Sitting alone in the snow, in his costume, apart from the crew setting up location, Viggo runs his fingers lightly over the dark, heavy cloth; he can't feel its texture, of course, because he's wearing gloves; but he knows how it feels all the same, the smoothness of the finely woven wool, the velvet inserts, the small bumps of the decorative patterns. He turns it over in his hands, and his fingers pass through the luscious, rich fur lining, dark and thick and so, so soft.
The wind picks up, the cold bites into him a little more, but the rock wall at his back shields him well.
He draws Boromir's cloak tight over his shoulders, taking a long breath.
"Feel like hiding, do you?" Breathless laughter makes Viggo turn his head a little, in time to see Sean hiking up to him, Boromir with no sword nor shield
nor – cloak.
Sean is smiling, white puffs of warm air leaving him with each breath. Viggo noticed early on that Sean breathes through his mouth a lot. It's kind of endearing.
"I need that, Ranger."
Viggo doesn't answer. He scoots over on the flat rock, making space. Sean is sitting close to him in a heartbeat, hands tugging on the cloak not to take it back, but to get under it. He's not satisfied until he's got both of them huddled warmly into it, his side pressing against Viggo's.
Viggo shifts his arm, the one that's not holding his side of the cloak, sliding it around Sean's waist, letting Sean move a little closer.
"Bad time?" Sean quietly asks, warm puffing breath caressing the side of Viggo's face.
"Just having a moment," Viggo says, and can see Sean's smirk even without turning.
"With my cloak?"
"With Boromir's cloak." The distinction seems important, so Viggo makes his voice firm.
Somehow, Sean seems to catch the difference, though Viggo himself is not quite sure. They let the silence drift between them for a while; of course it's not a real silence, since they have close to three dozens of people, cast and crew close by, and even though a slope in the ground is hiding them from view, Viggo can hear the hobbits and their doubles having a vicious snowball fight.
"Is this," Sean says after some more time, "some kind of fetish thing?"
"Hm." Viggo burrows his cold nose into the thick fur, inhales deeply. "Think so, yeah."
"I would leave the two of you alone, but I was freezing my arse off..."
Viggo lets Sean see the little smile this provokes out of him, but still doesn't feel like small talk. It's warm and comfortable under the cloak, even more so now that he has Sean pressed up to him. He tightens his hold around Sean's waist, letting his mind wander.
Sean wasn't really comfortable with this, the first times – fooling around with manly hugs and tackles and stuff you usually get in male changing rooms was fine; but he would stiffen up if someone would put his arm around his waist rather than his shoulders, or
if – Viggo – would take his hand.
He would stiffen, but not retreat.
Viggo took some time noticing that this wasn't because Sean was uncomfortable –
it was that he needed to be sure no one would... not so much as see it, but remark on it. Then he would relax, lean into
it – even give something back.
The first time Viggo had kissed him...
"Peter was wondering where you'd gotten to," Sean softly says, disrupting Viggo's reverie like a finger dipping into clear, calm water.
"I need to go back?"
"Not yet." Sean stretches his legs in front of him, disturbing the snow. He casually asks, voice soft and quiet, "Is it because of last night?"
He says it as though he doesn't care one way or the other, but of course he knows Viggo won't buy it, so he doesn't try to cover up the shade of uncertainty that creeps in. Viggo fights not to let out his sigh.
"No," he says, but he knows that Sean won't buy this either, so he adds,
"Maybe – but not really."
Sean draws clumsy lines in the snow with the soles of his boots, digging up the frozen ground underneath. "We could... try again," he quietly offers.
"What for?" Viggo is again taken by how warm, how beautiful Sean's – Boromir's cloak is. "You don't like it. It's not your fault. Or mine," he adds, looking down at the dark velvet patterns. He'd have to take his arm off Sean to reach out and touch them. It doesn't seem worth the trouble.
"I never really liked it," Sean acknowledges, agreeing with him. His voice is soft, troubled, but not much. "This doesn't mean..."
"I know." Viggo still doesn't look up from the cloak, but he presses a little closer. Sean is always so warm. "I like it enough for the two of us," he hears himself add, truthfully enough, and chuckles quietly along with Sean.
