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28 June 2005 @ 09:16 am
OMG, I finally wrote something again....  

Here's a little something I typed up out of sheer boredom.  It's kind of really bad, and pretty stupid, but oh well.


I couldn't decide if I wanted to write about Gingo or P/G...so i did a little of both.  PG rating.  The title's "Poles Apart" after the Pink Floyd song.



~`~Poles Apart ~`~


He sunk down into the couch, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.  Long brown hair hung in his eyes absently, obstructing his view a bit.  He didn’t much care, as there was nothing really to see in the bleak cavern they called a recording studio.  Everyone had just finished packing up for the night.  John was already well on his way out the door, and who could blame him considering he and Paul had just gone at it for a full 20 minutes.


“Goin’ home then?”  Ringo asked, passing him on the way to the drum kit on which he thought he’d set his ciggies.


“I suppose I will eventually.” George replied lazily, grinning as he held up the pack and tossed it to Ringo.  “Looking for these?”


“Bloody thief.” Ringo grumbled, his smile betraying his tone.  “Someday you’re going ta learn to bring your own.”


“Why?  I can always bum them off of you.”  George pulled his innocent look and pouted up at Ringo. “You’re not mad at me, are you Rings?”


Ringo couldn’t help but laugh.  As annoying a habit as it was, it was…. well, another George-ism.  And that smirk was just to cute to bother being mad at.


“Here, take mine…. or rather, yours that I stole.”  George offered the cigarette he still hadn’t gotten around to lighting.  “I’m too tired for a smoke anyways.”


“Wouldn’t want you falling asleep and lighting the studio on fire, now would we?”  Ringo teased, taking the ciggie and sticking it between his lips promptly.


 “I’ll see ya tomorrow, love.”


“Tomorrow.” George yawned, turning on his side on the couch.


Ringo sighed as he walked away, because with Paul still present a goodbye kiss was out of the question.


And Paul was in a particularly foul mood that day…but then again, when wasn’t he?   Ringo had already gone, and he needed someone to talk to desperately.  Somehow he doubted John would be all that receptive, as he was undoubtedly off licking his wounds with little miss Japanese-Conceptual-Artist.


He glanced over at George, who was now sleeping peacefully on the couch, blissfully unaware of anything.  For a moment he considered waking him, but quickly dismissed the idea.  They hadn’t been close in what seemed like decades, and he doubted George wanted to hear about his John-problems.   Not that Paul could blame him, he didn’t want to hear about any problems George might have with Ringo.


They hadn’t noticed, being too wrapped up in there own little world, but Paul had listened very carefully to the exchange between George and Ringo.  And he had to laugh to himself, because George was still such an obvious flirt.


“You’re not still mad at me, right Paulie?”


 “Maybe just a little.”


      “What can I do to change your mind?”


“Well… I have a few ideas.”


He still curled up with a pillow when he slept alone.  Come to think of it, Paul hadn’t seen him sleep since 1965. 


God…had it been that long ago already?  Paul sat his guitar case against the piano, and just looked at George for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept.  At least he was happy now.  Paul had made his decision- and now lived to regret it.


Now he was completely alone. 


He knelt beside where George slept, very softly brushing an absent strand of hair aside.  “John and I wrote songs…but you and I always made music, didn’t we, Geo?”  Paul whispered.


And when the light was turned out, and the studio door had clicked shut, Paul never heard the response.  “We did, Paulie.” 
Current Mood: drainedmeh
Current Music: Pigs On the Wing (Part 1)
the_scouserthe_scouser on June 30th, 2005 04:27 pm (UTC)
thank you kindly :)