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Again, posted to beatlesslash and xposted here.
Another one! More randomness. Also from a while ago and finally typed now. John/Paul, 433 words. Lines stolen from a song (obviously) and also a phrase that I stole from Into My Life, if you've read it you'll probably catch what it is.
“Ah, pretty Paulie, what’s the matter?” John chirped as he flounced into the hotel room.
Paul just growled into the pillow he had buried his face in.
“Alright then, we’ll do this the hard way.” John pounced on the bed, forcefully rolling Paul over, prying his pillow away, sitting on top of him and tickling his ribs.
“Gerroff, John, you stupid git,” Paul growled, giving John a vicious shove that almost landed him on the floor.
John recovered and flopped down on the bed next to Paul. “I mean it! Talk to me, Paulie, what’s gotten you so sad? You haven’t gotten out of bed in days.”
“Jane,” Paul mumbled. “She left me. Found out about…well, the dishonorable activities I’ve been up to.”
“Ah, you mean the way you’ve fucked your way around the world,” said John delicately. “Yeah, that would do it. Sorry, mate.”
“And I know it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run anyway, it’s not even like I’m completely devastated and oh-no-what-will-I-do-without-her, and it’s not missing the sex either because, well, that’s never been a problem here in Beatledom” - John grinned lasciviously - “but it’s more like I just need someone to love.”
John was silent for a minute. “Could it…could it be anybody?”
“Uh…what?”
“Well, Paulie, if you just need somebody, anybody, to love, I hereby humbly offer meself to this thankless task.”
“What?! You’re joking right? I’m not a fucking queer!”
The look on Paul’s face was like a slap in the face, but John had been slapped quite often and didn’t let it slow him down.
“Well, I never thought I was either, but every time I see you I get less and less sure,” John said, slightly irritably.
“Fuck off,” Paul growled, turning red with rage. He didn’t notice the tears welling up in John’s eyes.
John just stood there pitifully, unwilling to move and unable to speak, staring at his shoes and blinking back tears.
Paul hesitated. When the first tear splashed onto John’s shoe, he swore inwardly. Stupid, he thought. You could have just played it off as a joke and not yelled at him.
John was still just standing there, Paul was overwhelmed with guilt, and that annoying thing called curiosity had grown bored of the cat and was preparing itself for a violent attack on Paul’s pride.
“So, what?” he said coldly. “You want to…to fuck me, is that it?”
John flinched. “Well, it sounds horrible when you put it that way.”
“How would you put it, then?” Paul sneered.
John hesitated, and then finally said quietly, “I love you, Paul.”
Another one! More randomness. Also from a while ago and finally typed now. John/Paul, 433 words. Lines stolen from a song (obviously) and also a phrase that I stole from Into My Life, if you've read it you'll probably catch what it is.
“Ah, pretty Paulie, what’s the matter?” John chirped as he flounced into the hotel room.
Paul just growled into the pillow he had buried his face in.
“Alright then, we’ll do this the hard way.” John pounced on the bed, forcefully rolling Paul over, prying his pillow away, sitting on top of him and tickling his ribs.
“Gerroff, John, you stupid git,” Paul growled, giving John a vicious shove that almost landed him on the floor.
John recovered and flopped down on the bed next to Paul. “I mean it! Talk to me, Paulie, what’s gotten you so sad? You haven’t gotten out of bed in days.”
“Jane,” Paul mumbled. “She left me. Found out about…well, the dishonorable activities I’ve been up to.”
“Ah, you mean the way you’ve fucked your way around the world,” said John delicately. “Yeah, that would do it. Sorry, mate.”
“And I know it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run anyway, it’s not even like I’m completely devastated and oh-no-what-will-I-do-without-her, and it’s not missing the sex either because, well, that’s never been a problem here in Beatledom” - John grinned lasciviously - “but it’s more like I just need someone to love.”
John was silent for a minute. “Could it…could it be anybody?”
“Uh…what?”
“Well, Paulie, if you just need somebody, anybody, to love, I hereby humbly offer meself to this thankless task.”
“What?! You’re joking right? I’m not a fucking queer!”
The look on Paul’s face was like a slap in the face, but John had been slapped quite often and didn’t let it slow him down.
“Well, I never thought I was either, but every time I see you I get less and less sure,” John said, slightly irritably.
“Fuck off,” Paul growled, turning red with rage. He didn’t notice the tears welling up in John’s eyes.
John just stood there pitifully, unwilling to move and unable to speak, staring at his shoes and blinking back tears.
Paul hesitated. When the first tear splashed onto John’s shoe, he swore inwardly. Stupid, he thought. You could have just played it off as a joke and not yelled at him.
John was still just standing there, Paul was overwhelmed with guilt, and that annoying thing called curiosity had grown bored of the cat and was preparing itself for a violent attack on Paul’s pride.
“So, what?” he said coldly. “You want to…to fuck me, is that it?”
John flinched. “Well, it sounds horrible when you put it that way.”
“How would you put it, then?” Paul sneered.
John hesitated, and then finally said quietly, “I love you, Paul.”