Art and Obligation

Chapter 17

A/N: Because I've started some new courses at uni, I have decided to start posting this fics on Mondays from now on. Like a little reward for you all for starting the new week and getting through the first day. I also hope updates will be more regular now, but I cannot promise. I hope so, though.

Waking up that Friday morning, the sun itself having only just risen above the numerous rooftops that made up the view from the bedroom window of the McCartney's Parisian apartment, Paul felt a strange sense of unease in his stomach, though he could not think of anything that could be the cause. Sitting up, he looked out of the window as he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. It was looking to be another good day with warm weather and a soft breeze to make it more temperate and, in his opinion, more pleasant, the lace curtains swaying in the gentle wind, giving him glimpses of the clear blue sky that was hidden behind them, still coloured golden from the light of the morning sun. Beside him, John still lay vast asleep, his lips slightly parted as he slept, his breathing slow and gentle, and his eyelids twitching as he dreamed of what Paul hoped were pleasant and fantastical things. One of his arms lay slung across Paul's lap with his fingers tangled into the rough material of his sleeping shirt to keep him close. Paul smiled down at him as he ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it aside, while being careful not to awaken him, before he lay back down and rolled onto his side to face him.

Sighing, he put the unpleasant feeling down to a dream he had most likely forgotten, and gently traced the older man's features with his fingertips, feeling the slight scrape of a stubble on his jaw as he traced his jawline. John's hand, triggered by the feeling of someone else's touch on his skin, untangled itself from his shirt and grabbed at Paul's hip, pulling him closer until they were touching as he mumbled something incomprehensible in his sleep, causing Paul to snicker as he gave into him and placed a gentle kiss on the man's nose, before laying his head back down on his pillow. Closing his eyes, he listened to the soothing sound of the other's breathing and relished the feeling of his warm body against his own, his fingers moving on their own accord, reluctant to stop touching him and let him rest.

The last couple of days with John had been pure joy for the both of them, and Paul regretted the day they would need to put an end to it and go on with their usual, ordinary lives, pretending to be nothing more but acquaintances while John would finish his portrait - which Paul suspected could not take much longer - until their meetings would stop and they would most likely never see each other again, separated by society's norms and expectations - his father's expectations. Sighing, he drew closer to the man beside him, nudging his forehead with his own and wishing, though he knew it was in vain, that for once he would not need to.

The body beside him stirred. Paul refused to open his eyes as he heard him groan and murmur to himself, his body turning and twisting as he awoke, wanting to remain the way they were a little while longer in the hope he could, even for a moment, stop time. John rubbed his forehead against his and his fingers tightened their hold on his hips, his nails digging into his skin through the thin material of his sleeping attire. His voice, too, became more substantial, the incomprehensible sounds transforming into babbles and finally into words as he opened his eyes, muttering something about walking and pretty fingers before he said Paul's name, which made the owner of that name smile. Feeling the other's gaze upon him, Paul opened his eyes as well and smiled as he looked directly into those dark amber crystals that were focused upon him.

"Good morning to you," John muttered, his voice rough and hoarse with sleep, which caused the little hairs on Paul's arms to stand up straight.

"Good morning," he answered. For a moment they did not speak and only looked at each other, John still recovering from his sleep as he drew circles on his lover's hip with his thumb, while Paul felt little for breaking a peaceful moment like this now he had it, those moments having become rarer and rarer as he had grown with age. After a few moments, John released his hip and reached for his hand instead, grasping it tightly and clutching it against his chest before turning and rolling over onto his other side, dragging said hand with him as he did so, which left Paul with no other choice but to curl himself up around John's back, slotting himself against him perfectly as he caught onto the hint. He smiled as he snuggled up to him and buried his nose in his hair, feeling perfectly content.