Cry baby, cry...

UI: Chapter 18 (yay!)

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 15:41:23 GMT

This fic from hell is giving me a hard work! I'm sorry about the delay, but I promise this fic is going to be finished (some day). Thank you to all the people who have been following this fic (despite the slow updates *blushes*) I hope you like this chapter. A lot of things are explained.

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 18)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: Things begin to become clear.
Warning: This fic contains strong situations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13747.html#cutid1
Chapter 14: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13908.html#cutid1
Chapter 15: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14256.html#cutid1
Chapter 16: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14256.html#cutid1
Chapter 17: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14621.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 18)

“I’m leaving” Jane said to the man next to her, rubbing her hands and looking down at her skirt.

“Oh” George was impressed. She’d just arrived and was already leaving? “But, what about Paul’s health? You’ve barely spent time with him, Jane”

“I…” she sighed “Look, I’m afraid this is not going to work. You know… I was going to break up with him when… this happened”

“But he’s ill! You can’t”

“He’s ill, but that’s not going to change anything. He cheated on me. And I don’t really want to know if you were aware of that”

“But, I bet he won’t do that again, Jane. He loves you and if you leave him now…”

George knew that John was telling Paul about how he felt. He still loved him, but he’d learned to forgive. And… what the hell was he saying? Forgive what? It hadn’t been Paul’s or John’s fault. It hadn’t been his fault. Love was the guilty, but, they needed it. It was the price.

Although he was aware of what was going on inside John’s heart, he was trying desperately to convince Jane not to leave Paul, not because he wanted John for him. Not anymore. But because he was afraid of what could happen to Paul if he confronted something like that.

“He’s got, John, hasn’t he?” Jane broke his stream of thoughts.

“What?” George blinked a few times “Of course, he’s got John. He’s got me and Ringo, too, but… it’s not the same. You’re his woman, his… everything!”

“I don’t think so” she smiled sadly and sighed again, looking at George in the eye, preparing herself for what she was going to say “Honestly, I was planning to forgive Paul and let this happen, but when I got here and I saw him I realized… He doesn’t really need me…”

“Jane, that’s…”

“… as he needs John” she interrupted and then kept silent.

George opened his eyes widely and opened his mouth not really knowing what to say.

“He was… he was… high, Jane”

“High or not, he didn’t ask me to stay with him. He asked John. He wanted John there and I turned to be just a common visit”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything, besides… This is over. Paul doesn’t need me anymore and I’ll learn not to need him. It’s simple.”

“But…”

“George” she smiled and took his hand in her own, squeezing it “It’s over”

“No, Jane! It can’t be over! Can’t you wait until Paul’s health get better? I mean…”

“What if it doesn’t get better, George? He can get worse, and that would be a terrible moment to break up with him. I’m just going to do it before it’s too late”

Hell. George didn’t want to think about that. The optimist part of his brain kept telling him that Paul was going to get better, and that everything was going the be normal again after this incident, but… Jane was right. What if that didn’t happen?

“Fuck” George muttered and then looked at Jane “Sorry”

“It’s okay, George. Look, I’ve spent great moments with you and this doesn’t mean we’re not going to see each other again. I just want to move away from this, from Paul and what he did to me for a while”

“Yes…” George wondered what was going in in Paul’s room right now. How would Paul react? Would he know already? “Uhm… I don’t know what else to say, Jane. It’s…”
“Don’t say anything. It’s my decision. You don’t have anything to do with this” she looked down at her watch. “Oh, God. My plane leaves in two hours. I’ve got to get going to the airport”

“But…”

“I’ll tell Paul and then I’ll leave” she said with glistening eyes. Something very dark was hidden inside them.

Jane had said that Paul didn’t need her as he needed John. That meant that… Fuck. Was she suspicious about John’s feelings or- in the best of cases- Paul’s feelings?

“So…” she stood up and looked at the room, sighing as if she was gathering strength for what she was about to do.

“You’re going… now?” George panicked.

“I’ve got to. I’m late”

“No! You can’t go now. It’s…”

“He’s with John, isn’t he?”

George kept silent, his eyes wide open. She acted so calm, like everything was normal and the fact she was going to break up with her 4 years boyfriend was something extremely natural.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’” she smiled sadly and passed her fingers through her soft, long red hair.

“Jane…”

“Yes?” Jane said. George grimaced and squezeed something invisible with his hands. He didn’t know what to say. A mixture of emotions ran throught his whole body. He was scared, sad, nervous, anxious… He was a mess, a real mess. This was affecting him more than he thought it would. “Look” the woman approached George and took his hand in her own “I need you to promise that you all will take care of Paul. Please, let me now if something happens and… look after John. Paul’s tough image is not always real, you know. He can be really weak sometimes. Tell John I’m leaving this in his hands, ok?”

“Ok” George was paralized, still holding Jane’s hand. He felt a shiver crossing his body and he trembled a little.

The woman turned his back on him and began walking slowly towards the entrance of the ICU, then she dissappear and with her, every hope of trying to convince her not to leave Paul. Not right now.

“Geo?” a deep voice called him from behind.

“Uh?” he turned to see Ringo’s gentle face and he immediately smiled. Something on his face made him want to be closer to his older friend. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly he found himlsef surrounded by Ringo’s arms and his face hidden in his shoulder.

“George?” Ringo asked stroking the hair of his nape “What…?”

“Jane’s going to break up with Paul, Ringo” he answered, his voice muffled by the fabric of Ringo’s jacket.

“What? Now?”

“Yes”

Ringo’s caress turned stronger and he finally held George’s head against his body. George could feel how his mate’s chest inflated as he sighed and then his breathing become normal again.

“I think… I think it’s the right thing to do” Ringo finally said.

“How’s that?” George pulled away from Ringo and looked at him directly in the eye.

“It was going to happen anyway” Ringo’s eyebrows dissappeared under his bangs as he shrugged his shoulders.

“No, it wasn’t. She said that she was going to forgive him that he cheated until she noticed that…” George kept silent for a moment.

“Noticed what?”

“ She said something like ‘Paul doesn’t need me the way he needs John’”

Surprisingly, Ringo didn’t react at these words.

“See? It was going to happen anyway, George”

He was even more confused. Everything was happening so fast, too fast. In a matter of what seemed seconds, Paul was ill and Jane was breaking up with him. John was in love with Paul and he’d fallen in love with John. Ringo was the only one who seemed to be the same, the old mate they’d always have.

“I don’t get it, Rings”

“She knows it “ and with ‘it’ George knew immediately what he was talking about “We know it. And probably Paul knows it by now. She’s not leaving Paul because he cheated on her, she’s leaving him because she knows- or she thinks- Paul doesn’t love her…”

“…the way he loves John” George finished the sentence, noticing that everything fit perfectly now “You’re right” he frowned “You’re right” Suddenly the verbs ‘need’ and ‘love’ became exactly the same “So… Paul loves John?” he asked staring at the floor.

“I… You know that nobody knows that. I don’t, at least, but that’s what Jane thinks… I guess” Ringo answered, suddenly vacillating.

“I hope Paul loves John. I hope it’s true” George said, smiling slightly.

“Are you sure?” Ringo asked approaching George’s figure in the hallway. The younger man turned to see his shorter figure and winked at him.

“Yes. I told you” George leaned his arms around Ringo’s shoulders “I think I’m over him”

TO BE CONTINUED...

UI: Chapter 17

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 14:07:11 GMT

Please, don't hate me! I know I was mean in the last chapter XD
Hope you enjoy. Please leave comments!

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 17)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: What Paul thinks about it...
Warning: This fic contains strong situations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13747.html#cutid1
Chapter 14: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13908.html#cutid1
Chapter 15: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14256.html#cutid1
Chapter 16: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14256.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 17)

Please, say something. Fucking say something!

The seconds passed and John began to shake unconsciously, looking directly at Paul’s eyes. Unfortunately, they couldn’t tell him anything. He only could see confusion and maybe fear, but not a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. The older man observed Paul and noticed he had lost some weight, his cheeks weren’t as chubby as always (or maybe it was just his tired expression), his eyes were also tired and their eyelids seemed to be about to fall over the eyeballs.

“John…” Paul didn’t stop looking at John. He was obviously scared, but he seemed to gather everything he had inside to keep looking at John’s almond-shaped eyes. And why? Why to look at him, even though it was a terribly hard task and could divert his gaze? “I didn’t want this to happen” he said. That was all? Fucking hell “I’m sorry” John wanted to scream and die right there. How could he say that? He had opened his heart and all Paul could say was ‘I’m sorry’?

“You didn’t want it to happen, but it happened, Paul. I… fuck! Don’t make me say it again!”
“What? That you love me?”

“What else, Macca! That’s what we’re fucking talking about!” he was trying not to let the wrath control him again.

Paul sighed and rubbed his hands, then he spoke in a whisper.

“I wasn’t talking about that, John”

“This is enough, Paul” John turned his back on his friend and closed his eyes.

“Enough of what?” despite his weakness, Paul’s voice sounded stern and sincere.

“Enough of making a fool of myself! I fucking told you how I feel about you. Now, I can’t go and I won’t feel like shit anymore, but don’t fucking play with me!”

“Fuck, John…” Paul moved his hands and with a big effort, tried to sit on the bed. John, immediately, went to the aid, but the man stopped him “I can do it”

“Ok” was all John could say. Paul had something in his eyes, a mysterious look, as if he was going to say something of matter, so he waited for him to speak again.

“You don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What?” John was confused.

“You don’t get what’s happening. You can’t fucking get it because…” he coughed “because I’m a fucking coward, John, and I haven’t had the guts to say it!” suddenly Paul’s eyes shone more than ever. A fugitive tear escaped from one of them, and he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand, ashamed.

“I… What the hell are you saying, Paul?”

“I tried so hard and it didn’t work. This is all fucked up. The Beatles are fucked up, John. This shit is over!” Paul covered his face with his hands and sobbed silently.

“You can’t say that. We’re not over. Maybe we don’t want to tour anymore, but…”

“That’s not the fucking problem!”

“What is it then?” John approached the bed and sat next to Paul, leaving the northern man inside him miles away from them.”Paul… Macca, it’s ok”

“It’s not ok, John. I dunno if we can keep this working… This band is my life, but” What was going on? Was he having a breakdown or something? John was about to call the nurse when Paul finally spoke, between male sobs “I fell in love with you too”

God.

“And we’re over, John. We’re over! People won’t want two queer Beatles singing love songs for them!”

“What the hell…? Paul?”

It was like the world was new again, it was wonderful, he felt complete, and for a moment he forgot that they were in a hospital and Paul was ill, and that he could die. All he could see in his mind was both of them together, and nothing else.

“I’m sorry!” Paul tried to stop his sobs and wiped his face and nose once more, looking like a little child. And John… John couldn’t believe it.

“For what, Paul? You’ve made me… I’m so fucking happy! I thought… I… Jesus, Macca!“

Paul opened his reddened eyes and stared at John’s smiling face.

“This is not good. We’ve got to keep away from each other, I don’t know how… otherwise… people will hate The Beatles”

John couldn’t believe that either.

“I thought we could write the songs separately or with George and…”

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” John asked and took Paul’s face with his hands, feeling the soft touch of his skin, his wet cheeks.

“John, I don’t want this to go further. Please, stop it…” but John didn’t let him go, he just kept staring at him, observing every detail of his face. He’d never been that close to his mouth. That thought made him tremble. He looked down at his lips, so full, fleshy and soft, they were pale, but still appealing. He only wanted to…

John stroked Paul’s lips with his right thumb and then his hand traveled from his chin to his forehead, caressing everything that was on the way. His thin nose, his huge doe eyes… He couldn’t help it, and, knowing Paul, now he was sure he wouldn’t reject him. John leaned closer to his face and breathed in his scent, he could feel Paul shaking, but getting closer to his own form, wanting the kiss.

Their lips touched for the first time, unsure and nervous, but with deep longing. At least, John felt that, he didn’t know what Paul was thinking until he moved his lips against John’s. He wanted him, too, and that wasn’t everything, but he loved him, too. John needed him so bad. Paul had been an addiction for years, but his daily dose had been only looking at him undress in a hotel room, singing in the same microphone or touching casually, but now they were kissing and… where could he get after this?

His hand touched Paul’s chest and stroked it. It dared to go down to his stomach and then he touched his groin over the blankets, unable to control. That was when Paul pulled away quickly, looking flushed and agitated. He had his eyes still closed, as if he didn’t have the bravery to look at John after the kiss they’d shared.

“No” he said and he finally looked at John, obviously embarrassed. “Listen, this has to stop here, John!”

“Bloody hell, Paul! Fuck everything. Fuck the fans, fuck The Beatles! You just have to…”

“I can’t!” the man’s voice broke John’s inspiration.

“We kissed. That means something. What the hell are we going to do about it?”

“Nothing. We’re not gonna do anything”

“I don’t believe you”

“And what makes you say that?”

“You’re a randy jerk. You’ll finally fall and… you won’t be able to control yourself, just like I couldn’t”

“There are a lot of fishes in the sea, you know?” it was Paul’s acid comment. And that made John think about everything with more thoroughness. Lots of fishes?

“You’re not gonna find queers wherever you want, Macca”

“I’m talking about birds, John”

They kept silent.

“So, you feel the same way I do. I mean… you’re not…”

“No, I’m not a fucking queer, John. And that drives me crazy! I don’t know why I… I love you. It’s just you. You’re the only guy I have this kind of feelings for”

That was what he had wanted to hear. It’s just you. You’re the only one I love.

Well.

Shit.

Honestly, it hadn’t been so romantic, those weren’t the exact words and the context was completely different, but the meaning was the same, wasn’t it? Paul loved him and that was enough.

“I fucking love you, Paul! I really do. I know I’m selfish and maybe I don’t deserve you, but. I love you and…” he was blushing, he could feel it, but he had to say the truth “I need to be with you, because…”

Don’t get him upset

Those words were repeated over and over again inside his head, but… What if Paul got worse? He wouldn’t be able to say it. It would be even more dangerous.

“Because I don’t know how much time is left to us”

“God…”

He regretted immediately when he saw Paul’s face contort and a terrified expression covering his features.

“I’m sorry, Macca. I just…”

“I’m gonna die”

“No! NO! I just said…” It was a lie. Maybe he would, but John wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself “I just said it because…” complete loss of bravery and ideas. His brain wasn’t working.

“Come here”

John wanted Paul to want him. He needed it and with those words he got closer to him and surrounded his body with his arms. Paul was shivering.

“Hey, calm down. I told you I love you and… maybe you should forget all the fucking excuses and let me be with you. You can’t deny you love me now and… I’m not gonna quit. Just let me take care of you, alright?”

Paul looked up at John’s eyes and nodded, not utterly convinced, but al least, feeling more secure. Was that the solution? Paul couldn’t think of any better. Perhaps he should give up and let John to take care of everything. He wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. His father would leave soon, Jane was always in another country, doing her own things and following her own dreams. And John was there.

He didn’t want to think anymore, so he buried his face in John’s shoulder and stroked his arm unconsciously.

“Let me do it, Paul”

He was tired and muttered a soft, sleepy “Ok”.

John just smiled and gently squeezed him tighter

TO BE CONTINUED...

UI: Chapter 16

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 19:31:00 GMT

Sorry for the delay, guys! Hope you enjoy this. Please, comment! :)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 16)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: And finally, he confesses...
Warning: This fic contains strong situations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13747.html#cutid1
Chapter 14: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13908.html#cutid1
Chapter 15: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/14256.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 16)

John dressed in jeans, a shirt and a dark sweater. It was freezing outside and he didn’t want to get a cold, it was enough with one of them being sick. They were leaving as soon as Ringo was ready dressing in the room, next to the sofa he was sitting on.

“Have you seen my black socks?” the drummer asked from the bedroom.

“No, Rings” George answered.

He and John were waiting in the living room of the suite, each one of them sitting in completely opposite places. They weren’t talking, avoiding looking at each other. It was way too uncomfortable being there, just the two of them, knowing what had happened and, to be honest, was still happening. They’d talked about it, of course, but that didn’t change the facts.

“The ones with in holes?” John asked Ringo.

“I don’t have socks with holes, John. Piss off”

George cleared his throat and rubbed his hands, then sighed.

“So… “ He spoke and John startled. He’d been lost in his thoughts and his friend’s voice suddenly brought him back to reality “Are you… going to tell him?”

“Wha?”

“I asked if you’re going to tell Paul…”

John didn’t need to hear more.

“I plan to… But” he moved in his seat “I don’t want to be rejected” he sighed and regretted about what he said.

“Oh” George seemed terribly uncomfortable. He was now looking at the carpet, playing with his hands “It’s not that bad… I think”

“God, I’m sorry, George”

George looked at him in the eye for the first time that day and smiled beautifully.

“It’s ok, John” John raised one oh his eyebrows “Really. We talked about it, mate. It’s ok” he repeated.

John smiled too and, despite the need he suddenly felt to hold his mate and thank him for everything, he sat there and didn’t move, just smiled. A sincere and loving smile.

“Thank you”

“I think you should tell, him, John” George stood up “Gotta pee” he said and left towards the bathroom, walking slowly but secure of himself.

“Yeah… I think so” John whispered and passed his hand through his red auburn head, sighing.

Ringo came out from the bedroom, fully dressed and with his hair somewhat disarranged.

“Ready” he looked somewhat flushed.

“George had to pee” John said and sunk himself in the soft cushion of the sofa. Ringo looked at him for a few seconds, then walked towards the window, his back facing John. John immediately remembered Paul, days ago, standing on the same spot of the carpet, looking outside, upset after his conversation with Jane. He shook his head, scaring away those memories of a sad, lost Paul.

“You’re gonna tell him, aren’t you, John?” Ringo asked and turned back, smiling.

“Shit” he sighed. It was the second time that someone talked about the subject.

“Wha?”

John grimaced, and then cleared his throat loudly.

“Nothing. It’s just… Well. I’m planning to do it, but…” John didn’t really know what to say. How could he if he actually didn’t even know what he was going to do? “I don’t know” he confessed, honestly.

“I think you should do it” Ringo sat next to him and put his hand on John’s shoulder.

“George said the same”

The drummer smiled widely, feeling happy for his friend. Finally, George seemed to be showing his bravery about the whole situation. He was proud of him.

“Well?” Ringo squeezed John’s shoulder “Then do it”

“What if…?” he hid his face under his hands and leaned the weight of his torso over his legs.

“What if what, John?” Ringo didn’t move “If he rejects you?”

It was that, wasn’t it? If Paul said ‘no’, he was going to die inside. He knew it. Life wouldn’t be worth it.

“Yeah”

“Listen to me”

John looked at Ringo’s blue eyes and waited for his words, impatiently. He always knew what to say.

“You should ask yourself…” all of a sudden, the older man seemed to lose his boldness in a second, but he kept talking “what if he… dies?” and he pronounced the forbidden word.

“Fuck, Ringo! Don’t fucking say that!” John stood up and walked a few steps until he stood by the threshold of the door of the opposite bedroom of the suite. He closed his eyes so tight that his eyelids hurt and he began to see little spots of light swirling in front of him.

“But what if it happens, John!” Ringo was still sitting on the sofa. John thanked that. If he was closer he could have punched him for the damn words he had muttered. “He should know. You MUST tell him”

John turned his head to see Ringo’s expectant face, and closed his eyes again.

“I know”

************

For the first time, he felt panic while entering the hospital. He crossed the doors, looking up to all the windowpanes of the rooms, trying to guess which one belonged to Paul’s, but he didn’t succeed. He suddenly remembered that Paul was in the ICU.

“Fuck” he whispered to himself.

He needed to gather all his guts and breathed deeply walking determined and trying to look as calm as possible.

God, he hadn’t been that nervous with a girl. John always knew what to say or do, and the birds would fall for him immediately. He could get into their knickers anytime he wanted to. Cynthia had been one of them and… well, Julian was unexpected, but that was another story. Right now, he didn’t feel like the great John Lennon who always got everything he asked for, but he felt like… John. Just John. A John that felt he was going to pass out or throw up at any minute.

“What the…” a voice mumbled.

Shit.

“Fuck” he had stumbled and hit George’s back “Sorry, mate”

George just smiled and raised one eyebrow.

“Aye, relax”

John nodded and breathed once more, telling himself to watch his steps more carefully.
The hallway that led to Paul’s room seemed eternal to John.

Let’s do this fucking thing once and for all

He walked as fast as he could, but when he reached the door, he regretted he had done it. It was time. He’d face Paul and had to tell him. He had to, or he’d live everyday thinking about Paul’s imminent death- Fuck! That word again!- and his head would repeat over and over again: ‘I must tell him’ like a daily torture, or, even worse, it’d say: ‘I should have told him’.

And there he was, alone, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes, silent and calm.

“Paul?” Ringo asked walking towards the tired form on the bed. “Are you ok?”

John approached the bed to stand beside Ringo and he noticed something that made his heart jump.

“What’s that blood?” John asked pointing at the right side of Paul’s white gown.

“Uh?” Paul seemed to be awakening from a long, deep dream, he looked down at his chest and after noticing the red stain he spoke, very slowly “Oh” he sighed “My gums. They were bleeding, but… the nurse said it was normal, so… there’s nothing to worry about”

“Hey, Paul” George greeted him. The bassist just smiled at him and then sighed again “Well” he touched the spot on Paul’s chest “they should bring another of these things. This one’s stained”

“Well, she cleaned my mouth but this thing…” he was sad. John could tell. Really sad.
It was obvious. He was terribly ill, everything was a mess in his mind. He couldn’t do anything lying there, like a useless rag. All he could do was waiting. Paul was impatient. The three of them knew that. He liked everything fast and perfect, but this time, everything was a long wait and the situation was far from perfect.

