Walk on By V
WALK ON BY V
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG-13 (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: Ana - probably the best beta in the world...
A/N - Just wanna say thank you very much for all the very encouraging comments. You make it all worthwhile; not gonna name names - you know who you are!
‘Morning, Flower.’ Orlando groaned aloud, having been rudely awoken, yet again, by his mobile phone.
‘George, you tosser, do you know what time it is.? I was gonna have the first lie-in to come my way for months.’ The chuckle that greeted his comment informed him that George wasn’t particularly sympathetic to his plight.
‘Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, Flower. Get your arse in here; I need to talk to you.’ This last remark awoke Orlando to the fact that there was something amiss. ‘Give me half an hour, mate and I’ll be with you. Are you at the gym?’
George Ludlow was an ex-cop and Orlando’s first guv’nor. After he’d retired, he’d opened a gym in the East End. He took a personal interest in Orlando, or Flower as he was known to a select group of ex-colleagues and blokes he trained with. George had been impressed with Orlando after an initial period when the two hated each other. He despised graduate detectives - he was of the opinion that everyone should work their way up from the bottom, just as he had.
‘Make it ten minutes, Flower.’
Sighing, Orlando rolled himself out of bed and into some sweats and a t-shirt. Pulling a hoodie on and picking up keys, phone and some money, he headed out.
Fifteen minutes later he jogged up to the gym where George, a thin, weasley man was waiting for him. Orlando noticed he looked a bit worried.
‘I take me eyes off the fucking ball for a moment and there you are about to shoot an own goal! Did I teach you fucking nothing, cunt? What’s the golden rule, Flower? As Orlando opened his mouth to speak, George cut in. ‘Don’t shit where you eat, prat!’
Finally, Orlando managed to get a word in.
‘I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, mate, so can we rewind to the beginning and you can tell me why I’m such a knobhead!’
George smiled. Sometimes he forgot why he really liked this kid. His grin faded as he begun to speak.
‘Viggo fucking Mortensen, you twat,’ And as Orlando opened his mouth. ‘Shut it, Bollockbrain, and listen. He’s a fucking illegal; he’s served time for assault back in the States and only managed to get a visa ‘cos he knew people who pulled a few strings. And here you are, hanging around with him. If anyone finds out you’re less than clean it’ll be good night Vienna for you tosser. You’ll never climb the greasy pole to the next floor.’ Looking at Orlando’s face, which had turned ashen, light begun to dawn.
‘Oh for Gawd’s sake, you didn’t know about his past did you?’ He laid a paternal arm on his erstwhile colleague’s shoulder. ‘Come on Flower, come back to the office and I’ll tell you all about it.’
An hour later saw a rather shell shocked Orlando practising Tae Kwondu moves with a ferocity that rather startled his opponent, Terry, Orlando’s regular training partner and an off duty Royal Protection Officer
‘Who rattled your cage, Flower, oh for... ?’ This as Orlando’s foot caught his jaw and he spun round. ‘Enough already, you’re a bloody liability in this mood.’ Looking into the stormy features, Terry realised there was more to this sudden burst of temper than met the eye. ‘‘Lan, come on mate, let’s go get some breakfast and you can tell me what the fuck’s going on.’
Realising that he was beginning to freak Terry out, Orlando considered. ‘Nah, you’re alright, I’m gonna head home, grab a shower and get to work, not in the mood for a morning off now.’
*
Viggo had spent the morning trying to get clean. Not an easy task at the best of times. He had contemplated asking Frank if he could get a wash in the Gents at the pub but decided against it. He settled on Waterloo Station, managing to get at least some of the grime off before being moved on by station staff. The sun was shining so he decided to settle himself on the steps of the station. It was a good spot; picking up someone’s discarded coffee and a half chewed bagel, he decided that life wasn’t so bad after all. Pulling out his little sign and his polystyrene cup, he made a start as the first punter of the day approached.
‘Spare some change?’
The well heeled office worker didn’t even acknowledge him but Viggo wasn’t particularly put out. As long as no one attacked him verbally or physically they could ignore him all they liked. He noticed a vaguely familiar woman a few yards away apparently looking for something or someone. Viggo felt a prickle of fear, surely she couldn’t be looking for him. A moment later she was in front of him.
‘I’ve got a message for you, stinking scumbag. Stay away from the cops.’ Glancing round to make sure that no one was looking and that they weren’t directly under a CCTV camera, she knelt down and put some coins in his cup. Standing up, she ground her stiletto heel into his hand. Smiling at his pain, she drew back her foot and dealt him a swift kick to the ribs.
