Mclennon one shot

John hopped off the double decker bus with Paul and stood in front of a pub called the Cavern Club. He glanced at the younger lad and smiled, "Hey Paul, you're a grown man yeah? Nineteen."

The boys walked into the club casually, relieved that no one asked questions. Paul followed John to the bar, feeling uneasy. He watched as the older lad went and sat at one of the stools at the long counter where they served drinks.

"Well, sit down, Paul, no one's gonna bite ye," John said.

Paul took a seat in the stool next to him, and looked around anxiously. He knew it was very uncool of him to look and be so nervous, but he couldn't help it. He hardly ever did these kinds of things, he was just a chubby little fifteen year old. John was the tough guy, really, the teddy boy that did what he pleased when he pleased.

"Paul, stop looking so scared, you'll blow it for the both of us," John growled. He looked at the bartender and said, "Yes, two beers, please."

The bartender set two mugs filled with beer in front of them. Paul glanced at John, and watched as he chugged half the beer.

"Not thirsty?" John was sneering, knowing very well that the younger lad didn't drink much.

"Not for this.."

John sighed and pat Paul's back, "Tell you what, ye don't like it after a couple sips, we'll leave right now and go somewhere else. If you enjoy it, I'll give ye another one, on me."

Paul nodded and hesitantly went for the mug in front of him. He took a sip, and immediately made a face. John patiently waited for Paul's next reaction. After recovering from the horrid aftertaste, Paul proceeded to take another sip. Then another, and another, until eventually, the mug was empty.

John watched Paul stare at the bottom of the mug and smiled, "I s'pose you fancied It? Would you like another?"

Paul looked at John and grinned a silly grin, "Yes. Wait. I dunno, John, I can't go home hammered..."

"Relax, ye can't get drunk off two beers, Paul," John glanced at the bartender, "Two more, please."

As Paul drank his beer, John studied him. The boy looked like such a bird, with his big eyes and long lashes. He was pretty, John could admit that. He was dying to know if he was the only bloke that thought so, actually.

When Paul finished his second, he turned to John and asked, "Can I have another?"

John raised a brow and chuckled, "Well Paul, I said you wouldn't get drunk after two beers..."

"Please?"

John hesitated and looked into Paul's eyes, hoping that maybe he would be able to see Paul battling his conscience, having second thoughts about drinking another mug of beer, but there was nothing. Only eagerness. He sighed, feeling an odd sense of regret. He looked at the bartender, "Another beer, please."

• • •

"Paul, you're drunk."

"Am not!"

"You are, and we need to get you home, now," John hated sounding like his Aunt Mimi, but someone had to take care of Paul. It was Paul's fourth beer, and he was already ready to pass out. He was dreading the look Mr. Mccartney would give him, it was now late in the evening, Paul was supposed to be home!

He blinked, and didn't see Paul in front of him anymore. John's heart began racing, this couldn't be happening. Not only did he get McCartney's son drunk, but he lost him too! He turned around, frantically searching for a little fifteen year old with greased back hair and a ridiculous white jumper. He was nowhere.

He walked to the back of the club, past the drunk men, past the musicians taking a break, past two officers chatting up two birds. All the way to the back where there was a table without chairs, but that didn't phase a young Paul McCartney and a young bird. No, they were sitting on top of it, kissing and moaning, and in John's opinion, being a bit dramatic with the whole scene.

Instead of grabbing Paul right away, he just stood there feeling a strange feeling. He felt sad and upset, and he didn't know why. Maybe he felt like a loser because he wasn't the one with a pretty bird in his arms? He settled on that reasoning, although he didn't completely agree on it. He went forward and grabbed Paul's arm roughly, yanking him off the table.

"Off we go," he said, pulling Paul away from the bird and all the way out the club. He continued to pull Paul down the street to the double decker bus, but he began to feel like he was dragging him instead. He turned around, and saw Paul with his eyes half closed. Poor lad would be on the floor if it wasn't for John holding him up by his arm.

"Bloody hell... " John muttered. He picked Paul up bridal style, and made it to the bus. He sat Paul beside him, although Paul ended up leaning against him instead of sitting on his own.

"John... " he muttered.

"What?"

"It's spinning, isn't it?"

John chuckled, "That's the alcohol, mate. Works wonders, doesn't it?"

• • •

John was relieved that the door wasn't locked, the sun was gone but the sky wasn't completely dark. He walked Paul quietly up the stairs, trying hard not to wake the napping father or little brother Mike. He finally made it to Paul's bed, and he lay him there, putting a blanket over him.

He watched Paul's peaceful sleeping face, and became irritated. He still couldn't figure out what it was about Paul... Whatever it was made him feel a multiple number of things. Anger, for one... But he couldn't help but feel protective over him either. He felt a pang of regret, he realized that he took away a piece of Paul's innocence by the events that happened today, and that didn't feel good.

"John, I don't feel good," Paul grumbled.

"I know, love..." John frowned at his reply, but didn't change what he said. He didn't notice until now that Paul was actually quite beautiful, like a bird. Before Paul could say anything else, he turned and ran down the stairs only to find a strict Mr. Mccartney tapping his foot with his arms crossed. He was standing by the door.

"You know I don't like you very much, don't you?" he told John.

John opened his pack of cigarettes, lit one for himself, and smiled politely, "Oh, don't worry, you're not the first. Have a nice night, sir."