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Sean's home is every bit the fortress he is, and Orlando's tired of the cliché, of dancing around it and around him, of hitting brick walls and solid mortar when it would be far more preferable to collide with the soft knit of Sean's jumpers--the ones he pays too much money for and wears whenever it gets even just a little chilly, not even cold enough for Orlando to do more than hunch his shoulders and shove both hands deep into his pockets.
He sneaks a touch one night when Dom has them all over for pasta puttanesca and several bottles of some local red he found wandering the weekend before. Not, found the wine wandering, took it in, taught it manners, the rain in new zealand falls mainly on the sheep kinda thing; the other one, Dom assures them, whiping saucy hands on his jeans before disappearing back to the kitchen and away from iffy grammar.
Orlando stays as long as it is proper then begs off, citing a hot date with a fiesty blonde who would have his balls if he didn't show up.
He spends the rest of the night in the flicker of his television, wrapped in worn-out tapes and a historical period he couldn't care less about. Flashes of familiar smiles, skin and frowns, all covered in dust and other men's sweat. Orlando waits until mere minutes before the credits to jerk off, a frantic montage of scenes running pell-mell behind his eyelids.
The next day he drops the tapes off at Billy's because he can't bring himself to destroy them, or part with them completely, even though he knows a clean break is always best. Unhelpfully, Billy suggests Orlando splurge on the DVD boxset and spare himself the heartache of VHS degradation. Orlando thinks Billy might be deliberately obtuse just to ease Orlando's torment, and Orlando offers him a grateful wince before slinking away.
Watching anything else after dark the following night prooves strangely unbearable and somehow calling Sean seems like the lesser evil in the face of Elijah's idea of cinematic divertissement. Sean doesn't object to Orlando inviting himself over on a Wednesday night and showing up within the half-hour with take-away menus and a rented copy of Battlefield Earth. Sean tells him they should treat themselves to an Ishtar/Bonfire of the Vanities double-bill next time around. Orlando doesn't get it, aside from the part where Sean doesn't mind there being a next time.
It becomes a habit in less instances than it takes to become a rule: Orlando invades Sean's space, literally and otherwise, with Chinese and Howard the Duck, or fried plantain and Cool Runnings, and just once with sushi and Waterworld. Sean doesn't question Orlando's selections nor does he ask about Orlando's sudden fatigue, but he never runs out of soft-knit jumpers for Orlando to fall asleep on.
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