Viggo is yanked rudely from his book by knocking on the door. Dammit, he's been *enjoying* the rare day off, and the book. He takes the book with him, still reading, and grumbles his way to the door. Can't be Sean, he thinks, he wouldn't knock, just let himself in. Probably Orli, looking for someone to pester.
He flings the door open, and catches sight of three giggling hobbits minutes before the Nerf darts hit his book, brought up to chest level as a shield. thunkthunkthunkthunk go the darts, snickergiggle go the hobbits, as they run off down the lane. Sigh goes Viggo, picking darts from his much maligned book. "It wasn't that bad," he grumbles, and pads back to the couch, dismissing the attack as bored hobbits on the rampage.
It's several days later before he realizes this is more than an isolated incident... and by then, it's almost too late.
They've just finished filming this take of the council scene, and everyone's left except Viggo, Orlando, and Hugo, all of whom have details to discuss with PJ. Or at least that's what Viggo thinks. In reality, the truth is much simpler--and much more sinister.
He's finished with PJ, and turns to ask the Elf to go for a pint. There's that familiar, dreaded pop, and a Nerf dart hits him square in the chest. "Orli!" he roars, and heads for the Elfboy--who tosses the gun over Viggo's head to Hugo. In a graceful move, Hugo snatches the gun in mid-air, and before Viggo can wheel around to face him, shoots him in the ass.
"That *hurt*, you pointy-eared bastard," Viggo growls.
Hugo just smirks. "Could be worse... I bet Elrond owes Aragorn a few good spankings."
Viggo scowls for a moment, and then grins, a grin so evil that both Hugo and Orli take a step back. "Of course you realize, this means war." He lets the grin hover for a moment, and then walks off, saying nothing more.
"Oh, shit," breathes Orli, and Hugo can only nod.
"We'd better watch our backs, kid."
"And our fronts, and our sheets and..."
Sean's roused from a deep, much-needed sleep (that's the *last* time he goes out with Karl, Craig, and the stunties) by an odd sound.
clickwhishTHUMPthud whirr clickwhishTHUMPthud
Rolling over, he realizes Viggo's side of the bed is long cold, which means...
Sean sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. Viggo has been abstracted and distant lately, barely managing more than a goodnight kiss and the occasional quick bout of comfortable frottage before he was out like a light, and then always up far earlier than Sean most mornings. He's used to Viggo's abstraction, but this is bordering on obsession.
Sighing again, he pulls on a pair of sweats and pads barefoot out to the back garden, expecting to see Viggo working out with Anduril again.
Instead, he finds Viggo with a Nerf six-shooter in his hand, firing at small round plastic targets, launched from a loudly-whirring machine. Well, that *does* explain the noise, he thinks.
Without missing a shot, Viggo tosses the six-shooter lying on the table at his side over his shoulder, and Sean makes a perfect catch. He steps up to join Viggo, firing and hitting three of the six targets before Viggo can.
It's only when Viggo moves to reload the target shooter and his gun that Sean realizes he still has one dart left. And, as Viggo bends over to retrieve a disk, he's got the perfect target... so he shoots. And scores. Viggo claps a hand to his abused rear and growls, "You'll pay for that."
Which Sean does, through several rounds of Nerf gun wars, and later--and much more pleasurably, though arguably more fun--with his tongue and teeth, soothing the injury and replacing it with a mark of his own.
Once Viggo explains the Nerf war, Sean is all too happy to help. As with everything else, they find they are perfectly matched, able to fire simultaneously at two widely-spaced (and moving, which is likely important when one is targeting hobbits and elves) targets and hit them dead on.
It becomes almost a meditation for them both, relaxing and calming... well, up to a point.
Inevitably, this sort of thing leaves them both panting (from exertion), sticky (from... exercise) and grass-stained (rolling around... *lots* of rolling around). And most of the time, Viggo wins.
But every once in a while, Sean gets lucky (oh, who's he kidding, every time they *do* this he gets lucky...). Like right now, when he's realized Viggo is out of ammunition... and he still has one dart left.
He cocks the gun, smiling evilly. "I believe I have the advantage. Surrender, or... well, I suppose you'll just be thoroughly humiliated." He grins. "What's your answer?"
Viggo drops his now-empty gun. "Hmmm.... I think... surrender." And with a wicked grin of his own, he flows to his knees in front of Sean, yanks down his jogging shorts, and shows him how good his surrender is.
Sean later realizes he never let go of the Nerf gun—and that the last dart is somewhere in their back lawn... itchy trigger finger, brought on by extreme stimulation. "Good thing," he says to Viggo later, "I was pointing it at the ground!" Viggo, who's scrubbing the newest round of grass stains off his knees, only grins.
It's a few weeks later before Viggo realizes they have the perfect chance for revenge—the Council scene, once again, and everyone will be there. As a gunslinger duo, they're as good as they're going to get; so he broaches the idea to Sean, who agrees with an evil grin, and a kiss... and the promise of more once it's all over.
That day, they carry the carefully-disguised Nerf guns (wrapped in spare cloaks and tunics) with them to the set, putting them within reach but not within camera-angle. Both of them have a great deal of trouble maintaining their serious demeanors demanded by the scene, but they're professionals, so they manage... with the occasional smirk or eyebrow waggle at each other in between scenes. Of course, the rest of the cast is so used to it, they have no idea what Viggo and Sean are planning, and figure it's just more of their non-verbal communication, usually involving sex.
They are about to have those ideas rudely shattered.
As PJ calls "Cut" on the final scene for the day, Viggo and Sean spring for their weapons. Before anyone can run, they've shot all four hobbits, and both elves--twice each, perfectly centered just above their hearts.
"Remember," says Viggo gravely, "revenge..."
"...is a dish best served cold, and as publicly as possible," finishes Sean.
They spin their guns, blow "smoke" from the barrels, and holster them with a quiet "snick". Their victims are still gobsmacked and staring, silent--a silence which is broken by Ian's loud chuckle, and PJ's guffaw. "I always did enjoy a little bit of cowboy justice," says Ian, and winks at the two men.
Grinning madly, they salute the others, and turn to swagger their way into the sunset—whistling the theme to Bonanza as they leave.