Author's Note: So I've done something that might be kind of dumb, but whatever I'm going for it. I have created a TikTok account entirely dedicated to this story and I exclusively post videos that joke about this fanfiction. I personally think it's hysterical and would greatly appreciate if you go check it out. I am TikTok user @ bmomt !! (Additionally, if any of y'all wanna make funny/cute/serious/meme TikToks about Break Me One More Time, go for it! And make sure you use the hashtag #bmomt and tag me @ bmomt so that I can check it out.)
***
Barney and Paul stood opposite one another in Paul's kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. Paul sighed as he finished recounting the story of the night before, of everything that Roger and Deaky had told him, Yoko, and George.
"Well, shit," Barney said. "You're sure John and Ringo didn't overhear any of this? Or, for that matter, Freddie and Brian?"
"Yeah," Paul said, nodding. "George went to distract them."
"And Roger and John have got no idea how they got here?" Barney asked.
"None at all," Paul said, shaking his head.
"Are you sure they weren't lying to you?" Barney asked, eyebrows raised.
"I mean, I'm pretty sure," Paul said. "They both seemed really shaken up about the whole thing."
Barney sighed. "Yeah, I just... I don't know how we can be sure we can trust them."
"We could bring them in and talk to them, perhaps?" Paul suggested.
"We don't want them to know about the Unknowables if they can't be trusted, though," Barney said.
"But if they're out here all on their own and they do need someone to explain what's going on then we need to be those people," Paul said. "We want them on our side. We need as many people as we can get on our side."
"Yes, but only if we can really trust them," Barney said.
"Well, how are we gonna figure that out?" Paul asked.
Barney sighed. "I think we're going to have to have a meeting."
"A meeting?" said Paul. "When?"
"Now."
***
"Hello, Mr. McCartney," said Darren, the leader of the Unknowables. "Mr. Harrsion, Miss Ono. Thank you for coming in on such short notice."
They all nodded, murmuring things that all fell somewhere along the lines of, "Of course" and "No problem".
"Right this way," said Darren. "We're gonna be talking with a few of our team members." He led them into a room that was just a little bit smaller than the one they had been brought to initially. There, at the head of the long table that took up a lot of that room's space, was Marbella Giasson.
She looked up from the countless folders spaced out before her. She smiled, amused. "Hello, Paul. Nice to see you again."
Paul crossed his arms. "Mhm," he huffed out tightly.
"Who —" George began, frowning, looking back and forth between Paul and Marbella. "Who's she?"
"The President of the Shadows," Paul bit out.
"What?!" George cried.
"Former President of the Shadows, Paul," Marbella sighed. "I'm on your side now, remember."
"Whatever," Paul snapped. "Doesn't change the fact that last time we met you strapped me down and hooked me up to a machine that dug through my memories and gave them right to you. Doesn't change the fact that you want John dead —"
"I have agreed to the Unknowables' terms of the Shadows becoming their allies," Marbella said. "One of those terms is that John Lennon shall live. You have nothing to fear."
"But you still want him dead!" Paul exclaimed.
"I don't want him dead," Marbella said. "I just believe that he should die, there's a difference."
"Is there?" Yoko said before Paul got the chance.
Marbella looked to her, one eyebrow arched. "Yes. He is meant to die because that it what was determined by the universe, by fate. But we let some things go for the greater good. So John Lennon will live and I will learn to be okay with that. And you will have to learn to work with me, Paul, if you want to get anywhere."
"Bare with us for today," Darren said. "Please."
Paul sighed, but he took a seat at the table. Yoko and George followed suit.
There were a couple people who Paul figured were of the original Unknowables team as they stuck near Darren, and there were a few people who he figured were former Shadows as they were sat closer to Marbella's end of the table. Barney was there too, sitting by Paul, George, and Yoko.
"Alright, so here's the deal," Marbella said. "We put all of the files that we've taken from the F.H.O. and put them through a filtering system so that we could look at any files that included the names Roger Taylor and John Deacon, and we added Brian May, Freddie Mercury, and the band name Queen in there for good measure. As you can see," she paused to gesture to all of the papers laid out before her, "we found quite a lot."
