Challenge Fic: Five Minutes Longer.

[tarnished-raven.livejournal.com]

Title: Five Minutes Longer.
Author: Raven
Email: tarnishedraven at gmail dot com
Rated: Adult
Characters: Sean Bean/Orlando Bloom
Chapter: One
Disclaimer: The characters in this story have the same names as certain well-known actors. The descriptions sound like them. The icons have their faces on them. But they are characters in a story and this story is of the genre known as fan-fiction. It comes from my imagination, nowhere else.

Notes: Written for challenges issued at [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]

Challenge:
1] Challenge by angiepen
"Courage is the complement of fear. A man who is fearless cannot be courageous. (He is also a fool.)" Robert Heinlein.
2] Challenge by [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Orlando/Sean. Orlando's back injury takes an unexpected turn for the worse and he ends up in a wheel chair. He pushes his friends away.





Five Minutes Longer.
[A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)]

~

"So, Bean, you heard about 'Lando, right?"

"Well yeah, Eric. I am a member of the human race, ya know. Not likely I'd have missed hearing about it."

"Uh-huh. Well, anyway…"

Eric started waffling on about something Sean wasn't really paying attention to and he tuned out, flipping through the papers on the desk in search of his itinerary while listening with only half an ear.

"… thought you might."

"Thought I might what?"

"Weren't you listening? No, of course you weren't. You sure you're a member of the human race, Bean? 'Cause you're certainly not acting like it. I said, that 'Lando's refusing to talk to anyone, see anyone, but I think he might see you. Even if he says no, you're not the sort to take that for an answer. So…?"

Sean shook his head in an effort to focus. "What makes you think he'd see me? and what do you mean, I won't take no for an answer?!" he asked. "Surely he'd be more comfortable with Elijah or Dom or someone?"

Eric sighed. "You really weren't listening, were you? Sean, take a moment here and concentrate, alright? You're Orlando's hero. If anyone can get a foot in the door, you can. You can be very, err, determined."

Sean snorted in surprise. "His hero? Really?" he said sarcastically. "Where'd you get that daft idea?"

"Oh God save me from clueless Pommies!" Eric was starting to sound exasperated. "He's English. You're English. He watched you on telly growing up! You're one of the reasons he got interested in acting in the first place! C'mon! You can't tell me he never told you any of this?!" When Eric was in full flight, his Aussie drawl became really pronounced. "He's a fan, Bean, though fuck knows why, you cold bastard! Just take my bloody word for it will you? This call is costing me a fortune already, can we just cut to the chase?"

"You can afford it." Sean raked his fingers through his overlong hair, pushing the spill of blond fringe back from his forehead. Cold bastard, eh? Well, probably. But still, why was Orlando supposed to be his problem? "Alright." he conceded, mainly to Eric off the phone. "I'll drop by."

"Every day for three weeks." Eric stated firmly. "Every day, Sean. I'll be in London by then. He needs his friends around while he waits this out."

"What? What three weeks?"

The soft buzz of a disconnected line was the only response. Sean pulled the phone away from his ear and gave it a disgusted look. Either Eric had been cut off, or he'd hung up on purpose. It was hard to tell with Eric, he could be a sneaky prick when he wanted. He considered redial but decided against it.

Replacing the handset on the cradle, he resumed his hunt for his itinerary but his heart was no longer in it, his thoughts constantly distracted by the conversation he'd just had. Picking up his mug of tea, he wandered across to the window instead and stood looking out over his garden while he finished it.

He'd sent Orlando a card and flowers when he'd wound up in the hospital after hurting his back again. Got a nice thank you note in return. Why the hell did Eric think Orlando needed babysitting and why was he supposed to do it? Sure, he was a father, but Orlando wasn't his kid! He sighed and put the empty mug down on the nearest flat surface.

All this caring and sharing shit of the modern age was wearing on the nerves. He'd worked with Orlando a grand total of twice and they'd got along fine. But where was it written that getting paid to act alongside someone and being friendly while working translated into a lifetime commitment to friendship, fer chrissakes!

But Eric was his friend and he'd promised, albeit reluctantly. So he'd drop in on Orlando and say hello, confirm that he was alright and that Eric was just mother-henning again and then leave the poor bugger alone. No harm, no foul, right? And then he, Sean, could get back to his nice, miserable, cold-bastard life. Great. Good.


~


"I'm off." Mrs. Collins poked her head in the living room door, her scarf already secured over her hair. "You need anything?"

