One Has to Look Grown-Up
Title: One Has to Look Grown-Up
Time: 1957.
Pairing: Paul/George.
Warnings: Don't expect much! This is not an extention of "Do You Want to Know a Secret". It's just a scenario I wanted to use.
Scenario: "If we wanted to do anything grown-up we worried about George looking young. We thought ‘He doesn’t even shave… can’t we get him to look like a grown-up?’
Once, George and I had gone to see the film The Blackboard Jungle. We had to go and see the film, just for the title song. I could just about scrape through the sixteen barrier. Even though I was baby-faced, I was just about able to bluff it in the grown-up world; but George couldn’t. He had all the attitude, but he was really young looking. I remember going into his back garden and getting a bit of soil and putting it on his lip as a moustache. It was ridiculous, but I thought ‘He looks the part - we’ll get in!’" - Paul McCartney (Beatles Anthology)
“It’s not gonna work!”
“It is gonna work!”
“Don’t put on too much.”
“I won’t.” Paul giggled, “I’m not gonna send you to the cinema looking like you rolled in flaming mud; I want it to look real! You wanna see the film, don’t you?!”
“Yeah.”
“Well then trust me!”
Paul rolled his finger through the dirt track in the back of the Harrison’s tiny garden, just behind the outdoor lavatory.
“Paul, if you do this wrong, all that’ll happen is that we’ll get there, and they’ll say who the hell is the guy with dirt on his face?”
Paul sniggered, standing and grasping onto the back of George’s head.
“Stay still.”
“Bloody ‘ell!”
The older boy ran a dirtied finger lightly over the top of the younger’s lip, smoothing the mud in a way he deemed satisfactory.
“This film better be worth it!”
“Stop moving your mouth!” Paul tut, “It’s not working… It’s not showing up.”
“Get more then…”
“Purse your lips.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Like when women put on lipstick. Like this!”
Paul demonstrated with his own lips, sucking in his cheeks and pouting out as an example . George grinned.
“Oh aye, and how did you know that eh? Something you’re not tellin’ me?”
“Shut up!” Paul giggled, then lightly hit across the younger boys arm, “Come on! Do you wanna do this or not?”
George rolled his eyes, imitating what he’d just been shown as Paul scooped a fresh measure of dirt onto his index finger. He pulled George’s head forwards, pressed his finger harder across the top of his lips as he smeared the dirt more effectively onto the young boys face.
“Is it working?”
“Stop moving!!”
“Ouch!!”
“Well stop MOVING!”
“Are you even doing anything??”
“George!!” Paul snapped. “Some time today would be nice!”
“Urhh, Paul, it’s embarrassing!”
“It’s working, it looks good. Just shut up for a sec…”
George frowned, and squirmed slightly as Paul’s fingers pushed and probed onto his face. Really, going through all this effort seemed quite unnecessary. He was only a couple of years too young to see the damn film anyway. And there couldn’t be anything in it that he hadn’t seen before. Just what content could a bloody movie hold that would call for Paul to be smearing flaming mud across his face??
“There.” Paul announced. “Done.”
“What… does it look like a moustache?”
“Yeah, it looks good.”
“Lemme check the mirror.”
Paul smirked as George pushed open the door to the lavatory, observing himself critically in the mirror.
“Paul. This does NOT look like a moustache. This looks like some idiot has smeared dirt on my face and I don’t have a shower.”
“It looks like you haven’t shaved. You look sixteen! You do! It’s only cos you KNOW. They won’t know. And they won’t even look at you that closely.”
George groaned, utterly unconvinced. If somebody pulled him up on this he’d never be able to live it down.
“There’s… there’s a bit too much just there.” he muttered, pointing to the side of his lips, “take some of that off.”
Paul rolled his eyes, stepped into the tiny lavatory next to his friend and licked his fingers, pulling George once again towards him as he started wiping some dirt off with his saliva.
“Urgghh, Paul what the HELL are you doing??”
“What?”
“That’s grose!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby!”
“Now I’ve got mud AND spit on me!”
“Yeah!” Paul grinned, “You look great.” and he continued dabbing George’s face with his wet finger.
“I can’t believe this.” George groaned.
“Stop whining, it’s just saliva, it’s not like it’s in your mouth.”
