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Gift fic for alilacia, Pt. 1

Title: Wait No More
Author: ranmaru_fics
Rated: R
Summary: A weekend spent at Ian McKellen’s country home is just what Orlando needs before he goes home for Christmas, but he soon finds he isn’t the only guest Ian invited, and that reunions can also mean a second chance.
Beta: Gattoro the Magnificent, Beta Queen. *loves*
Warning: VigOrli AU, so timelines so right out the window.
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction, Written For Your Entertainment.



“Keep it secret. Keep it safe,” Ian said, and even though they were thousands of miles apart, speaking over a less than clear phone line, Orlando could imagine the twinkle in the man’s eyes, how he’d hunch his shoulders as he chuckled at his own joke.

“I will. Will you send directions?”

“I’ll send my driver, my dear, don’t you worry. Just send me your flight itinerary.”

“Thank you,” Orlando forced out, his throat tight. The invitation to spend the weekend at Ian McKellen’s country home couldn’t have come at a better time, something Ian had alluded to but never outright mentioned it.

Another ‘popcorn film’, another box office flop, another ex-girlfriend to worry about. Orlando could reassure himself that while he didn’t always have luck with movies in the theaters, more often than not they tended to become great sellers as DVDs, some even hailed as cult-classics or underappreciated gems. The ex-girlfriends...that was a different story.

“It is absolutely my pleasure, Orlando. This old house needs a handsome young man to decorate the halls.”

Orlando gave a surprised bark of laughter. “The house or the house’s owner?”

“Bit of both, though I will try to keep my hands firmly upon my own person.”

“Just do that when I’m not around,” Orlando begged before breaking into a round of giggles. He’d forgotten how Ian could get, how he’d have faces flushed with embarrassment and pleasure at compliments that toed the line of propriety.

Ian laughed. “I make no promises, dear, none at all.”

After they’d hung up, Orlando sagged back into the couch and sighed. Spending the weekend before Christmas away from Los Angeles or London, away from cameras and reporters sounded perfect. Of course, it meant he had to find presents for his family and friends ahead of time, but he had a credit card and a laptop with internet that he was slowly getting the hang of. He would be fine.

Just fine.


When Orlando saw the sign with the name “W. Turner” he grinned and nodded to the smartly dressed young man, waving off the offer to help with his bags. He only had a carry on suitcase with wheels and the messenger bag that had accompanied him around the world for movie roles and press junkets. He kept his baseball cap pulled lower than usual to avoid being recognized.

Amazingly, it worked like a charm, right up until he was sliding into the back seat of the downright sinfully gorgeous black Bentley as the driver stored Orlando’s bags in the boot, and looked into a familiar pair of big, blue eyes.

“Orli?” Elijah blinked and grabbed at Orlando’s baseball hat and tugged it off, letting loose a riot of chestnut curls. “Holy shit!”

Orlando laughed into his friend’s shoulder as he was enveloped in a tight hug, surprise keeping him frozen for a second before he returned the embrace. “That sly, old fox.”

“Keep it secret, he said!” Elijah pulled away and slouched into the corner, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. “I should have known. How much do you want to bet that we’ll see Hobbits and Wizards and Dwarves, oh my?”

Orlando swallowed and hoped like hell his face didn’t betray the way his heart was beating too fast and he felt hot all over as he said, “Maybe one or two sons of Gondor as well?”

Elijah sighed, gently knocking his head against the window. “I wondered why Astin was acting funny when I talked to him last week.”

“I haven’t seen any of the others since...Troy, when Beanie took me out for drinks when we were on set.” He did the mental calculations. “Eight years? I saw Marton for Kingdom but…”

“Friend but not one of the Fellowship.” Elijah nodded in understanding. “We were like one of those cliques in high school, weren’t we?”

“Except we welcomed anyone.”

“Speaking of anyone…” Elijah pointed over Orlando’s shoulder, just as the door opened behind him, and someone caught Orlando before he hit the pavement.

“I’ve rescued the fair maiden!”

Orlando looked up at Dominic Monaghan’s chin. “McKellen has lost his mind inviting you, S’blomie.”

“I’m amazing, of course he invited me. Shove over.”

Once they were packed in, with little room to move, the driver got in and started the car. Orlando considered asking to sit in the front, but then Elijah laid his head on his shoulder and Dom casually shifted to drape his leg over Orlando’s and it was like they were back in New Zealand, being driven to the set for an early shoot after a night of drinking. The only one missing was Billy, since Astin had tended to beg off on the pub crawls.

Orlando had the feeling that he’d be seeing Billy soon enough.


