(no subject)
Title: Only I'm Allowed to Do That
Author: dora_1051
Rating: PG - 13
Warnings: Language, a slightly hot scene at the end.
Summary: Set in 1950 and 1960.
Author Notes: The first half was the more difficult half to write so it may come off a bit weird, the second half was a lot easier so I feel like it's better. Anyway, constuctive criticism and comments always appreciated.
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. Only Paul knows what really did happen between these two.
It’s a warm Sunday afternoon in 1950, when a young auburn haired boy approaches a younger child clutching an ice cream.
“Wanna play?” says the eldest boy.
“Sure!” The other replies enthusiastically. “Just a minute …”
“Nice ice cream,” the elder notes.
“Mummy bought it for me.”
“Right,” the topic of mother’s being a source of discomfort for the young boy. “My name’s Winston by the way.”
“My name’s James, but everyone -“
Before the chubby youngster can finish his sentence, his ice cream is snatched from his slightly sticky grasp. He watches as the older boy gives the creamy goodness a swift lick, before it is shoved back into his outstretched palm.
“I would’ve shared if you’d asked y’know,” Paul grumbles.
John shrugs in reply.
“I don’t usually have to share, I’m an only child.”
“Oh lucky! My little brother is disgusting! Are you here by yourself?”
“Yep,” John puffs out his chest slightly at the obvious look of admiration on Paul’s face, whilst slyly turning his back to face his aunt sitting three feet away.
“Oh wow! Mummy’s playing with Mike in the sand pit so I get to stay by the swings - on my own!”
John chuckles at the boy’s proud tone.
“How old are you?” He asks.
“Eight, you?”
“Ten … in two months, which makes you the baby.”
“I’m not a baby!” Paul shouts indignantly, stamping his sandal covered foot.
“Hey fatty, shut up and give me that ice cream,” another boy, larger than even John, walks up to Paul and snatches the last of the ice cream from him and devours it in one bite.
“Hey, only I’m allowed to do that!” John shouts in anger, charging at the boy and kicking him in the shin, hard. The boy cries out, clutching his shin in one hand.
“John!”
“Oh no … “John mutters as he turns to see his aunt walking briskly towards him, an angry look on her face.
“John! What have I told you about fighting? Oh how embarrassing, come along we’re leaving now!” Mimi hisses as she grabs john by the arm and pulls him towards to the gate.
“Oh Mimi, please, can I just say goodbye?”
“Hurry then. I’ll be waiting by the gate.”
John rushes back to a dumbfounded looking Paul.
“Your name’s John?”
“Yeah, sorry about that, I’ve got to go now James.”
“My name’s not James, it’s Paul.”
“What?!” John laughs.
“You didn’t let me finish telling you my name,” Paul mumbles, blushing as he takes a deep breath before continuing, “Thanks for sticking up for me John.”
“No problem Paul,” John says with a slight smile. “I have to go now, see you.”
Hamburg, 1960.
“You’re very pretty y’know, for a bloke anyway,” says the drunk sailor standing next to Paul, in the alleyway next to the Kino.
Paul laughs in reply, too drunk to really care what the man is saying. The stranger comes closer, stumbling slightly on the uneven cobblestones.
“Can I kiss you?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Paul warns, stepping away from the man. “I know someone who wouldn’t be happy about that.”
“Oh come on, just one,” the man brings his face closer to Paul’s, ready to taste those lips, before he is halted by a hand placing a firm hold on his shoulder. The man turns his head to face an extremely angry John Lennon.
“Excuse me, mate,” John bites out, containing his fury. “But I’m the only one allowed to do that.”
And with that the man is shoved aside and forced to watch as John pins Paul to the nearest grubby wall and claim him with a passionate kiss. The darker haired boy puts up no resistance, on the contrary the man notices how Paul’s legs widen to accommodate John’s left knee and allow it to grind against his groin. They both groan and the man finds himself unable to look away. He continues to gape as they finally pull away from each other, Paul draping his arms around Lennon’s shoulders, both breathing heavily.
“Thanks Winston,” Paul smiles and hums as John runs his nose along the other boys jaw.
“No problem James.”