A Most Curious Place - Chapter Nine (J/P Slashfic, Rated R)
Author: Lennonsmuse
Summary: Small hint of the slash yet to come.
Chapter Nine: And If All Else Fails...John’s POV:
I was supposed to be making some sort of favourable impression upon the Yankbird, wasn’t I? Attempting to win ‘shagging rights’, in other words?
Well, of course, it didn’t happen. Not yet, anyroad...but never you mind that. John Lennon does not give up easily, I tell you! Will not go down without a fuckin’ fight. If my little visit to their table was to serve nothing more but getting’ dear Nicole thinkin’ about me, then I’m certain it did precisely that!
Even if she was perturbed by me presence there.
S’no matter, I say. No matter.
I can be quite an obnoxious lad, but what better way to garner interest and attention for meself? Hey, it fucking works, alright?
Well, s’only way I know to work it, at least. Only thing that’s worked for me all these many years.
*sigh* Wish I could be more like him though.
Like Paul, you know....the type of person who demands attention without ever even askin' for it.
They’re dancin’ together right now....him an' that bint....and he, no doubt, thinks I don’t notice. I’m most expert at pretending that I don’t.
But I do. Can’t help but notice really, can I? In fact, I seem to have this increasingly annoying habit of noticing every single fucking thing there possibly can be to notice about him. It’s always gone that way...ever since we met.
Alas, you notice as well, that my heart doth betray this insufferable outer display of aloofness and uncaring on my part....but it's just not fuckin' true.
Fuck it. I wish I could just stop meself from feelin’ what I do, but I can’t, y'know.
Best ‘ave another drink, I think as I down what’s left in me glass. Don’t know how many drinks this makes. I’ve lost count, actually....not that they seem to be 'avin' the desired effect on me anyroad....
“So....where’d yer lil’ friend run off to then, aye?”
I twist round on me seat to get a better look at the asker of the question in question. Hmmm....not a bad sort at all. Quite handsome, actually. Youngish. Posh type. Blonde. Eyes that look as though he’s already had too much to drink himself and a bit bloodshot at that. If they weren’t so bloodshot I’d probably surmise their true colour as bein’ some variety or other of blue.
My instinct is to respond that my ‘friend’ is out there on the dance floor with some Yankbird I’m quickly growing to hate despite itchin' to get into her knickers, but that’d be far too confusing for the poor semi-inebriated lad, so instead I respond, “Dunno, really. Reckon she’s already had enough of me for the time bein’. Where’s yours?”
Yes, I’d noticed this very same fellow havin' some Butch-type bird with him earlier on this evening...at the same time that Dora was doing her damnedest to chat me up whilst pouring drinks down her own throat.
“Oh, her?” he asks with a larf and a dumbfounded blink of bloodshot orbs, “She’s found someone else to go home with. She’s only a close mate of mine, anyhow. Not a date.”
Not that I’d asked him if she was his 'date'.
And suddenly like always 'appens in me own half-drunken state, I feel the lil' ole Monster o’Cruelty creeping up me spine to rear its ugly head at the poor unsuspectin’ twit.
“So, she’s found ‘erself a real man, ‘as she?” I ask with a deadly smirk. “And apparently not one she cares sharin’ with the likes of her good ole ‘mate’ either, I take it.”
He giggles nervously at me. “Oh, well....not that I’d even be interested if she was.”
“’Course, you wouldn’t.” I add, looking him up and down slowly, much to his own awkward pleasure I detect. I sense the silent quiver of his knobby little knees practically knocking against one another beneath the tight faggity-looking gray trousers he's wearing.
*Yet another sigh* Of all things to happen to me tonight....getting pulled at by some bleedin’ pouf. Fan-fucking-tastic, Winston. Just what you were fookin’ hoping for, innit?
“Though....” he continues prattling on, his bloodshot-blue eyes all but fluttering flirtatiously as they give me a good once-over “....if she’d seen me with the likes of you before she’d left here, I’m most certain she’d have likely been more keen on that whole sharing bit.”
“Ah.....tell me somethin’ Ole Chap....” I blink, leaning close enough to make the lad uneasy...letting the warmth of my liquored-up breath graze his crisp white shirt collar as I ask, “....do I look like a fuckin’ queer to you?” I lean back again, coolly....me eyes fastened on his, not about to release them for even one second.
I can almost visibly detect the hint of a shiver crawling up his backbone....or rather, lack thereof.
“Y..you look....” he pauses, gaze lowering tentatively to chance a glance at my mouth “....absolutely beautiful. Quite stunning, really...especially so close up. I was just thinking that the bird you were with earlier must’ve been utterly daft to let you out of her sight.”
Poor thing....looks like he just shat himself actually. Either that or he’s on the verge of coming in his shuddering little trousers. Same sort of facial expression for both, I’d reckon....on him, at least.
