More Fic
Title: The Quality of Enduring (2/3)
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This never happened. I'm just playing here.
Summary: Viggo's trying to take care of Sean.
He honestly didn’t believe Sean when he tried to warn him earlier, but now he was beginning to believe him. He chooses to not follow Sean’s suggestions on where he should stuck the food he brought him, and throws it into the garbage instead. Tries recalling Sean’s exact phrasing as he rinses the dishes, but he’s pretty sure he never heard some of the words Sean used before today. Nothing he can’t handle though, because, apart from those words he doesn’t know, he’s been called worse. Viggo reminds himself that it’s the fever talking, and he should probably take Sean’s temperature, decides to wait a little while, thinking that Sean would probably have some suggestions when it comes to the thermometer as well.
His thoughts wander towards the painting he’d been working on before he checked on Sean this morning. Sighs as he recalls the joy he felt when he was working on it, having Sean home after months spent alone always made him feel close to ecstatic. He’s perfectly capable of functioning without Sean, it’s just that it’s so much better when Sean’s actually around. Maybe he should talk to Sean about that, ask him to work a little less so they can spend a little more time together. But then again, knowing how much Sean loves his work, it wouldn’t really be fair to ask him to give it up for him. It would be like Sean asking him to not paint so much when he’s home, and Sean would never do that, because Sean understands that him being there is exactly the reason why Viggo’s painting so much.
A loud bang from upstairs interrupts his train of thought and he waits a moment, listening intently and not moving until he hears his name being called.
He rushes up the stairs and into the bedroom only to find a very angry looking Sean sitting up in bed. Hair tousled and cheeks flushed making Sean look like a petulant child. Fucking adorable.
“Where the fuck were you?” Sean asks, his voice hoarse.
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“I did not.”
Sean’s actually pouting now and Viggo has to fight the urge to smile. He does decide on the censored version of Sean’s earlier suggestions though. “Yes, you did, Sean. I believe you said something along the lines of ‘get the fuck out you cock sucking wanker’.”
Sean shrugs, doesn’t seem to be bothered by Viggo’s words, or his own to be exact. “I’m hungry.”
Viggo blinks, shakes his head in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Sean. You just told me to stick the food some place where the sun doesn’t shine and now you’re hungry?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I said where the sun don’t shine.”
Viggo sighs, walks up to Sean’s bed, fully aware of Sean’s eyes following his every move. “I”m not discussing your poor grammar right now, Sean.” He takes hold of the sheet, thinking of tucking Sean back in after his relentless tossing and turning all afternoon, only to avoid getting kicked in the face by jumping aside at the very last minute. “What the hell?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
He decides to just leave the sheet, let the bastard get cold, and shakes his head once again. Feels like he’s doing it all the damn time today. “No need for that, you’re pretty pissed off without my help.”
Sean scowls, which reminds Viggo of one of Sean’s movies, he’s not sure which one, one where he played the bad guy, but that’s not really narrowing it down much.
“I warned you.”
Viggo nods. “You did. Maybe I should’ve listened to you then.”
And now Sean’s looking worried, no, panicked is a better description of the way Sean’s staring at him right now and it makes him want to take Sean in his arms and just hold him and make things better. But he’s pretty sure that Sean wouldn’t appreciate that all that much right now so, instead, he takes hold of the sheet, his eyes on Sean, warning him not to pull that earlier stunt again.
Sean doesn’t move, but Viggo can tell that it’s taking an effort because every muscle in Sean’s body visibly tenses and he settles for a sloppy job not wanting to see how long Sean can restrain himself. Not that he fears Sean actually hurting him, he can handle that, but he’s not too sure Sean will be able to handle it.
“What do you want, Sean?”
“I want you to get the fuck out,” Sean says curtly.
Viggo nods and turns towards the door. Not that he wants to be a cop out, but he asked so the least he can do is honor the man’s wish and he heads for the door.
“Vig, stay. Please?”
He turns around and looks at Sean who’s doing his best to avoid meeting Viggo’s gaze. “What do you want, Sean?” He asks again, his voice softer this time as he watches Sean’s hands fidget with the bedsheets.
“I want you to leave,” Sean coughs violently, and Viggo once again finds himself fighting the urge to hold Sean in his arms, which probably isn’t the best thing to do when someone’s suffocating any way. Sean finally stops coughing, takes a deep breath and mumbles, “But I don’t want to be alone either.”
And Viggo can’t recall why he actually considered throttling Sean only half an hour ago.
“Just try not to be so bleeding annoying, okay?”
He vaguely remembers now. “And how do I annoy you then, Sean?”
Sean scowls. “Don’t mock me you fucker.”
“I’m just asking.”
Sean shrugs and he pulls the blankets up, avoiding Viggo’s eyes as he busies himself with covering himself before he says, “Just don’t talk, okay? Don’t fuss, don’t touch me. Just stay right there.”
Viggo arches one eyebrow and if he wasn’t mocking Sean earlier, he is now, asking, “Can I at least breathe?”
Sean chooses to ignore the question, or maybe he misses it all together because his eyes start falling shut and if Viggo was a religious man he would thank God for small favors. He walks up to the bed, wanting to tuck Sean in, decides against it when Sean makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Backs off and settles down into the chair beside the bed, desperately hoping for Sean to recover quickly.
Nothing he can’t handle though. And that’s the thought he’ll be holding on to for the next couple of days.
