Title: Novice Chronicles: 12/15: Terms of Use
Author: Brigantine
e-mail: gidgetpup@netzero.com
Pairing:  Vig/Bean/Dave
Rating: NC-17
Warning:  AU.  Consensual bondage. 
Disclaimer: Not happening.  Didn't happen.  Won't happen
Summary:  Viggo has a very busy evening.  Sean is grumpy.

#########################

Fair Warning:  I had initially intended to handle this chapter in a fairly serious fashion.  
As it happened, however, I was mildly inebriated on that evening when I finally got down 
to writing the bulk of this.  The Bunny was pretty sozzled as well, and kept singing 
selections of the soundtrack from "The Little Mermaid," which can be awfully 
distracting.  In a terrific leap of faith I've let things lie mostly as they fell.  Just the same, 
if I never hear "Part of your world" again it'll be too soon.

*************************

Thursday night, 9:18, give or take:

Viggo, the human sex toy.  At the moment he feels more like a teddy bear, but officially 
it's Viggo the human sex toy.  This entire situation should be ridiculous, except that it 
feels too good, and Viggo's not worrying about his pride.  The mansion's crew is up in the 
Pit, in various states of sprawl and/or undress, chattering happily and watching "Army of 
Darkness."  Viggo listens partly to the conversations going on around him and partly to 
the movie.  Currently the hero, Ash, is stuck at the bottom of a very deep watery pit with 
an extremely unpleasant Evil Dead thing.  Viggo's seen the movie a half-dozen times, and 
he knows perfectly well what's coming next, so it doesn't bother him when Elijah yelps, 
"I love this part with the chainsaw trick!"

"Army of Darkness" is the second film of the evening.  At some point during the last 
minutes of their previous film, "Lobster Man from Mars," Viggo washed up against 
Miranda's lap, and now she's using the top of his head upon which to rest her beer.  A 
young fellow named Josh is draped over Viggo's belly.  Josh is very blond and green-
eyed and charms with a sleepy southern smile, and he's wearing nothing but a very nice 
blue rhinestone slave collar.  Earlier tonight Josh was thoroughly fucked into boneless 
bliss by Billy who, according to Dave, adopted him on Ian's advice.  Billy is firm but 
kind, which is exactly what Josh needs, but apparently wasn't getting from his previous 
master.  Viggo has a feeling he doesn't know the half of it, and isn't sure he's ready to.  
Josh sighs and teases gently at the sensitive inside of Viggo's left thigh, making him want 
to fidget, but he's trying not to upset Miranda's Anchorsteam. 

Miranda notices him not-twitching and chuckles.  She catches Billy's eye.  "Hey, you 
want to claim your boy?  I think he's feeling neglected."

Viggo can feel Josh smiling against his belly, feel the flutter of his eyelashes on his skin.  
Billy motions to his boy, drawing him over with gentle command.  "Come along then, 
laddie, let's get you some proper attention, shall we?"  Which Viggo translates as either 
Josh getting slowly and thoroughly fucked again, or spending some time with his face 
happily in Billy's crotch--or possibly both.

Josh happily crawls toward his gentle master, and Viggo stretches carefully, noting out of 
the corner of his eye Eric, who's been far too energetic tonight.  Orlando might attest to 
that, except that Orlando has collapsed over Dominic, who appears to be half involved in 
the movie and half thinking of something wicked to do to Orlando that won't inspire Eric 
to break him in half afterward.

In addition to his earlier rendezvous with Orlando, Eric has already buried himself to the 
hilt inside Viggo once tonight, draping him comfortably over one of the big green bean 
bags in the corner and bringing Viggo off  as though the world was ending, and really, 
thank God for that.  Still, Eric, Viggo thinks, needs to get himself a more strenuous 
hobby, because surely no one should have this much energy in him at this point--Eric is 
asking Miranda's pardon and slinging Viggo the human sex toy over one brawny shoulder 
and wandering off into a dark corner of the mansion's converted attic.  Viggo grunts at 
the shoulder digging into his abdomen, but doesn't protest.  He's the human sex toy.  A 
sex toy doesn't protest.   He just drapes agreeably over his latest user's shoulder and puffs 
at the dark blond forelock that keeps falling into his eyes and gets in the way of his seeing 
Ash brandish his shotgun and yell for 'Who's next?'  Viggo makes a mental note that he 
really needs a hair cut.

