You Don't Touch What's Mine

Chapter 9- Well Done, John

Are you digging that new cover as much as I am? Ah, John can just never take his eyes off of Paul...<3 here is chapter 9, which isn't that eventful, but its BUILDING to something more...intense. :)

Next chapter, awaiting on John and Paul's anniversary,

enjoy!

John skipped on his feet as he entered the school. He was whistling the tune Paul had come up with. From his bloody lyrics. He was ecstatic about that fact and that grin wouldn't leave his face. It was brilliant and catchy. Paul himself was brilliant.

And he had him wrapped around his finger.

Yeah, things couldn't be more perfect for him.

John rubbed his hands in excitement, he didn't know how much longer before he would have his arms around that sweet, oblivious boy.

"John!"

The teddyboy glanced around him, did someone call him?

"John" George appeared with books in his hands, seemingly out of breath.

"What 're you doin' here?" John raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you s'posed to be with McCartney" He sickenly rolled his eyes at how often those two hung out...

"Well, yea but I wanted to let ye know, those lyrics..."

"Yes, yes. M' genius, now run along, Harri, Macca needs to hold yer hand" John waved him off and continued walking, scanning the crowds of people for Pete, but George followed anyway.

"I know what ye diiid" He sang.

"What are you on about?" John paused and frowned at him.

"I know yer plan you twat. I dunno if Paul will ever figure it out, it's not really-"

"Leave that to me" John cracked a smile, shoving the younger boy away slightly. "Now go away, Johnny is gonna hang out with the big boys"

~

Paul's mouth was gaped, not a jaw-dropping sort of gape, just slightly opened. His brow was crooked. He expression spelled gob-smacked. He doesn't really know how long he had been staring at his notebook. Maybe about 30 seconds?

But it was lunch time, almost the end of the day. But his lunch was pushed aside, cold and forgotten.

He sat at a small table, a few of his other friends surrounding him in their own seats, eating and chatting away.