

"I'm not gay," he stated, but without looking at Viggo--who, in turn, didn't comment on this. The silence stretched on so long, Sean thought the subject had been dropped, and focused on the TV screen.

Viggo's voice, low but steady, came unexpectedly to jolt him out of his thoughts.

"I am."

Startled, Sean turned his eyes on him. Viggo was sitting on his right, completely relaxed, eyes on the tv, but not really watching it, Sean could tell by the thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" He couldn't help but ask.

Viggo turned as well, looking almost annoyed. "I would've thought that much was clear, by now. What with me declaring my love and all."

Sean knew he was staring at him like a total arse, but really. "I... you..." In the end, he chose to ignore the last phrase. "You've been married." And felt like slapping himself upside the head as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Viggo didn't seem to mind, though. He had that thoughtful look again. "I was," he said after a long time. "Don't think it'll happen again. It could--who knows." He sighed. "But people loves labels. And if I had to choose a label... as opposed at having one forced on me..." He looked up, looked directly into Sean's eyes "... I'd define myself as gay."

Sean processed this. "You would, at that," he said at last, though why this surprised him he couldn't tell. It was just the kind of thing Viggo would say. Would do. It was, after all, Viggo who had just gone and said he was in love with Sean, not many hours before.

Suddenly, he felt angry again. Why was all of this happening? Why couldn't Viggo just let things stay as they had always been? The realisation that Viggo would have, if only Sean hadn't gone and made a fool of himself, hit him not for the first time. They had reached a turning point, and whichever way they would decide to go, things would be no longer as they had been before.

Sean knew he was really more scared than anything else, that his anger was just fear trying to get the better of him. But in the end, it didn't matter. It didn't matter that nothing of that was Viggo's fault, because Sean was afraid, he was afraid while Viggo looked so damn calm--and this annoyed the hell out of him.

"So," he said, conversationally, "you still want me to tell you what he did?" and gestured to the TV, seeing Viggo's eyes follow his gesture, flickering over the man who'd been arrested with Sean that crazy night. When Viggo returned his eyes to him, Sean could see a glimmer of uncertainty--but it was already too late to stop. He shifted on the couch, turning towards Viggo, getting on hands and knees, and crawled slowly to him, satisfied when Viggo's eyes went wide, when Viggo moved backwards, his back trapped by the couch.

And Sean was over him.

"I can't tell you," he whispered, and reached out with a hand, touching Viggo's chest--his heart was beating so fast under Sean's palm--trailing up, brushing his shoulder, caressing his neck.

"'Cause *he* didn't do anything."

Yes, Viggo's eyes were wide. Dark. Sean's saw himself reflected there, and as he had known it would, his anger left, suddenly as it had come, and he was left there, so close to Viggo he could feel their breaths mingling together, could feel how warm--burning, really--Viggo was, could smell the clean scent of him, soap and wood-smoke and oil paint; he could, above all else, *hear* how fast Viggo's heart was beating.

"He was..." Sean said, and he lifted his hand, "... too young," he said, tracing the contours of Viggo's face, ever so faintly. His stubbled jaw. "Too strange." Viggo's cheekbones, his brows, his nose. Those familiar features Sean had gotten to know so well. That familiar face he had felt happy watching relaxed in sleep. He traced the scar on the left upper lip--he brushed Viggo's lips, and felt him shiver.

Viggo closed his eyes, and Sean had to close his own, too.

"He was too *wrong*," he finished, so low he couldn't tell whether Viggo had heard him or not. But when he reopened his eyes, Viggo was looking up right at him, and his hands had reached up, one on Sean's own chest, the other had closed behind Sean's neck, and they were now keeping him in place, so near, so close, and was that really Viggo's heart, so loud in Sean's own ears?

"So show me," Viggo whispered, his voice husky, more so than Sean had ever heard it, sending shivers up his spine, making him feel like he was falling, and that, surely, couldn't be happening.

"Show me what you did," Viggo said, but his voice had already changed, there was an edge in it that hadn't been there only moments before--and it grounded Sean.