Eric positions Viggo so that they can both still see the movie, orders him head down, 
bottom up, slathers a generous amount of lube onto Viggo, and plunges pretty much 
unceremoniously into him.  Viggo grunts and his eyes water a bit at the push and the 
burn, but Eric's moving slowly, letting Viggo catch up, and it's not bad, really, though 
jeez Eric is *strong,* and his fingers are going to leave a second layer of  bruises on 
Viggo's hips if he doesn't back off a little.  Still, Viggo makes no protest, and Eric makes 
up for the future bruises by consistently hitting that nice sweet spot inside Viggo, and 
pretty soon Viggo is panting rhythmically and his eyes are closing to concentrate on how 
good Eric feels, and at this moment Viggo wonders where the hell the last shred of his 
modesty disappeared to, 'cause this is the second time tonight he's been fucked basically 
in public.  There are nine people in this room besides Viggo.  One of them is fucking him 
really, really well, and the other eight can surely hear it over the movie.  If there were 
commercial breaks any or all of these people could glance over and spend that time 
watching Eric fuck Viggo very, ohhhh, very thoroughly...  *Judas priest.*  Eric comes 
hard and brings Viggo with him, his large hand surprisingly deft, rather than forceful, on 
Viggo's cock.  Viggo tries not to yell, because sex toys don't yell, but damn, that felt very 
fine--surreal, given the circumstances, but very fine.  Moments later Eric sends him for a 
wash cloth from the kitchen, and helps Viggo clean up after himself, then gives his 
backside a smart pat that nearly sends him reeling, and aims him back down into the 
media circle, where Elijah grabs his hand.

Elijah pulls Viggo down, lays him out on the carpet against a giant red bean bag, and 
snuggles up, his head on Viggo's chest as they both watch the movie.  Ash has gone in 
search of the Necronomicon.  Everybody in the room knows he's screwed up memorizing 
the magic binding spell, and they're waiting happily for the upcoming fight with Ash's 
evil twin and all the tiny Ash clones.  Elijah begins rolling Viggo's balls very gently in 
one hand, and softly petting his cock, apparently with no clear intention of anything, just 
idly messing about because he hasn't got any popcorn to keep himself busy.  Elijah is 
careful, and it feels rather nice at the moment, given that Viggo has just experienced that 
very satisfying episode with Eric, and his brain is a bit woozy, and his body is relaxed, 
but pretty soon Elijah's messing is going to get frustrating.  Viggo will just have to deal 
with it.  Sex toys don't get frustrated.  They get used--which is apparently what Dom is 
thinking, as he slinks over, wriggling up between Viggo's ankles.  Eric has led Orlando 
away into a nest of big bean bags and is feeding him Cheetos.  If Dominic had any plans 
for Orlando earlier, they're dust now, and he's turned his attention to Viggo.  Elijah bats at 
Dominic's head.  "Hey.  You're blocking the movie."

"Lemme borrow the sex toy, Lij."

"I'm playing with him."

Dominic sighs.  "Okay, if you're playing with him, can I play with you?"

Elijah grins and nods, and shortly thereafter is contentedly pantsless, while Dom rests his 
chin over Elijah's left side, so that he can watch the movie while molesting Elijah from 
behind.  This, Dave seems to feel, is a waste of a perfectly good sex toy, and though 
Elijah protests at the loss of his warm pillow, Dave outranks him, and takes Viggo away 
to play with him.  Dave settles himself back in his bean bag seat, telling Viggo to kneel 
between his legs.  Dave opens his fly and makes his order quite plain.  Viggo doesn't 
mind.  He's been here before with Dave, but only got to make half-work of it, and Viggo 
is by nature a thorough person.  He obliges with quiet gusto. 