“What’s yer name then?” I ask, easing a pack of fags from the breast pocket of me jacket and patting one outward to slip gracefully between me lips.
And just like fuckin’ magic, a flickering yellow flame suddenly appears at its tip....attached to a match....also attached to this bloke’s awkward tremblin’ hand. I grasp the fumbling hand to still it, and slowly inhale enough to light me cig.
“Uh....R...Roger...” he stammers and gulps, eyes darting up to look into mine as he does.
“How fitting.” I muse unsmiling as I release his hand, pausing for a beat to watch as the flame crawls down the shaft of the match dangerously approaching his fidgety thumb and forefinger. “You’d best put that out, Roger...lest you wind up gettin' yerself a nasty little burn.”
“Oh....” he chirps, shaking the offending object in order to kill its fire. He gives me an uncertain smile, “Yes, thank you. An...and...there’s no need for you to introduce yourself. I already know who you are....”
"Really?” I ask, brows arching with as much interest as I can currently necessitate. “Well, do tell us, Roger....how could you possibly know that?”
“Well, John....you see....I’m a friend of Geoff Emerick’s. You know....an assistant engineer at EMI stu....”
“Right...” I nod impatiently, “...I know who he is....”
“Well, I....I’ve gone by th...there on occasion while you boys were recording....” Roger swallows visibly as he stammers on, everything but his knees knocking by now “....and tha...that’s when I first saw you....and then...of course, more recently...there was the news coverage about your trip to the United States...”
“Ah....saw all that, did ya?”
“Oh, yes, and....”
“Let me guess....” I drawl smoothly, taking another puff from me fag, “....it was luv at first sight then, was it, Roger?”
“Well...I...I...really just...you know...really wanted t....”
“Couldn’t help yerself, could’ya, Ole Boy? Wanted a bit of Johnny the veddy first time you ever set one queer eye upon ‘im, aye, mate?”
“I....I....”
“’Magined me shuckin’ yer trousers down your tremblin’ thighs and then forcin’ y’round roughly....pressin’ y’belly up against a bleedin’ wall to give yer achin’ little arse’ole a right brutal jabbin’, din’ya, Roger?”
“Oh, good heavens....d...dear....christ...I...can’t....” he stutters breathlessly.
Easing off the bar seat, ciggie clasped tightly between me teeth, I slip directly in front of poor ole Roger and slide an ever-so-sneaky hand down between us, goin’ straight for his groin to grab hold of a stiffening cock that’s no doubt throbbin’ by now beneath the fly of his bloody trousers.
“Ooo.....s’all that jus’ fer me, luv?” I ask him in a deep raspy voice, blowing smoke directly in his fluttering bloodshot eyes as he emits a faint gasp of desire. I swipe the fag from me lips with the unoccupied hand and lean in to whisper, “How nice. Wanna take a lil’ walk with me outdoors then?”
“Good God, yes....” he breathes out in obvious relief that I’ve finally asked.
Well, someone ‘ad to, din’t they? If we’d waited for ole Roger t’do it ‘imself, we likely would’ve been waitin’ all fuckin’ night long and I just don’t ‘ave the patience fer that.
I’m not queer or anything, mind you. I’ve already told y’that before, ‘aven I? But I do diddle in that sort of thing a bit every now and then. Did it somewhat in Hamburg on occasion, too....in between all the whores and backstage trysts and what not.
And well....since me libido’s in high gear at the moment and Paulie’s occupied with that fuckin’ twit Yankbird of his, given me second choice, I’d much rather have a willin’ Roger than a Dora who’s already been done by us both before.
At the very least I might get an enthusiastic head-bob round the ole knob from this one.
‘Sides, the bloke does seem quite eager to please, doesn’t he?
Paulie’s POV:
This is what should be considered the perfect night in the life of a young fellow like meself; being in the company of an attractive, intelligent girl whose main interests just happen to be music and writing...as well as musicians, apparently....who’s obviously attracted to me, has had enough to drink to loosen up her inhibitions a bit and is currently separated from her steady boyfriend by an entire ocean and thousands of miles.
I should be over-the-fucking-moon at me prospects for tonight.
But instead, I’m more worried whereabouts John’s wandering off to with that stupid-looking blonde-headed wanker.
“Looks like John’s found himself a friend.” Nicky smiles to me as we leave the dance floor, apparently havin’ just seen the same thing I did.
That’s no fucking friend, I want to tell her. ‘Cause if it was, then I’d know him as well, yet I can’t even recall havin’ ever seen the fuckin’ sod before.
“Maybe comin’ here wasn’t such a good idea.” I remark a lot more moodily than I’d intended as we slide back into our booth. I spot one of the hostesses and wave her over, “Hey, luv....another for me and the young lady here, please....apparently on John.”
