It was 1965, 2:44 in the morning, and the world famous Beatles were on their American tour. All four band members had barely got any sleep the past few nights, as per usual. Which made it even more odd when Paul was awoken by a hand on his shoulder and a figure standing over his bed. Paul groaned, eventually opening his eyes and seeing the dark figure. Paul's eyes widened as he tried to wrack his brain on what to do. Sleep still hung over him, and he was a bit slow. He glanced over to the bed on the other side of the room, seeing no figure in between the sheets. Instead of going on Paul's first instinct- which was to punch the man -he threw one of his pillows at the figure instead.
"Get to bed you git."
The figure cackled and leaned down to eye-to-eye level with Paul. The familiar sarcastic John Lennon voice pierced Paul's ears.
"Evil never sleeps, Paul!"
"Well maybe evil knows when to shut up and lay there silently."
John remained silent and watched as Paul turned over and pulled the sheets up over himself farther.
"We'll have time to shut up and lay silently when we're dead, c'mon! We have been cooped up in here practicing for half the day yesterday. Brian even threatened to take the ciggies away from us if we didn't behave and practice, remember?"
Paul grunted in response, shifting a bit. John frowned, pulling the covers down from Paul's grasp.
"John what the actual hell?"
Paul looked up to John and John held a finger out as if to silence him.
"I know you've already made your point or whatever, but just listen."
John walked over to his bed, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a plastic baggy. Paul immediately recognized the aroma.
"How did you-?"
John put a finger to his lips and smirked nodding towards the door. Paul sighed, sliding out from under the covers and then stopping before he reached John.
"And where do you suppose we go Johnny?"
John frowned, pondering this for a bit, then nodded to the door.
"Just follow me, Macca."
John said in a bit of a falsetto voice, heading towards the door. Paul bit his lip, taking one last glance at his bed, then sighed and proceeded to follow the older man. John lead them down a hallway and into-
"A supply closet, really? What are we, six?"
Paul criticized, looking at John and John shrugged.
"It's either this, or no pot for Paul."
Paul grumbled, then groggily stepped inside the tiny area, resting his back against the wall and then sliding down into a sitting position. John did the same against the door, propping himself against it in case someone tried to come in.
After a short while, both musicians were high and the smoke fogged up the small supply closet. Paul took a long drag of the drug, and then resentfully handed it off to John.
"See? Good to relax every once in awhile."
Paul chuckled, biting his bottom lip and looking up at the ceiling. Everything and yet nothing crossed his mind, and after a few seconds of staring up at the ceiling, he looked back at John. He watched as he inhaled the drug and the way a small smile showed on his lips. Paul smiled in response, reaching for the joint.
"Uh-uh, what's the magic word?"
"Give me the bloody joint or I'll kill ye?"
John chuckled, handing the drug to Paul, Paul snatching it and inhaling it as if it were his lifeline. John watched intently, the way Paul's plump lips wrapped around the joint, sucking in the marijuana. His eyes glazed over, taking the joint out from between his lips and then exhaling, closing his eyes. John never really realized how beautiful Paul actually looked. Normally, he'd push away these thoughts, but his numbed brain didn't know any better. Paul looked back to John, their brown eyes catching each other's gaze.
"What're ye lookin' at?"
Paul asked a bit snappily, John simply sniffed and then smiled.
"You."
Paul chuckled, his words began to slur together as he spoke.
"You're high off your arse, Lennon."
"Maybe, but you're one to talk, Macca."
Paul frowned, taking another inhale of the joint, then handing it back to John. John took it, but wished he didn't. The drug was almost completely depleted and Paul was holding out his hand for the drug to be handed off to him. John held his breath, and on a whim, leaned over to Paul, and crashed their lips. Paul gasped and John used this moment to breathe the marijuana into the younger boy's mouth. John pulled away, coughing into his shoulder and then backing up from Paul, staring at the boy intently. Paul swallowed the breath that John had given him, his eyes widening.
"John?"
Paul questioned with a small cough, John simply stared at him, Paul trying to avoid his gaze.
"Wh-What was that?"
