CeeCee
New Yorker
Disclaimer: Don't know them, don't own them, wouldn't be here if I did. Not making any money off this.
Rating: Eh. PG 13 for potty mouthed Boys.
A/N: This story started life as a five minute writing excerise one day when I was bored out of my mind. To that effect I'd like to thank SG and Drea for letting me shamelessly steal their bit. And to the PLEBA girls for being themselves and sharing the lurv. This story has not been betaed or spell checked so if it bugs ya, please don't read it. I'm not in a postion to run a spell checker without crashing my comp. And finally, this is a U2 not as U2 story, so there won't be any drooms, guitars, basses, or microphones and I'm using their real names. So if you're looking for Rock Star U2, I'm sorry, you have the wrong fic. Please hit your back button and try your click again. Thank you.
He makes a startled noise as he wakes up in the darkness. His eyes scan the top of the inky blackness. He struggles to orient himself in time and space. Just when he thinks he's lost his mind, there's a snore to his left. He turns his head and can just make out the silouette of Paul as the other man shifts and rolls over, pulling the blankets back up.
He exhales, running a hand over his face. He lifts himself onto his elbows and looks around their tent. Lawrence is on his back, his forearm covering his eyes. His fingers are curled toward his palm, he sleeps soundly, short of an occassional hitch of breath as he moves.
Adam's bed is empty, but that's hardly a surprise when his ears pick up the faint sound of laughter and the popping of burning wood. He lays back down, watching Paul shove the blankets off of the bed.
Slowly his heart returns to normal, as does his breathing. He reaches for the container of water by his bed, bringing it up. Clinging precariously to the earthenware jar is a scorpion. "Move along, now." He says to it, picking itup and letting it go in the sand. He opens the cork and takes several long drinks of water. As he sets the contanier down once more, the tent flap is illuminated by a torch. Adam slips into the tent, scanning it with the light. Paul mutters and buries his face into the pillow. Lawrence has already covered his eyes, and only shifts.
Adam turns the light out, tossing it onto his bed, he strips the robes off. "Weren't waiting for me, were you?"
"No."
Adam hangs the clothes over one of the cross crossing lines. He puts a hand on his hip and looks at David. "Do you want to talk about it?"
David looks at him. Adam stands there, silouetted by the low burning lights around the camp. The silence streatchs, and someone passes by. Paul kicks his blankets ooff again, muttering something about the meaning of life being chocolate chip cookies. Adam snorts a bit in laughter, breaking the silence and the tension. David sits up, laughing silently. Adam moves and sits next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks again.
David shakes his head. "It was probably nothing, thank you anyway."
Adam nods, squeezing David's shoulder. "Don't stay up all night. There's only about three hours to sunrise." He gets up, walking to his own bed and getting in.
David watches him settle in for what is left of the night. For his part, he sits for some time, listneing ot Paul's snores and mutterings. Even in his sleep he doesn't shut up. he thinks affectionatly.
He decides sleep is now a lost cause. he gets up, cautiously making the bed bow, then dresses as quietly as possible. Paul imparts some nugget of wisdom to him in his sleep.
"Reg... blue. Very important." Paul says, still asleep. David raises an eyebrow, assuming that the dream version of himself will merely agree to Paul's sound advice about the colour blue.
David picks up his shaving kit and exits the tent. He wanders further from the camp than nessaccary, stopping where the work is going on. Then he sits in the sand, waiting for the sun to rise.
* * * * *
Irisi arrives at the Queen's privete chambers within the hour. Her preistess robes are carefully wrapped and perfumed. She knocks polietly on the Queen's door and enters as bid. She stops short, taking in the scene before her.
Teh Queen's attendents are scattered around the room, the Queen herself is seated in one of her chairs. And at her feet is a man on a seating coushin. She puzzles this breifly before moving toward the Queen.
Irisi looks at the man as she comes to greet the Queen. He looks up at her and she inhales sharply. It feels, to her, as if her connection to her Goddess has suddenly been pulled open. She can see, he's different, but those eyes are the same. His clothes are differentas well. But his essance is the same. She places her hand on her chest, steadying herself before looking at the Queen.
The Queen is watching her. SHe looks back. "We should talk."
The Queen rises, seperating them frm the rest of the room. Irisi takes a deep breath. "Tiri, where did you get him?"
"He came to me. He's been accused of stealing. He's asked to plead his case."
The two women look at the man once more. He's seated with intense interests. His fingertips follow veins in the polished stone. Irisi turns to her queen.
"You should set him free. I beleive he is important to your future."
"I thought I heard Isis tell me to pardon him and keep him as a servent."
"Then you must do it."
"Is it the right thing to do? For the kingdom."
"For your soul, my Queen. You must save this man."
"For my soul?"
"My Queen, he is the key to your immortality."
