McLennon Oneshots

London

(A/N - HAPPY MCLENNON DAY.)

6th July, 1959

"What?" Paul laughed at the boy, in complete shock at what he was suggesting.

"Come on, love. Just me and you, eh?" John rubbed his shoulder, praying for Paul to say yes.

"John, I've got college again today. My da' will kill me if I'm not there again."

"But he won't know! Come on, Macca... It's our anniversary. I wanna do somethin' special for our two years." John looked up into the younger's doe eyes, the mint coloured leaves from the bushes behind the boy blowing in the slight wind as the two stood on Paul's doorstep.

"I..." He sighed, before looking down.

"You've always wanted to go to London. It's 7am, he's not even up. We'll be home for 7pm, just say you... I don't know... Went back to George's." John begged, taking hold of both of Paul's hands. "Please? This is our day and I want to treat you, let me treat you."

The younger looked up to meet John's vision, and he immediately knew he couldn't say no. Those eyes were so captivating, and the man was right, he'd always wanted to go to London.

"Fine." John cheered, before shutting himself up. "But, if we're not back by 7 you're explainin' why."

"Of course!"

"Let me go and change." He ran inside, the door remaining open behind him.

John decided to light a cigarette as he waited for the other boy to come back down the stairs. It was only 7am, and so the sun was still rising, the sky even still a pinky colour in some places. The boy couldn't help but smile at that, taking a drag.

A few seconds later, Paul came running back down the stairs, a horrified look on his face as he threw the door shut and grabbed John's arm in the same breath, dragging him out of the gate.

"Quick!" Paul called to the boy who he still had a firm grip on and who was trying to keep up with him.

"Jesus Paul!" John laughed, flicking the end of his cigarette into the road. When they reached the end of the road, Paul stopped to take a breath. "What the fuck happened?"

"I woke Mike up... Told him if he grasses he's dead."

John began to laugh at that, punching Paul lightly in the arm.

"Christ Macca." He laughed, before nodding forward for the boy to follow him.

-

It took all of Paul's willpower to not lean his head on John's shoulder on the train there. It was a two hour journey, and with John having woken the other up, he was still sort of tired. But the old couple they sat across from would definitely have had something to say, and neither of them wanted to cause a scene.

They were both extremely relieved when the train finally pulled up in Waterloo Station, and were one of the first people off the train as they had no luggage. Not even a bag, just John's camera around his neck.

"Christ John, coulda atleast got second class." Paul groaned rubbing his stiff neck and stretching. "My back hurts."

John chuckled.

"That the only thing you're bothered about? Not 'Oh John, I'm so excited, look! Waterloo Station!'" Paul sent a jokey glare in John's direction, the older boy sniggering. "C'mon then, where do you wanna go first?" He asked, taking a map from a stall that said 'information' on the front.

"How about... Big Ben?"

"Sure, anythin' for Macca..."

"Soppy bastard."