hiya x

It had been a while since they had last seen each other. Over a year. But that didn't mean anything. As John watched him talk animatedly about going on tour with his wife, he knew. He knew that he was still in love with his best friend.

Before he can let his mind wander too far, he switches the channel, slumping back against the sofa with a sigh. He stares blankly at the tv, his mind elsewhere. His body is stretched out over the couch cushions, holding a half smoked blunt in between his fingers.

Yoko and Sean were currently away for the week, leaving him to his own devices. Usually, he would spend his day looking after Sean while Yoko dealt with business affairs in the office downstairs. A proper 'stay at home' husband as he liked to call himself. His life consisted of changing nappies, heating up milk and baking bread, which he was starting to get the hang of. He had made a new loaf this morning, taking a picture of it before he put it in the oven just a minute ago.

He sat there, aimlessly flicking through the channels, waiting for the smell of baked bread to fill the apartment, covering the smell of cannabis.

His thoughts are interrupted by a buzz through the intercom. He sighs, placing the blunt between his lips to free up his hands. He pushes against the sofa, using it as leverage to rise to his feet. As he straightens up, his vision goes black causing him to stumble and he catches himself against the arm of the chair. Eventually, his vision returns, albeit a little blurry, and he makes his way to the intercom which buzzes again.

John winces at the piercing noice, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming...Fucking 'ell." John mutters to himself as clear as he can with a blunt trapped between his lips. He reaches the intercom, pressing on the speaker button.

"Speak." John spits, more bitterly than he had intended.

"Good afternoon, sir. There is someone here to see you." The receptionist says through the grainy audio system. John pulls the blunt from his lips, staring at the floor as he tries to recall if he had an interview or a shoot booked for today. Once he comes to the conclusion that he doesn't, and that even if he does, he wasn't in the mood to see anyone, he speaks up.

"Tell 'em to piss off and try again when I'm not high." John scoffs, knowing that means never. Just as he was about to walk away, the voice speaks up again.

"Er, sir? I think you might want to see this person..."

John scoffs again.

What do they know?

John sighs again before speaking.

"Friend or foe?" He asks, staring at the smoke emitting from the blunt that was still placed between his finger tips.

"Friend, sir. An old friend."

Johns breath hitches, now knowing exactly who was waiting for him in the lobby. He swallows the lump that immediately forms in his throat. A beat passes between them.

"Check him for drugs and send him up." John says, releasing his finger off the intercom before the voice can reply.

John looks around the apartment, which suddenly appeared a lot messier than he thought. He shuffles around, collecting day old plates and glasses, taking them to the kitchen sink.

He is brushing ash of the sofa when he hears a knock the front door. He walks up to the door, standing in front of it, pausing.

Joh contemplates leaving it until he goes away, hiding in his usual pile of drugs and drink until Yoko comes back. However, before he can even properly consider it, his hand reaches for the doorknob, twisting it to open.

It's not the last time his body betrays him.

The door opens and there they are. Those doe eyes that have a thousand memories swimming within them.

"John."

His full lips are moving but John couldn't hear anything. It isn't until Paul waves a hand in front of his face does he comes back to reality.

"Sorry, what?" John mutters.

"I said, are you gonna let me in?" Paul chuckles lightly, raising an eyebrow playfully. John nods, stepping aside to allow Paul to enter.

"Shoes off." John says, pointing to his own bare feet and then walking into the living room. Paul nods, slipping off his shoes, leaving him in socks, and following John deeper into the apartment.

Paul looks around, taking in the decor.

"It's mostly Yoko's...the decor." John speaks up, leaning on the wall, observing the movements of his ex bandmate. Paul hums in acknowledgment.

"...and where is Yoko?" Paul questions, stepping closer to John to get a better look at him. Unfortunately (for John), Paul steps into a pool of sun streaming from the window, meaning he was quite literally glowing.

This isn't fair.

"Oh, um...she's been away with Sean. Should be back in about two days." He manages to stutter out.

"Ah, I see. Linda stayed at the hotel. Wanted a bit of a chill day today. She sends her love though." Paul responds, feeling the need to justify where his wife was as well. It was John's turn to hum in acknowledgement.

