Title: Gunning Down Romance
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Orlando/OC
Disclaimer: Orlando belongs to me and I wrote the lyrics to Dean Martin/Michael Buble's 'Sway'. :P I shouldn't have stolen the title of Savage Garden's song but it is so close to what this fic is about, I can't help it. Don't sue, no money, thanks.
Author's Note: Thought this up at the spur of the moment after a long hiatus; such a strange thing, my muse. Thanks to brilfeniel for the impromptu beta-ing! :D



Finally, the end of what had seemed to be the longest day in my life. The tension which I had not known existed just seems to melt away until I spot an unfamiliar car blocking my driveway.

It must be the Smiths again, I shake my head at my neighbours’ inconsideration and thought of honking the car horn before I realise that the other neighbours might not appreciate the little performance at 3am in the morning.

Sighing in resignation, I simply pull into an empty space by the road, making up my mind to speak with my neighbours as soon as possible. Stepping up to the front door, I fumble in my tote bag for the keys, cursing the burst bulb by the wall for not providing the light I need.

I push the stray strand of hair behind my ear, feeling doubly irritated when it refuses to stay in place. Just like a certain wanker, a voice in my head says lovingly... I mean, fondly. Same goes, I am entitled to love a friend.

When I finally found the damn keys, I find the door unlocked. Strange, I remotely remember locking it this morning. Pushing the door open cautiously, I find the television and stereo still in their places and banish my suspicion, blaming it on my forgetfulness.

Home sweet home. I throw the keys on the table and plop down on the couch gracelessly, propping my feet up and humming along to Michael Buble on my stereo. I never fail to swoon at his voice, and the distraction makes me dismiss easily the fact that the stereo is on.

Suddenly, I thought I heard padded footsteps echoing from the direction of the guest room. I immediately pick up the pepper spray bottle in the pocket of my coat and warily make my way to the source of the footsteps.

Before I can react, a dark figure daftly catches my arms from the back. The pepper spray bottle falls to the ground and my heart speeds up, not wanting to think about what could possibly happen to me now that I am caught off-guard. I struggle to be free before I catch the scent that has been haunting me every night.

“Hello love,” Orlando’s smooth voice, laced with mischief and held-back laughter, makes me shiver. I pull my arms out of his grasp immediately and turn around to face him, putting a safe distance between us. I have a love/hate relationship with his ease of wearing only a pair of jeans in my place.

“Bastard! What were you thinking, scaring me like that?” My heart skips a beat as I take in his cheeky grin, it is lethal and I am officially dying a slow death from over-exposure. “Do you want to scare your most wonderful best friend in the world to death?” I fake a high-pitched voice, trying to laugh off the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around me.

“And I miss you too, princess,” He giggles, “It’s been almost a year since I last saw you!” and promptly plants a noisy kiss on my forehead. I love it when he does that even though it makes me feel like one of his young fans he is trying to pacify, but I can only content myself with a friendly kiss.

“How long would you be disturbing my peace this time? I hope you are only here to say hi before leaving for your enormous hotel suite,” I tease him to receive a light jab in the stomach.

“Your dear friend here has a two-month holiday and has decided to spend it with his most wonderful best friend!” Orlando imitates my high-pitched voice from earlier. “You were the one who gave me the keys so I had assumed I am welcome all the time!”

Studying my face closely, he turns serious. “Workaholic, I have been waiting for you the whole night. You look like you have been to hell and back!”

I stuck my tongue out at him just as Michael Buble’s voice floods the room. Orlando winks mischievously at me before he sticks out his chest, entwines my fingers with his and holds me tightly on the wrist with his other hand.

“When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more”

Orlando sings rather out-of-tune as he swings me around the room, looking very smug with himself when I widen my eyes in realisation that he has the lines to my favourite song memorised.

“Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me”

As he gains more confidence, Orlando tries to sing louder than the music but soon found his voice drowned by Michael Buble’s voice. I laugh and bury my face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat and wishing things were different.

He pouts when he sees me laughing, and I feel the urge to kiss him to comfort him. Releasing my hand, he reaches for the stereo to lower the volume before intertwining our fingers in an even more intimate way, if that is possible.

“Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
When we sway I go weak”

He bends me over and I giggle because the whole situation seems so absurd. Orlando Bloom trying to compete with Michael Buble in the skill of serenading in the middle of the night!

I stand up straight happily to see that the mischief gone from his eyes. I am taken aback to see the almost black orbs filled with a longing I have never seen, or thought would ever see, and I wonder if my eyes speak of the same desire as we focus on each other. We continue swinging, my mind giddy and confused with emotions.

“I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now”

The last words die on his lips as he allows Michael Buble to sing alone. I lick my lips in nervousness and his eyes flickers downwards, releasing our hands only to run a finger along my cheek down to my collarbone. He comes close and I feel his unsteady breath on my lips, a tortuous desire.

I want to give up running and to give in to what my heart desires, but I cannot. I swallow with difficulty and will myself to take control. I take a deep breath and a step back, causing Orlando to stumble a little.

I give a little nervous laugh and slowly walk backwards to the sanctuary of my bedroom. “You can’t sing but nice try. I’m, uhh, going to take a shower and sleep. Just make yourself comfortable, see you in the morning,” I finish flatly.

“Wait,” Orlando strides towards me but I shut the door before he could get another word in. I lock the door to prevent him from entering and move towards the bathroom, stripping off my every piece of clothing to leave them on the floor. Cleaning up can wait.

An inner turmoil is ever-present since I met him. With this recent incident, how am I to survive two months alone with him? I am going to have to make up an excuse to get away from this place.

It is dangerous business getting involved with a man like him. I have seen enough in my twenty-eight years to understand that it is only playing with fire, one which would rage on without control. You would only crash and burn with no way out of the debris, no hope of seeing daylight again.

Never would I join the league of Orlando’s heart-broken lovers; there is too thin a line between love and lust.

Love is but a bid to tear yourself away from loneliness.

:cry:

I felt so happy when i saw you posted a shortie.
So incredibly happy to read one of your amazing stories.
And now I feel all sad and blue.
*cries*

It is so sad!!!
So heartbreakingly lonely

This part is pure poetry!
And I love every piece of it.


Goodness you are amazingly good darling!
The emotions, the development
Short but incredibly powerful!!

:love:

Wow that was really well written.
I loved it!!

Thank you, Dana dear!! *mwah*

Well, when I first read the title I thought you were really going to write a shortie off savage Garden... :P and, yes, a was a bit disappointed to realize you didn't ! :laugh:

Anyway, I reaiterate what I say everytime I have the lucky chance to read something yours: you are a great writer, missy, and I'm so sorry your stories don't grace us a little more often!
Seriously, no lip service meant here: you have some oh-so-tensed descriptions here, and a great atmosphere.

Plus, an intriguing end that allows me to hope for more.

:bow:

Or maybe, the lyrics of Gunning down the romance could actually use some help this time, although I reckon you wrere right, the title fits perfecly.

:wub:

OO that was fantastic. I like a lot. The last line so bitter sweet and true, but why can't she give in it maybe real love. *Le sigh* But great discriptions. Great shortie.

That was wonderful. Such a sad little story, but so beautifully written. The description of their dancing brought back my Orlando crush a bit. The last lines were so sad, though, even if they were true. Great job!

*~Steph~*

Le sigh.

Talk about a sad but yet amazing story. I am honestly at a loss for words. The only thing the keeps popping into mind are one word adjectives to describe greatness.

Amazing descriptions. The bit with Orlando singing and dancing had me swooning to no end.

Bravo. :bow: