All over Bubbles

[macca44552]

Title: All over Bubbles (Chapter 34)

Author: macca44552
Pairings: J/P, P/G
Rating: NC-17

Warnings: sexual situations, drug and alcohol use, language

Summary: John notices something that pisses him off: George has a thing for Macca. So John settles this in the only way he knows how: a bet. Who will win Paul’s heart: John or George? And how does Ringo feel about this whole thing?

A/N: Hi! :D So this chapter is written in a slightly different format, and, well, I hope that you don’t get confused.

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Beatles, nor do I claim to. This is a fictional story and is not written to be libelous.

Chapters 1-33


Chapter 34

I’ve got something to say that might cause you pain. If I catch you talking to that boy again, I’m gonna let you down and leave you flat. Because I’ve told you before…ooooooh you can’t do that!

His eyes were on Paul as he sang this. They glittered black with taunting as he watched Paul uncomfortably wriggle under his scrutiny. George was no better; the little fuck-head was sweating and pouting, his bottom lip jutting out in the most amusing of ways. Harrison looked more uncomfortable than Paul, judging by the fact that he did his utmost best not to make eye contact with anyone on stage, well, aside from Ringo.

Well it's the second time I've caught you talking to him. Do I have to tell you one more time, I think it's a sin!

Ever since last night when Paul and George had their little ‘breakup’, neither of them had spoken to each other. That was alright with John though, since he didn’t really fancy Paul’s bit on the side anyroad.

But if they'd seen you talking that way they'd laugh in my face!

As John listened to Harrison and Paul singing the harmony parts, he felt a jab of happiness sprint up his body, and he strummed on his guitar with a renewed vigor. He couldn’t believe his luck!! His plan had worked out! Paul had, as John expected, tried to please both of them by seeing him and Harrison at the same time, Paul had, as John also had expected, kept this a secret from George, and the truth had, as John was happy to report, come out and destroyed George’s trust in Paul-thus ending their relationship. John was so gleeful that he took a bow right in the middle of the song and therefore caused the girls in the audience to wet themselves.

So please listen to me if you want to stay mine. I can't help this feeling; I'll go out of my mind!

It was funny how strangely this song seemed to fit in with everything, despite the fact that he had originally written if for Cynthia, with Paul being only a mild inspiration. Now Paul was all that he could think about, as was made evident when John tried to sit down and write a letter to Cyn on the night of Paul and George’s split…

He furiously tapped his pen on the notebook in front of him. Two lines. After not talking to Cynthia for ages, he could only come up with two bloody lines to say to his wife:

Dear Cyn,

I love and miss you. Also, I would appreciate it if you could stop shaving your cunt.

Love, John.

John groaned and chewed the pencil eraser so roughly that he actually managed to bite the pink eraser off entirely, and it slid into his mouth and caused him to have a choking fit.

“Fuck!” He swore as he coughed up the pink eraser and threw it at the wall. Why the fuck couldn’t he write this letter? It was for his wife for Christ’s sake! She should be the only one who he’d be able to write a nice, long letter to!

Unfortunately, John just wasn’t in the mood to write to Cynthia. Paul still hadn’t returned to the suite since George had broken things off with him, and the stupid bassist was consuming his mind. Not that John was going to go and look for him or anything; Paul was a big boy and he could handle himself. Plus, there was something that he wanted to be doing with his free time. He wanted to write. He didn’t want to write music, though. He wanted to write a letter.

Just not to Cynthia.

John ripped off the top page of his notebook where the pitiful letter to his wife resided. He figured that he would fill up the space with a lot of ‘I love yous’ mixed in with a couple of ‘I miss yous’. Julian too-he could question Cynthia about him. Yes, that was good.

John stored away these ideas for a later time as he began to write the letter that he really wanted to write.

Dear Amber,

I’ve got some terrific noose. Wait. Oh dear, I’d forgotten that the first paragraph of a letter is supposed to be filled with niceties and all that. Apparently I’m supposed to question you about what you’re doing and how the fuck your life has been. Yeah, well, I’m knot going to do that, ‘cause I don’t give a fuck, and I’d just be wasting time. I’ve got loads to tell you. So sit your skinny arse down, take your little pink rope off (how many times have I told you that clothes are unnecessary?), and prepare to read some important information.

On the last letter that we exchanged, I told you that Snarninia and I kissed a bit. Well, we’ve progressed since the last time I wrote to you. We fucked. Not completely-not yet anyway, but we got close. The thought of her body is making me drool all over this letter, so when you receive this in the post, just know that it is wet and sticky because of my drool, not my spunk.

Actually, yes my spunk, you stupid twat!

Don’t worry, I’m only messing. You know that I love you like mad. When things started going right between me and her, you were the first one that I wanted to tell. In fact, I have more to tell. Snarninia and ‘The Fanged One’ have officially ended. Yep, no need to hold in your round of applause; it’s finally happened! About bloody time! Now Snarnina’s all mine. The Fanged One is surely going to pout about it for a few days, but I don’t give a fuck! He didn’t give a fuck when I did my fair share of pouting, so why should I care about him?

Anyroad, I hope that everything’s gone well with you. I hope that you’ve collected a shite load of cloud water, and I hope that you’ve hanged around with a lot of people and inspired them to be just as quirky and mental as you. I really love you, you know. Keep yourself safe, (don’t go and neck any pricks) and make sure to say hello to your grandfather for me. I miss you.

Love,

John Squireknight III

Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you! Tomorrow I’ll miss you! Remember I’ll always be true. And then while I’m away I’ll write home every day! And I’ll send all my lovin’ to yooou!

The crowd screamed and, probably, orgasm-ed as Macca’s voice filled the auditorium. Paul didn’t sound as energetic as he usually did but John chose to ignore this fact. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew that it would take Paul some time to get over Harrison. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too much time, though, because John wasn’t a very patient person. Hell, he had had enough of a hard time talking to Paul last night once the little bugger had gotten back from moping about…

A squeaking sound enfolded inside the room and John looked up from writing his uninteresting letter to Cynthia.

Paul was back. He looked…miserable. John swallowed a jealous lump in his throat.

“Back then,” John greeted lazily, feigning indifference. Paul didn’t answer him. He just licked his lips and stared at his luggage that John had unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the room.

“I’ve been kicked out of my room, I see,” Paul said quietly and John couldn’t ignore the crack in his voice.

“No. This is your room now, and I’m not kicking you out,” John explained. Paul didn’t do anything; he just stood there, staring at his suitcases as if they’d done him a great injustice. John rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Are you finished acting like an idiot? Stop standing around like that!” John barked as the jealous poison began to flow through his veins. Why the fuck was Paul so broken up over George?! What was so special about him?!!

“Sorry,” Paul mumbled and he sat down obediently-on the bed that was not John’s. He tossed his letter to Cynthia aside and sat up more fully on his bed-on what John had hoped was going to be their bed.

“Come over here! Why are you sitting over there?” John interrogated as he tapped the space next to him. Paul looked at John’s bed with disgust.

“I-I don’t think I want to, actually,” he said in a cursory manner. John raised his brows.

“What?”

“I’m fine over here,” Paul said with a clenched jaw. John bit the inside of his mouth angrily.

“Good then, because I suppose that George will come crawling back to you just because you decided not to spend the night in my bed, for once,” John bit. Paul looked up at him so fast that John swore he heard his neck crack.

“Fuck you,” Paul said evenly as he suddenly stood up. John stood as well.

“Fucking! You’ve been doing a lot of that, haven’t you?!?!” John sneered as he crossed his arms. Paul shook his head and marched over to his stuff.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he said shortly.

“Good. That’s very fitting! That’s the place where people go when they’re not wanted!!” John yelled. Paul dropped his stuff and spun around on the spot.

“Not wanted!!!??! You’ve been drooling over me for days now!! It was your want that got me into this mess!!” Paul spat.

“Really!? Who was the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself!!?!”

“You actually, since you kept following me around and snogging me whenever you got the chance!”

“You’re right! I just couldn’t help myself! Oh father, please deliver me from temptation! Lead me not into sin!” John said as he yelled at the ceiling dramatically.

“Oh come off it!” Paul yelled back.

“You come off it! You know as fucking well as I do that you responded to every single one of my fucking advances!!!”

“I felt sorry for you! That was the only reason why I did it!” Paul screamed. The air around them swirled and changed as John took in the words that had entered his ears. Felt sorry for him, eh?

“That’s a load of shite,” John said quietly. Paul snorted.

“You’re in denial,” he responded cruelly. John pressed his thin lips together and resolutely walked towards Paul. Surprisingly, Macca didn’t move. He just stared at John with wide, slightly frightened eyes.

