It was nearly three when Paul woke up. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at John who stood up and strode over to Paul, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stroking his hair.
"Ow," he hissed.
"What's wrong?"
"My - my head is killing me," Paul said groggily.
"Alright," John nodded. "It's okay.... Hey, Paul?"
"Hm?"
"Why are you suddenly having nightmares about your dad again? He's been dead for over three years."
"No," Paul whined.
"He's dead, Paul. He's not coming for you."
"No," Paul repeated.
"Paul, I - "
"No!" Paul shouted. "I don't want to talk about it! I can't talk about it.... I can't.... I just can't...."
"Paulie,"
"No!!" Paul buried his head beneath in pillows and he began to sob. Full out sob. His body was shaking and his tears flowed like water falls. "I - I can't do this again! I'm sick of letting him control my life and - ruin it! He's d-dead and I'm I'm sti-still terrified of him!!"
"Sshhh," John continued to stroke Paul's hair. "Very thing is going to be fine. Everything is going to be okay."
Paul continued to sob. "Please, John.... Help me..."
John frowned.
"Make it stop...."
The older Beatle's heart shattered right then and there. He wanted to cry. Paul looked so helpless and though John knew that Paul was anything but, he also knew Paul needed his help right now....
"Make it stop, John, just make it stop."
....and he couldn't do what Paul needed him to do.
John sighed. "Oh yeah, I'll tell you something
I think you'll understand
When I'll say that something
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand,"
The younger man attempted to choke back his sobs, but he was rather unsuccessful.
"Oh please, say to me
You'll let me be your man
And please, say to me
You'll let me hold your hand
I'll let me hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand."
Paul slowly sat about and wrapped his arms around John. He buried his face in the crook of John's neck and the older man' auburn hair tickled his forehead.
"And when I touch you," Paul croaked.
"I feel happy... Inside."
"It's such a feeling that, my love," John joined in again.
"I can't hide
I can't hide
I can't hide."
John smiled and held Paul against his body. "I love you so much,"
"I love you more," Paul murmured against John's shoulder.
John chuckled and shook his head slowly, rubbing his hands up and down Paul's spine. "Not a chance, McCartney."
Paul pulled his face away from the crook of John's neck and stared deep into his eyes. He brushed his nose against John's and placed his hands on the back of his neck. "Promise you won't ever leave me,"
"What?" John furrowed his brows.
"Promise me that you won't ever leave me," Paul repeated in a pleading tone. "Not for music or life or...or for someone else. Never leave me, John, because I wouldn't be able to bare it. I won't... I don't thing I could ever go on without you... Not knowing that you left me..."
"Paulie," John breathed. "Oh, Paulie Paulie Paulie. I am never never never ever going to leave you, you hear me? I'm yours and you're mine and that's how it's going to be... Until the end of time."
Paul smirked ever so slightly. "That'd make a good song,"
John laughed. "Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?"
"I love you," Paul placed his forehead on John's shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you.... I just don't know..."
John kissed the top of Paul's head. "Ditto,"
Paul laughed. "Always the romantic, John."
"I'm serious, Paul." John pulled away from the hug and held Paul's shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Without you, I'm just a selfish asshole with a guitar. The man hiding behind the glasses and the music and.... I'm just the one who keeps giving the whole world the middle finger without really meaning to... You complete me, Paulie... You make me better... You make me whole."
Paul shook his head, and smile appearing on his lips. His eyes were still red and puffy. "You're not an asshole, John. You're just misunderstood.."
"I don't want to be misunderstood," John frowned. "I don't want people to look at me and think, 'wow, that ones a mystery... And what an asshole'. And you never have, you know that? You've gotten me from day one." John laughed. "From the minute I started teasing you and all you did was roll your eyes."
With a laugh, Paul's face broke into a grin. "I remember that day. And, I'll have you know, I remember that day in scarily vivid detail."
John laughed.
"I play too, you know." Paul said.
"What?" John smirked, cocking one eyebrow. "With yourself?"
"You wish," Paul breathed in John's ear.
