Abigail had called just when they'd been finishing dinner.
It hadn't been a bad day: shooting had been somewhat less hectic than usual, and Sean had managed not to die of a heat stroke in Boromir costume. The hobbits had wanted a night out, clubbing, but that wasn't really Sean's game anymore. He'd declined, and felt too old when Elijah had pouted at him. Since John didn't want to see anyone because of his rash, and had cancelled their chess game, Sean had found himself inviting the new Aragorn over for a bite and a beer.
He liked Viggo. The man was an oddball, but Sean liked him. And it felt like they had a lot in common -- ex-wives, kids, even art. In the few weeks since Viggo had joined the cast, Sean had found himself more centered. He had good mates in the others -- they could always make him laugh when he needed it. Viggo -- Viggo was his friend. Sometimes Viggo was silent, and they didn't say much; but it'd always felt like he'd know how to give Sean what he needed, even when Sean himself didn't know what that might be.
They'd spent a good evening together; Viggo had been telling him how Aragorn's sword 'resonated' when he meditated with it close, and Sean was just being a pest for the sake of it -- "Exactly how close are we talking about here, Vig?" -- when the phone had rung. The machine'd started taking the message, but Sean hadn't been able to ignore that voice. It'd been like being pulled away: all of a sudden the cosy living room in Wellington had faded, and
Sean, reaching for the phone, had almost felt himself slide into another place. A much colder place.
Oh, and she'd known what hurt most. Amazing how she'd never managed to pick up on things that made Sean content, but the ones that pissed him off? She'd never missed a single one.
It hadn't been so bad, after all. They were divorcing: most of their phonecalls were like that; but for some reason, this time Sean'd found himself shaking, with anger and frustration and longing -- yes, even that -- and had been in that other world, where the seasons were different and it was winter, until he'd felt Viggo come up next to him, Viggo's arms tugging on him, never relenting – not even when Sean had tried to resist -- until he'd been safely wrapped up in Viggo's arms, on the sofa, Viggo's legs on either side of him, Sean's head safely tucked in under Viggo's chin.
Sean had tried to speak. To say he was sorry, that he shouldn't have let Viggo see... But Viggo had just started humming something under his breath -- something tuneless and awful, to be sure -- and rocked a little, cradling him. Sean had felt the vibrations against his ear, through Viggo's chest.
Viggo couldn't sing for shite, Sean had thought, and smiled. He'd stopped shaking after a while.
Viggo hadn't let go -- though he had stopped singing.
Sean sat in the grass, in the shade of the costume trailer, shaking his head and chuckling to himself in equal measure. Exene was sitting beside him, in his actor's chair, smoking and looking amused. It was the last week of Henry's stay in New Zealand, and she'd come to take him home; Sean knew that she was staying in a hotel, letting Viggo have Henry all to himself for the rest of the time.
"Yeah, that's a great idea," Viggo's voice, impressed, reached them from where he was, crouching on the ground in his Strider gear next to his son, who was wearing a Lorien cloak: he was plotting some prank to get back to Orlando for... some other prank -- Sean couldn't honestly remember what it was this time -- and apparently, having the help of a twelve year old with lots of recent playground experience in his cv was essential when one was involved in such schemes.
Sean couldn't wait to see where that was going to go; he had a feeling he'd need to keep an eye out for the next round in this new, improved version of the war.
When the elf walked past on his way to the set, father and son did a terribly convincing job of reenacting the scene where Aragorn lets Frodo go at Amon Hen; as for looking all innocence and paying no mind to Orlando...
"He's done for," Exene stated, matter-of-factly, and Sean could only agree.
"Orlando'll have his arse," he grinned, and she laughed out loud.
"Not from where I'm sitting, hon," she said, as matter-of-factly as before. Smoke curled up in the air, ghostly grey fading in the bright summer light. Sean looked at her.
She was still smiling, though her eyes were quite serious. "Henry's happy," she said. "Good enough for me."
Sean nodded. Henry and Viggo came over, Henry sitting near his mother, telling her and Sean about the plan. Viggo smiled contentedly at Sean, and stretched out on the grass beside him, his fingers resting near Sean's hand, barely touching, just there.
An early autumn afternoon, and Sean finds himself with his arms full of shaking, broken Viggo, crying hard over a death that isn't real but feels too much like it is. Sean glares all around the set, grateful when he sees most people have tears in their eyes as well, or are looking away, their faces averted -- out of respect or politeness or just embarrassment, he doesn't care. He glares harder at the ones that look about to make some sort of remark, until Peter lets them all go for the day.
He takes Viggo through makeup and costume, puts him in his car, takes him home.
It's only early evening, but it doesn't matter. Viggo looks around, then looks at Sean as though he's about to apologise, so Sean just wraps him up in his arms, and does everything he can to give Viggo what he needs.
Melanie was showing the girls around today, so they weren't on set: their visit in Wellington is almost over, and she wanted to see the area. They're staying with Sean, of course; the place is big enough. Sean hears them come back later that night, hears the girls chatter happily downstairs, then their voices fading away towards their room.
Mel's bedroom is on the other side of Sean's in the same corridor, so Sean knows she's coming up. He knows she's going to come in to say good night before retiring, because that's what they always do.
She does look a little startled when she sees Viggo, quietly sleeping half on top of Sean as though he belongs there, their legs entwined, Sean's arms around him, keeping him safely in place. Sean thinks that the sheets are covering Viggo decently enough, but can't be sure; it doesn't matter, and besides, he doesn't want to move to check: it's taken a long time for Viggo to finally fall asleep, and no way in hell Sean's going to disturb him now.
He just looks at her, partly uncertain, partly defiant: he's held her like this, at times, before things started to drift apart; she's held him like this. She can understand, Sean thinks. His mate... his friend... Viggo needs him, and whatever else this might be, Sean needs to be here for him. Needs to be what Viggo needs.
Melanie steps back. Sean knows her well enough to know they won't speak of this in the morning; but he sees her mouthing "'Night, love," before the door closes quietly, carefully, without a sound.
Sean tightens his arms around Viggo, feels him smile in his sleep.
"'Night, love," Sean murmurs in Viggo's hair, content, and closes his eyes.
Summary: Families. The good, the bad, the forming of.
Rated: PG
Categories: Actor RPS Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Warnings: NoneChallenges:
Series: NoneChapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 1307 Read: 1058
Published: 31 Jul 2009 Updated: 31 Jul 2009