Sentences Stupid Moments between Orlando and Sean in New Zealand
#1 – Waltz
“Orlando!” Sean barked. “’and on hip, ‘and on hip! Get yer dirty paw off me arse!”
“Yeah, Lando,” said Dom, grinning from the corner where he was watching the impromptu dance lesson. “Get your hands off his Northern arse, it’s priceless.”
“Just use MasterCard,” Viggo drawled as he waltzed by alone.
#2 – Flexible
“Look,” Viggo was earnestly telling Orlando. “If you practice yoga enough, one day you can suck your own dick!”
Sean stopped at the door, turned around, and walked back out of the room.
#3 – Ice
“You said you wanted to cool down!” he yelped as he wiped his hand on his pants. It was a little too late, because there was a red-faced Northern bastard chasing him. “I was helping you, you stupid Northern Neanderthal!”
“I didn’t ask fer you ta put ice down me damn shirt!”
#4 – Temptation
Sean’s fingers itched. He wanted to touch; wanted to reach out and just take it into his hands... He wanted… and Sean couldn’t hold it back anymore. He reached out to one of Legolas’s little side braids and pulled.
“Beanie, what the fuck?!”
The look on Orlando’s face was totally worth the lecture from Costumes.
#5 – Flying
“The helicopter is flying! We’re up in the air! Oh, shit, we’re flying into a dinosaur’s mouth! The teeth are incoming, we’re all going to die! But no, the fan blades are cutting its teeth! We’re free, and the helicopter triumphs once more!”
“Orlando,” Sean said, teeth gritted and hand leaving hand-shaped bruises on Orlando’s thigh. “Shut the fuck up.”
#6 – Naked
“If I take pictures of you right now,” Orlando said slowly, tilting his head to the side. “Do you think it’ll get me enough to secure my retirement if this acting gig doesn’t work out?”
Sean blinked at him. The droplets of water lingering on his skin after a shower also blinked. Then he raised a middle finger and walked out of the communal shower room.
“Sharpe arse! Booyeah!”
#7 – Blood
“Sean! Sean, help, I’m dying! I’m dyyyyyying!” Orlando yelped, windmilling his one remaining arm while his other one gushed blood everywhere.
Sean patiently put a Band-Aid over the papercut on his thumb.
#8 – King
They were having a party for Sean, a weekend before they left. It was Orlando and Viggo’s idea, and unlike most ideas concerning the two of them, it was a good one—to try to enact, in an abridged way, all the scenes that Boromir should had taken part in.
It was why Orlando was wearing earphone wires on top of his Legolas wig.
“I am the King of Mirkwood!” he proclaimed, punching a hand into the air and nearly taking Lawrence’s eyes out.
Sean looked at him critically. Then he turned away and ground his cigarette stub against the ashtray.
“Legolas is a Prince, you fucking retard.”
#9 – Attention
“Beanie!” Orlando launched himself from his chair like a suicidal lemming and clutched onto Sean’s leg. His own legs fell beneath him with a particularly resounding thud. “This is a wonderful morning, because I have seen your face!”
Sean grunted noncommittally and continued walking, though now he had a limp since Orlando was attached.
“… You’re ignoring me.”
Sean grunted again. It might be agreement or denial. Orlando looked at him, (then turned around and quickly dropped two eye drops into his eyes) his luminous brown orbs filling up with tears.
“You’re ignoring me!” he wailed, throwing himself backwards away from Sean. “Fine! I will go get dressed and be responsible and you’ll never see me again!”
Sean drank his morning tea. He savoured it. After thirty seconds or so, he blinked, turned around and looked at Dom.
“Did I ‘ear that stupid Elf’s voice?” he didn’t even wait for Dom’s reply before he started ambling towards the toast part of the breakfast table.
Dom sighed, turning to the cute little extra he was talking to. “They do this every morning,” he informed her.
#10 – Hide
“Quick! Hide me from Beanie!” Orlando ducked behind Viggo. Viggo immediately moved, shifting his hip so that the distinctive Mohawk was immediately visible. Orlando scowled at him, poking at said hip to try to get it to move back, but Viggo was unmoved.
“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Orlando continued poking at the hip, “He’s on some kind of rampage.”
“Why?” Viggo asked again.
“Might have drank the last of his beer.”