“I should call the nurse. It’s not nice to see your blood there, you know? It kind of freaks me out, mate” Ringo said. George just smiled and took Paul’s hand in his own. To John, that seemed like an apology. The younger man squeezed it, stroked it and then left it over the blankets, gently.

“I’ll go with Ringo, Paul. We’ll be back in a sec” he looked at John and that was all he needed to know. It was the moment. He had to say it. Had to tell him!
Both men left the room in silence and John and Paul were left alone. From there, they could hear faraway noises, indistinguishable words and some laughs. Then the silence was almost unbearable.

“I’m sorry” John said suddenly, looking down at his hands.

“What?”

“About the other day. I… I didn’t want to get you upset” he could feel his cheeks burning and he didn’t raise his head, trying to hide every hint of his embarrassment.

“Oh” Paul stirred “It’s ok. I shouldn’t have called you that” John felt his huge eyes on him “Don’t worry, John. I think I misunderstood.”

Shit. He hadn’t misunderstood. Well, He hadn’t the first time, but now he was. And… Fuck! It was so confusing. If loving him was being ‘fucking disgusting’, then he was that! But… God. Paul thought that his approach had been something he had imagined, when the truth was that John had really intended to… to confess it. What was he going to do now?

“You misunderstood? You…?”

“Yeah, I’m… sorry. I’m just being paranoid” Paul smiled and this time, John had to look at him “Look, after what… I saw that night. You know… You and George… I… I thought you wanted something… with me” he was clearly nervous. John noticed he was playing with the sheets.
He hadn’t expected that, but the decision was taken. He was going to do it

“What if…” Shit. How the hell was he going to react this time? “What if you didn’t misunderstood?”

Paul opened his eyes like two big plates and looked up at him.

“What?” he asked.

“I mean…Shit! I’ve got to tell you something… Macca” he thought that it was a good moment to turn to that nickname. Paul’s expression kept still, it didn’t change, but John knew that millions of thoughts were crossing his mind now. He waited a few moments to go on, in case of Paul wanted to say something and to assure he was ok to hear the rest. He kept looking at him in the eye. “You understood well. But, it’s not the way you think. I’m not queer, Paul”

“John, don’t…”

That was it.

“No, let me finish, please, and then you can call me anything, but, let me say it.” He breathed and went on “I’m not queer. I don’t fancy men. But, I feel something special for you” he knew he was blushing violently, but gathered all his bravery “I fell in love with you. But, it’s just you! Fuck! Please, believe me. That night, with George… I fucking thought it was you! You were sharing the bedroom with me, and I though it was you, Paul”

“John…?” Paul’s mouth was open “No…”

“I’m sorry. It’s what I feel, Paul. I can’t fucking change it. It doesn’t matter whether I want it or not. I can’t, Macca” he suddenly heard his voice turning sad and embarrassed. The bravery had left him alone… again.

And now was time to wait to get a response. This was the moment when he’d decide if living
was still worth it or not.

But Paul didn’t answer immediately. In fact, he kept silent for a long time, which seemed an eternity to John.

UI: Chapter 15

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 22:07:50 GMT

And here we go! Thank you for the support. Your comments motivate me to keep writing :)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 15)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-17 (Naughty boy!)
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: Big surprises...
Warning: This fic contains strong situations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13747.html#cutid1
Chapter 14: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13908.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 15)

John fell asleep in Paul’s hospital bed, surrounding the younger man with his left arm and leaning his head on the back of the bed in a very uncomfortable position. Something like a whistle in the nurse station woke him up, and he immediately heard the incessant sound of the machines that controlled Paul vital signs. He’d been drooling a little, so he wiped his thin lips and then his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. That was when he smelled himself and decided he had to get a shower. But what the hell? He needed to stay with Paul, even if he was a stinky form prowling around the hospital.

And… on the other side, what he was about to do was important, of course, so he decided he had to be clean, and smell good, and look good and everything to face Paul.

He looked down to the sleepy shape leaning his head on his chest and felt the urgent need to kiss him. He had dark bags under his eyes and his skin looked paler than usual, but still looked beautiful. How the hell had he fallen in love with him? It was the only man he loved in a sexual way, and, no matter how much it pissed him off, he didn’t know why.

Soulmates? Probably.

Paul stirred and sighed sound asleep, then he scratched his belly and rubbed at his nose. John held his laugh and, unable to control himself, he kissed Paul on the cheek, before leaving the room and looking for Brian, thinking about the shower he wanted -and needed- so much.

************

“So?”

“So what?”

Ringo was leaning against a white column at the entrance of the huge hospital, George stood beside him, both holding a cigarette between their fingers and breathing the cold hair of the morning. The sky was white, full of clouds which attempted to fall over their heads.

“So… ? Mate, ya know what I’m talking about”

“John, isn’t it?” the younger man avoided his friend’s eyes.

“Who else?”

George sighed deeply and frowned, took a puff from his cigarette. The cloud of smoke swirled in front of his face.

“Well” Ringo added, held George’s arm and began to stroke it to encourage him to talk “I don’t really want to know how he is right now. I can see it. I want to know how you are feeling with all this”

“You know how I’m feeling, Rings” George felt a shiver crossing his spine.

“No, I don’t. Tell me”

“You know…”

“God, I’m tired of playing this role, Geo! I feel like your fucking mother!” despite Ringo’s outburst, he didn’t let go George’s trembling arm.

“Sorry, mate…” George sighed again and dropped his cigarette to the floor, where he put it out with the weight of his foot “but I don’t know if I want to talk about this”

“Why not?” Ringo’s voice turned soft and understanding again. He knew he wouldn’t get anything if he kept yelling.

“Because is fucking difficult. You know we… we kinda… fucked! We shared something! It meant something! I loved him!”

Silence took over them and they could hear the frenetic movement coming from the entrance of the emergency room. How the hell…?

“You loved him?” Ringo asked, getting closer to George’s skinny figure.

“I…” the guitarist didn’t even notice he had said that. Loved? With a ‘d’? “I think so” he cleared his throat “or maybe I’m upset with this shit. I mean… Paul’s really bad…”

“Or maybe you’re beginning to get over him”

“No, I think I still love him, Ringo” but he wasn’t completely sure about his statement.

“You think” Ringo laughed tenderly, and stroked his arm once again, but this time, he did it before surrounding George with his arms “Aye, it’s a good progress”

George felt the warm hug and let himself go, smelling Ringo’s scent.

“Ringo?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not me mother” he didn’t pull away, so his voice came muffled by the drummer’s shoulder “You’re me mate”

Although he wasn’t looking at his face, George knew his friend was smiling.

“Yes. I’m yer mate”

************

“I need to get a shower”

“What?”

John had caught him by surprise, while he was organizing some papers and trying to think how they were going to handle the press, sitting in a little room given to them near the cafeteria.

“I said I need to get a shower, Eppy. I stink” John added and then he lifted up his arm, showing his armpit to Brian “Wanna smell?”

“Oh, no, John. I don’t want to smell your armpit, thank you “Brian answered with his phlegmatic tone and then laughed at John’s joke “It seems you’re in a good mood today”

“Well… It seems so” John smiled sadly and then he pulled one of his well known goofy smiles.

“How’s Paul?” the man put the papers aside and looked up at John, waiting for his response.

“Sound asleep”

And fucking beautiful

“Is he all right?”

John’s expression darkened and Brian remembered how upset and irritable he was. He needed to watch carefully what he said and how he said it.

“Besides having leukemia, well, yeah, he’s ok” his ironic tone hurt Brian, but he just sighed and tried to calm him down.

“John. I know how you’re feeling. I love Paul, too. He’s like a son to me!”

“No! You don’t know how I’m feeling, Brian!”

“Calm down, John. Please. And lower down your tone. Remember we must not give the press reasons to make scandals”

“Fuck the press!” John turned his back on Brian and grabbed his hair, as if he was about to pull it out “You don’t know, Brian”

The older man stood up and walked around John until he faced him.

“What makes you think I’m not suffering as much as you are?”

John was beginning to get angry, upset, nervous… He didn’t want to yell, but… it was almost impossible. And… Brian wasn’t guilty at all. He didn’t need to get yelled at this moment.

“Is one of your boys sick, maybe about to…” that fucking word hurt like hell “die?”

“I beg your pardon?” With ‘boys’ he knew John was referring to those men who kept him company and… well… He didn’t understand anything at all. What did his boys have to do with all this?

“No, you wouldn’t understand. You don’t love them. You just fuck them. Or… they fuck you. I don’t know” John added, still avoiding Brian’s stare.

“John! For God’s sake!” he wasn’t going to tolerate that insult. He felt like nothing at that moment. John was talking to him as if he was disgusting because of his sexual orientation, but… then it hit him “But, John… What…?”

“You get it now?” John looked at him like a little child, beaten and destroyed.

“You love Paul?”

“Of course I do” it didn’t matter what everybody thought anymore. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was in love with his best friend, with his soulmate, even if he was a man. It was love, after all, and what’s more beautiful than that? “I’m fucking crazy about him”

“So… you’re…” how to ask him? “You are one of…”

“No, Eppy. It’s only with him. It’s the only man I love this way. I just don’t fucking get why!”

“God” he wasn’t expecting that. He thought John was completely heterosexual, and after the trip to Spain it was more than clear. He couldn’t get John to do it, despite all his efforts. He would never want him as he wanted him “And… how?”

“I don’t fucking know, Eppy, but… this has been terrible. Things have happened between us… The Beatles… and it’s a mess! Paul doesn’t understand anything about my feelings for him”

Had John slept with George or Ringo? God, it was a mess, indeed.

“Uhm… So, he doesn’t feel the same for you”

“No, I don’t think so. But… you know me, Brian” John sighed and smiled with the sorrow covering his features “So… I need that shower. I can’t even stand my own smell!”

Brian smiled, making his biggest effort to assimilate everything John had told him and seated down again, eyes lost somewhere near the coffee table.

“I… I think we all could go to the hotel and get a shower. Ok, John. Just wait a minute until I finish this and we will go. Meanwhile, go and tell George and Ringo we’re leaving in...” he checked his watch “half an hour or so”

************

He heard some voices and stirred, sighed and slowly opened his eyes. He felt pain in his mouth, in his gums to be exact, so he licked them with his tongue. They were swollen, he could feel it, and then, something warm startled him and made him panic. It was a metallic flavor and it began to gush slowly, filling his mouth.

Oh, God. What’s going on?

He was alone and remembered John’s face immediately, his arms surrounding him, but he wasn’t there anymore. What had they given to him? He couldn’t recall anything right, but he knew Jane had been there, and also his dad. He wished he hadn’t done something embarrassing. Would they coming back to see him again? And where was John?

************

The water was hot and it relaxed him, it made him forget some things he didn’t want to remember anymore. Now, his entire body was wet, still weak, but swaddled with a warm feeling.
John smiled and leaned his forehead against the tiles of the bathroom, while little drops of water fell from his hair to the tiles on the floor. What was he going to say? Or do? And what if Paul called him ‘disgusting’ again?

“Well, you’ll have to deal with that, John” he said to himself.

He rinsed the soap that covered his body and looked down at it, reviewing it, glancing over every detail. Paul had seen him naked a lot of times before, but, could his body be attractive to him in a sexual way? Could Paul love his chubby waist and his hairless chest? God, he didn’t know, but he loved Paul so much and he wanted him badly. Everything about him was so arousing. Everything.

His stare, his huge doe eyes, fleshy full lips, straight nose… His rather hairy chest, his long legs, his arms, his flat abdomen… His…

“God” he moaned.

The image of a naked Paul drove him crazy. His hand traveled from his stomach to his groin, where his cock was already hard and prepared to what came next. Although the water that kept falling over his naked body could have hidden it, he felt the slick precum coming from the tip. John shivered and brought back a memory of Paul undressing in a room they shared, after a long concert. The bassist was tired and sweaty.

He shivered again and began jerking off, softly first, then hard and fast, moaning, groaning and crying Paul’s name, wanting him more than ever.

“Oh, oohh… Paul…”

He wanted to fuck him and to be fucked. He wanted everything from him.

He came hard against the wall, hitting it with his cum, which was immediately cleaned by the water. John hit the tiles with his fist and moaned loudly.

“Oh, fuck! Yes… Paaaul!”

His breathing was fast and ragged and he didn’t open his eyes until he recovered from the huge orgasm he’d had.

Outside the bathroom, in the bedroom of the luxurious hotel, a skinny guitarist heard the moan. And the name.

Maybe it was time.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Please, leave comments! ;)

UI: Chapter 14

Sat, 08 Mar 2008 21:23:26 GMT

I'M SORRY! PLEASE, FORGIVE ME! I'm doing my best to update, but I've got so much work. Hope you like it, luvs! And please, leave comments. It'd mean a lot to me ;)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 14)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: Has John got to fight with everyone to get Paul’s love?
Warning: This fic contains strong situations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1
Chapter 13: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13747.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 14)

“Paul, son!” Jim McCartney walked rapidly towards the bed in the center of the room looking completely destroyed.

John had wanted to escape and leave the scene behind him, he’d run away, but now he was there again, standing the disgusted look in Jane’s eyes. He wouldn’t take any of that anymore just like that, but Paul…

“Da?” Paul turned to see his father’s worried expression. Immediately, a drugged silly smile appeared on his face. He looked adorable, with that well-known chubby cheeks, big eyes and toothy grin lighting his features. John blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, trying to keep himself calm “Da! You’re here!”

“My boy, how are you feeling? Does it hurt? How bad…?”

“He’s under the effect of…” Jane spoke, rather coldly, looking up to Jim “painkillers”.

“Oh” the man’s face contorted as if he was about to cry and looked down at his hands, rubbing them incessantly. He approached Paul even more and sighed, meditated a few seconds and then leaned to kiss his son’s forehead.

“You kissed me!” Paul grinned and blinked slowly “You never do that” he then turned to see Ringo “He kissed me, Ringo”

The drummer smiled tenderly.

George looked at John, who was staring at the whole situation from the threshold, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. The youngest man knew what was going on, so he opened his mouth, not really knowing what to say.

“Uhm… I think we should… we should” he looked at Jim, who was now holding Paul’s hand, silent “leave them alone”

“I’m staying” Jane said immediately, grasping Paul’s other hand tighter. “I’m sorry, sir… Jim. I’ve got to stay. My plane leaves tomorrow” she frowned and smiled sadly “I need to”
Jim looked confused. He’d just arrived and she was already leaving. John wanted to scream of gladness. Jane was leaving the next day. That… that was perfect, that left Paul just for him, that was awesome! That…Maybe he could…

“Oh, there’s no problem, dear. I think Jane can stay. Can’t she, Paul?”

“Yeah, she can stay” Paul said closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say hello” Jim apologized, looking at everybody in the room “George, Ringo, Jane…” Jim turned to see the man at the door “John”

“Can John stay too, Da?” Paul asked innocently.

Jim had never liked John. Honestly, his dream had always been to see his son becoming a teacher, studying, making him proud, but that problematic boy appeared every afternoon at his home, knocking at the door with a guitar in his hand, wearing tight leather pants and a black jacket. Sometimes, Paul would say “Da, I’ll be at John’s” and he’d leave. Jim thought there wasn’t a real future in music (he suddenly remembered his son coming back from Hamburg, looking skinny and tired) and, of course, he was wrong. He was now a Beatle and he was more than proud of his son, his talented, successful and handsome boy, but he’d never forget what John had represented to him.

There was a silence and John held his breath, with his eyes wide open and turning his hands into fists.

“Uhm… do you want him to stay?” Jim asked his son who was now tenderly smiling at him.
“Please?” Maybe Paul thought he was a child again and had to ask for permission for everything he wanted to do. Yes, he’d always been like that. His daddy’s boy. John smiled, remembering the day they met, when he was with The Quarrymen, moving his hips and singing like The King. Paul was so sweet, dressed like a good boy, smiling like a little child. Of course, the younger boy had impressed him later with Twenty Flight Rock and after that day, his sometimes rather arrogant attitude annoyed him like hell, but, he knew there was something very sweet and –maybe- weak beneath that cute face.

“Yes, yes… He can stay” he sighed and kept silent. He wanted to know so many things, but Paul couldn’t respond, he knew that, so he chose to ask the others.

Ringo and George knew it was time to leave, so they smiled at them and left the room, walking slowly. Ringo said something inaudible to George and then put his arm over his skinny shoulders, leading their way to the hallway.

So there they were, the four of them, not knowing what to do or say.

“So… how is he? Is there any treatment for… this?” Jim looked at Jane who smiled sadly. She didn’t know the answer, of course. She hadn’t been there during the whole fucking nightmare “Uhm… John?”

“He’s stable. And… the doctor said there’s a treatment, but I don’t know what it is. He just told us he was going to check the exams and then he’d take a decision”

“If he’s stable, why is he drugged?” it was Jane’s turn to ask. Jim’s penetrating stare made John nervous. Paul’s father was feeling terrible. His boy was there, at a hospital, sick. And it was not just a cold. He was really bad. The man suddenly felt the need to cry. But John spoke first.

“I…” What was he going to say? ‘I was gonna confess my love for him and then insulted him’? Shit. It wasn’t going to work. They’d probably kill him or something.

Jim noticed the nervousness in his son’s friend.

“What happened?”

“I…” he couldn’t make up a lie, what would he say? After all, the nurses were going to tell Jim everything he wanted to know. He was his father and he had the right, while John was… he was nothing. Well, he was his friend and the man who was in love with him and… his soulmate, but the nurses wouldn’t understand that. There was no escape “I just… I just got him upset”
Jim’s face contorted and Jane killed him with her piercing eyes.

“What?” the man got up from the chair he was sitting on “You got him upset?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry, he…”

“He’s sick and you get him upset. How nice of you!” John left his eyes ajar. “What did he do, John? “ Jim was beginning to look frightening, despite his age and kindness “He told you he was a best songwriter? Uh? Of course, you couldn’t stand that, could you, Lennon?”

“No, no! Fuck!” No, now he was swearing in front of Paul’s father. Jerk “I… that didn’t happen”

“I bet it did! I never liked your attitude, as if you were better than Paul” The man was getting closer, until his face was now inches from John’s. He grabbed the collar of his shirt, menacingly. “I never liked…”

“Get off me! What the fuck is going on with you?” John yelled, pulling away from Jim “Paul’s here, sick and you… I know I made a fucking mistake! I know! But at least I’m not trying to punch people in front of him, while he’s fucking… bad! No matter how much I want to!”

Jane put his hands over her mouth, trying to muffle a scream. She just sat there, watching the whole scene. But John wasn’t going to stand that shit anymore. He felt that he was the only one who cared about Paul, who loved him the most. Yes, he was a fucking selfish jerk. So what?

“How you dare to talk to me like that, boy?” Jim’s sharp eyes sent angry sparks.
“Fuck off”

It was that simple. Two words and he immediately felt a fist hitting his cheekbone. He fell to the floor, touching his face and checking how hard Jim had punched him. His blood was boiling inside him. He wanted to hit him back so bad, he wanted to hurt him back. Jane couldn’t move and Paul yelled something like ‘barmy!’

“Behave, boy! Just…” the man closed his eyes. He didn’t seem to find the right words “Just get out! Get out of here!”

John stood up, silently, slowly, looking everywhere but Jim or Jane and, without knowing why, feeling utterly ashamed. But then it happened.

“John?” Paul’s voice startled him, and he turned to see his friend (or whatever he was at that moment). Paul was looking at him, yearning, with his huge eyes wide open “Why you leaving?”

John smiled and then sighed.

“No, Paulie. I’m not leaving” he wasn’t going to escape this time. What was he doing? Paul was his, and he was staying. He walked over his own steps and sat on the bed next to Paul, facing Jane.

“I can’t believe this” the woman said, then looked at John with tears in her eyes, which seemed to be originated by anger rather than sorrow. “I can’t. He doesn’t even talk to me! And he wants you to stay!”

“I don’t know what you want, John” Jim couldn’t believe it, either “but you better watch what you do. If Paul gets hurt, I…”

“He won’t”

Defeated, Jim left the room, followed by Jane who seemed to want to murder John. Paul didn’t say a word this time while they left. John held his hand and stroked it with his thumb.

“They left, John” Paul’s face adopted a scared expression “The left. They don’t love me!”}

“No, Paul. They love you. But you know what?” John smiled at him, looking at his eyes, feeling all the love he felt for him growing and growing inside.

“Wha?”

“I love you more”

TO BE CONTINUED...

UI: Chapter 13

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 02:45:27 GMT

Here it is! Sorry about the delay, guys, but I've been really busy. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ;)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 13)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: Jane vs. John?
Warning: This fic has strong stuations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1
Chapter 12: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13429.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 13)

“Hi, Jane” George, with a sad expression on his face, greeted the woman. However, John didn’t say a word.

“Hello, George” she was sobbing silently, almost reaching a pathetic attitude “John”

John startled. Her voice was cold and sharp, but with good reason. That man hadn’t told her anything about his boyfriend’s condition and that was unacceptable. She needed, no, she deserved and had to know, of course. After all, she was the most important person in Paul’s life, his passion and… they’d probably get married! Why hadn’t he told her?

“Hello, John” she repeated.

“Hi” No apologize. He was like that, always proud and pejorative. At least when it was about her.

“I need to see him” she wiped the tears running from her eyes and looked at George, waiting for an answer. She didn’t even try to get it from John. Impossible task. “How is he?”