"Oh, you gave no idea..." John growled huskily, then his lips quieted into a smug grin. "I do."
"You do what?"
"Play with myself, all the time." John continued with the reenactment of the day the two of them first met. "Good for the wrists muscles.... I'm John."
Paul smiled. "Paul," he eyed the older man's lips.
"C'mere," John pulled Paul to the die of the bed then dragged him to his feet and shoved him against the wall. He held the dark haired boy's hands above his head. "Do you remember our first kiss?"
"Yes," Paul nodded. "It went a little something like this..." Paul leaned forward as far as his trapped position would allow and crashed his lips into John's, moving lovingly with his partner's.
When their lips parted, they both gasped for air. John pressed his forehead against Paul's and grinned mischievously. "Do you remember the first time we made love?"
"It was only a few weeks ago," Paul frowned. "Of course I do.
John raised one eyebrow suggestively.
"Oh," Paul caught on. "Ooooh.... Yes, I remember."
"Would you like to reenact that night?"
Paul inhaled deeply. "Very much so," he nodded.
So, with his arms wrapped around Paul's waist, he pulled the bassist over to the bed and laid him down gently and straddled his hips. John kissed Paul sensually before his slowly moved his lips to the younger boy's jawline. He nipped at the skin there before he finally moved to Paul's neck.
"I love you so much, Macca." John breathed against his throat.
And then he began to use his teeth and his lips and his tongue and Paul moaned lowly.
"J-John," Paul managed. "John, if you - if you leave a hi-hickey there, Eppy will - he'll kill m- fuck, John, yes!"
John planted a kiss on the red and purple spot on Paul's throat and smiled a hungered smile. "Screw what Eppy thinks. Screw what everyone thinks. I love you... You're mine."
"What if we get caught?" Paul asked. "What if Eppy or George or Ringo walk in while we're...playing?"
John moved somehow closer, dangerlously closer, grabbing Paul's wrist. "That's the fun part, Paulie. The rush of getting caught drives me wild."
~~~
Paul and John were huddled together, tangled in all limbs and sheets.
"We should go meet up with George and Ringo and get some supper," Paul said, resting his head on John's shoulders.
"Nah," John laughed. "They're probably too busy shagging in their room to go and get food."
Paul smiled.
"Or. at least, George wishes." John smirked.
"Seriously, I'm starved." Paul peeled the covers off of his body and began to slowly dress himself.
"You have to watch out," John said seductively.
"What do you mean?" Paul raised one eyebrow as he buttoned his jacket and pulled the collar of his dress shirt up to hide the mark John had given him during their little...session.
"You... Standing there... Sloooowly dressing yourself," John stared at Paul with lidded eyes and dilated pupils. "Honestly? It is taking all of my self control not to come over there and rip every well placed stitch from your delicious body... And throw you back down on this bed and do such.... Dirty things to you. It makes me want to fuck you until you can't see straight and until you can't walk for days..."
"All of your self control?" Paul asked, seeming amused.
John nodded. "Be warned... I will not always be so indulgent."
Paul smiled. "Horny bastard,"
"I've been called worse," John shrugged his shoulders.
~~~
That night, John was sitting beside Paul... Waiting for the nightmares.
And then they came. But they weren't the same as the nigh before.
"Mum..." Paul frowned in his sleep.
John looked over at him and mirrored his frown. What was going on? How was this going to go down....
"It's not my fault.." Paul shook his head slightly. "I never meant to.... Well, why does it matter?! Why does it fucking matter?!... I'm - I'm sorry... I'm sorry!... I know...it's wrong... I know!!"
John shook his head.
Paul was a wreck. He was sobbing. "I'm sorry, mum...I'M SORRY!"
John knew all too well what Paul was apologizing to his mother for. "Paul," he shook his shoulders vigorously. "Paul, you've got to wake up now. Paul!! PAULIE!! PAUL. WAKE. UP."
Paul jolted into consciousness and latched onto John. And he just sobbed and held onto John... Because that's what he needed when he woke up from a nightmare...
