November was on its way out by the time John and Paul returned to school with their newly mending relationship. It was particularly cold on that Monday morning, and John made the trip to the usual meeting spot huddled in a coat and scarf, squinting against the biting air; the song assignment for their music class was due today, and he was particularly antsy about the ordeal. They luckily didn't have to perform it at assembly like they had to last time, only having to do so in front of the teacher - John was glad for that. The song he'd made felt much too personal.. he didn't want to perform it to a bunch of people who didn't know who he really was. Paul didn't even know about it yet, and it was in part about him. He was curious to know what he'd come up with as well. Would his partner have had some influence in it? Or was it something he made pretty much by himself?
By the time he made it to their spot, he was puffing slightly, breath visible in the bleak, chilly air - he was the last to arrive again, and they all greeted him happily but were obviously eager to get going and out of the cold. John's gaze immediately latched onto Paul when he saw him standing beside George.
The younger boy had a thick black scarf up to his chin, brows furrowed slightly as he continuously rubbed his hands together to try and warm them; his long lashes framed his hazel-green eyes, strikingly dark against his pale skin that seemed even more pallid more due to the cold, though his cheeks and nose were flushed pink along with the tip of his ears; his ebony hair was swept aside with only a little bit of grease, and John preferred it that way - looking more natural. When their gazes met, there was silence for a few long, tense seconds before Paul sent him a shy smile, unable to hide the pleased sparkle in his eyes. John's heart bounded suddenly in his chest, and he did nothing to stop his grin taking form in return. He was happier than ever that things were good between them again. Finally, the stony silent treatment and fights were over. They hadn't seen each other since that day at Menlove Avenue, and now all he wanted to do was snog the life out of him; though he decided to keep his feelings to himself until there was ample opportunity.
"Is somethin' going on here that you're not tellin' us?" George butted in. Him and Ringo were watching them both with curiosity and barely contained excitement, and the auburn-haired boy remembered suddenly that they didn't know that they'd talked to each other and made up. The fact that they were so invested in their relationship was comforting, of course, but albeit a little embarrassing.
"No. Nothing." Paul shrugged, passive as ever, though his fingers brushed the back of John's hand in a way that told him he did so intentionally - the two shared one last knowing, giddy look before they set off in the direction of their school, saying nothing more on the matter. To avoid constant pestering from their friends, John brought up the assignment that was due. They talked excitedly about it, and John learned that George and Ringo had come up with a song named 'Octopuses' Garden' (which, to him, sounded exceedingly peculiar, but he was intrigued nonetheless) and Paul's was 'Here, There and Everywhere', which he'd made nearly completely by himself. Strange how both him and John, when partnered with other people, end up making songs by themselves. Nevertheless, he was very much eager to hear Paul's.
They made it to school just in time to prepare for their music class first period, where they all performed their songs for Mr Martin - they were to get their results at the end of the week, though John didn't mind much as long as he got a C. Martin had seemed pretty impressed enough with his song, though, which made him feel at least a bit better about his chances.
The four of them met up again at lunchtime, and John was putting his books away in his locker, his friends surrounding him as they chatted idly when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and was mildly surprised to be met with the sight of Stuart, standing there somewhat awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. He glanced at his friends for a few seconds - George and Paul were too deep in their discussion about some new Eddie Cochran single to notice either of them, and Ringo had already taken out a sandwich he'd packed and was beginning to eat it. He turned back to Stu, placing a hand on his shoulder before he guided him away a little bit, out of earshot.
"Aye, Stu. How are ya?" He greeted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"'M fine, thanks, John." Stu reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck, looking slightly awkward as he side-glanced at Paul before looking back at him. John followed his gaze, eyes widening slightly when he saw that the younger boy was looking at them, brows furrowed and a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. "I wanted to say that your song was really good, mate. And I'm sorry I didn't do much with the assignment."
John smiled at him, smacking him on the back.
"It's fine, lad. I know you have bigger things to worry about."
"Yeah. Thanks." Stu nodded. "I'll let you get back to your friends." With that, he turned away and disappeared into the crowd of students around them. John watched him go for a moment before going back to George, Ringo and Paul; the latter came up to him, and though he was trying to act casually, he could see that he was failing to do so.
"What was that about?" He asked. John bit his lip in order not to give himself away with a smug smile - he knew quite well why Paul was acting strangely.
