Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7216891.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Beatles
  Relationship:
      John_Lennon/Paul_McCartney, George_Harrison/Ringo_Starr
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-16 Completed: 2016-07-05 Chapters: 8/8 Words: 12389
****** Chasing Paper ******
by MeanieQueenie
Summary
     On the morning of every child's thirteenth birthday, every child
     looks hurriedly for their soul mate's mark, a name, nickname, or even
     stage name sprawled across their body that will lead them to their
     soul mate. Paul McCartney looks forward to meeting his mate, Johnny.
     John Lennon just wishes his foreign tart, Macca, would show up
     already.
***** Standing Solo *****
Today was supposed to be an exciting day for every young girl and boy. Well,
that is every young girl and boy except for John Lennon. Getting up on the day
of his thirteenth birthday was one of the things he dreaded most in his life.
John groaned, flipping his covers off of him and went to the bathroom. He
avoided looking in the mirror and tried his best to take a shower without
looking at himself. After getting dressed, he quietly shuffled downstairs
before slumping onto a chair.
“So what’s her name?!” His Uncle George said over his plate, grinning and
leaning forward towards John. Even Aunt Mimi looked interested, putting down
the pan to hear John’s answer.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.” John replied, glaring down at his plate.
“Haven’t looked?! Well, go on! Take off your shirt, I’m sure it’s there!” John
froze, stalling. He didn’t want to look, he was sure there would be nothing
there. After all, his mom didn’t have one nor did his father, what if their
luck passed down to him. He just knew he was destined for no one, a lone soul
with no one else to truly be with.
“John, hurry up!” Aunt Mimi admonished, stirring John from his thoughts. He
slowly took off his shirt, taking his time to unbutton every button and slowly
shrugging the shirt off his shoulders. He didn’t look down and their silence
told him everything. He knew it. He was going to be alone fore-
“What a weird name.” Uncle George finally spoke.
“Foreign maybe?” Aunt Mimi responded. John finally looked down and there it
was, sprawled out across his hipbone in cursive letters was his soulmate’s
name, or nickname if that was the case, sometimes mates were weird like that.
Macca he silently felt the name on his tongue, testing it out for the first
time…
…
Paul McCartney’s 13th birthday was an occasion everyone was looking forward to.
His father was cooking breakfast with all the fixings, and his mother had even
painstakingly made him a cake, which she was frosting when Paul practically ran
down the stairs, eager to show off his mate. “Look mum!” He turned around,
baring his shoulder to show off the name written in a lazy cursive.
“Oh dear! What a nice name. Johnny! You’ve got yourself a fine lad!” His mother
squealed, wrapping her son into a tight hug.
“I can’t wait to meet him son. I’m sure you’ll find him in no time.” His dad
squeezed his shoulder as he led him to the table. “Now sit down and let the
festivities begin.”
When his mother opened the door to his bedroom later that day, Paul assumed it
was to wish him happy birthday one last time. That wasn’t the case.
“Paul… I didn’t want to talk about this today, but your father thought it best
to do it now.” His mother sat down softly on his bed. Paul sat up slightly.
“What is it, mum?”
“Your mate… it’s legal now that he’s a man. You may even be able to marry him
even with how the law is changing so much nowadays…”
“I know that mum!”
“Shhh, just listen to me. Your dad and I will always support you being with
your mate. It’s what God would have intended anyways, but there are many… many
people who won’t. You’re going to have a hard time finding work, being beaten
and bullied, even some school teachers will treat you badly.”
“Is… is that really so? Even though he’s my soulmate?”
“Yes… it’s best if you don’t tell anyone your true soulmate. The only one who
needs to know is you and Johnny.”
“I understand mum.”
…
Paul sneered at the ground, kicking at the pebbles near his feet. This had been
the tenth John with four Johnnys mixed in there somewhere. He had to have a
mate with such a common name. He had gotten good at it, telling if the Johnny
he was introduced to recognized his name as their mate. The first time he had
met a John he had not been so lucky. He grimaced, remembering the tears of joy
he had cried and almost kissing that John, before the lad had punched him. He
had come far from that embarrassing moment, the black eye had healed long ago,
but he still couldn’t help the disappointment he felt every time a John heard
his name and saw nothing in their eyes.
