November 1, Whaddon House. 12:48am

[jamesmacca]

I was bored out of my mind. The night was young and I wasn't doing a thing. I called John, but he was spending the night with Cynthia. Jane was asleep, so I decided to make my way over to Ringo's and George's flat and see what they were up to.

I knocked loudly.

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[richiestarr]

I started as I woke up, and took a slow, deep breath, and immediately wished I hadn't woke up. Sandpaper lined my mouth(when had that happened?), and for some reason... my head was itchy. Really fucking itchy. God, I hated life. And hangovers. Need to get drunk again pronto like.

I groaned and glanced around for George with some sort of slingshot or a bullhorn, looking for the something that had woken me up. To my surprise, he was nowhere in sight; had he gone out? Without me? I hadn't meant to fall asleep, he could have woken me up! I would... have probably fallen right back asleep, but it would have been nice of him...

Already flustered, I stood up, and stretched. I guess I'd woken up on my own accord-- or on my bladder's accord? I dunno, maybe I'd take a leak in a second, I just needed a quick shot to kill the bacteria in my mouth...

Oh... shit, how long had someone been knocking? I glanced up, eyes only have open, and smacked my lips a little. Looks like it's been a while. Whoever's there must be really wanted to see me... I grinned and chuckled a little. I feel so loved sometimes.

I hobbled over to the door, feeling somewhat excited and loved and broken at the same time.

"Mmh, hel--" I grinned and prepared to look down at a girl, smiling as pretty as I could, only to find I was staring at someone's chest. Someone's decidedly male chest. Bugger.

"Oh, hey Paul." I would have acted a bit more... excited, or happy to see him, polite at least, but... he had interrupted me. Using... oh, this was good, using an Irish toothbrush! Maybe I'd use it eventually, I would have to write that down. I wouldn't use it now though, not around mister McCartney, as I valued my nose and the way it wasn't... broken.

[jamesmacca]

"Hey Richie." I gave him a small smile and stepped inside. "So what are you and George up to this lovely evening?"

[richiestarr]

I stiffened and cast a quick glance. Was he accusing me of buggery? I smacked my sandpaper lips again and watched him for a second, before deciding I was being suspicious. God, I was a weird drunk, fun, but weird... weird enough to know I was weird... that's pretty strange.

I closed the door behind him and grinned at him playfully. "Care to come in? Oh no, I don't mind at all, I insist, do come in..." I chuckled. "Ah, he's off somewhere, I passed out on the couch by accident and the arseface didn't bother waking me up to invite me to whatever fun he went to go have. I'm actually going to not go to a club tonight, so I'm not going to be very fun, if you don't mind..." I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth with my forearm. "Actually, uh... I'm a bit hungover at the moment, so do you mind if I just... get drunk again? Before it sinks in?" I grinned and chuckled a little, eyebrows raised as I looked at him.

Without waiting for an answer, I walked back into the kitchen and poured myself a glass, and then, with a second of hesitation, poured him one as well. A smaller one. There.

"So what's up? What do you need?" I shoved a glass into his hand and opted for falling into a couch, successfully spilling a third of my scotch on my white undershirt. I didn't even look down; I was used to it. This is why I poured myself extra.

[jamesmacca]

"Would you like a drink, my guest? Oh yes please, I'm partched. Thank you." I mocked, grinning.

"Well, I was bored out of my mind. Can't believe that prick didn't invite me along, either." I plopped myself onto the couch. "So it looks like the two of us are going to enjoy a few drinks, like good friend's do, 'eh?"

[richiestarr]

I snorted and spilled more of my drink onto my shirt... very inconveniently on one of my more sensitive areas. Oh, god that's cold... I swallowed and tried to wipe the liquid off, not much appreciating the uncomfortable cold and the very bad placing of the spill on a white shirt... I should probably go change... didn't feel like it. Paul wouldn't notice. Besides, I'd seen his nips plenty of times, and also seen George poking them... Hamburg was a strange place...

