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Feb. 8th, 2009 09:02 pm
bloominbabylonfic: (BanaBloom)
[personal profile] bloominbabylonfic

Because she's an evil witch, [livejournal.com profile] galor5 requested Eric/Orlando "Eric goes back to his wife".

He kept his cell phone near him. Always, just in case. And it pissed off his wife to no end.

Eric roused to the familiar ring tone and quickly got out of bed to answer his cell. Pulling the bedroom door behind him closed, Eric flipped open his phone without saying anything.


“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m here. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Orlando said softly. “I just…”

“Just what?” Eric asked. He maneuvered carefully in the dark house; he’d managed to get to the cell before it woke his wife and he didn’t want to crash into anything and wake her now. He wasn’t in the mood for another fight.

“I miss you,” Orlando whispered. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Eric wanted to smile, but he didn’t like the sound of anxiousness in Orlando’s voice. “I miss you too. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Orlando breathed heavily with relief. “Sometimes it’s harder than others. When I’m alone.”

“Fuck,” Eric groaned and rubbed his face, “I’m sorry Orlando.”

“Don’t be,” Orlando reassured. “I knew what I was doing when I agreed to this. It just seems so long since I’ve seen you.”

It had been. Nearly two months since he’d held Orlando.

“It won’t be much longer. I promise,” Eric whispered urgently. He needed Orlando to believe to hang on. Orlando chuckled sadly and panic seized Eric. “Please don’t give up on me now. We’re so close.”

His plea was met with silence. He’d asked too much. It was bad enough when his wife had blackmailed Eric into staying with her, threatening to keep his children from him, that he’d asked Orlando to wait for him. Wait for Eric to find the right lawyers, to end his marriage and keep his children. But then he’d asked for more time and then more.

His biggest fear was always that Orlando would grow tired of waiting. Tired of hiding in dark hotel rooms when Eric could manage a week away. That he’d figure out that Eric wasn’t worth the pain and grief he’d caused Orlando.

“Please, Orlando. It shouldn’t be much longer. I swear. I’ll be in LA next week, we’ll have two weeks together.”

“You know where to find me,” Orlando said softly.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”


His wife rolled over as he climbed back into bed.

“Who was on the phone?”

“No one,” Eric lied and lay with his back to her.

“You were on the phone with ‘no one’ for over an hour.”

“Drop it.”

“I think I have a right to know who my husband was talking to at three in the morning.”

Eric snorted. “You don’t have a right to anything.”


She also requested Eric/Orlando, "How to make coffee."  Don't be fooled by her pick of a sweet prompt thought, she's still a witch.

Soft murmuring next to his hear woke him. He tried to stretch, but the warm tangle of limbs around him kept Eric in place. He wasn’t alone.

It was still so new. And pleasant. Very pleasant.

Cracking open an eye, Eric saw half of a face, covered with messy brown curls and a single bead that the costume people had missed resting on Orlando’s cheek.


He grinned. Wide and foolish, happy that Orlando was still asleep and couldn’t see the lovesick and most likely horribly sappy smile.

He’d liked Orlando, been enamored with, had a crush on (according to Bean) or had a hard-on for (according to Brad) since they’d met on the Black Hawk Down set. But getting Orlando into bed had been a fantasy at best. Falling in love with him and having Orlando return those feelings…a distant, hopeful dream.

But here they were, crushes confessed, desires explored and brought to life. More than once, Eric smirked in the dark room. He hugged Orlando close and kissed his forehead.

The alarm shrieked on the bedside stand and Orlando’s arm flailed out from under the duvet. Eric grabbed Orlando’s thrashing arm with one hand, preventing a near bloody nose and knocked the alarm to the floor with the other.

“Coffee.” Orlando grunted and buried his face into Eric’s neck. “Need.”

“I’ll get it,” Eric smiled and kissed the top of his head.

After carefully extracting him himself, Eric pulled on his discarded shorts. Long fingers curled around his hip. He looked back at Orlando. His eyes were still closed and he had a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Hurry.” Eric lifted his hand and kissed Orlando’s palm. He didn’t know if Orlando was talking about the coffee or for him to get back to bed. “Bed cold.”