Pairing: SB/VM
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This never happened. I'm just playing here.
Summary: Viggo's trying to take care of Sean.
He honestly didn’t believe Sean when he tried to warn him earlier, but now he was beginning to believe him. He chooses to not follow Sean’s suggestions on where he should stuck the food he brought him, and throws it into the garbage instead. Tries recalling Sean’s exact phrasing as he rinses the dishes, but he’s pretty sure he never heard some of the words Sean used before today. Nothing he can’t handle though, because, apart from those words he doesn’t know, he’s been called worse. Viggo reminds himself that it’s the fever talking, and he should probably take Sean’s temperature, decides to wait a little while, thinking that Sean would probably have some suggestions when it comes to the thermometer as well.
His thoughts wander towards the painting he’d been working on before he checked on Sean this morning. Sighs as he recalls the joy he felt when he was working on it, having Sean home after months spent alone always made him feel close to ecstatic. He’s perfectly capable of functioning without Sean, it’s just that it’s so much better when Sean’s actually around. Maybe he should talk to Sean about that, ask him to work a little less so they can spend a little more time together. But then again, knowing how much Sean loves his work, it wouldn’t really be fair to ask him to give it up for him. It would be like Sean asking him to not paint so much when he’s home, and Sean would never do that, because Sean understands that him being there is exactly the reason why Viggo’s painting so much.
A loud bang from upstairs interrupts his train of thought and he waits a moment, listening intently and not moving until he hears his name being called.
He rushes up the stairs and into the bedroom only to find a very angry looking Sean sitting up in bed. Hair tousled and cheeks flushed making Sean look like a petulant child. Fucking adorable.
“Where the fuck were you?” Sean asks, his voice hoarse.
“You told me to leave you alone.”
“I did not.”
Sean’s actually pouting now and Viggo has to fight the urge to smile. He does decide on the censored version of Sean’s earlier suggestions though. “Yes, you did, Sean. I believe you said something along the lines of ‘get the fuck out you cock sucking wanker’.”
Sean shrugs, doesn’t seem to be bothered by Viggo’s words, or his own to be exact. “I’m hungry.”
Viggo blinks, shakes his head in disbelief. “For fuck’s sake, Sean. You just told me to stick the food some place where the sun doesn’t shine and now you’re hungry?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I said where the sun don’t shine.”
Viggo sighs, walks up to Sean’s bed, fully aware of Sean’s eyes following his every move. “I”m not discussing your poor grammar right now, Sean.” He takes hold of the sheet, thinking of tucking Sean back in after his relentless tossing and turning all afternoon, only to avoid getting kicked in the face by jumping aside at the very last minute. “What the hell?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
He decides to just leave the sheet, let the bastard get cold, and shakes his head once again. Feels like he’s doing it all the damn time today. “No need for that, you’re pretty pissed off without my help.”
Sean scowls, which reminds Viggo of one of Sean’s movies, he’s not sure which one, one where he played the bad guy, but that’s not really narrowing it down much.
“I warned you.”
Viggo nods. “You did. Maybe I should’ve listened to you then.”
And now Sean’s looking worried, no, panicked is a better description of the way Sean’s staring at him right now and it makes him want to take Sean in his arms and just hold him and make things better. But he’s pretty sure that Sean wouldn’t appreciate that all that much right now so, instead, he takes hold of the sheet, his eyes on Sean, warning him not to pull that earlier stunt again.
Sean doesn’t move, but Viggo can tell that it’s taking an effort because every muscle in Sean’s body visibly tenses and he settles for a sloppy job not wanting to see how long Sean can restrain himself. Not that he fears Sean actually hurting him, he can handle that, but he’s not too sure Sean will be able to handle it.
“What do you want, Sean?”
“I want you to get the fuck out,” Sean says curtly.
Viggo nods and turns towards the door. Not that he wants to be a cop out, but he asked so the least he can do is honor the man’s wish and he heads for the door.
“Vig, stay. Please?”
He turns around and looks at Sean who’s doing his best to avoid meeting Viggo’s gaze. “What do you want, Sean?” He asks again, his voice softer this time as he watches Sean’s hands fidget with the bedsheets.
“I want you to leave,” Sean coughs violently, and Viggo once again finds himself fighting the urge to hold Sean in his arms, which probably isn’t the best thing to do when someone’s suffocating any way. Sean finally stops coughing, takes a deep breath and mumbles, “But I don’t want to be alone either.”
And Viggo can’t recall why he actually considered throttling Sean only half an hour ago.
“Just try not to be so bleeding annoying, okay?”
He vaguely remembers now. “And how do I annoy you then, Sean?”
Sean scowls. “Don’t mock me you fucker.”
“I’m just asking.”
Sean shrugs and he pulls the blankets up, avoiding Viggo’s eyes as he busies himself with covering himself before he says, “Just don’t talk, okay? Don’t fuss, don’t touch me. Just stay right there.”
Viggo arches one eyebrow and if he wasn’t mocking Sean earlier, he is now, asking, “Can I at least breathe?”
Sean chooses to ignore the question, or maybe he misses it all together because his eyes start falling shut and if Viggo was a religious man he would thank God for small favors. He walks up to the bed, wanting to tuck Sean in, decides against it when Sean makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Backs off and settles down into the chair beside the bed, desperately hoping for Sean to recover quickly.
Nothing he can’t handle though. And that’s the thought he’ll be holding on to for the next couple of days.