Viggo was daring him.

"As you wish," Sean murmured, and grabbing Viggo by the shoulders he pushed him back against the cushions of the couch, and was over him, straddling him. "I'll show you," he growled, "*exactly* what I did." He lowered his mouth on Viggo's, then deliberately moved away, avoiding his lips, and got instead to Viggo's throat.

Viggo made a small sound at this, whether of distress or relief, Sean couldn't tell, and neither would investigate. He concentrated on suckling hard on the exposed flesh just under Viggo's jaw, feeling his five o'clock shadow scratching his cheek, which only furthered his determination. He took one hand off Viggo's shoulder, and trailed it across his chest, unbuttoning his shirt almost all the way down before getting his hand in, massaging Viggo's stomach, feeling him lay back a little more, giving him space.

Sean stopped suckling, and stopped his hand. He looked down at Viggo's flushed face, and unconsciously licked his lips. His hand hovered over Viggo's fly, silently asking, and Viggo seemed to get it.

"You promised," he breathed, eyes into Sean's. "Show me."

Sean nodded. He leaned closer, whispering into Viggo's ear, "Then I need to get off the couch." And before Viggo could say anything, he did just that, sliding down until he was kneeling on the floor, kneading Viggo's legs apart with his hands--and then he left them there, stroking slowly up Viggo's legs, from the knees to the inside of his thighs--where he stopped.

And looked up again.

Viggo was watching him, and it looked like he was holding his breath... yet he still had that puzzled, waiting look, he still was trying to figure Sean out, even in this. For a moment, Sean couldn't move. He thought back to that night in his own car, when he'd been in almost the same position and had looked up to that strange, too young--wrong--face and wished with all his heart he could be with Viggo instead.

And now he was.

Point of no return, he thought. It couldn't be anymore like before, whatever he did. Viggo seemed to want this. And Sean... Hell.

It wasn't as if he hadn't spent the last three years of his life dreaming of this.

He lowered his face to Viggo's clothed crotch, and nuzzled it with the side of his face, feeling it harden under his touch, feeling all of Viggo tense up when he mouthed him through the light denim. He traced alongside the button fly with his nose, then with his teeth, lightly. Viggo closed one hand over the edge of the cushion, a white-knuckled grip; the other hand, Sean could feel it, was hovering just above his head, unsure if coming to rest in his hair. Strange how such a small, insignificant gesture all of a sudden seemed to become so important. Sean only knew he wanted that hand on his head, in his hair, keeping him close, urging him on. He kissed the swelling under his lips, closed his eyes.

When he finally felt Viggo's fingers on his scalp, Sean sighed.

Viggo's cellphone rang.

*****

It was just too ridiculous. And when they both groaned simultaneously, Sean couldn't help but chuckle--though his mouth was still against Viggo's groin, so that produced another, more interesting groan from above.

With an effort, Sean moved--though not much--and rested his forehead against Viggo's thigh. "You know," he said, trying for casual but not entirely pulling it off, "you could just turn it off, sometimes." His voice didn't sound too steady even to his own ears.

Viggo seemed to have as much problem in recovering his own voice. The damn thing kept on jingling. At last Viggo took a deep breath, muttered something like "I would, if I managed to remember I have it," and shoved Sean off his leg--but gently, his hand maybe lingering a little--managing to crawl along the couch to reach the coffee-table on the opposite end, and retrieve the phone.

Sean just stayed where he was, folded his arms on the couch's cushions, rested his head atop them, and watched him.

"Yeah?" Viggo said when he took the call. "Oh, hi, Lij." He looked over at Sean, and sat down where he was.

Whatever Elijah was saying it had to be bad, because Sean saw Viggo roll his eyes, heard him say "Elijah" in quite a warning voice... then, more forcefully, "Elijah. Cut it out." Then he rubbed between his eyes. Sean saw his smile though, and knew it was all right. He wondered if he should get up on the couch--go over to Viggo--or maybe he should just leave.

He stayed where he was.