"Oh, nothin'. Just talkin' about the song." He shrugged. Paul's gaze darkened for a moment and he discreetly grabbed John's wrist, staring balefully after where they last saw Stuart; John couldn't stop himself from being nonchalant anymore, and he chuckled to himself, thoroughly amused and delighted by Paul's slight possessiveness and jealousy. He glanced around for a moment before whispering in his ear:
"You're cute."
He pulled away, growing even more smug as he saw Paul's cheeks flush even more.
"Hey, guys!" Ringo came up to him, speaking around a mouthful of his sandwich; John and George laughed at him, though Paul's nose scrunched up a little in disgust, and the older boy couldn't believe that he could get any more adorable.
"We wanna ditch and go down to the chippy." George finished for him. "Coming?"
"Oh, fuck yeah!" John agreed immediately, excited to jump on any opportunity to get out of the hellhole. Paul was a little reluctant at first to do so, but eventually the auburn-haired boy managed to convince him - a minute later, the four of them were slipping through the gates and were off down the street to one of their most favourite places. The weather was relatively the same as that morning, though the clouds had parted to send weak sunlight upon them - darker clouds were gathering in the distance, though, and John figured it was going to rain again soon. When they'd reached the chip shop, it was still quite packed due to it being lunchtime, though there were less school students around, the customers being made up of mainly dock workers who'd come up from them to have a meal. John shouted for Paul, deciding to get a banana milkshake to share, and they all gathered at one of the back seats with their food, eagerly digging in.
Him and Paul were sitting as close as they could without drawing suspicion, and George and Ringo decided to continue their job of asking them if they'd finally made up.
"C'mon, just tell us! We want to know." George whined, leaning forward and giving them a puppy dog look as if it would make them more likely to spill the beans. "'S not like we'll tell anyone anythin'."
Finally, if just to shut them both up about it, Paul told them what they wanted to hear.
"Yes, fine! We did. Now can we stop talkin' about it?" He rolled his eyes, popping another chip in his mouth. John couldn't help chuckling a little when George and Ringo basically cheered, saying "it's about bloody time!", feeling a fleeting moment of serene happiness - with everything gone back to normal, just the four of them all together again.. he'd really missed this. Him and Paul's estranged time really tore things up in their group, and he was glad that they could all be together without any issues. And the feel of Paul's thigh pressed up against him reminded him of their newly reborn closeness, to which he couldn't resist taking a step further; he tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on the younger boy's knee under the safety of the table, watching nervously as Paul jumped a little before relaxing, smiling shyly at John - he smiled back, and his hand then stayed there for the rest of the time.
By the time school was over, the city of Liverpool was being drenched in rain; the sound of kids' laughter and wet thuds of feet against puddles gathered along the pavement sounded throughout as John rushed alongside his friends across the grounds and out of the front gates, wanting to get to the bus stop as quick as possible in order to escape the onslaught of rain. He was endlessly glad that the day was over, though, having been bored out of his mind during the entirety of his lessons, and he wondered faintly whether he should do something that night. But, it seemed his questions would be swiftly answered. As he stood there under the shelter of the bus stop, arms wrapped around himself in order to provide at least some semblance of warmth, Paul beside him (George and Ringo had parted ways with them further back, since they'd decided to go to the record shop and Paul and John let them go on by themselves).
The raven-haired boy who he'd come to care for so much turned to him with a hopeful curve in his smile before asking:
"Come to mine? I dunno if da'll be home when we get there or not, but.." He trailed off, pulling his coat closer to his frame as he watched John expectantly.
"Yeah, course." John perked up; he was certainly eager to make up for lost time. It'd been a while since he had stayed at Paul's house, and he missed it.
"You probably can't stay too long, since da'll get pissed and probably want me to do homework or somethin'." Paul sighed exasperatedly, and John quickly gave their surroundings a glance before he gathered his hand in his own, gazing down at him with a soft grin.
"I thought homework was yer favourite pastime." He joked. He spotted the bus making its way towards them in the distance, and he forced himself to let go of the younger boy's hand; not without giving it one last squeeze before he did so.
Paul rolled his eyes, stepping forward along with the rest of the people waiting as the bus screeched to a stop in front of them.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny."
