Paris '61 (McLennon smut)

four

In an empty, grassy field sat the three friends, all getting drunk on the same large bottle of whiskey. John made sure he brought a regular old guitar to play, and before settling there altogether, he suggested they go to Paul's and grab a second acoustic. Now they had two guitars and were just playing around. John lent his guitar to George, and he opted to sing instead.

That lasted about thirty minutes, but he noticed George constantly yawning as if the alcohol was setting him off into sleepiness.

Paul kept going on about how much he wished to get a big break already. He rambled on about it for a while until George grew extremely tired.

//

“What do you think 'bout me bein' almost 21, boys?" he brought up after a bit of random chatting up nonsense, “Think 'm getting older by the second."

“Yeah, 'course y'are, you decrepit oldie!" Paul teased, gaining a slight laugh from George. John playfully punched the slightly younger one in the arm.

“Not far behind me, ya prick," John sighed when his laughter died down. “I want to come tell you that when you hit me age."

George laid down on the grass while the two chatted on about a whole lot of nothing, the sunset overcoming their sights. He began to see stars beyond the clouds that were once full today. And since he was drunk, he had nothing better to do than to fall asleep right there.

Paul glanced over at the now-asleep boy, heart racing now that basically he was 'alone' with John. “I guess he's out." he stated, pointing at George. John scratched the back of his neck, looking up at the sky, doing everything to avoid Paul's eyes.

“What's there t'do now?" John curiously asked, lightly tapping at a steady rhythm on Paul's knee.

“Hm. I mean--we can't just leave 'im here, has to be something right around this spot." Paul shrugged, laying his back down on the soft grass. John followed suit, except he decided to lay on his stomach so he could get a look at a prettier view.

"Paul..." he trailed off, wishing he could say a million things to the latter, “You really are a...a great friend. I'm happy that--just so happy we met."

Paul rested on his elbows so he could get a better look at John, who was saying this to him. His heart beat was rapid, almost like he was expecting a confession of some sort.

“You know...I'm happy we met too, brother," he replied with a half smile. “What's gotten into you? You're just too kind lately. Did I say something?"

John shook his head and flipped on his back, pretending he didn't hear the term 'brother'. He scooted just a bit closer to Paul. “Nothing. Just feel happy. Is that a crime all of a sudden?"

“Suppose not," he exhaled air from his nose, “Jus' strange coming from the man who'll fight anybody for a bloody cig. Give me one, by the way."

John obliged, going so far as to even light it for him with it in his mouth. He handed to Paul before lighting his own. John took a long drag of it and laid his head back, admiring the stars before him that were crystal clear.

“Do you think there's a place we go when we die?" John asks, wanting to hear Paul's perspective on the afterlife. He wondered if it could be as good as his wildest dreams--that he and Paul could be together, could become one for the rest of time. He needed to hear Paul's ideal eternalness.

“Well," Paul joined him in the same position John was in. “I’d like to think there's more to life than just this. I'd want to see everyone I ever loved in one place. Wouldn't that be fuckin' great?"

John nodded, his head falling on Paul's shoulder. They've done stuff like this before so he wasn't scared of Paul rejecting that notion. That wasn't to say it didn't make his heart skip a beat, however.

The two boys laid there for a while, until the sounds of heavy footsteps broke their attention. They both sat up quick and looked towards the noise, seeing George's brother, Peter, approaching  them with a bright flashlight.

“Is this where George has been?" he spat as he came to their spot. “He's in trouble. He didn't do anything at the house like he was s'pose to 'n Mum sent me out t'look for him. I been following ya but it took me ages to catch up."

Paul pointed at the boy he had come in search of. “We've just been playing some tunes, so save it. He isn't jus' out here being a bad kid. He's 18, leave 'im be."

“Never said that. I don't need lip coming from you of all people. I mean--look at ya. Pathetic." he scoffed, deciding to try waking George up for himself. When he bent over to observe him, he saw the now-almost-empty bottle he knew he could practically smell all over his brother. “George is right pissed, I can already tell our parents won't be happy."

“God fuckin' damn, Peter," John spat out of literal nowhere, standing up and shoving him a bit. “Did you stalk us all the way out here--'bout an hour late mind, you--only to bitch at us? I'm sick of it already. I'll get him home, so mind your bloody mouth or I'll have your jaw split right here." he didn't like how he called Paul pathetic and basically degraded him. Who the fuck did he think he was? He's a square, John thought, I outta kick his teeth in.

Peter let his hard act down, but not before trying to pretend he was only joining in on some laughs. He wanted to play it off as if he intended to joke instead of being rude to either of them. John knew better.

“Hey now, come on! John--wait! I was only kidding with you. Y'know that. Right, Johnny? I wasn't really being that stupid, you just hav'ta believe me. I promise! I'll leave and-and I’ll just tell da' he's spent the night with Paul. I'm sorry! Please..." he rambled on and on, fumbling over his words every so often. John laughed at how he immediately backed down. He nodded, not before telling him to scram, of course. God, he was so close to getting his face knocked in, John thought to himself.