Ian McKellen’s country home was actually an estate, complete with a wall, gatehouse, mile long drive, and a huge glass greenhouse. The house was like something from a Masterpiece Theater production of a Jane Austin novel, complete with ivy covered walls and multiple chimneys. Orlando fell a little in love with it as he stared up at the upper story windows reflecting the sun, barely aware of Elijah and Dom bickering behind him.

“Ah, now here’s a sight to see. Two Hobbits and an Elf come to the Wizard’s home for a bit of rest and respite.” Ian’s voice interrupted Orlando’s daze, but it was the voice that followed that left Orlando breathless.

“A fair sight, indeed.” Viggo Mortensen stood beside Ian at the covered entrance to the manor house, his fair hair burnished gold in the sunlight, and seeming almost toffee-skinned beside the pale older man. He was such a welcome sight that Orlando had to rub his eyes against the pressure of tears building, huffing out a laugh when he was bumped aside by his excited friends.

“It’s the big movie star with heart!” shouted Dom as he tried to head butt Viggo, who stopped him with a well-placed hand to his forehead.

“Not so- oof!”

Orlando covered his mouth when Viggo was tackled from the side by Elijah, Ian neatly stepping out of the way when Viggo stumbled to the side. Viggo’s laughter wrapped around Orlando, taking him back to New Zealand and a night that should have changed everything, but only left questions that had gone unanswered for too long.

“He arrived yesterday, turned up on my doorstep a full day ahead of schedule, the scoundrel,” Ian murmured, sidling over to slide his arm around Orlando’s shoulders. Orlando tore his gaze away from Viggo and the Hobbits to pull Ian in for a hug.

“He never does what we expect,” Orlando muttered into Ian’s shoulder, the familiar scent of Trumper’s Eucris Cologne tickling his nose.

“No, but he does tend to know what we need.” Ian clapped him on the back and Orlando stepped away, wanting to say that Ian was wrong, that Viggo most definitely hadn’t known what Orlando needed when it was most important, but he remained silent and fiddled absent mindedly with the silver ring he’d worn since New Zealand and pasted on a happy smile. It wasn’t all that difficult. “I’m glad you could come, Orlando.”

“Who else should we expect?”

“Two Hobbits and another Son of Gondor, though not until after supper, I’m afraid. Now,” Ian rubbed his hands together. “Let me show you to your rooms, my good sirs!”

“Not a Dwarf?” Orlando asked as he walked with Ian to the door, Viggo still fending off two Hobbits, laughter echoing throughout the large drive.

“John is attending a wedding this weekend in America.”

“He’s going the wrong way!” Elijah piped up. He was now on Dom’s back, and Viggo was scratching the back of his own neck, squinting at everyone as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened but he might be okay with it. Orlando wanted to give in to the urge to hug him, but when their eyes met, his heart skipped a beat and he had to look away, feeling like an arse.

“He did send his love to everyone,” Ian assured them with a smile.

Viggo entered the house first, followed by Dom and Elijah. Orlando trailed his fingers over the beautiful scrollwork in the wood around the small window just inside the door. The hall opened into a large sitting area complete with a stone fireplace and dark leather furniture. Viggo walked straight to the staircase that led up to the first floor where, Ian said, the bedrooms and his private office was located.

“I’m sure you won’t mind doubling up.” Ian patted Orlando’s shoulder. “Orlando you’re here, with Viggo.” He opened the first door and Orlando froze. “Dom is sharing with Billy, Astin with Elijah, and our dear Beanie will have a room alone.”

That didn’t make any sense, Orlando thought frantically. Viggo should be sharing a room with Bean; they were practically inseparable during filming. Since it had been made painfully obvious that whatever Orlando had thought was between himself and Viggo had never come to be, the rooming arrangements were absurd, especially once he saw that there was only one bed, a large brass bed, the metal gleaming, topped with a plain, puffy white comforter that looked as inviting as a fresh snowfall.

“Go ahead and change or have a nap, lunch will be served at half twelve in the dining room.” Ian moved farther down the hall and opened another door. “This room is yours Dom…”

Orlando stopped listening to Ian and avoided Viggo’s gaze as he stepped into the bedroom, setting his suitcase on the bed. There was a partially open door that, upon a quick peek, revealed a small bath with a sink, toilet, and shower stall, towels and various bottles of beer shampoo and liquid soap stacked on a three tier wooden shelf beside the door.

“It’s good to see you.”

Orlando held on to the doorframe, not ready to turn around and face Viggo just yet. “You, too.”


Viggo’s voice was so close that Orlando was sure he could lean back without fearing a fall. “I don’t know why this is so hard,” he admitted, letting his arm drop to his side.

