Walk on By - Part X
WALK ON BY - X
Author: Lottie Lenya Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: yehnica who despite working very peculiar hours still manages to be constructive and encouraging!
A/N. More thanks to chaosmanor who is guiding me through the medical stuff despite being on her holidays. And thanks also to andien for her useful tips! Thanks guys, you're the best!
A/N 2 - For those who don't know, MRSA is a very nasty, often drug resistant, infection that people in hospital in the UK all too frequently pick up. Quite often it kills. There will be loads of info on the Web about it - I don't want to get bogged down in the politics of Healthcare in this country!
‘So, let me get this straight…’ It was clear to Orlando that George was less than happy. ‘You’re gonna have Vig staying in your house. Have you thought this through, son?
Whenever George referred to him as son, Orlando knew he was much moved. Clearly it was going to be a long evening.
‘George, it makes sense. The state he’s in, he can’t be left on his own, and it would save the Met a lot of money.’ Pausing to light a cigarette, he grinned, remembering D I Bicknall ‘massaging’ the figures so that his team would get some overtime when they were particularly busy. The language had been colourful to say the least.
‘Besides, he’s gotta be safe. These Eastern European cunts want him dead and I’m not prepared to take any chances. I mean….’ George glared at him.
‘Not another fucking poofter, is he Flower? Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you fancy ‘im. Oh for fuck’s sake Orlando.’ Another bad sign, George hardly ever called him by his name. ‘You can’t go about shafting your witnesses, son, it just won’t do. If the Defence get hold of it they’ll tear him and you apart.’
‘Look George, whether I get involved with him or not, you can’t deny he’d be better off in a quiet flat in the Barbican where I can keep an eye on him rather than stuck in some faceless B&B which will be nothing more than a hell hole. ‘Sides, he’s gotta take loads of antibiotics and I have to get him to the dentist. Rose reckons his mouth is full of rotten teeth!’
George held up his hands. ‘Well thanks mate, I can do without the visuals. Anyway how d’ you get young Bicknall to agree to it? Can I assume he doesn’t know you’re gonna be fucking his star witness?’
Orlando sighed again. ‘For now no one’s gonna be fucking anyone, I just wanna get him clean and well. That’ll do for the moment, you’re fucking obsessed with fucking…’
George would not be diverted. ‘Come on lad, tell me, how did you get Bicknall to agree to this?’
Orlando smirked, remembering how his Guv’nor had stopped yelling when he realised how much better his budget was going to look if Orlando minded Viggo. It seemed a wicked waste of money housing some bum in the lap of luxury, though luxury maybe wasn’t quite the word…
***
Later that day, Orlando picked Viggo up from the hospital. After having a quiet word with Rose, Orlando had popped into Primark and bought some jeans and t shirts as well as a pair of trainers. Viggo’s clothes had been lice infested and fit for nothing except the incinerator.
Breezing into the ward, Orlando’s insouciance soon turned to rank fear when he read the list of instructions Rose had thoughtfully compiled.
‘How long is he gonna be taking this shit for, Rosie? Christ, at this rate he’ll be fucking rattling…’
Rosie rolled her eyes, something she did quite often when dealing with D S Bloom.
‘Around nine months I reckon…’
Orlando closed his mouth and interrupted her. ‘Shouldn’t he stay in hospital a bit longer then? Didn’t think I was signing up for all this shit - Florence Fucking Nightingale I am not.’
‘Tell me something, boy wonder, do you ever read the fucking papers? Haven’t you heard of MRSA? If Viggo contracts it in his state, he probably won’t make it. Now are you hearing me or not?’
Rose was getting a bit tired of Orlando; as she had remarked to her husband the night before, for a cop who walked on the dark side, at times he behaved like an overgrown schoolgirl!
‘And make sure you give him decent food. A well balanced diet and lots of rest and quiet will see him back on his feet in no time. Though giving him a good clean would be an excellent start.’
Orlando gave it up as a bad job and nodded meekly. The Great Clean Up was about to begin.