Orlando shook his head. "No, thanks." he managed to smile through his frustration. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

He listened as she shuffled away, her footsteps disappearing toward the front of the house and then turned his attention to what he'd been trying to do before. He was attempting a three-point-turn in the cramped space between the couches and not having much luck. Maybe he should have let the resources people rearrange the living area to give him more space, but he liked it the way it was!

Rolling forward, his footplate banged into the end of the coffee table, the vibration thrilling up his spine and making him wince. It wasn't as bad as it had been when he first injured his back again, but it still hurt. Leaning down, he rubbed his foot, still finding it strange that he could feel his feet and legs. He'd always thought of people in wheelchairs as being paralyzed, yet he wasn't. His spine was damaged, badly swollen, but he still had feeling, despite the nerve damage. If he really wanted to, he could stand up and walk and his legs and spine might even hold him, but the possible consequences of doing something so monumentally stupid had been explained to him in no uncertain terms and he wasn't about to try it.

So he was stuck in the chair until the swelling went down and the picture was clearer, his doctor said. That 'the picture' might be bad and his re-injured spine too weakened to ever trust his weight to again, he wouldn't think about.

He straightened up, grabbed the wheels, and tried again. This time, he got a finger caught in the spokes and cursed his clumsiness aloud. "Fuck! Fuck! Shit!"

"Such language! I should wash yer mouth out with soap!" a voice drawled from the doorway.

Orlando's head snapped around as he sucked on the abused digit. "Shun!" he pulled his finger out so he could speak. "Sean! What are you doing here?"

Sean took a couple of steps into the room, a hand stuffed into the pocket of his cargo pants. He shrugged. "Yer cleaning lady let me in." he said. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in and say hello."

Orlando's eyes narrowed as he wondered briefly if Sean had been sent by the 'Looking Out For Orlando Committee'. But Sean wasn't a member, nor was he the rampantly sociable sort, so he was probably telling the truth about just deciding to drop in. Probably. Because he and Sean weren't exactly what he'd call close friends.

"Hello." Orlando greeted finally.

Grinning, Sean scratched the back of his head. "Oh and I'm supposed to turn around and go now, that it?" he chuckled. "Now the niceties are over? Sorry, I expect a cup of tea first. I'm parched."

"Just in the neighborhood?" Orlando asked suspiciously, just to be sure.

"Yeah. On my way back from a meeting and I realized I was close, so I drove over. Doesn't matter, does it? I mean, I can go…?" Sean offered.

"No, jeez, Sean!" Orlando jumped in quickly, belatedly realizing how rude he must have seemed. "Not trying to get rid of you, honest! I was just checking. Make sure you weren't… sent." As he spoke, he was trying to discreetly maneuver the chair around the end of the coffee table, his final obstacle, but he wasn't having much luck.

Sean stuck his foot out and gave the coffee table a casual shove out of the way. "Sent?" he enquired. "You mean by the hobbit pile or something?"

"Or something." Orlando sailed by, released at last and headed through the arch to the kitchen. "They're convinced I'm lonely and depressed." He found the kettle to be already filled by Mrs. Collins and reached up to switch it on. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten again to leave the tea things within reach. He hid a sigh.

The blond head appeared in the doorway and he leaned against the jamb. "Not me." he said cheerfully. "Eric mentioned you when we were talking last week." Noticing the direction of Orlando's gaze, Sean came around the corner and pushed the tea tray close enough for Orlando to reach and then stepped back out of the way.

"Eric!" Orlando bristled. "They've co-opted Eric!?"

"Doubtful." Sean got the milk out of the fridge. "I think he's freelancing." He handed Orlando the carton.

"So you weren't just passing." Orlando accused.

"Yeah, I was." Sean sounded slightly miffed at having his honesty called into question. "Like I said, I was at a meeting. Eric put the thought into my head, but I'm just saying hi, not following orders."

"Oh." Orlando ducked his head, embarrassed, as he laid the tea tray on his lap. "Sorry."

"So you should be." Sean chided, following along behind Orlando as he wheeled back into the living room. "Thinking that I would stoop so low as to drop in on an old friend who was feeling poorly. How dare you!" he dropped into the seat opposite where Orlando had pulled up and glared at him.

"Okay. Okay." Orlando grinned. "I get the point." He slid the tray onto the coffee table.

