I Need You
Title: I Need You
Rating: PG-13 (because of cussing - they are men from Liverpool after all)
Summary: Their fights can be harsh, but they always make up so beautifully. It's what makes them best friends after all. Set around 1964 during the Beatles first tour of America and takes place right before their third appearance on the Ed Sullivan show.
Author Note: So, this is my first ever fic to post online and I'm really nervous because it seems kind of pointless and just blah in my opinion, but I posted it and it's forever online now. It's un-betaed so any mistakes are my own.
A.N. 2: I got an itch to write a John and Paul story, so I decided to sit down and see what came out. It turned out to be a short little piece, even though I have a much longer story in my head. I may write one or two more parts after this, but who knows.
I don't own the Beatles and I can't say that anything that happens in this story happened in real life - what a drag.
John began drumming his fingers against his guitar as he and the other lads waited impatiently behind the curtain at Ed Sullivan’s studio. Third week in a row they were on; suppose he should feel thankful for the exposure - kind of hard though when the sheer screaming volume of the girls in the audience waiting to see the fab four had increased tenfold as they waited impatiently for Ed Sullivan to introduce them. His head started pounding.
“Wha’ the bloody hell are they doin’ out there, killing cats?” John growled as he quickly pressed his hand to his forehead.
“Jus’ showing their love and devotion for me, Johnny,” Paul replied, as he slid next to John and flashed him a smile, nudging him slightly.
“Shut your gab, Macca, before I make you.”
John glanced over at Paul, who still wore a beaming smile, returning a quick grin of his own.
It was one of the things he loved about his relationship with Paul. They just got each other. They knew when the other one was only making a jab in good humor hoping to rile up a response. Sure lines could be crossed on occasion when they were caught up in the heat of anger or when the person receiving the jab was in a pissy mood. Usually, though, it was pretty smooth sailing between the two.
Sometimes, John was amazed at how easily the two made up because lord knows he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He could be a down-right asshole and for no reason, snapping at anyone who got in his way.
Paul usually handled this mood pretty well - even when John attempted to get a rise out of him, lashing out with things he didn’t even know he was capable of saying. Normally, Paul would let out a sigh, but never give into John’s attempt to start an argument. However, on the rare occasions that both men were caught in one of those moods, it was like watching two rolling thunderstorms collide.
“Fuck John. Can you shut up for two bloody minutes? I don’t need ye hollering at me.”
“I honestly can’t believe I still put up with your shit McCartney. Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. If I want to yell at you, I’ll fucking yell at you. You bloody well deserve it and you know it.”
“Oh, because it’s always me who does something wrong. Never you: John fucking Lennon. You’re a god damn hypocrite.”
“Fuck off Paul. Fuck off and find someone else to put up with you because I don’t want to deal with you anymore. You’re not worth it. I don’t need you around.”
They would yell, curse, throw things, but no matter how bad it got eventually the tension would fall from their shoulders and one would pull the other man close, hugging him tightly almost afraid if they let go he would disappear.
Sometimes John would start their arguments on purpose, especially when the scheduling got rough and he could feel the fame trapping him. He needed some excuse to hug the other man tight as loneliness and feelings of inadequacy overwhelmed him.
Laying his chin on Paul’s shoulder, John would press his body against him seeking comfort, and smile slightly as he felt Paul grip him back equally as tight, as they muttered apologies quietly in each other’s ears.
“Sorry, Johnny. I’m sorry. Dammit. I can be a right selfish git sometimes.”
“You aren’t the only one Paul, yea?”
“Suppose it does take one to know one.” Paul pulled back slightly, flashing John a smirk.
“Wanker. And here I was ready to apologize and everything. Remind me not to waste any of me rare apologies on you in the future.”
Paul allowed his mouth to fall open as his eyebrows shot up and his hand was brought to his chest; he made a sorry attempt to hide away a grin as he attempted to convey how shocked he was that he had almost received an apology from John.
Jon grabbed Paul by the back of the neck, shaking his head and laughing. “If it’ll wipe that god-awful expression off yer face, I’m sorry too.” John looked down at his feet before he quietly continued to mutter, “And I do need you, ya know.”
Paul’s eyes filled with affection as he hauled John back over into a vice-like hug. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me as easily as you think,” Paul muttered into John’s ear.
John nodded as he pushed his face into Paul's neck.
Paul’s breath and his deep, low voice in John’s ear sent shivers down John’s spine. Sure their fights could be ugly, but making up with Paul was almost equally as beautiful.
John glanced over his right shoulder at Paul, who moved past him and was now checking the amp connection to his base one last time before they were to go on. His gaze shifted forward again when he heard Ed Sullivan take the stage. The audience began to scream louder - if that was even possible - excited by what they would see in only a few seconds.
“Ready, Johnny boy?”
John felt a quick slap to his bum as Paul moved away from him, getting into position next to George just as the curtain began to rise.
John had barely a moment to process the slap Paul had delivered before he heard Paul shouting out, “One, two, three, four,” and the opening guitar strums of Twist and Shout filled the studio.
