German girls were ugly and loud, George decided, and especially that bird John was chatting up. Her make up was caked on, probably to hide her bad complexion, he thought, snorting to himself, taking another long sip of his pint of beer. It was piss warm, but it still was beer.
He lit up a cigarette, watching John and the plump German girl. George could tell John was laying it on thick, and if John's mouth was still moving, bullshit was coming out of it. The girl didn't seem too interested anyway, so that made her fat, ugly, and stupid to boot on top of it. George chuckled to himself and took another large sip of his beer. John must've been truly wasted and horny to go for that.
He zoned out for a while before focusing back on them, and he knew just enough German to realise that she was swearing at John, before she pushed him away and stormed off into the opposite direction. George burst into laughter; he'd never seen John rejected before, and the fact that this ugly bird had pushed him away was the icing on the cake for him. He stood up when John walked towards the table, clapping and whistling with a huge grin on his face.
John stood up and cursed under his breath when the bird he had been chatting up -what was her name again? It started with a B...- shoved him back and stomped away angrily, leaving him alone at the bar. Dammit. He couldn't even remember what he told her to piss her off, but apparently she hadn't really dug his rather straightforward idea of the way to woo a woman. He snorted to himself. Oh well, no great loss, she hadn't been too much of the looker really, a bit fat and with far too much make up, but she'd been thoroughly fuckable, and that was what John needed right now.
He swayed towards the table where he'd left his mates to chat the girl up, squinting his eyes and barely managing to make out the shape of George laughing and clapping through the haze produced by his short-sighed vision and the smoke in the room. He kicked a chair away from the table and sank into it, sprawling and glaring up to George. "Oh shut it 'arrison. At least I manage to get laid once in a while, uh?" He sneered. "And I wasn't still a bloody virgin at fucking seventeen, either," he spat meanly, feeling rather vexed.
George continued to clap and whistle, ignoring John's cutting words. He'd heard worse from him in the past, honestly. "It's about quality, not quantity," he laughed, sitting down in his chair. "You dodge a bullet my friend." He took a drag off of his cigarette. "She was a right slag, but you would've known that if you'd put on yer fuckin' glasses," he snorted, drunk and amused with himself. George thought John's squinting was kind of sexy. He downed his pint of beer rather quickly, getting some of it onto himself as it spilled from the sides of his mouth and down his neck, staining the front of his black T-shirt. Queer thoughts out, though. Beer in. He let out a loud burp, some of the beer coming back up. George swallowed it back down.
"What quality?" John snapped back, laughing outwardly. "In yer case, it's not quantity nor quality. It's just a big fuming pile of nothing." He grinned, satisfied, giving a little shrug at what George said next. "Yer just jealous." He meant for the girl of course, but the words still sent a little tingle down his spine. "She wasn't so bad. I need a shag anyway, an' 'm not about to get picky about it." He gave a little amused snort at George's comment about his glasses. "That's why I don't put 'em on, son. Helps me not to be so picky that I'd still be pure an' untouched at seventeen," he smirked, rather liking to tease George about that. Because geez, the lad was seventeen and still hadn't bedded any girl. John was beginning to wonder whether he was queer or something.
John made a face at the noise of George gulping down his beer with a gurgle, staining himself in the process and half throwing up. "Classy," he commented with a sigh. "Didn't yer mom teach you some table manners?" He drawled, feeling a bit irritated.
George snorted. His drunken mate had hit the nail on the head. George was jealous, not of John but of that bird. He lit himself a cigarette with shaky hands. "Yeah, I'm jealous John, because I wanted to shag that slag you were chatting up," he mumbled around his cigarette, taking a long drag to buy himself time. He didn't want to argue with John, especially not when the older boy was drunk and in a bad mood. "You want to get out of here? Go to Harold's for a burger? If that waitress you're shagging is 'round she can give us free food," he said in an attempt to take the focus off his virginity. John seemed rather obsessed with the matter and George found it a bit unsettling.
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All Those Years Ago - Lennison Fan Fiction - Beatles Slash Fan Fiction
Fanfiction'All Those Years Ago' The story of John and George's relationship over the years, one year per chapter, basing ourselves on the facts we all know and then filling in the blanks at our convenience. Cowritten with Gereiheimer and posted on Livejournal...