"Uh-huh. Not to mention thinking me so weak that I'd cave into the strident demands of an overly-large Australian. I should hit you with my rolled up newspaper!" Sean polished off his rant, po-faced.

"Thank you, Sean." Orlando exaggerated each word. "I'm sorry Sean."

"Better." Sean reached across and helped himself to tea and a biscuit, leaving Orlando to fend for himself. "So?" he said after a taking his first sip. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Lonely and depressed." The biscuit was good; Sean helped himself to another.

One thing Orlando had always liked about Sean was how plainspoken he was. Oh, he could be subtle and diplomatic with the best of them, talk rings around you and flatter like a pro, but most times he didn't bother and Orlando appreciated that. Especially now.

"Sometimes." he said truthfully. "But it's not terminal. Trying to make them believe that though, is impossible."

Sean nodded. "Them being hobbits and Aussies."

"And mothers and sisters and counselors. You name them, they're 'them'." Orlando bit down on a biscuit and wrinkled his nose when he discovered it was lemon custard.

Sean turned the plate around to the raspberry tart side and pushed it closer to Orlando. "I know the feeling." he sympathized. "I am an antisocial old git. Or so I'm led to believe."

It was Orlando's turn to nod. He'd heard both Hobbit and Antipodean discourses on the subject of Sean's 'loneliness'. It used to bother him, too, how Sean could be friendly on set, hang out and drink beers, be one of the boys, yet simply vanish from the scene when the mood took him. To start with, he'd attributed it to the divorce he'd been going through at the time, but it'd been the same filming Troy and since, when there were get-togethers he cried off on and not always because of work. Now he was feeling like he didn't want to be surrounded by a group of well-meaning but basically ill-equipped friends and he was beginning to understand how Sean felt.

"Yeah, you are." he agreed amiably.

Sean's eyes narrowed to slits, sparks of green firing out through his lashes. "So?" he drawled. "How are you coping?" He crossed one elegantly shod foot over the other and leaned back with his arm draped along the rear of the chair.

"Emotionally or practically?" Orlando shot back.

"Practically. I'll leave your emotional state for some other poor bugger, thanks."

Orlando shrugged. "It's… tricky." he admitted. "I wouldn't let them modify the house much, seemed like a waste of effort, so it gets a bit frustrating at times, trying to get around in this thing. But mostly it's good."

A waste of effort or too much like premature admission of defeat? He glanced about the room. Orlando's London flat was open-plan so it was easy to look it over. He pointed toward the steps at the rear of the living room. "Isn't your bedroom up there?"

"Someone comes over at night and helps me." Orlando said shortly, his face turning slightly pink. "And back in the morning."

Sean eyed the steps critically. "Yeah, it's a bit steep. A ramp would take up half the living room." He looked back at Orlando, ignoring his embarrassment. "Must be a pain in the arse? Having some… what? Male nurse, coming in and out?"

"Male nurse." Orlando confirmed. "Wouldn't be so bad if it was the same one every time, but the agency we booked didn't have anyone regular available."

"You don't worry about one of 'em selling stuff? Your story, photos, whatever?"

"'Course I do. But there's not much I can do about it now, is there?"

"No need to get snippy." Sean told Orlando. The idea had been percolating in the back of his mind since he'd laid eyes on the steps. He could kill several birds with one stone here if he played it right. Get Eric to back off on both of them, ditto for the hobbit crew and everyone the hell else who seemed to think both he and Orlando needed looking out for. It was only for a couple of weeks. Wouldn't kill him. "If you ask me nice," he said. "I'll let you come stay with me."

"With you?!" Orlando's mouth dropped open. "Why?" He was more astonished than anything else. Thoughts of being coddled and of unwanted sympathy didn't even enter his mind, not when it was Sean offering!

Sean polished off his tea. "No stairs, of course." he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And my place is bigger. Plenty of room to do wheelies." he grinned. "Though if I catch you doing them on the parquetry, you're dead meat."

"I… Okay, but why?" Orlando simply couldn't get his head around the idea that Sean was making this kind of offer.

Shrugging casually, Sean laid it out. "We rub along together alright." he said. "My place is big enough. And," he gave Orlando a sly look. "think how happy it will make Eric, your family and every-bloody-body else, eh?"

Orlando pursed his lips, thought it through. "Gets them off your back as well." he said.

"Of course. I'm self-serving as well as antisocial." Sean nodded. "Fancy it?"

"Oh yeah." Orlando smirked. "You bet."


~

[tbc]