“We’ve spoken on the phone.”

“Yeah.” For a while, it had been almost every day, but as their schedules began to fill, it went to weekly, then once or twice a month. Orlando realized that almost a year had passed since the last time he spoken to Viggo, and even then it was just a quick birthday greeting, and it had been so loud in the club Bast had dragged him to that they hadn’t said more than a few words before Orlando had cut the call short.

“Are you going to turn around so I can hug you, or should I just leave?”

Orlando sighed and shook his head as he slowly pivoted to face the man he’d fallen so hard for during the Rings filming. Viggo was older now, his hair light with grey, more laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, and he seemed...smaller. Not larger than life as Orlando remembered, but more like just another man, and it was that surprising revelation that gave Orlando the confidence to step into and return Viggo’s tight embrace.

Viggo smelled of the outside and the sharp tang of oil paint, two scents that Orlando had always associated with his friend, though they were usually accompanied by hay and horses. Orlando hadn’t seen any stables, and that was too bad. Viggo on a horse was a beautiful sight to behold.

“I’ve missed you,” Viggo whispered, and Orlando shivered, pushing his face into Viggo’s neck, unable to respond, afraid of what he’d say, but it didn’t matter when Viggo continued, “Cormamin lindua ele lle.”

Orlando’s breath caught. “My heart sings to see thee,” he translated, moving away just enough to see Viggo’s face. He should have forgotten it after all of this time, but it had been the one thing he couldn’t. The greeting Viggo had discovered and used so often, and only with Orlando. One of the many reasons why Orlando had been convinced his feelings were returned.

Viggo wet his lips, as if to speak, but instead pressed them together and his hand rose, gently cupping Orlando head, bringing their faces closer until Orlando had to close his eyes. Then there came the light touch of their foreheads bumping together and he let out a surprised huff of laughter.

“Filthy Human,” Orlando whispered, his voice shaking.

“Prissy Elf.”  The nickname was lacking that one word that Orlando had both loved and dreaded...boy. Viggo had always called him “elf boy” and the fact that he hadn’t just then gave Orlando hope. The way Viggo’s gaze repeatedly dropped to Orlando’s lips was enough to send blood south. Hope and desire, a wonderfully heady combination that left Orlando determined not to let this opportunity pass him by.

Viggo leaned back, and they stared at each other, Orlando trying to find the right words to say, until the sound of pounding footsteps had them moving apart, both looking towards the door where Elijah appeared to yell, “Billy’s here!” before continuing on.

“He’s early,” Viggo murmured, and Orlando slipped past him.

“We should go down to meet him.”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Orlando studied the tense set to Viggo’s shoulders, the way Viggo scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I have a few hours left before I drop from jet lag.”

“I could use a nap.”

Orlando refused to read into that, choosing instead to just nod and lead the way back downstairs. He had waited so long already, there was time.


Billy’s welcome ended up becoming an all-out tussle on the ground because, Orlando observed, The Hobbits had a habit of leaving bruises to show their passionate love for one another. He felt bad for Astin since he’d be getting all three Hobbits coming at him, all at once, and Orlando happily stood between Ian and Viggo, a few feet away from the rowdy friends. There was a part of him that wanted to run over and just jump in and add his limbs to the flailing arms and legs, but he also had plans that didn’t include a possible limp or concussion later. He glanced to the side and melted a little inside at the sight of Viggo’s lips curved up in a small, private smile. That smile had always been one of Orlando’s favorites.

Eventually, they all moved back inside, Ian directing everyone upstairs while he saw to the lunch preparations, making Orlando wonder just how elaborate they’d be. Viggo shrugged when he asked.

“With Ian, anything is possible.”

“True, but I thought you’d be privy to his weekend secrets, having arrived early and all.” Orlando dropped onto the bed, flopping back with a groan. He’d flown from Los Angeles, and while he was used to air travel after all of these years, it still left its mark with sore muscles and jet lag. He covered his mouth as he yawned.

“Hey, don’t feel asleep yet, Elf.” Viggo took hold of Orlando’s hands and pulled until Orlando was reluctantly sitting upright. “Dunk your head under the faucet and wake up. You can sleep after we eat.”

“If I face plant into my food, it will be on you,” Orlando warned, dragging himself into the bathroom to splash his face with cold water.

“I’ll pinch you if I see you about to fall.”

Orlando gasped at the shock of water and shook his head, shivering. “I didn’t miss you at all.”


Orlando took the towel that Viggo held out. He dried his face and didn’t answer.

They met the Hobbits in the hall, and Orlando slid his arm around Billy’s waist as they walked down the long staircase, Elijah telling them about the woman he’d been sitting next to on the plane who had been watching gay porn on her tablet, not caring in the least that Elijah could see the screen.

