Rain - McLennon

1965

"We just HAD to get caught in the rain," Paul grumbled. "Now me hair is wet."

"Don't be such a baby," John scoffed. "It's not that bad, quit whining. Besides, it's only water."

"Arsehole," he muttered.

"Thank you." He took a small umbrella out of his pocket and opened it.

"Why do you have that?" Paul asked.

"I had a feeling. Now don't complain anymore, or else I'll put it away." John held it over them. "Better, Princess Paulie?"

"Yes." He rolled his eyes. "Even though we're already wet."

"Nothing's ever good enough for you, is it, sass master?" He shook his head. "'Woe is me, everything could always be better!'"

"That's not how I sound," Paul pouted.

"It kind of is." John watched the raindrops slide down the umbrella. "I can always put this away."

"No."

"Alright."

"How far is the hotel? I need to change." Paul grimaced at his soaked trousers.

"I thought I said no more complaining, McCartney. Now I might have to punish you." John stopped walking.

"Oh yeah, how?" he smirked. Then he was pushed onto the wet grass. "JOHN!"

"Paul!" he mocked, jumping on top of him. The slippery grass caused them to slide a few more inches.

"Great, now I'm all wet!" Paul struggled to sit up.

"So am I, and I think that's fair." John still perched on top of him, then leaned down to where their noses were touching. "Plus I like seeing you underneath me."

"You shut up." He turned his head away.

"Oh, no." He turned his head back. "You look at me when I'm speaking to you."

"Yes, Your Highness." Paul stuck out his tongue.

"Why, you little," John growled.

"Yes?" He batted his eyelashes.

"You're impossible." He reached a hand out, stroking his raven hair. Then his hand moved down to his cheek, which he used to gently cup his face. "Paul."

"John."

The kiss was tender, not too rough, filled with little pecks in between. Paul slowly parted his lips to give John better access, which he took full advantage of. When both men pulled away, they were completely drenched.

"Wow," John whispered.

"Yeah, wow." Paul allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "John, I love you."

"Well, I happen to love you." He picked up the discarded umbrella. "Ready to go?"

"No." He snatched the umbrella from him, tossing it aside.

"Paul! What the- mmph?!" His eyes flew open as sugary lips covered his own once again. A little rain never hurt anybody.