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orlando_bloom discuss work
Oct. 16th, 2015 08:27 americbanaplayers only. backdated.
The London traffic is not as gnarly in the latter part of the evening and Orlando is grateful for the relatively quick drive home from the studio. I'm practically on time. He smiles as he texts a quick message to Eric and within a few minutes they're pulling up in front of the house.
He thanks the driver and tugs his hat down as he steps out on the curb. Their new neighborhood is peaceful this time of day, with a couple out enjoying an evening stroll and the sweet little lady next door walking her ancient poodle. He waves a greeting as he bounds up the steps and opens the door, tugging off his hat and coat and hanging them in the hall.
The smell of good cooking wafts down from the upper levels and Orlando locks the door behind him and takes the stairs two at a time. "Eric?" Coming around the banister into the kitchen level. "I'm home."
"In here," Eric calls back, giving the sauce a stir and sliding the pan of garlic bread into the oven. He's already done up a salad, the table's set and there's a colander of cooked pasta in the sink just waiting for the sauce. "How was your day?" he asks, wrapping his arms around Orlando and kissing him hard on the mouth.
"Mm," Orlando smiles into the kiss, returning it with arms draped over Eric's shoulders. "Good. We got through the last of the tech rehearsals and we'll start on the ADRs tomorrow." He peers around his shoulder and sniffs. "Smells really good. Thanks for cooking, handsome." He grins. "You'll spoil your boy. Is it puttanesca?"
"Yup. Puttanesca, pasta, garlic bread," Eric grins, pretty damn happy with himself. He can cook but nothing fancy and he's more likely to shove something in the microwave or oven than to actually start from scratch.
"It looks delicious," Orlando says, kissing his jaw again, hands sliding down to press against Eric's chest. "How was your day? Do anything fun?"
"Day was good. I worked on the bike most of it and then I was reading through this script while getting dinner ready."
"Script?" Orlando asks, expression curious as he pulls away to peer into the sauce pot, using a spoon to steal a taste. "Mmm, I was right. Delicious." He sets the spoon in the sink and goes to the fridge for water. "Ah, it must be good. The script." He grins and nods to where Eric has it slid in next to the recipe book in the holder.
"Maybe," Eric says with a small shrug, leaning back against the counter. "It could be good, it's a great role, I just don't think the timing's right."
"How so?" Orlando says, leaning on the counter across from him as he takes a sip of water. "I've got a post-production schedule from hell until the end of the year, but when would filming for that one start?"
"In a month, if I take it," Eric says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Their first choice was forced to drop out for health reasons so..."
Orlando tilts his head and studies Eric. "You really want it," he murmurs, then asks, just in case. "Do you really want it?"
Eric blows out a breath. "If it didn't mean being apart from you, I'd take it in a heartbeat," he confesses. "But I hate the idea of us being separated. And it's not like we could pop over on weekends with you there."
"I hate the idea of us being separated as well, but I think we should talk about it," Orlando says, gesturing between them. "We've been really lucky so far. I was lucky you weren't on a project when Peter called about the work on the Hobbit." He sets his water down and at the floor between his feet. "I wouldn't have turned Peter down, Eric. Even if you'd been working on something else," he says, honestly, looking up.
"I know you wouldn't have," Eric says, "and I wouldn't have blamed you. You know what working with Peter is like, what those movies mean, this is me guessing this might be a role-of-a-lifetime when it could just as easily go straight to DVD." He sighs.
Orlando looks at Eric, then crosses the kitchen and kisses him. "Is the bread ready? I think we should get our plates and talk about it more over this delicious smelling dinner. What do you think?"
Eric nods and starts putting their dinner together, the pasta quickly reheated and the sauce poured over it, the garlic bread nicely browned by that time. "Do you want wine?" he asks. "I put it out but I didn't open it."
"Yes, I think I would like a glass," Orlando says, getting the bottle opener from a drawer and going after the bottle while Eric plates their food. "You?" he asks, pulling the cork and picking up a glass.
"Please," Eric nods, making sure everything's set out and their water glasses filled before he finally takes a seat. "I guess the thing is," he says, "if I take the role, I don't want to make a habit of this. I like the way we've been doing things. I don't want to spend half the year or more away from you."