“Were the blokes fit?” Dom asked and Billy snickered.

Elijah took a moment to answer. “Yeah, yeah they were. And flexible.”

Billy almost tripped on the last step but Orlando caught the banister just in time, the both of them laughing.

“She had in earbuds, right, but then we hit turbulence and she moved and suddenly it was all, “Oh god give it to me!” She turned so red, and I thought she was going to throw the tablet trying to get the volume turned down.”

“Why don’t I ever get the fun ones?” Orlando sighed. “The man next to me was reading an autobiography about Abraham Lincoln.”

“Vampire Hunter!” Elijah yelled just as Ian appeared.

“I’m sure I don’t want to know.” Ian waved towards the hall he’d just come down. “Lunch is served.”


“I haven’t eaten that much since last Christmas and there’s still supper?” Orlando groaned, laying on his back on the brass bed, holding his stomach. The banana chocolate bread pudding had been delicious but several mouthfuls too far. Still, he had no regrets.

“A light supper.”

Orlando snorted. “Didn’t he say that was a light lunch?”

Viggo grinned and sat down in the chair by the windows, his face in shadows as he bent over a book. He reminded Orlando of the first scene that Aragorn as Strider appeared in, in Fellowship. All he needed was a hood and a pipe.

“You can have your nap now, with a full belly and no commitments for another few hours.”

“Elijah was falling asleep, too.” Actually, he had fallen asleep at one point, his head on Dom’s shoulder.

“They all disappeared inside of Billy and Dom’s room.”

“The Hobbit version of a puppy pile,” Orlando said with a sigh, his eyes closing.

“Come on, at least take off your pants and get under the covers.”

Orlando heard Viggo get up and then there was a hand on his knee. “Going to help?” he murmured, too sleepy to care about what he was saying.

“If you’d like.”

Unlike indulging in the pudding, Orlando had the feeling that if he said no, he would regret it. “I’d like. Please.”

Viggo took off his own shoes first, a pair of worn cowboy boots that Orlando had considered asking about, but hadn’t. Somehow, it seemed strange for Viggo to be wearing shoes at all off of a movie set, never mind a pair of boots, but Orlando remained quiet as his trainers were carefully unlaced. He opened his eyes as he pushed up to his elbows and wiggled his toes, watching Viggo turn to drop the shoes next to his boots before turning back, hands on the button of his jeans.

The stared at each other in silence, Orlando rousing himself to stand up to take care of his pants, while Viggo half-turned away to do the same. When the questions began to build up into a lump in Orlando’s throat, he finally blurted out, “What are we doing?”

Viggo, in the process of pulling back the thick blankets on the bed stilled. “Taking it slow.” he said quietly, a very slight lilt to his tone that made it seem like a question and Orlando rolled his eyes.

“Slow? Vig, glaciers move faster than we have,” he muttered, walking around to the other side of the bed, yanking back the blankets and sliding in, curling into a ball at the touch of the cold sheets. “Fuck, get in here to warm me up!”

And then Viggo was there, a hand on Orlando’s thigh urging him to straighten his legs, and he did, tangling them with Viggo’s. He curved his arm over Viggo’s waist, Viggo doing the same to him, and they both sighed, smiling at each other. “Better?” Viggo asked.

“You waited more than ten years.”

“So did you.”

Orlando frowned, fingers restlessly rubbing the material of Viggo’s shirt between them. “I think we remember things differently,” he finally said, the warmth of Viggo’s body and the blankets making his thoughts sluggish, sleep inevitable.

“Does it matter if we’re here now?”

“Where are we?”


“We are?”

Viggo shifted closer and pressed a kiss to Orlando’s forehead. “Sleep, Elf.”


“We are.”

Orlando stopped fighting to keep his eyes open and settled into the mattress, wanting to roll over to his stomach, but unwilling to let go of Viggo. He wanted to say more, wanted to ask about what it meant, why Viggo waited, why he thought it was Orlando who’d made the choice, but all he manage to say was, “n...kay…” before he was asleep.

Continued in pt. 2!



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 9th, 2014 10:48 pm (UTC)
OH My God! The bit about the tablet - I laughed till tears ran down my face! Absolutely brilliant!
Jan. 10th, 2014 02:24 pm (UTC)
Taken from an overheard story about someone having fits over sitting next to a man who was watching porn on his tablet while in flight. Taken, switched around, and then made into what I believe would happen if I ever decided to watch porn on a plane. LOL And of course it's Elijah who gets to have the fun with that!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


by caugraphics
A Viggorli Secret Santa Exchange

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