Ficlet, Viggo/Sean
Jan. 7th, 2008 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
archetWow, it's felt like ages since I've written any VigBean! This came about in during my lunch hour at work, out of the blue, and with the ususal sap. ;)
Title: Prats and Paintings
Author: Archet
Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo’s a prat, and Sean’s not a painting.
Disclaimer: all fiction, for entertainment purposes only, in no way implies anything as to the real lives to the lovely men who are inspirations for these characters.
Archive: rugbytackle only
Feedback: are you kidding? It’s welcome and appreciated!
~*~
Viggo knew he’d screwed up when Sean turned, pinned him with a look that conveyed most plainly the sentiment: you’re a complete prat.
“What?” Viggo asked, already on the defensive, more than willing to go ahead and plunge headfirst if for nothing more other than to save time. They’d been arguing for the better part of the past half-hour, and over nothing more than the silliest of shit. Maybe this time their bitching might actually achieve a point.
Sharp green eyes narrowing, Sean said evenly, “You know, I’m not one of your bloody paintings.”
It seemed such an odd, nonsensical statement Viggo just stared open-mouthed for a second. He wondered if this was how Sean felt most of the time. “Say the fuck again?”
Sean apparently didn’t appreciate Vig’s tone in the least, as he took a step forward, his lean body visibly stiff, tense with anger. “It’s not all on you to fix our shite. You can’t just,” and now Sean was jerking his hand toward the easel set up in the corner, adorned with a half-finished painting that Viggo had gotten stuck on over a month ago. Almost the exact same that the bickering started. Bickering that had slowly gained speed and momentum into full fledged arguments over the past weeks.
“You can’t just hang about and watch and wait for the answer to come to you, Vig,” Sean was saying, only now his voice sounded less angry and more frustrated.
Sitting heavily down on the couch, Sean looked up at him. “Don’t you get it, you daft twat? I get to get in there and help, even if you think I can’t. I get to do some of the work. You can’t just bloody well fuck me and tell me you love me and then go off and try and figure it all out on your on. Dammit.”
A little shocked at the sudden exhaustion in Sean’s voice, Viggo dropped down onto the couch at Sean’s side. “I’m sorry.”
Sighing, Sean let his eyes close and leaned his head back against the couch. “I know, but I don’t need you sorry. I need you to let me in, let me help and stop withdrawing into yourself.”
Viggo nodded, even though Sean couldn’t see it. Gaze trailing over Sean’s face, Viggo reached out, drawing a finger down the line of Sean’s exposed throat. Now, with a little perspective, Viggo thought he understood, and the knowledge and realization of how he’d been pushing Sean away because they were having problems felt like a knot in his gut.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”
At that Sean opened his eyes, lifted his head until they were looking one another in the eye. Viggo’s fingers curled around Sean’s throat, the heel of his hand pressing against the sweet hollow at its base. “I guess, I’m just so used to being on my own, didn’t see how I was excluding you. Didn’t want you to see how worried I’ve been.”
Some of the tightness seemed to drain out of Sean just then, and his expression relaxed. Viggo felt a surge of relief, because for an instant he thought Sean might have been ready to call it quits.
“Idiot,” Sean said softly, and Viggo smiled at the bemused tone. “You just can’t rely on yourself, love, not in this. Doing that is all well and fine for your artistic process, for parsing out what color goes where and how much, but with us, well, you’ve just got to give us some ground to stand on together, yeah?”
Warmth flowed through Viggo then, and it was astounding how with just a word or a look, Sean renewed the love Viggo felt so deeply, made it root itself in Viggo’s heart even more firmly.
“I will. I will Sean, and all these dumbass things we’ve been fighting about, are fixable. We’ll fix them.” Vig believed it, suddenly, if because of nothing more than the fact that Sean was smiling at him again.
“Bet your arse, we will.”
Viggo grinned, hand moving up, fingers sliding around through fine blond hair to cup the back of Sean’s head. “I’ll bet both our asses. You’re mine, and I’m not gonna let you loose, I swear it.”
Sean’s grin widened at that, as if he’d like nothing more. His arm snaked about Viggo’s waist drawing their bodies tightly together. Viggo could feel the rise and fall of Sean’s chest against him, could feel his constant warmth. “Love you, gonna fuck you,” Viggo growled, dipping his head to brush his lips across Sean’s. “And after, when you’ve come for me, we’ll talk.”
Sharp green eyes looked up into Viggo, and Sean grinned slyly. “Sounds like a fucking brilliant plan, love. Gonna hold you to that.”
Pushing Sean down on his back, in complete agreement, hands busy with the buttons on Sean’s shirt, Viggo growled, “Damn right you will.”