Pulling a piece of bread off the platter, Orlando shakes his head as he nibbles. "Neither do I," he says, "But folks outside our industry have to compromise on location occasionally because of work." He sighs and loads up his fork, taking a bite of the pasta, then making a pleased sound. "This really is good." Another bite and a sip of wine before he sets down his glass. "I like the way we do things, but I don't want you to miss out on great work."
It's weird. As much as Eric wants to take the role, he almost wishes Orlando wasn't as understanding. That he sounded just a little more upset at the prospect of being parted. "Thanks," he says about the food and digs in, not really tasting it. "I don't know. I'll think about it."
Orlando hasn't lived with the man this long without learning a thing or two. "Well, that's an abrupt ending to a conversation I didn't realize was over." He sets down his fork and wipes his hand on his napkin, head tilted as he looks at Eric. "Will you please talk to me?" he asks, his voice gentle but exasperated. "I know this is a big deal. That's why we're talking about it." He hesitates, then blurts, "Did I say something wrong? Or do you really need more time to think this over?"
Eric blows out a breath and sits back. "You didn't say anything wrong," he says, pissed off at himself. "You're being a loving supportive partner. I'm supposed to want that. But there's a part of me that would rather have you asking me not to go."
Instinct has Orlando out of his chair and wrapped around Eric before he's aware he's moved. He leans on the arm he has around Eric's shoulder, his hand pressed against his chest, heartbeat under his palm. "I want to," he says, the words intense, as serious as he's ever been between them. "I want to say don't go. I want to say take me with you. I want to ask you to risk your work, or mine - doesn't matter - to keep us together. I want to, I do." His brow furrowed, his expression pained. "But I won't," laying a hand on the side of his face and pressing their foreheads together, "because I love you. I respect your work and your decisions, and I have to let you decide."
Eric nods, quietly absorbing every word. Every touch. "I love you," he says softly, finally. "I'm still not sure whether I want to take it, whether it's worth being parted from you, but I'll give it some serious thought and it's good to know I have your support either way."
"You do," Orlando says, voice soft. "Always." He settles more comfortably across Eric's lap. "You know, although post-production will continue until the holidays, I could probably swing a few long weekends off, and I should be done with everything by early December. Do you have any dates yet?"
"I think they're talking November 1st," Eric says, tightening his arms around Orlando.
"Yuck," Orlando says. "That's a month at least," he grumbles, leaning in with a sigh. "But I suppose it beats six months apart. I don't have anything on my schedule again until late next year with the next Pirates. Have they determined the locations yet? Of course, I'll go wherever they send you."
"Ireland for the most part," Eric says, hand sliding up the back of Orlando's shirt to stroke over smooth heated skin, "and they're talking a break at Christmas, so they must be planning to run into January."
Orlando's expression lightens. "A holiday break is good. Is it long enough we could still go see your family?"
Eric smiles. "I think so," a tightness in his chest easing as they talk about the ins and outs of actually doing this. "I'd like that. So would they."
"Me as well," Orlando says. "My family's been a bit spoiled with us around London all the time and as much as I love them, we have a good time with yours. Your family is," his grin crooked, the warmth of Eric's hand against his skin making him languid. "Well, they're a bit more relaxing than mine, I think."
"My brother's a goofball," Eric says with a grin. "And my family adores you."
"That's because I'm cute," Orlando quips, grin irrepressible. "And I adore your goofball brother. He's like an enormous, furrier you. Only y'know," gesturing vaguely, "without the sexy bits."
Eric laughs and kisses Orlando. Blows out a soft breath. "You really think I should take this part?"
"Yes," Orlando says with a nod. "I'll work as much magic as I can on my end to get my schedule manageable enough to make it work." Gaze searching, his eyes soft. "I can tell how much you want it," he murmurs. "And that makes its important enough to me to find a way to make it work."
Eric just looks at Orlando. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asks finally.
"Nope." Orlando says, expression smug and delighted all at once as he beams at Eric. "I like it when you tell me all the time," he dramatizes gleefully, patting Eric's chest with both hands.
