So yes, it was not really original to show up at Orlando's house in the evening with a bottle of wine. Moreover, it proved to be in vain. The windows were all dark. Obviously, Orlando was not at home.
He should have known. From what he had picked up, Orlando was rarely at home. Now that he had decided he wanted to quit that role as silent, passive watcher and make a new start, he didn't want to give up that easily. He was tired of all those frustrating weeks of futile reflection. So he went back to his car to drive into town in search of his fellow cast members who were surely once again partying at one of the local pubs.
***
He should have come with the others when they had invited him, more than once, to join them for a glass or two, he soon realized with regret. Then he would have known the places they normally frequented, and wouldn't have stumbled in vain from one establishment to the next. No trace of Sean or the hobbits anywhere to be found. Nor of Orlando.
After two hours of unsuccessfully cruising the town he almost wanted to give up when he finally spotted the pub whose name sounded familiar. Quickly, he got out of the car and moved up to the entrance. Passing a dark cul-de-sac he heard some mumbled sounds that made him stop in his tracks. His heart stopped when he discovered that there in the shadows was Orlando - it could be no doubt about it, he would have recognized him anywhere.
But he was not alone.
Someone must have picked him up and was now trying to take advantage of Orlando's hopelessly drunken condition. "Hey, what's the matter with you? The other man asked as Orlando staggered and leaned against the wall. "Thought you *wanted* me to give you a blow-job. Seems that you're not much interested any longer, huh?"
"Ah, go on, I don't mind," Orlando muttered vaguely.
"You don't mind! Now if that's not a compliment," the other man seethed. "I feel really flattered! You fucking actors believe you can get everyone with just a snip of your fingers!"
"Yeah, everyone," Orlando drawled. "Every. Single. One. Except the one I really want. But you're right, I'm no longer interested. Actually, I feel quite sick now. Better get lost, mate."
"Fuck yourself, you ass," the other man snorted and stepped out of the shades leaving Orlando to slowly sink down with his back against the wall until he hit the ground.
"Hey, here's a cheap offer: good-looking, too" the other man grumbled as he passed Viggo, nodding over at Orlando. " That is, if submissiveness turns you on. You can do anything with him. He won't mind."
Viggo shot him a glance through narrowed eyes, but didn't reply. Without hesitating he stepped up to Orlando, who was curled up on the ground like a heap of clothes. "The only thing I fancy right now is getting him home before he lands himself in some more trouble," he thought.
"You're really drunk, boy, aren't you?" he said, patting Orlando's back.
"Not nearly drunk enough," came the blurred answer.
"So I'm sure you'll manage getting up. Come on, Orlando. I'm going to take you home."
"Ah, the man with the pierced heart is going to take me home. Then I'm safe. I can be sure he won't touch the nasty little elf. Hail, my king and saviour! Rescue this Elven scum!"
Viggo rolled his eyes." Seems you have a sense of melodrama, too. You drunken elf!"
"Didn't you know the Elves of Mirkwood have a penchant for good wine?. My father, King Thranduil, had an excellent wine cellar."
"No, I didn't know that. Now get up, Orlando.," He seized his cast mate under the arms and tried to lift him, but Orlando was very, very reluctant to leave his place. In the end Viggo somehow managed to put him into the car, where Orlando fell asleep within seconds.
"Phew, hard work," Viggo commented. "But now that we've settled this, what's next? Your place or mine?" He looked over to his passenger who was soundly asleep next to him. It was clear that he could not expect an answer from Orlando.
So, it was Viggo's place. He felt a little awkward about it. But it would have been even more awkward to enter Orlando's house the middle of the night, almost like burglary. Moreover, he couldn't simply drop Orlando at his place, drunk as he was, and then leave. What if he was really sick and needed help?
What difference did it make, after all, if they stayed at Viggo's house? Orlando could sleep of his drunkenness in Viggo's bed, and Viggo would install himself on the couch in the living room. And in the morning Orlando would be forced to talk to him whether he wanted it or not.
Weighing the pros and cons Viggo felt like a hypocrite. All he really wanted was that Orlando slept at his place. In his bed. Quickly, his mind was racing on to other things he would have wanted to do to Orlando. The words of the man on the street still rang in his ears: "You can do anything with him. He won't mind."
The idea of Orlando's passivity turned him on, he had to admit that. But God, no, what was he thinking again? Taking advantage of a drunken man was worse, much worse than turning him down. After such an incident he would never be able to look into Orlando's eyes without regret ... and shame. And he didn't want to screw up everything again. He wanted to make a new start. Therefore, Orlando would be as safe at Viggo's place as at his own. So that was settled then.
"Oh boy," he sighed. "Sometimes I feel as if you bring the worst out of me. But I can't leave you alone. I simply can't."
He cast a last glance at the sleeping man next to him and started the car.