Rating: PG-13 (because of cussing - they are men from Liverpool after all)
Summary: Their fights can be harsh, but they always make up so beautifully. It's what makes them best friends after all. Set around 1964 during the Beatles first tour of America and takes place right before their third appearance on the Ed Sullivan show.
Author Note: So, this is my first ever fic to post online and I'm really nervous because it seems kind of pointless and just blah in my opinion, but I posted it and it's forever online now. It's un-betaed so any mistakes are my own.
A.N. 2: I got an itch to write a John and Paul story, so I decided to sit down and see what came out. It turned out to be a short little piece, even though I have a much longer story in my head. I may write one or two more parts after this, but who knows.
I don't own the Beatles and I can't say that anything that happens in this story happened in real life - what a drag.
John began drumming his fingers against his guitar as he and the other lads waited impatiently behind the curtain at Ed Sullivan’s studio. Third week in a row they were on; suppose he should feel thankful for the exposure - kind of hard though when the sheer screaming volume of the girls in the audience waiting to see the fab four had increased tenfold as they waited impatiently for Ed Sullivan to introduce them. His head started pounding.
“Wha’ the bloody hell are they doin’ out there, killing cats?” John growled as he quickly pressed his hand to his forehead.
“Jus’ showing their love and devotion for me, Johnny,” Paul replied, as he slid next to John and flashed him a smile, nudging him slightly.
“Shut your gab, Macca, before I make you.”
John glanced over at Paul, who still wore a beaming smile, returning a quick grin of his own.
It was one of the things he loved about his relationship with Paul. They just got each other. They knew when the other one was only making a jab in good humor hoping to rile up a response. Sure lines could be crossed on occasion when they were caught up in the heat of anger or when the person receiving the jab was in a pissy mood. Usually, though, it was pretty smooth sailing between the two.
Sometimes, John was amazed at how easily the two made up because lord knows he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He could be a down-right asshole and for no reason, snapping at anyone who got in his way.
Paul usually handled this mood pretty well - even when John attempted to get a rise out of him, lashing out with things he didn’t even know he was capable of saying. Normally, Paul would let out a sigh, but never give into John’s attempt to start an argument. However, on the rare occasions that both men were caught in one of those moods, it was like watching two rolling thunderstorms collide.
“Fuck John. Can you shut up for two bloody minutes? I don’t need ye hollering at me.”
“I honestly can’t believe I still put up with your shit McCartney. Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. If I want to yell at you, I’ll fucking yell at you. You bloody well deserve it and you know it.”
“Oh, because it’s always me who does something wrong. Never you: John fucking Lennon. You’re a god damn hypocrite.”
“Fuck off Paul. Fuck off and find someone else to put up with you because I don’t want to deal with you anymore. You’re not worth it. I don’t need you around.”
They would yell, curse, throw things, but no matter how bad it got eventually the tension would fall from their shoulders and one would pull the other man close, hugging him tightly almost afraid if they let go he would disappear.
Sometimes John would start their arguments on purpose, especially when the scheduling got rough and he could feel the fame trapping him. He needed some excuse to hug the other man tight as loneliness and feelings of inadequacy overwhelmed him.
Laying his chin on Paul’s shoulder, John would press his body against him seeking comfort, and smile slightly as he felt Paul grip him back equally as tight, as they muttered apologies quietly in each other’s ears.
“Sorry, Johnny. I’m sorry. Dammit. I can be a right selfish git sometimes.”
“You aren’t the only one Paul, yea?”
“Suppose it does take one to know one.” Paul pulled back slightly, flashing John a smirk.
“Wanker. And here I was ready to apologize and everything. Remind me not to waste any of me rare apologies on you in the future.”
Paul allowed his mouth to fall open as his eyebrows shot up and his hand was brought to his chest; he made a sorry attempt to hide away a grin as he attempted to convey how shocked he was that he had almost received an apology from John.
Jon grabbed Paul by the back of the neck, shaking his head and laughing. “If it’ll wipe that god-awful expression off yer face, I’m sorry too.” John looked down at his feet before he quietly continued to mutter, “And I do need you, ya know.”
Paul’s eyes filled with affection as he hauled John back over into a vice-like hug. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me as easily as you think,” Paul muttered into John’s ear.
John nodded as he pushed his face into Paul's neck.
Paul’s breath and his deep, low voice in John’s ear sent shivers down John’s spine. Sure their fights could be ugly, but making up with Paul was almost equally as beautiful.
John glanced over his right shoulder at Paul, who moved past him and was now checking the amp connection to his base one last time before they were to go on. His gaze shifted forward again when he heard Ed Sullivan take the stage. The audience began to scream louder - if that was even possible - excited by what they would see in only a few seconds.
“Ready, Johnny boy?”
John felt a quick slap to his bum as Paul moved away from him, getting into position next to George just as the curtain began to rise.
John had barely a moment to process the slap Paul had delivered before he heard Paul shouting out, “One, two, three, four,” and the opening guitar strums of Twist and Shout filled the studio.