I paused in my thinking, only to realize I'd been staring at the wet spot on my shirt the entire time. My cheeks flushed and I straightened quickly as if nothing happened. "I say we paddle him when he gets back, just like the good ol' days in school..." What good old days? You were hardly even there. I swallowed and winced. Why was I so mean to myself?

"Yeah... I suppose so..." I sighed and stared up at the ceiling preparing myself for a very boring, long and drunken evening. Unless Paul actually did something.

"Do something. Right now."

[jamesmacca]

I poured myself a glass and drank while Richie spilled his drink all over himself then continue to stare at himself. I laughed aloud.

"Do something. Right now."

I stared at Ringo, eyes wide while pouring myself another drink.

"Well...what do you want me to do?" Was he drunk enough to start...something with me? I raised my eyebrows, entertaining the idea of having a bit of fun with Richie.

[richiestarr]

I tilted my head and squinted at him. Cheeky. "I don't know, I'm not picky, christ, just... I don't know, juggle, for fuck's sake." I giggled a little and finally drank down the rest of my drink in one big gulp-- or maybe it was a few gulps. Whatever.

"Oh, hey, I know..." I grinned excitedly and stood up to walk over to him. "Write a song about me! Serenade me, you're a song writer-- here, write it in French, can you do that? I'm part French, I think..." I giggled and smiled, wobbling dangerously in front of him. "One song, one song, I just want one and then you can go back to your love songs to the hundreds of girls you've gotten, please? Your good friend Rings would appreciate it. I've always wanted to be a muse."

I laughed happily and fell into a sitting position in front of the arm chair he sat in. "I think Geo has a guitar back there... I really love watching you and John and George write." I grinned, knowing that I really didn't; it made me jealous. I want to write that, I want to be part of the writer's club.

[jamesmacca]

I just stared at Ringo. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"I, uh...alright. I'll see what I can do..." I finished my second drink and got up to get George's guitar. I can't believe I was doing this; I couldn't even speak fluent french!

I sat down, getting a great idea as I started to play.

"Ne me quitte pas, Il faut oublier Tout peut s'oublier. Qui s'enfuit deja Oublier le temps..." I sang as Jacques Brel- like as I could, grinning cheekily the entire time.

[richiestarr]

I watched him, wide-eyed and utterly fascinated, and suddenly, I was a little kid in the hospital and he was the local preacher, come to read a story to the children.

God, I hate stories from the Bible.

All the same, I watched him sing and play and how long has it been since I've smiled this wide? I couldn't remember; I was just wriggling with excited happiness, even though I had no idea what he was saying to me. For all I knew, he just called me a fatnose shithead... only with pretty notes attached. All the same, I loved it.

"Wait! W-wait-- we need to write this down, right? Will you remember?" I locked eyes with his, my hand on his knee in case I needed to stand up and get a piece of paper before the magic wore off. "I want to show George and John and Brian and Mo this, yeah? I have a fucking song-- that's awesome!" I laughed happily and fell into his leg, my teeth digging into my bottom lip, trying to hold back more stupid, drunk chatter.

[jamesmacca]

I bit my lip, trying to hold back my laughter and at the same time, not wanting to see the disappointment when he found out that I didn't write this. I had forgotten that not everyone knew of Jacques Brel.

Maybe I didn't have to tell Richie...oh but John would surely know who it was.

"Richie, sorry to disappointe you, but I didn't write this. It's by this guy who's really big over in France. They talked about him while we were over there, remember? Jacques Brel? But, if you want, that could be our song." I wink at him before laughing and finishing my third glass.

[richiestarr]

My face fell with disappointment, and I pouted a little. "Oh... uhm... did we meet him at one point?" I tilted my head, trying to remember; damn it, we must have met six different Jacques while we were in France, I couldn't memorize all of them, could I? I groaned a little and pressed my forehead to his knee, suddenly very exhausted with-- with all of this, touring, being a Beatle, drumming, being Ringo Starr-- hell, being Richard Starkey. I wanted to be someone else, see what it was like.

I wanted to be Elvis, damn it.