Viggo looked at him for a moment before he lifted his head, “Hey, Sean! Orlando’s over here!”
“Elf, yer so fuckin’ dead!”
“Viggo, you traitor!”
#11 – Waves
“These fuckin’ waves, man,” Sean waved a hand at it, and Orlando dodged the lighted end of his cigarette before it burnt his face. “Every time I see the beach, I’m always thinkin’- man, the waves’ lives suck, because all they can do is ta go in, out, in, out, all the time, and the beach ain’t even a good fuck because it’s just lyin’ there like some kind of dead fish. Fuckin’ patient waves when they’re fuckin’, because it’s not like they ever go faster or anythin’. Just keep at the same damn speed, in, out, in, out, all the damn time.”
“Sean,” Orlando said slowly. “You’re ridiculously drunk.”
Sean looked at him.
“No shit. I’m talkin’ like you.”
#12 – Winter
“Beanieeeeeeeeee,” Orlando whined. He was wrapped up in layers and layers of heavy jackets during one of the breaks. They were all of different colours, so he looked more like a fashion victim than usual. “Beanie, it’s coooooold. Let’s have blanket sex to keep warm or else we’ll die of frostbite…”
Sean looked at him. At the corner of his eyes, he could see a few of the crew giggling and a few more starting to inch away from the two of them.
“Nope,” he sipped calmly at his tea.
“But Beanieeeeeeeeeeeee,” Orlando inched closer, risking his pile of jackets falling off him as he wrapped his arms around Sean’s shoulder and started to rub against him like an overly affectionate cat. “I’m cold…”
“If you’re heartless, why are you letting me rub all over you? You have a heart, Beanie, and I’ll find—”
“Sean!” Viggo bellowed from half a set around, running full-tilt towards the man. Sean looked at him, eyes narrowed. Like a seasoned football star, he calculated the angle of entry- and turned his body so that when Viggo slammed into him, he smashed straight into Orlando. The impact threw the both of them off of him, and the two of them rolled on the Caradhas set like two particularly energetic bear cubs who had swallowed rainbows.
#13 – Head
“You’ve got a…” Sean motioned to his own face, near the forehead area. “Little spot there. Spoils your Elven complexion.”
Orlando pouted, “Lawrence head-butted me,” he whined. “Sean, will you defend my honour?”
“Nah,” Sean said, lighting a cigarette. “Figured you were dropped on yer ‘ead as a baby, so it must be thick. No ‘arm done.”
“Besides,” Sean continued. “I’ve got me own Mannish complexion ta think about.”
#14 – Pretty
“He’s so damn pretty, you know,” Sean said. He was sitting next to Viggo in the bar during one of their quiet nights out. He sipped at his beer and continued, “Like… like I don’t fuckin’ know, some kind of moonshine or somethin’.”
“Moonshine is crappy ass beer, Sean,” Viggo said. He had a peculiar smile on his face, like he was committing this conversation to memory so he could blackmail Sean about it later.
“Yeah, look, it’s like fuckin’ crappy ass beer that’s nice and golden when the sun ‘its it, and then you take a taste and it taste like piss,” he paused. Sipped at his beer. “I ain’t know where the fuck am I goin’.”
“Orlando is shitty beer,” Viggo contributed helpfully. “Tastes like piss. Though, considering that they share the same tube…”
Sean stared at him. “We ain’t fuckin’,” he said, and blinked. “Don’t know why we ain’t, but we ain’t.” He blinked again. “I should change that, huh?”
“Sure, why not?” Viggo said, and he drained his own beer and reached out to slap Sean on the shoulder. Sean nodded, determined, and he ambled out of the bar.
Two minutes later, Dom dropped down onto the chair and stared at Viggo.
“So… where the hell is Beanie? Orlando is in his corner wailing like some kind of maiden and Sean isn’t here to shut him up.”
“He's going to fuck shitty beer because it’s pretty,” Viggo said before he cracked, cackling loudly enough to silence the bar as they all turned to stare at him.
Everyone is fucking nutters, Dom thought. Fucking nutters.
#15 – Ears
“It’s so fucking ironic,” Orlando said as he plopped down to sit next to Sean.
Sean just looked at him. He had gotten used to Orlando and his habit of starting conversations in the middle or something. It was as if, after the first time they met, Orlando had gotten allergic to saying ‘hello’.
