Such Great Heights [s/a]
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Paul
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Summary: "I don't wanna go down without a bloody riot."
Author's Note: Something to get the ball rolling again
"I could be with you anywhere, John, you know? And I'd just be happy." They lay on the ground, stretched spread eagle and oblivious to the world as it were (or lack thereof, really) around them.
"Bullocks. Not under water, you couldn't."
Paul gives his friend a sly look and punches him in the arm.
"Well no matter where I am, I can't breathe around you, Lennon."
"Why?"
"You take my breath away, of course."
John and Paul close their eyes, subject now to endless fits of laughter, and they're on the floor of the studio in the middle of night, in the warm embrace of darkness after all the machines are shut off and everyone has gone home. Paul and John open their eyes and it's the middle of day time; they're high above Liverpool, high above England, high above their troublesome obligations, up up up in a hot air balloon powered only by good intentions and the hope of something better among the benevolence of the clouds.
"You wanker," John says through his hysteric schoolboy bouts of giggling, "You bloody liar."
"What makes me a liar?"
"We're up way too high to be telling the truth!"
"Well you're here with me aren't you?"
What really takes John's breath away in those moments is the altitude, and how he wouldn't mind falling into the sea that's miles below them, just like a puddle from way up high. Falling falling falling, a sensation like none other.
"Y'know," He says, "Liverpool doesn't look half bad from this high up." Paul shakes his head,
"Everything looks perfect from far away, John."
"Even us?"
They pause, smile at each other, and Paul puts an arm around John's shoulders, scoffing.
"Nah, mate, we're perfect from close up, too."
"You and that ego of yours, McCartney, it'll be the death of us one day."
Their balloon starts to decline with the horizon and the playful banter, and as they near the city of which they would grow so fond someday, it's then that Paul realizes that --
"You know, they're only going to accept this when we're way up high. When they're perfect. We'll get no bloody peace before then."
"Accept what?" Paul shrugs.
"Us." A solemn nod accompanies the single syllable, and as the ground nears closer and closer, the claustrophobia beginning to set in like burning bridges around them, the realization rings in the air and is lost in the wind, forever to echo in their empty minds.
"What do we do, then?"
Come down now, they can hear the city say to them, just high enough to be the envy of all envies, but low enough to see the danger of the elephant in the balloon - falling, falling from such a great height as theirs.
"I don't wanna go down without a bloody riot."
The apathy at the end of their trip extracts sighs from their mouths and from their hearts as the faces of the people become more defined and unforgiving.
Come down now.
John thinks once again again about falling into the puddle, more like a swimming pool now, and about Paul's words that sent them up in the air in the first place.
"Paul?"
"Yeah?" He smiles at the younger briefly, grabs his hand, and they plummet over the edge of the basket. They begin to laugh again, laugh and laugh and as they to near their destination, John says quietly, barely audible over the whistle of the wind,
"So maybe I was wrong about the under water bit."
The studio never looks the same under the gaze of tripping eyes.
A/N: AGH I'M SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING MY J/P SLASH DUTIES. School has been rather horrible, especially now that marching season has ended and the essays are beginning. Half of the next chapter of Star Thief is also written down in my notebook, and it should get finished soon, seeing as I have an extended weekend
I missed this comm <3
Pairing: John/Paul
Disclaimer: Fiction.
Summary: "I don't wanna go down without a bloody riot."
Author's Note: Something to get the ball rolling again
"I could be with you anywhere, John, you know? And I'd just be happy." They lay on the ground, stretched spread eagle and oblivious to the world as it were (or lack thereof, really) around them.
"Bullocks. Not under water, you couldn't."
Paul gives his friend a sly look and punches him in the arm.
"Well no matter where I am, I can't breathe around you, Lennon."
"Why?"
"You take my breath away, of course."
John and Paul close their eyes, subject now to endless fits of laughter, and they're on the floor of the studio in the middle of night, in the warm embrace of darkness after all the machines are shut off and everyone has gone home. Paul and John open their eyes and it's the middle of day time; they're high above Liverpool, high above England, high above their troublesome obligations, up up up in a hot air balloon powered only by good intentions and the hope of something better among the benevolence of the clouds.
"You wanker," John says through his hysteric schoolboy bouts of giggling, "You bloody liar."
"What makes me a liar?"
"We're up way too high to be telling the truth!"
"Well you're here with me aren't you?"
What really takes John's breath away in those moments is the altitude, and how he wouldn't mind falling into the sea that's miles below them, just like a puddle from way up high. Falling falling falling, a sensation like none other.
"Y'know," He says, "Liverpool doesn't look half bad from this high up." Paul shakes his head,
"Everything looks perfect from far away, John."
"Even us?"
They pause, smile at each other, and Paul puts an arm around John's shoulders, scoffing.
"Nah, mate, we're perfect from close up, too."
"You and that ego of yours, McCartney, it'll be the death of us one day."
Their balloon starts to decline with the horizon and the playful banter, and as they near the city of which they would grow so fond someday, it's then that Paul realizes that --
"You know, they're only going to accept this when we're way up high. When they're perfect. We'll get no bloody peace before then."
"Accept what?" Paul shrugs.
"Us." A solemn nod accompanies the single syllable, and as the ground nears closer and closer, the claustrophobia beginning to set in like burning bridges around them, the realization rings in the air and is lost in the wind, forever to echo in their empty minds.
"What do we do, then?"
Come down now, they can hear the city say to them, just high enough to be the envy of all envies, but low enough to see the danger of the elephant in the balloon - falling, falling from such a great height as theirs.
"I don't wanna go down without a bloody riot."
The apathy at the end of their trip extracts sighs from their mouths and from their hearts as the faces of the people become more defined and unforgiving.
Come down now.
John thinks once again again about falling into the puddle, more like a swimming pool now, and about Paul's words that sent them up in the air in the first place.
"Paul?"
"Yeah?" He smiles at the younger briefly, grabs his hand, and they plummet over the edge of the basket. They begin to laugh again, laugh and laugh and as they to near their destination, John says quietly, barely audible over the whistle of the wind,
"So maybe I was wrong about the under water bit."
The studio never looks the same under the gaze of tripping eyes.
A/N: AGH I'M SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING MY J/P SLASH DUTIES. School has been rather horrible, especially now that marching season has ended and the essays are beginning. Half of the next chapter of Star Thief is also written down in my notebook, and it should get finished soon, seeing as I have an extended weekend
I missed this comm <3