Christmas Traditions
by
Bluespirit

Fandom: Lord of the Rings RPS
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando
Rating: R
Summary: Dreams can come true….
Word count: 2 412

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The author is not making any claims as to the real life sexualities or preferences of the people portrayed here. This is purely for entertainment, not profit.

Notes:
1. This story was written as a part of the 2004 VigOrli Secret Santa challenge.
2. A big thank you to my wonderful beta Xanthe for all of her hard work.

~ December 25th 1999 ~

Orlando floated up into consciousness, a feeling of complete and utter contentment wrapping around him like a blanket of warmth and bliss. Much like the soft blankets currently cocooning him and…the strong arms wrapped around his waist, holding him snugly against a sturdy chest.

Orlando's eyes shot open and then he relaxed as he remembered where, and more importantly, *who* he was with.

Viggo…he was with Viggo.

He smiled as his eyes drifted shut once more and he snuggled back into the warm, comforting press of the slumbering body behind him. He sighed, a quiet, happy sound and remembered the day before….

~

They'd arranged to spend Christmas together - Elijah, Billy, Dom, Viggo and himself. The other members of the Fellowship were all flying home to see family and so the rest of them had thought that it would be fun to spend the short holiday break together and they'd rented a cabin on the slopes of Mount Cook.

Viggo had only joined the cast a couple of months before but Orlando had felt an immediate affinity with the man. Obviously he was extremely good looking - especially in his guise as the rugged, brooding Aragorn - but it was more than that, more than simple attraction. As he'd started to get to know Viggo he'd realised what a complex and fascinating man he actually was. On one hand Viggo was the consummate professional - a dedicated method actor intent on giving the best performance possible - and yet on the other he was an out and out clown with a wicked, dry sense of humour, eager to join in pranks or to tackle friends to the ground for an impromptu bit of wrestling. Then there was the man beneath all of that - the beautiful, intense, almost fragile soul that Orlando had only caught glimpses of, yet hungered to see more. He'd heard that Viggo was a poet and an artist, and he recognised that part of the man in brief flashes - at quieter times when the world almost seemed too much and Viggo withdrew from reality a little, visibly losing himself in his words or paint. He would sit, within the group yet curiously apart, and scribble a few lines or seemingly random words on the nearest handy surface - the back of a call sheet, a napkin, even his hand. Maybe that was why he was so keen to see life through a camera lens - or was it a barrier to keep from being bruised by a world that he seemed to care about almost too passionately? There was something about this man that just called out to Orlando - like he'd found something in Viggo that drew him close - something that he hadn't even known that he'd been looking for. Viggo's intensity seemed to strike a spark of recognition - Orlando's own passions flaring to light in his presence. It was like a missing piece finally finding a match, a place where it belonged, where *he* belonged.

So many echoes of one fascinating, gentle man - Orlando had been bewitched before he'd even had time to realise it. He'd been overcome and awed by Viggo's skill, not just with respect to acting but also in every aspect of his life and character. He'd begun to regard him almost as a mentor - Viggo just made him want to be a better person. And yet there was even more to it than that - he simply felt more alive, more in tune with life whenever Viggo was near. That was why he'd jumped at the chance to spend more time with him away from the hectic schedule of the set for a few days - even if it was in the company of three raucous Hobbits!

The plan had been to drive to the cabin on Christmas Eve, Viggo and Orlando in one car and the others following in another. This had quickly been scuppered when their little convoy had called by to pick up Dominic, only to find - when he'd finally appeared, yawning on his doorstep in Manchester United pyjamas - that he'd overslept. After much piss taking and general hilarity it had been decided that Viggo and Orlando would carry on and the Hobbits would follow as soon as they were ready.

Orlando had relished the time alone with Viggo. The miles had blurred as they'd talked their journey away, driving through wide open spaces towards the golden foothills of the mighty Southern Alps, the snow-capped peak of Mount Cook piercing the sky above them. Viggo was such an insightful, caring person and his fire and drive where inspirational. Orlando had found himself ever more captivated, accepting that his hero-worship was evolving into something else - though he hadn't wanted to think of the words 'falling in love' quite yet.

As they had neared their destination, just passing the shimmering glacial waters of Lake Tekapo, the snow had started to fall. Huge, white flakes - almost the size of Orlando's palm - bore down on them, quickly covering everything with an ever-deepening layer of snow. By the time that Viggo had managed to carefully manoeuvre the car up the narrow, twisting track to their cabin, drifts were banking up - several feet high in places - and the car's wheels had been spinning fruitlessly on more than one occasion. They'd both just turned and looked at each other when they'd finally made it to the door, grins and sighs of relief frosting the air between them.

The local radio had called it a freak blizzard - the unexpected and unseasonal snowstorm blocking roads and cutting off some areas at higher altitudes. It was forecast that the cold snap would last a few days before the thaw set in and the roads were free again. So they hadn't been too surprised to receive a barely distinguishable, crackly phone call from the Hobbits. The road had been blocked and they'd had to turn back - there was no way that they could make it up to the cabin. With a jovial, parting, 'Merry Christmas, you cunts!' the line had gone dead.

So Orlando had received an early and completely unexpected Christmas present - he'd found himself cut off from the world in a warm, well stocked, comfortable cabin…alone with Viggo Mortensen.

~

Behind him, Viggo made a breathy, soft sound as he slept and Orlando smiled. Turning slowly, careful not to wake Viggo or to disturb their embrace, Orlando snuggled closer and gazed at the beautiful, slumbering face before him. He couldn't quite believe it, that he was here - lying in Viggo's arms. Last night had been like a dream….

