Please Please Me * McLennon * DISCONTINUED

nine

"Get me a fuckin' drink!" I shout swinging open the door like a madman and storm into the mostly empty house.

"John?" Grant asks, an amused eyebrow raised once i enter the kitchen to see the brunette standing there.

"We got whiskey?" I ask, shoving right past him and scowering the cuboards. I, no joke, get on my knees and crawls along the kitchen tiles, through and around Grant's feet.

"This is a first." He chuckles and Roger enters the room, a chuckle coming from his lips ince he sees me.

"What the fuck? Lenny?" The blonde laughs, leaning his elbows on the bench.

"I feel horrible." I explain breifly and slam the rum bottle i had found in the back of the cuboard on the bench.

"Yer don't even drink, and yer startin' with that?" Grant chuckles and i send him a warning glare. I. Feel. Like. Shit. I felt horrible after making Paul feel bad and and awkward for being so desperate for a friend. He was fun to hang out with, even if i had only done it a few times, most of them turning out badly.

"Yer date go bad?" Roger asks pulling out two glasses and some ice for us both.

"Date? Nice one, Lennon." Grant pats me on the shoulder with a smirk and leaves the room, his hands piled with crackers and biscuts.

"Not a date, but it did go bad." I say and Roger nods, getting that i didn't really fancy talking about it.

"Just please tell me, yer not gettin' shit-faced at one in the afternoon?" Roger giggles and i shrug, not really caring if i did. I didn't drink and i don't know why i chose now to try it out, but i didn't plan on stopping myself.

"Dunno yet to be honest." I say and unscrew the top, pouring some in me and Roger's glasses.

"What the bloody hell, mate?" Roger gasps and i glare at the blue-eyed bloke.

"What?" i blink at him, not having the patience to deal with anything in my way.

"Yer clearly don't know anything about drinkin'. This shit is bloody rum! Yer don't drink it fast like a fuckin' maniac!" He laughs and stares at the amount of rum in our cups, the rusty liquid almost touching the glass rim.

"I don't have the fucks to give right now." I sigh and raise the dirty liquid to my lips, gulping it down like a water after a marathon. Roger just watches me with a massive grin his face. I finish the cup in record time and slam it on the bench in victory.

"Just wait." He mutters and i frown.

Then i get what he means.

My mouth is on fire and my throat feels so thight that not even air can get through it.

"Fuck." I wheeze, punching my chest for some type of relief.

"Yer fuckin' idiot!" Roger cackles in hyterics, clearly enjoying my torture. "I warned yer." He smiles and i glare at him. Not a good time for an 'i told you so' moment.

"Yer fuckin' arse." I groan and Roger scoffs, shoving a glass of glorious h2o in my hand. I skull it greedily, but my throat still doesn't ease.

"I told yer not to, i can be right sometimes. Yer shoud try listen' to me." Roger smiles, patting me on the back and smiling smugly as he sips his rum.

"Never." i cough, sneaking him a sly grin before pouring myself another glass.

***

"Sorry, Constable, yer not on the beach job today." Jones says as he walks infront of me to the locker room as if it was a shame. I almost yell out in happiness and start dancing. Thank fuck. The beach job had cause so many of my recent problems and lack of sleep, i dreaded each and every day for it.