“He’s…” but George couldn’t form an answer. He didn’t really know for sure how Paul was, spending most of his time cursing him and trying to hold his rage. Of course, things weren’t like that anymore, but just at that moment, when he really wanted to see how he was doing, somebody asked him.

“Ahm… I suppose… Brian didn’t tell you?”

It was obvious that Brian had told her, otherwise, she wouldn’t be crying, but…

“He only told me about the…” it was so difficult “illness, but he didn’t explain anything.”

“I…. He’s fine”

I hope

“I need to see him” she repeated, looking desperate and worried. Well, she didn’t even know how bad Paul was and, despite his hatred towards the woman, John Lennon understood well, because he knew how that unbearable impotence felt.

“Excuse me” a rather attractive nurse approached them and stood next to Jane, who looked at her with a hopeful stare “Are you here to visit someone? Oh, Mr. Lennon, Mr. Harrison” she realized how she was talking to “Miss…”

“Asher. Paul McCartney’s girlfriend” the red-haired woman drilled John’s eyes with her own.
Of course, she recognized George and… John, but she couldn’t recognize her? She was important in Paul’s life, too, she was the most important, Paul had told her that. Besides, she was famous, too, wasn’t she? Just like that… that Lennon, who, whatever the reason was, was trying to keep her away from Paul.

“Mr. Starr is in the room with Paul… I mean, Mr. McCartney” the nurse mumbled, nervously “You know, only one person is allowed in the room, but Mr. Epstein…”

I bet he paid the hospital a fortune, or maybe he’s going to allow the bird to take some of Paul’s DNA. Who knows

“You can come in” the blonde woman said and smiled, intimidated, while holding her arm in the hair pointing out Paul’s room.

Jane and George began to walk, stepping unstably. Jane grabbed the man’s arm and sighed. John observed them walk slowly, not talking, not looking at each other. He was scared of Paul’s reaction when he saw him. After all, he’d left him there in the middle of… a cough attack, or whatever had happened to him. But he had to see how he was; he needed to, just for his mental health.

“Hey, luv” John said to the nurse, who shivered instantly and got nervous when the man looked at her eyes “Who’s your favorite Beatle?”

The woman looked confused. She wasn’t expecting that question to begin a flirtation.

“Uhm… Paul”

John laughed.

“What a coincidence. Mine, too” he winked and then he followed George’s and Jane’s footprints to Paul’s room.

****************************************************************************

Ringo was sitting on a chair next to Paul, holding his hand, when the three of them entered the room. John was panicked and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide that from Paul, however, it would have been useless, because Paul was asleep.

“How was he?” John asked Ringo immediately, feeling the guilt falling on his head and shoulders.

“He was really upset, so… they sedated him” Ringo answered, looking at John, accusingly. He was about to let him know what he thought about all that shit- Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?- But then he noticed it. Jane was there “Hello, Jane” he smiled “How are you?”

The woman was observing Paul, almost eating the image of his boyfriend with her eyes. She was destroyed, terribly sad, the tears filling her eyes, her eyebrows curving in a painful angle.

“Oh, my God!” she moaned, grabbing her purse until her knuckles turned white. Ringo knew it was time to let her approach Paul, so he stood up and looked at her, wanting to give her something he didn’t even have, strength… joy…

Jane walked towards Paul and leaned over him. She began to kiss his cheeks tenderly, gently, and then she stroked his lips before kissing them.

God, that was unbearable. John couldn’t even watch them, it was like someone was stabbing his chest once, and then once again. It was painful. Paul was unconscious and he didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t matter. Paul was his! He… Fuck! He wanted him to be only his, he longer for Paul to leave that woman and realize he was his real soulmate. He couldn’t deny that, could he? She kept caressing his face, so close, so fucking romantic that it was disgusting. He couldn’t… it was impossible… He had to…

“Leave him fucking alone!” John yelled, his hands turned into fists.

She didn’t move, in fact, she froze and stopped kissing his boyfriend, but she didn’t look at John.

Ringo knew. George knew. It was happening and John would fight for him, it didn’t matter it was a woman who loved Paul, and maybe it didn’t matter that Paul was in love with her, too. Not to John. If he wanted Paul, he’d have him and both knew that.

“What?” for the first time, George didn’t feel pity for himself. He didn’t think about how miserable he was, but he felt John’s pain. He knew everything was collapsing inside him.

“JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE! GET AWAY FROM HIM!” John repeated, sending angry flashes with his stare.

Jane turned to see John, looking utterly shocked, with eyes wide open, parted lips, eyebrows hidden under her bangs.

“John, you don’t know what you’re saying” Ringo warned him, grabbed his arm and began pulling him to the hallway.

“No!” he tugged his arm away from his friend “No, fuck, NO!”

Ringo faced John, impeding him to keep watching the scene.

“John, please” he whispered sternly, looking at John’s misshaped expression caused by the wrath he held “You’re only making a fool of yourself. You want Jane to know…?”

“She should know!” but, despite the meaning of his words, he whispered, too, not really wanting the woman to hear. He was ashamed.

“John!” the drummer warned for the last time.

And then…

“Hi, baby!” Jane’s voice broke something inside John’s chest “Oh, God. I’ve been so worried. How are you? Are you…?”

Paul was waking up, opening his eyes and trying to focus the image of the woman talking to him.

“Ahm…” he frowned and touched his head, as if he was having a terrible headache “Jane?”

“God, yes, baby! How are you feeling?”

“Luv? I…” Paul seemed to be lost and confused, still sedated.

“Yes, it’s me” she answered sweetly, smiling and stroking his cheeks “You look so handsome, Paul”

“Let him breathe, Jane” John said, unable to take more of that bullshit.

And get away from him

Ringo grimaced and was about to say something, when John interrupted.

“Just… fuck off, Rings” he felt the need to cry, but he wouldn’t let Jane see him, he wouldn’t give her that pleasure. John almost ran to leave the room, wanting to escape from that hell.

He began to cry silently, walking fast, wherever his feet wanted to lead him. He wanted to be alone to cry in peace, if he didn’t, he’d punch or kick someone and he wasn’t in condition to get into more trouble. However, the person that appeared suddenly in front of him was the last one he would have chosen to hit. He looked up to see the man’s face, so he couldn’t hide his tears.

“Hello, John” Jim McCartney was talking to him. John blinked a few times making a big effort to understand “You’re crying, son”

“I… I’m… Hello, sir” he didn’t know what to say, so he uttered the first thing that came to his mind, which, paradoxically was exactly what the old man wanted to know “Paul’s room is right there. I… Just follow me”

TO BE CONTINUED…

I'd love to know what you think *blushes*... please? comments? :)

UI: Chapter 12

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 17:27:10 GMT

Yes! Chapter 12 is here. And, as a compensation, this part is longer than the others (I think this is the longest chapter I've written).
Enjoy!

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 12)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
Summary: George and John finally talk. Ringo is worried about Paul. A girl appears.
A/N: Be patient. Sweet J/P interaction is on the way ;)
Warning: This fic has strong stuations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1
Chapter 11: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/13251.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 12)

“How’s he?” Ringo asked when John entered the cafeteria, holding a cigarette between his fingers, smoking it fiercely.

“I just told him” John responded, and looked at his side, sighing and letting the smoke swirl in front of his worried face.

“What? You told him he’s…”

“Yeah. And the fucking git told me to get out. I just wanted to…” another drag from the cigarette and a little bright tear coming from his eye, he wiped it immediately and sat beside Ringo, needing friendly company. Ringo was out of words. He knew John could be terribly cold and sharp to tell that kind of thing and, honestly, he’d thought about that moment and had promised himself to be there with Paul. He never thought that John would just go and tell him.

“And Dr. Smith knows…?”

“About this? Yeah, I asked him. I bet he was relieved he didn’t have to do it himself”

“You all right?” George inquired, speaking very shyly and doing his best to look at John in the eye.

“No, fuck no. He called me…” No, they didn’t need to know, really. That had been Paul’s illness talking after all “He was having… he was bad, coughing… I…”

“God” Ringo rubbed his eyes and took a sip from his tea “So you fucking left him there, John?”

“Nurses know what to do, you know” Yes. He was really hurt and he didn’t really know why. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been called ‘disgusting’ before. He’d been called worse things, actually, but the insult had come from Paul’s lips and fuck… yes! It hurt. His pride was made of iron, but Paul had touched it easily.

“You’re fucking out of your mind” Ringo stood up. He didn’t understand John. Actually, he didn’t understand anything of what was happening “You’re in love with him and you don’ give a shit if he’s bad?”

“You don’t know a fuckin’ thing, Ringo! He really can be a bastard sometimes!” The ashes of his cigarette were falling to the floor now, but he didn’t care.

“And he’s ill, remember? He’s fucking ill, John” the drummer took a deep breath and then drank the last sip of his tea, leaving the empty cup over the white tablecloth. “I’ll go see how he’s doing. I suppose he needs some company right now”

Ringo exited the cafeteria, almost running to the third floor, leaving John standing there alone and George still sitting and drinking his coffee in silence. After a few seconds the younger man gathered all his bravery.

“I’m sorry, John. I really do. I know it hurts when the person you love insults you. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Maybe he deserved it. John didn’t really know, but the comment made him hate George even more.

“I think you should keep your fucking mouth shut, you bloody queer”

George was the quiet one and he knew it, but he’d had enough of everything. Despite the fame, the birds and the money, everything he had longed for since he was a little boy, he didn’t want to be a Beatle anymore.

“Ha! Finally… you say it. I was beginning to think you were a fucking coward. C’mon, Johnny, let it out. You hate me. Just say it. You love Paul, you don’t love me and you think I’m fucking disgusting, don’t you?”

Fucking disgusting

That’s what Paul had called him minutes ago and at that moment it had seemed almost unbearable. Yes. The man he loved had said that to him and… he couldn’t do that to George, because the man George loved was, unfortunately, John. He wouldn’t do the same.

“You fall for the cute ones, don’t you? You…”

“Just shut up, George!” he wasn’t going to let that go further. Paul needed them. The three of them, he finally understood “You’re not fucking disgusting. I…” John sighed and turned his back on George, ashamed and shy “I’m really sorry that you… you feel things for me, but I can’t do anything about it. You know I love…”

“Paul. I get it, John” he fell silent for a moment and then his eyes looked for John’s “I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry, too, George”

George stood up and walked towards John. What they called cafeteria wasn’t more than a simple and tiny room. They couldn’t go to the big one for obvious reasons, and the hospital had given them a private one. George thanked they were alone. He was now centimetres from John’s body.

“Please, don’t freak out or anything…” he took John’s hand and stroked it clumsily “Just… let me hold you”

John froze. He could have pulled away immediately, but his body didn’t respond. George walked a few more steps until he was facing him, a sincere smile placed on his lips. Then he held him tight and breathed in his scent, knowing someway that that could be the last time they shared a moment like that.

He then let him go and sighed deeply.

“We should go with Ringo. Paul needs you, you know”

****************************************************************************

When Ringo entered Paul’s room he was shocked to see his face. He was terribly pale, with dark bags under his eyes, but the bassist heard him and turned his face to the side. He smiled.

“Hey, Paul” the drummer looked at Paul’s left hand and grimaced “Don’t they know you’re left-handed?” The IV was there and he knew it was uncomfortable to use the hand with that thing stuck in it.

“I…” Paul chuckled like a little boy “No, I don’t think so, but I couldn’t protest. I was sleeping, or… unconscious. I can’t tell the difference now, you know” and then he smiled again.

Ringo loved this guy and it was hard to see him like that. He approached the bed and sat on a chair beside the night table. He smiled and realized how tired Paul looked. His eyes didn’t look as big as usual and they’d lost shine. He didn’t want to think about how different his friend was looking, so he stared at the door for a few seconds and then changed the subject.

“Does it hurt?”

“Everything hurts, but… I’m fine”

“So… you know about your illness”

Paul’s eyes grew sadder and his lips curved in a weird way. He nodded.

“I’m really sorry, Paul”

But immediately, Paul chuckled and looked at his left hand.

“They put something here, you know. Anyway, I feel better now, cause John made me yell and I didn’t want to… yell…” Paul closed his eyes and chuckled again.

Ringo understood immediately. They’d given him some kind of sedative after his argument with John. The drummer stood up and leaned over Paul, half closing his blue eyes, examining his friend’s face. Then he sat on the bed beside Paul and took his hand on his. He squeezed it, thinking about how hard this was going to be for everybody.

“How’s me Da?” Paul opened his eyes again and tried to focus Ringo’s shape sitting next to him.

“He’s all right, Paul. Brian told him, and… he’s worried and all, but he’s ok. He’ll be here soon”

“But he’s in Liverpool”

“Yes. He’s in Liverpool” he squeezed Paul’s hand again and sighed. It was like talking to a five year old “But he’ll come to see you, Paulie”

“Yeah, me Da loves me” he scratched his nose “Not sure about Mike, though” and he chuckled again, looking at Ringo with innocent eyes. His well known childish features made a perfect mixture with the naïve expression on his face. He seemed so happy and calm, as if he wasn’t aware of anything of what was happening to him. Ringo wished they could sedate him everyday. That way, he wouldn’t have to face his shitty reality.

“I think Mike loves you, Paul” Ringo laughed, too, but only a bitter sound came out from his lips “I bet he’ll be here as soon as possible, too”

Paul began to hum a tune and then he rubbed his eye with his free hand.

“Yer hand’s warm, Ringo”

The drummer smiled. He didn’t want to leave him like that, however, the ICU had visit hours. He cursed the schedules. Suddenly, he remembered something important.

“Paul, Jane called today and talked to Brian. I think she’ll be here by tomorrow”

“I don’t wanna see her. She doesn’t like me”

Ringo frowned.

“She loves you”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Paul sang and giggled, swinging Ringo’s hand as he did so.

“Seriously. Paul, she’s your girlfriend”

“And she doesn’t like me. She’s gonna break up with me”

“What?”

“Yep” Paul nodded and then looked at the ceiling “Where’s John?”

“He’s at the cafeteria, Paul”

“I think he really loves me…” Ringo was about to ask him about the subject, but he knew that Paul wasn’t at his best moment to answer “Yep, he loves me… yeah, yeah, yeah…” the younger man sang again before he closed his eyes, exhausted “Want to sleep now, ‘k?

“Ok, Paul”

****************************************************************************

The silence between George and John was awkward, but none of them tried to break it. It was better like that. They walked through the corridors of the hospital slowly, thinking about what had just happened at the cafeteria. They preferred to take the stairs, something inside them made them feel ashamed to face Paul again. George had said he hated Paul. John had argued with him, but, to be honest, George didn’t really hate Paul and John only wanted to apologize to him.

When they reached the third floor, they saw Brian talking to a nurse at the entrance of the ICU and a red-haired girl beside him. The manager turned his head to the side to see them and smiled sadly. The bird didn’t say a word.

“I was looking for you, boys. I need to go and solve the problem with the fans. They were expecting this tour. The press conference is “he checked his watch “in an hour, so I need you to be here with Jane. She’s just arrived”

John looked at Jane and noticed she was crying.

“I just told her” Brian said slowly “You can go with her to see Paul”

TO BE CONTINUED…

I'd love to know what you think *blushes*... please? comments? :)

UI: Chapter 11

Wed, 28 Nov 2007 16:45:48 GMT

Work!Work!Work! I'm going insane *faints*
But I'm doing my best to write this as soon as possible. This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but I hope you like it ;)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 11)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
A/N: John and Paul talk.
Warning: This fic has really strong stuations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1
Chapter 10:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12962.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 11)

“I… I…” Paul began to tremble in John’s hug and, as so many times before, he didn’t know what to do, so he kept holding him, pushing him against his own body “How…?… I… I don’t get it, John”

“Well… Me neither, Paul…” silence again and then a little noise “Paul? Paulie? Hey” Paul began to sob and John sighed still stroking his hair “Hey, you… Look, you’ll be ok” he was crap at that stuff, but someway he knew how to hold Paul. It wasn’t like he hadn’t hugged Paul before, but at that moment he noticed how well their bodies fit.

Paul looked up at his friend with teary eyes and suddenly frowned.

“Fuck. I don’t want to hold you, I… George…” John knew what he was talking about “But I dunno. I need to”

“Well, enjoy it then, aye?”

Paul sighed. John knew that he was disgusted, he was still angry and held a lot of fury inside him, but if he knew. If he really knew how he felt… However, he couldn’t tell him now. He’d get upset and that Smith was right. He was the doctor, after all.

“How’s Jane? Does she know?” Paul’s question startled him and he pulled away a little. Paul rubbed his eyes with his fingers. John noticed the well known dark hair that crowned those beautiful hands, it was like a little fuzz, very masculine and fucking sexy.

“She… I’m not sure, mate. Maybe Brian told her. I haven’t talked to her” It was a lie. He had even hung up the phone to her. He prayed, begging that Brian wouldn’t tell anything to the bird.

“I don’t know if I want her to know, really. I mean… She must know, but she’ll fucking freak out”

“Yeah” Fucking great. He was there, taking care of him, telling him that everything was going to be all right and he was worried about the damn red-haired bird? “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her, Paul”

He knew it. She’d come right away and he wouldn’t be able to take care of Paul or demonstrate him how much he wanted to be with him. He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise of taking care of him. Not how he wanted to.

He saw Paul so vulnerable and weak. He just wanted to touch him, kiss him, but it wouldn’t be right, at least for the younger man. However, John Lennon was known for being impulsive and the desire was a need right now.

Paul sighed, held his head in his hand and leaned against the pillows of his white bed, tired and pale. He was right there. He could just lean over him and kiss him.

John slid his hand over the blankets and touched his hand, very friendly and gently, but then he grabbed it with strength, feeling needy and desperate. Paul had his eyes closed and his features were a perfect mix to create the most painful expression John had seen on his face, but Paul felt that hand in his and at that moment, he could swear John could hear his heartbeat. He opened his eyes slowly and turned his head to the side to look at John. John’s eyes were tired. Probably he hadn’t slept very well. Paul didn’t do anything to pull his hand away. God, he needed that. He needed something, someone to show him that he wasn’t alone at that fucking moment, when he felt lonelier than ever.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Paul asked, still looking at John, almost penetrating his soul with his deep stare.

“Dunno. I felt like doing it, Macca”

“I’m fucking scared, John” he sighed and his eyes began to get very bright and wet, his eyebrows curving.

“I know. I am too, you know. I just…” He needed to know he loved him, he needed to. “You need to know something”

Paul squeezed his hand and listened intently. John didn’t know if Paul kept holding his hand because he wanted to or because he was too weak to stop doing it.

“What?”

“I… well, you know that something happened with… with George and I wanted to…”

“Fuck!” Paul touched his forehead with his hand, grimacing and moaning.

“What!? What’s wrong!?” Hell. What the fuck was happening?

“Get out, John”

What? What the hell…?

“But… shit… what’s wrong with you? Are you… Are you ok? You feel all right, Paul?”

John was sure that that outburst had been caused by his symptoms, but his next words told him immediately that it had been his own fault. Dr. Smith’s words came to his head, resounding like a mantra.

Don’t get him upset

“No! Get the fuck out! I don’t…” John knew he was in pain, but Paul was the most stubborn guy he knew. Nothing would work at that moment. He made an effort to catch his breath “I don’t want to hear that. You’re fucking disgusting, Lennon”

So that was the mood change. John hated leukemia and he hated Paul for having it and he hated himself for being so disgusting and he fucking hated everything. He fucking hated everything!

“Fuck you, Macca” he couldn’t bear that anymore. Paul didn’t know how much it hurt him hearing that from him “You’re a fucking pain in the ass sometimes. I’m sure you fucking knew that” he felt guilty. John knew it was his fault and he knew the symptoms were talking for Paul, but he wouldn’t stand that. He was about to confess his feelings and he’d been called ‘fucking disgusting’. What the fuck was that?

Paul began to cough, but his pride won and he left the room slamming the door behind him. However, he needed to do something before leaving the ICU. A woman dressed in white looked at him with curiosity. John walked towards her, upset and angry.

“I think the patient in that room is not feeling good right now” he said with inexpressive voice.

And he approached the exit, thinking about how bad he needed to smoke a joint.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I'd love to know what you think *blushes*... please? comments? :)

UI: Chapter 10

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 00:59:15 GMT

Finally, here's chapter ten, made with love from me to you, guys! Hope you enjoy it and leave comments.

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 10)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
A/N: Paul needs to know.
Warning: This fic has really strong stuations (serious illness), so you decide whether you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1
Chapter 9:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12787.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 10)

“How the hell…? You’re joking! You’re fucking joking!”

He wanted to punch the doctor so bad. He was so calm, so bloody happy with his bright, perfect doctor’s life, while Paul was probably dying.
That was bad. He wasn’t a doctor, he knew, but leukemia was terrible, it was hell for those who had it. He actually felt he wanted to die right there, right now.

John collapsed on the sofa and hid his face behind his hands. It had been a nightmare all the time. He’d been suffering, but now that damn man was telling him that his fears were completely true.

“Look, I need to ask you some questions about the patient, so…”

“His name is Paul” John said bitterly not daring to look at anyone “in case you forgot…doctor…”

“Smith” he completed looking down at John, pejoratively “So if you don’t mind…”

“No, we… we don’t mind. Just…” Ringo responded nervously, fidgeting with his hands and looking terribly pale.

“Of course we don’t mind! You’re the fucking doctor here, aren’t you? So YOU tell US what to do”

“John…” George’s scared voice wasn’t enough to stop John’s outburst.

