It was around late evening when the two lads finally left the ice cream parlor. John had spent all of his money-- which wasn't very much-- on ice cream sundaes and an ice cream cone, all for Paul. John didn't really want any. Therefore, he let Paul eat all of the ice cream he wanted.
Paul, who was now full of sugar, was all smiles and giggles coming out of the shop. He had chocolate all over his face, and, somehow, he had a bit of whipped cream in his hair. John smiled at the sight, not at all upset about spending his all of his money on his Paulie.
"John, I'm cooold," Paul whined, still giggling a bit. He knew he was a fool for eating all of that ice cream, especially at this time of year.
"And whose fault is that, then? You shouldn't have stuffed your face with all of that frozen dessert, ya fat arse."
"You shouldn't have bought it all for me, then."
"Well you wanted it," John replied. "So, me, being a good boyfriend, I bought it ye."
"Yes, and I appreciate that, but 'm still cold," Paul said, rubbing his arms with his hands in an attempt to warm himself up.
"Here, take me bloody jacket." John took off his leather coat, and draped it over Paul's shoulders. Paul wrapped it around himself tighter, taking in the warmth with a satisfied smile.
They walked on in a comfortable silence. It was very peaceful and relaxing, like there was nothing in the world to worry about. At least, Paul couldn't think of anything to stress over. Except, there was one thing he couldn't get off of his mind. Pete Shotton.
The name sounded vaguely similar. It sounded like a name that had been locked away in a chest and thrown into the sea, never to be seen or spoken of again. But, here it was, gnawing away at Paul's head. Who the hell was he?!
Now, Paul could just ask John who he was. But, John would say "he's just a friend" and be done with it, just like he did the last time.
'Hell, it's worth another shot.'
"So, who exactly is this Shotton lad, anyway?"
"Why do you care so much, Macca? I've told you, he's just an old friend."
Paul sighed, trying to figure out a way to get John to tell him who Pete really was.
"Yes, I know. I mean...which old friend?" Paul tried. John chuckled, deciding on giving Paul a key detail about the mystery friend.
"The blonde pillock."
Paul thought for a moment. He didn't know many people with blonde hair. Most of the blondes he knew weren't even friends with John, though, so this would be easy.
"Do I know him?" Paul wanted to make sure he knew this fellow before playing this little guessing game.
"Oh, yes. I believe you've had a few encounters with him. Very recently, actually."
Recently? The only blonde bloke he's had an encounter with recently was...
No.
No no no no no. It was not him. It couldn't be him. John wouldn't-
Paul stopped walking and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, getting in the way of liverpudlians trying to reach their destination. John stopped walking, too, and turned around to give Paul a befuddled look.
"Is it...is it him?" Paul asked in a sort of whisper. He didn't mean to whisper, it just came out that way.
John knew what he talking about and nodded his head. "Yes."
"You're friends with him?!" John nodded once again, feeling a pang of guilt, but ignored it. "But he hurt me!"
"Paul, can we have this conversation when we get home?"
"No! I want to know why you're friends with that bastard after what he did to me!" Paul wasn't exactly yelling, but instead saying everything in a harsh tone.
"I just bought you ice cream, you can't be mad at me."
"I can, and I will be!" Paul said whilst sassily walking away. John raised his two bushy eyebrows and followed Paul all the way back to his house.
Paul stopped at the front door and turned to John, crossing his arms.
"Goodnight, John."
"Are you really mad?" John asked.
"Yes. I am. Now goodnight." Paul made to turn around and go inside, but John grabbed his wrist and turned him back around.
"He's not such an arsehole once ye get to know him, ya know."
"John, he's pushed me around and called me names for two years. Why are you friends with him?" Paul replied with pleading eyes. He didn't want his Johnny to be friends with Pete. He hurt Paul everyday for two years, maybe even more, and now he was all buddy-buddy with John. Paul did not want that.
"It's a long story, Paulie. But I promise you he will never hurt you again." John reached up and cupped one of Paul's chubby cheeks, looking into his big doe eyes.
"How do you know?"
"He told me. And if he does hurt you again, I'll make sure he can't walk for the rest of his life."
Before Paul could say anymore, John leaned in and kissed him. Paul didn't hesitate and started kissing him back. Electricity shot through his lips and spread all over his body. Paul walked slowly backwards and John had him pressed against the door. He was loving every moment of this.
Johns body seemed to mold perfectly together with Paul's, as if they were made for eachother. Paul ran his fingers through Johns auburn locks, tugging slightly.
"John, someone might see us," Paul whispered, breaking the kiss for a moment. John smirked.
"Let 'em watch."
He connected their lips again, and let his hands roam Paul's body. He licked at the younger lads bottom lip, asking for entrance, in which Paul complied. Johns tongue massaged Paul's, making a small moan escape his mouth.
Paul grabbed John's hips, pulling him impossibly closer. They were now pressed against the door with no space in between them. And yet, they wanted to be closer. But any chance of that was destroyed when the door flung open. The two lovebirds fell inside the house; John on top of Paul.
They both looked up to see Paul's younger brother Mike. He was standing there awkwardly with questioning eyes. John was the first to speak (as always) and break the awkward silence.
"'Ello there, Ricky. Just dropping in. Quite literally, actually." He offered a cheeky grin, and climbed off of Paul, who was flushed a brilliant red color.
"Ha! I knew it! You two are queer!" Mike said, a little too enthusiastically.
Paul stood up and dusted off his shirt. He hastily gave John his coat back and shut the door.
"Where's da'?"
"He has to work late tonight," Mike answered. "'M just waiting for me friend to come get me, then I'm sleeping at his house," he added.
"Perfect,"John smiled, looking straight at his boyfriend. Paul's cheeks turned red once again. Mike's eyes widened as he looked from John to Paul, realizing what that meant.
"Anyone wan' a drink?" Paul asked quickly, in an attempt to change the subject.
"I'll take tea," John said. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, to which John answered it.
"Yes?" he asked, examining the strange bloke standing on the door step.
"Is Mike 'ere?" the lad asked.
"No," John replied flatly. He was about the close the door, but was stopped by a very irritated Mike.
"That's my friend. Bye, Paul." Mike walked out to his friend down the stairs, heading to wherever they were going.
John closed the door and turned to Paul, with a mischievous smirk on his face.
"Now where were we?" John said, walking slowly over to Paul.
"I believe I was going to make tea.." Paul answered quietly.
"Mm, no. I think we were somewhere around...here." John picked Paul up, and carried him up to the bedroom.
Let's just say they did a little more than sleep that night.
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I don't know how to write kissing scenes, so I apologize for that.
Also, I've been dragging out this story forever, and I think I'm going to end it (finally) soon.
BUT DID YOU WATCH JOHNS BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE LAST NIGHT? IT WAS SO GOOD I CRIED.