"More than we were expecting to find," Darren noted.
"It appears that they've taken John Deacon and Roger Taylor both from the year 2019," said Marbella, "and they have placed them in the year 1974. According to all of their files on this case, however, it doesn't appear as if they plan to contact them until December ninth of 1980."
"That's... suspicious," Yoko said, while Paul had frozen completely.
"We think so, as well," said Barney. "We thought at first that it might be that the F.H.O. is waiting until the Lennon Case is resolved to move onto whatever this case with Deacon and Taylor may be, but that doesn't really make sense. There are so many case advisors working for the F.H.O., all of which are allowed to be placed onto more than one case at a time. Additionally, they have no guarantee that the Lennon Case will be a success — no offense — so what's the point in waiting?"
"Right," Yoko said, nodding. "Okay. So... what, then?"
"Well, that's all we've come up with," said Darren.
"You don't know why they've brought them into their past?" George asked, eyebrows raised.
"Well, no," said Darren. "We can't see why they're waiting so long to contact them. And it wasn't a mistake, it was definitely that they were deliberately placed in 1974 because their placement date is stated over and over again within the files. And then their contact date, December ninth, 1980, is also stated repeatedly."
"Do we know why they were brought back from 2019?" Yoko asked. "Are they meant to keep Freddie Mercury from dying?"
"As far as we can see, there is no reason at all for them to be where they are," Marbella said. "And, in fact, while the names Roger Taylor and John Deacon came up a lot, and the band name Queen came up quite a bit, and Brian May popped up a few times here and there, Freddie Mercury was only mentioned, I believe, twice."
"F-F-Freddie's going to die?" George stammered.
Paul looked to him with wide eyes, unfreezing for the first time since Marbella had said "December ninth of 1980".
"Oh, shit," Marbella sighed.
"This is why he shouldn't be allowed at meetings like this," said one of the girls who was sitting near Darren.
"Lola," Darren sighed.
"Freddie's — going — to — die?!" George cried.
"I'm going to have to ask you to discuss this at a later time with Paul and Yoko," Marbella said. "Here are our options moving forward."
George was still looking distraught, staring down at his hands. Paul, on the other, seemed engaged once again, having been pulled back out of his thoughts.
Marbella looked up at Paul, Yoko, and George. "We could eliminate them —"
"NO!" George cried, appearing to be in even more distress now than he had been before Marbella spoke.
"What?!" Yoko exclaimed.
"Are you crazy?!" Paul yelled. "No!"
"We'll not be going down that route," Darren sighed. "Marbella, we've already discussed —"
Marbella sighed. "We could try and recruit them, try to convince them to work with us before the F.H.O. ever gets to them, or we could also just leave them alone completely."
"Leave them alone?" Yoko said. "Sounds more like leaving them defenseless."
"Not if we take down the F.H.O.," Marbella said pointedly.
"Exactly," said Paul. "If."
"We could use all the help we can get," Darren said. "That's what I think."
"And I think they've got a right to know what's really going on," Paul said. "Instead of letting them wander about for the next six years without a clue about what's going on, and then if we've not been able to take down the F.H.O. we, what? Let the F.H.O. feed them lies?"
"We've also got other fish to fry," said Darren. "Let us just remind ourselves of that."
"Why? What else is going on?" George frowned.
"The F.H.O. has documents regarding the activity of the Shadows over the past several years," said Marbella. "They have a documented recording of us attempting to recruit Stuart Sutcliffe to help kill John Lennon."
Paul frowned. "Yeah, I... Stuart and I talked about that. God, that was years ago."
"Are you telling me," George said, taking long, deep breaths, "that Stu is also from the future?!"
"No, well — I'll explain later," Paul sighed, then turned back to Marbella. "So what's the big deal about that? He said no."
"Yes," Marbella said. "We're not worried about Stuart, we're mildly concerned with the fact that F.H.O. is watching the Shadows so closely. We're not sure how they're doing so, and we're looking into the possibility that they have knowledge about the Unknowables, as well."
