Title: Some Things Never Change
Pairing: Karl Urban/Viggo Mortensen
Notes: Written for the SlashaBaby Holiday Fic Exchange. Slashfairy asked for a fic that included Karl, Viggo, Orlando as equals in a caring and mature relationship. I asked not to write fic about Orlando in my request, but the Slasha mods said Karl/Viggo would be okay. I hope that works. Thanks to caras_galadhon for helping me get unstuck.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, which means that while the characters depicted are based on public personas of real celebrities, the events described in the story never happened. This story in no way claims to represent the truth about the people mentioned within or the way they would behave.
After Karl dropped his things in his hotel room and took a long, hot shower, he sat on the bed studying the envelope the girl at the reception desk gave him when he checked in. Inside was a card key for room 376. He smiled, surprised and a little impressed that Viggo remembered to include a slip of paper with the room number.
Karl tapped the keycard against the handrail in the elevator, which seemed like it stopped on every floor between eleven and three. He returned the smiles of the older couple who got on at eight and tried not to do the same to the leggy blonde in the mini-dress who breezed on at six. Every stop got him closer to Viggo, even though it also delayed their meeting. Karl smiled to himself. While Viggo might like the slow tease of an overlong elevator ride, Karl wished he had taken the bloody stairs.
When he arrived at the room, Karl raised his hand to knock, then let it fall to his side. Viggo wouldn't have given him the key if he intended for him to knock. He slid the card into the lock, heard the click as the light flashed from red to green. He pressed down on the latch, eased the door open, and peered inside the room.
There was food set out on a coffee table and an open suitcase on the floor. Clothes spilled out of the bag. Some of them were casually tossed on the nearby chair. Karl smiled, shook his head. Some things never changed.
He eased the door open, stepped inside the room. The beds were out of his view, and he paused a moment, closing his eyes as he imagined Viggo stretched out on the bed, naked and waiting for him. He wet his lips, took a deep breath, then looked around the corner.
Viggo was in bed, though reality did not quite mesh with Karl's daydream. Instead of being naked and needy, Viggo was sprawled diagonally across one of the beds, his head at the foot of the bed. One pillow was under his head, and he was curled around the other. He was wearing.... Karl frowned. He wasn't certain if they were very ugly rust and black plaid pajama bottoms or even uglier rust and black plaid pants. A plum colored t-shirt that was torn a little at the neckline completed the look, and he snored softly. The combination didn't seem to have the power to give Viggo bad dreams. Karl wasn't sure he could say the same.
Careful to move quietly, Karl knelt at the foot of the bed, ran his fingers lightly through Viggo's hair. He liked it better when it was longer and more messy, when it was hair that Viggo would wear, not some slapped-on style that could be shaped into whichever character he was slipping into for his next film.
Viggo stirred, murmured something soft in a language Karl didn't understand. It could have been Russian, Danish, or Elvish. His fingers stilled until Viggo drifted back into deeper dreams. It was quiet moments, like this one, that reminded him how accustomed he'd grown to having Viggo's scent on his sheets and on his skin, to waking up with Viggo pressed against him. Hurrying from film to film, never shooting in the same continent at the same time, they lost so much.
Leaning close, Karl brushed his lips lightly across Viggo's. This week was about finding, not losing. About rediscovering and reawakening, not turning away and moving on. He kissed Viggo softly, teasingly, with just the slightest brush of tongue. Viggo's breath hitched as he stirred. His eyes blinked open, and he smiled as if he expected Karl to be just where he was when Viggo woke.
Karl cleared his throat softly, nodded toward the door. "I let myself in."
"That's why I gave you the key." Viggo raised a hand to run his fingers over Karl's lips, along his jaw, into his hair. "I've missed you."
"You have?" Karl tried not to smile at Viggo's words and was not entirely successful. "I'd have thought you'd be too busy with your new projects."
Viggo frowned slightly. "Nothing could keep me that busy." He patted the mattress next to him. "Come here." He moved to that he wasn't taking up the whole of the bed, made room for Karl to stretch out.
When Viggo pressed close, curling an arm around Karl's waist, Karl couldn't fight a slight shiver at the familiarity of Viggo's body fitted against his own. His eyes slipped closed as he rested his cheek against Viggo's chest. He told himself it was so he didn't have to look at the god-awful color of Viggo's shirt.
"Are you tired?" Viggo's fingers combed slowly through Karl's hair, then stroked up and down the back of his neck.
Karl sighed deeply, shook his head. "Just missed this. Missed you."
Karl swore than he could feel Viggo's soft laughter tickling against his skin. He moved his hips away from Viggo. "Sorry."
"I'm not." Viggo pulled Karl back against him, kissed his hair. "I like feeling you against me."
When Viggo shifted his hips, Karl could feel just how much he liked it. This thing between them, neither of them had ever named it even though they were drawn back to it over and over again. Even though each time, no matter how long they'd been apart, it was so familiar and so very easy to forget the weeks and months since the last visit. It was natural and comfortable and necessary. Like breathing.
Viggo nodded toward the table. "I had some food sent up. I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry, and...." His voice trailed off as he chuckled, rubbed circles against Karl's back with the palm of his hand. "I wasn't sure we'd want to take the time to go get something."
"Good thinking." Karl tugged Viggo's t-shirt down a little so that he could lick at the base of Viggo's throat. He smiled when he felt Viggo swallow heavily. He sucked on Viggo's skin, expecting the shiver that ran through Viggo's body, the soft, needy sound that slipped from his lips.
Some things never changed, and Karl was always grateful for that.