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He told himself he was merely curious. He'd never paid attention to Elijah's eyes when he slept, and he thought he'd noticed everything there was to know about the young man. Much to his embarrassment and dismay. But ever since Dom mentioned that Elijah slept with his eyes open, it's all he can think about. That and what other times Elijah may not fully close his eyes. Other times Viggo's not about to admit even to himself he's imagined on more than one occasion, played out like his own private porno on a perpetual loop in his mind.
So obsessed was he with wanting to see Elijah's not-quite-closed eyes, he finally gave in to the devil on his shoulder that gleefully encouraged him to go spy on his friend while he napped in his trailer, coaxing and whispering that it would be easy to do; no one would know. And seemingly without any power to stop them, his legs began to carry him around the far side of the rows of trailers, down to the one marked Frodo, sliding down the narrow aisle until he could lever himself up to get a good view through the back window.
Except Elijah wasn't sleeping. And while it was painfully obvious what Elijah was doing, it was also fairly clear that even in that he didn't fully close his eyes. While Viggo stared, transfixed at one of his fantasies made real, he suddenly realized those eyes were not only more fully open but were looking directly at him. And Elijah's hand didn't miss a beat.
Viggo bit back a moan, tried to will himself to get down, to at least look away. But his legs held fast and his eyes refused to move. But when Elijah finally came, his eyes never once leaving Viggo's, Viggo finally deflated, his feet sliding back down to the ground, his mind desperately trying to think of something to say, some excuse he could give that might seem even half-way plausible.
As he started to slink away, Elijah's voice could clearly be heard from inside, a sharp "Hey!" followed by something hard hitting the window. Viggo could feel the blood rushing to his face, the blush probably deeper than the crimson red of Boromir's costume, and he closed his eyes wishing he could be anywhere but here. He only vaguely heard a trailer door opening, only half registered the sound of footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, before a hand took a firm grip on his shoulder and spun him around. But when he opened his eyes, he wasn't met with derision or anger. There was a softness in Elijah's expression, a calm, inquisitive look in his eyes, as if he was searching for something in Viggo, some answer he didn't need words to find.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to peep and run?"
Viggo couldn't seem to force sound out of his throat. He stood helplessly mute, knowing his eyes betrayed him but unable to shutter his thoughts.
But then Elijah smiled, gently at first then growing into a full grin as he grabbed hold of Viggo's sleeve, walking backwards and pulling Viggo with him.
"C'mon. I think it's time we talked."
A small voice in Viggo's head tried to give him a way out, fed him every doubt and worry, every excuse he'd ever given himself why his feelings for Elijah were wrong. But Viggo focused on the man in front of him, on the hopeful expression in his eyes, and deliberately and forcefully shut the voice up.