Dave watches the movie and calmly strokes Viggo's hair as he works, taking Dave as 
deep into his mouth as he can, and being careful of his teeth.  Viggo has never deep-
throated.  It's a learned thing, and though he is enthusiastic, Viggo is not a natural talent 
for that particular skill.  Dave doesn't seem to mind.  Viggo knows that enthusiasm makes 
up for an awful lot, and it isn't long before Dave is breathing hard and making quiet, 
anticipatory grunts, trying to keep his volume down, and then he's releasing with a jerk 
and a gasp into Viggo's mouth, letting his head loll back in satisfaction while Viggo 
blinks and swallows and coughs, just a little.  Ordinarily this is where Dave would praise 
Viggo for a job well done, but sex toys don't get those sorts of assurances.  However, the 
good sex toy does get an affectionate caress of his scalp, and Dave advises him to get 
himself a drink of water.  Sex toy Viggo has been busy tonight. 

Viggo returns from the kitchen to sit down at Dave's feet with his legs curled under him.  
Miranda is giggling as Liv braids her hair and not entirely discreetly reaches down to 
playfully grope her from time to time through her t-shirt.  Orlando has somehow 
managed to strip himself naked without anybody besides Eric noticing him while he was 
at it, and now he sits in Eric's lap with Eric's big hand gently kneading his vitals, both of 
them chuckling at the really cool special effects of the fight with the skeleton army, as 
though Eric isn't rolling Orlando's family jewels steadily between his thumb and his 
fingers, and staining him faintly orange with the residue from all those Cheetos.

Karl asks Dave if he's finished with the sex toy for now, Dave says he is, and Viggo's led 
off to the raised area that is the kitchen, where Karl bends him over the kitchen table, 
slicks him up and shoves in wordlessly, while Ash's car gets blown up and his girlfriend 
has become one of the living dead.  Karl is precise, but takes his time, builds Viggo up 
and then lets him come down a little, and does this until Viggo is ready to shriek, but he 
doesn't, because sex toys don't do that.  Viggo is, in fact, more than a little surprised that 
he's got a third go in him at this point, but aside from his gratification that he's got more 
stamina than he's given himself credit for, he really wishes Karl would get on with it, 
because Viggo's balls are aching, and his cock is wet, and he's going to explode if a 
certain someone doesn't--and then Karl does get on with it, stroking Viggo and tickling 
him just the way Viggo likes it, and dear god it's good, really good, and messy as hell, but 
it's worth it, Karl muffling his groans in Viggo's back, and Viggo biting his lip and 
burying his face in the palms of his hands, so no one will hear him yelling, though they 
probably do.

Karl and Viggo clean themselves up quietly.  Viggo is set to cleaning up the mess he 
made on the linoleum under the table.  As he's finishing up under there and wondering 
whether sex toys do windows, Billy pats him gently on the bottom and leads him over to 
where Josh waits, kneeling obediently, if casually, and Billy gives Viggo two big green 
pillows and tells him to lie down and make himself comfortable, and that one pillow goes 
under the back of Viggo's hips.  Viggo maneuvers so that he can watch the end of the 
movie, and Josh crawls over and drapes himself over a blue pillow between Viggo's legs 
and begins to very gently mouth the tip of Viggo's exhausted cock.  Viggo would warn 
him that nothing exciting is going to happen any time soon, if at all tonight, but sex toys 
don't say things like that, so he lies back and enjoys the gentle licking and sucking and 
the soft warmth of Josh's mouth, soon realizing that this is all Josh wants; to quietly play 
with Viggo and to please him, and it does feel very nice, especially the part where Josh 
nudges his knees open and spreads his cheeks and licks delicately at Viggo's sore hole.  
Josh has got a soft touch, and no one has to know if Viggo is closing his eyes and 
imagining someone else's blond hair tickling the insides of his thighs, and someone else's 
warm tongue soothing his bottom or licking daintily at his sensitive cock.  It doesn't 
matter that he's fantasizing about a different pair of green eyes contemplating his 
nakedness and where to lick next.  After all, he is a sex toy, and sex toys exist to be quiet 
and to be played with, and just now that's marvelously fine with Viggo.