“You’re playing a Man who hates Elves,” Orlando continued blithely. “But you got natural Elf ears.”
He leered at them.
“It’s Boromir’s secret plan,” Sean said, waving an arm. Orlando ducked so it didn’t brain him across the face. “Go ta the ‘ome of the Elves with the ears, and get ‘em ta trust ‘im.”
Orlando considered that for a moment.
“Boromir’s shit at planning.”
#16 – Potatoes
“Potatoes! Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew. Potatoes, boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew…”
Orlando threw a potato at Sean’s head.
“Stick ‘em in your mouth, Beanie!”
“Ooh,” Billy observed. “They have now moved onto sexual innuendo. I think Sean and Orlando have levelled up.”
Viggo strolled past. “Sean is a Bulbasaur,” he contributed, and continued walking.
#17 – Quiet
It had been quiet in the Sean-and-Orlando corner for the past ten minutes. The world held its breath.
In that corner, Orlando fidgeted. He nudged his toe against the floor. Then he literally twiddled his thumbs for three seconds before giving up on holding back against the temptation. He poked Sean under the ribs.
“What the fuck, Elf?!” Sean roared, turning around and tackling Orlando to the ground. Orlando screeched in protest, and the world breathed easily again.
#18 – Waste
Sean snatched the can of beer out of Orlando’s hand before he could throw it into the trash. With one smooth motion, he swung it back and finished it to the last drop. Orlando stared at the sight of his long throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. It distracted him until Sean finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pulling a face.
“You drink shit beer, Elf,” he complained.
Orlando blinked. Opened his mouth, then closed it, “What the hell! Why did you drink it then? I was just going to throw it!”
“Don’t waste beer,” Sean advised, his eyes narrowing. “Not even shit beer.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, Orlando said, “I was just thinking that you’re hot, but now you remind me of my mother and that is just wrong. Please die, Beanie.”
“Nah,” Sean said. “Someone’s got to make sure that you recycle properly.”
#19 – Silk
Orlando stroked a hand slowly through the cloth. “Ooooh, precious…” he purred, rubbing his face against the smooth, cool surface. “Oooh, you feel so good…”
A little distance away, Sean stared at Orlando humping his Boromir costume. He blinked then turned around, yelling towards the direction of the costumes tents-
“Boromir needs a new set of clothes ‘cause Orlando just desecrated this one and I ain’t touchin’ it again!”
“Too bad,” Orlando said, and he tossed the red tunic at Sean’s head.
#20 – Talent
“I don’t get why people keep harping on how talented Viggo is,” Orlando complained, kicking at the grass beneath his shoe. “I love the guy, man, but Sean can play the piano, he can paint, he can take photographs… Hell, he can weld and smith too but everyone keeps talking about Viggo’s talents, Viggo’s photographs… Someone needs to talk about Beanie, for fuck’s sake.”
Dom stared at him. “Yeah,” he said finally. “But Beanie never gives anyone his stash of weed. Besides, I think everyone’s afraid to.”
Orlando blinked, tipping his head to the side, “Scared of what?”
“They think you’ll probably shank them if they say anything about Sean.” Dom looked at Orlando for a long moment, speculative. “You won’t, will you?”
#21 – Hero
“Oh, Legolas, you are the greatest hero in the whole of Middle Earth,” Sean deadpanned in the flattest voice he could manage, looking at his nails. He lifted his eyes, lips twitching slightly before he continued, “You have achieved something no one else ever had. You have brought me my beer. Hurray. Three cheers for Legolas.”
Orlando put down the bottle and huffed, “So ungrateful.”
#22 – Hands
“Do you know,” Viggo said, suddenly sitting down next to him. He was still dressed in Aragorn’s clothes, but the manic look in his eyes was pure Viggo. “Do you know that Orlando wrote a really shitty sonnet yesterday to your hands?”
Sean raised an eyebrow.
Viggo raised his in return, “Do you object to the sonnet part, the shitty part, or the hands part?”
“Stop encouragin’ the idiot,” Sean sighed.
There was a moment when Viggo considered the proposition. Then he shrugged. “Nah.”
“Why the ‘ell not?”
