Orlando / Johnny slash | PG15
Okay, I may get in trouble for posting this.. but it's not too suggestive, I hope. Have a read of the first chapter, and let me know what you think.
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Rating: PG15 for kissing and touching ^^
Warnings: This is slash, male/male loving, and if you're disgusted by things like that I suggest you don't read any further. It's a very fluffy and sweet-ish story, so don't expect any smut whatsoever
Disclaimer: I don't own Johnny and Orlando and any other person you recognise. All I own is the plot and my vivid imagination. Just so you know: I'm fully aware that Orlando and Johnny are most likely *not* gay. lol.
1. Orlando
Right before I accepted the part of Will Turner in Pirates, Dom came to visit me in London. It wasn’t like that was very exceptional whatsoever, because we hooked up quite a lot. This time, however, was different. This time we watched Edward Scissorhands together, a movie that I had seen about twenty times already. When the credits rolled over the screen, Dom looked at me the way only he can look – and every time he does so, I feel like I’ve done something incredibly stupid – and asked:
“Why again, Orli, do you plan on refusing the part?”
I grinned sheepishly, because truth be told, I started to wonder the same.
The first time I read the script of Pirates, I wasn’t very impressed. I thought it was just a little too cliché and Hollywood for my liking, even though I had a chance to play next to my hero. Dom knew that I had Johnny on a pedestal, and he just possibly couldn’t understand why I considered refusing the part I had been offered. Now that I had seen Johnny in one of his better roles again, I couldn’t, either.
“Well…” I said, rubbing my neck with my hand.
“Orli,” Dom interrupted, trying to talk some sense in me, “Are you out of your @#%$ mind? The guy’s a genius! This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, man!”
“I know,” I mumbled.
“Then why-”
“I don’t know.”
“You bloody wanker,” Dom said incredulously, shaking his head, probably thinking I was a lost case. “If you aren’t going to accept this part, fine. But then I never, never, want to hear the name Johnny Depp again, alright?”
“I’m going to call,” I softly said, realising I was a bloody wanker indeed if I didn’t grab this opportunity.
“What?”
“I’m going to call. To say I want to part,” I explained, at which I received an approving look and a bright smile.
“You won’t regret it, trust me,” he beamed, and I picked up the phone and dialled the number of my agent.
Dom was right. Not a second I regretted taking the part. The sword-trainings are great, Malta is great, my co-stars are great and Johnny is simply fantastic. I swear: that man is a God. He is amazingly committed to his work and he knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it. You should see what he’s done with his character, Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow, for that matter. It’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant. I learn so much only from looking at him, looking at how he changes from the soft-spoken and observant man into the loud and wine-spilling pirate who is going to be the absolute star of this movie. There is no one who could do this better than he, and sometimes I have to pinch my hand to convince myself this is all real.
Johnny and I hang out quite a lot off-set, sometimes with the others, sometimes just the two of us. More than once he has asked me to have dinner with him, in this fantastic residence he has. It’s insane, really, having dinner with someone you’ve admired as long as you can remember, getting to participate in his life for a while. I am happy to sense that he’s quite fond of me, and whenever he gives me a compliment about a scene or something, I’m ridiculously pleased. Hearing words of approval from the one I nearly worship, is something I don’t think I could ever get enough of and I have to say it does wonders to my ego.
Two days ago, he asked me to come over again. He wanted to see me, he’d said, because it had been awhile since my last visit. Being as happy as I was with his invitation, I had decided not to mention that it had only been three days since I’d last been there.
The evening itself was incredible. We drank some wine, drank some more wine, had a lot of fun and then he suddenly asked if I felt like watching the sunset. Of course I couldn’t refuse. I had seen my share of sunsets, but something told me that watching the sun sink into the sea with Johnny was an entirely different thing. So I followed Johnny outside, followed Johnny because I wanted him to lead me, and after walking for a couple of minutes he suddenly stopped in his tracks, raised his head up to the sky and then looked me in the eye.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered in that soft voice he has, and I obeyed because I trusted him. Without saying a word, he grabbed my wrist and guided me and I tried to focus on the crackling of twigs beneath my feet, or the chirping of a bird, but my mind kept on fixing on Johnny’s fingers that encircled my wrist. His hands were calloused yet surprisingly soft against my skin, and before that trail of thought could be finished, we came to a halt.
“You can look now,” Johnny said, and when I opened my eyes I was greeted by a breathtaking sight. Right in front of us laid the Mediterranean Sea, the calmly surging of it filling my heart with a strange feeling of serenity. The sky was filled with oranges and reds, and the sun was about to sink behind the horizon.
“We made it just on time,” Johnny said, and when I looked beside me I saw the light of the descending sun reflected in his dark eyes.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, not knowing whether I was talking about my surroundings or the glittering of Johnny’s eyes.
“It is, isn’t it,” the man beside me agreed, his gaze fixed on the orange sun.
We placed ourselves in the sand, silently watching the beautiful sight we were offered. When I sat there on that Maltese beach, my arms slung around my knees, silently witnessing the magnificence of nature, I felt completely at peace. I didn’t believe there was anything that could make the moment more perfect than it already was, and it felt good to be able to share this moment with Johnny, who was smoking a cigarette under a dusky sky.
“We should do this more often,” he commented once the sun had disappeared from our view. “You know, you and me together.”
He cast a look at me before taking a long drag off his cigarette and I silently watched him, because silence was all I could give him right then. When I realised Johnny might have expected another reaction than just my looking, I replied:
“I agree. You’re great to spend time with.”
He looked at me and smiled before he shifted his gaze to the rumbling sea in front of us again, his cigarette dangling between his slender fingers. “Likewise,” he said in a low voice.
“Malta is so amazing, don’t you think?” I asked him quickly, changing the subject before I could say anything stupid. My fingers were drawing lazy circles in the sand, my eyes following my movements. “There’s so much more I want to see than I already have.”
Johnny quietly laughed and crunched his cigarette in the sand. “Then let me be your guide,” he said, and when our eyes met, I felt a sensation in my stomach that was incredible and confusing at the same time, and it hasn’t disappeared ever since.
I think I’m falling in love.