~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in the wee hours:

Viggo wakes into darkness, in the big bed in Dave's studio.  Somewhere along the line 
apparently Viggo fell asleep, the movie party broke up, and now Dave is sleeping 
soundly next to him, and the mansion is quiet.  For a few fuzzy moments Viggo wonders 
how he got here.  Then he remembers a slow, gentle round with Billy over in a shadowed 
corner of the Pit, while Josh slept on the carpeted floor, his cheek pillowed on Dom's 
thigh.  Viggo remembers thinking how very gentle Dom can be, when he thinks no one is 
looking; the way he carded his fingers through Josh's hair and stroked his bare shoulder 
as he dozed.  Viggo remembers Billy's warm, remarkably strong hands, and a gradual 
build; a verging on the edge of pain after having already been vigorously fucked three 
times sort of build, to a final, moaning release that felt wonderful, in an almost agony, 
hurts so good kind of way, and quite finished him somewhere during the first half of "The 
Mummy," the new one with Brendan Fraser who has, Billy said, the nicest eyes.

Viggo offered himself to be used all night, according to someone else's whim, someone 
else's timing, and thinking about it now, it was plain fantastic.  It was what, he 
understands finally, he's always wanted; to be used just like that, knowing he might not 
get what he thinks he'll get, but that it will satisfy his need, whatever it is, because 
ultimately he can trust the people he's with.  He can trust these people with anything.  His 
body.  His freedom.  His pleasure.  His pain, too.  He trusts them with his dignity, in that 
moment when his bare ass is in the air and he's getting thoroughly reamed by someone 
not entirely of his choosing, and he is at his most abject in a room full of onlookers.  That 
Eric--built like a walking wall, fucks like a steam train Eric--must have lifted him off of 
the carpeted floor afterward and carried him so carefully downstairs that he did not wake 
from it, and then helped Dave put him to bed--that, too, is what he's always wanted.

Somehow Michael recognized that in Viggo right from the beginning, and he turned it 
into something to be used as a weapon, an extraordinary convenience to abuse and to 
hurt.  Pearls before a swine, isn't that more or less how the phrase goes?  But knowledge, 
they say, is power, and now Viggo claps his hand over his mouth, trying to keep from 
waking Dave, because he has started laughing in the dark, and he can't seem to stop.  He 
doesn't especially want to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night, 7:23:

Sean is wholly starkers and slung over a spanking horse in Dave's studio.

Not much on preliminaries tonight.  In spite of his best efforts to be reasonable Sean 
arrived at the mansion moody and growly, terrorized Orlando and three stalwart members 
of the Cal. State Saint Arquette varsity rugby team just by standing there frowning at 
nobody in particular, and Dave pretty much took one appraising look at him and hied him 
upstairs, quickly, away from the civilians.

Sean's current position could be considered a mite undignified, but he's safe in the 
privacy of  Dave's room, and anyroad he's in no mood to fret over it.  He's not sure he'd 
give a flying fuck right now if the door were open and Dave were selling tickets to 
interested strangers for a good gander at Sean's pretty pink bum.  Damn if he can shake 
this black mood he's in, and if Dave's planning to give him a proper whipping and drag 
this anger out of him by force, that's fine with Sean.  His ankles are cuffed to the legs on 
one side of the horse, his belly rests across the padded bench of it, and his wrists have 
been cuffed to the legs on the other side.  He's not bent over so badly that he's dizzy, 
thank heaven, 'cause he hates that, but just the same he's in no position to argue with 
anything Dave does tonight, and he sure as hell isn't going anywhere.  Mostly he wishes, 
first, that his breezy bits weren't dangling so conspicuously between his legs, 'cause if 
he's getting that beating tonight he'd prefer his dainties tucked considerably more out of 
the way, and secondly he wishes that Dave would fucking get on with it, the bastard.

