Post by orinocoflow on Dec 8, 2010 18:45:08 GMT -5
this was inspired by the picture of paul standing by neil in a chair from the slideshow.
hope you like it!
Paul groaned as he staggered offstage, not sure which leg to limp on since both hurt. Finally deciding to do neither, he stumbled as he made his way over to the only chair in the warehouse; since all of the others were being used for the show, this was the last one left for the lads, and he planned to make full use of it, having just danced “Doo Wacka Doo” four times in a row and his legs were killing him, especially his knees.
But as he got closer, he scowled at the small figure occupying it. Coming closer, he smirked.
“Com’on, Neil, get out; it’s my turn,” he mumbled as he stood beside the man in the chair. But Neil made absolutely no move to get out of it, staring back defiantly.
“No.”
Paul did a double take. Blinked. Blinked again. Opened his mouth, closed it. Stood there stupefied.
“May you please get out of the chair, Neil? I’m exhausted.”
“So? I want to sit here, watch the show,” replied the young man, hiding a smile successfully. Had Paul been in his full awareness, he would have noticed it right away, but he was too tired to see such details, and was at the moment getting a bit irritated. Leaning on the wall nearby, Keith looked up and watched the situation, a small smile on his lips.
“Neil, I just tapped for the last twenty minutes straight, and I think my feet are about to fall off, never mind my knees. Please get out of the chair and let me rest,” he ground out, hoping to stay polite, but his jaw clenched as his patience wore out. His knees answered the mention of their name, beginning to hurt even more, and he shifted to try and ease the pain.
“Why?” asked the guitarist, cautiously watching the blue fire sparking in the tenor’s eyes.
“Are you going to get out or not?”
Neil pretended to seriously consider it for a long time, but when Paul took a step closer, he quickly said, “No.”
Paul sighed and rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Groaning again, he glowered at Neil and stepped even closer, wincing when he leaned down and his back hurt from all of that dancing.
“Then I guess I’ll have to drag you out of it,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’ll help you with that,” spoke up Keith, moving forward with a wicked grin on his face as Neil realized that his joke had gone too far and got a worried expression on his face, leaning back into the chair and not sure whether to run from them or cling to the chair.
THE END
hope you like it!
Paul groaned as he staggered offstage, not sure which leg to limp on since both hurt. Finally deciding to do neither, he stumbled as he made his way over to the only chair in the warehouse; since all of the others were being used for the show, this was the last one left for the lads, and he planned to make full use of it, having just danced “Doo Wacka Doo” four times in a row and his legs were killing him, especially his knees.
But as he got closer, he scowled at the small figure occupying it. Coming closer, he smirked.
“Com’on, Neil, get out; it’s my turn,” he mumbled as he stood beside the man in the chair. But Neil made absolutely no move to get out of it, staring back defiantly.
“No.”
Paul did a double take. Blinked. Blinked again. Opened his mouth, closed it. Stood there stupefied.
“May you please get out of the chair, Neil? I’m exhausted.”
“So? I want to sit here, watch the show,” replied the young man, hiding a smile successfully. Had Paul been in his full awareness, he would have noticed it right away, but he was too tired to see such details, and was at the moment getting a bit irritated. Leaning on the wall nearby, Keith looked up and watched the situation, a small smile on his lips.
“Neil, I just tapped for the last twenty minutes straight, and I think my feet are about to fall off, never mind my knees. Please get out of the chair and let me rest,” he ground out, hoping to stay polite, but his jaw clenched as his patience wore out. His knees answered the mention of their name, beginning to hurt even more, and he shifted to try and ease the pain.
“Why?” asked the guitarist, cautiously watching the blue fire sparking in the tenor’s eyes.
“Are you going to get out or not?”
Neil pretended to seriously consider it for a long time, but when Paul took a step closer, he quickly said, “No.”
Paul sighed and rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Groaning again, he glowered at Neil and stepped even closer, wincing when he leaned down and his back hurt from all of that dancing.
“Then I guess I’ll have to drag you out of it,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’ll help you with that,” spoke up Keith, moving forward with a wicked grin on his face as Neil realized that his joke had gone too far and got a worried expression on his face, leaning back into the chair and not sure whether to run from them or cling to the chair.
THE END