“You know something? You shouldn’t fucking ask anything! Anything! You’re supposed to know everything! Is he going to be alright? Is he going to die? WE should ask you! You tell us… You tell us what to… “ his voice was fading away, slowly, almost exposing his deep need to cry.

“John… please…” George placed his hand on John’s shoulder and sighed looking at Ringo for an answer “We’re gonna do everything to help him”

Suddenly, George didn’t feel like the protagonist of the story anymore. Paul could die and that was… God… He was in love with John, he had suffered, but this was something. It really was something of matter.

“He’s right, John” Ringo added, staring at him with his sweet blue eyes.

“Well, should I ask now or…?” the doctor was beginning to get nervous and impatient.

“Yes” Ringo said and nodded kindly.

“Ok” the man looked at some papers in his hands and sighed “Was the patient… Paul… vaccinated against Hepatitis B?”

“Hell” John cursed and grabbed a lock of his hair, as if he was punishing himself.

“We…” Ringo looked at the others with confused eyes. George denied with his head and John kept cursing “We don’t know really”

“Ok” the man raised his eyebrows “Ahm… Has he been under a lot of pressure lately or has he showed symptoms of depression?”

“His girlfriend is going to leave him” John said gloomily still looking down at the floor “Fucking bird”

“Ok, but… was he depressed about that?”

That and the fact that he found me in bed with George. Shit

“Of course he was!”

Ringo scolded him with his eyes and then looked at George.

“I need you to be calm about this. If you’re too worried or sad or… “John murdered him with his sharp eyes “anything, he’ll feel it and that could affect him more than we want, so… please, I ask you to be tranquil. Leave this in our hands and we’ll do everything we can”

“You better do it” John said sharply and looked up at the doctor with a frozen stare.

“I must warn you. He may present more symptoms for which he will be checked each hour by our nurses, alright?”

“What symptoms?” George asked in a low voice, as if he was scared of breaking something if he spoke to loud.

“Well” the doctor checked the papers in his hand once more and passed a hand through his blonde hair “He already presented the hemorrhage with the nosebleed, but you must know that that could happen again and in other parts of his body” he sighed” He’s going to be really weak, but that’s not a big problem since he has to stay in bed”

With every second, John hated more and more his fucking American accent. He couldn’t stand it.

“He’s not going to look good. In fact, he’s already pale and has dark circles under his eyes. So, when you see him… well… you know. He’s going to lose the appetite, he’ll be dizzy and have chills, headaches, frequent infection and external hematomas without having hit himself”

“Anything else? No convulsions? No big show? No fucking screaming? That must be a relief for you, isn’t it?”

Shut up! Just shut up!

But John didn’t know whether he was telling that to the doctor or himself.

“Another symptoms are night sweats, loss of the pink color of the fingernails, frequent mood swings, so please, don’t get him upset, and… in some cases, memory loss”

“What?” Ringo asked, eyes wide open. “Memory loss? But, he’s going to remember us, isn’t he?” his voice was really scared. John could feel it. He couldn’t take it anymore. Was Paul going to forget him? And if he did, would he remember him later?

But you could forget that night, Paul. Please forget what you saw that night. I swear I’m not queer. I just love you

“I wish I could forget some things, like your fucking American face” it was enough. He didn’t want to hear anything else about Paul’s illness. He couldn’t control his mouth and at that moment neither his feet, so he walked slowly towards the door, utterly worn out, sick of everything, leaving the doctor completely consternated, in silence.

********************************************************************

He could finally see his eyes and he had to admit… it was painful. They were still big, hazel, sweet, but… something had turned out inside them. Paul needed to know what was going on and he’d told Dr. Smith he would do it, but it was almost impossible to even imagine the moment. John didn’t really know what his reaction would be and, to be honest, he didn’t want to discover it.

And there he was, while Ringo and George were at the cafeteria. After all, it was the cosiest place in the hospital. He looked down at his hands and then at the big bag of serum hanging next to Paul’s bed. He was awake, but wasn’t looking at him, and the silence was becoming more and more unbearable.

Please, look at me

“I’m… I’m not sure, John, if…” he coughed and John grimaced “if I want to see you right now”

The guitarist sighed remembering the incident between he and George, then stood up.

“Well, you’re in bed and I’m not, so let’s say I have advantage over you” he approached Paul and touched his face with his right hand, forgetting how bad he was looking and obliging him to look at him, pushing his face to his side. The younger man shivered.

He couldn’t do it. But he should. And… Shit… when the fucking hell had he done what he should? But this was Paul. It was him. He sat on the bed next to his bandmate and for the first time he stared at Paul right in the eye. It was hard. It was really sad.

“So you want to tell me… something?” his voice was rough and tired.

“Yes, Paul” he turned to see the door of the room, not really knowing why and then he spoke “Look, you know I’m not into this sentimental thing and I’m not good at telling this kind of news but..” Paul’s eyes widened as if he knew John’s next words.

“What’s wrong with me, John?” Silence. John closed his eyes and thought of the exact words he would use “Fucking hell! Tell me, Lennon!”

“Paul, you had these symptoms because… you’ve got leukemia”

Yes. He’d said it and, gathering all his bravery he dared to look at the younger man. His face was blank and disfigured by the news, his mouth open and his eyes really bright, beginning to get wet.

“What?”

“Hell, Paul. I’m sorry, I…” he was about to cry, but he had to stay strong for him “I swear I’d do anything to…” he didn’t know what to say next, so he kept silent and let Paul assimilate the news. After a moment he finally spoke.

“John…” Paul said with a trembling voice. He kept looking at some point on the wall, hypnotised and pale, even more than before hearing the news.

“Yes?” he was still sitting close to Paul and he felt a hand sliding around his waist. Paul raised his head and stared at John’s eyes for a few seconds, then he did something that John never thought would happen. He hugged him, or, rather, he asked to be hugged. It was a weak hug, but John loved it. He held him gently, caressing his hair and, as he had done hours ago, he kissed him on the head “I’ll take care of you. I promise”

TO BE CONTINUED...

I'd love to know what you think *blushes*... please? comments? :)

UI: Chapter 9

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 23:00:42 GMT

Hullo everybody! Here's chapter 9. Please leave comments! Pretty please?

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 9)
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
A/N: The diagnosis. (:o)
Warning: This fic has really strong stuations (serious illness), so you decide if you want to read it or not. If you're too sensitive and don't want to get upset, you better think twice before reading it. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1
Chapter 8:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12514.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 9)

“Shhh…” his voice was soft and soothing and Paul seemed to like it. He wasn’t unconscious, but John felt he was far away from him, with his eyes closed and his loose hands over the hospital blanket. He wasn’t supposed to be there. John checked his watch, but it was difficult to see what time it was. Yes. He was a stupid myopic and his eyes were terribly tired. It was eleven thirty, he could finally see. He sighed and thought about how fucking awful that day had been.

He didn’t see the procedure. Well, he couldn’t, but they explained to him that they needed a sample of his bone marrow, and seeing the needle was all he needed to know what was all that about. They’d told him to wait outside anyway, but he could hear a scream coming from the other side of the door. He didn’t leave, although all the warnings of the doctors and nurses, telling him they’d call security. He was John Lennon, for fuck’s sake. He was a fucking Beatle. What could they do to him? Were they going to kill him? Damn. They didn’t understand anything.

So he stayed there, with Paul in the tiny room of the ICU, however, he couldn’t just sit there and look at him, feeling so guilty and sad and depressed and wanting to die and… No. He had to touch him, at least, so he sat on the bed next to his limp body and put an arm around his head, which leaned comfortably against his chest. And they lay there in silence. Fortunately, nobody seemed to bother anymore in telling John to leave. Paul had slept for an hour and then he woke up, but he didn’t open his eyes, he just asked where he was and then moved from side to side uncomfortably.

John shut his eyes and suppressed a moan of pain, then he kissed Paul’s forehead and held him tighter.

What the hell is going to happen to us, Paul?

********************************************************************

The room was so white.

What a surprise

So white it was blinding him. And according to what Ringo had said, his face was white, too. Blank and inexpressive, but the wait was a torture. He needed to do something. He wasn’t able to sit there anymore. God. They were going to give the results of the exams. Leukemia.

“Oh, fuck”

What if he did have the illness? He wouldn’t stand losing him.

Yes. He needed his guitar. He’d compose a song right there. A song for Paul. A song that would tell everything he wanted Paul to know.

I love you. I need you. I want you. I need to make love to you. I need you to make love to me. I need you to love me. I’m so sick of love. I want you to love only me. And yes. I’m a selfish bastard and I know that.

But there wasn’t a guitar there, in the hospital, and his hands were so shaky that he couldn’t hold it, anyway. In his mind, everything was a chord out of tune.

“What are they doing now?” Ringo asked, very low, trying not to sound too nervous or scared.

“Dunno” John sighed “Fucking hell” he passed a hand through his auburn hair and then placed both hand over his eyes “I’m so fucking scared”

John wished he was dreaming, but the room was still white as the snow and that wouldn’t change. It was the damn reality.
George was sitting in a corner of the waiting room, staring intently at the floor and playing nervously with his long fingers. He was ashamed and embarrassed and, although everybody was worried about Paul and his condition, he felt like he was the protagonist of the story, the one who was suffering the most.

They hadn’t talked about the kiss. Of course, Ringo already knew that John had a crush on Paul, or that he loved him. He wasn’t sure. And he also knew that the sexuality of the Beatles was in the tightrope. Was he the only one who liked birds? Was Paul queer, too? Logically, he wouldn’t ask. Not now.

John took a magazine from a coffee table beside him and began to eye it inattentively, until he found a picture of himself, Paul, George and Ringo.

Yes. The sex symbols.

Crap

And John Lennon suddenly reacted after a long trance. He threw the magazine away. It hit the wall and then fell to the floor. He wasn’t in the mood to read that fucking banal bullshit about them. It was near five in the morning when a shy nurse woke him up in the room of the ICU and almost begged him to leave. He was tired and Paul was asleep, so he obeyed like a good boy. He let go Paul’s hand and left the room with slow heavy steps. And there they were, at nine thirty in the morning waiting for the fucking answer that could change their utter perception of the reality they were supposed to live.

He felt someone moving by his side and Ringo spoke softly, as if he was scared to break something if he spoke too loud.

“I need to talk to you”

And John was completely sure about what Ringo wanted to talk about.

“Look, Ringo. I don’t need your fucking…”

“You can be a real bastard sometimes, John”

“Tell me something I don’t fucking know, aye?” he sighed and let the silence overwhelm him.

“I need to know… Look…” Ringo looked extremely nervous, but he went on “Do you love, Paul?”

“What the…” John cursed George interiorly, wanting to murder him. He’d told Ringo. Fucking Harrison.

Couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Hell!

“Tell me”

“I… of course I luv him, Ringo. He’s like a…”

“No, fuck, no!” Ringo was beginning to get excited and John didn’t fancy a conversation with him like that at all “I mean… are you…?”

“Just fucking say it, ok? You want to know if I’m queer, don’t you?”

George wanted to cry. It was all his entire fault. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything to Ringo, but… he couldn’t hold it anymore. He knew Ringo would understand, or at least, he’d try to, and that was like an escape to him.

“Yes” Ringo’s voice was cold and hard, unlike the one who belonged to the sweet understanding drummer they all knew.

“Fucking great!” John celebrated with a fake voice “At least one of you is brave enough to talk about it” he added before sending a killer stare to George “Well, Rings. The answer is… Yes, I love Paul, I’m in love with him. And no, I’m not queer.

It sounded utterly absurd. He was in love with a man, but he wasn’t queer. That was all he knew. He just loved Paul, and only Paul. He was the one, however silly and disgustingly sweet that may sound.

That was the last chance for George. He’d give up. He didn’t have the strength to keep fighting for someone that was making him suffer that way. He raised his head and dared to look at John in the eye, but he was grateful he didn’t have to, because John wasn’t looking at him. Now he had his eyes covered with his hands, disarranging his mop top.

“You sure you still want to know more?” John asked, obviously hotheaded and sick of the conversation.

“Ok, John. Just… take it easy” the old Ringo was coming back “We don’t really know the diagnosis so… Think we’ll be back at the hotel by tomorrow”

“Or the next year. Whatever, Rings. You got used to these places. As for me, it’s making me fucking sick”

Ringo didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to talk anymore. The silence and the expression on their faces told everything they wanted to know. Suddenly, a noise coming from the door startled all of them. Was it the moment?

“Oh, fuck”

A man dressed in a white gown with a rather pejorative expression entered the little room.

“Good morning” he greeted in a polite tone.

“Morning” Ringo responded, but no one else spoke.

“We have got the results of the biopsy” his voice was neutral, so any attempt to decipher the news was in vain.

“So?” John asked expectantly.

I don’t want to be here. Fuck. I can’t stand this

He looked at Ringo. His blue eyes stared at the doctor in deep sorrow, like he was about to cry. He looked at George. He was already crying, silently.

“Look, I don’t really like to beat around the bush” John grimaced, moaned and then he felt a giant hand pressing his chest. He couldn’t breathe “The result is positive. Mr. McCartney’s got leukemia”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter 8!

Fri, 19 Oct 2007 03:48:00 GMT

Hullo guys! Chapter 8 is ready! I hope you enjoy and please leave comments. They're a huge motivation to keep writing ;)

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 8) Pure angst!
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
A/N: George confesses. John suffers. Ringo tries to fix it. Paul's in danger.
Warning: This fic has strong stuations (serious illness), so if you don't want to read this drama, I'll understand, hehe. Thank you, guys!

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1
Chapter 7:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/12088.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 8)

“No” Ringo said.

It was the only thing he could mutter. It was absurd. So absurd. He felt the urgency to cry right there, right now, in front of George, as if he was the one suffering a terrible illness, or the one who had fought against himself to confess his real sexual orientation.

“Weren’t you…? Fuck… I thought you liked birds” his blue eyes were wide open in shock. Everything was happening so fast that he felt he could no longer handle so many uncontrollable situations at the same time. It wasn’t his responsibility; however, he felt he had to do it. It was the only one who could. Paul was sick, John seemed to be in a deep depression because of it and George… George was queer.

“I… I really thought I did, Ringo. But this is just… I couldn’t hold it anymore” George kept crying, but this time tried to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You’re fucking going to tell me what happened that night” Yes. It was an order.

“I can’t…”

Ringo grabbed the collar of George’s shirt in a menacing gesture, although it was just a warning. He needed to be aware of what was happening and his friend wouldn’t leave that cafeteria before he told him everything he wanted to know.

“George” he said in a low voice and his blue eyes sparked “Please, tell me”

George looked down at the table and took a sip of his tea. It was bitter. He had forgotten the sugar.

“I…” he grimaced “I was in John’s bedroom. You know, that night… Paul and I… we switched rooms” Ringo nodded and encouraged him to go on “I… Ringo… I can’t tell you. It’s too embarrassing”

“Look at me, Geo. Hey, it’s me. Ringo? I won’t judge you or anything”

Yes, that was him. He’d always been like that. A sweet guy, he had to admit. He loved his friends and George needed full understanding at that moment.

“I…” George kept looking down at his cup of tea. He didn’t seem to have the courage to look him in the eye “I sneaked into his bed and…”

Ringo opened his eyes in shock again. Had they…?

“Don’t look at me like that. Fuck, Ringo. You said you’d understand”

Ringo grimaced at hearing the word ‘fuck’, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“I know” George wiped a new tear and continued “Hell. Look, we didn’t fuck, ok?” Ringo felt relieved. The image of two of his best friends fucking wasn’t pleasant to see, it was almost traumatic. George took the sugar and put two lumps in his cup “I… well… I touched him and…”

“I understand” it seemed to be like a torture to George continuing with the story and that was enough for him to get a part of what was going on. He sighed. “It’s ok” It wasn’t, but he had to pretend. George wasn’t really having a good time “So… I must take on that Paul caught you two”

George nodded and blushed violently.

“Yes. That was…fucking terrible” this time the tea was sweeter, yet it didn’t taste good “But… the worst thing about it was that John said…”

“John said what?”

“John called Paul’s name… all the fucking time, Ringo” The memory of John kissing Paul arrived at his mind once again, but this time it brought comprehension instead of more unbearable confusion “He said ‘I love you’”

So John was one of them, too? What the fuck was happening to them!?

Ringo wanted to yell at George. Why the hell was he involved in that twisted situation? Couldn’t he just keep apart from all that fucked toxic thing?

“Why are you doing this? Why the fucking hell did you do that, George? You shouldn’t…”

“He loves him, Ringo. John loves Paul” he began to cry again. Ringo leaned closer and put his hand over his friend’s, suddenly stopping his mouth “And I love him” And with ‘him’, Ringo knew that George was referring to John. It couldn’t be true. “I don’t want to hate Paul, but… I can’t help it”

****************************************************************************
He hated himself for have done that. He shouldn’t have yelled at her, but… he was in love. And he was sick. But the fact of being in the hospital didn’t help. Nobody could cure him.
He leaned against a wall and hid his face in arm, suffocating his raged breath. He needed to be with Paul. They had taken him away from him, to a room in the end of a long, endless white corridor. So now, he was at the entrance, near of something like a counter with a pretty blonde nurse, who was polishing her nails. The label said ICU.

He needed to see how Paul was.

****************************************************************************

Everything was so confusing. He made an effort to open his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. Every image was blurry, as if he was in the middle of a thick fog. He didn’t like at all the sensation of being disoriented.

Now he didn’t know where he was. He could only feel something soft on his back and remote voices of women. He heard the word ‘test’ and then a deep sigh. The last thing he remembered was a kiss. John had kissed him and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Would have he pulled away if he hadn’t been so sick? Maybe he’d returned the kiss, just for curiosity. It wasn’t like kissing a woman at all.

The voices approached him, he could feel it, but they were only two now, and one of them was a man’s. Then a door closed and he listened to the heavy silence of the place, only broken by the movements of the people in the room.

He was probably in the hospital. The fever, the blood. He knew he wasn’t ok. Then he heard a metallic sound and he felt a shiver crossing his spine, making him tremble.

“He’s asleep” the man’s voice said.

“Good” despite the fact that the voice was really high pitched, it didn’t sound feminine, or soft “I’m not in the mood of a scandalous performance of a patient today”

What the hell were they going to do to him? God, he didn’t want to be there. He just longed for them to know that he was awake and that, whatever they were going to do, it could hurt him.

Someone took his arm and after feeling a fresh, wet sensation on his skin a sharp pain took him by surprise.

Fuck!

That was a needle. He was sure. He wanted to wake up. It was just a needle, nothing to worry about, no big deal, but he wasn’t prepared. He didn’t know what the hell was happening. He needed to scream and to make them realize that he was awake and that he was in pain, and not only because of the needle. His whole body ached. He tried to scream, tried so hard.

“Leave me alone!” and he achieved it “Please!” But he felt so weak. Another scream and he’d be out of oxygen “PLEASE!”

****************************************************************************

He heard it, and that was all he needed to react. It was his voice. The blonde nurse didn’t notice he was there until he reached the middle of the corridor, looking for the room, desperately.

“Hey, sir! You’re not allowed to go in there!” she said with her American accent.

I’m John Lennon, so you can fuck off!

She couldn’t do anything about it. He was already there.

“Where the hell is he?” he asked himself, paradoxically hoping he’d scream again to follow the sound of his voice.

“No!”

That was all he needed to hear. When he reached the door and opened it violently, he immediately saw Paul’s painful expression, his features facing him with closed eyes. He was almost naked, a man was holding him while he struggled and a woman had a huge needle in her hand, pointing it at his lower back.

“What…?” he didn’t expect to see Paul like that. The image hit him like a gunshot “What are you doing to him?”

“You shouldn’t be here. You…”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?”

The answer scared the hell out of him.

“Bone marrow biopsy”

TO BE CONTINUED…

In case you don't know what a bone marrow biopsy is...

Chapter 7! :)

Wed, 17 Oct 2007 18:35:27 GMT

Hello, guys!
You asked for it and you made me happy and... now it's ready! :'(
Yes, Chapter 7!
I hope you enjoy and please leave comments.

Title: Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 7) YAY!
Pairing: J/P
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Beatles aren't mine (unfortunately)
A/N: John vs. Jane. (So what happened to George? Next chapter!)

You can find the previous chapters here:

Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1

Unaware Infidelity (Chapter 7)

She stood by the threshold of her bedroom door, staring intently at nothing. She was only thinking, checking once more the stream of thoughts inside her.

They hadn’t talked since the argument the day before and despite she had been the one who had hinted a breakup, she just longed for talking to him and knowing how he was at that moment. Sometimes her feminine pride just couldn’t hold the love she felt for him.

The hours passed and her mind had intended to make the call, but she didn’t, she just backed down and looked at the black telephone with fear. Her heartbeat was quick and it wouldn’t leave her alone.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she said with her soft sweet voice, asking for an answer.

Suddenly, the telephone rang and she made her way straight to the table, thinking inevitably of Paul, wishing it was him, knowing she would forgive everything after all and trying not to lose control.

“Hello?” it had been easy to take the receiver, since she had been thinking about doing that the last two hours.

But what wasn’t easy was to hear the voice from the other side.

“Jane?” a rough painful voice pronounced her name, startling her immediately.

“Yes? Who is it?” she placed a tuft of her hair behind her ear and listened attentively, turning her stare to a point in the emptiness.

“It’s John”

And then a deep silence filled the telephone line. John was calling her. Why him?

“John?” the question was stupid and absurd, insane. Everything seemed to become weird after hearing his voice.