"Do — do you think they might?" Paul asked, panicked.
"We highly doubt that's the case," said Marbella.
"We'd all be dead if they knew, wouldn't we?" George asked.
"In the White Room, more likely, but you've got the right idea," Barney sighed.
"This may also mean that we will be able to keep an eye on what the Shadows are doing now," said Marbella. "If the F.H.O. continues to collect this data, however they're collecting it, and they put it into their system, which we will continue to take from, then we can see what they're up to."
"Unless the traitor followed you here," said Yoko.
"We don't know that there's a traitor," Marbella said.
"But there must be either a traitor or a spy," said Paul. "Either way, someone was there with you, listening in. So the F.H.O. must know about the Unknowables now."
"Not necessarily," Marbella said, shaking her head. "I didn't share everything with everybody, you know."
Paul frowned.
"All of that isn't really what you need to be worried about," Marbella said. "That is not your job. Right now, all we need to know at the end of the day is where you stand on the Deacon and Taylor debacle. Place your votes now and they will be counted with those from the rest of the organization."
"They should be brought in," Paul said firmly.
"Yes," Yoko agreed. "They can't just be left hanging for six years. Recruit them."
"Yeah, I'm with Paul and Yoko," George said.
"Right, then," Marbella said. "You'll go back home now, and we'll see what happens."
***
The Unknowables did not inform Paul, Yoko, and George of the conclusion that their vote brought them to. Paul was just calling Roger, it was the middle of December and Roger had told him that he should call him when the European/United Kingdom leg of their tour had ended, to see if Queen would be up for doing a song on the Beatles' collaborative album, but instead he was hit with a long winded conversation about the Unknowables and all of the things that he and Deaky had learned when they were brought to the Unknowables' headquarters to be brought onboard the team.
"Would we be able to talk more with you?" Roger asked. "Me and John, I mean, because they explained it all but you've actually been living it and —"
Paul invited Roger and Deaky, as well and Freddie and Brian, to the Christmas party that he and John were to be hosting a little later in the month under the guise of discussing whether Queen was to be featured on the Beatles' collaborative album ("Which I actually do wanna talk about," Paul told Roger, "let's not go and forget about that, I do want to get you guys involved with this project. It's going to be a really cool album.") so that John, Ringo, Brian, and Freddie didn't grow suspicious about why they were all going to hang out all of a sudden.
There were a lot of people involved in show business who were coming to Paul and John's party, actually. Something big that had come out of working with David Bowie was that they learned about all the assumptions that were being made within the music industry, mainly in relation to Paul as everyone seemed to assume that John was married. But they figured that if people were going to assume things anyway, and they weren't going to get upset about it, then why hide it within that community of people? Obviously the public wouldn't be quite as welcoming, but this was different than making it all public.
"I'm home!" Paul called into the house, the day before their big Christmas celebration. Yoko followed closely behind him.
"We're in the sitting room, love!" John called back.
Paul and Yoko slowly made their way into the living room, staggering beneath the weight of all of the bags they were coming back from town with.
"Oh!" Paul exclaimed, dropping the bags to the floor. He hurried across the sitting room to wear John and George were, setting the tree into place. "It's wonderful. Did you go out and cut it down yourselves?"
George snorted. "No, that sounds like a lot of work."
"We found a farm that was selling them," said John.
"A farm," Paul mused. "We should have a farm."
"All the way out here?" John said, raising his eyebrows.
Paul shrugged his shoulders. "Why not? There's nothing else out here. We might as well have something to do."
"You're the one who wanted to move all the way out here!" John exclaimed.
"Hello!" Ringo called as he entered their house.
"Sitting room!" George shouted.
Martha could be heard bounding down the stairs, followed by Ringo's cry of, "Hello, Martha! How are you today?!"
"Ringo, hurry up or we'll start decorating without you!" George yelled.
"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Ringo huffed. "No need to get your knickers in a twist," he said as he entered the room. "Who's coming to this party anyway? We're your only friends."
"Hey, that's not true!" Paul exclaimed, hurt.