Ah. Him, then. Another silly smile broke across Eric’s face.

Eric wandered into the living room of Orlando’s small apartment and into the kitchen. He carefully navigated around various pieces of clothes, piles of books, pages of script. Given the state of the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was surprisingly clean. Then again, Orlando hadn’t been cooking in his own apartment for the last week.


“Jesus! This is terrible! It’s like brown water. Not ever brown. Tan. Tan water.”

“I warned you,” Orlando said.

“I thought you were kidding. How many scoops did you put in?”


“And how much water?”

“About six.”

“Come on,” Eric said and stood up and walked to the tiny kitchenette.

Orlando grinned at Eric’s broad back as he followed. “What’re you going to do?”

“Show you how to make coffee.”

A Mr. Coffee 12 cup coffee maker sat on the counter. Christ. He didn’t even have a proper thermal carafe. Filters were scattered around the counter and a black trail of ground coffee.

“C’mon,” Eric said and took Orlando’s hand. “We’re going to my place. Can’t teach you on a Mr. Coffee.”

“Ok, but I’ll make dinner tomorrow.”

“Deal. Cause I suck at cooking.” Eric said, hoping that Orlando’s cooking skills were at least marginally better than his coffee making. Or at least better than his own.

Orlando was an extraordinary cook. He amazed Eric with one delicious meal after another. And Eric couldn’t understand how he was such a good cook, but couldn’t make a cup of coffee if his life depended on it.

And as far as Eric was concerned, life did depend on coffee.

But as much as Eric valued coffee, he valued the time he was spending with Orlando even more. They talked and laughed, started to get to know each other. Built a base for something more than a friendship. Not that he wasn’t interested in Orlando sexually, far from it, but he wanted more from sex with Orlando than just a release of physical need.

And he’d gotten it. Two nights ago, they’d come together in a rush of heat and passion. Orlando had sidled up next to Eric in the kitchen, pressing against length of Eric’s body. Wrapping his arms around Eric’s shoulders and kissing the spot just below Eric’s eat, he’d whispered, “I don’t want any coffee tonight.”

The makeup people had bitched them out the next day for the dark circles under they’re eyes, but Eric and Orlando just smiled.


Eric scratched his belly, grinning as he stated looking through the cabinets for the filters and coffee. He preferred his premium Kona beans, freshly ground, but he’d do his best with the knock off brand Orlando had picked up and the dreaded Mr. Coffee. He’d go out today and buy all the things he’d need to make a good cup of coffee at Orlando’s apartment.

There were only three cabinets in the tiny kitchen and naturally it was the last one Eric looked in that he found what he was looking for. Except it wasn’t.

There wasn’t any Mr. Coffee maker, there was a French press coffee maker and a Krups bean grinder. There wasn’t a plastic container of some nameless coffee, there was beans from Ethiopia, Brazil, even Arabica beans from Eastern Africa.

He even had a cappuccino machine!

“Crafty little shit,” Eric murmured.

He set water to boil and went back to the bedroom. He stripped off his shorts and climbed in behind Orlando, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him backward. Orlando sighed happily and pushed back into the heat of Eric’s body.

“What took you so long?”

“I was browsing your selection of imported coffees.” Orlando turned over in Eric’s arms and kissed him. “You know how to make coffee,” he smiled and kissed Orlando back.

Without a hint of shame or embarrassment, he answered, “I do. I make really good coffee actually.”


“I wanted to see you, somewhere other than on set. Get to know you.”

“You could have just asked me over.”

“Yeah,” Orlando snorted, “and you could have come up with a better way to get me in your apartment than coffee lessons.”

“It wasn’t a plan, per se” Eric blushed to the tips of his ears. “Just a good opportunity.”

Orlando threw a leg over Eric’s hip and pulled their bodies together, rubbing slowly against Eric. “I don’t care,” he chuckled softly. “But starting tonight, you’re cooking dinner.”

“I’m not sure you really want that,” Eric smiled and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Orlando’s neck. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t cook.”


Not much, but hopefully will kick free the muses.
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