Grabbing onto Paul's upper arm in order not to lose him in the crowd, him and John clambered their way onto the bus, glaring at people when they were unceremoniously shoved and pushed around as people clamored to get to the back seats. They chose to sit in the fifth row, Paul by the window and John next to him before a younger student from their school sat down beside them, looking at them both nervously before turning to talk to his friends. They decided to use the fact that the bus was so packed to their advantage; John scooted closer to Paul and gently slid his arm around his waist, careful to keep it hidden from anyone else's sight - he didn't miss the way the raven-haired boy shuffled further into the touch.
"Hey, Macca?" John began.
"Yeah?" Paul turned from where he was looking out the window to raise his eyebrows at him.
"Can I hear the song you made when we get to yours?" He asked. For a moment he thought Paul would say no, but instead he just nodded.
"Okay. If you want. It's not.. not particularly very rock 'n' roll." He shrugged, expression a little embarrassed and shy until John squeezed his hip in a comforting way, giving him a gentle smile.
"'S fine. Anythin' you've made will be great, I'm sure."
Paul blushed. "Yer such a sap."
He couldn't seem to stop himself from grinning, though.
For the rest of the bus trip, they chatted idly every now and then, but ultimately fell into a comfortable silence, just listening to the prattling of the people around them and the groan of the bus engine as it stopped and started. Finally they'd reached Paul's stop and they quickly bustled off the bus and back out into the downpour; taking John's hand, the younger boy sped off and they tore down the street as quick as they could to get to his place - no matter what he would try, the grin on John's face wouldn't go away. Once they'd gotten there, Paul opened it up with his keys before they hastened to get inside. Their feet left puddles of water on the floor of the hallway, and the pair quickly wiped their shoes on the mat at the front before making their way further into the house.
"Dad? Mike?" Paul called into the house. Silence followed for a second before there was a shuffle, Mike appearing from the lounge room a few seconds later; he paused, gazing in surprise at John for a moment before relaxing.
"Hi, Paul."
"Da' not home?" Paul asked.
"Nope. Not yet." Mike smiled slyly. "Sneaking John in again, are we?"
The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes before tossing a loose piece of lint in his brothers' direction.
"Shut up."
With that, they walked past Mike and to Paul's room, John chuckling to himself; he was glad Jim wasn't home yet.
The pair entered Paul's room. John gazed around at it for a moment, taking everything in, seeing that nothing had changed (it had only been something like a week and a half since he'd last been there, he chastised himself) before he immediately took to shedding his coat, scarf and shoes. Paul did the same, sitting down on his small single bed afterwards and running a hand through his wet hair. John bit his lip - he had to admit with the way his hair fell into his eyes, free from styling, it was incredibly attractive.
He turned around, gaze fixing on the desk he was standing next to. On top of it, lying open to a page scribbled with writing, was Paul's notebook. He squinted, picking it up and sliding his glasses on in order to read it. At the top 'Here, There and Everywhere' was written in his usual neat script, and he eagerly read what seemed to be the final draft of the lyrics for it.
To lead a better life, I need my love to be here
Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with the wave of his hand
Nobody can deny that there's something there
There, running my hands through his hair -
He looked up when there was an indignant "hey!" coming from Paul before he promptly strode over and snatched the notebook from John's grasp, eyes wide and frightened as he clutched it to his chest.
"I-I'm sorry-" John started, heart beating fast as he anxiously adjusted his glasses, cheeks burning with embarrassment for having done that. But his stomach churned with excitement. Those had been male pronouns... had he been writing about?-
"You know it's rude to snoop through other people's stuff?" He clutched onto the book tighter, expression afraid but guarded as he watched John's every move.
The auburn-haired boy could tell he was worried about his reaction to seeing that - he took off his glasses, slipping them into his pocket before he took a cautious step forward. Paul stayed where he was, though his grip on the notebook relaxed and he let his arms fall to his sides.
"It's okay." John reassured him. "Did.. did you sing it with those pronouns to Mr Martin?" He asked softly.
"No." He shook his head, gaze on the floor. "I'm not stupid."
John paused. He then sat down on Paul's bed in a cross legged position, patting the space in front of him wordlessly for the younger boy to sit - there was a moment as he stared at him before joining him on the bed, the mattress groaning slightly as he settled down. There was silence between them for a few moments, John boring his gaze into Paul's, before he spoke again.
"Can I hear the song?"
He waited, holding his breath, for Paul's answer.
"Okay." Paul eventually conceded. He placed the notebook down and got up to get his guitar which was leaning on the wall below the window before sitting back on the bed. John watched him intently as the younger boy cleared his throat, hands slightly shaky as he settled them in the positions needed in order to play - Paul's eyes flitted up to him for a moment, and when John sent him an encouraging smile, he smiled back. With that, he began to play.