He knew he was only 15, and that most people didn’t meet their mates until much
later in life, but he couldn’t wait. He wanted to be held and loved like his
father and mother had…
…
John leaned over her, caressing her hip and nibbling on her lip. She moaned,
grasping onto John’s shirt. John forgot her name, Maggie or May or something
like that. She probably didn’t know his name either. He had no idea if she was
nameless or just hadn’t found her one yet or if, like him, was going to have to
go to some bloody foreign country to find her mate. It didn’t matter, he was
using her as much as she was probably using him, both trying to forget that the
one wasn’t there yet.
He had waited, if only for two short years before giving up on Macca. No one
had such a name, not in Liverpool at least and probably not in England either.
He had to be famous or travel or something to ever meet his Macca. In the
meantime, he would just appease his loneliness and cock with girls like May, or
whatever her name is, who was most likely doing the same. It was Macca’s fault,
after all, that he had to do this. Stupid bitch had to be in a different
country. But if she was really his, she would probably forgive him for not
waiting.
…
“PAUL!” Ivan Vaughan shouted, running to catch up with his friend. Paul looked
back, slowing his pace so Ivan could walk beside him. “I’m going to the Woolton
Village Fete this Saturday. Want to come along? They’ll be games and The
Quarrymen are playing.”
“The Quarrymen?”
“Yeah, old friend of mine runs it. Really, Paul, I’ve told you this.” Oh, that
band. Paul thought to himself, ignoring Ivan’s rambling on again about how cool
the band was and how he played the tea-chest bass for them occasionally.
“Anyways, bring your guitar and I’ll introduce you. Meet at yours at 2. Bye.”
Ivan turned down his street, waving behind him. Paul silently cursed as he
realized that he had never said he would go. Oh well, should be entertaining to
say the least.
…
The lorry holding John slowly followed the other lorry with the Rose Queen on
it. The Quarrymen were playing “Come Go with Me” by the Dell Vikings while the
Rose Queen sat prim and proper on her throne, her pink and white ribbons and
flowers tied into her hair flowed through the wind as she bobbed her head to
the music. The boys were trying their best to stay upright on the moving lorry,
but one by one, they all sat down until John was finally the last one to sit.
Paul and Ivan were watching the band. Ivan brought up once again his
involvement with the Quarrymen, but Paul ignored him and listened to the music
instead.
They were alright, Paul decided, but the lead singer was really the one
outshining the rest of them. Paul realized halfway through the song that they
weren’t singing the right lyrics, but the words fit nonetheless.
…
“Hey John!” Ivan shouted as he entered the church. John! Paul looked closely
for any response from John when he heard his name. “This is Paul. He plays!”
Paul tried to hide the flash of disappointment when he saw nothing in John’s
eyes.
“Well, go on show us what you got!” John demanded. Paul swung his guitar over
his shoulder, getting into position. “Plays, Ivan? He’s holding it wrong!” Paul
ignored him, before diving into a rendition of Eddie Cochran’s Twenty Flight
Rock. “Y’alright. Did ya see us play today?”
“You’re alright.” Paul felt like he said the wrong thing for a moment, before
John slapped him on his shoulder, laughing.
“Pete, get him a beer!” Paul accepted the beer, not taking a sip of it. He was
going out later with Ivan anyways. “C’mon lad, play us some more, why don’t
ya?” Paul blushed, setting the beer down before playing Gene Vincent’s Be Bop A
Lula. The next hour was spent with John leading Paul around, introducing him to
everyone, occasionally stopping to demand another song from him. Paul
eventually spotted the piano, stopping John so he could sit down.
“Can you play that too?” John asked, Paul smelt the beer on his breath, shocked
slightly that he hadn’t noticed John had drunk that much. Nodding, Paul started
to play a little, knowing John would probably ask him to anyways.
Trying to ease the sudden silence, Paul tried to spark up a conversations. “So,
you play the banjo, right?”
“Yeah, how d’ya know?”
“It’s just… your guitars tuned like a banjo y’know?” John was silent for a
moment, and Paul hoped he didn’t anger him.
