Come Together

1: Airplane

February 1964

John sat in the tiny airplane seat, hand propped underneath his chin. He contemplated the face of the man sitting next to him, carefully skimming his gaze over his short and soft bangs which skimmed his forehead, traveling down to his long-lashed eyes, finally landing and resting upon his soft and subtle lips. Like petals, they curved gently and plumped out, and were the color of a freshly opened spring bud...

"John?"

"Hmm?" He snapped out of his stupor and straightened up. He looked over Paul's head to see George grinning at him toothily.

The slender man gave a little shake of his mop-top. "Y'all right then, mate? Saw you zonin' off for 'bout a solid five minutes...while starin' at Paulie 'ere..."

He elbowed Paul and cackled. "I mean, 'e is known as the cute Beatle..."

John scowled while blushing despite himself. "I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout...I'm right sleepy, y'know? This bloody flight, mate, it's so boring..."

Ring poked his head around George's. "We could always make it more interesting!" he exclaimed in a fake high voice, blue eyes shining with mirth as he grabbed the side of George's head and pressed it against his own, crying out dramatically- "Oh, hold me, George, darling...!"

Paul snorted. "Wankers," he scoffed, turning towards John. "But really, Johnnie, were you not-so-subtly checkin' me out?"

John almost choked on the juice he was attempting to drink. "Aaackpppbth NO!" he said firmly, putting the cup down onto the tray table.

"You've got some on yer face..." Paul said, brushing his thumb along John's jawline. His touch was feather light and the other man shuddered.

George slapped his hand onto Paul's thigh. "Let's get drunk!" he cried.

"Mate, what?" Paul replied, chuckling, "We're on an airplane, in case you 'aven't noticed! Bloody idiot..."

"You can get the good stuff on airplanes!" Ringo interjected, "Matter 'o fact, the cart's comin' 'round righ now!"

"Shut up, Ringo dingo, you're not helpin'..." John said, but there was no real anger in his words.

"Now, now, boys..." Brian Epstein appeared in the aisle, wagging his finger. "No gettin' wasted on the plane. You have to be coherent for the fans and the press, at least, as much as you can ever be," he chuckled.

"'Ay, Eppy!" George exclaimed with mock outrage, "ye of little faith, you are..."

John rolled his eyes. "Thank God one of us has a lick 'o sense..." he muttered.

"Did you know that octopuses make gardens?" Ringo blurted.

"...What, Ringo??"

●●●

"Fuck, we almos' died!" The four young men collapsed laughing into the Beatles' limo which rapidly sped away from the sidewalks seething with screaming teenagers.

"God, I almos' got my virginity stolen back there, I did..." George shook his head with a giggle.

"Oh, piss off!" John replied instantly, "you're not a virgin, and we all know it!"

Ringo and Paul exploded into laughter. "Ha! I remember that!" the drummer gasped out in between laughs, "that was hilarious, it was!"

George snarled at him, revealing his pointy inscisors. "Well, at leas' I don't have to wank in the shower..."

"Yea, you wank in the closet, dont'cha?" Paul interjected slyly, "You really think thas' cool, mate? Come on, 's kind of ironic if you ask me."

"What do you mean?" George hissed, his pride being rapidly deflated.

"Well..." the bassist replied with a wink, "don't think I haven't seen the way you look a' Ringo 'ere..."

"Charmed." the drummer grinned, extending his right hand with a flash of his blue eyes. "Nice to meet you, George..."

"Oh, fuck off..." George slapped the hand away and turned away from Ringo and Paul. John smirked as George turned towards him.

"'Ello," John said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Like what you see?"

George blushed angrily. "AAAAIII!" he screeched. "Fuck you Lennon, you're such a playboy!"

Brian Epstein turned around from his perch in the front. "You're not wrong," he said with a shrug.

"And you would know this how?" Ringo said cautiously into the silence.

Eppy just smiled and turned to face the busy road ahead of them.

●●●

"This is right posh, this is!" George exclaimed with amazement as the band and their manager stood in the lobby of their to-be temporary NYC home.

"Ah, don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough," Brian replied with a chuckle, "fame will spoil you lads quickly, don't you worry..."

"IT'S JOHN LENNON!"

"Shit!" Brian paled. "Into the elevator, boys! Now!"

Without a backwards glance, the four young men followed their manager, streaking across the expanse of polished marble flooring and collapsing into the elevator with signs of relief as the doors closed.

"Holy shit!" Ringo gasped, clutching his chest. "They're bloodthirsty, they are!"

"On a mission..." Paul muttered grimly.

"Of sex, yeah," John said dryly.

"Ha!" George let out a short nervous laugh and immediately frowned.

There was a ding and the doors opened, revealing a richly patterned carpeted hallway.

"Here we are," Brian said, stepping out and leading the band down the corridor. "Rooms...456 and 458..." he fumbled at a pair of keys.

"George and Ringo," he gestured into the first suite as the door clicked open and swung.

"And right next door, John and Paul..." the two eagerly stepped across the threshold.

"And I'm right across the hallway in room 457." Brian unlocked his room and winked at the four Beatles. "See you in a bit. Get settled, ok?"