****
‘Come on in Viggo, make yourself at home.’ Orlando beckoned the nervous looking man into his home. The flat was unmistakeably Orlando. Since Greg had moved out, the clutter which he had struggled to keep at bay had found its way back. There were clothes, scattered here and there; books on every surface showing that Orlando’s taste in reading matter was catholic to say the least. David Beckham’s autobiography nestled closely to Primo Levi; the latest John Grisham jostled for position with Anthony Trollope.
To Viggo, it looked like home. Under the faint smell of cigarette smoke, there was the unmistakeable aroma of Orlando. Viggo breathed in deeply and for the first time in literally years, he begun to relax.
Orlando showed him round the flat; there wasn’t that much to see. Kitchen, bathroom, fair sized sitting room and a large bedroom. Viggo wondered where he was going to be sleeping.
‘First thing Viggo, is a bath. We need to thoroughly de-louse you before I can even think of allowing you into my bed.’ He missed Viggo’s nervous double take as he was busy, starting to run the bath.
‘Come on mate, shift yourself. I need to get to the supermarket for supplies when I’ve got you settled. Rosie said you needed good food and there is nothing you could describe as good food in my fridge. Though there’s always plenty of beer….’ He broke off, he could see Viggo was freaking out.
He sighed, experience had taught him that it was pointless getting impatient with Viggo, he just crawled into his shell or burst into tears. Before he could say a word.
‘Orlando, please tell me what you’re expecting.’ Viggo gulped. ‘Of me I mean. What do you want?’
If he had troubled to look up, he would have seen that Orlando clearly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
‘Look Vig, you pillock, I just want you to get into the bath so we can start getting you clean. The mattress on my bed cost a fucking fortune and I don’t fancy having to get rid of it; what the fuck do you think I want?’
While he was talking, he poured a healthy slug of Oilatum into the water.
‘It’ll take a while to fill, when my ex insisted on this huge fuck off tub he forgot that we don’t have fuck off water pressure and it takes about ten minutes to be worth getting into.’ Looking up he could see that Viggo was grey with fatigue. “You stay here, I’ll get you a chair so you can keep an eye on the water while I try and find the spare bedding. No one’s slept on the sofa for months…..’
Looking up as he spoke, he saw the look of relief that crossed Viggo’s face when he mentioned the sofa.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake mate, what sort of bloke d’you think I am? No, don’t answer that, just sit there and I’ll get weaving.’
Twenty minutes later, Orlando was helping Viggo into the bath. He was appalled at the state of the other man’s skin. The grime was literally encrusted into every fold and every crease. His feet were disgusting, misshapen, nails thick, horny and yellow; the patches of hard skin looked like leather. Orlando could feel the bile rising in his throat and for one brief moment, he thought he was going to throw up. But seeing Viggo’s anxious face, sensing his humiliation, he managed to take control of himself as he gently helped Viggo into the bath.
‘’S’gonna take more than one soak to get you really clean, but we’ll get the top layer off.’
It was a painstaking task, every now and then Viggo was racked with a coughing fit, and Orlando had to stand by with a bowl to catch the blood and phlegm that came up. Retching, he poured it down the toilet, followed by a healthy dose of disinfectant. The water was black with grime when Orlando finally pulled the plug. Both men were exhausted by the time Orlando helped Viggo out of the bath and wrapped him up in the towel that Pip used to sleep on. His heart sank when he realised that he would have to wash Viggo’s hair before he did anything else.
Sighing, he picked up the lice comb that Rosie had so thoughtfully supplied him with and begun painstakingly combing the tangles out of Viggo’s hair.
‘This is the last job, mate, I just need to sort your Barnet out and then you can go to bed.’
‘I’m so sorry Orlando’ Viggo whispered. For a brief moment, Orlando felt the urge to take this poor wreck of a human being into his arms, just to hold to him safe and secure.
