"Sean!" Viggo grinned and stood as his friend entered the bar.

Sean walked across the crowded floor of Blackie's and into Viggo's boisterous embrace. A few patrons looked over at the two exceptionally handsome blonde men, but Blackie's was not the sort of place where people stared. If the two actors were recognized, no sign was given, beyond the discreet increase of moisture in the females and one out of seven of the males present.

"It's great that you could meet me," Viggo said, as a waiter appeared at his elbow.

"Any opportunity to see you is one not to be missed," Sean said as he slid into the booth.

"What can I get for you gentlemen?" the waiter asked.

"Glenmorangie," Sean said without hesitation. "And whatever beer my friend is drinking."

"One Scotch and two black and tan," the young man said. "I'll be right back."

"I saw History of Violence," Sean said as soon as the waiter was gone. "Blew me away, mate."

"So you said on the phone," Viggo smiled. "But I'm happy to hear it again. How was it working with Jody Foster?"

"She's fucking brill," Sean said. "Scary smart. Really sweet, though. At least, she was to me. I got to wear a pilot's uniform. That was cool."

"It surely is," Viggo agreed. "I haven't seen Flight Plan yet."

Sean shrugged. "It's entertaining," he said. "Much like National Treasure. It's no History of Violence though. You're just … deeper than I am."

"Wouldn't you like to know," Viggo smirked.

The waiter set their drinks down with a bowl of mixed nuts and quietly withdrew.

"So … how was it?" Sean asked. "The panel thing. Lincoln Center, right? That's a pretty posh sort of place, isn't it? Ballet and all that?"

"Well, it is the home of the New York City Ballet and the Metropolitan Opera House," Viggo said. "Yeah, it is kinda poshy, I guess."

Sean laughed, his green eyes becoming half moons above his lofty cheekbones. "Posh, not poshy. That's not even a word, you twit."

Viggo put his hand over Sean's resting on the tabletop. "I've missed you, pard," he said.

Sean pulled his hand away, not too quickly, but quickly enough that Viggo's smile faded. Neither mentioned the awkwardness as Sean lifted his drink and drained two fingers of single malt in one swallow.

"Were they there?" Sean asked as he set the glass down.

Viggo lifted his eyebrows.

"You know very well whom I'm speaking of," Sean said. "Your favorite stalkers."

"I've never called them that," Viggo protested.

"So you do know who I'm talking about."

Viggo blushed. "I feel silly being so pleased about it," he said. "But I can't deny that it does thrill me to think that these ladies would travel so far to see little ole me."

Sean snorted. "You know you love it, mate. Did they take pictures this time?"

Viggo's color deepened ever farther. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I tried not to notice the cameras, but I might've posed for them a few times."

"Might have?" Sean said skeptically. "You're going to check their ljs for the photos, aren't you? Admit it. You know you will."

"Do you know how hard it was to track them down?" Viggo said.

"No, but neither do you; you had your agency do it."

"Yeah, my cover story was genius," Viggo laughed. "The legal department was salivating, thinking they smelled lawsuit money."

"They never asked why you called it off?" Sean asked.

"That's where the eccentric artist image comes in handy," Viggo said.

"So it really doesn't bother you that these ladies take your picture and post it at sites with fiction that depicts you as a raging poof?"

"Why should it?" Viggo said mildly. "It's done with respect, or, at least, affection. I'm just happy that they're creative people doing their own thing without worrying what other people think. I wish there was more of that kind of thing."

"Like David Lynch?" Sean asked wryly.

"You got that right," Viggo said. "History of Violence will probably never make as much money as Flight Plan but …"

"Hey, no need to explain," Sean interrupted. "I was just winding you up a little. They look like very nice women in the photos, and surprisingly good writers."

Viggo cocked an eyebrow.

"I shan't recover from this one, shall I?" Sean asked.

Viggo shook his head. "You actually read the stories about me and …"

"Damn near everybody," Sean grinned, "but mostly Orlando. I started with namarie and willowing, but I couldn't stop once I started."

"You sick bastard," Viggo said facetiously.

"Never denied it," Sean said. "Besides, some of them wrote about me, you know."

Viggo nodded, and then realized he'd been trapped.

"So you read them, too," Sean smirked.

Viggo shrugged. "It's like you said, once you get started, it's hard to stop."

Sean nodded and signaled for another round. After fresh drinks arrived, Sean stopped pushing rejected peanuts around the table and spoke.

"Viggo … you ever have regrets?"

"About what?"

"Certain people … opportunities lost … that sort of thing."

"Look, if this is about Orlando again …"

"No, it's not about Orlando," Sean said. "I think we both know that lad has a lot to clear from his plate before he has room for love."

"He seems to be proving it on an almost daily basis, if you can believe the press."

Both men looked up at the same time. Their eyes met and they shared a rueful smile at the veracity of tabloids.

"Even if you can't believe the copy, there are an awful lot of photos of Orli with assorted stunning young women," Sean said.

Viggo nodded. "I told you his infatuation with me was just that. It was hero worship, if I may be so vain. I'm not even sure he's really gay."

Sean snorted again. "You slept together," he said. "Of course Orlando's gay, or bi, if you like, but he's certainly not straight."

"I think he's a chameleon," Viggo said softly. "But let's not talk about old love affairs."

