Classic Rock Oneshots

Places We Shouldn't Be

You think you know the story, but I'm sorry.

You don't.

See it didn't start with Paul McCartney meeting John Lennon after a show at the town fete. In fact, it was the opposite way around completely.

***

As soon as John saw his opportunity, he took it. The bouncer outside was distracted by a very pretty boy and he simply slipped in behind him into the club. The club.

See, any average teenage boy would generally have the guts to drink underage or sneak into a silly little club. But you would have to be John Lennon to creep past the entrance of this one. Unbeknownst to the common eye, this club sat in Liverpool undetected, yet it offered comfort to hundreds across the city. It was a queer bar.

As soon as John was inside its walls, he knew - he could feel it seep into his skin - that he was welcome. He wasn't used to feeling welcome, that's for sure. Not at home. Not at school. And generally, not in the world.

The moment he entered with his hair greased to perfection and his collar turned up at just the right angle, eyes drew to him like magnets. Seductive eyes that weren't afraid to show their desire roamed over the teenager and a smirk grew over John's features. He could get used to this.

Little did he know, across the club in the seedy bathrooms, Paul McCartney was entering this comforting world and experience this welcome as well. Except he was a little more tentative about walking straight through the front door. Instead, he squeezed through the back bathroom window and offered a wink at the bloke who's stall he had intruded.

A grin going from ear to ear grew over those baby cheeks of his as he exited the slightly sickening bathrooms and made contact with a place he would deem heaven. He sat down at an empty table just to take in the scene and people watch for a moment.

It was the first time he had seen two men or two women dancing with each other as if there was nothing to be shameless about. Of course, there wasn't, but the rest of the world didn't know that. At least not in 1958.

Lip-locked couples of the same sex could be found in the booths or against a wall and Paul felt, for once in his damn life, that he wasn't alone. What he felt we he looked at a boy compared to when he glanced at a girl didn't seem so blasphemous anymore because there were people like him all around. They were just invisible.

Paul certainly wasn't invisible now, absolutely not to John Lennon anyroad. Smacking his lips and brushing himself off as if it would make him more desirable, John sauntered over to Paul's table and stood in front of him like a King to a rat. Paul's eyes meet with the teenager's crotch before he dragged them up to see his face and John smirk smugly at the notion.

"Ya know, people don't usually come to clubs like this to sit alone." He says smoothly, winking for the cherry on top of his charisma.

That was the sentence that brought the world's greatest songwriting duo together.

Paul bit his lip and smirked just as smugly. "I'm not alone now, am I?" He charms, showing Lennon that being smooth wasn't just for the likes of him.

"I suppose not." He says as he sits down beside his newfound interest, draping his arm over the back of Paul's chair like he owned it and the person sitting on it.

The younger boy's eyes seem to smile more than his rosebud lips do as he lets his gaze roam unashamedly over his companion. "What are you doing here then?" He asks and John simply sighs, shrugging and looking around.

"Eh, well, it was either this or Church so I decided to take my chances." He grins, his eyes staying solely on Paul's lips. Those lips turn up into a knowing smirk and he giggles at John's response.

"Are you going to kiss me then?" He asks cheekily, being anything but oblivious to John's not-so-subtle hunger. The almond-eye lad shook his head and clicked his tongue in disproval, leaning into Paul's face teasingly.

"Now, now. I don't even know your name, now do I, sweetheart?" He breathes with that seemingly perpetual smirk pressed into his thin lips. His hand crept upon Paul's thigh and his breath grazed mockingly over Paul's lips, leaving them tingling.

"I'm Paul."

"And I'm John."

Later, their last names paired together would make billions of dollars. Lennon-McCartney.

"Now a kiss?" Paul asks, trying not to let a begging tone bleed into his voice. John chuckles and draws away, leaving Paul to wallow in his yearning and uncomfortable dissatisfaction.

"I think we should at least dance together first." The older of two suggests with a perked eyebrow, offering his hand out to Paul. To be honest, he didn't know why he wouldn't simply kiss the lad, because, in truth, he wanted to pin him to a wall and have his way with him. Alas, he dragged it out and teased the slightly younger lad like holding a piece of meat out for a dog.

Swinging jazz filled the smokey air and John grabbed Paul's waist and hand and started jiving along with the beat. Paul did so willingly and they joined the mob of other dancing couples. As people stomped and stamped and jived and thrived, the club's floor shook and rumbled under everyone's feet. People with drinks from the bar had to try and maneuver through the dancing crowd to get to their table and the club was getting more and more crowded as the night went on.

"I wish they'd play rock and roll instead of jazz!" Paul shouted and giggled simultaneously as he danced along in John's arms.

"Oh, that would be horrible?" John cries.

"What?! Why?!"

"Because," John whispers, leaning directly into Paul's ear. "Rock and roll is pure sex and if that was playing then, I really would have to bend you over a table." He grins, his right hand threatening to slip lower than just Paul's waist. Biting his lip, the doe-eyed boy shrugs.

"I wouldn't mind that too much." He murmurs, his eyes holding onto John's into nothing but a seductive manner.

"We haven't even kissed now, darling!" John laughs over the blaring jazz.

"I can fix that!" And with that, Paul's lurches at his partner and thrusts his lips onto the other teenager's. His hands fly to clasp either side of John's face and John involuntarily makes a gurgle of surprise.

And that, my friend, was how The Beatles were born...