Genre: Fluffy smut.
Disclaimer: There are some things that are true and a matter of public record. These two were in a movie together. It was shot in New Zealand. Sean has a tattoo. The rest is completely 100% fiction, I made it all up, I just like playing with the pretty boys, so please don't sue.
Author's Note: For SPB, who wanted Bean and Craig, smutty fluff. I hope this pleases you - writing it was enough to scare me away from all challenges for the rest of my life. For three and a half weeks, all these two wanted to do was Viggo. Thanks to marginalia and mellyflori for their support, and thank goodness it turned out that these two guys had enough in common to bond after all.
Sean made a promise to himself. He was absolutely not going to get involved with anyone on this shoot. He'd done that way too often, which led to being a forty-year-old, twice-divorced father of three. And that twice could become three times, if things at home didn't get better soon.
He just didn't seem to be able to resist temptation in any form, and the forced closeness with others that was an inevitable part of life as an actor didn't make it any easier.
No involvement. He'd do the work, say his lines, and keep to himself as much as possible. An easy enough promise to keep.
But that was before he arrived in New Zealand, and learned again that old habits die hard. Much as his character was tempted by the Ring, Sean found himself tempted on every side. His co-stars were just too damned attractive. And fun. And interesting. And possessors of very appealing personalities - and physical attributes - that were difficult to ignore. Especially when the younger members of the Fellowship insisted on "team-building" by spending nights out drinking and dancing like fools in the local bars. The Hobbits had formed quite a tight group before the other members of the group had even arrived in New Zealand, and were determined to build strong ties with the rest of the nine as well. And as had happened so many times before, Sean could not resist them. He did try to make a point, however, of accepting their invitations, but never extending one of his own.
* * * * *
Stumbling through the forest set, mumbling his way through strange lines filled with unfamiliar terms, he wondered again what the bloody hell he'd been thinking to take this part. Trying to find his way to the scene they were about to shoot, he started muttering again.
"Ecthelion ... clear ringing of silver trumpets... the Lords of Gondor have returned." He felt a right fool saying some of his lines. He'd said some odd things before, on other jobs, but nothing like this. As far as he could see, though, he was the only one experiencing the problem. Most of the others - Hugo, Viggo, Ian - seemed to become their characters so easily.
Hearing voices, he headed in that direction. Voice, he corrected himself. As he grew closer, he could hear the person in question speaking in the airy language of the elves.
Speaking in tongues. Another thing he'd been trying to get used to. It still gave him a bit of a start, hearing people speaking in made-up languages. He didn't mind it so much with Viggo. You could really believe that he did speak the language - it came so naturally to him, you'd think it was as easy for him as Danish or English. Whereas Sean found Tolkien's words difficult enough in English.
Sean turned around a tree and walked right into a blond-haired man. Elf. Person.
"Sorry," muttered Sean. "Didn't mean to intrude."
"No, no," answered the Elf. "I didn't know there was anyone around yet. I just thought I'd get used to the, um, set. Before we start shooting this next scene."
Sean felt a little stupid, since clearly this person was in a scene with him in a few minutes. He was sure they'd met before, but couldn't remember this character's name, or who played him. Not Hugo - Elrond, he reminded himself. One of the Elf guards, maybe?
"Haldir," he said, holding out his hand. "Elf," he added somewhat unnecessarily, since anyone on this set who was as tall as this fellow - his own height - with pointed ears - had to be an elf.
Shaking the proffered hand, Sean spoke. "Boromir. Uh, of Gondor. Man. Part of the Fellowship."
"Ah. You're the one who ..."
"Betrays the Fellowship, yes, that's me." God, he was getting tired of people thinking of him that way. The Fellowship - Viggo, Elijah, Sean, and so on, - seemed to understand him, and want to know him outside of his character, but the other actors seemed able only to think of him as a traitor.
"I'm Sean. Bean."
"God, I know. You're Sharpe! I'm Craig. Craig Parker."
"Good to meet you." They shook hands.
Sean's brow crinkled. "Haldir ... you're the obnoxious elf? 'The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark.'?"
Craig grimaced. "Yeah, that's me. Great opening line, isn't it? I know I end up being a nice guy, but I'm afraid the audience is going to hate me for being rude to the Fellowship. I wanted to be nicer, but Peter wants the delivery a little haughty. He says they'll get to like me when I die."
"You die too?" This was a first. Sean hadn't met anyone else who was playing a character who would die. If you didn't count orcs and other assorted bad guys.
"Yeah. Not in the first film, though. Later. They're going to write some Elves into the big battle, and I'll die there. Bashed in the head with an axe is what they're talking about now, but that could change."
"At least I get to die in Viggo's arms," grinned Sean. "That'll be something."
"I think I do too," replied Craig. "I don't know how all that unwashed stubble can be so attractive, but it is."
Sean laughed. "It's the man underneath the grime - he's magnetic."
"That's exactly the word I thought of too!" exclaimed Craig. "He's a genius in his own way, isn't he? I have to admit I'm a little in awe of him."
Sean shook his head. "So am I."
"Sounds like we have a lot in common," said Craig.
"Maybe after today's shooting is done, we could get a pint and find out," suggested Sean.
"I'd like that," said Craig. And raised his eyebrows in a way that made Sean's stomach clench.
Shite, thought Sean. But he didn't retract the invitation.
* * * * *
It had all happened quite quickly after that. Despite the difference in their ages, which bothered Sean but not Craig, - it's not like we're Indiana Jones and Ally McBeal, Sean. You're only 11 years older - and the ex-wife factor, which bothered Craig but not Sean, - it's called bisexual, Craig. You know, interested in both sexes? - the two men just clicked.
The night of Sean's last day on the set, Craig traced the tattoo on Sean's upper arm. "'Blades Forever'". Maybe when the shoot is over I’ll come to England and see these Blades of yours. You've seen more of my country than most people. When I come to visit you, what will you show me that most people never see?"
Sean grinned. "How about my fine English mattress to shag you into?"
"Only after we've spent a day at the seaside, drinking tea and freezing our arses off in true English fashion."
"You and your English stereotypes," grumbled Sean.
"Then tell me what you'll show me."
"Three things," said Sean.
"I'll guess, will I?" suggested Craig. "And if I get them, then I get to wear the jersey next time." Sean's glance flickered protectively towards the Sheffield United jersey hanging on the back of the door.
"The Tower of London," guessed Craig. "Beheadings, men in funny hats, birds with their wings cut off, and so on."
"Wrong." He quirked an eyebrow. "That's one."
"Big Ben," said Craig. "England's largest phallic structure."
Sean snickered and rolled over.
"Of course not," laughed Craig. He ran his hand down Sean's side until it came to rest on his half-hard cock. "Besides," he said, squeezing gently, "I've already seen the phallic symbols England's got to offer." Sean laughed despite himself. "I don't call it Ben, though."
"I don't want to show you bloody Big Ben," Sean groused.
"No, it's something much more important, isn't it?" Craig shifted his body so that he was curled spoon-like around Sean and murmured into his neck. "It's your daughters."