And Sean did.
Title: Prats and Paintings
Author: Archet
Pairing: Sean/Viggo
Rating: R
Summary: Viggo’s a prat, and Sean’s not a painting.
Disclaimer: all fiction, for entertainment purposes only, in no way implies anything as to the real lives to the lovely men who are inspirations for these characters.
Archive: rugbytackle only
Feedback: are you kidding? It’s welcome and appreciated!
~*~
Viggo knew he’d screwed up when Sean turned, pinned him with a look that conveyed most plainly the sentiment: you’re a complete prat.
“What?” Viggo asked, already on the defensive, more than willing to go ahead and plunge headfirst if for nothing more other than to save time. They’d been arguing for the better part of the past half-hour, and over nothing more than the silliest of shit. Maybe this time their bitching might actually achieve a point.
Sharp green eyes narrowing, Sean said evenly, “You know, I’m not one of your bloody paintings.”
It seemed such an odd, nonsensical statement Viggo just stared open-mouthed for a second. He wondered if this was how Sean felt most of the time. “Say the fuck again?”
Sean apparently didn’t appreciate Vig’s tone in the least, as he took a step forward, his lean body visibly stiff, tense with anger. “It’s not all on you to fix our shite. You can’t just,” and now Sean was jerking his hand toward the easel set up in the corner, adorned with a half-finished painting that Viggo had gotten stuck on over a month ago. Almost the exact same that the bickering started. Bickering that had slowly gained speed and momentum into full fledged arguments over the past weeks.
“You can’t just hang about and watch and wait for the answer to come to you, Vig,” Sean was saying, only now his voice sounded less angry and more frustrated.
Sitting heavily down on the couch, Sean looked up at him. “Don’t you get it, you daft twat? I get to get in there and help, even if you think I can’t. I get to do some of the work. You can’t just bloody well fuck me and tell me you love me and then go off and try and figure it all out on your on. Dammit.”
A little shocked at the sudden exhaustion in Sean’s voice, Viggo dropped down onto the couch at Sean’s side. “I’m sorry.”
Sighing, Sean let his eyes close and leaned his head back against the couch. “I know, but I don’t need you sorry. I need you to let me in, let me help and stop withdrawing into yourself.”
Viggo nodded, even though Sean couldn’t see it. Gaze trailing over Sean’s face, Viggo reached out, drawing a finger down the line of Sean’s exposed throat. Now, with a little perspective, Viggo thought he understood, and the knowledge and realization of how he’d been pushing Sean away because they were having problems felt like a knot in his gut.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”
At that Sean opened his eyes, lifted his head until they were looking one another in the eye. Viggo’s fingers curled around Sean’s throat, the heel of his hand pressing against the sweet hollow at its base. “I guess, I’m just so used to being on my own, didn’t see how I was excluding you. Didn’t want you to see how worried I’ve been.”
Some of the tightness seemed to drain out of Sean just then, and his expression relaxed. Viggo felt a surge of relief, because for an instant he thought Sean might have been ready to call it quits.
“Idiot,” Sean said softly, and Viggo smiled at the bemused tone. “You just can’t rely on yourself, love, not in this. Doing that is all well and fine for your artistic process, for parsing out what color goes where and how much, but with us, well, you’ve just got to give us some ground to stand on together, yeah?”
Warmth flowed through Viggo then, and it was astounding how with just a word or a look, Sean renewed the love Viggo felt so deeply, made it root itself in Viggo’s heart even more firmly.
“I will. I will Sean, and all these dumbass things we’ve been fighting about, are fixable. We’ll fix them.” Vig believed it, suddenly, if because of nothing more than the fact that Sean was smiling at him again.
“Bet your arse, we will.”
Viggo grinned, hand moving up, fingers sliding around through fine blond hair to cup the back of Sean’s head. “I’ll bet both our asses. You’re mine, and I’m not gonna let you loose, I swear it.”
Sean’s grin widened at that, as if he’d like nothing more. His arm snaked about Viggo’s waist drawing their bodies tightly together. Viggo could feel the rise and fall of Sean’s chest against him, could feel his constant warmth. “Love you, gonna fuck you,” Viggo growled, dipping his head to brush his lips across Sean’s. “And after, when you’ve come for me, we’ll talk.”
Sharp green eyes looked up into Viggo, and Sean grinned slyly. “Sounds like a fucking brilliant plan, love. Gonna hold you to that.”
Pushing Sean down on his back, in complete agreement, hands busy with the buttons on Sean’s shirt, Viggo growled, “Damn right you will.”
And Sean did.
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Date: 2008-01-09 03:32 pm (UTC)