~

They'd unloaded the car and quickly stashed their food supplies away in the already well-appointed kitchen. The cabin was much more luxurious than either of them had expected, no doubt due to the fact that Billy had made the booking, muttering something about 'we'll end up sleeping in a bloody tree' if Viggo had been left in charge.

It had still been snowing but Viggo, grabbing his camera, had suggested that they go outside and take a look around. It had looked cold out and Orlando hadn't really wanted to go but he had wanted to be with Viggo - to experience their curiously white and silent world through Viggo's eyes.

And it had been cold; their words freezing like cursive script in the air and the only other sound that of the crunch of fresh snow underfoot. But Orlando had forgotten the cold and discomfort as they'd explored the tree line close to the cabin. He had listened to Viggo's thoughts and impressions and it had seemed to crystallise so many emotions that Orlando was unable to voice for himself. It had been an incredible experience and Viggo's intensity and imagination had drawn him ever closer, hanging onto every word and eager for the next.

The snow had begun to fall faster as the day grew short and Orlando had felt flakes sticking to his eyelashes and skin. They had brushed against the coldness of his lips and then suddenly his lips hadn't been cold anymore - they'd been warm, warmer than he could ever remember...

Viggo had kissed him….

~

"Merry Christmas, Orli."

Viggo's sleep roughened voice broke through Orlando's daydreaming and he looked up to see a small, almost tentative smile playing around soft, sweet lips.

"Merry Christmas, Vig," Orlando whispered, a broad smile lighting his face. He pressed his mouth to Viggo's, wanting to communicate his happiness through the simple touch. He sighed as Viggo deepened the kiss and opened his mouth to an exploring tongue, his own dancing with it joyfully.

Viggo slowly pulled away, his lips settling against Orlando's temple. "What were you thinking…before…when I woke up?" He spoke softly, a dark purr that slid across Orlando's skin, raising goose bumps along its path.

Orlando snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around Viggo's back, the strong muscles warm and solid beneath his stroking palms. "Just thinking about yesterday. When you kissed me…why did you do that?"

The solitary, snowy kiss had quickly lead to more, with them stumbling into the house, unwilling to let go for longer than it took to discard their clothes. And then they had made love, stretching out on the deep, soft hearth rug, the huge log fire crackling merrily and bathing them in warmth and light.

It had been amazing…beyond that even, Orlando had never felt so emotionally connected to anyone before in his life. As Viggo had touched and kissed him, he hadn't been able to shake a sense of finally coming home, that being in Viggo's arms - sharing his body and his heart with this man - was exactly where he was supposed to be. There'd been no time, or need, to ask questions. The 'why' had been inconsequential - it had been enough to take Viggo into his body in the ultimate joining, their cries of passion mingling and turning to whispers of love.

But now, in the morning light, Orlando wondered…what had made Viggo kiss him like that?

Viggo stared at Orlando for a long time, his clear blue gaze never wavering. "Because I looked at you, standing there in the brilliant whiteness and you were like the snow…like a single flake…unique and perfect and…beautiful. I couldn't not kiss you…I don't think that I can ever not kiss you."

Orlando felt his eyes prickle with heat.

"Please, Vig…. Just kiss me, always kiss me."

~~

~December 22nd 2009~

"Have you seen my passport, Vig? I can't find it anywhere!" Orlando shouted up the stairs as he hurriedly checked through his carry-on bag, still not finding the recalcitrant passport. They were due to fly to New Zealand that afternoon and he knew that he'd be going nowhere fast if he couldn't find it.

It had become something of a special Christmas tradition for them - every year since they'd got together, he and Viggo had rented the same cabin on the slopes of Mount Cook and had celebrated Christmas and their anniversary in New Zealand. Some years they'd been joined by family and friends, all of the Fellowship attending at one time or another, but this year it was just the two of them. It was their tenth anniversary and they'd wanted to be alone - just them, their love and the wide New Zealand sky. Who knew? It might even snow again and they could make love in front of the roaring log fire, languidly kissing their way through the holiday.

"Have you checked on the kitchen table?" Viggo's voice floated down from the bedroom, where he was packing the last of their things.

"Okay - thanks, babe!"

Orlando walked into the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked muffins still sweet in the air. His passport was sitting on the scarred wooden tabletop and by it was a large envelope, propped up against Orlando's coffee mug, his name written in Viggo's distinctive and idiosyncratic hand. Curious, he opened the plain white envelope and took out a sheaf of official looking papers. As he began to read them, Orlando felt a soft kiss to his neck and strong arms pulled him back against a warm, broad chest.

"Hey, baby." Viggo's growl was low and soft in his ear.

Orlando looked at the papers in his hand, dumbfounded. They looked like…but they couldn't be, could they? "Vig?" He asked, turning within Viggo's embrace and throwing his arms around his neck. "Are these deeds? To the cabin? You *bought* the cabin?!" He knew that his eyes were the size of saucers and that he had a wide, soppy smile on his face but he didn't care.

Smiling in return, Viggo nodded. "*We* bought it - it's *our* cabin now."

Viggo had bought it - for them; there were their names side by side on the deeds. He'd bought the cabin, the place where they'd first admitted their feelings - their special place - the place where they'd first made love….

Orlando felt his eyes grow hot; he was crying *again* but damn, how could he not when he had the most beautiful, perfect, downright romantic partner in the whole bloody world?

"Merry Christmas, baby," Viggo murmured, pulling him closer.

Orlando looked up into those intense blue eyes, into the face of the man that he'd spent ten years loving and who he intended to love forever more. Yeah, it was a merry Christmas, wasn't it?

"Merry Christmas, Vig."



The end

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