“What are you doing?” Paul asked nervously.

“You’re not walking away,” John said, his voice like silk.

“That’s because I-”

And before Paul could finish his, most likely, stupid sentence, John wrapped his arms around him and planted a wet and tender kiss on his lips. Much to John’s relief, Paul responded almost instantly. He moved his lips desperately against John’s and their bodies seemed to melt together. John threaded his hands through Paul’s dark locks and tugged on them gently. Paul moaned in return.

“No no! Stop it!” Paul mumbled against John’s lips as he used his hidden strength to push John off of him. Paul stared at him with indignant eyes and puffy lips.

“You feel sorry for me?” John smirked somewhat breathlessly. Paul ran his hands through his hair and looked around the room with a horrified expression.

“This can’t go on,” Paul whispered. John squinted.

“And why not?”

“’Cause it’s destroying EVERYTHING!” Paul thundered and flailed. John put his hands on Paul’s shoulders so he could try and knock some sense into him. After all, John definitely did not want Paul to throw everything away! The bassist was resistant though, and he wiggled violently as he tried to escape from John’s grip.

“Stop blaming me for your own mistakes,” John said evenly as he held onto the younger man tightly.

“NO! You’ve fucked up everything!! Everything was fine until you came along and had to go and mess everything up!!!!” Paul thrashed and he finally managed to push John off of him entirely, sending the older man crashing to the floor. Pain shot up John’s arse and he cringed. Paul looked at him with a surprised expression before he turned around and made to walk out of that room. John pushed away all thoughts about murdering Paul, and quickly jumped up from the floor and grabbed his arm.

“Let go of me!!” Paul threatened. John clenched his teeth.

“No.”

“Get the fuck OFF of me!!!” Paul shouted. John sneered.

“Tut tut. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to respect your superiors?” John degraded, knowing the sort of effect that that statement would have on Paul. And sure enough, Paul kicked him in the balls.

“OW FUCK!!!!!!! YOU LITTLE CUNT!” John screeched as he grabbed his midsection and slid to the ground. John felt water building up behind his eyes. He breathed through his nose and tried ignore the fact that it felt as if each ball had been stabbed thirty times.

Taking advantage of John’s weak state, Paul lunged for the door and fiddled with the doorknob for a few seconds. That fiddling around had earned John some time, though, and he clung onto Paul’s leg.

“Get off!” Paul yelled once more. With a screwed-up smile, John raised himself up as much as he could given his current state of pain, grabbed Paul’s slim waist, and yanked on him as hard as he could. Paul lost his balance and toppled onto the floor next to John.

“OW! What the fuck!? This isn’t funny!!” Paul said.

“Yeah? Neither was getting my nuts wacked, you prick!” John growled. Paul tried to move away again, but John grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled Paul towards him.

“Stop it!! You’re a fucking nutter!” Paul cried.

“You really care about him that much?” John asked after he took a deep breath, “You don’t want to be with me anymore, do you? All you want is him,” John gasped out, his face was red and his eyes were desperate. Paul stopped struggling instantly and stared at him with a curious expression on his face. John turned his head to the side and blinked repeatedly. His head was spinning, his arse hurt, his balls hurt, and his emotions were changing so rapidly that John had trouble sticking to one-confusion, anger, envy, and pain. Always pain.

John waited and waited for Paul to respond but he didn’t answer. Macca was still. He was staring at John with calculating eyes. John tightened his grip on Paul’s collar and moved closer to him.

“Answer me now,” John demanded in crackling voice. Paul looked off to the side and he bit his lower lip.

“I just…I just need time,” he said. John snorted and shook his head.

“No Paul. You’ve had enough time to think when you were snogging George behind me back! I want an answer now. Do you want to be with me?” John demanded, nostrils flaring.

“I just…I need-”

“Answer the question Paul! You can either have me…or you can try and get George. Your fucking games are over Paul. Choose!”

“I…I…I…I”

“Bloody fuck, just choose!”

“But I-”

“CHOOSE!”

“FINE! YOU!!!” Paul yelled with wet eyes. John’s heart, which had been beating frantically during that conversation, suddenly stopped. A ringing plagued his ears.

“What?” he asked weakly. Paul licked his lips and brought two shaky arms to rest on John’s shoulders.