“A good reader will never encourage the continued existence of his favourite serial,” Viggo intoned, and before Sean could ask him to translate from Viggo to English, he was gone.
#23 – Ring
“With this Ring I thee wed…” Elijah’s voice was drowsy, and Sean ducked so he wasn’t brained by the One Ring in his hand. “Do you promise to take this man, Orlando Motherfucking Idiot Bloom, …something, something, obey, stop him from fucking with my head, stop him from braining himself, something, something, devotion, love, Sean?”
“Er,” Orlando said, blinking.
“No,” Sean said. “I ain’t a fuckin’ miracle worker.”
#24 – Farewell
“Fer fuck’s sake, Orlando,” Sean rolled his eyes. In his arms, Orlando wailed even louder. “I’m going with Vigs to South Island for a week; it ain’t the fuckin’ end of the world. Stop burstin’ me damn eardrums.”
#25 – Hair
It's the fucking hair, Sean decides. It's the fucking wig and how it fucking glows in the damn dark, and that's the reason why their barely-legal Elf is catching his eye. Cross his heart. There's no other reason for it.
Sean chews on his cigarette angrily and suddenly remembers that it's not exactly a cigar when the filter explodes in a wellspring of Disgusting Taste. He spits it out, shaking his head hard before he hacks up a tiny piece of paper that's gotten stuck on his tongue. Jesus. This is what getting distracted by Orlando's shiny Elf hair has gotten him to.
"It's bad to litter, you Northern bastard," Orlando bounds over, and he smacks Sean on the back hard enough to make him sputter again. Said Northern bastard glares at him, but Orlando just grins and shrugs hard, his fucking glowing hair shining behind him. Though, this close, he looks fucking retarded, because he has a purple bandanna on and it clashes with everything he wears.
It kind of matches Boromir's tunic though, and Sean whacks Orlando over the head in retribution for making him think stupid shit. Jesus Christ. He leans down and grabs onto his bottle of beer - not any of that American shit that Viggo keeps drinking, but actual British beer, thank you very much, imports - and taking a swig.
"Littering's throwing you into the damn ocean," he replies, wiping at his mouth. He tries to glare, but it's a shit, pathetic thing and Orlando only laughs before he steals Sean's beer and finishes it like the shameless bastard he is. Sean growls, and Orlando just grins at him, making obscene moans against the mouth of the bottle before he chucks it back at Sean. Sean barely resists the urge to throw it at his head. It might, he assures himself, just ruin the damn hair. Can't have the object of his excuse obsession ruined, can it?
Orlando arches an eyebrow, "Nah, Beanie, you're too old to actually pick me up and throw me in." And the kid's got a sense of self-preservation, because he scarpered the moment he said it, and Sean roared before he gave chase, running over the lush fields of Middle Earth New Zealand. There's a pile of battle axe models for the dwarves, and he picks one up and tosses it at Orlando's head. But apparently the Elf has too much practice with homicidal humans, and he only ducks. Behind them, Sean can already hear the hobbits hoot and start to place bets on whether he can catch up to Orlando's long legs.
"Throwing things isn't a solution to sexual tension," Viggo says, meandering around just in time to stop Orlando from crashing into him. He gives Sean a wide grin that always makes him look like a lunatic off his medication, and Sean flips him off before giving chase harder.
"Yeah, Seanie! If you ever catch me, I might even let you ravish me, ooh Mister Mellors!"
Sean slows, picks up a tiny rock, and aims that Orlando's head. It hits, and Orlando swoons like some damsel in distress, a hand on his chest, and Sean yells in victory as he tackles him onto the ground. Orlando's laughter screeches out into the air and he becomes a veritable octopus, limbs flailing out every which way until Sean has to practically flatten himself onto the damn bastard to get him to stay still.
"Jesus Christ, Elf, you fucking stink!"
"It's the sweet scent of my manly Elf sweat, Bean! It's essential to Legolas's characterisation!"
"Oooh, ten bucks this turns into grinding in five minutes!" That is Dom's voice. That boy is dead.
"I say three!" So is Elijah. He should warn PJ that he has to replace at least three of his actors soon.
Orlando enthusiastically wiggles his butt, trying to catch Sean off guard before he throws him off, but Sean only pins him down further.
Sexual tension, Orlando's very nice arse. There isn't any. They are all fucking insane.