Paul's heart began to beat rapidly in his chest, from anger, embarrassment, or some other unknown emotion, he didn't know. What he did know, was that John had just kissed him. Finally, he gained enough courage to look at John. The older man was smiling, a dopey kind of smile, but with a hint of the sarcastic Lennon smirk.
"Aw, was that Paullie's first kiss?"
John teased, knowing fully well it wasn't, but deciding to say the witty, half-assed comment anyways.
"Shut up you git, I'm being serious."
John's grin faded away, and he stared at Paul for a little, not saying anything. Paul's face was a soft red, his lips a little darker than normal. His hair was matted, and he was sweating from what John guessed was the smoke that heated up the room. His eyes were glossed over, and his pupils looked dilated. John looked back down to his lips, they were slightly parted as he breathed heavily.
"Well?"
Paul pressed, looking into John's eyes frantically. John moved closer to Paul, Paul backing up a small bit out of instinct. John's face was so close to the other male's that Paul could smell the marijuana on his breath. John paused for a moment, looking to Paul's lips once again, trying to give Paul an indication of what he was about to do. Giving that Paul didn't move away, John leaned in, capturing those luscious lips once again. John started off kissing Paul slowly, letting Paul get used to the pace. Although it didn't seem Paul was reciprocating very much. John pulled back, looking into Paul's eyes, trying to read his expression. Paul swallowed roughly and then looked back at John, his eyes pleading.
John leaned back in, connecting their lips again. Paul seemed to be trying to keep up this time, and John grinned into the kiss. He ran a hand up Paul's thigh, pushing his chest against the younger man's. Paul was stuck between the wall and John, who he couldn't believe was kissing him. Paul wrapped his arms around John's neck, causing him to slide down the wall farther. John adjusted their position, placing his hands on either side of Paul. John squeezed Paul's thigh, eliciting a small noise from the younger man. After a couple more seconds of their makeout session, Paul pulled away, shaking his head.
"No, no- John this is- this is illegal!"
John frowned as Paul pushed his chest, but he backed up nonetheless.
"So?"
John responded, searching in Paul's eyes for any other hint of continuance.
"So? So we're breaking the law! Do you really want to see the next headline: 'Lennon/McCartney, Actually Queers!'?"
John grunted, leaning on his elbows. He stared at Paul for a little while, his face stoic and expressionless.
"If it means I get to be with you."
Paul's heart sank, his eyes dropped to the floor. He heard the shuffling of John scooting a little closer.
"John."
Paul said softly, John lifting Paul's chin gently, staring into his big doe eyes.
"How long have you felt this way?"
"Longer than I care to admit."
John sighed and looked away, taking his finger from Paul's chin.
"I'm sorry, Johnny, I can't do this with you."
John looked up longingly as Paul began to fidget with his baggy shirt and stand up.
"I really am very sorry. I won't say anything about it though, yeah?"
John inhaled deeply, then sighed, nodding slowly. Paul took one last glance at John before opening the supply closet door and heading back to their room. John sat in the supply closet, thinking about everything that just happened. True love and heartbreak all in the midst of ten minutes.
John stayed in there for another hour, staring at the smoke that began to dissipate. He heard footsteps, and then the door swung open to reveal a soaked McCartney.
"Hey, why are you still in here? Get back to the room with ye!"
He seemed to ignore everything that had just happened only an hour or so ago, John felt a pain twist in his chest.
"You're gonna get arrested now c'mon will ye?"
"If not getting arrested for this shit, I'll get arrested for being queer anyways so why bother?"
John mumbled, Paul frowning and leaning down towards his face. His hair dripped with water, the towel around his waist snug against his hips.
"You sure you really wanna be getting that close to me? I might kiss you again."
John mocked, eventually standing up, making Paul stumble backwards a little.
"Johnny, I'm sorry. I really am, how can I prove to you that I'm truly sorry?"
"You can start with a blowjob for one."
Paul frowned, crossing his arms.
"I'm being serious."
"So am I."
Paul rolled his eyes, patting John's shoulder as he walked back down the hall to their room. John eventually followed, and he didn't even remember his shower, or teeth brushing, or when he slipped into bed. Mainly because a certain someone still happened to be occupying his mind.