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lobelia321FICLET: "Tidying Up"
SERIES: Nr. 9 of the boring!Orli storyverse. Nr. 8 is here.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Johnny Depp
Category: The slash hits the fan!
-----
Orli looked mildly startled, though not excessively so. He looked up from the floor where he was still crouched, wipe cloth in one hand, other hand on bent knee.
"You what? You want to rub ointment on my penis?"
Johnny nodded mutely. He was still sprawled on the Navajo rug, half-under the coffee table, half-off the settee.
"Why?" said Orli and stopped wiping.
"Um. Well..." Johnny went through an elaborate rigmarole of picking himself up off the ground, rearranging his particulars in his trousers, running a hand through his hair, running another hand along his thighs, looking up at the ceiling, looking down at the coffee table, looking across at Orli, looking across at the light switch next to the door on the other side of the room, clearing his throat, scratching his neck, looking across at Orli again, looking at the light switch one more time...
Meanwhile, Orli had arisen and walked into the kitchen to wring out the wipe cloth.
Johnny banged his shin against the coffee table and hurried after Orli.
The kitchen was empty. The gas inspector had gone. There were patches of machine grease on the cork tiles. A smell of Woolworth's own-brand aftershave lingered among the scents of pine air-freshener and lemon detergent, as well as the hint of unwashed overalls.
"Um," said Johnny again.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" said Orli.
"We've just had one."
"Yes, but another one?"
"Um. No. I... Can we talk about your wart some more?"
"Sure." Orli sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "Why? Have you had one, too?"
Johnny sank down in the chair opposite.
"No," he said slowly. "No, I haven't. But..."
Orli peered at Johnny closely.
Johnny picked up the salt shaker, a small cut-glass object with a metal perforated lid, nestled in a shaker-holder next to a pepper shaker, on the table next to the wall. He turned it round in his hands, looked at Orli, looked at the salt shaker.
"Johnny," said Orli.
"Yeah?" said Johnny.
"Are you making a pass at me?" said Orli.
Johnny upset the shaker. Salt spilled, krakatoa-like, onto the laminated table top.
"Yeah," said Johnny.
'Ping', said the oven timer.
"Look," said Orli. He turned around. He got up and fiddled with the knobs on the oven's fascia. "That gas man must have left something on here," he muttered. "I wonder..."
Johnny put the salt shaker down with a bang, jumped up and embraced Orli from behind.
"Oh," said Orli.
"Ohhh," said Johnny. He buried his mouth in Orli's mud-scented nape curls.
Orli placed his hands on Johnny's wrists which were laced around his midriff. He put his left hand on Johnny's right wrist and his right hand on Johnny's left wrist. In a cross-over motion, he separated Johnny's wrists from each other and from his midriff, and stepped out of the circle of Johnny's arms into the empty space next to Johnny.
Orli turned round.
"Johnny," he said.
Johnny put his hand on Orli's forearm.
Orli took Johnny's hand off his forearm.
"I can't say this is totally sudden," said Orli. "But..."
"What but?" Johnny's voice sounded breathless.
"Look, I like you. You're a good colleague and a friend. But I don't like you in that way. Not at all. Is that okay?"
"Um," said Johnny.
"I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations," said Orli. He knelt down, got out a brush and pan, and started brushing the salt off the table onto the pan.
Johnny watched in silence.
Orli put his foot on the pedal bin's pedal and tipped the volcano of sodium chloride into the bin.
"You missed a bit," said Johnny and pointed to the table.
"Oh, thanks." Orli licked his index finger, put the wet finger onto the remaining few grains of salt, moved the finger with the salt adhering to the moisture of his spit over to the pedal bin, rubbed forefinger and thumb together and watched the salt trickle into the garbage. He licked his finger.
"And..." said Johnny, staring at Orli's finger. "Another bit."
"Where?"
"There."
"There where?"
"Oh here, damnit." Johnny took the salt shaker and made another white hill on the table.
Orli frowned. "Okay. I can see you're a bit upset. But really, I'm not going to pick up all this salt."
"You say 'no' but then you go on licking your finger at me. Come on..." Johnny put his hand on Orli's hip.
Orli took the hand away. "I wasn't licking my finger at you. I was just licking it. You're a bit overwrought. I will make another cup of tea."
"Christ! How repressed can anybody be?" yelled Johnny.
Orli frowned again. "I'm not repressed. I just don't like you in that way."
'Ping,' went the oven.
Johnny kicked the oven. Johnny took the salt shaker and emptied it all over the kitchen floor, then threw it against the wall. Johnny took the pepper shaker and peppered the floor, the table, the sink and, inadvertently, his own face. He collapsed, wheezing and sneezing, onto the cork tiles where he rolled around cursing for a minute until he got up, stumbled into the hallway, opened the door and banged it shut behind him without saying 'goodbye'.
"Crikey," said Orli.
The phone rang.
-----
TBC
lobelia40@yahoo.com
27 June 2003
SERIES: Nr. 9 of the boring!Orli storyverse. Nr. 8 is here.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Johnny Depp
Category: The slash hits the fan!
-----
Orli looked mildly startled, though not excessively so. He looked up from the floor where he was still crouched, wipe cloth in one hand, other hand on bent knee.
"You what? You want to rub ointment on my penis?"
Johnny nodded mutely. He was still sprawled on the Navajo rug, half-under the coffee table, half-off the settee.
"Why?" said Orli and stopped wiping.
