Title: The Fantast and the Freak
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Ioan Gruffudd
Warnings: Slash, randomness
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, blabla, you know the drill.
A/N: I have no idea if toads smell or not. In my world, they don't. Written for the 3rd challenge on
The Coffee Shop. The challenge was writing an Orlando/Ioan story with fantasy as a theme. There also had to be included a sentence (Damn those eyes) and seven words (glitter, offspring, worth, vespertine, scream, feather, sparkling). I underlined them in the text.
The Fantast and the Freak“Wouldn’t it be cool,” Orlando mused aloud one day, his eyes narrowed and
sparkling with lively enthusiasm, “if there was a magical world somewhere beyond this one? Or, even better, if there was a magical world
within this one? That there was this sort of, I don’t know, gate, or something, that led to a place with witches and wizards and magic incantations and dragons and where people could
fly, and write with a
feather—”
“A quill,” Ioan interjected from across the room, barely looking up from his newspaper. “That’s called a quill.”
“—and be
invisible, and where there would be no diseases because every time someone would get sick some sort of wizard-doctor would say ‘healthae restorae!’, or something, and then that someone would be as fit as a fiddle again in an instant, and—”
“You know,” Ioan said, taking off his reading glasses and putting aside his paper, “I don’t think it would work like that.”
Orlando shot him an irritated look from his slouched position on the couch, and asked, mild impatience colouring his voice, “Why not? It’s a
magical world. Meaning that there happens
magical stuff.”
“That’s all very well,” Ioan said reasonably, “but an illness is an illness, and you can’t just go and abracadabra people better.”
“
Here it wouldn’t be possible, no, but I’m not talking about
here, I’m talking about
another world, you idiot.”
Ioan rubbed his eyes and sighed. “You have too much fantasy.”
“That’s better than being such a bloody bore as you,” Orlando sulked, crossing his arms and looking away. “If I were a wizard, I’d turn you into a smelly toad.”
“Toads don’t smell.”
Orlando rolled his eyes, as if he were dealing with a particularly annoying five-year-old. “I know. That’s why I used the adjective ‘smelly’, to make a distinction between a normal toad and a smelly toad. If I had assumed that toads were generally smelly, it would have been wrong to put ‘smelly’ in front of ‘toad’, because then you’d have a smelly smelly toad, and it would have been a bit of a pleonasm, you know, like ‘white snow’, or ‘dark night’, or ‘boring Ioan’.”
“I know what a pleonasm is, thank you,” Ioan remarked evenly, resuming his reading of yesterday’s news. “And your reasoning is extravagant as always.”
“You and your
logic and
reasoning and otherwise nonsensical nonsense,” Orlando huffed. “It’s obvious that you would never be allowed into a magical world, being the reasonable person that you are. No room for fantasy in that sensible head of yours.”
“At least I’m
sensible enough not to consider
Glitter an actual fun movie, unlike other people in this room,” Ioan retorted calmly, not taking his eyes off the paper.
“Glitter was pretty nice, thank you,” Orlando said indignantly. “So next to boring and reasonable you also have no taste. Why do I always pick the freaks?”