‘Remember what I said, next time He’ll come calling and he isn’t as polite as I am.’
A moment later she’d gone, leaving Viggo with a huge gash on his hand and a pain in his side that felt like it might have been a cracked rib. Picking himself up, he shuffled in the direction of Frank’s pub.
Frank had just finished sorting out the injured hand when a whirlwind in the shape of Orlando Bloom blew into the pub. Viggo had never seen him in such a mood. He was clearly furious, his eyes were sparking and every nuance of his body language betrayed his anger. What made him all the more terrifying was how quiet his voice was.
‘Well, well, Viggo ex-photographer of slags’ tits Mortensen, that would be the Viggo I’m an illegal immigrant Mortensen, who neglected to tell me that he’s done time and is in the country sans passport and permission to be here. You do realise that you are jeopardising my career?’
Viggo was stunned; the harsh tone in that familiar voice completely undid him. He tried to stutter a reply but found he had no words. Orlando curled his lip..
‘Don’t bother saying anything, there is nothing you can say. I want you to get your shit together and then get out of this place, I don’t expect to see you here again, have you got that? From now on I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I won’t make trouble for you but...’ He stopped when he saw the desolate expression on Viggo’s face, but a twinge of guilt made him want to poke and prod at the other man, just a little more.
‘I’m off to work now. Don’t expect me to bail you out again, if I see you again it will either be to arrest you or ignore your existence. The choice is yours.’ Turning to Frank, who looked appalled. ‘Alright mate, I’ll see you around. Perhaps you wanna call George and give him the update.’ Turning round he walked out of the pub, ignoring the little voice inside him that was telling him he’d been an arse and that he would miss his chats with Viggo.
Meanwhile, Viggo had dissolved into a flood of dry, choking sobs. He suddenly realised how much Orlando had brightened his torturous existence. Not only was he being pursued by Jackals who wanted his destruction but Orlando, the only man who had paid him any attention for years had just walked out of his life. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he was going to get over it this time. Frank stood looking at the door, almost as if he expected Orlando to walk back in again. He was aghast at the can of worms he had unwittingly opened.
tbc
Author: Lottie Lenya
Type: RPS
Pairing: VM/OB
Rating: PG-13 (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: Ana - probably the best beta in the world...
A/N - Just wanna say thank you very much for all the very encouraging comments. You make it all worthwhile; not gonna name names - you know who you are!
‘Morning, Flower.’ Orlando groaned aloud, having been rudely awoken, yet again, by his mobile phone.
‘George, you tosser, do you know what time it is.? I was gonna have the first lie-in to come my way for months.’ The chuckle that greeted his comment informed him that George wasn’t particularly sympathetic to his plight.
‘Tell it to someone who gives a fuck, Flower. Get your arse in here; I need to talk to you.’ This last remark awoke Orlando to the fact that there was something amiss. ‘Give me half an hour, mate and I’ll be with you. Are you at the gym?’
George Ludlow was an ex-cop and Orlando’s first guv’nor. After he’d retired, he’d opened a gym in the East End. He took a personal interest in Orlando, or Flower as he was known to a select group of ex-colleagues and blokes he trained with. George had been impressed with Orlando after an initial period when the two hated each other. He despised graduate detectives - he was of the opinion that everyone should work their way up from the bottom, just as he had.
‘Make it ten minutes, Flower.’
Sighing, Orlando rolled himself out of bed and into some sweats and a t-shirt. Pulling a hoodie on and picking up keys, phone and some money, he headed out.
Fifteen minutes later he jogged up to the gym where George, a thin, weasley man was waiting for him. Orlando noticed he looked a bit worried.
‘I take me eyes off the fucking ball for a moment and there you are about to shoot an own goal! Did I teach you fucking nothing, cunt? What’s the golden rule, Flower? As Orlando opened his mouth to speak, George cut in. ‘Don’t shit where you eat, prat!’
Finally, Orlando managed to get a word in.
‘I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, mate, so can we rewind to the beginning and you can tell me why I’m such a knobhead!’
George smiled. Sometimes he forgot why he really liked this kid. His grin faded as he begun to speak.
‘Viggo fucking Mortensen, you twat,’ And as Orlando opened his mouth. ‘Shut it, Bollockbrain, and listen. He’s a fucking illegal; he’s served time for assault back in the States and only managed to get a visa ‘cos he knew people who pulled a few strings. And here you are, hanging around with him. If anyone finds out you’re less than clean it’ll be good night Vienna for you tosser. You’ll never climb the greasy pole to the next floor.’ Looking at Orlando’s face, which had turned ashen, light begun to dawn.