Then again, he needed John in general.
~~~
Before the Beatles knew what had hit them, it was April of 1964. They had gone to America for the first time and were still there, nearing the end of their first American tour. They had been signed for a movie to go with their newest album which was to be released in May, A Hard Day's Night.
One day, late in April just after they returned to England, the Beatles were in a private room in a hotel eating breakfast with Brian. A maid came in and poured tea. "The morning paper, sirs." She handed it over to John then left the room.
John took a sip of his tea and began reading the front large of the paper.
A few moments later, the four other men sitting around the table with John witnessed him quite nearly spit out his tea, then choke on it, then gulp it down with a pained expression.
"What's wrong, John?" Paul felt his heart skip a beat.
"I'll fucking kill them!!" John shouted and threw the newspaper down on the table.
George was the first one to snatch it up. "What the hell!"
Ringo peaked over George's shoulder and gaped at the paper.
"What is it?" Brian furrowed his brows.
John shot Brian a frown, clenching his jaw. "The media has now moved in from us. They're attacking you now."
Brian closed his eyes as if a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
Paul walked up behind George and read the headline on the front page of the morning newspaper and he quickly slapped a hand to his mouth, then slowly dragged it away. "Oh my God," he murmured.
George threw the paper back down and Brian saw the bold letters printed across the top of the page...
'BEATLES MANAGER BRIAN EPSTEIN....QUEER?'
"Boys.." Brian gulped.
"They have no reason to be making false accusations!" John shouted angrily.
"It's not a false accusation!" Brian replied shakily. "I...I didn't want to tell you because....well, it's illegal and all and...I should have told you. I - I am so sorry, boys. If you want to - why are you all looking at me like that?"
Ringo looked a little shell shocked while George, Paul, and John were smiling warmly at their manager.
"You thought we'd care?" Paul almost laughed. "You thought we'd - what? Drop you? Find a new manager?"
"Well, I - " Brian licked his lips nervously. "You - you don't care?"
"No we bloody well don't," John said.
George looked at Brian as if he had to be inane to think such a thing and Ringo, while still a bit bothered by the idea (unlike Paul, John, and George), managed a silent but firm nod.
"I - oh my goodness - " Brian broke down in sobs.
"Hey," George hurried around the table and patted Brian on the shoulder. "Hey, it's alright, Bri."
John frowned. "Eppy, it's fine. We really don't care what you are."
"You're a good person, Brian." Ringo smiled. "That's all that matters."
Paul smiled warmly and reached across the table. He grasped Brian's hand tightly in his own as the oldest man in the room continued to sob. "It's okay, Eppy. Everything is going to be okay."
Brian looked up through tears at the band and managed a watery smile. "Thank you. Thank you - you all s-so mu-much!!" He choked out.
John smiled, but it wasn't directed at Brian. It was directed at Paul. He nodded toward the door and Paul nodded in agreement.
"I'm done eating," said John.
"Me, too." Paul said and followed John out of the room.
Once in their room, Paul closed the door behind himself and John spun around back Paul up against the closed door. "That was some good advice we were giving Brian in there,"
"What do you mean?"
"It's all going to be okay, and you're a good person...that's all that matters. And Paul, my love, you're the best person I know."
"John, what are you on about?"
John cupped Paul's face. "I know you don't want to talk about the nightmares you've been having, but it's been over a year and it's just back and forth. Sometimes it's your dad beating you senseless and sometimes you're telling your mum that it's not your fault and you know it's wrong and you're sorry that you've let her down...."
Paul frowned. "I don't want to talk about it..."
"We need to talk about it," John said firmly. "Listen to me, Paulie. Your father is dead, he isn't coming back for you. And you don't have to marry a woman and settle down and raise a family to make your mum proud. Wherever she is, I'm sure she's extremely proud of you and if she isn't...well, I'm proud enough for the whole world."
The doe eyed younger Beatle stared at his lover through big, round, glossy, sad brown eyes for a solid minute before he flung his arms around John's neck and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Johnny." He breathed.