They stand at opposite ends of the room.

"So, we're alone." Paul points out. John nods.

"Seems like it. Just me, you...and everything between us." John responds, his voice going quieter at the end. A void of silence fills the room as they stare at each other. John is the first to speak, clearing his throat.

"Would you like a drink?" He asks, trying to ease the tension. Paul's lips tilt into a slight smile.

"Yeah! A tea would be gear, thanks." Paul answers, smiling as he watching John nod before disappearing into the kitchen.

As John makes the tea, thankful to be away from Paul's watchful eyes, Paul continues to glance around the room. His eyes land on a sweet picture of John holding Sean in his arms.

"How's it been? You know, raising Sean?" Paul calls out to the kitchen, his finger tracing Johns figure in the picture.

"Yeah, good. It's all the usual baby stuff at the moment. Changing nappies, feeding bottles and all that." John voice muffles out through to the living room. Paul nods, even though John cant see and continues to walk around.

Eventually, John emerges back into the living room with a tray holding two cups of tea, a bowl of sugar and a small jug of milk. He sets it down on the coffee table, and sits in his usual spot on the sofa, in front of the tv. Paul walks around and sits next to him, making sure to leave some distance between them.

As they sip their teas, they catch up on how they've been, when they last saw George or Ringo and what type of music the other was listening to. After a while, John feels the need for a bit of a buzz.

He sits up, Paul watching his movements closely.

"Do ya want a smoke?" John asks casually, pulling out a small bag of cannabis from the draw of the small table in front. Paul thinks for a moment before shrugging.

"Oh go on then." He chuckles, watching as John rolls out a blunt for them to share, just like old times.

John takes a puff, exhaling as he slumps against the sofa, passing it to Paul. Paul scoots closer to John, their thighs now touching, setting their bodies alight from the contact. They're now both slumped against the sofa, watching the tv, occasionally commenting on what was on the screen, passing the blunt between them.

John can't exactly remember when it happens, but Paul tilts his head, resting it on John's shoulder. Instead of moving away, like his mind was telling him, his body betrays him once more. He melts into the touch, his head resting on top of Paul's.

This is nice.

This is what could've been.

They sit in the same position for about 20 minutes, neither of them wanting the other to move. Eventually something catches Paul's eye. He smirks, standing up and walking over to one of the cabinets in the room, kneeling down by the vinyl records. John watches curiously, his eyes half lidded.

"Oh, oh! What's this?" Paul questions, a smug look on his face as he pulls out the record of his latest Wings album 'Speed of Sound'. John's eyes widen, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he tries to push out an excuse.

"Oh, er...a friend gave it to me...haven't heard it yet." John lies, hoping Paul would take the bait. Paul narrows his eyes before opening the vinyl, his face falling as he looks inside.

Oh God.

"Where is it?" Paul questions, showing John the empty cover. John blushes even more.

Don't look at the record player.

Don't look at the record player.

Don't look at the record player.

John's eyes glance to the record player.

Shit.

Paul's eyes follow his, landing on the record player on the shelf above him.

"No...you haven't..." Paul lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief, standing up to look at the record player, finding his album already on the platter. He barks out a laugh.

"You liar! You have listened to it!" He shouts loudly, pointing at John.

"Oh fuck off, Paul." John scoffs, hiding his face in his hands, not baring to look at the other man. He wants to punch his body for it’s betrayal once more.

While John is contemplating all of the ways he could end his embarrassment, he hears the familiar opening of 'silly love songs'. He looks up from his hands to see Paul standing there, next to the record player, smirking at him.

"I say, old chap. Would you care for a dance?" Paul says, doing his best impression of the BBC presenters that used to interview them back in the beatlemania days. John laughs breathlessly, shaking his head.

"If you touch me, Paul...I swear." John warns him, holding out his hand with a point, half serious, half joking. He watches as Paul exaggeratedly struts towards him, wiggling his eyebrows.

Paul grabs at John's hand, attempting to pull him up from his position on the sofa. John leans away, going limp to make it even harder for him.