She nods and smiles at me knowingly, “Ah, straight away, honey...and yes, John’s already taken care of it for you, Paulie.”
Right. John’s obviously taking care of a lot of things tonight by the looks of it, I think furiously as I lean back against the smooth leather seat and have a glance at Nicky, who’s shooting me a rather odd look.
“What?” I ask her, trying to smile and be as innocent about the whole thing as possible.
“You look upset.”
Why does she have to be so damned perceptive?
“Well, I’m not.” I lie.
“Listen, Paul....” she continues, looking down at and fiddling with her left forefinger as she does “....I’m sorry about the things I said about John before, alright? He’s your friend, and I shouldn’t have....”
“I’m not upset about that....” I try me best to insist, albeit in a quiet and even tone.
“It doesn’t matter. I still shouldn’t have said what I did and....”
I shake my head adamantly at her, feeling the liquor I’ve already had tonight at work, “No, Nicky. You were perfectly right to say what you did, okay? John’s just a cad...a real barmy, smarmy lil’ arsehole....and half the time I don’t even know why I bother being such good friends with him meself, y’know? He’s just one of those problematic sorts of people...and....well....me dad always has warned me about ‘ow dodgy he is, y’see, but I just can’t let well enough alone, so I have to do the total opposite of what the old man thinks is best sometimes and wreak complete fuckin’ havoc on everything. I mean, you said it yerself earlier. Dad believes he’s a bad influence, and I probably just need to admit it and get on with me own life, y’know....just leave him be...”
She suddenly looks horrified, “But the band.....”
I shrug nonchalantly, “The band is alright, y’know...but I don’t even know if that’s what I’m gonna be doin’ for the rest of me life yet, do I? I can’t very well just send everything else straight to Hell for the band’s sake, ‘cause who knows what’s next? Maybe I will go to university and be a professor or summat. I mean...ye never know....”
Her hand moves to mine and rests upon the back of it as it’s pressed tight to the table, “Okay...exactly what the Hell just happened, Paul, and why are you talking like this all of a sudden?”
“’Cause, I’ve only just realised I need to quit bein’ so daft and listen to folks sometime, y’know?” I sigh in defeat to her, and then thank our hostess for the new drinks she’s just brought over, “Everyone can’t be wrong, can they? And everybody I know’s warned me ‘bout John at sometime or other, but I ‘aven’t been lis’nin....and I really should, y’see. He just...he's just.....” I can’t even finish what I’m sayin’ I’m so goddamned exasperated over it, so instead I pick up the fresh drink I know I don’t really need and give the stuff a right good long gulp before I look at her, “Look, I’ve got to slip out of doors fer some fresh air, ‘kay?” I slide out of the booth and gaze back at the poor bewildered bird all apologetic-like, “Now....don’t you go anywhere...I’ll be right back, yeah?”
Damn him! Damn John Lennon! Just damn him all to Hell, that bloody, rotten bastard!
Why the fuck should I be runnin’ outside to look after the likes o’him, that dirty fuckin’ prick...yet here the fuck I go anyroad....just like some stupid pathetic little fucking moron, all fuckin’ worried about where he’s snuck off to with that smarmy-looking blonde fucker he already practically had wrapped ‘round his dick when he walked outta here a little while ago.....
Goddamn it!
What the bloody Hell is wrong with me, aye? Why does it bother me so fucking much that John went off someplace with that little rat bastard? I shouldn’t even fucking care, but....
But.....
Well, shit! I do, alright? I fucking care! There. Said it. Fucking admitted it.
I care.
Plus it worries me what could happen, ‘cause he almost got his fuckin’ skull bashed in Hamburg for this same sorta’ shite, y’know....goin’ off with some seedy fuckers he didn’t even know....drunk outta his fuckin’ gourd....followin’ ‘em down alleyways and shit....
This one particular night....there was one of ‘em even had a knife on ‘im....
Hate to think what could’a happened to John if I hadn’t got there in time. Scares the fuck right outta me to even think of it now. Dunno what I would’ve done, y’know...if they’d fuckin’ killed ‘im....
Dunno what I’d do if I ever lost Johnny....
“What ye lookin’ all panicked for then?” comes an all too familiar Scouse-lilt from the darkness at me far right.
My eyes narrow hatefully as I turn on him. “You goddamn fool....” I snap, spinning round to face him, steadying meself from staggering....breathing more shallow than it even should be. I stalk over to where he’s stood and jab a tight balled-up fist hard into his chest, “I oughta fuckin’ cripple ye!”
“Oww...” John crows irritably, frantically rubbing at the part of his chest where I hope my fucking fist left a huge red mark beneath his shirt “...what the fuckin’ ‘ell....”
“Bugger you...ye fookin’ bastard....buyin’ our drinks for the night, then stalkin’ off like that!” I curse him through clenched teeth, “I don’t fuckin’ need you, alright, John? Not like ye might think I do! So, you jus’ go straight to fuckin’ Hell....and take every lil’ queer ye pick up in some fuckin’ bar right along with ye!”