Then Viggo said, "I don't know," and looked over to Sean, who got the message. He reached out with his hand--after what he'd been up to just moments before, talking to a friend didn't seemed that hard a task.

He winced at his own awful pun, feeling kind of a twat kneeling there on the floor--but then Viggo smiled at him while handing him over the phone, and he forgot all about it.

"Elijah?"

"Beanie!" The kid's cheerful voice pierced his ear, but Sean found himself grinning--that daft child. "How're ya doing? God, we missed you, it's not the same without you."

Sean shook his head, nonplussed. "Lij, we haven't seen each other in *months,*" he pointed out.

"So? Dommie and Orli are driving me crazy. They have the biggest Sean Bean video collection this side of the Atlantic between them, did you know?"

"No," Sean whispered, suddenly feeling, oddly enough, as if something was choking him up. "I didn't."

"Well, they have. And Orli took his over to our place and we stayed home all day watching it. They're sacking out on the floor right now. Wankers," he added, and Sean had to smile at Elijah's terribly fake British accent.

And then, abruptly, Elijah's voice changed, his tone more serious than Sean remembered to ever having heard it.

"Is Viggo listening in?"

Baffled, Sean shot a look over to Viggo, saw him curled up on his side of the couch, his arms draped around his bent knees, his chin over them, looking at Sean with this kind of... warm... look in his eyes. Sean swallowed, couldn't turn his eyes away again.

"Sean?"

"Uh... no," he remembered to say.

He heard Elijah take a breath. "Look... we saw that... that Danish guy, on TV," he said, and there was surely a special emphasis on 'Danish.' Sean found that after all he *had* to look away.

"Yeah," he said, and waited.

"Well, I'm speaking for the guys too. We wanted you to know, it's all right, you know? I mean--it's not like a surprise or anything. Well, maybe it is, but not a *big* surprise, really. And now we're kind of, you know, hopeful."

Sean sighed. He wasn't in the right frame of mind for hobbity talk right now. "Lij--what exactly are you trying to say?"

A little pause. "We know you can handle the real thing."

Sean knew he was gripping the cell a little too hard, but he didn't care. Sodding prat, he thought. The real feeling and love in Elijah's voice threatened to make him choke up again, so he resorted to his old and trusted tactic.

"Fuck off, Lij." Though there was really little sentiment behind the words.

Elijah knew him all too well by now, because he just laughed--a real carefree, happy laugh. "Yeah, I love you too, you pervy old man." Another little pause, and then the serious Elijah was back. "We love you, Sean."

Sean closed his eyes for a second.

"Yeah," was all he could say. Stupid, sentimental kid. His heart felt as if it was suddenly a few sizes too big, taking up his whole chest.

Elijah could probably tell, for he just said, "Now by all means, go back to boinking each other senseless, I shan't keep you. I have two die-hard Sharpe fans to get into bed." And with a final giggle, he hung up.

Sean looked down for a moment at the cell, then he silently handed it back to Viggo, who took it, turned it off, and let it drop down on the couch between them.

"I'm..."

Viggo cut him off. "Are you sorry?"

Sean didn't look up. "I don't know," he answered, and it was true.

"Sorry that we started it, or that we got interrupted?"

Viggo sounded so calm, so normal. Sean just kept on looking at his own hands. He hadn't any answers for that one, either.

Viggo uncurled, slowly, getting to his feet. "Yeah," Sean heard him say. "Me too."

There was a moment of silence, in which Viggo stood, perfectly still, and Sean knelt, perfectly still, his head bent, looking intently at his own hands. His thoughts were whirling so fast inside his head he just couldn't follow them anymore, so all he could hear, like from the inside of a soundproof room, was a kind of muffled silence. White noise. All he could do was feeling.

And oh--how Viggo had felt under his hands.

Under his mouth.

Then Viggo took a step forward, and Sean felt Viggo's hand in his hair, when Viggo leaned down to place a feathery light kiss on the top of his head. The open hems of his shirt brushed Sean's cheek.

"Stupid fucker," Sean felt, more than heard, him whisper. Or had that been a sigh.

Then Viggo straightened up and walked away.

*****