"Come on! Just one little dance." Paul pleads, smiling despite growing tired at his efforts to pull him up. Although, John was a lot thinner now, which Paul tried not to frown at.

"Fine..." John sighs out, as he reluctantly allows himself to be pulled up. The younger man smirks after getting his way, dragging him into the middle of the room. They both start dancing madly together, kicking their legs about and twisting around each other, singing the lyrics.

I love you.

I love you.

Each time Paul sings the lyric, John's heart quickens. For a moment, they break away, dancing by themselves and john takes this opportunity to admire the other man as he spins around laughing.

It's like time slows down. John couldn't help but stare at Paul, warmth filling his chest each time he catches a glimpse of his smile, his front teeth poking out perfectly. He was beautiful.

John gets pulled out of his thoughts quite literally as Paul grabs his hand again, spinning him around. As John spins, his leg catches the coffee table and before he can process it, he is tumbling to the ground, dooming Paul to the same fate due to their intwined hands.

Paul ends up falling on his back, the impact knocking the wind out of him. John falls on top of him, his face falling into the crook of his neck.

They both burst out in fits of laughter, Paul's own body vibrating through John's. John lifts his head, still laughing as he looks at Paul, which is a mistake.

How can I tell you about my loved one?

Because he looks perfect. Of course he does. Laying beneath him, his eyes watering from laughter, his mouth falling into a soft smile as he stares up at him with his big doe eyes. Somewhere in the room, Paul is still singing about 'silly love songs', and it starts to get too overwhelming. All of his senses are filled with Paul. Sight, sound, smell, touch...taste?

Before John can do any more thinking, he leans forward, pressing his lips onto Pauls, fulfilling the last sense.

His body betrays him again.

Paul immediately pushes John away from him, causing him to fall to his side. They stare at each other wide eyed as silence passes between them other than Paul's own voice repeating 'I love you' through the record player.

John starts to panic internally, trying to make up a believable excuse as to why he just kissed his best friend. However, before he can get a single word out, Paul surges forward, crashing their lips together once more.

John lets out a surprised yelp before melting into the feeling of Paul's lips against his own. He crawls back on top of the man, deepening the kiss, combing a hand through his hair. The song eventually fades out as the next song begins to play. They continue to kiss, moving their bodies against each other.

Suddenly, Linda's voice fills the air, causing Paul to pull back.

'Cook of the house' was now playing and at hearing his wife's voice, he feels an immense amount of guilt. John can read him like a book and gets off of his body, standing up and walking to the record player, taking the album off of the platter.

He searches for a new album, running his fingers along the sides of his vinyl collection until he finds what he is looking for.

Meanwhile, Paul stays laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, breathless and confused. His mind tries to make sense of what had just happened but all his thoughts were filled with John.

John. John. John.

Paul. Paul. Paul.

That was all John could think about as he placed an album on.

The beginning of 'God only knows' starts filling the room. John starts at the wall, not bringing himself to look at Paul, who is now standing at the sound of his favourite song, staring at Johns back.

He slowly walks up to John, standing behind him and putting his hand to his shoulder. John still doesn't turn around, his head handing low.

I've ruined it.

If you should ever leave me.

Paul turns Johns body around to face him.

He's got Linda and I've got Yoko.

Though life would still go on believe me.

He brings a hand up to tilt John's face to look at him.

It would never work.

The world could show nothing to me.

They stare into each other's eyes, both pairs slightly red from welling emotion.

But I can't live without him.

So what good would living do me?

Paul lets out a wet chuckle as his thumb strokes John's cheek, admiring his soft features in contrasts to his harder ones.

God only knows what I'd be without you.

Paul leans forward, capturing John's lips in his once more. Their bodies melt into each other as the harmonies of the beach boys fill their ears.

This is heaven, John thinks as he pours all his emotion into Paul.

Just as the kiss starts to grow heated, Paul pulls away, eyebrows furrowing as he makes exaggerated sniffs.

"Can you smell...burning?" He asks John.

"Shit! My bread!" John shouts in a panic, pushing Paul out of the way and running into the kitchen.