| Title: Fractured Authors: Jo & Brenda Pairing: Karl Urban/Orlando Bloom Rating: NC17 Summary: Need finally outweighs consequence Disclaimer: Um...no. And, um...no. Never happened. Author's Notes: Yes, Brenda is evil. Jo loves her anyway. Inspired in part, by Cas' wonderful "Where We Are" fic series & a discussion about different OTPs with Lobelia from a long time back.
"Yeah," Viggo laughed. "I was thinking the four of us could grab some lunch." "Sounds good to me." Harry pulled his bag out, started towards the front door. God, it felt good to be back home. Even if it had been only one night away. "So, where'd you head off to?" Viggo asked, as they walked through the door. "Flew to Sydney for the day. Press conference for 'Price'." Harry dropped his bag on the foyer floor, glanced around. "Karl?" "In the kitchen!" Sounded a bit strained...odd that. "Come on." Harry motioned for Viggo to follow him, then strolled into the kitchen. "Hey you," Karl said, not moving from where he leaned against the counter. That was odd. More than, actually. Karl always greeted him with a kiss when he'd been gone. "Hey, Harry, Vig," Orlando said, voice soft, eyes on the kitchen table as he sat there, hands clenched together in front of him. "You two have fun?" Viggo was glancing back and forth between Karl and Orlando, smile a bit awkward as he placed a kiss on Orlando's head. Frowned when Orlando flinched...slight, but there. Blood started chilling in Harry's veins. Something was very wrong. "Yeah," Karl mumbled, shrugged. "Much fun as two blokes can have staying home on their night off." "Karl?" Harry stepped closer, watched as Karl looked at him, but never met his eyes. Ice crept up his spine as he realized that Karl's eyes kept moving back to Orlando. "So how'd the shooting go, Vig?" Karl slid down the counter, towards Harry, eyes fastening on Viggo. "It was good. Long." Viggo glanced helplessly at Harry as he sank into the chair next to Orlando. Harry shook his head slightly. He had no idea. "How're the guys?" Orlando mumbled, gaze darting at Viggo before resting on Karl for a brief moment. "Good. Send their love." Viggo was peering closely at Orlando's neck, and Harry stepped in for a look. "Quite a bruise you've got there," he commented. The first faint beginnings of an awful suspicion started weaving through Harry's brain, and he shoved it back ruthlessly. There was no way. It wasn't possible. "What?" Orlando tensed, eyes flickering to Harry's, back down to his lap. "Um..." "Orlando..." Viggo's soft voice was loud in the sudden silence. "...you okay?" "M'fine," Orlando mumbled, shifted restlessly in his chair. His fingers clenched, unclenched, danced on the tabletop. "Looks like something bit you," Harry stated. Not something. Someone. His eyes slid to Karl, took in the wide eyes and pale face. What the hell was going on? He turned back to Orlando, watched dark eyes shift away from Karl. And suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Must've happened last night. In his sleep or something," Karl said, taking a step forward. Right. Last night. Doubtful it was in his sleep, though. Harry squashed that thought. No. Viggo traced a light finger along the bruise, curled his finger along the collar of Orlando's shirt. Harry watched in quiet fascination as Orlando stilled, breath hitched as Viggo revealed another purplish bruise, this one slightly below the first. "Jesus, Orlando..." Viggo's voice was barely a whisper. Orlando licked his lips, blinked slowly, hand poised to cup over Viggo's before pulling back. "I'm sorry." Sorry for what? Karl sucked in his breath, took a step forward, froze when Harry looked at him. His expression... "Harry, I...." "Karl, what the hell is going on here?" More ice up his spine when Karl flinched and Orlando made a soft, distressed sound, felt the slow fracture of his soul. "This isn't..." Viggo shook his head, normally calm features looking achingly vulnerable. "Tell me this isn't..." "I'm so sorry, Vig," Orlando repeated, not looking up from his hands. "Sorry?" Viggo's voice rose slightly. "Fuck your sorry, Orlando. Tell me what's going on." "Don't..." Karl bit off his words, turned away. Harry's eyes took in the stiff spine, moved back to take in Orlando's still bent head. "Don't what, Karl?" Calm. That was it. Just remain calm. There was an explanation for all this. "Don't yell at him." Karl turned back, shoulders slumped a little. He pulled out a chair, sat down across from Orlando. "Harry...I'm sorry." "How long?" "Viggo, don't..." "Don't you fucking dare," Viggo growled, cutting off Orlando's plea. "How fucking long?" Karl ran a hand through his hair, glanced up at Harry before looking at Viggo. "Last night was the first time..." Harry turned away, moved to stand by the window. He wondered why it was so sunny outside. Sunshine that bright was for good days. And this was most assuredly not a good day. "First time?" Harry turned slightly, saw Viggo tilt his head back, glance at the ceiling. Watched in a haze-filled shock as Orlando tried to place his hand over Viggo's, watched as Viggo threw it off, stood. "Don't touch me." "Vig, I..." "Not another word." Viggo's hands were clenched, body wired through with tension. Harry was surprised Viggo wasn't shaking with it. Was surprised he wasn't shaking himself. "Yes, first time," Karl repeated, rising halfway from his chair. "Nothing happened between us before last night. Well, nothing much." Harry turned at the last, mumbled words. Nothing much? Instead of saying anything, he just stood there, hands loose by his sides, eyes moving between Karl and Orlando. Nothing much. But something. Oh, yes...definitely something. "Nothing much?" Harry was startled by his own voice. "Define 'nothing much', please." "I..." Karl trailed off, slowly sank back into his chair. Harry watched as one hand twitched on the table. "Couple kisses here and there." "I can't fucking believe we're having this conversation." Viggo whirled around, eyes pinning Karl to his chair. "We're defining cheating in degrees now?" "It wasn't like that..." Viggo never took his gaze off of Karl. But the temperature in the room dropped again. "Orlando...don't talk." "Stop yelling at him." Karl's voice was quiet, his body tense as he sat there watching Viggo. So protective of Orlando. Harry wondered about that, wondered when it would hurt, was surprised that it didn't already. Or maybe it did and he just couldn't feel it through the ice. "How long?" Karl's head snapped around at Harry's soft question. "What?" "How long has 'nothing much' been going on?" Harry never moved, never looked away from his lover's...ha, his lover...eyes. So he wasn't surprised to see the guilt flash through the hazel depths. "About a year," Karl replied, voice so low Harry almost had to strain to hear him. "A year? But that would mean..." "Yeah. That would mean." Orlando didn't look up from his hands as he answered Viggo's question. "Jesus." Viggo sounded incredulous. "The first day you met, I guess? What, eyes meeting across a crowded room and all of that bullshit?" Each sharply delivered word had Orlando flinching, Harry's blood thinning. "Why?" Harry asked, waited patiently for an answer he wasn't sure he wanted to hear. Karl sighed, dropped his head a bit. He didn't ask for an explanation, and Harry didn't offer one. He didn't have to. Karl knew exactly what he meant. "Because I couldn't not do it. We fought it for a year, and..." Viggo slammed his hands down on the table, face inches from Karl's. "And it didn't occur to either one of you to end things with us before you fucked each other? You selfish, stupid son of a bitch." And Harry didn't even have enough feeling left to be shocked when Viggo reared back, and his fist connected with Karl's jaw. |