"Isn't it, though?" John said,
"We have lots of friends!" Paul cried. "Clearly! Otherwise no one would be coming to our party, but there are people coming to our party! Therefore, lots and lots of friends!"
"Mhm, like who?" Ringo questioned.
"Roger and Deaky," said Paul. "Oh, and Freddie and Brian!"
"Okay, we met them once," said Ringo. "Friends is a bit of a stretch."
"David Bowie," Yoko chimed in.
"Did that one song with him," Ringo said, rolling his eyes. "Again, bit of a stretch to call him a friend, don't you think?"
"I do not like him," John huffed. "And we will never be friends with him."
"I thought you liked Bowie," George said, frowning.
"Yeah, you were all excited to work with him," Ringo said. "What happened there?"
"Seriously," Yoko said.
"Oh, have you not told them?" John huffed.
"Suppose it must've slipped my mind, yes," Paul sighed.
"Oh, like how it slipped your mind to tell me up until very recently?" John asked. "Hm? Sort of like that?"
"John, see, I didn't tell you because I knew that it would upset you," Paul said, sighing again. "Nothing happened! You do believe me, right?"
"Wait, what?" Ringo said.
"Yes, I believe you," John huffed. "Of course, I believe you. The point is that something could have happened!"
"No, nothing could have happened," Paul said, shaking his head. "Because I didn't want anything to happen because I am with you, as you know. As I have been, for thirteen goddamn years and... and..." He trailed off, feeling happy amidst his and John's heated argument, because wow. Over a decade, now. Thirteen whole years, he and John had lasted and, more than that, it looked as if they would continue to last for thirteen more years and far beyond.
"You see," John said, turning to the other three people in the room. "When we were in the recording studio with David Bowie, he made a pass at Paul. He flirted, he attempted to seduce. He wants to sleep with Paul."
"What?!" Ringo exclaimed.
Yoko and George locked eyes for a moment and burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.
"It's not funny!" John bellowed.
"It sort of is, though," Yoko snorted.
"But he — but he —" John grew angrier with every breath.
"Well, Paul clearly didn't sleep with him," George said. "He never would. He's so disgustingly in love with you. So what's the point in being mad?"
John frowned. "That's not the —"
"What's so disgusting about it?" Paul asked, pouting.
"Look, John," Ringo sighed. "If you want the world to think that the both of you are single so that the world doesn't think that you're together, and you do, then you've got to know that this is just gonna, like, happen sometimes. I mean, the media thinks you and Yoko are married and you don't see Paul having a fucking anuerism in the middle of our lovely Christmas celebrations."
"Yeah, well, maybe that's because —" John began but he cut himself off.
"Because what?" Yoko raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah, because what?" Paul said, arms crossed.
"Nothing," John huffed. "Never mind. I'm just — I don't feel like decorating anymore," he said, shaking his head. He kicked the string lights for the tree that were laying at his feet to the side and stormed out of the room.
"What... just happened here?" Ringo asked, puzzled.
"No idea," George said, mouth hanging open. "It was... a lot though."
"That was, um," Yoko said, frowning, "peculiar."
"Very," Paul agreed, staring at the spot where John had been standing a few moments ago, lost deep in his thoughts.
"You okay, Paul?" George asked, frowning.
"Yeah, fine..." Paul said. "I... I... Let's just get the decorating done for tomorrow, yeah?"
Yoko nodded. "Yeah, yeah... good idea," she said. "Alright, we'll get to work, yeah?"
Paul just nodded. He picked up the string lights from the floor and set to work untangling them.
"Paul, you..." George began, frowning. "You know, you could've told us about Bowie. We know you'd never do anything to hurt or, like, betray John."
Paul shook his head, sniffling.
"Did," Ringo began, then paused, frowned deeply, "did Bowie, like, attack you? Did he force you to do something or —"
"No!" Paul huffed. "Oh my god, nothing happened! Nothing happened! John's just — John's just jealous. He's just John. And I — I'd really rather if we could just not talk about any of this, please —"
"Of course, Paul," Yoko said, staring daggers at both George and Ringo. "We'll stop talking about it right now," she said through gritted teeth.