Why John? Why not Paul?

“Yeah, it’s me” and after all those long seconds she realized the deepness and anxiety which impregnated his voice. “Are you there?”

“Uh? Oh, yes. Sorry, John. It’s just…” she meditated a few seconds “Is everything alright?”

Silence again, and it was becoming more and more awkward throughout the seconds. Jane could hear the uneven breathing on the other side of the line and the memories of the face that owned it began to leave the hidden places inside her head. But the face she remembered didn’t coincide with the voice, or at least, not the expression on it.

“Jane…”

“John… what’s going on?”

God, that wasn’t easy to handle, she could actually feel the nervousness John was probably experiencing.

“Jane… Paul…”

He had said it. Paul. That was the main word, the key to open the cage of sorrows in her soul.

“Is Paul alright, John?”

She was almost sure she had heard a sob.

“John?... What happened? What…”

“Paul passed out yesterday and now he’s… in the hospital”

“What?”

“It’s not that serious” Liar “he had flu and… then he had a fever and… well…”

“But a fever…” the image of Paul in bed, sweating and calling her filled her senses “It could not have been just a simple fever…”

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t”

****************************************************************************

He wasn’t going to say it. He wasn’t. He wouldn’t tell anyone. No… And it couldn’t be possible he was feeling the need to do it. Why? Maybe he wanted to see how she reacted before such a confession. She wouldn’t believe it. Nobody would believe it.

This is a nightmare… A fucking nightmare

“John?” Jane’s voice startled him. He could hear the sorrow in her soft feminine voice. But he was sure. No one loved Paul more than him, therefore, no one was more worried than him and nobody felt he could die if something happened to Paul… as he did. Should he tell her about his feelings?

It’s me who loves Paul

And he didn’t even care if that sounded as if he was a selfish bastard. After all, he was, indeed.

“John? Are you there?”

“Sorry, Jane” he didn’t really know what to say next. Should he go straight to the point? “Ahm…” The whiteness of the place was making him dizzy. Nurses, doctors. White. Everywhere. “We’re in the hospital. The doctors said that… Paul probably has… Jesus” No. No. No. It wasn’t true, was it? ”…has leukemia” and finally he held his urgency to cry.

The silence in the other end of the line confirmed him immediately what he was expecting. Fear, anger, impotence and a terrible anguish.

“Leukemia?... God! LEUKEMIA?” Jane’s voice trembled, which wasn’t pleasant to hear. No. He wouldn’t do it. Not now, at least. She was suffering, as well as him, and that could be unbearable to her at that precise moment. He had to accept it. That woman loved Paul, too. “How…? God! And I thought it was a cold, John… Oh, God”

John kept silent. He’d done what he had to. He wouldn’t say anything more. Jane already knew and he hadn’t to talk to her anymore, because, if he did, he could begin to feel again that Lennon emerging from him and he wouldn’t keep control of his mouth.

“But the doctors said they weren’t completely sure about it, Jane” he stopped and inhaled deeply “Listen. Don’t worry until they endorse the diagnostic, alright? They’re taking exams”

He remembered the fever and the blood coming from his nose and also his mouth when they arrived at the hospital. The paramedics said those were common symptoms of leukemia and told him something about the hemorrhages he’d had. Then they spoke in another language… it was like hemo-something and then a very complicated explanation about the bone marrow. But he wouldn’t say that to Jane. She’d probably freak out and travel there and… sincerely, he didn’t want to have her around. She’d stick to Paul and he wouldn’t be able to be with him as much as he wanted. And obviously, if she was there, the kisses could be already forgotten.

“I’ll phone you later, ok?” he added. He was panicked. He wasn’t a doctor, but knew what leukemia meant. And in spite of this he tried to soothe himself in vain ”Just… calm down”

“No, John. I want to know what’s happening. I’ll be there as…”

“NO!”

Then… pure silence.

“What?” Jane said confused, apparently becoming angry “I’ll be there, John. Paul needs me”

He had to bite his tongue, then closed his eyes and looked at some point in the ceiling.

No, he doesn’t need you. He’s fucking got me!”

“No, Jane. He’ll be alright!”

Yes. She was Paul’s girlfriend… so what? Fucking hell. He was the one who saw Paul everyday getting up in the morning. He was the one who had seen him cry. He was his best friend. They shared their lives everyday, while she was on the other side of the world doing who-the-fuck knows with her career.

Paul was ill. He was there. She wasn’t. It was simple.

“Tell me the name of the hospital”
“I told you he’ll…”
“Tell me, John. Please” and that sounded more like a plea, but that wouldn't soften John’s possessive heart.

“For fuck’s sake! You were going to break up with him!”

And that was the last sentence he pronounced before he hung up the receiver of the phone.

You don’t deserve him he thought You don’t fucking deserve him

TO BE CONTINUED…

You tell me

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 21:47:07 GMT

Hullo, everybody!
Remember my fic "Unaware Infidelity"?

You can fin it in my journal here:
Chapter 1:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6095.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6307.html#cutid1
Chapter 3:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6522.html#cutid1
Chapter 4:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/6868.html#cutid1
Chapter 5:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7304.html#cutid1
Chapter 6:http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/7541.html#cutid1

I was wondering... Should I continue it?
It's been a long time, I know.(*blushes*), but my muse disappeared! Now I've got some ideas on mind, though and I don't want to keep writing if you're no longer interested in reading the story. So... It depends on your comments here. You tell me, guys ;)
Thanks everybody!

Interview

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 18:05:52 GMT

I don't know what to say about this. To me it's just sad... and beautiful.

Lennon's views on McCartney:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCmKc5oqGGU&mode=related&search=

Peace.

New Fic! =D

Thu, 30 Aug 2007 23:06:30 GMT

Fic time! :D

Title: Hey, Jules
Rating: PG-13 (?)
Pairing: J/P (duh!)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened
A/N:: Hope you like this and leave comments please! :D

Hey, Jules

“I honestly think you should do it for him. Really” were Paul laconic words. His fingers were fidgeting, concentrating in the moves of a ciggie, which was about to be smoked by his owner.

“I honestly think you should keep your nose off my business” was Lennon’s cold answer. He didn’t even look at him. “Well, what do you care, anyway?”

The response was extremely obvious.

“You’re a fucking mess, you know. Someday you’ll regret about this” that sounded so like Paul, so I told you so, you silly cunt “ I can’t believe you’re leaving her. I can’t believe you’re leaving your son, John!”

Well, that was more reasonable. He stared at Paul’s hands as thoughts ran into his head. Yeah. Julian was the only obstacle.

And what about the bird, John?

“Fuck off” he mumbled. He didn’t know whether he was telling that to himself, the confusing thoughts or Cyn.

Cyn probably.

A suffocating wave of bitter smoke reached his nostrils and he turned to look at his mate, who had lightened the ciggie and was now sucking like he’d never smoked before.

“What do you care, anyway, Paul?” he repeated and looked down at his hands. He knew he cared. He cared about him.

“I care about Julian. We grew up with no mum, John… it’s the same without a father, isn’t it?” his face got lost inside the smoke swirling in front of his head.

“No, it’s not the same. I’m not gunna leave him. I’m not gunna stop being his father. It’s just I… I fell in love, you know”

“So, let see if I understood. You’re not gonna live with him and you’re not gonna play with him and you’re not gonna…”

“Ok, ok. I get it!”

“See what I mean?”

He knew what his mate meant, but he didn’t want to leave the love of his life now he had found the right person.

“What if I tell you I don’t give a fucking shit?”

“I’ll know you’re just being yourself, John”

“She’ll know how to handle…”

“Did you know how to handle the loss of your father, John? Or the loss of your mother?”

No. Fucking hell. No.

“No! But I had to do it and nobody asked me! You’re supposed to help me! Damn!”

“No, I’m not”

“Will you stop being so fucking stubborn?”

Paul sighed.

“You know me, John”

That was it.

“Yes, I do. And that’s why I know you’re gonna give up, Macca. Because you love me”

Paul’s eyes looked at the floor, ashamed maybe. He didn’t know. It was true. The younger man grimaced and John knew it was the end of it. He’ll surrender.

“Yeah” Paul said quietly, sucking hard on his cigarette. Then he sighed and looked up at John. “Yeah, I do. It’s just… I don’t want to be part of something so… evil, John”

“You’re already part of it, son. You’ve been part of it since the night we…” No, we didn’t fuck “we made love.”

Paul sighed again and combed his hair with his hand, then he held John’s stare and walked straight to him, like a cat, moving his hips, trying to catch his whole attention, being just him, so damn sexy. He leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, softly at first and then roughly, eating his lips and tongue. After a minute he pulled away, but he kept his hands on John’s chest, looking at him tenderly.

“See what I mean?” John said looking back at his big hazel eyes.

“Yeah”

“I love you, too, you idiot”

And he kissed him back.

“Well… I suppose I can’t do anything about it. I was thinking about writing a song for him, though”

“Always so soft, dear Paulie” John laughed and cupped Paul’s butt.

“Title?”

“Nice ass, Mr. McCartney”

He ignored the compliment. How he loved the child! Just as if he was his own son.

“Hey, John. Stop it!” Paul grabbed John’s hand in his own “Listen to me…What about, ‘Hey, Jules’?”

FIN

Roadie's POV

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 03:40:03 GMT

This is a bit different. Mal's POV ;)

Title: Even Though
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/P
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened
A/N: Good Mal gives us his opinion

Even Though

I never said a word about it and, well… I’ve never been against queers, homosexual people, man and man. Brian was homosexual and nobody ever had a problem with that. But, sincerely, I didn’t (and I don’t) think they were that. I mean, they still shagged girls, they were still those manly stars making them scream and faint in concerts and, you know… whatever those birds did by then.

Now I really understand it. They just loved each other, they needed each other, because they’d never been in a life where the other wasn’t there, of course without taking into account their first years, but, maybe it wasn’t necessary at that period. Maybe they appeared in the scenario of their adolescence at the right moment, as the story recalls.

Perhaps, they’d done that before. I just heard one night. I didn’t want to, didn’t mean to, really, but I did and I had to handle that memory for many years. In the end, it became just routine for me, but that night I was shocked when I heard a bed cracking, moans, whispers, and their names. John. Paul. I even heard the word “love” between groans.
No girls’ voices. Only theirs. It was when I thought that the arrangements for the next concert could wait until the next day.

Many things became clear. And, although I couldn’t get used to it at the beginning, later it seemed natural, almost obvious. They were Lennon and McCartney, weren’t they?
I didn’t say a word. Sometimes I just glanced at them together in hotel rooms or dressing rooms, wanting them to know that I knew everything, but my body language isn’t as good as I thought. I was just a roadie, really. Good Mal. It wasn’t really important if I knew about the two of them, as long as the instruments were there for every concert and they were comfortable in a suite or a room in the middle of that 60’s madness.

Now they’re here, in the studio. Abbey Road, full of memories. But now they yell, sometimes they don’t talk, they keep silent, and since a lonely night years ago I haven’t heard anything else in the silence of their privacy.

Lennon/McCartney. They’ve even talked about a ‘divorce’. They’re breaking up. And, even though I see a blonde American sitting next to Paul and a futile black haired mysterious Japanese looking at John, sitting shamelessly on an amp, I still see love in their eyes.

I just don’t know why they’re doing this. And I can’t believe it.

FIN

Please, leave comments!

Fanfic Time!

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 18:37:48 GMT

Hope you like it! :)

Title: Real Love
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Pairing: J/P
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened
A/N: Rather sweet and angsty ;)

Real Love

1966

He couldn’t bear that crap anymore. It was just… Christ. He couldn’t anymore. The fear of being attacked, maybe shot, the screams deafening him, the fucking crazy girls pulling his clothes, crying his name once, twice, until it lost meaning and he forgot who he really was. They didn’t even know him. None of those fucking potty girls knew him. They just stared at his picture in the magazines and dreamt about him and wished one day they could marry him.

I love you Paul! What in the fucking hell was that? How could they love him?

“They don’t even know me” he said gloomily to himself, observing his empty glass of rum and coke, staring at the shine it gave against the dim light of the bar. It was so beautiful, so transparent. He pressed his hand against it, hard, gathering all his strength and closing his eyes, gritting his teeth.

“Paul?”

“They don’t know me, so they can’t love me” he muttered to himself again turning his head around to look at someone who walked towards him.

Maybe who knew him better could love him. Who knew him best.

“Where were you?” George’s voice arrived at his ears like a faraway mist. After seconds of silence, it seemed that his friend had noticed his condition “You’re pissed, Paul.”

“No, don’t think so, Geo. I just drank…” Shit. He had lost count.

“Too much”

“Yeah” Paul said and giggled stupidly, before standing up.

“Hey, mate, watch out!” George warned him when he stumbled and almost collapsed over his younger friend.

“I’m fine” he slurred and grabbed George’s arm, looking for the balance he had lost some hours ago.

“Yeah, sure. Come on, you cunt. Let’s go to the suite. This place closed hours ago and you look fucking pathetic drinking here alone”

“Pathetic” he giggled again “yeah…”

“Anyway, why are you drinking alone, Paul? I thought we were having a good time in the suite up there.” George asked, somewhat worried “You’re nuts, you know? What if a bird finds you here alone?”

Paul, still held by George, looked up into his eyes and his drunk stare made Harrison’s heart jump inside his chest. They were sad, filled with sorrow, and someway bigger and brighter than usual.

“Paul, are you ok?”

“I just wanted to be alone, is all” his voice was funny, somewhat lost and nasal, dragging every word with difficulty. After a moment of silence, he realised he should say something else, and in his drunk state, he explained his statement with the first thing his brain could manage to think “I miss Jane”

George frowned after hearing Paul’s confession and grabbed his arm to lead him to the hall, and then the elevator.

“Sure. I miss Pattie, too”

“You think I’m lying, don’t you?” the sound of every “ding” in every damn floor the elevator reached was giving Paul a headache. When was the bleeding elevator going to arrive at their floor? “Fuck. You think I’m lying and you don’t believe me, Geo”

“I don’t thi…”

“Well. Yeah. Well. I’m lying”

Paul leaned against the elevator’s wall and closed his eyes, feeling the little lurches the machine made and trying to put his thoughts in order. He was so pissed.

“So what’s the truth?” George asked. Paul could be incredibly honest when he got drunk and he knew it, so he was going to discover what the hell was going on with his friend.

Paul’s hand was still around George’s arm. Paul pressed his fingers over the soft shirt the younger man was wearing and opened his unfocused drunk eyes to look at his friend, meaning to be sincere.

“It’s just anybody loves me anymore. Except for my Da, I think. And I’m not sure about Mike, but… we’re not in Liverpool now, you know?”

The door of the elevator opened and George, assuming Paul’s balance had transformed into nothing, put his arm under his mate’s shoulders and led him to the cozy hallway of the 15th floor.

He had felt that, too. Actually, not that exactly, but he had felt lonely too, in the middle of those exhaustive tours which were a fucking nightmare by now. However, he had never reached the point to say ‘nobody loves me’. George blamed the booze and maybe the pot (although, he wasn’t sure about the latter) and he flew off more serious ideas about the situation.

“What about Jane, Paul? She loves you”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” Paul sang, drunkenly, yet on tune. Then he chuckled and began singing some weird tune. He stopped, hiccupped and managed to say “Nice place” looking at his surroundings and giggling again, almost stumbling on the carpet.

“Yes, like every fucking hotel in the world, Paul” George responded with acid tone and turned his head to look at his friend one more time, but he was staring at the floor, apparently looking at his feet and at how clumsy they made their way to the hotel suite. However, his eyes, without a doubt, were sad. Deeply sad. “But it’s nice if you see good things in here, Paul” George stupidly tried to repair the damage of his comment. If Paul felt lonely and tired of all that touring shit that wasn’t the best comment to try to cheer him up, even less if he was drunk as hell.

“What good things?”

“Forget it. We better go to bed, you wanker. We’ve got to get up early tomorrow. You’ll regret about this, you know?”

Enough for that night. Paul would sleep, then he’d have a hangover the next day and everything about the incident in the bar of the hotel would be forgotten. That was what himself did, anyway, so that could help his friend in some way. He couldn’t do more than that, like giving an advice, for example, because he didn’t know what else to do when that feeling hit him, either.

“Why? Another fucking concert? Another fucking press conference? Another…” Paul stopped his irate words. When George looked at him, he could only see his big brown eyes widen in a desperate worried look, he then put his hand over his mouth and that was all George needed to realise what was about to happen.

“Hey, hey, hold on. We’re almost there” George said, holding Paul, walking faster and fearing Paul’s dinner could end up all over the carpet under their feet.

As soon as George opened the door, Paul, forgetting about his lack of balance, managed to run straight to the room he shared with Ringo, passing by him and John, who were sitting in the main room, both with glasses in their hands. The muffled sound of the TV made the scene even more inviting, but for Paul, the most inviting place at that moment was the bathroom.

“What the hell…?” John began to ask, leaving his glass on the coffee table next to him, after Paul disappeared inside the room. As they heard the bathroom door being slammed, John turned his face to George. “What happened?”

“I found him in the bar, pissed like hell”

A retching could be heard from the other side of the room and John grimaced.

“Stupid git. Nice time to get pissed now we have a concert tomorrow”

“Well, he’ll definitely won’t look like the cute one in the morning” Ringo added, taking a last sip from his glass and sighed.

George kept silent for a second and wondered if he should tell the others about the emotional state of his friend. Paul wouldn’t want the others to think he was soft or anything, but, on the other side, he was worried.

“He said something about nobody caring about him”

“That’s what every drunk says, George” John said, looking at the TV for a few seconds ad then looking back at his mate.

George sighed.

“But this time… well, it sounded real”

John squinted at George and they heard another retching coming from the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll go talk to him” John stood up, noticing what his younger friend meant with those words and walked towards the door of the room, trying to avoid George’s thankful stare.

When it was about Paul and his feelings, John was the best in taking care of that.

***

“I see you didn’t have time to lock the door” John said, standing in the threshold of the bathroom and looking down to a wrecked Paul, kneeling down in front of the loo.

“Fuck off” Another retching obliged him to face the white device instead of John’s face. He grabbed the lid of the loo until his knuckles turned white.

“Hey, mate” John kneeled beside Paul. His voice sounded weird, unusually caring and soothing “Are you ok?”

“Yeah…” Paul flushed the toilet and turned his head to John “I just drank a… a little too much”. He looked rather pale and sweaty. He sighed, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, leaned against the wall of the tiny well decorated bathroom and closed his eyes, sighing again.

“And why’s that, Macca? I mean, you could have drink a little too much here with us”

“Wanted to be alone” he was still slurring the words slowly, the alcohol still having an effect on him. He tried to stand up, holding on the sink and took his toothbrush. After putting some toothpaste on it, he brushed his teeth slowly. John observed him from the floor, sitting against the wall during all the process, thinking about how to discuss the reason of Paul’s weird behavior. He sighed.

“Hey, Macca. You know… I…” God. All that sentimental crap wasn’t for him. He barely talked to people like that, unless he was drunk, of course. He remembered the conversation he had with Paul years ago about the loss of their mothers. They cried together, they held each other and suddenly, the next day was all forgotten. Yeah… I can’t remember, I was so drunk, but both remembered every detail. At least John did, but he was sure Paul did, too.

Paul rinsed his mouth and then he dried it with the sleeve of his shirt.

John didn’t have to continue speaking. Paul spoke first, and the tone of his shaky drunken voice scared the hell out of John.

“…lonely” was all John could hear, the first words were muffled by his clumsy hands, wiping the sudden little tears which had formed in his eyes. John would mock him, he’d say he was soft and he didn’t need that shit at that moment.

He’s just too pissed

“Macca” John stood up and kept silent for a moment, looking at Paul, who was now looking at the opposite wall, still wiping something from his cheeks “You feel lonely?”

“Fuck! That’s what I fucking said, you fucking cunt!” Paul yelled, losing control, slurring the words, losing his balance and falling to the floor on his butt. The images were blurred and they tossed and turned in front of his eyes.

John, as usual, would have reacted impulsively and a hurtful comment would have escaped his lips, but it didn’t and he kneeled again, beside Paul, looking at him. Honestly, he didn’t know what to do, what to say. Paul always seemed to be so happy, so strong, mister PR, mister perfection.

He just placed a hand on his shoulder.

Paul felt that hand and couldn’t hold it anymore. More tears slid over his chubby cheeks and he looked at John.

His thick eyelashes were wet and his eyes bright and vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t drink like this anymore, Macca. You look like a fucking…”

Paul’s lips fell heavily upon John’s, violently and suddenly, John found himself closing his eyes and receiving the kiss, kissing back.

The kiss was rough and passionate, Paul grabbed John’s face as if it was the last thing he’d touch in his life and dropped his weight over his friend until he was on top of him.
Paul opened his mouth and touched John’s lips with his tongue, however John pulled away, only turning his head to the side and leaving Paul’s lips upon his cheek.

They stayed like that for a moment, in silence, but breathing fast and irregularly.

“I’m so d-drunk, John” against John’s face.

“Fucking hell, Paul” John looked into Paul’s eyes and they did one more time what they’d always done since they were teenagers. They lost into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t that different this time, they made the same connection, probably thinking the same. John, as always, engrossed in how different and unusual Paul’s eyes were, so big, long eyelashes, the color wasn’t the same each time he looked at them, but, at the moment, the hazel had a trace of green, and the shape; his eyes always seemed to be sad, the edges suddenly falling.