"Um. Well..." Johnny went through an elaborate rigmarole of picking himself up off the ground, rearranging his particulars in his trousers, running a hand through his hair, running another hand along his thighs, looking up at the ceiling, looking down at the coffee table, looking across at Orli, looking across at the light switch next to the door on the other side of the room, clearing his throat, scratching his neck, looking across at Orli again, looking at the light switch one more time...
Meanwhile, Orli had arisen and walked into the kitchen to wring out the wipe cloth.
Johnny banged his shin against the coffee table and hurried after Orli.
The kitchen was empty. The gas inspector had gone. There were patches of machine grease on the cork tiles. A smell of Woolworth's own-brand aftershave lingered among the scents of pine air-freshener and lemon detergent, as well as the hint of unwashed overalls.
"Um," said Johnny again.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" said Orli.
"We've just had one."
"Yes, but another one?"
"Um. No. I... Can we talk about your wart some more?"
"Sure." Orli sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "Why? Have you had one, too?"
Johnny sank down in the chair opposite.
"No," he said slowly. "No, I haven't. But..."
Orli peered at Johnny closely.
Johnny picked up the salt shaker, a small cut-glass object with a metal perforated lid, nestled in a shaker-holder next to a pepper shaker, on the table next to the wall. He turned it round in his hands, looked at Orli, looked at the salt shaker.
"Johnny," said Orli.
"Yeah?" said Johnny.
"Are you making a pass at me?" said Orli.
Johnny upset the shaker. Salt spilled, krakatoa-like, onto the laminated table top.
"Yeah," said Johnny.
'Ping', said the oven timer.
"Look," said Orli. He turned around. He got up and fiddled with the knobs on the oven's fascia. "That gas man must have left something on here," he muttered. "I wonder..."
Johnny put the salt shaker down with a bang, jumped up and embraced Orli from behind.
"Oh," said Orli.
"Ohhh," said Johnny. He buried his mouth in Orli's mud-scented nape curls.
Orli placed his hands on Johnny's wrists which were laced around his midriff. He put his left hand on Johnny's right wrist and his right hand on Johnny's left wrist. In a cross-over motion, he separated Johnny's wrists from each other and from his midriff, and stepped out of the circle of Johnny's arms into the empty space next to Johnny.
Orli turned round.
"Johnny," he said.
Johnny put his hand on Orli's forearm.
Orli took Johnny's hand off his forearm.
"I can't say this is totally sudden," said Orli. "But..."
"What but?" Johnny's voice sounded breathless.
"Look, I like you. You're a good colleague and a friend. But I don't like you in that way. Not at all. Is that okay?"
"Um," said Johnny.
"I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations," said Orli. He knelt down, got out a brush and pan, and started brushing the salt off the table onto the pan.
Johnny watched in silence.
Orli put his foot on the pedal bin's pedal and tipped the volcano of sodium chloride into the bin.
"You missed a bit," said Johnny and pointed to the table.
"Oh, thanks." Orli licked his index finger, put the wet finger onto the remaining few grains of salt, moved the finger with the salt adhering to the moisture of his spit over to the pedal bin, rubbed forefinger and thumb together and watched the salt trickle into the garbage. He licked his finger.
"And..." said Johnny, staring at Orli's finger. "Another bit."
"Where?"
"There."
"There where?"
"Oh here, damnit." Johnny took the salt shaker and made another white hill on the table.
Orli frowned. "Okay. I can see you're a bit upset. But really, I'm not going to pick up all this salt."
"You say 'no' but then you go on licking your finger at me. Come on..." Johnny put his hand on Orli's hip.
Orli took the hand away. "I wasn't licking my finger at you. I was just licking it. You're a bit overwrought. I will make another cup of tea."
"Christ! How repressed can anybody be?" yelled Johnny.
Orli frowned again. "I'm not repressed. I just don't like you in that way."
'Ping,' went the oven.
Johnny kicked the oven. Johnny took the salt shaker and emptied it all over the kitchen floor, then threw it against the wall. Johnny took the pepper shaker and peppered the floor, the table, the sink and, inadvertently, his own face. He collapsed, wheezing and sneezing, onto the cork tiles where he rolled around cursing for a minute until he got up, stumbled into the hallway, opened the door and banged it shut behind him without saying 'goodbye'.
"Crikey," said Orli.
The phone rang.
-----
TBC
lobelia40@yahoo.com
27 June 2003
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 04:23 am (UTC)Word.
Your boring Orli just gets better and better...poor Johnny! How could anyone reject him? *whimpers*
Am on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter.
*twiddles thumbs*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 04:50 am (UTC)My theory is that Johnny is enraptured by Wart. Orlando and his suggestive finger-lickin' is just a distraction.
Ooooh, who's on the phone? Will they, too, be enraptured by Orlando's Affliction? Will condiments erupt?
Smirking merrily; thank you, dear
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 06:29 am (UTC)Will he have time to answer the phone? The wait is going to kill me...! *bites fingernails* ;p
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 08:57 am (UTC)So I can't wait to see who (if) Orly does like "that way".
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 09:09 am (UTC)Bwah! Oh dear lord, this is just awesome. And who's on the phone? *keeps reading*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 09:37 am (UTC)Temper-tantrum!Johnny is the greatest!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 10:10 am (UTC)See you there!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 10:58 am (UTC)Orli frowned again. "I'm not repressed. I just don't like you in that way."
'Ping,' went the oven.
Fantastico!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 11:19 am (UTC)But look, what I'm saying is that I like boring!Orli.
Also: I am writing the forelock into my current curlfic, just for you.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-27 12:59 pm (UTC)sheer brilliance!