Night At The Park (Ahkmenrah X Tim Murphy)

Chapter Five- The Old Market

Hello everyone! Please be aware that a trigger warning for allusions to physical abuse is now in effect from this point onwards. Stay safe lovies!

Ahkmenrah allowed Tim to attempt to find his own way out of the temple for a while before finally taking pity on him. He led him through the winding halls and stepped outside just as the sun was making its final descent below the horizon.

On a stone stool near the entrance, a golden crown reflected the dimming daylight. Ahkmenrah picked up the crown and fluidly situated it on top of his hair. Tim was not permitted time to mourn the loss of Ahkmenrah's unruly curls before the pharaoh started to walk out of the temple.

He trailed behind Ahkmenrah like a lost puppy as they approached the Old Market. It turned out to be the same market Ahura had dragged him through to get to the temple, but now, as the day grew thin, the place was almost completely deserted. Only a few people walked by, bowing respectfully at Ahkmenrah as they passed, and a few vendors were closing up shop. The other tables had vanished, products gone and safely stored away.

Ahkmenrah regarded the people with a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For some reason, he resembled a kid in a candy store, practically skipping down the street. Tim hurried to keep up with him.

Eventually, he must have gotten tired, because he slowed and fell into step beside him.

"So, tell me about yourself, Timothy," he asked when they were out of earshot of the surrounding people. "Where are you from? I don't believe I have seen you around."

Tim swallowed nervously. It wasn't as if he could tell Ahkmenrah everything, could he? If the exorcising debacle was anything to go by, absolutely not. He had just found his soulmate. He wasn't prepared to lose him so quickly.

He cast his mind back, trying to come up with a good excuse. "Um . . . I just traveled here from . . . from Crete."

"Why come here?" Ahkmenrah asked.

"Money. A job, I mean."

"Were you successful?"

"Uh . . ." Tim thought back to his lie about drinking too much to Jim. "Not exactly."

"We could fix that. What kind of job are you looking for?"

"I–I don't know."

"Hm." Ahkmenrah eyed him with a contemplative look. "Perhaps some smith work?"

Tim shuddered, thinking of soot, fire, and sweaty armpits. He hated sweaty armpits. "Absolutely not."

"What about a tailor?"

He shook his head. "Pointy needles . . . not for me."

Ahkmenrah sighed. "Well . . . we will find something eventually."

Truth was, it had never even occurred to him that a job was something he would need. But now that he thought about it, he would have to make money at some point. He had left all his cash at the archeology site, and it wasn't as if the U.S. dollar had much worth in Ancient Egypt anyway.

But then he frowned. He couldn't believe he'd been distracted. Soulmate or not, he didn't belong in this timeline. He needed to go home, back to the present, even if Ahkmenrah didn't come with. The thought left him feeling like there was a gaping hole in his chest.

"Yeah," he muttered absently. "I guess we will."

Ahkmenrah nodded, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Yes. But more importantly, what in the gods' names are you wearing?"

Tim was still wearing his shorts and t-shirt. He frowned. "Uh . . ."

"We should get you some new clothes. Follow me."