(no subject)
Title: Saint Anthony
Rating: G
Fandom: Beatles
Pairing: John/Paul
A/N: Written for the lost & found challenge at beatlesslash.
Ever since St. Anthony recovered his stolen Psalter from a novice, he's been the crutch of Catholics everywhere, the ones missing keys, shoes, children. Somewhere in the midst of beatitude recitation Paul learned to offer his prayers to Anthony of Padua, because the saint cares for nothing more than belongings MIA. What's more is it worked. After a brief check in ("Hey, Tony, how're you, what the hell'd you do with my pick?"), the object would materialize in a drawer that had been overturned three times previously. Ask and you shall receive.
But it never lasts. It may have been secular school, or a sort of infallible belief in his own abilities. Perhaps the death of his mother or the influence of his friends. Hell, it could have been the feverish consumption of cigarettes. Whatever it was, it arrived on schedule-it seemed like everyone was losing his faith.
:::
But that's not the end of the story. At what point does he realize? When sunset seems late, maybe. When all his songs end on the same note, a stagnant, grey melancholy. When the blue rings under John's eyes are unfamiliar, the cause unknown, and their voices don't sound so sweet together anymore. Then he thinks something almost imperceptible is gone. Times like these (the Christmas Truce of 1914 comes to mind), George will listen. And being a recovering Catholic himself, he remembers the prayers. But, as he says with his trademark optimism, St. Anthony cares more for missing keys.
Rating: G
Fandom: Beatles
Pairing: John/Paul
A/N: Written for the lost & found challenge at beatlesslash.
Ever since St. Anthony recovered his stolen Psalter from a novice, he's been the crutch of Catholics everywhere, the ones missing keys, shoes, children. Somewhere in the midst of beatitude recitation Paul learned to offer his prayers to Anthony of Padua, because the saint cares for nothing more than belongings MIA. What's more is it worked. After a brief check in ("Hey, Tony, how're you, what the hell'd you do with my pick?"), the object would materialize in a drawer that had been overturned three times previously. Ask and you shall receive.
But it never lasts. It may have been secular school, or a sort of infallible belief in his own abilities. Perhaps the death of his mother or the influence of his friends. Hell, it could have been the feverish consumption of cigarettes. Whatever it was, it arrived on schedule-it seemed like everyone was losing his faith.
:::
But that's not the end of the story. At what point does he realize? When sunset seems late, maybe. When all his songs end on the same note, a stagnant, grey melancholy. When the blue rings under John's eyes are unfamiliar, the cause unknown, and their voices don't sound so sweet together anymore. Then he thinks something almost imperceptible is gone. Times like these (the Christmas Truce of 1914 comes to mind), George will listen. And being a recovering Catholic himself, he remembers the prayers. But, as he says with his trademark optimism, St. Anthony cares more for missing keys.