"Shall we talk about new ones, then?"

"Are you seeing someone?"

Sean shook his head. "You?"

"Not really, no. Couple of real losers, aren't we?"

"I've got a regret," Sean said abruptly.

"I'm all ears."

"Not here," Sean said. "Come with me to the car park."

Viggo stood and shrugged into his jacket. "All right," he said. "But if Orlando's waiting out there in a limo wearing nothing but an apologetic look, I swear I'll never trust you again."

"That actually hurt," Sean said, holding the door open. "I'm through playing go-between."

"Glad to hear it," Viggo said. "Pardon me for saying it, but you spent way too much time worried about Orlando's love life. I think yours might have suffered for it."

"Here's my rental," Sean said, leaning against a maroon Monte Carlo. "And yeah, I guess my love life has suffered. I guess I don't have any follow-through."

Viggo laughed. "You sound like a high school coach. Stop stalling and say what you came here to say."

"I know why my marriages keep failing," Sean said. "And, incidentally, why I was so concerned with Orli's love life."

"Oh my God," Viggo said. "You're in love with Orlando?"

Sean rolled his eyes. "If I was in love with Orlando, I'd be telling him right now."

"Sorry," Viggo said. "I'll stop interrupting. Go ahead."

"Do you really not know what I'm going to say?"

Viggo frowned his non-comprehension.

"I should've had one more Scotch," Sean muttered. "I don't know why this should be so hard. We're good friends; that won't change because of a few words."

"You're killing me," Viggo said. "Spit it out."

"All right then, I realized that it was you that I loved."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"This is going well," Sean said. "No I'm not kidding. I'm absolutely serious."

"Holy shit!"

Sean sighed. "And I was afraid you'd laugh."

"Hold on," Viggo said. "I'm just stunned. Gimme a minute to recover."

"I hear minutes are shorter in New York."

"Do I get to think about this at all?"

"Sorry. Would you like to talk about it?"

"Yeah, later. First, let's make a practical test. As honest as I like to think I've been with you, pard, there are things I haven't told you."

"Such as?"

Viggo smiled. "Well, I lied when I told you I didn't feel a physical attraction to you. I'm sorry, but I didn't want you to ever feel uncomfortable with me. How about you?"

"What?"

"Any physical attraction?"

"Well, yeah," Sean said self-consciously. "I think so."

"We might as well do it," Viggo said. "And find out for sure."

"I … I," Sean stuttered. "I checked out of my room already and …"

"Settle down, stud," Viggo said. "I'm not talking about jumping into the sack. How about a kiss?"

Sean visibly relaxed. "Here? Now?" he asked.

Viggo looked around. "The coast is clear," he said lightly.

Sean looked into Viggo's eyes for a long moment, and then he pushed away from the sleek fender of the car. Slipping an arm around Viggo's waist and one around his shoulders, Sean pulled the other man into an embrace. Viggo wrapped his arms around Sean and leaned into the hug, bring his lips within inches of Sean's.

"Hey, Vig," Sean said.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think we have to worry about that physical attraction thing."

"So I feel," Viggo said, pressing his groin more firmly to Sean's.

Sean had a split second of misgiving as he focused on Viggo's tempting lips. Just do it, his heart urged; pretend it's a scene and just kiss him.

Tilting his head to the side, Sean took Viggo's mouth gently, moving his lips softly over the other man's. Viggo responded, letting his tongue trace the seam of Sean's lips. Sean opened to Viggo and the kiss combusted into a hungry contest for dominance.

"Strike me pink!" Sean breathed when their lips parted. "I'm on fire, mate."

Viggo rubbed his arousal against Sean's. "I know just how you feel," he said.

"Want to change your mind vis-à-vis the whole *jumping into the sack * thing?"

Viggo grinned. "Anything can happen … in a New York minute," he said.

"I hope that wasn't you trying to be clever. Now we've settled the question of attraction; what's next, then?"

"I'd still like to have dinner," Viggo said. "Then you can come up to my room, if you should decide to cancel your flight to England. We'll probably drink a little and talk a lot. If at some point we're moved to … how can I put this without being vulgar? If love should lead us to … jump each other, I won't think you're a slut."

"I am though," Sean leered.

"You're kidding," Viggo deadpanned. "I knew there was a reason you owned stock in Trojans."

"I'm a major shareholder," Sean answered. "Ready for dinner?"

"You in a hurry?"

Sean thought about that for a minute. "Yes, and no," he said. "I feel a bit odd. On one hand, I want to grab you and … make you mine, but on the other, I feel as though I have all the time in the world. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yep," Viggo smiled. "I do. Come on. You're going to have the best pizza you've ever tasted."

"Sounds great," Sean said, releasing Viggo with a last squeeze.

"There's just one thing I want to do first," Viggo said, reaching into his jacket pocket.

"What's that?" Sean asked as he pressed the unlock button on his keychain.

Viggo fished out his cell phone. "It's really early in the morning in England, right?"

Sean nodded. "So?"

"So … I'm calling Orlando," Viggo said with a wicked grin.

The end.

p.s. Viggo and Sean did look up the pictures on the Internet and Sean's favorite was the one of Viggo's feet. (Actually, Sean is verra, verra fond of Viggo's feet.)