Paris '61 (McLennon smut)

fourteen

The pair of friends got ready together, and John suggested that they go and purchase camera. Something about the overview of Paris captivated him. He assumed the chances of ever coming back to France would be slim, wanting to get some photos of their time here while they could.

So that’s where they were headed now, walking side by side in the bustling city. John brushed his hand next to Paul’s with a half smirk, moving it to his pocket instead.

“Stop. Don’t wanna get in trouble,” Paul giggled like an innocent schoolgirl, and John rolled his eyes.

“You know you want me grubby hand in yours.” He joked for a moment, but as he thought about it more, it made him want to defend his actions with a scoff. “C’mon. I know I can’t openly do that. M’not completely helpless.”

“Never said you were helpless, Johnny. We just – we can’t be seen doin’ something like tha’.” Paul sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “Now. We best try this place. Looks like they might sell all sorts of gadgets.” He directed his pointer finger over to a corner store that likely sold what John wanted. He could tell by the look of the place that it sold devices and hoped what they wanted would be there.

John opened the door for Paul and he rolled his eyes. He was beginning to hate to be treated like a girl. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want him to do that, it was more of ‘I’m a man and I’m not going to let you keep making me feel this type of way’ thing. Besides, he hated how much he liked being treated that way, so he pretended he hated it altogether.

John approached the only employee in sight, a middle aged man working one of the two registers. His jet black hair was combed back and he wore a tan button-up shirt, and as John got closer, he could tell he was wearing brown slacks. He looked like a right businessman, confused as to why he was in work of a place like this.

“Hello, sir,” he used a fake posh accent, “I’m going to say apologies in advance since I can’t speak French at all. Do you speak English?” he wanted to keep his image here with Paul as a fresh, polite one, despite his hair slicked back, leather jacket, and dark blue skinny trousers portraying him to be quite the opposite.

“Uh, yes… Very little. I help all I can.” The man said. John smiled at him, but soon Paul took the roll over whenever he opened his mouth to speak again.

“We’re looking for a camera,” he made it easy for the guy to understand. “Handheld thing, takes photographs, you know.” Paul motioned his hands in about the same size a camera would be to document their trip.

The man stuck his index finger in the air as if he were trying to recall something. “Let me see.” He said, turning on his heels to go check through inventory of the store.

“I say we take loads of pictures today, and all over Paris. We need to have this time remembered forever. We’ll probably never come back, y’know?” John placed his hand on Paul’s lower back, just to see how long he would allow that to keep being there.

He didn’t move it away at all. Instead he leaned into John’s touch. And John ate that all the way up. Licking his lips, he pressed a kiss behind Paul’s ear, sure to leave a wet spot. “Do you want me kissing you when we’re sober? Or is- is everything only t’be done when we’re drinkin’?” he asked lowly, needing to hear some reassurance. He wasn’t sure if he was being too touchy or not.

“I don’t mind it,” Paul played it like it was no big deal. He turned to face him, his lips turning into a smile. “I mean—you’re the best kisser I’ve came across thus far. So I quite enjoy it. Just don’t want anybody to see.”

Paul said that just in time, considering the owner was coming around the corner.

*

After selecting a camera, the two didn’t waste much time at all discovering the city together. They quickly took a gander at some paintings at a local art gallery. Next they discovered a field of vibrant flowers. The reason it felt even remotely worth naming was because they took candid pictures of each other in front of a rows of daisies. Though the photos wouldn’t be in color, the memories made that day would turn into vivid milestones. The images would be something both kept in their private possession for years and years to follow. The little photo session happened on the way to accidentally bumping in to Jürgen, a friend that Stuart introduced them to in Hamburg. John remembered him as he said he lived in Paris, which fascinated him.

The friend took him to his place and offered to give them both a stylish haircut. It happened to be that Lennon was a master of persuasion into making Paul do what he did. He made it seem like it would be the next hip thing. It seemed artsy and new and would be original when they returned back to Liverpool. So they agreed wholeheartedly.

Once that was over with, they found a way back to their hotel to settle in for the night. Paul suggested a simple decision: order room service for dinner and just spend some time alone. How could John disagree?