This time, John lost his mind and kissed Paul, but now, after the real connection they’d made, slowly and tenderly.

He loved Paul. He didn’t really know how. He’d been a brother to him, and now, he was some kind of a lover, but he loved him, no doubt.

John’s hands caressed Paul’s back, still feeling the cold tiles on his back, and he dared to slide them down, until he touched his butt. Paul didn’t seem to care and let out a soft gasp against John’s lips. Paul reached for John’s crotch and he stroked over the fabric until his bandmate moaned desperately.

“So horny” Paul said drunkenly and unbuttoned John’s shirt, kissing him on the lips.
After a few minutes, their bodies were touching; their chests were touching, naked “I love you” Paul said between moans. But John didn’t say anything, he just kept kissing and touching and rubbing his hard dick against Paul’s “I love you” he repeated.

Paul pulled away, leaving John alone, lying on the floor, and heading for the gap between the sink and the wall of the bathroom. He sat and looked at John with an intent, serious, sad stare.

“What… what the…?” John said, sitting up and looking back, disconcerted.

“I need more, John”

“What?”

“N-need more” Paul hiccupped “I said I love you”

John frowned. What the hell had happened?

“And you said nothing”

“Well, it’s hard to speak when you’re busy kissing someone else’s chest”

“And you said nothing” Paul repeated “And I’m so pissed, hell”

John sighed and finally understood. He stood up, noticing his and Paul’s nakedness. Well, nothing he hadn’t seen before, yet it seemed to be so different now, so appealing. He sat next to Paul, the touch of his bare skin making him tremble, and he embraced him tight. That wasn’t him, but he didn’t fucking care, it just felt that way and that approach was the result. He wasn’t even surprised when Paul began to cry in his shoulder. It felt like nothing could separate them and things like the male pride and, of course, clothes were left behind. It was just the two of them, sitting alone on the bathroom floor, holding each other, naked.

“You know I love you, too, Paul”

Paul continued sobbing, but soon the crying began to fade away and left place for sweet, wet kisses on John’s bare shoulder and neck.

“I love you”

“And I love you, too”

When the kisses became weaker and John could only feel the warm breath on his skin he realized Paul was falling asleep.

“Well, I see you can’t mix sex and drink, Paulie”

“Mmmh”

“Hey, don’t fall asleep, jerk. I can’t carry you to the bed”

“Yes, you can” Paul mumbled and made himself comfortable in John’s chest.

John laughed. It was all a crazy thing, a fucking madness, but it felt good.

“You’re gonna regret about this in the morning” Paul heard John say. Someone had said that before that night, though he didn’t remember who it was.

“No, I’m not” and he looked into John’s eyes one more time “Believe me” he giggled and rested his head again on John’s chest “Well, maybe I’ll regret about the booze”

FIN

Leave comments! Let me know what you think! ;)

Sex and drunkenness

Sun, 28 Jan 2007 18:24:56 GMT

Hi guys! I'm back and I bring you this new fic. I tell you: It's not that angsty. Maybe it isn't at all. Dunno, hehe. I hope you like!

Title: This Is My Bed
Rating: NC-17!!!
Pairing: J/P!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened (buh!)
A/N: Little bit of vouyerism and a drunk sexy man XD

This Is My Bed

Nobody really knows how Paul McCartney behaves when there’s nobody around him and, however strange it may sound, not even John knew the whole thing about it. He knew Paul (and Macca was a very complex person), but knowing him implied that he had to realize he’s not the human being he actually wants to be. He appears to be so strong and optimistic; he’s always been like that. Always. He knew him like that that first day, all chubby and perfect and smiling. But Paul hid a lot of things inside him and John was almost sure he was the only one who had ever reached a little bit of those secrets.

He didn’t really know what the hell had been happening lately. Paul had lost the touch and, although John usually got tired of his bleeding insufferable and stressful mood, he was beginning to miss the optimism and enthusiasm he radiated. Yeah… he was beginning to miss Paul.

“Are you alright?” Ringo asked and it broke John’s concentration for a second. Who was he asking that to?

When he saw Paul’s face John knew immediately who Ringo was talking to. Jesus. He looked terrible. Fucking terrible. He was standing near to the big window of the hotel suite, holding a cigarette between his fingers. That must have been the eleventh that night.

“Wha?” he turned around to look at Ringo and George nudged John in the ribs. Then he made a grimace and a movement with his uncombed head to look at Paul.

“You look bad, mate. Something wrong?” Lennon asked, not wanting to involve himself too much in the problem, leaving him alone, as he would have wanted if he had been in his place. And because he always avoided involve himself in the sentiments of other people.

“Nah, just had an argument with Jane, is all”

John knew that something was wrong with him. He was his fucking partner! He’d to know when was bad, or sad, or excited or happy, or… anything. But at that moment, besides knowing he had some kind of problem, John didn’t know anything else.

“I’m going to bed” Paul announced, put out the cigarette of his full lips, placed it in the cramfull ashtray and he smiled falsely to the left Beatles. He couldn’t even get a McCartney smile.

The door closed and the other three were left alone with the glasses full of rum and coke in their hands and the cigarettes in their mouths. Something was wrong and nobody had been fucking brave enough to talk about it.

“Hey, don’t you think he’s been a little bit… upset recently?” George asked and John made an effort to avoid punching him in the face.

“Yeah, yeah” Lennon responded in that sarcastic tone of his “And George, don’t you think we’re missing time asking ourselves that?”

Nobody answered.

“Of course he’s been acting weird” John wanted to explode. When it was about Paul he always got like that. He knew he was really fond of the guy.

“Why don’t you go and check what’s going on in there?” Ringo suggested, with a painful expression “You know how he gets when it’s about Jane”

This time, John didn’t really know who Ringo was talking to. Maybe him, maybe George, maybe the two of them. Everybody, but himself.

Nobody took any fucking resolution. And they kept drinking and making efforts to enjoy their free night, forgetting about Paul, or at least, trying to.

It was three fifteen in the morning and they looked like shit, all unkempt and lying over the sofas of the suite, pissed like hell.

“Fuck” John moaned, waking, touching his head and trying to focus his eyes on something. George was lying on his stomach with a bottle in his hand and Ringo didn’t seem to have problems to sleep in the awkward position he had adopted “Fucking hell, Rings. Do something about that snoring”

Suddenly, he remembered Paul and the last night and he knew it was his obligation to go and check on him.

He was prepared to enter the room and say ‘Fuck Jane and come here to have a drink’, believing that the party wasn’t over, and, as if by magic, he had forgotten about it all. But a whimper made him stop and he leaned his back on the wall to keep balance of his body.

“Yes…” John heard him say and a second whimper made him realize what he was doing

“Oh, dirty boy” John giggled stupidly, but then he heard his name.

His own name.

Christ.

“John…” Paul repeated and in John’s drunken condition he could still assimilate what the hell was going on, unfortunately.

The guitarist kept silent and Paul’s moans, the sound of him jerking off, his irregular breathing and the image in his head aroused him. He obviously had fantasized about him more than once, but that situation was more than he had expected.

John felt his hard-on growing inside his pants. And God. I felt fucking natural, as if some bird was trying to catch his attention, moaning his name. That always worked with him.

“Oh…” Paul moaned deeper this time and, strangely, John felt something like a jump in his underwear and a sticky sensation between his legs.

“Shit…” he was getting very aroused, sickly aroused and it wasn’t good. Yeah, it felt natural, but, no, it wasn’t.

He was drunk. And high. And horny.

What the hell…?

John entered the room and what he saw (even though he had seen it a lot of times before, while jerking off with Paul in his room, door locked and the fear of a parent coming and catching them in the middle of their teen act) drove him crazy and he realized Paul was lying on the bed. There and asleep.

He approached the bed, silent and clumsy. Everything swirled around him, except Paul who was clear in front of his sore eyes.

There. Asleep, dreaming, unzipped trousers and the read head of a wet cock sticking out.

“Yes…” Paul repeated.

John blamed the booze and the pot, but, honestly, he was horny just because of Paul. After all, the last stupid teenager’s magazine had ‘Everybody loves Macca’ as a headline. And he loved him, yes. He had always had. As a friend. As a brother. But now… he would have loved to fuck him.

A man, God. And his friend, but…

John didn’t waste more time on his mixed sick thoughts and… actually, he quit thinking.

Paul’s hand was dangerously touching his own dick and John, slowly, slipped his own along Paul’s leg and replaced it. The warmth of Paul’s skin and the sticky sensation were the cause of his next action. He freed his own cock, quickly, almost desperately and began jerking off, wanking, hard and fast, moaning shamelessly, while his other hand took care of Paul’s erection, releasing more precum and responding to the movements applied by John’s hand.

John forgot that they both were men and… he forgot everything, really. He just kept whimpering until the intelligible whispers turned into aroused words.

“Paul, oh, yeah. Paul!"

He came hard and pleasantly, while his body shivered from the effects of the orgasm. He was sitting on the floor, next to the bed and grabbed the sheets to keep quiet and not to shout Paul’s name again.

“Jesus… oh…” he gasped swallowing and checking on Paul. Still asleep. And yeah. He was still drunk.

It was done. He stood up as quietly as his movements let him and walked towards the door of the room, leaving Paul behind, tangled between the white sheets and unaware of everything.

Had Paul come? God, he hadn’t even noticed. He was so high. He hardly made an effort to check his hand. Nope. No cum there, just the other well-known liquid in his fingers.

He sighed, worn out, and reached the doorknob to leave the room and preparing himself to file that experience in his brain where ‘crazy sexual situations’ were located.

“You’re not very cautious, are you?” Paul’s drowsy voice startled him and he almost stumbled, frightened and suddenly ashamed.

“What?” John turned to see Paul’s face. The younger man’s cock was still hard and his face flushed.

“I can’t believe you did that”

“Jesus, Paul. I’m…”

“Drunk”

There was a silence and John tried to look for some words to excuse himself, but he wasn’t thinking right.

“Yeah. I know, John” he continued “And that’s the worst thing about this”

“What?” John slurred again and he suddenly felt the mad need to roar with laughter.

“You’re too pissed. Get out”

“No, no. Wanna know”

Paul made a grimace and combed his hair with his right hand, the other one was probably still wet.

“All you need to know is that I was jerking off and moaning your name. Isn’t that enough?”

“Uhm… no”

“Shit, you’re high, John. Maybe in the morning you’re be able to understand what I’m saying. Get out of here and go to bed” Paul’s face was still flushed and John could see the uncomfortableness and shame he was experiencing. God, he was really embarrassed.

“That is my bed” John said, pointing at the bed beside Paul’s.

“Well, go to sleep then”

“Shit, I can’t walk straight, Paul” he let out a stupid laugh and then he made and effort to reach the bed, but the wrong one.

“John, that is your bed” Paul said, pointing at the other bed in the room as John had done seconds ago.

“I know” he leaned over Paul’s face and whispered softly “But I don’t wanna sleep there, Paulie” and he kissed him. Paul grabbed John’s arms trying to pull away, but, slowly, he gave up, enjoying and letting John’s tongue enter his mouth.

John broke the kiss.

“I’m drunk, but I know you love me” and he grinned stupidly.

Paul said nothing, just kept looking into John’s eyes intently and kissed him again.

“Wanna fuck” John said, breaking the kiss again and slipping his hand to reach Paul’s hard dick.

“What a gentleman” Paul said and then his stare turned serious and deep “I don’t want to do this if you’re fucking drunk, Lennon”

“Hey, don’t be such a pansy, Paulie…” John’s smile was ridiculous and his eyes were somewhat unfocused, but this time that wasn’t funny at all “Come ooon…”

Yes, that was getting weird, unnatural, frightening and completely unusual in their Beatle lives.

“Don’t you see I wanna fuck, too?” Paul reached for his fly and zipped his pants, trying to hide the hard-on and look reasonable and prudent, but John’s trembling hand (maybe for all the alcohol he had ingested) stopped him, took his hand in his own and tangled their fingers with such delicacy and tenderness that Paul stuttered before he could mumble something “What are you doing?”

“I’m pissed like hell, Paul, but… I really wanna fuck”

That hurt. Pissed, high, whatever. It was hurting him.

“Get the hell outta here, Lennon”

He wasn’t going to understand him. It wasn’t just a fuck. He wasn’t going to be fucked by the ass and then pretend that nothing had happened. Jesus. It wasn’t just a fuck. It wasn’t.

“No, I sleep here, too, you know” slurred John and giggled like a little school girl.

“Yeah, but not in this bed”

John lay beside Paul and made himself comfortable, ignoring every word Paul was saying.

“Lennon, go to your bed”

“This is my bed”

“No! This is my bed! Fucking hell!”

Yes. Pretend to be calm, pretend this is one of those strange situations which then are remembered after getting pissed.

But it fucking isn’t

John leaned over his side and looked into Paul’s eyes, smiling almost tenderly, and grabbed his hand.

“Do you want me?”

It was enough.

“John, stop it”

“I know you do. You’re a little dirty bird who wants to be fucked” he hiccupped “by the great sexy John Lennon and…”

“It’s enough! Damn! It isn’t just sex!” Paul’s face was hurt and his sad eyes looked even sadder now. John could almost tell they were wet “This isn’t just sex” he repeated in a lower voice “We’re friends, we can’t do this. It’s just… I want to…”

Hell. What else to say? Maybe that’s how the birds felt when he pulled them and dumped them in the morning, not caring about any telephone number or even the name of the lucky winner. Now he didn’t want to be used, just like them.

John cleared his throat and took Paul’s face in his hands. The next seconds were an eternity.

“Who said… it was just sex?” his stare was sincere and… sweet. John kissed him and Paul thought this time the taste of the alcohol was clearly present in his partner’s tongue. His own lips were soon wet with the mixture of pot, scotch and something else Paul couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just John’s taste.

Their clothes fell to the floor, forgotten and crumpled. Some of them, wet.

And things were fast and desperate.

“Oh, yes…” Paul buried his head in the pillow in front of him when John, standing behind him, entered him and began a slow rhythm.

“Fuck…”

It was the first time and it was John. He could feel his dick moving and touching the spot that made him scream.

“Fucking hell, John. Oh… oh… Harder…”

The wood of the bed began to creak and Paul lost control. He grabbed his own erection and jerked off, following John’s pace.

“Let me… let me do that” John said between moans and speeding up the rhythm.

“God, God… Yeah… yes… John”

“Oh, Paul!”

John came first and then Paul, who was really concerned about the noises they were making and moaned John’s name in the soft pillow he had grasped all the time.

“Jesus…”

Paul pulled the sheet over them and moved a little bit uncomfortable, not knowing what to say.

“You’re gonna have a shitty hangover tomorrow, John”

“It is tomorrow, Macca”

And then they kept silent for a moment, savouring the warmth and the welcoming atmosphere surrounding them.

“Are you still drunk?”

“You said I was going to have a hangover tomorrow. I told you it is tomorrow…”

“I get it” and Paul sighed “Uhm… John… I’m… I’m gonna sleep. I’m buggered”

“Don’t you wanna talk about… it?”

“Are you gonna be like one of those talkers birds I pull sometimes?”

“Perhaps…” John responded with a high-pitched voice, batting his eyelashes coyly.

“Piss off”

“Well, fine” John turned his back on Paul and wrapped himself up “You’re a jerk, Macca” he yawned and cleared his throat for his next words to be clearly heard “Who said it was just sex, anyway?”

THE END!

Please leave comments! They're very important to me! ;)

Mon, 08 Jan 2007 23:39:17 GMT

Hope you like! ;)

Title: Forgive Me (Part 2 of 2)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/P!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened

Forgive Me II

“He’s suffered a lot of considerable contusions and a big blow in his head which could have caused some grave damages. He broke his left arm and he suffered a sprain in his right foot. That’s all. We had to give him a strong tranquillizer because of the state he was in; he seemed to reject our efforts to do something for his health. If he had been driving at high speed he’d probably be dead, but it was nothing. You’ve got nothing to worry about. He was a lucky boy.”

The doctor’s words repeated themselves over and over inside his head and John only could think that the fucking grave damage in Paul’s head, the bruises, the broken arm an his nervous condition were all his fault. Everything.

“What happened to George and Ringo?” John dared to ask his manager who hadn’t talked since they had left the street hours ago.

“They wanted to come with us, but the person in charge didn’t let them. And,, besides… I wanted to talk to you, John… in private”

“Well, what is it?”

Listening to what Brian had to say wasn’t the best plan at that moment. He thought he wouldn’t hear a word… until the older man spoke.

“What is happening between you and Paul? I mean, you’ve been having arguments every single day”

“Well, I can’t really say he argue everyday, Eppy”

“John” Brian’s well known nervous smile made its apparition, and for the first time, it scared the hell out of John” I’ve noticed things”

John’s heartbeat increased its speed. What the hell was he talking about? He didn’t have too much time to wonder about it. Brian got to the point immediately.

“Do… do you have feelings for Paul?” Brian’s voice was somewhat lower than usual, kind of sad.

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about, John” nervousness and embarrassment could be read in the man’s eyes “Are you… like…?”

Sometimes he had asked that question himself. Was he like Brian? He certainly had had fantasies about other men, but he realized it had always been he and Paul… And only Paul.

“All I know is I…” What the hell was he doing? “I love him”

And even though that could only imply brother’s love, Brian knew. He knew well.

* * *

The corridor was dark and gloomy, almost scary, but everybody was sleeping and only a couple of nurses were on duty at that hour, so he could easily slip through the hallways to Paul’s room. He didn’t even knock at the door. He was probably under sedation and sleeping like a baby, nevertheless, when he closed the door behind his back a voice in the night startled him and he almost stumbled in the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” this time the words had the appropriate tone and John felt a shiver cross his spine.

“I thought I had already told you…”

“All I can fucking remember is music being called ‘crap’, John”

John sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy. In the middle of the deep darkness he could still see Paul’s light skin and his immobilized arm resting on his chest.

“Can I turn on a light?”

“No”

“Why?”

Paul pretended not having heard him and, after wiping something off his face, he stretched out his right arm to reach the little lamp beside his bed, but just in vain. He moaned in pain when he was about to take the switch in his hand.

“I’ll do it for you”

“I don’t want you to do anything for me!” the effort Paul put in raising his voice tired him. He coughed and breathed in like he was desperate to get some air.

“I said I’m sorry… Macca” John walked towards the bedside table and switched on the light.

And what he saw didn’t allow him to continue. Paul had tears in his eyes. Big tears running from his eyes and dying on his chin. He didn’t want to look at John and the embarrassment didn’t let him raise his head and confront him again.

“Paul…”

“What? Are you gonna say I’m ‘crap’, too? That I’m a fucking crybaby who has ‘lost the touch’?”

If he only knew how John was feeling about all that.

“No, I’m not”

“Well” Paul said, wiping his tears with the white coat he was wearing and, suddenly, facing John “What are you doing here then? If you apologize again you’d be losing your time”

Paul had guessed brilliantly. He was going to apologize. John didn’t have another chance than talk about something else. Anything.

“George and Ringo are worried. They came to see you but…”

“I already know that. I know that they always care for me…” that sounded like a reproach, a complaint, and John knew what Paul meant with those words.

“I do care for you, too, Paul”

The younger man looked down at his good hand and John could see another tear falling, smashing against the sheet.

“Have you ever asked yourself why everything you say to me affects me so much? Until I reach this point, when I want to go home, grab a bottle and get fucking pissed. Do you know how many times I’ve done that, John?” He smoothed the blankets and trembled a little, but he went on “Have… have you ever asked yourself how many times I’ve gotten pissed because of you? And how many times I’ve had to wake up the next morning and I’ve had to run to the bathroom to throw up because of the hangover? Have you ever asked how my relationship with Jane is a fucking mess… just because of you?”

“No”

It was simple. The answer was ‘no’. A short, cold, simple ‘no’, which hurt as much as a whole row of insults.

John couldn’t think. Paul was looking just the way he didn’t want to look in front of John. Vulnerable and miserable. John approached the bed, took Paul’s head in his hands and looked him straight into his sad hazel eyes.

“Do you remember how many times have we done this? Look into each other’s eyes?”

“No”

And a heavy silence fell upon their heads. Paul didn’t pull away and he seemed to be enjoying the calm between them, the silence, the unspoken communication they had always shared since they were teenagers in Liverpool. Everything had changed, their faces, their bodies and their souls, but to look at each other like that was like getting back something important that had been forgotten in the past. It was almost a reverie, which was only broken by a kiss, a gentle kiss from John and a sweet caress in the cheek that made Paul whimper against the other man’s lips. The room was still in semi-darkness and the silhouettes on the wall were like a mirror to their insecure actions.

Millions of thoughts crossed John’s head, but the only one that really mattered was about the feelings he had been trying to hide all that time, without even knowing it.

Paul’s right hand grabbed the blankets, suppressing something John didn’t really know, and he broke the kiss, keeping still, and inches from Paul’s face.

“What are you doing?” Paul asked in a whisper with his eyes closed, which were still somewhat wet and swollen.

“It’s a kind of answer… I actually know the answer to your question, mate”

“What is it then?”

“That you love me, Macca?” he swallowed “And I love you, too”

Paul opened his eyes and didn’t look surprised at all. His expression was confused and maybe lost, but not surprised. And from the few centimeters that separated their faces, John could see how tired Paul actually was and how sad his brown eyes looked.

“And why all that shit, John? Why all that bullshit you say to me?” they were whispering, not pulling away from each other and knowing that there wasn’t need of louder words.

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t, Paul” sincerity was the best answer.