“You,” Paul whispered. John stared at him in disbelief. After all that; after everything that Paul had said; after Paul had blamed John for everything and pouted over George-he had chosen him?

“But…but what about Harrison?” John asked. Paul’s hands slid off of John’s shoulders and he looked at the door, as if trying to see George, and swallowed roughly.

“I need time to get my head around everything,” Paul said shortly. John let out an electrically charged breath and grabbed Paul’s arms, hooking them around his waist.

“But you still want me? You want to be with me?!” John asked. Paul nodded slowly and John was overcome with an immense gush of pleasure and ecstasy. He felt high, but better. He leaned forward and captured Paul’s lips in an intense, passion-laced kiss. Slurping sounds filled the room as their lips gave into each other completely, and their tongues battled for a dominance that quickly descended into a natural rhythm. John growled and shoved his hands underneath his shirt, only to have Paul get up and back away.

“Oi!” John exclaimed.

“I told you. I need more time. Please,” Paul explained quietly, looking at the ground. John rolled his eyes.

“Well how much fucking time do you need? I’ve got a prick that needs attention here!”

“Then attend to it. I just…I need to get everything sorted,” Paul said. John sighed and he slowly, as not to cause further pain to his goods, stood up. John started walking towards him, but Paul backed away.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” Paul said. John rolled his eyes in a mix of frustration and exasperation.

“Again!?” he asked, but Paul didn’t answer. He gave him a stern and sad sort of look before he opened the door and left. That time, John didn’t stop him.

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. With a love like that, you know you should be glad!

John almost cringed when he remembered the blow that his balls had suffered. It was all worth it though, Paul had chosen him. John had practically won the bet! All he had to do was have sex with him, and then Paul would truly be his.

But then what would happen? Once he and Paul were together, everything would change, wouldn’t it? It was already clear that not a lot of people approved of them being together, as was made evident when John went to see Eppy while Paul was taking his walk…

“Well, it’s happened! Paul and I are together!” John announced in a posh accent as he closed the door to Brian’s room. The manager, who had been sitting on the couch and drinking a bit of booze absentmindedly, paused in the middle of his sip and looked at John with surprise.

“What?” he asked. John smirked as he sat on the gray armchair.

“Me and Paul are together now,” he said. Eppy blinked.

“What about George? I thought he and Paul were-”

“History. It’s really sad, isn’t it? I cried a few times over it,” John said dramatically as he clutched his heart. Eppy took a long swig of his beer.

“I told you to fix this,” he said quietly.

“Fix what exactly?” John asked as he squinted. Eppy put his beer down and began running his hands up and down his legs.

“I thought that you were going to leave Paul and George alone! I thought that you were going to move on-”

“And why the fuck would I do that?” John barked, leaning back and crossing his legs. Eppy stared at the movement intently for a few seconds before he looked away.

“Because of the band, John!! This whole thing is a giant mess! You like Paul, George likes Paul, Paul likes both of you, and you and George hate each other!!” Eppy loudly explained. John smirked and shook his head.

“Believe me, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” John said gruffly, wondering how Eppy would react if he knew about the bet. With a sigh, John reached over, grabbed Eppy’s beer, and took a long sip.

“Fix it! This is the band! This is your career!!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” John said sarcastically. Brian pulled his mouth in irritably.

“The Beatles can’t exist without the three of you! I don’t want you lot to ruin your friendship, and the band, over…this!”

“So what do you want me to do then!?!” John demanded. “Do you want me to call things off with Paul and have him go running back to Harrison!?!”

“Of course not, John,” Eppy said exasperatedly, “Why would I expect you to think about other people?”

“You know what,” John yelled as he slammed Eppy’s beer down on the table and stood up, “This isn’t about me! This is about you!! You’re pissed off at me because I’m queer for Paul and not you! And you know what, that’s not going to change! I’d rather jump off a plane than fuck you again!!” John shouted blindly, seeking only to hurt. And he accomplished just that, if the sad and horrified look on his manager’s face was any indication. He didn’t care, though-he didn’t want anyone coming in between him and Paul. I mean, he was with the person whom he had wanted for years, and no one was happy for him! Everyone looked at him like he was the bad guy, and John just couldn’t stomach it any longer. He turned around to leave.

“John!!” Eppy shouted after him, but John didn’t stop.

There were bells on a hill but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all! ‘Till there was you!