Now Dave has stepped up behind him, rubbing his bum nicely, and here come fingers 
and lube, not nearly as warm as Sean might have wanted, but at least things are moving, 
and Dave pushes in something that feels more like a large dildo than a plug, and though it 
stretches and stings a little going in, it's not bad, until Dave *turns it on,* and Sean jolts 
and curses, while Dave chuckles behind him, reaches between his legs to grasp Sean's 
cock and presses one finger into the folds of his foreskin, circles the sensitive head, and 
draws out Sean's interest, as easily as that.  Sean can't help but make a small pleased 
noise, 'cause it does feel good, but now Dave's got him by all his bits, and he's snapping 
on a snug little cock ring.  Sean says something less than respectful, and earns himself a 
rev up in the vibrating dildo, which startles him, and worse, further arouses him before 
Dave clicks it back down again.  Sean bites back a particularly erudite comment as the fit 
of the cock ring verges on the outright uncomfortable, and he wonders gloomily where 
the hell his simple beating has got to.

Dave is standing next to Sean, lightly tracing his fingers over Sean's sides.  It tickles, but 
not really, and Sean wants to lean into the touch to make it more real, make it feel right, 
but Dave's having none of that and pulls his hands back, a tease, as Sean can only lean so 
far, and that's not much.  Dave keeps it up, trailing softly back and forth, up and down 
Sean's sides, over his back, across his shoulders.  Sean is squirming.  It feels like spider 
webs dragged across his skin, tickles the tiny peach-fuzz hairs, and he keeps wanting to 
stretch out the muscles just under his skin, rub up against something.  Sean gives a small 
growl of frustration, twitching his shoulders.  At least his annoyance has caused the cock 
ring to become a bit more bearable as his arousal fades.  It won't go completely, thanks to 
the damned, okay, it's a bit nice, really, dildo, but at least Sean isn't feeling choked off 
anymore, though--ohhh, that's lovely, Dave running his hands, all warm and callused and 
strong, over Sean's skin properly now, slow, and light, but not all buggy like before.  
Sean thinks to correct himself that spiders are arachnids, not bugs, wonders how a stupid 
thought like that got in here, and realizes belatedly that the damn cock ring has gone tight 
on him again, or rather, he's gone tight inside of the ring, and it occurs to Sean that an 
orgasm right about now would be great.  He's not desperate for it yet, but he wouldn't 
mind.

Dave's hands are roaming very pleasantly up over his back and then over his bum, and 
then down--mmmmm, pressing that sensitive rise just between his hole and his balls, and 
lord, but that's good, and then Dave's caressing Sean's balls, the ruthless bastard, but 
Jesus it feels just right, doesn't it, and wouldn't it be fucking brilliant if he'd unsnap the 
blasted ring, he's right there after all, and stroke Sean off to something blinding and 
extremely loud?  But Dave's hands are moving away, and Sean grimaces at the urge to 
beg Dave to bring his hands the hell back here.  When Dave reaches underneath Sean's 
chest and lightly toys with his left nipple it's fantastic, which is weird, since it's just a 
nipple, but there it is, fantastic, and when Dave's other hand wanders into Sean's hair and 
feathers over his scalp the combination thrills him almost breathless.  Dave is standing 
directly in front of Sean,  and he finds himself staring at Dave's crotch and entertaining 
all sorts of perverted ideas which, apparently, Dave can mind-read, because Dave 
unbuttons his ratty jeans, pulls out his beautiful, rosy staff of a cock and offers it to Sean, 
who goes after it as though it's a damned lolly, in spite of an affronted voice in the back 
of his head asking him where the hell his pride has got to, but the other, happily perverted 
voice is much louder, and Sean's tongue toys ambitiously with the slick crown of Dave's 
warm shaft.  He wants Dave's cock tonight for reasons he may or may not ever sort out, 
but whatever they might be he wants this desperately, and if those strangers who bought 
tickets to get a look at Sean's charming pink arse want to come round and watch him suck 
Dave off as well, they're fucking welcome.