George and Ringo exchanged a glance, but they looked back to Yoko and nodded quickly then set to work on the decorations.
***
The party was in full swing and the Lennon/McCartney household had never seen matters as tense as they were now. Sure, Paul and John had the average row from time to time, but this was something else. It had now been over twenty four hours since either of them had said a word to the other.
The guest list was extensive. Ringo, George, and Yoko, for starters, were obviously there at the party; Maureen was there and she'd brought Lee along with her; although George had said that he thought Pattie might not come, she was there; George Martin was, of course, there; any and all staff members who had worked at Abbey Road Studios in the past several years were invited and the vast majority of them had accepted the invitation; Billy Joel and his wife, Elizabeth; Elton John, who the Beatles were going to record a song with very soon; Paul Simon; Carole King, another artist who the Beatles were trying to win over and convince to record a song for their collaborative album; Elvis Presley (whom John had extended an invitation to as joke, thinking that he surely wouldn't attend as they had only met him that one time about ten years previous) was there; all of the Rolling Stones; the entirety of The Who; Bob Dylan; Roger Taylor, John Deacon, Freddie Mercury, and Brian May were all there, Paul had made sure of that; and, much to John's disdain, David Bowie was indeed in attendance.
"Paul!" Roger cried, rushing up to him. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"You found me," Paul said and he smiled. "What can I do for you?"
"Can we talk to you alone for a minute?" Roger asked.
"Um, who's we?" Paul questioned.
Roger's brow creased, confused. "What do you —" he looked to his right side and his eyes grew wide. "Wha— ?! John! Deaky?!" He turned around and around himself, searching for his friend and bandmate, but to no avail. "Dammit, where the hell did he go?"
"Don't worry about it," Paul said. "Let's go talk and you can fill him in later?"
"Yeah, let's get this over with," Roger sighed.
"Right this way," Paul said, weaving his way between the crowd of guests and up the stairs. He led Roger into a guest room, closed and locked door behind them, and then turned to him. "Right, so I understand that you've met the Unknowables."
"Yes," Roger said.
"Did you meet my good friend Barney?" Paul asked.
"He's the — the tall one? Blond?" Roger asked. "Thin like a fucking stick?"
"That's the one," Paul said, nodding.
"Good guy," Roger said.
"You've know idea," Paul said, nodding again. "The best. But, so, you've met them. They explained things to you. What do you wanna know from me?"
"We — well —" Roger stopped, frowned. "Actually, we didn't really have a whole load of questions lined up for you. We just — we don't get it. I mean, how do you do it? How do you wake up every day and just — and just —" he paused again, shaking his head. "'Cause Freddie died. Freddie died and it was awful, and it was traumatic, and now he's there every single day and I don't know how to just —"
"Do you want me to tell you the truth?" Paul asked.
"Yes," Roger said, nodding. "Don't sugar coat, just hit me with it."
"The awful truth is that there's nothing you can do but try to find the good in it," said Paul, "and then one day you'll adjust."
"Will we, though?" Roger frowned.
Paul nodded. "Truthfully, yes. You will. I catch myself, every once in a while, living life like life is normal. And I realize that, for a little while, I've forgotten. I've forgotten that I've lived these years before. You'll get there, eventually."
"That's a scary thought," Roger said. "Like, one day I'll forget everything that I got to do and got to live through..."
"You won't forget," Paul said. "Not forever. Just, for a few minutes at a time. And you'll think it odd. And you'll never quite know what to do with yourself. So you just put one foot in front of the other. That's the awful truth, really. The awful truth is that I have no other advice but this, because I haven't figured anything out myself. Not really."
Roger sighed. "Got it. Well, thanks. For all that you can offer, anyway. Sorry to bother you with all this."
"Don't be sorry," Paul said, shaking his head. "Like, hey, I get it. It's... a lot. It never stops being a lot. It's good to have people there who understand." He offered a tight smile and made for the door.
"What was it like being here alone?" Roger asked, his words coming out in a blur of sound because he spoke so quickly.
Paul froze, hand outstretched and inches from the doorknob. "Hm?" he said, turning back to face Roger.