The silence surrounded them like a dark sheet of calm. As if by magic, things had become clear between the two of them, and Paul, who was always looking for answers, was pleased with John’s response. He just didn’t know.

Suddenly, Paul raised his head and looked into John’s eyes.

“I’m tired, mate. I’m not feeling good, you know”

“That means you forgave me?”

Paul made himself comfortable in the bed and combed his hair with his good hand, looking at John and smiling sincerely.

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t, John”

And John knew exactly what he meant.

The End

Leave comments, please! :)

Somethin' I had in my mind

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 08:15:03 GMT

Hey, guys!
The other day I was thinking about the rumour of Paul's death and the car accident and all that stuff, so this idea came to my mind. Here you have this new fic (I warn you: it's not happy. Angsty again with lots of 'Paul in pain') that I hope you like. It's not based in any real facts and it's only a product of my twisted mind XD
Enjoy!

Title: Forgive Me (Part 1 of 2)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/P!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened

Forgive Me

“It’s just crap, you know. It has always been shit, Macca”

It was almost dawn and they had worked in the record the whole night. The look on Ringo’s face was terribly lost, somewhere between the drumsticks in his hand and the cymbal in front of him. He just didn’t remember when things had become so shitty in the band. All glimmer of friendship had disappeared and he was scared at the possibility of never getting it back.

“And you think your shit is better, Lennon? I’d rather say you’re losing the touch”

Paul had never been so acid or sarcastic, and it was weird to see him like that, flushed with anger, fists clenched and, strangely, with a dead look in his eyes. The tension had grown until it had reached unattainable levels and, at that moment, Ringo gave up his efforts of trying to convince himself of a lie. They were never going to be the same.

“At least I had a touch, Paul”

The phrase wasn’t as hurtful as others John could use with Paul. Sometimes he just left him dumb, with nothing to say in return and with a surprised hurt expression on his face. This time wasn’t one of those moments, though, however, Paul couldn’t take it anymore.

He just closed his eyes, swallowed and walked straight towards the door of the studio, taking his jacket and his bass case in the process. He slammed the door leaving a deathly silence in the room, broken only by the sweet sound of George’s sitar. He seemed to be in his own world of meditation, and for a moment, Ringo was eager to ask him to teach him how to leave reality behind.

“The fucking brat…” John’s voice was a harsh whisper, full of pain and wrath.

It was enough for that day. Enough.

“I’m going home” Ringo said, standing up and stretching his arms. As Paul had done, he took all his things and walked towards the exit “This is not working anymore, John. And you’re just making things worse”. He left.

George didn’t say a single word. He just put his guitar in the case, closed it and left John in the room, alone with his anger and his thoughts.

* * *

“Christ. I can’t believe he’s late”

“Yeah…” George only nodded and took his guitar, acting like a ghost and not really paying attention to what John was saying. Probably it was only another insult directed to Paul.

“You shouldn’t have talked to him like that last night”

“Don’t you see I don’t care about that anymore?” John’s voice was cold and haughty, making him look more imposing than usual. But behind all the image of strength, power and leadership, Ringo could see the insecure little boy John had always been.

“You should care, John. You should”

The afternoon was cold and silent, nobody talked and the three Beatles avoided making too much noise, which could break their state of useless meditation. The hours were like years and nobody dared to leave the place, not because they had the obligation to work (they had quit those sessions too many times to care right now), but because of Paul.

“It seems that Mister Perfection is not going to show up today” this time John’s voice expressed a hint of worry he didn’t try to hide.

Everybody knew it, but nobody said it, fearing that the words could beseech a reality.

“I’m gonna ring up to know what happened” Ringo said and left the room.

“I’ll go with you, Rings” George didn’t even look at the last Beatle in the room.

John just locked himself in the bathroom and waited. And waited. And waited… knowing that if something had happened to Paul, it was going to be his fault.

It was always his fault.

* * *

He heard a lot of voices inside his head, and they were driving him crazy. He heard Aunt Mimi’s voice and his mum’s voice and everybody’s voice and… he heard Paul’s. He could even imagine him in front of him, with his sad eyes, even sadder now they had lost the brightness. They’d always called his attention. How could they be so big and expressive and… revealing? Sometimes he felt he’d pay to have those eyes, but he concluded that he preferred they were Paul’s. He just loved to stare at them. Or at least he used to love it.

He heard noises coming from the other side, in the recording room, hurry steps and what it seemed to be the thud of a chair falling. He looked at his watch. It was late, five minutes to seven. He didn’t remember the time passing so quickly.

“John!” George’s voice startled John, who had forgotten the sound of his friend’s voice actually calling him “Fucking hell, John!”

‘What the hell…?’

“John!” this time it was Ringo’s voice. Then he heard more voices and, later on, George Martin talking to the drummer.

John exited the bathroom and everybody looked at him, ate him with their eyes.

“God, you’re there!” strangely, Ringo’s eyes looked weird, as if they lacked of something, like they had lost something important.

John didn’t know what to do or say, so he stood there waiting for someone to tell him what the hell was going on, but the persistent image of Paul suffering in some way wouldn’t leave him alone.

“We couldn’t find Paul, John”

“So?” even if he had wanted it, he wouldn’t have achieved a cold tone in his voice.

George Martin was there, beside George Harrison, looking intently at John, and John felt like he was punishing him through his light wise eyes.

“John, we don’t want to make you feel guilty, but… they found Paul’s car, not far from here. He… he seemed to be driving home. It just happened now… ” Ringo talked like he was talking to a child, caring every single word he pronounced.

“What happened now? And why do I have to feel guilty? He escaped like a coward, didn’t he? Why is that my fucking fault?”

“It is your fault, you fucking bastard!” George Harrison had reacted, at last, and what he said after all that time was just a bitter insult “The car is crashed, Lennon! ...and Paul was driving and…!”

Something turned off inside John’s head.

“What do you mean with that?”

Nobody said anything, not a single word, not even a noise could be heard and it became too much for them.

“Jesus! What the hell have you been doing here the last four fucking hours, John!” George seemed hurt, really hurt. Suddenly, Martin wasn’t there anymore. John looked for him with his eyes, but he wasn’t in the control room either.

“Oh, my God! Fuck! Where the hell is Paul? Where is he?”

The last thing John remembered was Ringo calling him back, before he left the room.

* * *

They were right. The car was awfully crashed, but he just wanted to know where Paul was. Jesus, if he would have known…

“Fuck you, Lennon. Fuck you!” he said to himself, grabbing the steering wheel with all the strength he could gather in that moment of desperation. He had stopped the car, but couldn’t get out and face the reality taking place in front of his eyes. Nobody had actually told him, but he knew well what had happened to Paul.

John closed his eyes and listened for a moment.

“God, isn’t that Paul McCartney’s car?” a sweet teenager’s voice arrived at his ears, it came from behind the car and it got lost in the crowd, with the rest of meddlesome people wanting to watch, wanting to see the condition of the famous Beatle.

John opened the door of the car and suppressed his longings for screaming. Was he still in there?

A familiar car parked a few meters from his, and Brian Epstein got out followed by Ringo and George. John would swear they were crying.

By that time, the car was burning, and the warm color of the flames fit perfectly with the colors of dusk.

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell is going on?” John asked himself once more.

Everybody knew it. Paul wasn’t there anymore. Suddenly, he disappeared, vanished for John, he wasn’t his Macca anymore. He felt George’s and Ringo’s presence beside him, felt their warmth and listened intently at Ringo’s sobs, he listened at the screams, shouts, the car crackling, burning, appearing to be the fearsome Hell in front of him, the noises of cars and his own incessant heartbeat. And he also heard a harsh voice which brought him back from his own death.

“He’s not in there anymore, sir. We took his body out of the car when we arrived. The people just don’t listen to us. They’re too shocked with the tragedy” a policeman said to Brian, and a breeze swirled between the three Beatles, as if, suddenly, they could breathe again.

“Where is he?” John suddenly found his own hands grabbing the collar of the policeman, desperate, scared “Where the fucking hell is Paul?”

“They’re taking care of…” but John didn’t let him finish and let go of him.

“Macca, Macca, Jesus, Macca… my Macca” he couldn’t hide his own tears and walked back and forth, everywhere, short long steps with his colorful shoes, head between his trembling hands.

“John…”

“I killed him… I did it. I killed Paul…”

“John, Paul’s not…” George’s voice came from an unknown place, far away from him. All he could hear was the crowd talking, filling his head with snippets of stupid conversations about his Paul.

“Mine… mine… mine”

Yes. He wasn’t dead, but John realized that he had killed the real Paul a long time ago. He was his assassin, the killer of the magic inside that man.
“If you wish…” the policeman said to Brian and the other two Beatles, scared off by John’s reaction and smoothing the collar of his white shirt. “If you wish we can take you there, he’s… he’s going to be taken to the hospital right now and he’s allowed to take only two people with him, so…”

“I’ll go. I must go with him” the guilt was eating him alive, making him feel dizzy and nauseating.

John didn’t even care who else was going with him, he just followed the hefty officer and looked for a trace of Paul everywhere he looked. His childish smile, the green jacket he had been wearing that day, his dark hair… as if suddenly Paul could appear safe and sound, walking in the pavement towards him.

What he really saw was a white ambulance, far from the place of the accident and two men sanding next to it, whispering to each other and holding some papers in their hands.

“We’re here. We can go now”

One of the men stared at the officer with a reproachful look. John pulled the handle of the heavy door. He knew Paul was inside, hurt, unconscious. However, when he looked inside he found two big eyes looking at him, tired, half lidded and bright.

He stepped inside the ambulance and sat beside Paul in a little stool next to his stretcher.

“Paul… I’m sorry” Paul’s head was bleeding (he could see the reddish liquid behind the patch on his forehead) and his hair was damp and dirty. The dark bags under his eyes scared John and the various scratches and scrapes over his infantile features made him moan with guilt. Paul only observed him, as if he knew something John didn’t, looking intently at his slanting eyes. He didn’t respond. “I’m sorry…”

“Why don’t you leave?” the question hit John like a shot in the head. “I don’t really want to see you” Paul’s tone was almost sweet. He seemed to be drugged, but still conscious of what was happening.

“I…”

Suddenly a male nurse entered the ambulance and smiled nicely at John.

“He was in a lot of pain. Now he’s under the effects of drugs”

“What did you give him? Painkillers?

The man didn’t answer. Brian Epstein entered the ambulance after a few minutes of awkward silence, while Paul looked with interest the ceiling of the car, with his eyes very lost and rarely unfocused.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, Mr. McCartney?” the male nurse said very politely while he injected a white liquid coming from a syringe into Paul’s vein.

Paul’s sore eyes began to close very slowly until he fell asleep.

“He was in a lot of pain” the male nurse repeated “He… he didn’t want us to take him to the hospital and… and he was very upset”

John could feel Brian’s eyes on him, drilling his head and reading his thoughts. Yes, he was the one and only guilty.

And he wished with all his heart it was him instead of Paul.

TO BE CONTINUED

Leave comments, please! :)

Hello guys!

Thu, 28 Dec 2006 20:40:13 GMT

Yay!!! Second chapter's ready! (Twice as long =D)

Title: To say It II
Rating: NC-17 (YAY!)
Pairing: J/P... duh!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and (unfortunately) this never happened

First Chapter: http://some-tea-4u.livejournal.com/8536.html#cutid1

To say It II

Maybe he doesn’t really know how predictable he can actually be.

Maybe his eyes are so big because they were made to express that special kind of emotions.

Maybe he was going to have a heart attack right there.

I didn’t know.

But his face told everything and at that precise moment gathered all the fears I had been trying to fight against. Why the fucking hell didn’t I think about the possibility of getting her pregnant? There wasn’t a fucking condom, she didn’t take any pills and I was so high. She should have thought about it… right?

Suddenly, I wanted to say something like ‘It’s not my fault, Paulie’. But it wasn’t hers either.

Hell.

“Oh” Fuck. His voice was frozen. The warm in it had disappeared and hadn’t left any spying of it.

And I remembered. He was Paul. A human being. He’s not the God he appears to be. He’s not as perfect as he wants to be, or at least, as he wants the people to see him.

As he wants ME to see him. And what I was seeing at that moment was terrible.

“Well…” I started to say, not really meaning it. I didn’t fucking know what to say, anyway.

“What are you going to do… John?”

God, was he choking or something? In a matter of seconds he began to look terrible, as if he was going to faint.

“I don’t really know, Paulie” and I knew that that was the precise moment to formulate the fucking question I had always wanted to ask.

What the hell was happening between us? What was going on with all the manliness that was so important to have as the main element of our images?

“John… this is so…”

“This is awful, Paul. I’m not prepared to be a… father” I grabbed locks of my hair again and started pulling them, making me moan of pain, but, in some way, helping me to forget for a minute all the worries which filled me completely.

“I know”

“Damn, Paul. I don’t even know if I’m ready to face what I’m about to do”

He sat beside me and looked at my face. His efforts to look strong enough and to make me believe that he wasn’t affected by the news were working at last, and I didn’t love the image of him looking so calm, while I had an inner war inside me.

“And what’s that?”

It was what would break a long path once and for all and maybe it’d begin another one, but he didn’t know it and I wished I didn’t either.

“John?”

I began getting closer and from that angle he looked weak again. I could see his eyes and the little wrinkles surrounding them which always told me that there was something wrong with him. But I could think about that later, because I closed my own eyes and kissed him timidly, not really waiting for a punch in the face or a shove, but a response, because I knew that he wanted it too. I was sure. I was always sure.

The kiss was long and sweet, not like in the dream I had had days ago, where he kissed me almost with violence. However, it was right this way. I liked it and he did too. That was what really mattered because no one would know about it. It was going to be a secret. It was clear and well known from the beginning. Paul would never quit to his bird chaser image. Never.

He pulled away and I noticed he had tears in his eyes.

“What the hell, Paul? Are you ok?”

He didn’t answer and I began to worry.

“You’re gonna have a son, John. What the fucking hell was that?” What the hell was that, Lennon?”

“Paul, I…”

Suddenly, the strong image that sometimes convinced me was gone. God, I remembered again who I was talking to. The man with the mask. He was just a child, just as I was. A little child who never had a mother who could console him or kiss him in the forehead before saying that everything was alright. He was just like me.

Maybe that’s why I love him so much.

“No, Paul… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just… Fuck, Macca. It was just a kiss”

Fucking words and fucking mind and fucking Lennon. Fuck myself. I shouldn’t have said that.

“Just a kiss? I’m trying to understand you, but I think I’m getting nowhere, Lennon”

He seemed hurt. I knew (or at least, I thought) he loved me too, but I was scared and my priority had always been to appear the witty, strong, sarcastic Lennon people knew so well. My first reactions were always bullshit.

And I kissed him again, opening my mouth and moistening his lips with my tongue, asking for entrance. This time it was harder and passionate. We had broken the limit, and now, anybody was going to stop us.

“Well, it wasn’t just a kiss” I said afterwards. I looked at his surprised expression and felt superior, for once during that conversation “You know what it was, Paulie”

“Hell, John” he stood up and turned his back on me.

“I don’t wanna have that child, Macca”

“What do you want then?” his voice was cold, but I knew he was expecting those specific words and, although I didn’t really want to say it, I listened to his unspoken request.

“You. I want to be with you”

Silence.

“Don’t you… don’t you want the same?”

“I thought you were smarter, Lennon”

The mood of his words told me a “yes”, without doubt.

I wanted to kill Cyn and the child and be with Paul in an empty world. That was my wish, my desire and unfortunately, my fantasy.

“I’m gonna have a child, but… I want to have you, Paul”

It seemed very simple, but of course, it wasn’t.

“Jesus…” He shut his eyes and put his hand over his forehead like he was going to faint. His breathing was quick and ragged and I didn’t really know what to do, whether go and hold him in my arms or leave him alone.

I chose the first option.

And, from behind I hugged him very tenderly and it felt fucking good, except for the fact that he was shaking.

“Al right, Macca. Everything’s ok. We can handle this. We’re the fucking Beatles, aren’t we?”

I pressed my chest against his back and my hands touched the front of his shirt, his chest, trying to calm him down.

“That news didn’t help at all, John. This… this is getting out of control”

I knew it. I had known it since I had felt the first hints of love towards him, and not brother’s love, but the arousal, the need, the passion lovers felt.

“I’m getting out of control. I just can’t stop thinking about us, about you… And I’m not a bloody queer. Fuck! I just don’t know what to do!” He turned around to look at me and his eyes were blurred again by the tears, but he wiped them immediately with the back of his hand.

“I know you’re not queer. Me neither, Paul” I was looking inside his large hazel eyes and I knew I was talking directly to his heart; I could see everything inside his eyes. Fucking everything “But I can’t help… having feelings for you”

Paul took my hands, which were still holding him and pressed hard against my wrists.

“Let’s forget about this for a moment, John” he kept looking at me, with so much intensity that he looked almost stern.

I was about to ask “about what?” but I couldn’t say anything. Of course I already knew the fucking bad news, so I only nodded. After that, the only thing I could feel were his lips over mine and his wet tongue entering my mouth for the second time that day. I closed my eyes and grabbed his back, touching every place I could reach with my hands, feeling the texture of the fabric and feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah…” I moaned against his mouth when I felt his hand over my stomach. I knew exactly what he was doing, but I said no more and gathered my senses to feel the path of pleasure he was leaving from my belly button to my crotch.

He unbuttoned my trousers and from that moment on I forgot everything about the bloody child and Cyn. My pre cum was moistening my underpants and he could feel I was about to explode. He licked my ear and I thought I was going to lost it completely when he stopped.

“What the hell…?” my voice was nothing more than an aroused whimper… and he was enjoying it, but when I opened my eyes to look at him, I still could see the deep anguish inside him. At that moment, I just wanted to please him and tell him how much I cared about him.

We stopped for a moment.

“Macca, are you ok?” the sweet caring side of John Lennon was showing up, and was that moment when I realized that Paul was the only one who had truly seen that part of me.

“Jesus, John…”

“Do you really want to do this, Macca?” I asked and his eyes widened like to big pools of sorrow.

“Yes” he said determined and completely sure about his words.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“I never though I’d say this, but… I’m fucking falling in love with you, Lennon” He almost laughed, somewhat embarrassed for the confession, and tried to comb his disheveled hair with his left hand, not looking at me.

Bleeding tension. But I just looked into his eyes, forcing him to look at me too and kissed him desperately.

Minutes later, our clothes were gathered in a heap beside us and our bodies were hot and sweaty. I could feel his sticky cock touching the heated skin of my stomach and I moved to the left to have my dick right against his. We began moving, rubbing our cocks, still standing, until he pushed me against the tea table and put all his weight over me. As if he was fucking me he began a rhythm that drove me crazy. My fingers were tangled with his and I saw his mouth opening, his reddened lips like a juicy strawberry, his eyes were tightly shut and he was frowning, suppressing the moans of pleasure he was trying to hide from the world around us.

My strength was enough to free myself form his grip and I grabbed his ass, feeling every thrust, how it went up and down, and the sweat in his butt. It was enough for me.

“Holly shit!” I shouted as I came violently over his stomach and his own dick.

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum!” and he did, just like me, moaning my name, looking fucking sexy and never losing his McCartney charm.

Our chests were fighting against each other, sweaty and sticky, trying to catch some air. When I opened my eyes again and swallowed to moisten my throat I saw him, still shocked by the orgasm, with his eyes shut and that sad expression on his face.

I knew that sex wasn’t the solution and I embraced him with my shaky arms, not caring the tea table behind me or the hour, or Cyn coming home at any time. He seemed to be dead in my arms, so tired and, for once, weak. His head was resting on my chest and our cocks were still touching, somewhat hard and sticky with our cum.

“Macca, I don’t care about the bloody child. You know I’m gonna have him, but… I don’t care anymore”

He didn’t answer and when I looked back at him I saw his dark hair plastered to his forehead and the drops of sweat in his temple. I kissed his head and tried again.

“Did you hear me?”

“I do care John. I care about the bleeding child. You know I fucking do”

I didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t give me time to think about that.

“But I’m afraid I’ll have to get by it” and at this point his voice softened and he kissed my chest with his fleshy pouty lips.

I thought about the sex ( if we could call it sex) and then in how fucking good he had always been to me. God, I really loved him.

“Thanks, Paul”

“You’re welcome, John”

And I finally, finally knew he really loved me, too.

THE END

Please, leave comments! ;) Luv them, luv them, luv them! XD

Tue, 12 Dec 2006 22:36:02 GMT

Hey, guys!

It's been a long time! I decided not to continue "Unaware Infidelity" because I lost the inspiration and I wasn't receiving many comments for it, so I think you won't miss it, hehe. Yeah, that happens, my muse disappeared... (*cries*) Well,now I'm writing short fics that I hope you like. This is a two-chapter fic, so it's not that long and you won't get tired of it :P

Title: To say It
Rating: PG-13 (Just to be safe)
Pairing: J/P... duh!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened.

To say It

I didn’t know how to start, but the tension in the room was almost palpable and I couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“That’s a good bit”

“Yeah” I answered, not really paying attention to the chord he was trying to show me. Actually, I was staring intently at his long white fingers. They had always seemed to be so flexible. Sometimes I thought that Paul was made to play guitar and nothing more than that. He could play piano, drums and trumpet, but the truth was that his hands never looked as good as when he was playing the wooden curvilinear instrument.

“John”

“Wha?”

“What’s going on with you?” his eyes scolded me and my wit disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Why do you ask, Macca?”

“I asked you if you agree with the change in the chorus of this bleeding song”

“What change?” I inquired, trying to look relaxed, leaning my feet on the table in front of me.

