Category/Rated: R slash
Year/Length: ~1200 words
Pairing: Indiana Jones/Cory Raines (Rina, I borrowed your boys. Hope you don't mind?)
Disclaimer: No body belongs to me. I sneak in when they aren't looking and fondle, but they belong to another.
Author's Notes: Well, Jennie and I were playing the word game. She said it would help me get over the writer's block that seems to be sitting on my head. This is the result.
Prompt: candle, book, visitor
Tel El Armana, June 27th, 1929
Indiana Jones stood in the fastness of the tomb, and looked around himself, taking in the brightly colored bas relief that covered the wall beside him.
The god Anubis, who weighed souls against a feather to determine their fitness to enter heaven was lowering above him. The colors were as bright as the day that they had been painted, and in the dry, still air of the tomb he could almost hear the creak of the scale he bore.
He'd stumbled on this place by chance as he made his way down through the Nile Delta and on towards the Valley of the Kings. There had been no record of it, and the sole indicator of its existance had been the rumor in the village where he'd stopped for the night. The rumor told of an old god buried close by, a god who would rise to save them should there be need. He'd been so interested that he'd abandoned the idea of joining his friend Howard Carter at Luxor, and decided to concentrate on this. If it bore fruit, he'd be famous. If not, at least he'd tried.
The villagers had been pleased to share their folk tales with him, but reluctant to accompany him when he had departed to the hills to search for the place he was almost sure would prove to be the resting place of Anubis, the supposed god of the dead.
The search had been brief. Somehow he'd felt drawn to the place, and when at last he'd broken the seal on what was undoubtedly a tomb from the days of the pharaohs, he'd felt a thrill that had only grown rather than receding as he realised that, for a wonder, the place hadn't been plundered in antiquity.
As he made his way into the tomb, past chests and statues that glittered in the light of the candle, he wished, unaccountably, that he could share this with Cory, the man whose generosity had made it possible.
The burial chamber was smaller than he'd expected, and the sarcophagus that was placed in the center seemed far too small actually to contain the body of a man. Uttering a fervent prayer that there was indeed something within, Indy moved forward to open the black basalt container.
Within lay no body. A scroll of papyrus was laid at the head of the coffin, and a further mound of scrolls heaped within the cavity where the body might have lain. With trembling hands, Indy took hold of the first, and sat down to read it by the light of his candle.
"The Book of the Dead," he murmured, as the heiroglyphics were revealed. He'd seen copies, but never one such as this. Fascinated, he pored over his find, until the candle guttered, and he was forced to consider leaving his find.
Rolling up the scroll, and grabbing a couple of the others, he closed the lid of the sarcophagus, and then as an afterthought bent and picked up a statuette of the jackal-headed Anubis, then he turned towards the passageway and left his discovery.
Back in his tent, he hastily retrieved his scroll, hoping that the last little period of daylight would stretch for him. Fascinated, he pored over his find, pausing only to light a lamp when the day finally faded to dusk. There were a number of things contained within the document that he hadn't seen before in other copies, and he was anxious to know all that could be gleaned from it.
He made copious notes as he translated, and soon his notebook was full of the jottings he'd made. Impatiently shuffling through his belongings for more paper, he found the statuette he'd taken earlier. There were heiroglyphics on the base of that too, and absently he translated them.
"Alone for an eternity, lo, the companion comes." The cartouche that lay beneath contained a name that he didn't know. The translation seemed to imply "Visitor." Shrugging, he put the little statue in his pocket, took his paper and returned to his studies.
The cartouche repeated itself in the scroll, and Indy began to read it aloud as he attempted to make sense of it. As he voiced the words, there was a brief moment of disorientation, and he wondered if there had been an earthquake, then he heard a familiar voice, soft and husky.
"What the hell? Where...?" Turning, he saw Cory, dressed in a white cotton shirt, a tweed vest and pants, and with a fedora perched on the back of his head, sitting on the rug in the mouth of his tent with a look of total astonishment on his face.
"Cory!" Nothing like stating the obvious, mused Indy, as he wondered what the hell was going on. Cory looked around himself in total confusion.
"I... I was at the bar in the Chicago Hilton and now I'm... Indy? Is that you?" As always, the sound of Cory's soft, gravelly voice did interesting things to Indy's libido. He took in the sparkling eyes and flushed face of his occasional lover, and felt himself rising to the occasion, Whether this was real, or merely a dream, he was becoming aroused.
Wordlessly, Indy nodded. Cory grinned, and held out a hand. As Indy pulled him to his feet, the grin broadened.
"At least I'm among friends here. I wasn't looking forward to the beating Capone's associates were about to dish out. How they must regret my departure." His eyes twinkled as he looked around himself. "Wanna tell me where I am?"
"Cory, you're in Egypt. We're about half a day out from Tel El Armana. I've just found the most amazing site." As Cory nodded, Indy began to detail the events of the past few days, showing him the scroll and the translation he'd made. Cory sat close, nodding and exclaiming appropriately, and by the time Indy had finished, he had his arm wound around the archaeologist.
When he noticed at last, Indy's sharp intake of breath was audible in the silence of the desert night, and Cory chuckled.
"I don't know how I got here, and I don't care." His lips closed on Indy's, and the kiss that followed was a long, sweet tumble down into a place where sensation ruled intellect, and consisted of silken skin, moist mouths and delicately probing fingers.
Time stopped as they held each other. The world went away as they renewed their delight in each other's bodies, and somehow, a small, black, jackal-headed statuette had found its way to the small table beside Indy's cot, and presided over their lovemaking with glittering obsidian eyes. As they panted out their completion, the statue seemed to smile, and when the lamp finally guttered, extinguishing itself, the gleaming eyes could still be seen in the gloom of the tent.
The two men lay tumbled together, pale limbs glowing as they dreamed.
The following morning, Indy could not wait to show Cory his newly discovered treasure. Together they clambered up the rocky slope to the place where the tomb lay, and Cory, in his tweeds, sweltered.
It was gone. There was no entrance, no threshold engraved with heiroglyphs that told of ancient mysteries.
They searched for the whole of that day, but there was no sign that it had ever existed.
Cory, however, remained.