Dave is thrusting slowly and gently up into Sean's mouth, giving him some help, and 
Sean's having a fine time, just concentrating on what he's doing; the way Dave tastes, the 
way his skin feels in Sean's mouth, how the head of his cock fits just right behind Sean's 
teeth so that his tongue can get at it; and how blessed gorgeous that vibrating dildo is 
working in his backside, though he's got a feeling he's going to hit sensation overload on 
that pretty soon, and the cock ring is killing him in the nicest possible way.  Dave pulls 
out and away, and Sean catches himself making an awfully undignified whimpery sound, 
but screw it, he wants Dave back--ohhhhh, but the big, wiggly dildo is coming out, so 
smooth and lovely as it passes through the tender skin of his hole, and now good Christ, 
thank you, yes, Dave's beautiful rosy staff of a cock is going in, lubed and warm, and 
Sean is wide open and relaxed, except for that rotten ring, but Dave is having him slow 
and easy and thorough, so it's all right, Sean supposes, and he moans unreservedly, 
spurred on further by the delicious scratch of denim against his backside, just the way 
Dave knows he likes it, and all the discordant noise in him is reeling out in the deep, even 
sounds of a need being met at last. 

His backbone is stretched, his body loose and rapidly coming unraveled, but there's that 
stupid bloody ring around his aching bits.  Sean begs shamelessly for Dave to take it off, 
begs him *please,* for the love of heaven, *please,* and Dave doesn't miss a quickening 
beat when he reaches around Sean's sweating hip to unsnap the infernal little contraption, 
and Sean lets out a relieved yell, because he's immediately there, right there on the edge 
where the rush and burn racing through his body split the difference between ecstasy and 
agony, until the pounding Dave's giving him now shoves Sean decidedly over into the 
ecstasy side of things, and he's howling while his body racks and shudders into a 
beautiful sort of coming apart, and he feels Dave finishing inside him, hot and hard and 
strong, his fingers fierce on Sean's hips.

Sean is sweaty and boneless and still softly moaning out his breath when Dave staggers 
forward and plops down on the floor in front of him, jeans still unbuttoned and his lovely, 
rosy sated cock unashamedly draped through the gaping fly.  Stains of lube darken the 
denim to either side, and the collar of his old green t-shirt is damp with sweat.  

"Y'know I fuckin' hate you, right?" Sean scowls ineffectually.

Dave grins and reaches up to ruffle Sean's hair into an even worse mess.  "Yeah, mate.  It 
was brilliant for me, too."  He leans up and kisses Sean on the top of the head.  "Now.  
You set to tell me what the hell had you downright ropeable tonight?"

Sean hesitates, finally allowing, "I might feel more like sharin' if I weren't arse-in-the-
air."

"Mmm.  Fussy."  Dave shucks his jeans entirely and unbuckles Sean's left wrist.  "Pity.  I 
quite like you this way."

Sean sniggers.  "I really do hate you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday, 11:56 p.m.: 

Sean slouches in one of the chairs on the flagstone patio outside his dining room.  
Ophelia has taken up a sort of vigil next to his elbow. Sean is nursing a brandy and 
ruining the taste of it with cigarette smoke.  He's grateful for tonight's session with Dave.  
It didn't solve anything, but it helped to ease his anger and clear his head, reminding him 
that sometimes what we need comes to us in unexpected ways.  Sean hopes that will 
prove true in the very near future.  He's not sure how much longer he can stand the 
frustration.

He's been trying to find Viggo since Tuesday, and Ian is out of town.  Sean wasted hours 
mooching around the university art department hoping to catch Viggo either between 
classes or at his office hour, only to be told by the department secretary that his classes 
are held Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and Sean had so far been there at all the wrong 
times.  In desperation Sean has spent his lunch hours at the Museum of Modern Art, 
hoping he might run into Viggo there, but he's come up empty--and he's come up luckless 
for three days running, in spite of showing up Wednesday to catch Viggo at what should 
have been his office hour.  So far he's resisted the temptation to lurk outside Vig's 
classroom, but just the same he feels like a great, mooning teenager trying to meet his 
latest crush in the hall between classes, and it's getting bloody well under his skin. 