It was a soft, tranquil song; at first, Paul was nervous, his gaze constantly flitting back to John and sometimes missing a chord or clumsily hitting the wrong one, but eventually he got into the groove of it and by the end of it was singing comfortably, completely lost in it except for when he sent John shy smiles. The auburn-haired boy stared at him the whole time, dumbstruck, hardly able to believe that a single person could be this damn talented and attractive and amazing all at the same time. He didn't even care that it wasn't rock 'n' roll or fast. Just the fact that Paul wrote it..
Eventually the song was finished, and John was left sitting there, blinking, before he finally was able to force his mouth to form words.
"That... Jesus." John chuckled, shaking his head a little. "You just have to be endlessly talented, don't you?"
Paul tilted his head, clearly embarrassed but pleased at the praise before he gently put his guitar aside. There was silence for a few seconds before he lifted his gaze to meet John's, looking serious.
"I wrote it for you, y'know."
John froze, brows furrowing. He really wrote a song.. for him? He felt his cheeks burn beet red. He had no idea how to react to that, to be perfectly honest.
"Really?" He couldn't help but ask, ever doubtful about any praise or positive thing said about him.
"It's obvious, John, what with the male pronouns and all." Paul rolled his eyes, though his lips quirked up in a fond smile. They fell into quiet again, this time their gazes permanently locked together - John scooted forward until they were only inches away, reaching out a hesitant hand that snaked around Paul's elbow, the other just above his knee. Paul's lips parted subconsciously at the touch, and John leant forward a bit until he could feel the younger boy's breath on his lips. His heart was racing, hands tingling under the touch of Paul, and his tongue nervously darted out to lick his lips before he spoke.
"Is this okay?" His voice came out quiet, slightly husky, hazelnut eyes flecked with emerald so bright and the smell of rain and fresh soap, Paul's breath smelling of smoke and mint, filling his thoughts until there was nothing left but Paul Paul Paul; he watched as the raven-haired boy nodded fervently, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. John took the consent gladly, snaking up his hand from Paul's elbow to his cup his cheek before he captured his lips in a kiss. It was soft, tentative and slightly apprehensive at first, as if riding a bike again after a few years of no practice - but it soon grew more intense as Paul carded one hand through John's damp hair and the other gripped his hip. He slowly guided him onto his back, the bed creaking under the weight, not breaking the kiss for even one moment as he he hovered over him, knees against the older boy's thighs, and John could barely breathe-
Paul was the first one to break contact. John's eyes fluttered open to be met with the sight of a tousled Paul McCartney with reddened lips and half-lidded eyes; his breath hitched when the younger boy slid his hand into John's trouser pocket and took out his Buddy Holly glasses, gently placing them on his face - the auburn-haired boy blinked as his vision cleared, watching as Paul placed a hand on his chest, still gazing at him with such an intensity that he felt like he was completely exposed.
"You look better with them on."
John felt himself grinning shyly at the attention he was receiving; Paul grinned back, then his hand snaked back under John's head and kissed him again. There was something different in those moments, like something new was taking place - the younger boy broke the kiss only for a moment to take his school jumper off, and John watched with wide eyes and an apprehensive beating heart as he shedded his tie as well. They shared a shy giggle between them when Paul caught John watching him, and the older boy sat up and mouthed at Paul's neck and jawline softly, making his breath hitch before the younger began to undo John's shirt buttons, revealing more and more pale skin with each one. This was new territory they were facing, something that they'd both experienced before but not with each other - John could feel the electricity sparking between them, could feel Paul's anxiety with the way his hands shook and his breath was short and rapid as they continued to kiss. But he knew that it was okay, because it was with each other; that they could take it at any pace they needed to. But, as Paul traced John's collarbone and began to slide his hand down John's now bare chest, there was a slam that nearly made them jump out their skins and have a heart attack right then and there.
"Fuck!" Paul blurted, and John agreed with his own muttered curse before the younger boy leapt off of him and hurriedly began to dress himself again - the auburn-haired boy got to hastily pulling back on his shirt and doing it up as they listened to the commotion downstairs. Unmistakably, Jim had arrived home, and they could both hear him conversing with Mike before his voice was raised to a shout.
"Paul? You home?"
