nosselinfea (nosselinfea) wrote in urbanasylum, @ 2008-01-22 21:36:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fic, karl, orlando, viggo |
Fic: That Green Suit (KU/VM/OB)
Author: nosselinfea
Rating: PG-ish. Some mild swearing, no sexual content (although slash m/m relationships implied).
Characters: Karl Urban, Viggo Mortensen, Orlando Bloom
Summary: Viggo has been nominated for an Oscar, and he needs something to wear for the event so Karl and Orlando take him shopping, with predictably - unpredictable - results. (Note: I wrote this last year when History of Violence was up for a nomination but today they announced that Viggo is also up for a nomination for Eastern Promises, so I'm dusting it off again). The fic was originally inspired by this photograph.
Karl padded barefoot from the kitchen, bowl of crunchy-nut cornflakes in one hand and a copy of the LA Times in the other. He sat down on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table and chuckled through a mouthful of cornflakes, giving a brief protest when Viggo snatched at the paper to take the sports pages and check on the previous day's hockey results.
"Hey, hey!" Karl gave Viggo a brief poke, retrieving the rest of the newspaper and stabbing with his finger at the movie reviews. "Look at this, look at this," he said, excitement in his voice. "They're saying you could get an Oscar nomination for History of Violence."
Viggo looked at Karl, his face full of genuine surprise. "Really?"
"Mmmhmm." The younger man paused to eat a few mouthfuls of his breakfast. "You know what this means, don’t you, Vig? You'll have to get a new suit."
"Nonsense. I have a wardrobe full of perfectly good suits. I can wear the green one. I like the green one."
Karl almost choked on his cornflakes. "Viggo, you can't wear that old thing for the Oscars."
"Why not?"
Karl rolled his eyes. "Because... because it's old. Because you bought it in a charity shop. Because it's green, for fuck's sake."
Viggo gave a quiet giggle, and took the newspaper from Karl's hands, to read the review in more detail. "You can talk, mister fashion-guru," he said. "Like I should take advice from a man who turned up to a Return of the King premiere in jeans and a green cardigan."
Karl bit back a snippy reply and ate some more cornflakes. That incident couldn’t have been helped; he'd been running late after taking Franka to the airport, and the only way he could have got to the premier at all was to go straight there without changing. Viggo already knew that and Karl wasn't about to get into another argument about it. His mind wandered back to the more immediate problem. Viggo had a point; Karl wasn't exactly an expert on designer suits, unless you counted his unerring ability to put on an expensive suit and immediately appear as though he'd slept in it.
But he still looked ten times better than Viggo ever would, in that dreadful green thing. Still, he was going to need expert assistance, and that came in only one form.
------------------------------
"Orlando is taking us shopping?" Viggo repeated, two weeks later. "Why?"
"Because you need a new suit, and I know the oscars aren't for another month but I know what you're like, you'll just keep puttting it off." Karl thrust Viggo's coat into his hands and turned him towards the door. "He's waiting in the car, now come on."
Viggo tried to protest but somehow couldn’t find the words. Though he detested shopping with every fibre of his being, he couldn't pass up the chance of spending the day with his two favourite people. He slid into the back seat beside Orlando, while Karl got into the driving seat and grinned at them both in the rearview mirror.
"You sure you're up for this, Orli? It's going to be quite a challenge."
"I can handle it," Orlando replied with a smile. "Just point me at the mall."
Four hours, six aching feet and two frayed tempers later, they sat drinking coffee in Starbucks. Under the table at their feet was a collection of bags containing new clothes – for Karl and Orlando - and three new books for Viggo. Viggo sat reading one of these books while Karl and Orlando leaned over the table towards each other. Orlando held his head in his hands and gave a melancholy sigh. "It's impossible," he wailed. "Completely impossible. He hates everything he looks at."
"He won't even try", Karl replied. "Did you see the look on that last sales assistan't face?"