Twice while Sean was stooging around the art buildings checking for any sign of Viggo 
and feeling like a third rate spy he was certain he sensed the sleek, handsome man who 
had invaded Viggo's home ground.  It wasn't something Sean could pin down, but it 
seemed he could feel the man, smell him, sure as the rotten tang of old blood.  Sean 
scritches Ophelia behind the ears, trying to calm himself and think of something besides 
clenched fists and the feel of cartilage crunching beneath his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday morning, 7:13 a.m. PST:

Dave is on the telephone, fidgeting in a kitchen chair and waiting for Ian, somewhere in 
Chicago, to answer his question.

Ian rubs at his eyes.  He spent far too much of last night blowing off steam in a Polish 
pub full of enthusiastic graduate students.  It seemed like such a good idea at the time.  
"This week?  Yes, Sean came by to drop off a very nice book he had acquired on my 
behalf.  Unfortunately I missed the chance to see him, as I was required at a department 
meeting.  David, is something wrong?"

"You told me at the beginning of all of this that in his past Viggo was used very badly.  
What happened, Ian?  Exactly.  I've put it off, but think I need to know."

"Oh dear."  Ian thinks it over, still unsettled by Viggo's confirmation on Monday 
afternoon that a certain very unwelcome individual has reappeared.  He apologizes, "I'm 
not certain how much of it is my story to tell."

Dave makes a frustrated noise.  "That's what Sean said last night!  Said someone had 
mistreated a friend of his, but he didn't know the details, and anyway he didn't think it 
was his story to tell.  Bloody reticent Brit!  And you're no better.  You let me help you 
with Josh, now tell me about Viggo.  For heaven's sake Ian, I am *fucking* Vig!  Tell me 
what happened!"

"You're assuming this friend of Sean's is indeed Viggo.  Are you certain?"

"Sean said he stumbled into this friend being hassled by someone who turned out to be an 
ex lover, whom he hadn't seen in a long time, and wanted nothing more to do with.  Sean 
then confided that he's sure the ex lover once treated his friend, and I quote, '…like shite 
when he had 'im,' adding that he, Sean, would very much appreciate the opportunity to 
acquaint this particular villain with the consequences of his actions.  That's all he'd tell 
me.  It may be all he knows, but come on Ian, doesn't it sound familiar?"

Ian flops backward onto the hotel bed.  Viggo mentioned Monday afternoon that 
someone had walked in on him and Michael, and interrupted what might have been a 
very bad situation, but he did not reveal who, and Ian didn't think to ask.  He assumed it 
was one of Viggo's graduate students.  Ian mentally kicks himself.  He must be losing his 
touch.

"Hey, you still there?"  Dave prods at Ian's silence.

"Sorry, yes.  Ehm… I don't know everything, David.  Viggo never told me all of what 
happened.  I don't think he's told anybody, actually.  David, have you asked Viggo about 
this?"

"Sort of.  He was cagey about it."

Ian insists kindly, "It has to be his choice, my friend."

Dave gives a defeated little groan over the connection.  

Ian asks, in that voice he uses when he already suspects the answer, "David, why are you 
so desperate to know the lurid details?"

"Because I'm hoping they won't be as horrible as my own imagination is making them out 
to be."

"Ah," Ian says sadly.  

"Oh God," Dave groans.  "You really don't know, do you."

"Let them handle it, David," Ian advises thoughtfully.  There are important things 
happening here, he knows it now.  He's missed the clues somehow, just by a breath, 
shown himself a tad slow off the mark somewhere, but that's all right.  This has never 
been about him.

"Vig and Sean?  What are you saying, Ian, just forget about what that fella might have 
done to Viggo and leave the universe to work it out between the three of them?"

"Precisely, my boy.  What have we been working for, David?  What power, after all is 
said and done, have you been trying to help them find?"

"Whatever was already there," Dave admits.

"At some point," Ian reminds him, "all of this was bound to be taken out of our hands.  It 
may be happening rather sooner than I expected."


--tbc--