Where the Soul Meets Body
Title: You Wish.
Pairing: John Lennon / Paul McCartney
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; I do not claim for any of this to have ever happened (though who knows ;)). No offense to any of the parties is intended.
Summary: While John is contemplating the meaning of life, Paul is contemplating how close their knees are actually to touching.
Notes: Though I've been listening to their music for years, I have only now begun to dive into Beatles history, so please excuse any facts I may have got wrong that any of your connoisseur eyes would immediately spot ;) Comments and constructive criticism always let my guitar gently weep! ♥
Having escaped one dreadfully annoying conversation with some executive manager, Paul searched for refuge in the hotel room he was sharing with John. Having sighted said Beatle on the bed, hands crossed behind his head, feet up on a cushion and a dreamy expression upon his eyes, Paul was content to have found company who would not ask him of whether he planned to publish a book on the secret of song-writing.
„What's up, Johnny-boy?“ Paul asked light-heartedly, walking over and examining his friend's relaxed features.
„I'm contemplating life,“ John explained with a voice so languor-driven that it made Paul chuckle in response.
„Oh. Right. You should hold up a sign next time,“ he informed him.
„Shut up, you faithless ignoramus, you.“ John shot him an annoyed look before returning his gaze to a spot somewhere up high.
Paul managed to stifle his laugh this time and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching in amusement how John apparently tried to wring the secrets of life from the hotel room ceiling.
„So, what have you contemplated on so far?“ he asked, careful as to sound sincerely interested this time.
„Oh, a lot,“ John assured him somewhat absent-mindedly. „The band, the birds...You....Me.“
„What about you and me?“ Paul asked curiously.
Not bothering to give an answer right away, John turned to lay on his side and, tucking in his hands, adopted the facial expression of someone who had found its peace with the world.
„Oh, I see. The subject of us is boring you to sleep?“
John immediately opened one eye in mock amusement over the pout Paul wasn't even trying to hide and then, in one surprisingly swift movement, brought himself into a sitting position, mustering Paul with a look of mischievous curiosity. John's smile, too, had returned to his lips, and Paul instantly knew that the tables had turned. John's smile always appeared to Paul like it was holding the keys to the world, an unsettling feeling to someone who felt like wandering in a dark passageway, still trying to find the right doors.
He gulped. Suddenly, having set down so recklessly on a bed with John Lennon seemed to him like an entirely maniacal idea. All he could think of was how John's face was too close to his, and how their knees were almost touching, and how he could not hold his breath any longer or prevent the rising heat from colouring his cheeks.
Paul just sat there like a terrified schoolboy, hoping that Principal Lennon would not notice the treacherous signs he was so blatantly sending out into the universe. Only that the universe seemed determined to keep them in this particular room, painfully easy for John to catch and decipher.
Paul's fingers fumbled with the fabric of the bedsheets. He did not know when this had happened, when closeness with John started to feel different, when he had begun to measure it by extensive goosebumps and flushed cheeks and awkward silences.
Closeness had become closer even, and intimacy more intimate, signifying something way more profound than what they were whispering away the nights, huddled under one blanket so the others wouldn't hear, or going on psychedelic trips that would make them decide that vanilla bath foam is all they needed for clothing, or when, holding his shivering frame, Paul would assure John that he would always be there for him.
Now, Paul felt their relationship expand into a new dimension, the one in which Paul wanted to brush the fluffy fringe out of John's eyes, the one in which he felt the urge to push John onto his back with Paul atop of him and the one in which John would answer, „I want you too,“ somewhere in the deep, fantastic abyss of his mind.
„Paulie, am I right assuming this is making you nervous?“ John asked playfully, a light roughness unfolding in his voice, and nudged Paul's knee with his, retrieving him from his reveries.
„You wish.“ Paul's mouth was unpleasantly dry.
He wondered whether John had noticed too.Whether he was deliberately pushing the frontiers with each of his lingering looks and suggestive gestures, that Paul long-since hoped would one day reveal themselves as reined in confessions of desire and longing.
Tension-loaded silence sneaked between the two young men. Then, heavy-lidded eyes darkened and a hand moved tentatively.
„You're right, Paulie. I do.“
Paul's eyes widened in surprise. He watched as John's own cheeks took on a light shade of red and how in one languid movement that seemed to stretch into eternity, he leaned forward, eyes focused on Paul's lips, and pressed a slow, delicate kiss to them.
Paul guessed he had his answer. Overwhelmed with the rightness of it all, he brought his left hand up to the back of John's head and pulled him further into the kiss. They revelled in the exquisite novelty of the feelings that shot through both of their bodies, at the same time marvelling at their comforting familiarity. When they parted, John's eyes were glossy and his lips, still slightly apart, were releasing small breaths that ghosted over Paul's face. Paul knew that he was mirroring the dreamy, yearning expression in his own features.
„So you still want to know what I've been contemplating?“ John's voice was deep, deeper than usual, and his lips curved into a smile that no longer made Paul feel excluded.
„I think I can draw my conclusions now,“ Paul laughed and fell into John's embrace that felt like home and journey at once. Shifting and initiating another kiss, Paul chuckled softly at the thought crossing his mind.
He surely would never make fun of John Lennon's contemplations again.