Orlando laughed. "Yeah. I think she wanted to kill him."
"I think I want to kill him. What are we going to do, Orli?"
"Give up?" Orlando suggested hopefully. "My feet are killing me."
"Can't give up," Karl moaned. "Otherwise we'll be doing this every spare weekend between now and Oscars night, and he'll STILL have nothing to wear." He gulped at his coffee. "Nope. We have to soldier on and..." His voice trailed as he looked at where Viggo was sitting. The seat was empty. "Where the fuck did he go?"
Orlando shrugged. "Little boy's room?" he suggested. So they waited, five, ten, fifteen minutes, but still Viggo did not return. Orlando went in to look for him, and came back alone, his expression now full of anxiety. "He's not there."
There was a long pause as the two stared at one another, then they both leaped up and dashed out of the Starbucks, back into the mall. They tried the bookshops first, but there was no sign of Viggo in any of them. Then art shops, and still not a trace of him. They raced through the mall looking in nearly every shop, and after another hour they'd still not found any sign of their companion. Karl ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Where is he? What are we going to do?"
Orlando frowned up at Karl. "Back to Starbucks, I suppose. We left our stuff there. Some chav probably nicked it all by now."
Karl sighed and nodded, tried Viggo's number on his cellphone for the fifteenth time, but as always, Viggo's phone was switched off. "He's probably just gone home," he said hopefully. "You know what he's like."
Orlando nodded, and they returned to Starbucks. It was remarkable enough that all their shopping was still there under the table where they'd left it. What surprised them the most though, was seeing Viggo there, sitting exactly where he'd been sat before, still reading his book, as though he'd not moved an inch.
When Karl sat down at the table opposite, Viggo looked up at him, then at Orlando, and back to Karl. "Where did you two disappear to?" he asked, all innocent.
"Looking for you," Karl replied. "Where the hell were you?"
"Here, mostly," Viggo said with a smile. "I popped back to one of the clothes shops to pick up a suit, and then I came back here. Thought I'd better stay, you left all your shopping..."
Karl and Orlando both stared. "Suit? You bought a suit?" Karl's mouth felt dry. "Please, tell me you didn’t get it from a charity shop? Or Walmart? And it's not green?"
Viggo giggled (he always does giggle like a girl, Karl thought to himself) and lifted one more bag onto the table. Orlando raised an eyebrow at the name printed on the side of it. "Versace? That looks promising."
Karl cautiously peeked inside the bag, almost dreading what he would find there. He frowned, lifted out a smart-looking tuxedo jacket. Viggo took it from him and slipped it on over his t-shirt; Karl and Orlando just stared. Orlando gave a little wolf-whistle, and Karl heaved a sigh of relief. "It's black," he said. "Thank God. It's black!"
----------------------------------------
Later, back at the house, Viggo changed into the suit to show Karl and Orlando properly. He'd even remembered to get a nice white shirt to wear with it, and a velvet bow-tie, and Karl had to admit that with his slim figure, he did actually scrub up pretty well.
Orlando had bought some casual clothes, nothing fancy, but then, Orlando was the sort of person that could, if he chose, buy his clothes from a charity shop and still look a million dollars in them. He modelled them one at a time, walking up and down the room like it was a catwalk, while Karl and Viggo sipped their beers and wolf-whistled him.
"Your turn now," Viggo said to Karl, nuzzling him gently, when Orlando had finished. "Show us what you bought."
Karl nodded, reached for the bag and pulled out his own catch, a rather nice casual summer-weight suit he'd found on a sale rack in the Armani store. Real silk, and though it was off-season for a lightweight suit it would be perfect for going back down-under for Christmas. He'd got it only halfway out of the bag when he was assailed by hoots of laughter, catcalls and hurled cushions from Viggo and Orlando.
"What?" Karl said. "What?"
Viggo was laughing uncontrollably, and it was a good five minutes before he could even speak. "It's... it's... green!"