Author: Minervacat
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Orlando/Dom, Orlando/Bean, Orlando/Viggo
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not real, made it up, don't know them, etc, etc.
Summary: How could he have possibly thought he was straight with all those shirts in his closet?


Orlando woke up feeling very, very gay.

He'd gone to bed the night before at a reasonable hour, gotten a lot of rest, and been absolutely, 100% sure that he was straight before he fell asleep. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that whole reasonable hour thing, but he was at least 96% sure that too much sleep didn't turn one gay.

But here he was, at the crack of dawn on a lovely promising-to-be-sunny Tuesday morning with a nice dewy breeze blowing in through his windows, and he was staring at his closet with a growing feeling of horror in his chest.

How could he have possibly thought he was straight with all those shirts in his closet? His shirts were absolutely, 100% flamingly gay, and Orlando himself was down to about 92% sure he was straight. That number was sinking at an alarming rate, as well.

Orlando didn't normally harbor any general hatred for Tuesdays, but as far as Tuesdays went, this one sucked out loud.

He put on the least gay of all the shirts in his closet - Liberace wouldn't have been caught dead in this one, but then again neither would someone like Bean, who was manly and resolutely heterosexual, which meant that while the shirt in question was only sort of gay, it was still gay, which was a problem he was willing to ignore - and went morosely out to his car. At least once he was on set, he wouldn't have to wear his sort-of-gay shirt.

Sitting at a stoplight three blocks from his house, it suddenly became apparent to him that Legolas? Was also very, very gay. And his costume was very, very gay. He let his head fall onto the steering wheel with a thump, and he sat there, eyes closed, pondering his fate until the light changed and he was startled from his very, very gay revelry by a whole lot of honking behind him.

He flipped the drivers off without even looking in the mirror, which he felt earned him back a few straight points, and drove the rest of the way to the set in his very, very gay shirt, and hoped he didn't get any gayer before he arrived.


When he stomped into the makeup trailer, Billy and Sean and Elijah were all hunched over cups of coffee, looking murderously grumpy, and Dom was cheerfully reading the newspaper out loud. He looked up and said, "Orli, mate, Liberace called and he wants - "

"Don't even say it," Orlando growled, and stomped over to his chair. "Liberace does not want my shirt back, because this shirt is absolutely not gay, and even if it was a little gay, it is not gay enough that Liberace would ever be caught dead in it. And how did you know that I was thinking about Liberace?"

Billy, Sean and Elijah had, by now, stopped looking murderously grumpy, and were all three wearing looks somewhere between utterly amused, utterly perplexed, and murderously grumpy, which would have been amusing on any other morning. But this was a particularly special gay sort of morning, and Orlando was not amused, especially because Dom was. He was staring at Orlando over his newspaper, and he looked 100% amused by this. "Natural instincts," Dom shrugged. "And excellent comic timing."

He also looked devastatingly and rakishly handsome, half-in and half-out of costume, and Orlando stood up, stomped over to Dom's chair, and kissed him, in part because he wanted to make sure he wasn't gay, and in part because if he kissed Dom, maybe Dom would stop sitting there looking like he wanted to be kissed by Orlando.

"I'm not gay," he said, when he finally removed his tongue from Dom's mouth. "I didn't enjoy that at all."

"That's a pity," Dom replied. "Because I enjoyed it a great deal."

"Argh," said Orlando, and busied himself with a cup of coffee and the makeup girl who wanted to glue his ears on. He absolutely didn't think about how soft Dom's mouth was, or how smooth his face was, freshly-shaven for the day's shoot. Absolutely not. He wasn't gay at all.

"Argh," Orlando said again. The hobbits all snickered. Bloody hobbits.


"I'm not gay," he said to Viggo as soon as he stepped on set. "But just to make sure, can I kiss you?"

"I heard your shirt escaped from Liberace's private wardrobe," Viggo said.

"Argh," Orlando said, and grabbed Viggo by the hair and stuck his tongue in Viggo's mouth.

Kissing Viggo was different than kissing Dom, because, well, beard. Aragorn's stubble was scratchy and strange but not entirely bad, mostly because it was soft and scratching an itch on Orlando's chin, which left his hands mercifully free to do other things, like ... grab Viggo's arse.