"You didn't have anyone who understood what you were going through for, what? The first four years?" Roger said.
Paul nodded slowly. "Five years," he said. "Yoko, she got here the end of '65. She didn't find me for a few months though."
"What was that like?" Roger said.
Paul frowned and shook his head. "Hold on tight to Deaky and don't worry about it. You don't want to think about it, trust me."
Roger frowned back, but nodded. "Okay. Thanks very everything."
Paul nodded. "Anytime."
"How about that song then?" Roger said. "For your collaborative project of whatever it is?"
"Yeah," Paul said, smiling then. "We're going into the studio with Elton John next month, but after that we're free as birds. We might have finally worked something out with Sinatra, which would be cool, but he's not free until later next year."
"Yeah, we're free starting somewhere around the end of February," said Roger. "But we're also gonna be starting another album."
"We'll squeeze it in somewhere," Paul said. "Promise."
Roger nodded. "Great."
With that, Paul left. He could feel himself falling swiftly, getting trapped in a hole that he found himself inside of far too often. He just got irked by the Everything of it all sometimes, how crazy it all was, how much it all was to take in. So he pushed it away, as always, and just didn't deal with it.
Now's not the time, he'd tell himself. Now's not the time to deal with it, he'd been telling himself for thirteen years.
Paul was in the kitchen and didn't remember his journey from the guest room upstairs to where he was standing.
George came up beside him, drink in hand, and leaned in close to Paul. "John's not looking all too pleased," he commented, nodding to where John was standing at the kitchen counter.
Paul sighed. "Yeah, I guess I'm gonna have to deal with that at some point."
"Have you two not spoken since last night?" George asked, frowning.
"Nope," Paul sighed again.
"Yikes," George said.
Paul and George stood together and watched as John poured himself another drink then pushed his way through the crowded room to the sliding glass door that looked out over the patio. He pulled the door open, stepped outside, pulled it shut, and walked away from the house.
"He's so fucking dramatic," George groaned.
"Yeah," Paul sighed.
George looked at him expectantly.
Paul furrowed his brow. "Well, what's that look for?"
"You need to go after him," George said as if this should be obvious to Paul.
"What?" Paul said. "Why me?"
"Well, you're the one who's married to him!" George huffed with a roll of his eyes.
"So?" Paul said. "We're not talking right now."
"Perfect opportunity to go out there and make up," said George.
Paul frowned. "Why does anyone need to go out after him?"
"Because it's fucking cold out there," George said. "He didn't put a coat on, he just waltzed out into the bitter cold and —"
"That sounds like it's his problem," Paul huffed. "He doesn't have to go and be such a goddamn drama queen."
"Oh my god, Paul," George said. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Seriously, oh my god. You cannot stand here and look me in the face and complain about someone else being a drama queen."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Paul screeched. (He knew exactly what George meant by this as they had had this argument a million times before, a couple times in this lifetime but more so in the one he'd lived before. Somehow, it still got to him.)
"What do you think it means," George huffed.
"I think you're implying that I am a drama queen!" Paul harrumphed.
"Because you fucking are!" George cried.
Paul scoffed. "Am not!"
"Oh, Jesus suffering on the fucking cross, Paul," George groaned. He could hardly believe the words that he was hearing. "Paul, you are! You absolutely are, okay? And so is John. And that's why you two get each other, and that's why you work, and it's also why sometimes you don't work. So get out there, make sure John doesn't freeze himself to the bone, and mend your fucking marriage."
Paul stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.
"Stop being dramatic!" George snapped. "Fucking go after him!"
"Alright, alright!" Paul huffed. He stomped over to the coat rack and yanked his winter coat on, snatched John's jacket up from where it was hanging, then stomped over to the sliding glass door, caring little for the staring eyes that followed him as he went. He stepped out into the bitterly cold December air and groaned, but closed the door behind himself and pushed ahead. His gaze swept across the yard and he spotted John, illuminated by the pool lights. "You couldn't have waited to be pissed at me until springtime? It's bloody cold."