‘Oh for Gawd’s sake, you didn’t know about his past did you?’ He laid a paternal arm on his erstwhile colleague’s shoulder. ‘Come on Flower, come back to the office and I’ll tell you all about it.’
An hour later saw a rather shell shocked Orlando practising Tae Kwondu moves with a ferocity that rather startled his opponent, Terry, Orlando’s regular training partner and an off duty Royal Protection Officer
‘Who rattled your cage, Flower, oh for... ?’ This as Orlando’s foot caught his jaw and he spun round. ‘Enough already, you’re a bloody liability in this mood.’ Looking into the stormy features, Terry realised there was more to this sudden burst of temper than met the eye. ‘‘Lan, come on mate, let’s go get some breakfast and you can tell me what the fuck’s going on.’
Realising that he was beginning to freak Terry out, Orlando considered. ‘Nah, you’re alright, I’m gonna head home, grab a shower and get to work, not in the mood for a morning off now.’
*
Viggo had spent the morning trying to get clean. Not an easy task at the best of times. He had contemplated asking Frank if he could get a wash in the Gents at the pub but decided against it. He settled on Waterloo Station, managing to get at least some of the grime off before being moved on by station staff. The sun was shining so he decided to settle himself on the steps of the station. It was a good spot; picking up someone’s discarded coffee and a half chewed bagel, he decided that life wasn’t so bad after all. Pulling out his little sign and his polystyrene cup, he made a start as the first punter of the day approached.
‘Spare some change?’
The well heeled office worker didn’t even acknowledge him but Viggo wasn’t particularly put out. As long as no one attacked him verbally or physically they could ignore him all they liked. He noticed a vaguely familiar woman a few yards away apparently looking for something or someone. Viggo felt a prickle of fear, surely she couldn’t be looking for him. A moment later she was in front of him.
‘I’ve got a message for you, stinking scumbag. Stay away from the cops.’ Glancing round to make sure that no one was looking and that they weren’t directly under a CCTV camera, she knelt down and put some coins in his cup. Standing up, she ground her stiletto heel into his hand. Smiling at his pain, she drew back her foot and dealt him a swift kick to the ribs.
‘Remember what I said, next time He’ll come calling and he isn’t as polite as I am.’
A moment later she’d gone, leaving Viggo with a huge gash on his hand and a pain in his side that felt like it might have been a cracked rib. Picking himself up, he shuffled in the direction of Frank’s pub.
Frank had just finished sorting out the injured hand when a whirlwind in the shape of Orlando Bloom blew into the pub. Viggo had never seen him in such a mood. He was clearly furious, his eyes were sparking and every nuance of his body language betrayed his anger. What made him all the more terrifying was how quiet his voice was.
‘Well, well, Viggo ex-photographer of slags’ tits Mortensen, that would be the Viggo I’m an illegal immigrant Mortensen, who neglected to tell me that he’s done time and is in the country sans passport and permission to be here. You do realise that you are jeopardising my career?’
Viggo was stunned; the harsh tone in that familiar voice completely undid him. He tried to stutter a reply but found he had no words. Orlando curled his lip..
‘Don’t bother saying anything, there is nothing you can say. I want you to get your shit together and then get out of this place, I don’t expect to see you here again, have you got that? From now on I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I won’t make trouble for you but...’ He stopped when he saw the desolate expression on Viggo’s face, but a twinge of guilt made him want to poke and prod at the other man, just a little more.
‘I’m off to work now. Don’t expect me to bail you out again, if I see you again it will either be to arrest you or ignore your existence. The choice is yours.’ Turning to Frank, who looked appalled. ‘Alright mate, I’ll see you around. Perhaps you wanna call George and give him the update.’ Turning round he walked out of the pub, ignoring the little voice inside him that was telling him he’d been an arse and that he would miss his chats with Viggo.
Meanwhile, Viggo had dissolved into a flood of dry, choking sobs. He suddenly realised how much Orlando had brightened his torturous existence. Not only was he being pursued by Jackals who wanted his destruction but Orlando, the only man who had paid him any attention for years had just walked out of his life. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he was going to get over it this time. Frank stood looking at the door, almost as if he expected Orlando to walk back in again. He was aghast at the can of worms he had unwittingly opened.
tbc