Eric laughs and kisses the tip of Orlando's nose. "I love you. So so much."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
The London traffic is not as gnarly in the latter part of the evening and Orlando is grateful for the relatively quick drive home from the studio. I'm practically on time. He smiles as he texts a quick message to Eric and within a few minutes they're pulling up in front of the house.
He thanks the driver and tugs his hat down as he steps out on the curb. Their new neighborhood is peaceful this time of day, with a couple out enjoying an evening stroll and the sweet little lady next door walking her ancient poodle. He waves a greeting as he bounds up the steps and opens the door, tugging off his hat and coat and hanging them in the hall.
The smell of good cooking wafts down from the upper levels and Orlando locks the door behind him and takes the stairs two at a time. "Eric?" Coming around the banister into the kitchen level. "I'm home."
"In here," Eric calls back, giving the sauce a stir and sliding the pan of garlic bread into the oven. He's already done up a salad, the table's set and there's a colander of cooked pasta in the sink just waiting for the sauce. "How was your day?" he asks, wrapping his arms around Orlando and kissing him hard on the mouth.
"Mm," Orlando smiles into the kiss, returning it with arms draped over Eric's shoulders. "Good. We got through the last of the tech rehearsals and we'll start on the ADRs tomorrow." He peers around his shoulder and sniffs. "Smells really good. Thanks for cooking, handsome." He grins. "You'll spoil your boy. Is it puttanesca?"
"Yup. Puttanesca, pasta, garlic bread," Eric grins, pretty damn happy with himself. He can cook but nothing fancy and he's more likely to shove something in the microwave or oven than to actually start from scratch.
"It looks delicious," Orlando says, kissing his jaw again, hands sliding down to press against Eric's chest. "How was your day? Do anything fun?"
"Day was good. I worked on the bike most of it and then I was reading through this script while getting dinner ready."
"Script?" Orlando asks, expression curious as he pulls away to peer into the sauce pot, using a spoon to steal a taste. "Mmm, I was right. Delicious." He sets the spoon in the sink and goes to the fridge for water. "Ah, it must be good. The script." He grins and nods to where Eric has it slid in next to the recipe book in the holder.
"Maybe," Eric says with a small shrug, leaning back against the counter. "It could be good, it's a great role, I just don't think the timing's right."
"How so?" Orlando says, leaning on the counter across from him as he takes a sip of water. "I've got a post-production schedule from hell until the end of the year, but when would filming for that one start?"
"In a month, if I take it," Eric says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Their first choice was forced to drop out for health reasons so..."
Orlando tilts his head and studies Eric. "You really want it," he murmurs, then asks, just in case. "Do you really want it?"
Eric blows out a breath. "If it didn't mean being apart from you, I'd take it in a heartbeat," he confesses. "But I hate the idea of us being separated. And it's not like we could pop over on weekends with you there."
"I hate the idea of us being separated as well, but I think we should talk about it," Orlando says, gesturing between them. "We've been really lucky so far. I was lucky you weren't on a project when Peter called about the work on the Hobbit." He sets his water down and at the floor between his feet. "I wouldn't have turned Peter down, Eric. Even if you'd been working on something else," he says, honestly, looking up.
"I know you wouldn't have," Eric says, "and I wouldn't have blamed you. You know what working with Peter is like, what those movies mean, this is me guessing this might be a role-of-a-lifetime when it could just as easily go straight to DVD." He sighs.
Orlando looks at Eric, then crosses the kitchen and kisses him. "Is the bread ready? I think we should get our plates and talk about it more over this delicious smelling dinner. What do you think?"
Eric nods and starts putting their dinner together, the pasta quickly reheated and the sauce poured over it, the garlic bread nicely browned by that time. "Do you want wine?" he asks. "I put it out but I didn't open it."
"Yes, I think I would like a glass," Orlando says, getting the bottle opener from a drawer and going after the bottle while Eric plates their food. "You?" he asks, pulling the cork and picking up a glass.
"Please," Eric nods, making sure everything's set out and their water glasses filled before he finally takes a seat. "I guess the thing is," he says, "if I take the role, I don't want to make a habit of this. I like the way we've been doing things. I don't want to spend half the year or more away from you."
