It doesn't sound like a very impressive thing to do. Have done. Be doing. Making a list, and checking them off, one by one.
Orlando is not a methodical man.
He does not keep a written list.
But he keeps one in his mind. Consciously, he doesn't even know it.
One by one, they all succumb.
He's suckled Sir Ian's neck on his twenty-third birthday, a chance nuzzling encounter on a corridor in the dark.
Groped Andy's arse while they were near the back of the bunch crowded around hearkening to one of PJ's group speeches.
Kissed Miranda under her left cheek, kissed Liv under her right, delighted in the glories of female breasts, and kissed Karl full on the lips.
Enjoyed Viggo's mouth taking its hot, sweet time on his Elfhood. Orlando saw stars brighter than ones visible from Rivendell.
He returned the favor by going down on Sean in Boromir costume, made sure he saw stars as well.
John punched him on the shoulder jokingly, dismissively, and promised to buy him a drink. But in his eyes Orlando knew he'd understood, and for one second there had been something in John's eyes that sparked like something Orlando had recognized.
He looks for it, and he finds it.
Cate pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he found out the possible ways of enjoying oneself in a foursome with Billy, Dominic, and Elijah Wood. The hobbit orgy took a while to orchestrate; he had to go by them one by one.
But Astin was a stubborn wall of immobile stone, cool and impassive, resolute.
Orlando didn't get very far into trying until he gave up.
But only for a bit, to concentrate elsewhere.
To try, try again.
--
There is a table with a gigantic cooler of water. They'd run out of bottled water for today, and for now everyone was drinking from the cooler with small paper cups.
They are filming a bit with mostly Sam and Frodo, and everyone has probably changed out of their Middle Earth clothes. Most of the cast finished a while ago.
Sean walks over towards the table in his hobbit feet. It is a warm day. He takes a paper cup and drinks soundlessly, feels slightly cooler.
Someone walks onto his side to take up his or her own cup of water. Sean stares at the sky. Finishes his water.
He looks over. Orli drinks his like a shot, only there is too much water and it dribbles over his face and sends small, inconsequential droplets on his white shirt. Orlando is wearing jeans with holes in them. Sean looks away from Orli's knees.
Orlando gets another cup already filled with water. Aims for the mouth, but also intending to wet the skin of his throat. Water dribbles down his shirt. It sticks to him in wet patches near the collar, over his chest.
Sean does not want to find out if Orli's eyes are glinting, again, the way they have been for months.
The way Sean Astin's ignored, dutifully, with the ocassional bit lip, until it deflects onto somebody else.
Sean doesn't realize he is the only one left.
He walks away while Orlando reaches for another cup, before either of them says anything.