((Based on a conversation in a Mclennon group chat, lmao--))
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"Give us a kiss, will you?" John mumbled rather quietly, holding his hand out to Paul with a rather cheeky grin, one which let Paul knew that John was in the mood for affection.
"Cheeky, maybe you should remember to not joke with me." Paul said in a rather deep tone, tapping the tip of his index finger on the tip of John's nose, making him blink and brush his hand away with a, 'Rah--!'
"Come off it, it was a lovely bouquet!" John grinned, a memory loop in his mind reminding him of the fake bouquet he handed Paul on stage and remembering the sheer disappointment on the younger man's face when it popped in two pieces.
"I was really looking forward to something from you." Paul said, his face merely a couple inches away from John's, his grin bigger, and his doughy eyes staring right back at John's in an almost taunting manner.
"You'll get something alright." John said quickly, and just as quick as he spoke he pressed his lips against Paul's, making the younger man let out a hum and lean into John's touch, deepening the kiss and closing his eyes and relishing in the feeling of affection from John.
"Mm.."
Then, suddenly, an almost heavy silence was pressed against their chest, making the two pull away, their lips plump, and look towards the entrance of their dressing room, where George was standing, staring at them with a quirked, thick brow and his hands on his hips, arms crossed, accompanied with a frown.
"I leave the room for two minutes." The youngest Beatle mumbled, cocking his hip out slightly, acting like a father who just caught his son wrist deep in a cookie jar.
"Sorry, Mrs. Harrison! Were we being naughty little lads?" John replied to George in a crackly, high-pitched tone, batting his eyelashes and folding his hands under his chin.
"What? Is it Paulie's bedtime?"
"Piss off, Lennon." George replied, sitting back down in his chair, attempting to accept the awkward feeling of being the third wheel.
Sure, he had Ringo as another best friend, something to joke with while John and Paul were in their own little world.
However, when Ringo wasn't there, and George was in a seemingly iffy mood, sometimes Lennon-McCartney kisses get an equally iffy feeling.
"Someone's got their knickers in a twist, ain't that right?" John asked Paul, resting his head in his hands, staring at the other man with a usually cheeky expression, but just as loving and puppy like.
"Yes, love,"
"You ought to not.. y'know, heh, rub it in me face.." George grumbled, but took in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling deeply.
"You know we love you, Georgie." Paul grinned at him, holding John's hand tightly in his lap, only making George chuckle and glance away from the two.
"Right." George only replied back, not attempting to hide his grin.
"We mean it." Paul said, his tone soft, and his grip on John's hand becoming just as soft.
"You're not my mum, so piss off, McCartney." George quirked his eyebrow at Paul, the grin still plastered on his face, before leaving the room in an attempt to find Ringo, and probably go for a smoke.
"For time for us, then." John said, giving Paul and quick kiss on his lips, his hands placed on Paul's waist, feather like.