John looked up at him for but a moment, then back at the pool. The surface of the water had turned into a thin layer of ice. "What do you want, Paul?" he asked. He sipped his drink.
"I want you to put a fucking coat on for starters," Paul said, trudging across the yard. He shoved the coat at John.
"Don't need it," John huffed, then sipped his drink again.
"John, I swear to god," Paul said, exasperated. "Put the coat on or get inside."
"You're not my mum," John spat.
Paul scoffed. "What's your problem?"
John looked up at him. "Come again?"
"What was all that about yesterday?" Paul demanded. "I told you what happened with Bowie a week ago. And you know what you did John? You got pissed for like an hour and you shook it off and moved on."
"I didn't move on," John huffed.
"Well, you acted like you did!" Paul cried. "It's not my fault you bottle everything up and —"
"Shut up, Paul," John snapped. "Just shut up."
"I won't!" Paul snapped back. "I will not! John, what the hell is the problem? You really think I'm gonna go and just — what? Just sleep with some other guys after thirteen years —"
"No, Paul, I don't think that," John said. "Just go away. Just leave me alone for five fucking minutes —"
"I've left you alone for the past twenty four hours, John!" Paul yelled.
"Paul," John sighed.
"I love you," Paul said angrily. "Do you not get that? Do you not get that yet?"
"Just because you love me doesn't mean you won't wind up loving someone else, Paul," John snapped at him, turned toward him and stepped closer to him. "That's not the way it works. You don't get to choose."
"But I don't!" Paul screeched. "I don't! I love you and I'm not in love with anyone else — certainly not David Bowie, so what's the problem? Where's the issue? Why are we even having this conversation?"
"You don't?" John asked.
Paul frowned. "John... no, of course not."
"Not even sexy Roger Taylor that you went and disappeared upstairs with?" John huffed.
"John, he wanted to talk about music!" Paul lied. Well, it wasn't that far of a stretch, but Paul wasn't sleeping with him! He just couldn't go telling John that they were up there talking about fucking time travel. "We were talking about the —"
"Not even Yoko?" John spoke through gritted teeth.
Paul was taken aback. He was shocked — so blown away — by this question. He found the idea of what John was insinuating so far out of the realm of possibility that the only thing he could manage to do in response was laugh. He started laughing heartily but soon was consumed in a hysterical fit, doubled over and clutching his stomach.
"It's — it's not funny, Macca..." John said, but he failed to disguise the chuckle creeping its way into his voice.
When Paul was eventually able to swallow his laughter and stand up straight again, he looked at his husband, bewildered. "John, I —" Paul huffed out another laughed, shaking his head. "John, I — no."
"No?" John said, sounding unsure. "Cause a few years ago I — well, anyway I thought — and I've been thinking —"
"For a few years?" Paul said, frowning. "John, you — you could've talked to me."
"Well, I didn't think that you were cheating on me or anything," John said. "I trust you. I just thought that, like, I don't know... you had these feelings and you were just ignoring them, I guess. For my sake, I suppose."
"No," Paul said, shaking his head. "No, absolutely not. Yoko is... great. She's a great friend. But I'm not in love with her. I don't have feelings for her."
"Promise?" John said.
"I promise," Paul said.
John sighed. "Give me my coat, please."
Paul smiled, holding it out to him.
John slipped his arms into the sleeves then stepped ever closer to Paul. He laid his head down on Paul's shoulder. "I've been a dick."
"A bit, yeah," Paul chuckled. He snaked his arms around John's middle. "I guess I haven't helped much. I should've been paying closer attention."
"No," John spoke into Paul's shoulder. "You're perfect."
Paul sighed. "Far from it, actually."
John lifted his head off of Paul's shoulder and looked into his face. "I love you," he said.
"I love you," Paul said, smiling, and he leaned in to kiss John lightly. "We should get back to our party."
"Yeah, we should," John said. "We're good?"
"Always," Paul said.
***
ANOTHER Author's Note: Before I forget! I have a Queen Slash Fic up on my profile NOW! It is called "good old-fashioned lover boys" and it is a Dealor story. I implore you to please go check it out and leave some feedback! Thanks, love you all!