George scowled. “No. Just on my face. Thanks.”
“Have a look now. Is that better?”
George turned back to the mirror, studied once again his amateur moustache imitation.
“Yeah.” he mumbled, “It looks fine.”
“You sure? Actually… I think there’s a bit too much on the other side.”
“No! No! You’re not puttin’ your dribble on me again!”
“Oh come oooon!” Paul taunted, “Let me get it!”
“No! Get off!”
Paul grabbed the younger, squirming boy around the neck, laughing wildly as George pushed and struggled against Paul’s stronger hold. He fell backwards against the sink, and Paul licked his fingers hastily, holding George down with his weight. George grabbed hold of his wrists, holding them away from him.
“Paul! Geeeoofff me!! Stop it!”
“Come on Georgie, let me sort you out!” The older boy laughed
“You’re SO weird! Can you just… Paul!... GET OFF!”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“Bloody hell, will you GIVE UP already??!”
Paul giggled, letting his arms go limp, and pulling his body off George. “Alright! Alright!” he sighed, “Have it your way.”
George watched him suspiciously for a second, before loosening his grip on Paul’s wrists. Paul’s arms fell to his sides, and he leaned casually back against the lavatory wall. “Ready to go then?” he asked chirpily.
George continued to eye him suspiciously, before muttering, “Bloody weirdo.” and making to leave the lavatory.
Paul merely sniggered.
“Are we gettin’ the bus then?” George asked as he wandered back down the garden path, “Or shall I ask for a lift?”
“I dunno. It’s up to you. Oh… hang on a sec, George.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got something there…” he motioned to the side of his lips.
“Huh? Where?”
“Just there.”
“What is it?”
And suddenly Paul’s lips were on George’s, tightly pressing, as his hands grasped either side of George’s face, holding him steady. George’s shocked protests fell muffled against Paul’s grasping hold, his arms pushing at Paul’s stomach in vain as he attempted unsuccessfully to free himself.
After what seemed like hours, though was probably a mere couple of seconds, Paul released him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and chuckling to himself as he watched George’s scandalised expression.
“What the FUCK was that, Paul??”
“Oh come on! You were asking for it!”
“You got it in my mouth, you queer!”
Paul raised his hands to cover his mouth, giggling wildly into his hand at the sight of George’s confused and disgruntled state. George ran a finger over his attacked lips, as though trying to rid himself of some disease Paul might have found it funny to plant on him.
“You’re so weird.” He muttered again, heading towards the door to his house.
“George?”
“WHAT??”
Paul grinned. “Um… we… we might need to re-apply your moustache. I dunno who you’ve been making out with, but half of it has gone.”
George frowned.
He observed Paul scathingly.
And then he sighed.
“Fine. Put it on again.”
“Ooooh, just try and stop me!”
“But stop being weird!”
Paul giggled; clearly very much enjoying George’s confusion. “Oh come on Georgie! You know you love it!”
“Stop it.”
“You’re so irresistible George!”
“Stop it!”
“I think it’s the moustache that did it for me! I like a real man!”
“Stop it, will you?!”
“What do you say we forget the film, hmm? Take this somewhere more comfortable?”
“Jesus, you’re SO annoying!”
“Oh say it again! I love it when you talk dirty to me!”
George couldn’t help let a grin start to appear across his face, and turned around to stop Paul from seeing. He scooped a bit of dirt across his finger, and forced it roughly towards Paul’s mouth.
“Ahhh! No!!”
“Here! YOU talk dirty!”
“Stop! Stop!”
“Gee Paul!” George mocked, “Don’t be such a baby!”
Paul laughed; his mouth opening and giving George just enough room to force in the grubby finger. Paul screamed out in disgust, pushing George’s hand away through a haze of hilarity, and spitting onto the floor in revulsion.
“Grose George!!”
“Yeah well. Serves you right.”
“Okay, okay!” Paul gasped, “We’re even! Come on, we’re gonna miss the bloody film!”
“Right.” George smirked, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “I’m sorry I had to take things to that level.”
Paul giggled. “Come ‘ere then. Let’s do this moustache thingie.”
He brushed his finger through the soil, and began - once again - smoothing it over his friends’ upper lip.
In the end, nobody even checked their ages, and the whole thing proved pointless.