“The one I’ve been trying to show you since the past half an hour!” he really seemed upset, but my natural instinct didn’t let me take that seriously.

Paul took the sheet of paper, which had been resting peacefully in his left knee and stood up, penetrating my eyes with his angry stare.

“I don’t think you’re in conditions to work in the song right now, John”

That was Paul, always running from trouble, never facing anything, always thinking of his own good and benefit.

But it didn’t matter. If he left the place, the possibilities of telling him about what had happened with her decreased, and even though that was just prolonging what I should do, it represented good news to me.

Paul turned his back on me and, with his guitar in his left hand, he began walking straight to the exit door. However, I’ve never been well-known for my discretion, and my mouth released a painful moan, while I grabbed several locks of my hair in my trembling hands.

I didn’t know if I had done it in purpose. Did I really want him to see me like this?
I actually did want to tell him about what had happened, about what she had told me last night. I was just scared and that moan represented a release. If he realized how bad I was feeling, he would do something. I knew him, and I knew that mister PR will always do anything to help the others, especially his friend John.
I just wanted him to walk the first step. That was all I needed.

“John?” he turned his head over his shoulder to look at me, and I could feel his intense eyes over me, although I wasn’t looking “Are you ok?”

I clenched my fists and waited for something else to begin my explanation, but Paul just stood there, he didn’t move, maybe he didn’t dare. He knew me well, and probably he thought that I was about to explode in one of my characteristic outbursts. He was aware of what he had to do in those cases: nothing.

But I wasn’t going to explode and I knew I had to say something. Yeah, the brave Lennon having an inner battle to say something… ironic.

“The hell I am” I said giving my best to sound secure and maybe funny, but he knew me well, I already said that, and he wasn’t going to believe me just like that.

He knew that sometimes I can actually be a fucking liar.

“Right, John…” when he means it, his voice can be just as sarcastic and acid as mine “What’s wrong?”

I don’t know how he can change the mood of his words in just few seconds. He sounded so warm and nice and… sweet. Maybe that’s what they mean when they say he’s got a chameleonic voice. Who knows.

I felt his hand on my shoulder and heard the sound of the guitar touching the floor, when I finally looked at him and I saw his huge worried eyes.

I wasn’t John Lennon anymore, I just needed to say it, I needed him to hug me and say that everything was going to be alright.

“Hey, you can tell me, Lennon” he said, half joking, half meaning it.

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“Telling you it’s not going to fix things, Paul. This hasn’t got a solution”

There was a moment of silence while I was trying to gather all my bravery and fortitudes to look at Paul in the eye to tell him. He didn’t speak, he said nothing, and his eyes told me that he was there to listen to me, because he knew someway that I was dying inside for was I was going to say.

“Well, it can help, John…”

His voice has always been soothing and warm, smooth… and when he was in the plan of calming someone down or reassuring him, he was an expert. His words and their meaning were nothing compared with the feelings he could express in that beautiful sound of his.
And, suddenly, I felt that nothing was wrong, that I was a grown up, and adult and that I was a fucking Beatle. I could do anything with my life and nobody would care. I shouldn’t have to care, because I had everything, didn’t I? And Paul was there. I had Paul.

“Macca” he had been staring at the floor, waiting patiently for me to say something, giving me all the time I needed.

He knew me so well.

“Yes?”

“Macca…” I repeated and an idea shot me like a gunshot “Macca… Paul…”

I never thought about him. Never, never, never… Never thought about his feelings and the looks we had shared since the past year, the short glances, the concealed touches.
That confirmed that I was a selfish bastard and I had always been.

And that didn’t make things better.

But I said it.

I fucking said it.

“Cyn’s pregnant”

Yes...

I fucking said it.

This is a new beginning, so... please, leave comments! ;) Luv them, luv them, luv them! XD

In the meantime...

Sat, 14 Oct 2006 18:05:33 GMT

Title: The Scarf on the Floor
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: J/P
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened.

Leave comments, please ;)

The Scarf on the Floor

It was a cold winter and everyday the road which led to Abbey Road Studios was crossed by him with quick frozen steps, with a scarf covering his mouth and his white hands inside his pockets. It wasn’t worth the trouble to drive his car. It was just too close.

That morning his black shoes glimmered in the pale light of the day. His big brown eyes looked up to the sky to see a mass of menacing clouds which announced rain, so he walked faster to finally see the doors of the well known place.

The windows were closed giving the studio a stifling sensation from side to side, not allowing any breeze other than his breathing to blow in the air. There wasn’t anybody, but it wasn’t a surprise really, he had just wanted to arrive an hour before that day without any special explanation. If he played piano a few minutes alone, early in the morning, he just could relax, with no reason to be worried about.

He sat in the little seat in front of the big instrument and began playing with the keys, easing himself and forgetting everything until a sound behind his back startled him and made him stop.

“Oh, hullo, Macca”

It was him.

“Fuck. You scared me, John”

The man smiled mischievously and walked towards his partner.

“I should have thought about that, you know, scaring you, but I didn’t know you were here”

“Yeah…” was the only response Paul’s lips managed to pronounce, while his eyes returned to the keys of the piano. He began playing a new melody and hummed along with it.

“Nice, that is” John said, after a few minutes, however, Paul didn’t look at him, he didn’t even tried to answer “Can old friend John ask you something?” he added, sitting beside his friend, who was dressed in black, and he noticed he had his eyes closed, as if he was lost in the sound his own fingers were making.

“Ok”

John sighed.

“Why don’t you try to… forget her?”

Paul’s fingers stopped moving and a deep silence filled the huge room.

“What?”

“I’m talking about Jane, Paul”

“Since when did you decide to be a fucking psychologist?”

That wasn’t helping at all.

“Ok, I’ll give a fuck about your pathetic condition then, Paul”

“Damn. How the hell am I going to forget her if you keep bringing her up? God!”

“I told you” John said calmly “I won’t mention the bitch again”

Paul hesitated about his next words and finally decided not to defend her reputation. After all, he wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, John. It’s just… I’m too stressed with all this shit about the new album and…”

“I am, too, you know. The fucking thing is not working as I fucking expected”

“Yeah” Paul repeated and stood up, scratching his head, leaving his dark hair somewhat disheveled “I’m gonna check it. You coming?”

After a few seconds they were in the producer’s booth with all the controls in front of their eyes and they began to work, commenting about the songs, the order, the possible changes and the new bass line they had planned for that day.

“That one’s good, mate” in a matter of seconds John’s eyes met Paul’s and, even though being that close had been uncomfortable throughout all their lives together, for some reason they couldn’t unstick their stares from the other that time.

It had all began normally, a sad cloudy English morning, but the situation was getting weird and scary. Strangely, John wasn’t making his usual jokes and acid comments and Paul wasn’t eager for everything to be perfect.

Finally, the thing that assured them that that wasn’t a common day was the kiss that followed the long look. It was slow and somewhat wet, maybe ashamed, maybe intimidated. It was like committing a crime, a huge one, a one that would always be in their minds.

And Paul wasn’t attracted by the idea of going to jail.

“Hell, John!” he said, pulling away and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, looking extremely embarrassed “What…? What the fuck was that?”

What John did was something Paul never expected to happen. He kissed him again and everything seemed to blur for the bassist’s eyes. John’s tongue entered Paul’s mouth and when the younger man began to become aroused, a rush of fear filled his senses, but he wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t.

In the middle of the kiss, Paul opened his eyes and looked at the window. The white sky was shining imposingly and suddenly he wanted to smile, a wild foreign sensation filled him and his heartbeat began a frantic pace.

“Mmmhh…” Paul moaned against John’s lips and opening his eyes, he noticed the bulge growing inside John’s trousers. Another strange inner smile took him by surprise.

He couldn’t control himself anymore and something inside his head told him that everything was alright, and that, after all, that was going to happen sooner or later. It wasn’t as he hadn’t thought about it, because that was plainly impossible. He remembered when he had dreamed about that during his adolescence, in his bed and white sheets that were found sticky just as his underwear the next morning. That thought turned him on wildly and he felt his boxers getting wet again.

“God…” John sighed inside Paul’s mouth “I want you”

Paul didn’t want to say anything that could break the kiss, so he grabbed John’s hand and he placed it in his own crotch, allowing the older man to touch him, to have him. And, in spite of his desires he pulled away from the kiss and spoke in a rough voice.

“I never thought this was going to happen” Paul said between whimpers, while John massaged his groin through the fabric of his black pants.

“It’s… happening. God, Paul. I want to fuck you so bad”

The arousal was uncontrollable and kind of new and, taking a quick decision, Paul stood up, not daring to look anywhere else but John’s eyes.

“And I want you to fuck me, John” he unbuttoned his pants and they fell to the floor, surrounding his ankles. It was fast, quick, simple… His underwear fell, too, and his penis was released from the prison of the clothes “Fuck me, John.”

‘Before I regret about this’

John didn’t think it twice and unzipped his pants, took his cock in his hand and placed it in between Paul’s buttocks.

“I want you… God… I want you now”

Paul never knew the reason why it was so easy to leave all the shyness and decency apart and, most of all, let John to fuck him. Why not him? But, the words ‘fuck me’ didn’t sound like every time he fucked a bird, when they begged to have more from the bassist, but like an oath, a way to express his dedication towards his friend, mixed with the arousal he was experiencing, which was driving him crazy.

It hurt like hell and Paul moaned in pain.

“Are you ok?” John asked worriedly.

Paul had his eyes shut and his breathing was uneven and ragged, but he didn’t complain.

“Don’t stop”

They forgot how their relationship had been once. They forgot that they were friends, brothers, partners, rivals. The idea of fucking didn’t make sense with this, and, despite of it they made love. John knew it hurt because of the noises Paul was letting escape from his full reddened lips so he kissed his cheek from behind and whispered soothing words in his ear.

To Paul, it was hurting horribly but just the right movement changed everything.

“Shit!” Paul whined with pleasure, when John hit his prostate.

“God… f-fuck… yeah… oh Paaaul…”

“John… John… oh, fuck! Yesss…”

All of a sudden the act became something incomparable and was giving them a pleasure they had never experienced before with any girl. It was just… different, unique.
The passion overwhelmed them with every single thrust and Paul grabbed the controls in front of him, trying not to lose his head, he watched the knobs which controlled the edition of the songs he and John had written so many times.

“Please… God… John…” Paul’s forehead had pearled salty drops, despite the coldness of the room. His scarf was lying on the floor next to him, forgotten.

After long and pleasant minutes both men found release and cried each other names. Their breathings were a race, quick, short, ragged and his bodies were sweaty and sticky, still with his clothes on, except for the trousers and underwear in the floor around their ankles. A few seconds were enough for them to realize the state they were in, but when they moved from their positions they didn’t dare to look the other in the eye and to face the circumstances up. Passion left place to the embarrassment and the silence was the only atmosphere and connection between them.

A noise from the door downstairs caused a sudden shock and in a matter of seconds they found themselves zipping his pants desperately and running to the bathroom. A minute later, male voices could be heard from the other side of the wooden door and they were recognized as the ones who belonged to both Georges: Martin and Harrison.

“Ringo called me this morning. Maureen’s feeling bad so he’s gonna be late”

“And the other two?”

Paul sighed and bit his thumbnail with nervousness while John fastened his belt.

“Suppose they’re late”

John finished his task and, not standing the silence anymore, he looked at Paul’s face and sat in the floor of the bathroom, which was completely frozen, and rested his feet on the toilet.

“Macca…”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me”

Paul’s eyes traveled from the tiles to John’s deep look and he felt obliged to say something, to excuse himself.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to…”

“Fuck, Macca. It happened… don’t give me that shit now” John’s voice was smooth and tender in some way and the younger man felt a wave of tranquility rushing inside him. He didn’t have to say anything. It had happened.

It was already done.

“I love you”

Time stopped for a tenth of second when John’s whisper hit him, and Paul’s mouth spoke for him, not asking permission to his brain. George began tuning his guitar on the other side and Martin said something about the C chord he was playing.

“I love you, too”

They were stuck in that bathroom and nothing could be done, so Paul sat beside John and they kept in silence for a long time, analyzing their surroundings and repeating the words over and over again inside their heads.

“So, did that help… to forget?”

“Forget what?”

“Forget her”

Forget her… forget Jane. God, he had forgotten everything but John when they’d fucked and he was still making the effort to remember who he really was. A stained image of himself made him snort unconsciously.

“What?” asked John by his side, looking at his dampened sticky hair.

“We fucked John”

“I know, Macca. I know we fucked. So…” he wasn’t sure now, but he asked anyway “do you regret?”

Paul couldn’t say anything so he kept biting his fingernail and then he moistened his full lips with his tongue, looking at nowhere and longing for that situation to end soon. But he couldn’t lie to John, he’d know if he was lying. He knew everything about him.

“No… I said ‘I love you’… fool”

A sigh.

“So it’s true… We… Are you queer?”

“No more queer than you, mate”

“Then we love each other” John remarked with a tone Paul hadn’t heard in his whole life.

Paul looked up at John and he did the same. The ashamed stare had disappeared and the kiss that followed told them that it was true, neither of them was lying. It was real and suddenly the idea of making love didn’t look so weird.

“Holly shit!” the bathroom door opened and George Harrison appeared in the threshold looking down at the scene in front of him “What the hell are you two doing?”

Damn.

Paul and John pulled away, looking guilty and somewhat scared but after seconds of pure quick meditation, they only stood up and John touched George on the shoulder.

“Secret… or I’ll kill you” the rhythm guitarist said, and despite the terrible embarrassment, Paul laughed and smiled at his friend.

“Don’t make him angry, Geo. You know he can actually do it”

“God, I just wanted to piss”

The couple of songwriters left an utterly confused George behind them, giggling shyly and looking at each other.

“If he only knew what we did before he arrived”

“Come on. Let's go get my scarf”

short fic

Mon, 09 Oct 2006 03:54:14 GMT

(adria_harrison, I'm working on chapter 7. I'll send it to you soon ;))

Now this: short and sad...

Title: Difference
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: J/P
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened.

Hope you enjoy!

“You’re just a fucking selfish bastard!”

“Am I?

“I’ve got the right. You can’t bloody tell me you don’t like her…”

“Why the hell…?”

“You want to know why? Because you promised the world to the fucking red haired bird! Did you bloody think about me?”

“Nice fucking moment to talk about it. So what are you going to do, John? Are you fucking leaving me?”

“Now I’ve got her…”

“Are you fucking leaving me?”

“Damn. She fills my life. She… she makes me happy”

“Are you fucking leaving me?!”

“Yes”

“So every fuck was just sex for you? Every fucking blowjob? Every bloody night in a hotel bed? I should have imagined. You fucking love her now, don’t you? Randy bastard”

“Don’t look at me like that. Fuck… Paul…”

“To me that was love. Every time I fucked you I felt as if I was giving you my life. Every time you fucked me I was actually giving it to you…”

“Jesus…”

“Fine… But, you know? That’s the difference between you and me”

“Difference? Don’t be such a prick, Paul. There’s no difference between…”

“Yes, there’s a fucking difference, John. You fucking know it”

“No, there’s not. I loved you… love you… as much as you do. I… l-love you”

“I’m not sure about that, John”

“You’re never sure about anything, so shut the fuck up, Paul!”

“Wanna know why? Wanna fucking know, Lennon? Don’t you really know?”

“Fuck, no”

Pure silence.

And Paul’s words were the end.

“I never left you”

Sun, 24 Sep 2006 19:37:56 GMT

First of all, I want to apologize! I've not updated "Unaware Infidelity", but I'm working on it.
This fic is something I wrote in a veeeery busy day, so it was actually a sacrifice of time hehe =P It's very simple, but I think is different from my other works ;)
Hope you enjoy it.

Title: However Strange It May Sound
Rating: PG
Pairing: J/P
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles and this never happened.
A/N: This wasn't edited, so don't be cruel about the grammar XD

It is so clear in my mind… I still can remember the moment perfectly, every detail, that look in his eyes never seen before by the fucking reporters. They’d give their lives to get a shot like that… I see him looking at me with the perfect combination of wrinkles and the scowl over his white skin.

I can even remember the taste of blood in his mouth…

The minutes pass so quickly. I just want them to stop for a second. God, why can’t I stop time only once? I just hate to be slave of the bastard. I fucking hate it, and the bloody time won’t let me escape from his memory, because when a minute passes I love him a minute more.

A minute can mean a lot of things if you analyze it, but in this case I don’t really know what I mean when I say “I love him a minute more”. I just know I do.

“So, what you try to say is that I suck, don’t you, John? Are you trying to make me feel bad again? I’m not gonna cry, you know…”

“What I meant is… that you’re not good enough…”

I shouldn’t have said that. Why the hell couldn’t I shut my mouth?

“You know, Lennon? I’m sick of this. I hope you realize one day that you’re not what you think you are. You’re not the fucking king of the world!”

That hurt, but the next words, said with rather melancholy than anger, made me reflect and think about a new meaning for ‘hurt’.

“Sometimes… I think you’re nothing”

That didn’t hurt…

…it was like death to me.

“Nothing, you hear? And if I’m not what you expect me to, you can fuck yourself! Go find another songwriter, Lennon”

“I think I will… Thanks”

I can be a fucking asshole sometimes (always, maybe). I knew I was hurting him, although the proud bastard would have never admitted it. The thing was that he was hurting ME and I wasn’t doing anything about it, because, you know, I’m a proud fucking bastard, too.

“You will?” Perhaps he wasn’t expecting to hear that, because his eyes turned sad behind the long thick eyelashes. But the sadness didn’t last too long and after a few seconds of silence he finally said “Fuck you”.

Who hasn’t heard that ‘eloquent’ combination of words? Well, I think I say it a million times a day. Not a big deal with them. But the mixture of Paul’s voice, his contemptuous expression and the words weren’t funny to me at all.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fuck you, Lennon… Do I repeat it? Maybe you didn’t hear this time, either”

I felt the blood going through my veins and I knew my face was probably turning red. I’ve never seen my furious expression, but, knowing my features, it has to be scary. My angular face and my somewhat slating eyes may acquire a terrible angry image. However, Paul knew me well.

He wasn’t going to be scared.

And that thought made me get more furious. Why couldn’t he get scared like everyone else?

Fuck.

However, I knew the only way to make him feel my wrath. I was still John Lennon.

But he was still Paul McCartney.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

The only thing I remembered after swearing a hundred times in my mind was having my fist stained in warm, bright blood and Paul lying on the floor, covering his face with trembling hands, pretending (or trying to pretend) he was alright when he knew it hurt like hell.

I glanced at my fist again and suddenly the blood scared me. I wanted to know if he was alright, if I had hurt him too much (I knew I hadn’t, though) and talk to him, I wanted to tell him I was sorry. But I didn’t… obviously.

He stood up, still holding his nose and touching his left eye, swearing.

“I don’t regret about what I said” the bastard said, risking his own safety. I knew he could hit me in return, but he wasn’t going to. I was the prick who used to solve every problem with a punch in the face… not him.

When his eyes looked at me and he uncovered his face I saw his lower lip bleeding and his teeth stained in red. God, I had punched him harder than I thought and meant.

“You can go to hell” he said and turned his back on me, wiping his face and hands with the sleeve of his light blue shirt, planning to exit the room.

“You better not leave me” I said, leaving every hint of rationality aside and making him stop in the middle of the patterned carpet which led to the door of the suite.

“What?”

“You better not leave me, Paul” I repeated.

And the expression I told you about appeared hitting my senses like a gunshot. I couldn’t say a word, because my mind was busy trying to understand why Paul’s mouth seemed to be about to explode of anger with his lips curved in a weird position, his nose had wrinkles all over it and his eyes seemed to get wet, preparing themselves to cry.
And I couldn’t reach any conclusion. It was extremely weird… like the Giaconda. An indecipherable expression…

As I couldn’t do anything I stood there, staring at him deeply, asking for an explanation. I thought he owed me one for confusing me so much and making me realize that after all the years we’d been together I didn’t know him as well as I thought.

“I said go to hell! Why can’t you understand?”

“Because I’m John Lennon. Thought you knew…”

He looked at the ceiling with exasperation, showing me his now bleeding nose. I was sorry. For the first time in my life I was sorry for hitting someone, I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t… and I did. There are so many things I’ve never wanted to do…

I never wanted to love him, God. I never wanted to feel dependent on him like I do now. He knows I can’t do anything without him and I need him even when I say I want to be alone.

Prick.

I never wanted to fall in love with a man. And it fucking happened…

Maybe he’s not a man. Such levels of egocentrism can’t fit in one… Well, there are some exceptions.

I am an exception.

“You think I need you, don’t you? Fuck. If you knew how many times I’ve wanted to quit, Lennon.”

I just longed to put an ending to the bloody silly discussion which, by the way, I had started and I wanted to do a million things in a second, although I knew that wasn’t possible.

You know, sometimes, when things go fucking wrong I lose my mind and I think less than I do when I’m alright, however strange it may sound.

All of a sudden, the blood stained my own shirt. I’ve never been disgusted by blood.
He stained my face, or… well, I stained my own face, and until know I can’t understand why he didn’t hit me or call me ‘queer’ when he looked like he was about to murder me.

This sounds fucking weird.

We kissed. I kissed him and he kissed me back.

Maybe he loves me. Or maybe he’s a bloody randy git.

It just happened two hours and a half ago, so when I said that I could even remember the taste of blood in his mouth I was being serious.

I mean it. Time’s always betraying me, the fucking bastard.

The liquid is still surrounding my tongue.