"Then I must explain this to my Pharoah."
"We will explain it to him."
Rating: Eh. PG 13 for potty mouthed Boys.
A/N: This story started life as a five minute writing excerise one day when I was bored out of my mind. To that effect I'd like to thank SG and Drea for letting me shamelessly steal their bit. And to the PLEBA girls for being themselves and sharing the lurv. This story has not been betaed or spell checked so if it bugs ya, please don't read it. I'm not in a postion to run a spell checker without crashing my comp. And finally, this is a U2 not as U2 story, so there won't be any drooms, guitars, basses, or microphones and I'm using their real names. So if you're looking for Rock Star U2, I'm sorry, you have the wrong fic. Please hit your back button and try your click again. Thank you.
He makes a startled noise as he wakes up in the darkness. His eyes scan the top of the inky blackness. He struggles to orient himself in time and space. Just when he thinks he's lost his mind, there's a snore to his left. He turns his head and can just make out the silouette of Paul as the other man shifts and rolls over, pulling the blankets back up.
He exhales, running a hand over his face. He lifts himself onto his elbows and looks around their tent. Lawrence is on his back, his forearm covering his eyes. His fingers are curled toward his palm, he sleeps soundly, short of an occassional hitch of breath as he moves.
Adam's bed is empty, but that's hardly a surprise when his ears pick up the faint sound of laughter and the popping of burning wood. He lays back down, watching Paul shove the blankets off of the bed.
Slowly his heart returns to normal, as does his breathing. He reaches for the container of water by his bed, bringing it up. Clinging precariously to the earthenware jar is a scorpion. "Move along, now." He says to it, picking itup and letting it go in the sand. He opens the cork and takes several long drinks of water. As he sets the contanier down once more, the tent flap is illuminated by a torch. Adam slips into the tent, scanning it with the light. Paul mutters and buries his face into the pillow. Lawrence has already covered his eyes, and only shifts.
Adam turns the light out, tossing it onto his bed, he strips the robes off. "Weren't waiting for me, were you?"
"No."
Adam hangs the clothes over one of the cross crossing lines. He puts a hand on his hip and looks at David. "Do you want to talk about it?"
David looks at him. Adam stands there, silouetted by the low burning lights around the camp. The silence streatchs, and someone passes by. Paul kicks his blankets ooff again, muttering something about the meaning of life being chocolate chip cookies. Adam snorts a bit in laughter, breaking the silence and the tension. David sits up, laughing silently. Adam moves and sits next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks again.
David shakes his head. "It was probably nothing, thank you anyway."
Adam nods, squeezing David's shoulder. "Don't stay up all night. There's only about three hours to sunrise." He gets up, walking to his own bed and getting in.
David watches him settle in for what is left of the night. For his part, he sits for some time, listneing ot Paul's snores and mutterings. Even in his sleep he doesn't shut up. he thinks affectionatly.
He decides sleep is now a lost cause. he gets up, cautiously making the bed bow, then dresses as quietly as possible. Paul imparts some nugget of wisdom to him in his sleep.
"Reg... blue. Very important." Paul says, still asleep. David raises an eyebrow, assuming that the dream version of himself will merely agree to Paul's sound advice about the colour blue.
David picks up his shaving kit and exits the tent. He wanders further from the camp than nessaccary, stopping where the work is going on. Then he sits in the sand, waiting for the sun to rise.
* * * * *
Irisi arrives at the Queen's privete chambers within the hour. Her preistess robes are carefully wrapped and perfumed. She knocks polietly on the Queen's door and enters as bid. She stops short, taking in the scene before her.
Teh Queen's attendents are scattered around the room, the Queen herself is seated in one of her chairs. And at her feet is a man on a seating coushin. She puzzles this breifly before moving toward the Queen.
Irisi looks at the man as she comes to greet the Queen. He looks up at her and she inhales sharply. It feels, to her, as if her connection to her Goddess has suddenly been pulled open. She can see, he's different, but those eyes are the same. His clothes are differentas well. But his essance is the same. She places her hand on her chest, steadying herself before looking at the Queen.
The Queen is watching her. SHe looks back. "We should talk."
The Queen rises, seperating them frm the rest of the room. Irisi takes a deep breath. "Tiri, where did you get him?"
"He came to me. He's been accused of stealing. He's asked to plead his case."
The two women look at the man once more. He's seated with intense interests. His fingertips follow veins in the polished stone. Irisi turns to her queen.
"You should set him free. I beleive he is important to your future."
"I thought I heard Isis tell me to pardon him and keep him as a servent."
"Then you must do it."
"Is it the right thing to do? For the kingdom."
"For your soul, my Queen. You must save this man."
"For my soul?"
"My Queen, he is the key to your immortality."
"Then I must explain this to my Pharoah."
"We will explain it to him."
Awesome!