But it served for a good memory anyway.
Time: 1957.
Pairing: Paul/George.
Warnings: Don't expect much! This is not an extention of "Do You Want to Know a Secret". It's just a scenario I wanted to use.
Scenario: "If we wanted to do anything grown-up we worried about George looking young. We thought ‘He doesn’t even shave… can’t we get him to look like a grown-up?’
Once, George and I had gone to see the film The Blackboard Jungle. We had to go and see the film, just for the title song. I could just about scrape through the sixteen barrier. Even though I was baby-faced, I was just about able to bluff it in the grown-up world; but George couldn’t. He had all the attitude, but he was really young looking. I remember going into his back garden and getting a bit of soil and putting it on his lip as a moustache. It was ridiculous, but I thought ‘He looks the part - we’ll get in!’" - Paul McCartney (Beatles Anthology)
“It’s not gonna work!”
“It is gonna work!”
“Don’t put on too much.”
“I won’t.” Paul giggled, “I’m not gonna send you to the cinema looking like you rolled in flaming mud; I want it to look real! You wanna see the film, don’t you?!”
“Yeah.”
“Well then trust me!”
Paul rolled his finger through the dirt track in the back of the Harrison’s tiny garden, just behind the outdoor lavatory.
“Paul, if you do this wrong, all that’ll happen is that we’ll get there, and they’ll say who the hell is the guy with dirt on his face?”
Paul sniggered, standing and grasping onto the back of George’s head.
“Stay still.”
“Bloody ‘ell!”
The older boy ran a dirtied finger lightly over the top of the younger’s lip, smoothing the mud in a way he deemed satisfactory.
“This film better be worth it!”
“Stop moving your mouth!” Paul tut, “It’s not working… It’s not showing up.”
“Get more then…”
“Purse your lips.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Like when women put on lipstick. Like this!”
Paul demonstrated with his own lips, sucking in his cheeks and pouting out as an example . George grinned.
“Oh aye, and how did you know that eh? Something you’re not tellin’ me?”
“Shut up!” Paul giggled, then lightly hit across the younger boys arm, “Come on! Do you wanna do this or not?”
George rolled his eyes, imitating what he’d just been shown as Paul scooped a fresh measure of dirt onto his index finger. He pulled George’s head forwards, pressed his finger harder across the top of his lips as he smeared the dirt more effectively onto the young boys face.
“Is it working?”
“Stop moving!!”
“Ouch!!”
“Well stop MOVING!”
“Are you even doing anything??”
“George!!” Paul snapped. “Some time today would be nice!”
“Urhh, Paul, it’s embarrassing!”
“It’s working, it looks good. Just shut up for a sec…”
George frowned, and squirmed slightly as Paul’s fingers pushed and probed onto his face. Really, going through all this effort seemed quite unnecessary. He was only a couple of years too young to see the damn film anyway. And there couldn’t be anything in it that he hadn’t seen before. Just what content could a bloody movie hold that would call for Paul to be smearing flaming mud across his face??
“There.” Paul announced. “Done.”
“What… does it look like a moustache?”
“Yeah, it looks good.”
“Lemme check the mirror.”
Paul smirked as George pushed open the door to the lavatory, observing himself critically in the mirror.
“Paul. This does NOT look like a moustache. This looks like some idiot has smeared dirt on my face and I don’t have a shower.”
“It looks like you haven’t shaved. You look sixteen! You do! It’s only cos you KNOW. They won’t know. And they won’t even look at you that closely.”
George groaned, utterly unconvinced. If somebody pulled him up on this he’d never be able to live it down.
“There’s… there’s a bit too much just there.” he muttered, pointing to the side of his lips, “take some of that off.”
Paul rolled his eyes, stepped into the tiny lavatory next to his friend and licked his fingers, pulling George once again towards him as he started wiping some dirt off with his saliva.
“Urgghh, Paul what the HELL are you doing??”
“What?”
“That’s grose!”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby!”
“Now I’ve got mud AND spit on me!”
“Yeah!” Paul grinned, “You look great.” and he continued dabbing George’s face with his wet finger.
“I can’t believe this.” George groaned.
“Stop whining, it’s just saliva, it’s not like it’s in your mouth.”
George scowled. “No. Just on my face. Thanks.”
