Waking
Title: Waking
Fandom: Beatles
Word count: 361
Rated: PG
Pairings: John/Paul
Warning: None, just the obvious hint on John's POV.
Summary: A private moment before John boards the plane for the band's first USA tour.
Other: Always assumed that John carred various items in his messenger bag, mainly a sketchbook for aimless doodles and writing ideas. Also when it comes to his glasses, I wondere how blind he'd get... Dunno. Just a small ficclet (very first try on writing them on my own). Sorry for any OOC-ness.
Disclaimers: Don't own the Beatles, just this fic.
Hunched over in a booth of a small airport Café, his eyes scanned each page of the small sketchbook in his hands as a pencil twirled in his fingers. His expression was jaded, bored with the constant watch they were under. Privacy was a luxury, and when they had some, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Even if it was for just five minutes.
The tip of the pencil tapped at the old white page gently, an exhaustion passing over his body when he finally decided to sketch something. Damn laziness got to him in the worst moments sometimes. But once the first line was on the page, he permitted his hand to go from there. A round baby face, tubby fingers, exaggerated eyelashes… Gleaming hazel eyes, perfect puckered lips…
He started a second sketch beside the first one. A more rough figure with a hawk nose, spectacles instead of eyes and hands griping at the first figure with a hint of possessiveness…
“John!”
He suddenly woke up, looking up with a light frown as a more bouncy man came towards him with an urgent look on his face “Wot is it, Macca?”
“Been callin’ you at least three times. Didn’ hear me?”
“Yeah. Decided to ignore ya.” John watched as Paul ignored the sarcasm with a huff and a shake of the head. If Paul only knew how much John observed of him. The flick of the hair, the fake innocent expressions, the provocative stares he’d give. John only half wondered if they were meant for him to chase him, or just to mock him….
“Oy, John!” he woke up again as Paul wove a hand in front of his eyes “Wot’s wrong? You seem off.”
“Nothin’. ‘M just tired.” He closed his sketchbook, putting it and the pencil in his small, leather messenger bag before taking off his thick glasses and hiding them in the inside pocket of his coat.
Without another word, and as a cue when he stood up, John felt a light touch on his arm as Paul discreetly lead him out of the Café and towards the gate for their plane. There was no color n his face, no hint of being embarrassed… Even half blind, John secretly felt secure with Paul guiding him.
Even if he never said a word about it.
Hunched over in a booth of a small airport Café, his eyes scanned each page of the small sketchbook in his hands as a pencil twirled in his fingers. His expression was jaded, bored with the constant watch they were under. Privacy was a luxury, and when they had some, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Even if it was for just five minutes.
The tip of the pencil tapped at the old white page gently, an exhaustion passing over his body when he finally decided to sketch something. Damn laziness got to him in the worst moments sometimes. But once the first line was on the page, he permitted his hand to go from there. A round baby face, tubby fingers, exaggerated eyelashes… Gleaming hazel eyes, perfect puckered lips…
He started a second sketch beside the first one. A more rough figure with a hawk nose, spectacles instead of eyes and hands griping at the first figure with a hint of possessiveness…
“John!”
He suddenly woke up, looking up with a light frown as a more bouncy man came towards him with an urgent look on his face “Wot is it, Macca?”
“Been callin’ you at least three times. Didn’ hear me?”
“Yeah. Decided to ignore ya.” John watched as Paul ignored the sarcasm with a huff and a shake of the head. If Paul only knew how much John observed of him. The flick of the hair, the fake innocent expressions, the provocative stares he’d give. John only half wondered if they were meant for him to chase him, or just to mock him….
“Oy, John!” he woke up again as Paul wove a hand in front of his eyes “Wot’s wrong? You seem off.”
“Nothin’. ‘M just tired.” He closed his sketchbook, putting it and the pencil in his small, leather messenger bag before taking off his thick glasses and hiding them in the inside pocket of his coat.
Without another word, and as a cue when he stood up, John felt a light touch on his arm as Paul discreetly lead him out of the Café and towards the gate for their plane. There was no color n his face, no hint of being embarrassed… Even half blind, John secretly felt secure with Paul guiding him.