TBC
Author: Lottie Lenya Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG (R/NC-17 in later chapters)
Category: AU
Disclaimer: This is fiction, not based in reality - to the best of my knowledge Viggo Mortensen has never lived rough and Orlando Bloom was never part of the Constabulary.
Beta: yehnica who despite working very peculiar hours still manages to be constructive and encouraging!
A/N. More thanks to chaosmanor who is guiding me through the medical stuff despite being on her holidays. And thanks also to andien for her useful tips! Thanks guys, you're the best!
A/N 2 - For those who don't know, MRSA is a very nasty, often drug resistant, infection that people in hospital in the UK all too frequently pick up. Quite often it kills. There will be loads of info on the Web about it - I don't want to get bogged down in the politics of Healthcare in this country!
‘So, let me get this straight…’ It was clear to Orlando that George was less than happy. ‘You’re gonna have Vig staying in your house. Have you thought this through, son?
Whenever George referred to him as son, Orlando knew he was much moved. Clearly it was going to be a long evening.
‘George, it makes sense. The state he’s in, he can’t be left on his own, and it would save the Met a lot of money.’ Pausing to light a cigarette, he grinned, remembering D I Bicknall ‘massaging’ the figures so that his team would get some overtime when they were particularly busy. The language had been colourful to say the least.
‘Besides, he’s gotta be safe. These Eastern European cunts want him dead and I’m not prepared to take any chances. I mean….’ George glared at him.
‘Not another fucking poofter, is he Flower? Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you fancy ‘im. Oh for fuck’s sake Orlando.’ Another bad sign, George hardly ever called him by his name. ‘You can’t go about shafting your witnesses, son, it just won’t do. If the Defence get hold of it they’ll tear him and you apart.’
‘Look George, whether I get involved with him or not, you can’t deny he’d be better off in a quiet flat in the Barbican where I can keep an eye on him rather than stuck in some faceless B&B which will be nothing more than a hell hole. ‘Sides, he’s gotta take loads of antibiotics and I have to get him to the dentist. Rose reckons his mouth is full of rotten teeth!’
George held up his hands. ‘Well thanks mate, I can do without the visuals. Anyway how d’ you get young Bicknall to agree to it? Can I assume he doesn’t know you’re gonna be fucking his star witness?’
Orlando sighed again. ‘For now no one’s gonna be fucking anyone, I just wanna get him clean and well. That’ll do for the moment, you’re fucking obsessed with fucking…’
George would not be diverted. ‘Come on lad, tell me, how did you get Bicknall to agree to this?’
Orlando smirked, remembering how his Guv’nor had stopped yelling when he realised how much better his budget was going to look if Orlando minded Viggo. It seemed a wicked waste of money housing some bum in the lap of luxury, though luxury maybe wasn’t quite the word…
***
Later that day, Orlando picked Viggo up from the hospital. After having a quiet word with Rose, Orlando had popped into Primark and bought some jeans and t shirts as well as a pair of trainers. Viggo’s clothes had been lice infested and fit for nothing except the incinerator.
Breezing into the ward, Orlando’s insouciance soon turned to rank fear when he read the list of instructions Rose had thoughtfully compiled.
‘How long is he gonna be taking this shit for, Rosie? Christ, at this rate he’ll be fucking rattling…’
Rosie rolled her eyes, something she did quite often when dealing with D S Bloom.
‘Around nine months I reckon…’
Orlando closed his mouth and interrupted her. ‘Shouldn’t he stay in hospital a bit longer then? Didn’t think I was signing up for all this shit - Florence Fucking Nightingale I am not.’
‘Tell me something, boy wonder, do you ever read the fucking papers? Haven’t you heard of MRSA? If Viggo contracts it in his state, he probably won’t make it. Now are you hearing me or not?’
Rose was getting a bit tired of Orlando; as she had remarked to her husband the night before, for a cop who walked on the dark side, at times he behaved like an overgrown schoolgirl!
‘And make sure you give him decent food. A well balanced diet and lots of rest and quiet will see him back on his feet in no time. Though giving him a good clean would be an excellent start.’