Pulling a piece of bread off the platter, Orlando shakes his head as he nibbles. "Neither do I," he says, "But folks outside our industry have to compromise on location occasionally because of work." He sighs and loads up his fork, taking a bite of the pasta, then making a pleased sound. "This really is good." Another bite and a sip of wine before he sets down his glass. "I like the way we do things, but I don't want you to miss out on great work."
It's weird. As much as Eric wants to take the role, he almost wishes Orlando wasn't as understanding. That he sounded just a little more upset at the prospect of being parted. "Thanks," he says about the food and digs in, not really tasting it. "I don't know. I'll think about it."
Orlando hasn't lived with the man this long without learning a thing or two. "Well, that's an abrupt ending to a conversation I didn't realize was over." He sets down his fork and wipes his hand on his napkin, head tilted as he looks at Eric. "Will you please talk to me?" he asks, his voice gentle but exasperated. "I know this is a big deal. That's why we're talking about it." He hesitates, then blurts, "Did I say something wrong? Or do you really need more time to think this over?"
Eric blows out a breath and sits back. "You didn't say anything wrong," he says, pissed off at himself. "You're being a loving supportive partner. I'm supposed to want that. But there's a part of me that would rather have you asking me not to go."
Instinct has Orlando out of his chair and wrapped around Eric before he's aware he's moved. He leans on the arm he has around Eric's shoulder, his hand pressed against his chest, heartbeat under his palm. "I want to," he says, the words intense, as serious as he's ever been between them. "I want to say don't go. I want to say take me with you. I want to ask you to risk your work, or mine - doesn't matter - to keep us together. I want to, I do." His brow furrowed, his expression pained. "But I won't," laying a hand on the side of his face and pressing their foreheads together, "because I love you. I respect your work and your decisions, and I have to let you decide."
Eric nods, quietly absorbing every word. Every touch. "I love you," he says softly, finally. "I'm still not sure whether I want to take it, whether it's worth being parted from you, but I'll give it some serious thought and it's good to know I have your support either way."
"You do," Orlando says, voice soft. "Always." He settles more comfortably across Eric's lap. "You know, although post-production will continue until the holidays, I could probably swing a few long weekends off, and I should be done with everything by early December. Do you have any dates yet?"
"I think they're talking November 1st," Eric says, tightening his arms around Orlando.
"Yuck," Orlando says. "That's a month at least," he grumbles, leaning in with a sigh. "But I suppose it beats six months apart. I don't have anything on my schedule again until late next year with the next Pirates. Have they determined the locations yet? Of course, I'll go wherever they send you."
"Ireland for the most part," Eric says, hand sliding up the back of Orlando's shirt to stroke over smooth heated skin, "and they're talking a break at Christmas, so they must be planning to run into January."
Orlando's expression lightens. "A holiday break is good. Is it long enough we could still go see your family?"
Eric smiles. "I think so," a tightness in his chest easing as they talk about the ins and outs of actually doing this. "I'd like that. So would they."
"Me as well," Orlando says. "My family's been a bit spoiled with us around London all the time and as much as I love them, we have a good time with yours. Your family is," his grin crooked, the warmth of Eric's hand against his skin making him languid. "Well, they're a bit more relaxing than mine, I think."
"My brother's a goofball," Eric says with a grin. "And my family adores you."
"That's because I'm cute," Orlando quips, grin irrepressible. "And I adore your goofball brother. He's like an enormous, furrier you. Only y'know," gesturing vaguely, "without the sexy bits."
Eric laughs and kisses Orlando. Blows out a soft breath. "You really think I should take this part?"
"Yes," Orlando says with a nod. "I'll work as much magic as I can on my end to get my schedule manageable enough to make it work." Gaze searching, his eyes soft. "I can tell how much you want it," he murmurs. "And that makes its important enough to me to find a way to make it work."
Eric just looks at Orlando. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asks finally.
"Nope." Orlando says, expression smug and delighted all at once as he beams at Eric. "I like it when you tell me all the time," he dramatizes gleefully, patting Eric's chest with both hands.
Eric laughs and kisses the tip of Orlando's nose. "I love you. So so much."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