Even if he never said a word about it.
Fandom: Beatles
Word count: 361
Rated: PG
Pairings: John/Paul
Warning: None, just the obvious hint on John's POV.
Summary: A private moment before John boards the plane for the band's first USA tour.
Other: Always assumed that John carred various items in his messenger bag, mainly a sketchbook for aimless doodles and writing ideas. Also when it comes to his glasses, I wondere how blind he'd get... Dunno. Just a small ficclet (very first try on writing them on my own). Sorry for any OOC-ness.
Disclaimers: Don't own the Beatles, just this fic.
Hunched over in a booth of a small airport Café, his eyes scanned each page of the small sketchbook in his hands as a pencil twirled in his fingers. His expression was jaded, bored with the constant watch they were under. Privacy was a luxury, and when they had some, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Even if it was for just five minutes.
The tip of the pencil tapped at the old white page gently, an exhaustion passing over his body when he finally decided to sketch something. Damn laziness got to him in the worst moments sometimes. But once the first line was on the page, he permitted his hand to go from there. A round baby face, tubby fingers, exaggerated eyelashes… Gleaming hazel eyes, perfect puckered lips…
He started a second sketch beside the first one. A more rough figure with a hawk nose, spectacles instead of eyes and hands griping at the first figure with a hint of possessiveness…
“John!”
He suddenly woke up, looking up with a light frown as a more bouncy man came towards him with an urgent look on his face “Wot is it, Macca?”
“Been callin’ you at least three times. Didn’ hear me?”
“Yeah. Decided to ignore ya.” John watched as Paul ignored the sarcasm with a huff and a shake of the head. If Paul only knew how much John observed of him. The flick of the hair, the fake innocent expressions, the provocative stares he’d give. John only half wondered if they were meant for him to chase him, or just to mock him….
“Oy, John!” he woke up again as Paul wove a hand in front of his eyes “Wot’s wrong? You seem off.”
“Nothin’. ‘M just tired.” He closed his sketchbook, putting it and the pencil in his small, leather messenger bag before taking off his thick glasses and hiding them in the inside pocket of his coat.
Without another word, and as a cue when he stood up, John felt a light touch on his arm as Paul discreetly lead him out of the Café and towards the gate for their plane. There was no color n his face, no hint of being embarrassed… Even half blind, John secretly felt secure with Paul guiding him.
Even if he never said a word about it.
Hunched over in a booth of a small airport Café, his eyes scanned each page of the small sketchbook in his hands as a pencil twirled in his fingers. His expression was jaded, bored with the constant watch they were under. Privacy was a luxury, and when they had some, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Even if it was for just five minutes.
The tip of the pencil tapped at the old white page gently, an exhaustion passing over his body when he finally decided to sketch something. Damn laziness got to him in the worst moments sometimes. But once the first line was on the page, he permitted his hand to go from there. A round baby face, tubby fingers, exaggerated eyelashes… Gleaming hazel eyes, perfect puckered lips…
He started a second sketch beside the first one. A more rough figure with a hawk nose, spectacles instead of eyes and hands griping at the first figure with a hint of possessiveness…
“John!”
He suddenly woke up, looking up with a light frown as a more bouncy man came towards him with an urgent look on his face “Wot is it, Macca?”
“Been callin’ you at least three times. Didn’ hear me?”
“Yeah. Decided to ignore ya.” John watched as Paul ignored the sarcasm with a huff and a shake of the head. If Paul only knew how much John observed of him. The flick of the hair, the fake innocent expressions, the provocative stares he’d give. John only half wondered if they were meant for him to chase him, or just to mock him….
“Oy, John!” he woke up again as Paul wove a hand in front of his eyes “Wot’s wrong? You seem off.”
“Nothin’. ‘M just tired.” He closed his sketchbook, putting it and the pencil in his small, leather messenger bag before taking off his thick glasses and hiding them in the inside pocket of his coat.
Without another word, and as a cue when he stood up, John felt a light touch on his arm as Paul discreetly lead him out of the Café and towards the gate for their plane. There was no color n his face, no hint of being embarrassed… Even half blind, John secretly felt secure with Paul guiding him.
Even if he never said a word about it.