Orlando gave it up as a bad job and nodded meekly. The Great Clean Up was about to begin.
****
‘Come on in Viggo, make yourself at home.’ Orlando beckoned the nervous looking man into his home. The flat was unmistakeably Orlando. Since Greg had moved out, the clutter which he had struggled to keep at bay had found its way back. There were clothes, scattered here and there; books on every surface showing that Orlando’s taste in reading matter was catholic to say the least. David Beckham’s autobiography nestled closely to Primo Levi; the latest John Grisham jostled for position with Anthony Trollope.
To Viggo, it looked like home. Under the faint smell of cigarette smoke, there was the unmistakeable aroma of Orlando. Viggo breathed in deeply and for the first time in literally years, he begun to relax.
Orlando showed him round the flat; there wasn’t that much to see. Kitchen, bathroom, fair sized sitting room and a large bedroom. Viggo wondered where he was going to be sleeping.
‘First thing Viggo, is a bath. We need to thoroughly de-louse you before I can even think of allowing you into my bed.’ He missed Viggo’s nervous double take as he was busy, starting to run the bath.
‘Come on mate, shift yourself. I need to get to the supermarket for supplies when I’ve got you settled. Rosie said you needed good food and there is nothing you could describe as good food in my fridge. Though there’s always plenty of beer….’ He broke off, he could see Viggo was freaking out.
He sighed, experience had taught him that it was pointless getting impatient with Viggo, he just crawled into his shell or burst into tears. Before he could say a word.
‘Orlando, please tell me what you’re expecting.’ Viggo gulped. ‘Of me I mean. What do you want?’
If he had troubled to look up, he would have seen that Orlando clearly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
‘Look Vig, you pillock, I just want you to get into the bath so we can start getting you clean. The mattress on my bed cost a fucking fortune and I don’t fancy having to get rid of it; what the fuck do you think I want?’
While he was talking, he poured a healthy slug of Oilatum into the water.
‘It’ll take a while to fill, when my ex insisted on this huge fuck off tub he forgot that we don’t have fuck off water pressure and it takes about ten minutes to be worth getting into.’ Looking up he could see that Viggo was grey with fatigue. “You stay here, I’ll get you a chair so you can keep an eye on the water while I try and find the spare bedding. No one’s slept on the sofa for months…..’
Looking up as he spoke, he saw the look of relief that crossed Viggo’s face when he mentioned the sofa.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake mate, what sort of bloke d’you think I am? No, don’t answer that, just sit there and I’ll get weaving.’
Twenty minutes later, Orlando was helping Viggo into the bath. He was appalled at the state of the other man’s skin. The grime was literally encrusted into every fold and every crease. His feet were disgusting, misshapen, nails thick, horny and yellow; the patches of hard skin looked like leather. Orlando could feel the bile rising in his throat and for one brief moment, he thought he was going to throw up. But seeing Viggo’s anxious face, sensing his humiliation, he managed to take control of himself as he gently helped Viggo into the bath.
‘’S’gonna take more than one soak to get you really clean, but we’ll get the top layer off.’
It was a painstaking task, every now and then Viggo was racked with a coughing fit, and Orlando had to stand by with a bowl to catch the blood and phlegm that came up. Retching, he poured it down the toilet, followed by a healthy dose of disinfectant. The water was black with grime when Orlando finally pulled the plug. Both men were exhausted by the time Orlando helped Viggo out of the bath and wrapped him up in the towel that Pip used to sleep on. His heart sank when he realised that he would have to wash Viggo’s hair before he did anything else.
Sighing, he picked up the lice comb that Rosie had so thoughtfully supplied him with and begun painstakingly combing the tangles out of Viggo’s hair.
‘This is the last job, mate, I just need to sort your Barnet out and then you can go to bed.’
‘I’m so sorry Orlando’ Viggo whispered. For a brief moment, Orlando felt the urge to take this poor wreck of a human being into his arms, just to hold to him safe and secure.
TBC