“The freak picked you, I fear,” came Ioan’s reply as he put the paper away again, deciding there was no way he could calmly read with a raving Orlando in the same room. “Although the freak finds it hard to remember why. He suspects the night he fell in love with such a fantast he was plagued by a case of
vespertine madness.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Orlando replied, sitting upright with a cheeky smile curling his lips. “Because when the freak saw the fantast, who was, might I add, absurdly good-looking, for the first time in that pub, the first thought that crossed his mind was ‘
damn, those eyes', followed by ‘damn, that arse’ and ‘damn, how splendidly does his shoes match his bracelet’, because he was gay like that, the freak I mean, and before he knew it, the freak found himself head over heels with the absurdly good-looking fantast, although by that time he didn’t know yet that he was a fantast, just absurdly good-looking, although he was, of course, fiercely convinced that the man was
fantastic in bed, which, much to the freak’s contentment, he actually turned out to be. Of course, this happy occasion didn’t take place immediately after the infamous introduction where the freak made an incredible fool of himself by practically drooling into the absurdly good-looking fantast’s lap, at which the absurdly good-looking fantast, from now on referred to as the A.G.F., was convinced he was dealing with a freak and fervently wished he had stayed home to watch
Scream, because freaks are always better on-screen than when they’re standing in front of you drooling. Thankfully, the freak started acting somewhat normal after that, although it was obvious that he couldn’t suppress his blatant desire for the A.G.F., and after a few glasses of wine the A.G.F.’s mind was blurred a bit, which was the reason he kissed the freak back when he found himself being practically orally raped by him. The rest, they say, is history,” he concluded, and sank back into the couch again.
“Is that the story you’re going to tell our
offspring when they ask how their parents met and fell in love?” Ioan asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because as far as I can recall, I didn’t drool in your lap, nor did I think ‘damn, that arse,’ or any of that nonsense. I admit that I was pretty taken with your eyes from the start, but the only reason I approached you that night was because I simply didn’t know anybody else there. And for the record, I didn’t make a fool out of myself that night. At least not that I know of. In fact, the only one that made a fool out of himself was
you. It’s nice to put all the blame on me, but if I’m not much mistaken you called me a ‘very hot man’ that night, and no, you weren’t drunk yet at that time. And mind you, if there was any oral raping going on that night it was done by you, not me. My God, I think my jaws still hurt two hours afterwards. It’s a good thing it was totally
worth it.”
“That’s a nice story,” Orlando said after a short pause, tucking his arms behind his head, “apart from the fact that it’s total bollocks. You know what I think, Ioan?” he said smugly, “I think you have too much fantasy.”
Ioan suppressed the urge to sigh. “Well, it seems you’re rubbing off on me.”
“Yeah,” Orlando said, a smile curling his lips. “You know I like rubbing. Do you think wizards like rubbing?”
“I have no idea,” Ioan said, sighing heavily. “They just might.”
“I think they do. What with the wands and everything. It’s obvious they’re sexually frustrated, I mean, look at Dumbledore, he’s—”
“Who?” Ioan interrupted. Not that he cared.
Orlando looked at him for a moment and released a deep, disbelieving sigh. “You’re about as cultured as a caveman! Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I haven’t run away screaming yet. Dumbledore! Hogwarts! Harry Potter!”
“Oh, he,” Ioan said in an impassive voice, rubbing his forehead as if he were fighting an oncoming headache. “Not that it’s a particularly useful piece of information to obtain, but what’s so sexually frustrated about Dumbledore?”
“Have you ever seen him shagging in those six books?” Orlando asked, his eyes open wide and his hands gesticulating wildly as to prove his point. “Have you ever read a single word that implied him having any kind of sexual relationship with anyone?”
“Have any of the other characters been shagging, then?” Ioan asked, guessing they hadn’t.
Orlando rolled his eyes, stunned in the face of so much ignorance. “Well, yes! I mean, it’s not explicitly written out or anything, but come on, it’s obvious that Harry and Ron are getting it on.”
Ioan covered his eyes with his hand and let out a strangled moan. “Oh my God. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Why would I? It’s so obvious! Best friends and all, sharing a dormitory… I mean, if I were Ron I wouldn’t have to think twice.”
“You’d probably rub him through the mattress,” Ioan said, trying to focus on his newspaper again.
“Definitely. I bet he could do awesome stuff with that wand of his,” Orlando mused, his eyes dreamy and wistful. “I think it’s the scar. Very sexy, that one. And the muscles, of course. Oh yes, the muscles.”
Ioan let out a groan and buried his face in his newspaper again. “And then you call
me a freak,” he said, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ Orlando, if I were a wizard, I’d turn you into a toad.”
~The End~