Viggo leapt away from him the moment that Orlando's fingers touched his arse, as though he'd been burned. Orlando was rather glad that he had, because Viggo's arse was nice, but he didn't have any interest in it whatsoever, damn his traitorous fingers with a mind of their own. "Still not gay?" Viggo inquired politely.

"I think my hands are possessed," Orlando replied. "And I'm still not gay, and you're still not King."

He huffed off in as manly a way as he could manage, given that he was huffing, and wearing elf ears, and carrying a bow. It was rather difficult, but he thought he'd managed okay. At least no one was laughing at him - within his hearing, at least.

If Tuesday was going to suck this hard, he wished it would do something particularly wicked with its tongue. As it was, Dom was the only person doing anything interesting with his tongue so far today, and that just made Orlando angry.


"If anyone," Orlando said, sitting down at their corner table in the pub. "If anyone says anything about Liberace, my shirt, or the fact that I kissed Viggo, I shall pour my beer on their heads. You wouldn't want me to waste a pint like that, would you all?"

Elijah snickered. Orlando glared. "That's an awful manly look you've got going on there, Orli," Dom said. Elijah snickered some more. Orlando contemplated dumping his entire pint on Dom's head, decided against it, and turned pointedly towards Bean, sitting across the table from him.

"Can I kiss you? It's purely for scientific research." Everyone gathered around the table - all four hobbits, Viggo, Karl - erupted into laughter. Bean simply stood up, walked over to Orlando and pulled him from his seat. One arm around Orlando's waist, he dipped Orlando nearly to the floor, kissed him thoroughly, and dropped him on his ass, before taking his seat again. The table continued to roar with laughter.

"My shirt isn't gay," Orlando mumbled.


Orlando was absolutely, 100% certain that his ceiling wasn't gay. It was white, and fairly boring except for the little stucco bits that stuck out in places, and in the corner by the door, the ceiling was starting to crumble a wee bit from water damage. It was totally unexceptional, and it was a very, very straight ceiling.

Orlando, on the other hand, was lying on his back on his bed, fully clothed, staring at his straight ceiling and feeling terribly gay.

This was becoming a problem. A whole day, and he was still thinking that he'd like to shag men. He'd hoped it would be like those mornings where you wake up, and you felt kind of like shite, because you're hungover or you stayed up too late, or something like that, but after a couple of hours of being awake and about a dozen cups of coffee, you feel something resembling normal. You know, he'd woken up gay, but by lunchtime, he would have been very straight again, ta very much for asking, go on about your business now.

Alas, that was not to be. Still feeling very gay, lying here, staring at his ceiling.

It was, Orlando reasoned, really only his shirts that were gay. His pants weren't particularly gay. He didn't drink fruity drinks with layered liquors in them. His ceiling was straight, and his - what was that word, the thing you put on the bed, the duvet, right, that's it - duvet was dark blue. Terribly manly, except for the fact that he knew that it was called a duvet, which might or might not be a sign of impending gayness.

The trouble, Orlando figured, is that he was awfully fond of women, too. Mirry, for example, had a particularly nice rack, and he'd sleep with Cate without a second thought if she'd offer. He liked girls, he liked women, and he wore gay shirts and enjoyed groping Viggo's ass.

There was no winning in this situation. Orlando fell asleep, still wearing his gay shirt, on top of his manly blue duvet and dreamt about tangoing with Bean.


Waking up from a dream about tangoing with Bean was not the exactly way Orlando wanted to start his second morning of being somewhat-but-not-entirely-and-nowhere-near-as-bad-as-Liberace-or-Elijah gay. But on the other hand, at least he knew where his sexuality stood today, right from the start, and Bean had led excellently while they were dancing. No crushed toes for Orlando.

He unearthed a reasonably straight (in that it wasn't pink, and there were no flowers printed on it) shirt, a pair of pants that he thought were clean, and drove himself cheerfully to the set.

"My shirt," he announced when he walked into the makeup trailer, "is absolutely not gay."

Then he kissed Dom square on the mouth, because he could and because he was partially gay. Billy fell off his chair. Sean made a noise that they'd previously classified as expressing "restrained shock and also coffee out the nose". Elijah looked up from his coffee and said, "That shirt is completely gay, Orli."

"Argh," Orlando said, and then he kissed Dom again, because he could.

feedback always welcome.