As Paul was singing, John couldn’t help but stare at his beauty. There was something about him, it drove him mad that he didn’t know what it was, but there was something about Paul that made John want him so badly that it felt like his chest was being compressed every time he looked at him. Despite the fact that Eppy was nothing but a cunt, he was right. John was risking a lot to go ahead with this relationship; why was it worth it? Paul McCartney was arrogant, distant at the worst of times, self-obsessed, and much too bloody optimistic for his own good. So why couldn’t John keep away from him?

Actually, why couldn’t the fans keep away from him? At that moment, a gaggle of fans leaped over the barriers and were now wrestling with the police in order to climb on stage and get their hands on the Fab Four.

John’s playing became sloppy as he stared frighteningly at the fans, and then at his own band mates. They were all worried, especially because the fans were now overtaking the police. John gulped and, if it was possible, started sweating even more.

Just then, he looked offstage and saw that Mal was giving them the signal to retreat. John stopped playing and grasped onto his guitar tightly.

“Oi!” John yelled into the microphone (this act only further instigated the fans), “On that note, have a nice day. Also, be sure to eat three meals a day, and never talk to strangers who are not physically attractive!” John shouted into the audience before he grabbed Paul’s arm and ran off the stage. George and Ringo were right behind them as they followed Mal through a complicated set of hallways and into the dressing room area. George, Paul, and John were all clutching their instruments while Ringo was firmly holding onto his drumsticks. They gasped for air.

“This is absolutely ridiculous! Why aren’t there more police out there!?!” Eppy raged as he briskly walked over to Mal. “Mal can you and Neil go out there and help a bit? They apparently cannot do their jobs!” Brian ordered and Mal nodded and walked away.

“Hey, what’s going on?! They’ve still got four more songs to perform!” Derek Taylor said as he strolled over to them, a donut in his hand and crumbs tumbling down his shirt.

“You can go out there if you like. That is, if you don’t mind getting ripped apart by a load of unattractive teenage girls!” John spewed. Derek furrowed his brows.

“The fans have broken through the barriers and are probably climbing on stage as we speak!” Eppy explained as he rubbed his head, “Listen, I need you to make an announcement over the public-address system! Tell them that if they don’t get off the stage and settle down, then the rest of the concert will be cancelled!” Eppy finished and Derek quickly walked away.

“I’m not going back out there,” John said. Eppy rubbed his temples vigorously.

“John, I don’t have the time or the patience for your shite!” he swore.

“Yeah John, we can’t not play,” Paul said quietly. John shot him a death-stare.

“I’m not going back out there!! Those girls are fucking mental!!!”

“If they calm down then everything will be fine!”

“Right. Then we can go to Rainbow Land and ride some magical unicorns,” John said in annoyance. Paul rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand.

“It’ll be fine,” Paul insisted gently as his big eyes stabbed John’s soul. Paul squeezed his hand, and John squeezed back instantly, feeling a rush of hot air pass through him.

“Okay,” John agreed quietly, his eyes glued to Paul’s. The bassist smiled.

“Plus, you know, I don’t think I’d mind going to see some unicorns,” he said gently. John’s smile grew so wide that he thought it was going to wrap around his entire head. He squeezed Paul’s hand again, but the extremity quickly vanished and an icy breeze chilled John’s empty hand. Paul was looking at something else, so John turned his head and he instantly saw what he was staring at.

Ringo was looking between John and Paul with an indistinguishable emotion on his face, George was staring and blinking at the place where their hands had previously been joined, and Eppy was obviously seething with disapproval. Anger erupted inside of him. John was about to yell at Harrison first, but the little prick turned around and abruptly walked away, which filled John with a sick sort of pleasure. He turned his attention to Brian.

“Don’t fucking look at me,” John growled. Brian looked around in frustration and held his arms out.

“John!! W-”

“The fans are backing off! You can go back out there,” Derek said as he came back, gasping for air. Jaw clenched, John walked off angrily, if only to get away from his manager.

“Hey! Hold on! Are you and Brian in the middle of a row?” Paul asked, walking beside him. John stopped and faced Paul. George walked by, heading for the stage, and he exchanged a dirty look with him before he concentrated on Paul. His Paul.

“Forget it. Let’s just…play. Yeah?” he said, searching Macca’s face. Paul licked his lips and nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s play.”

To be continued…

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