The first time Viggo had kissed him, Sean had drawn back. He'd looked at Viggo with dark, careful eyes; then he'd looked around; and then he'd smiled, a little shy, happy smile, and treaded his long fingers into Viggo's hair before kissing him back.
Sean likes kissing.
Viggo lifts his head now, not needing to look around to see they're alone–
they have a rock wall behind, and a clear view of the mountainside for miles, in the clear blue morning. He can hear the hobbits still at their snowfight, excited voices carrying far on the wind.
He takes his arm off Sean's waist at last, but only to let it travel up Sean's back, to his shoulder, until he has his hand on the hand that Sean keeps closed around the edge of the cloak; he takes it and manages to cover both of their heads with the heavy dark cloth, fumbling a little, until he can look into Sean's eyes in the newly-made shade, and then he can come closer still and lean his cheek against Sean's cheek; and though they're cold, Sean doesn't flinch, and Viggo doesn't flinch; they rub their cheeks together for a while, slow unrushed motions, making warmth between them. Viggo tilts his head so Sean can run his lips over his forehead, and then again, and again.
Sean's breath is warm, sweet because he's trying to quit smoking, so he's sucking on candies all day. Viggo smiles a little at the oddness of that
thought – Sean tasting like candy, innocent and sweet, much like a girl –
and Sean presses his lips to Viggo's temple and drops a secret smiling kiss there, in Viggo's hair, asking nothing.
Sean likes kissing Viggo, when no one's around – or when someone is, but it's all right for them that they can be this close, this happy.
Viggo thinks he likes being kissed, being with Sean like this; likes these moments when they're so close he can almost believe he doesn't need words to communicate with Sean, to be with Sean. It's something he doesn't recall having ever had before, with other people he'd been close to. It feels safe; good; sometimes, it almost feels enough.
Boromir's cloak is dark, warm, heavy; it's perfect to hide in.
Viggo sighs at last, drops a gentle kiss on Sean's parted lips and draws back a little, enough to look Sean in the eye. "I'll give it back, if you need it," he whispers, and waits to see Sean's eyes smile in assent.
Sean is looking calmly at him, though, and his eyes don't smile. "Seems to me," Sean whispers back, quiet and thoughtful, "that you're the one who ran away with it."
The wind takes distant voices up to them, but there's no one around, no one to see them huddled in the safe cocoon of Boromir's cloak; and even if there was, there wouldn't be much to
see – they're hidden from view. They're safe.
Viggo has chosen a good spot.
Sean is looking into his eyes, and it's Viggo who has hidden them both under the cloak, out of sight of
everyone – because Sean feels self-conscious with people around; but it's Viggo, who always manages to never have people around in the first place.
And so, suddenly, Viggo sees the difference right enough – this is Boromir's cloak; it's just a cloak, out of many. But it's not Sean's.
It's not Sean.
"You don't like it," Sean says, resting his free, gloved hand against Viggo's cheek, the warmth of the touch so familiar, so intimate, Viggo has to look away. Sean withdraws his hand. "It's all right," he says, his voice quiet, betraying nothing.
"I'm sorry," Viggo whispers, the cloak around them so hot it could suffocate him. "It doesn't mean..."
"Yeah," Sean says, his eyes finally smiling – almost the way they had the first time Viggo had called his name, walking up to him one evening on the deserted beach outside Sean's house, and kissed him.
Sean is smiling almost the way he had smiled last night, letting Viggo have his way even though he didn't care for
it – when he'd looked into Viggo's eyes and said, I love you.
Sean is almost looking at Viggo like that again, when he says, "I like it enough for the two of us."
Sean's smile doesn't come out right under the safe shield of the cloak, Viggo thinks. So he leans in and kisses it away, willing his own hands to let go, to release their hold on Boromir's cloak, letting it slide slowly back. The air is icy, colder that before; but Sean is there, and his arms are warmer than any cloak, and they feel right enough, keeping Viggo close.
And it could be safe enough, after all. Good enough.
Enough for two.
Summary: Viggo, Sean, snow and Boromir's cloak.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1641 Read: 944
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009