line_sal (line_sal) wrote in perfect_bloom,
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perfect_bloom

Challenge Fic: Once Upon A Time In Paris (Orlando Bloom/OFC – Rated PG – Part 1 of 2)

Title: Once Upon A Time In Paris

Rating: PG for now.

Pairing: Orlando Bloom/OFC

Author’s Note: This is slightly AU. :-)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Orlando Bloom. This is completely made up. That means fiction, people!

Feedback: I’d love some. I’m a complete feedback whore, and I’m not too proud to beg!

The Challenge:

Fandom:  Orlando Bloom   

Pairing (if any):  Orlando/OFC

Location:  anywhere

Three objects to be included: an Audrey Hepburn calendar, whiskey, the soundtrack to a musical

Any other specifics you want included: can't think of any

 

It was a warm afternoon. She had every window in the apartment opened to let in the warm spring breeze. The sounds of the Paris traffic floated up from the streets below, and every now and then the gauzy curtains would flutter and give her a quick view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead and went to her kitchen to get a glass of iced tea.

Coming back into the living room, she went to her stereo and turned on whatever CD was in the player. The music from Les Miserables began drowning out the honking horns of impatient Parisian drivers. Humming along to the music, she walked out onto to the tiny balcony facing the courtyard of her apartment building. The smell of flowers floated in the air and she took a deep breath before sitting down in the only chair there was room for on the balcony.

She took a sip of her iced tea and let her eyes wander around the courtyard. It looked like none of her neighbors were home. Except for the guy who was living right across from her. It looked like he, like her, had every window open, trying to get some air to flow through the apartment.

She had never met him before, but she had seen glimpses of him a few times. Only when he came and went. It seemed like he was away a lot, so she was kind of surprised to see that he was home at this time of the day.

Leaning back in her chair, she reached behind her for the book she knew was laying on the bookcase right inside the door. Finding it, she grabbed it, opened it on the page she had gotten to, and sighed before beginning to read.

Every once in a while, she would take a drink of the iced tea, the condensation on the glass leaving her fingers wet, when she turned the page in her book. She was lost in the story of vampires roaming the streets of New Orleans and Paris, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

Looking up, she saw something floating down from the apartment across from her, to land in the middle of the courtyard. Standing up, she looked down to see what is was, and found an Audrey Hepburn calendar laying in the ground. It had landed, opened on the month of July and the picture was a still from Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

A gust of wind hit the building, making every curtain flutter and something crashed in the apartment across from her.

“Damnit!” A male voice cursed, and she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips. The guy living in the other apartment appeared in the door to his balcony, a broken vase in his hand. He looked down, searching for something, and when he saw the calendar, his shoulders sank. She heard a deep sigh escape him, and she could only imagine that it was because he would have to climb down the stairs to get the calendar and then up again. It really was too hot to do anything remotely physical.

It was the first time she had gotten a real look at her mysterious neighbor. She saw longish, dark, curly hair. It was streaked with gold, from the sun she assumed. He was relatively tall, but then so where most men, compared to her. He was tanned, had olive skin, and she thought she saw deep, dark, brown eyes. He looked exotic.

Although he had been cursing, she also noticed that he had a soft voice. And there was an accent. English? So he was another foreigner in this big French city. She wondered what he did for a living. Looking at him, she decided he had to be some sort of artist. Not a painter though. She didn’t see any stains on his clothes. And not a sculptor. There was no dust on him either.

By now he had made it down to the courtyard and had picked up his calendar. She noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes. She saw long beautiful feet poking out of the old, loose-hanging jeans he was wearing.

Smiled to herself and returned to her book.

*****

Later that evening, when the temperature had finally dropped, even if just a little bit, she had just finished eating a salad and she was standing by the French doors in her living room, looking out at the city, lit up by millions of twinkling lights. The Eiffel Tower in the distance rose up from the ground like a golden rocket, twinkling and sparkling making the city look like something out of a fairytale. On the Seine, boat of twinkling boat sailed by, music, laughter and chatter floating up to reach her, along with the occasional smell of fresh coffee and pastry from then coffee shop next door.

This was why she loved Paris. No matter what time of day, or year, there was always something fairytale–like about the city. It truly was the city of lights, of romance and of adventure. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in the world, and she counted her blessings, that she had been offered a job here. 

She was standing there, taking in everything the city had to offer, when there was a knock on her door. She frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she didn’t really know a lot of people outside of work, yet. She really hoped it wasn’t something work related.

She let go of the railing, and made her way slowly toward the door. She removed the chain and unlocked it, before opening the door.

Outside, in the hallway was her mystery neighbor. Surprise must have been obvious on her face, because he smiled shyly and scuffed his shoes on the tiled floor, before running a hand through his wild hair. It looked like most of it had escaped the ponytail it had been in earlier, and it still looked damp from the heat earlier. The curls where even more out of control than they had been when she had seen him across the courtyard.

“Can I help you?” She asked, still surprised he was at her door. He seemed to keep mostly to himself whenever he was home.

“Hi! Uh…yes.” He ran a hand through his hair again, and even more curls escaped their bond. “My freezer is broken, and I really wanted to have a glass of this whisky. This heat is driving me mad, and I was wondering if maybe you have some ice?” As he mentioned the whisky, he held up a bottle, shaking it a bit.

She decided to be bold. He was intriguing and, to be honest, quite sexy in his rumpled state.

“I do have some ice, and I’ll let you have some, if you’ll share that with me.” She said, pointing to the bottle.

He looked relieved when she spoke,

“Oh good, you speak English. I was afraid I’d have to attempt having a conversation in French.” He laughed self-deprecatingly and looked at her with a smile.

She smiled back, and opened the door wider to let him in.

“So you suck at French too? Good to know I’m not the only foreigner still struggling with the language.”

She showed him into the living room, while she went to get some glasses and fill a bucket with ice in the kitchen.

When she came back, she found him standing where she had been just a few minutes ago, looking out the French doors to the city below.

“This is an amazing view.” He said, sounding almost breathy. She smiled, knowing the view had the same effect on her.

“I know. I can stand there for hours, just lost in the atmosphere.” She handed him one of the glasses and took a seat on the couch.

He joined her after a few seconds. Grabbing the tongs, he caught a few ice cubes and divided them into both glasses. Then he opened the bottle of whisky and poured a healthy shot in each.

Lifting his glass, he held it up and caught her eye, waiting for her to do the same.

“To Paris!” He said, and she followed suit. Clinking the tumblers together, they smiled at each other and took a sip of the amber liquid.

She felt the heat of the alcohol rushing through her body, while at the same time, the ice cooled her. It was definitely a good whisky, and she loved how it made her blood pump faster through her veins, so she quickly took another sip. She caught him looking at her, and she felt a flush creeping up from her chest to her cheeks.

“I’m Orlando, by the way.” He said, laughing a little.

She couldn’t help but join him. It was a little late to think of introductions, since she had already invited him into her apartment.

“I’m Julia.”

*****

Let me know what you think. :-)

Part 2 will be posted later today, or early tomorrow.

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