“Have a look now. Is that better?”
George turned back to the mirror, studied once again his amateur moustache imitation.
“Yeah.” he mumbled, “It looks fine.”
“You sure? Actually… I think there’s a bit too much on the other side.”
“No! No! You’re not puttin’ your dribble on me again!”
“Oh come oooon!” Paul taunted, “Let me get it!”
“No! Get off!”
Paul grabbed the younger, squirming boy around the neck, laughing wildly as George pushed and struggled against Paul’s stronger hold. He fell backwards against the sink, and Paul licked his fingers hastily, holding George down with his weight. George grabbed hold of his wrists, holding them away from him.
“Paul! Geeeoofff me!! Stop it!”
“Come on Georgie, let me sort you out!” The older boy laughed
“You’re SO weird! Can you just… Paul!... GET OFF!”
“I’m trying to help you!”
“Bloody hell, will you GIVE UP already??!”
Paul giggled, letting his arms go limp, and pulling his body off George. “Alright! Alright!” he sighed, “Have it your way.”
George watched him suspiciously for a second, before loosening his grip on Paul’s wrists. Paul’s arms fell to his sides, and he leaned casually back against the lavatory wall. “Ready to go then?” he asked chirpily.
George continued to eye him suspiciously, before muttering, “Bloody weirdo.” and making to leave the lavatory.
Paul merely sniggered.
“Are we gettin’ the bus then?” George asked as he wandered back down the garden path, “Or shall I ask for a lift?”
“I dunno. It’s up to you. Oh… hang on a sec, George.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got something there…” he motioned to the side of his lips.
“Huh? Where?”
“Just there.”
“What is it?”
And suddenly Paul’s lips were on George’s, tightly pressing, as his hands grasped either side of George’s face, holding him steady. George’s shocked protests fell muffled against Paul’s grasping hold, his arms pushing at Paul’s stomach in vain as he attempted unsuccessfully to free himself.
After what seemed like hours, though was probably a mere couple of seconds, Paul released him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and chuckling to himself as he watched George’s scandalised expression.
“What the FUCK was that, Paul??”
“Oh come on! You were asking for it!”
“You got it in my mouth, you queer!”
Paul raised his hands to cover his mouth, giggling wildly into his hand at the sight of George’s confused and disgruntled state. George ran a finger over his attacked lips, as though trying to rid himself of some disease Paul might have found it funny to plant on him.
“You’re so weird.” He muttered again, heading towards the door to his house.
“George?”
“WHAT??”
Paul grinned. “Um… we… we might need to re-apply your moustache. I dunno who you’ve been making out with, but half of it has gone.”
George frowned.
He observed Paul scathingly.
And then he sighed.
“Fine. Put it on again.”
“Ooooh, just try and stop me!”
“But stop being weird!”
Paul giggled; clearly very much enjoying George’s confusion. “Oh come on Georgie! You know you love it!”
“Stop it.”
“You’re so irresistible George!”
“Stop it!”
“I think it’s the moustache that did it for me! I like a real man!”
“Stop it, will you?!”
“What do you say we forget the film, hmm? Take this somewhere more comfortable?”
“Jesus, you’re SO annoying!”
“Oh say it again! I love it when you talk dirty to me!”
George couldn’t help let a grin start to appear across his face, and turned around to stop Paul from seeing. He scooped a bit of dirt across his finger, and forced it roughly towards Paul’s mouth.
“Ahhh! No!!”
“Here! YOU talk dirty!”
“Stop! Stop!”
“Gee Paul!” George mocked, “Don’t be such a baby!”
Paul laughed; his mouth opening and giving George just enough room to force in the grubby finger. Paul screamed out in disgust, pushing George’s hand away through a haze of hilarity, and spitting onto the floor in revulsion.
“Grose George!!”
“Yeah well. Serves you right.”
“Okay, okay!” Paul gasped, “We’re even! Come on, we’re gonna miss the bloody film!”
“Right.” George smirked, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “I’m sorry I had to take things to that level.”
Paul giggled. “Come ‘ere then. Let’s do this moustache thingie.”
He brushed his finger through the soil, and began - once again - smoothing it over his friends’ upper lip.
In the end, nobody even checked their ages, and the whole thing proved pointless.
But it served for a good memory anyway.