All Those Years Ago - Lennison Fan Fiction - Beatles Slash Fan Fiction

Chapter eight : 1963, Moving forward while looking back :

George slowly opened his eyes, yawning and stretching his hands over his head. It was still night out and he'd fallen asleep in the tour bus, the old engine thumping its way through the British countryside, headlights shoving the darkness aside to make way for the heavily loaded vehicle. He felt Ringo curled up against him, deep asleep, the side of his face pressing against George's shoulder. He didn't mind. Ringo and he had grown close since Hamburg although they hadn't slept with one another again after that one night they shared. George had been confused by then, trying to figure things out, and Ringo had been there for him. Neither he nor the drummer had brought it up since and their friendship had remained intact. 

George looked around the bus, dark eyes focusing on John and Paul huddled closely together a few seats in front of him. He pursed his lips, jealousy making him frown before he could catch himself, sighing. George figured they were probably still working on that song, Seventeen. He thought that what they had was pretty good but they rarely seemed to care about what he, or anyone else for that matter, thought. George knew his mates had a good writing partnership and that it was prolific for the band, but he felt awfully left out. Paul used to be his best mate and John had been... well. George wasn't sure of what term to use when it came to describing what John had been to him but anyway he felt that the both of them were far too preoccupied with one another to pay him any sort of attention. He didn't like it but he didn't see what he could do to put an end to it, his attempts at joining the writing duet having been rebuked so far. 

George slipped out of his seat, careful not to wake Ringo, and walked over to his mates, sitting down in the empty seat across from them. "Still working on that song?" he asked curiously, trying to sound casual. He pulled out his pack of ciggies from his coat pocket and tucked one between his lips, lighting it. John was so engrossed in the writing of the song he barely noticed George sitting there, myopic eyes narrowed against the harshness of the small light shining upon the stubborn guitar tabs sketchily sprawling on the strip of paper they used. 

Paul was better-behaved and he smiled up to George. "Yeah. Got a bit of trouble with the bridge. But Johnny's going to figure it out, hey?" Paul patted John's head playfully, making him snort and bat his hand away. George looked down, blowing out a cloud of smoke into the somewhat stale air of the bus, suddenly suffocating to him. John hadn't even bothered to look into his direction and to acknowledge his presence but George hid his disappointment with an easygoing smile. "Sure. I'm good at figuring yer bullshit out, Paul," John drawled with a smirk, looking up and seemingly finally noticing his mate smoking in front of them. 

George studied his friends, trying to make his dark eyes appear more tired and dull than he actually felt, so that neither Paul nor John, who'd proven to be quite perceptive, would catch on. He'd picked up on the fact that they'd grown quite close since they'd began to write together, leading George to wonder if something was going on between them. If that was the case though, neither of them had let on anyway, leaving George completely in the dark on that aspect of their friendship. He looked away from them once again, turning his head to glance at Ringo, the drummer still sound asleep and curled in his seat, his mouth slightly agape. 

John looked back to the music sheet and then outside although it was so dark he couldn't see a thing, the dusty window sending back the image of his mate sitting there, looking pale and drawn and so fucking handsome. He refused to meet George's eyes for a few seconds before he realised he was being stupid, leaning in to steal his pack and take a ciggie. "You done cuddling with Ringo, then?" He said, trying to sound more amused than anything, making Paul chuckle good-naturedly and nudge him in the ribs. 

George laughed but it sounded forced even to his own ears. John often took minor swipes at him about Ringo, but in a manner that would appear like playful ribbing to anyone that didn't know better. "Honeymoon's not over yet," he winked, meeting John's eyes for a moment. They always looked smaller when he wore his glasses but they were still of that lovely hazel colour he adored. John snorted, sending his mate a grin, looking at him in the eyes and purposefully ignoring the warmth spreading inside of him when he realised George and he were joking with each other again, awkwardness aside.