"Uhm- yeah!" Paul yelled back, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "J-just upstairs!"
There were footsteps coming closer. Paul quickly shut his book and shoved it into the drawers below his desk when Jim opened the bedroom door, John hoping to god that he had made himself look like he hadn't just been snogging the life out of Jim McCartney's son.
"Oh." Was the first thing that came out of Jim's mouth, upon seeing John sitting on Paul's bed and pretending to idly strum on his guitar.
"Aye, da'." Paul spoke from where he was leaning against his desk, successful in looking normal.
Jim stared at John with furrowed brows for a few seconds longer before he turned to his son.
"Hello, Paul." He nodded to the older boy. "John."
"Hello, Mr McCartney." John greeted him as politely as he possibly could.
"Have a good day at school?" He asked Paul.
"Yeah, it was fine." He shrugged.
"How'd the assignment go?"
"It-it was good. Gettin' me results at the end of the week."
Jim nodded, pausing as he gazed flitted between both boys before he seemed to have made up his mind and he stepped away.
"Well, you two have fun." With that, he walked out, shutting the door after himself - they both listened with breath they didn't even know they were holding as his footsteps faded down the hallway before simultaneously sighing in utter, complete relief. There was silence for a moment before Paul, strangely, started to laugh.
"What?" John turned to him, watching him with an expression that screamed "are you insane?", but Paul continued to laugh like crazy, leaning on his knees as he tried to breathe but kept laughing anyway. John, utterly bewildered as to what was going on, started to chuckle a little himself, if not at Paul acting so odd.
"I-I dunno!" He giggled, tears coming to his eyes as he struggled to calm himself down. "Just.." He snorted, holding a hand over his mouth before he forced himself to whisper. "The fact that we were bloody snoggin' like no one's business, then when dad comes home, we sit there and pretend nothin' was happening at all!"
John barked a laugh himself.
"I know. I thought Jim was gonna tell me to piss off and stop kissing his son or somethin'."
Paul rolled his eyes.
"He's not that bad. Just.. strict, I guess." He opened one of his desk drawers and rummaged through it, emerging with a cigarette and lighter before sitting down on the bed, toying with them in his hands. John wondered what could've happened if they hadn't been interrupted.. were they about to go further than they ever had before? John's cheeks flushed at the thought. They hadn't really done anything further than snogging; he hadn't wanted to rush Paul, knowing it was his first time with another guy, and not wanting to be pushy about sexual things either.
He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the present.
"You sure you should smoke in here?" He furrowed his brows, nodding his head in the direction of the cig in Paul's hands. "Does Jim know?"
"No. And I'll just blame you." The younger boy grinned, putting it between his lips, about to light it - John swiftly prised both it and the lighter out of his grasp and put them back in the drawers, ignoring his protests.
"I'm not riskin' you gettin' caught, Macca." John spun around, giving Paul a slightly stern look before he turned back to look out the window.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
"Keep rolling your eyes and they'll get stuck."
"How'd you know?" Paul asked incredulously.
"I know everything, dear child." John turned around, putting on a mystical voice as he strutted with a joking sexy smirk over to the bed, making Paul start laughing again.
"Shut up. You're an idiot."
John grinned evilly, crawling onto the bed and forcing Paul onto his back as he hovered over him, the latter giggling giddily with bright pink cheeks as he gazed at him.
"You're still snogging this idiot."
Paul raised his eyebrows, though he gathered a fistful of John's shirt in his hand, pulling their chests flush against each other.
"I might stop snoggin' him soon if he keeps this up."
John leant down, still grinning madly with his heart thudding crazily in his ears; he muttered against Paul's lips:
"Well, that would just be a darn diddly shame, wouldn't it?"
With that, he kissed him again. A terrified but thrilled shiver travelled up his spine when Paul's hand snuck up his shirt and traced his shoulder blades which flexed involuntarily at the touch. But, again, their plans were foiled when they heard Jim and Mike talking, coming closer before passing by Paul's room. It was too risky for them to do anything with both of them present, and an idea formed in John's mind.
"Continue this tonight?" He whispered against Paul's lips.
Paul nodded, breathless as he gazed up at him before they shared one last kiss.
"Be back at midnight."
John went home that night, feeling as if he truly was on top of the world, an excitement so intense, more than he'd ever felt before, buzzing in his veins at the thought of coming back in the dead of night to continue what they'd started. He'd just have to wait until then.