I glanced up at him and giggled-- where does he keep getting those drinks? I looked at the glass for a second, thoughtful. Maybe it was just the same one, and I hadn't noticed?

"Alright, Paul-- Macca-- ooh, I used John's exclusive petname, am I gonna get in trouble?" I giggled uncontrollably. "But-- but yeah, our song, m-hm... mm... mmmm..." I sighed and hummed softly, resting my cheek comfortably on his knee, my eyes drooping a little. "Mmm... Paul... I really love ya mate... we fuck up every now and then... and kiss a little..." I paused to chuckle and blush. "But you're still one of my best mates... 'kay? We're still... just..." I paused again and sighed, my eyes falling shut. "Couple of scousers from Shitterpool."

I laughed; I loved it, Liverpool, but I knew the rest of England begged to differ.

[jamesmacca]

I shook my head and laughed, leaning into Ringo as I felt the warmth of the scotch.

God, he was drunk.

"I love you too, Rich. And so what if we kiss a little? Kissing's fine." To show him so, I gave him a kiss on his cheek. "We're friends and that's all that counts. Scousers." I laughed, hoping that made sense as I poured another glass.

"So. Now, what to do with this newfound love?"

[richiestarr]

I felt the skin that his lips had been on burn up with a deep flush, and my lips parted a little with surprise. "'Ay... you're..." I paused; he was right, though. It was just a kiss. No biggie. I was being upright and prude.

I grinned lazily and crawled up to share the chair with him, and ended sitting half on him and half on the chair. Stupid, drunken giggles fell past my lips as I spoke: "I-- you'll think I-I'm crazy, but... I wanna have water... all... in here." I gestured to the entire flat, making wild motions with my arm. "I wanna lie down in it, a-and... just... get clean..."

I fell quiet for a second, and let my arm hang limply mid-air. Something about that... I thought something about that. I had an opinion on that, what I'd just said, but... it'd left as soon as it came.

I let out a slow, steady breath and let my hand fall again, relaxing completely into the chair and Paul. "I want... I-- do we have a... a lake or something? In London, we can swim in... you know..." I spoke drowsily. "Keep me from drownin' mate... 'kay?"

[jamesmacca]

"You wanna swim, Richie?" I laughed. "All right, we'll get you all nice and wet." An image of such quickly came to mind and I licked my lips, grinning.

"Mmm, I guess we could sneak into that hotel down the road, they have a pool. We can't turn your flat into a pond; Ol' Brian might get mad." I stood up, swaying a bit and trying to keep Ringo standing upright.

[richiestarr]

I paused. Swim? Damnit, I thought I was being new and original, but it'd been invented... I just forgot about it. Fuck it all. I could've made me a million bajillion pounds!

I grinned a little to myself and laughed slightly. "I can run circles around a million right now, haha..." I paused.

"W-wait... if we... if we tell Brian... he won't know." Suddenly, it was all clear: If we told Brian before we did something bad, he couldn't possibly get mad at us! Like pre-planned naughtiness, where... we told him, he knew, and by the time we did it, he wouldn't be mad. He will, by then, have come to accept it.

I burst for the door to run upstairs to Brian's place, not caring if I was only wearing my stained, untucked undershirt and most likely looked homeless. Brian had seen me naked, right? He'd seen worse... he'd seen Liverpool's Giant Monster! I broke out into a high-pitched, squeaky laugh-- oh god, was that me? Ugh. At least I had me a monster, though.

"P-Paul, hurry up-- we're gonna tell Brian we're flooding me flat before he can get mad, and we'll get in--" What's the opposite of trouble? "--we'll get in... we'll get in nothing! He'll be happy with us and give us stuff!" No he wouldn't. That was a blatant lie. Paul was gonna be mad when he found out I lied. I winced and glanced back at him. Oh well.

"M-Macca? Macs? Uh... hah, Macsimillion?" I giggled, but quickly fell silent and apologetic again. "I-- I'm really sorry I lied mate... I had to... now come on!"