To piss me off even more, he doesn’t even react to my tirade except to emit a sharp little laugh, “Ah, lookie who’s drunk now, will ye?”
Ignoring the tease, I look around me for signs of life other than us two. “So, where is ‘e, anyway...yer little blonde friend? Spittin’ a bit of ye out back ther' in the alleyway, is he?” I ask, gesturing toward the darkened alcove around the pub’s corner.
Rubbing at his chest once more, John leans casually back against the cold stone wall and takes a cigarette out of his breast pocket, lighting it, “Nah...I sent ‘im on ‘ome....”
Cooling off somewhat now that I can actually believe he really did what he says, I walk closer to where he’s leaning and take the ciggie from his hand, scrunching up my nose as I study the butt of it, “Ew....never mind. Can’t really trust where those lips of yers might’ve been, can I?”
“Fuck you....” he laughs, snatching his ciggie back and taking out the pack to offer me another, “Here, ‘ave one of yer own then since ye can’t trust me possibly filth-infested mouth.”
“Ta.” I thank him, taking one and lighting it with me own match. I draw a deep chest full and exhale, the nicotine having an instant calming effect on the alcohol raging in my bloodstream, “Damn...I’m sorta drunk, John...” I confess softly, watching the walk beneath my feet begin to sway like a little gray concrete ocean.
“I’ve noticed.” he blinks at me while drawing on his smoke.
“Got mad at ye for leavin’, too....”
“Noticed that as well.”
I take another puff. “So, what’d ye go for then?”
“Thought it’d be best if I did.”
“Stupid bastard.” I exhale.
“You should get back inside with Nicky.” he tells me quietly. “’Nother bloke might come along an' steal ‘er away if ye don’t.”
The dizziness in me head is making me feel light-footed as well, so I perform a little dance on the walkway, ciggie clasped in my lips, “What ye think of that then?”
“Ye look like a fuckin’ twat. Never heard of a bass-player can’t dance worth a shite.”
“Eh, fuck off....” I giggle, then stop to look at him, “Was worried about ye though, Johnny....that’s why I came out ‘ere, y’know.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Macca. I can take care of meself.”
“Oh, no, ye can’t....” I shake my head but quickly find that it makes me even more unsteady, so I stop it abruptly. Phew! Can’t handle that. Not tonight. Little movement as possible is probably for the best. “I was remem’brin’ that one night in Hamburg, y’know....with the blood stains on front o'yer shirt....”
“At’twas a long time ago, Paulie....”
“Not long enough to make me forget it though.” I focus my gaze on him, studying his eyes as he stares back at me. Dead silent. “They would’ve killed ye if Pete and I hadn’t....”
“Long fuckin’ time ago, I said!” he growls, cutting me off sharply.
“So....what’d ye send ‘im off for then?” I ask....taking another drag from the smoke, “...that yella-headed bloke y’had....tonight....”
It seems to take an eternity for him to answer my question...so I wait.....
And wait some more....staring....feeling the backs of his eyes ignite and burn like fuses behind two loaded black cannons that I’m waiting for an explosion from.
Then.....it comes.
“’Cause I couldn’t make ‘im who I wanted ‘im t’be.” he responds softly, dark eyes unblinking as they slice clean through to me drunken soul. His gaze shifts away from me quickly after that and he takes to staring instead at the reddish ember at the tip of the fag clasped between his fingers.
There’s so many fuckin’ things I could say to that...so many things that I probably should say, but I can’t even force a single fucking one of ‘em.
Too drunk....or just too fucking daft....
Or too much in denial as well, I reckon...and hearin’ the distant words of me da comin' back to haunt me....
"Ye bloody saw what he did to Wooler with yer own two eyes, didn’t ye, Son? Isn’t that enough to tell ye what’s the matter with that Lennon bloke then...knowin’ full well why he did what he did?”
But I don’t want to know, Dad. No matter what he does...or what anyone thinks he is, John’s still the best friend I’ve ever had.
So the only thing I do is nod my idiotic head and suck quietly at the ciggie again, waiting a second before I break the awkward silence.
“I’m ‘eadin’ back inside ‘fore Nicky wonders where I’ve gone off to.” I announce to him. “You alright then?”
“Question is...are you alright?”
“I'm fine.” I find meself lying for what must be the fiftieth fuckin' time tonight alone. “Stay outta trouble, yeah? See ye tomorrow at the studio.”
I hear him chortle behind me as I head back toward the pub entrance, stubbing out the spent ciggie butt on the walk underneath me boot along the way. “Ye best nurse that hangover ‘fore it gets here, Son....’cause it’s gonna be a’screamin’ and a’bitchin’ at ye come mornin’.”