“Well, how ‘bout you teach me how to tune it then?” John spoke quietly, but
Paul smiled nonetheless.
…
“Paul, it’s ‘bout time we get going.” Ivan said, causing Paul to jump as he was
in the middle of showing John a new chord he learned the other day.
“Eh? Already? It’s early, Ivan, besides we’re ‘bout to play again!” John, still
a little drunk, responded for Paul. Ivan opened his mouth to respond, but
instead Paul spoked up.
“Errh, actually, we should get going, John. See ya later.” Paul scrambled up,
waving goodbye to John and the other boys.
Later that night, John had difficulty sleeping, but it wasn’t because of Pete’s
obnoxious snoring. He didn’t know what do about Paul. He was wary about
inviting Paul into the band. What if he took away John’s leader role in the
band? Paul knew how to play, admittedly better than John did at the moment. But
with Paul… He could go somewhere, couldn’t he? He could get out of Liverpool,
maybe even England… And maybe… maybe he could even meet Macca.
That was the deciding factor. “Pete.” Hearing the snores stop and a groan, John
continued. “Pete. I want Paul in the band. Get him.” Another groan, but John
turned over and fell asleep in response.
…
***** Letters on my Wall *****
If Paul said he hadn’t thought of the Quarrymen in the past two weeks since he
met them, he would be lying. He had fun playing around with the boys and
listening to them play, but he didn’t even dare to think that he would be
invited to join them.
“C’mon Paul, join us. We need another guitar player.” Pete Shotton didn’t beg
often, but John had demanded that he convince Paul to join the Quarrymen and he
would do just that, besides he didn’t want to disappoint John anyways.
“I don’t know Shotton…” Paul would have loved to join but he didn’t know if he
could handle being around a lad named John who wasn’t his mate. That sounded
like bloody torture to him and he didn’t like putting himself in situations
where the secret of his mate could come to light.
But Pete wasn’t going to back down that easily, so he tried another approach,
the same one John had used on him “Besides, you haven’t found your mate yet,
right? It’d be much easier to find her when you’re a famous musician.”
Pete had a point, it would be easier… “Well, alright, I might as well try it
out.”
“Great! We have practice tomorrow at seven over at mine. See ya then Paul!”
 
…
 
“Y’alright, Paul?” George said as he sat down next to Paul, nudging him a
little to get his attention.
“Huh? Oh, hey George. Just thinkin. What’s up with you today?”
“Oh nothing much. Me mum’s makin’ a big dinner tonight though. What you
thinking bout?”
“Hmmm. I was invited to join a band yesterday. I said I would show up tonight,
but m’ not sure if I will.”
“WHAT! That’s great news. ‘course you’ll show up, why wouldn’t you?”
“The lead singer’s name is John. Figured it would be pretty awkward.”
George fell silent, knowing how awkward that could be, but he was sure Paul
would be fine. After all, Paul had always been better at hiding who his
soulmate was. Hell, George only knew because he had told Paul about his soul
mate and Paul had told him about Johnny so he had a friend to talk to about it.
“Weellll…” George started, before smirking and nudging Paul’s shoulder again.
“You already promised to show up, so might as well have fun and enjoy it. If
you don’t like it, you don’t have to go to anything else. Loosen up! You don’t
have to worry ‘bout people finding out about you-know-who all the time!”
“Hey!” Paul punched George’s shoulder lightly “Least I don’t tell everyone!” It
was true, George had always been bad about blabbing his mouth, but he found
most people couldn’t throw a good punch anyways. Paul was always there to ice
his bruises and remind him to be careful. George couldn’t care less, his
soulmate Ritchie was depending on him to be strong. Trying to change the
subject, Paul spoke up again. “So what’s your mum makin’ for dinner?”
“M’ not sure yet, but there’s potatoes in the pantry so she might make bangers
n mash, but there’s also peas so maybe some mushy peas, but then theres….”
…
“John’s 16, though he’s due to turn 17 sometime in a few months, so only a
little bit older than us” Ivan nudged Paul playfully at the mention of their
shared birthday, Paul smirked at him, nudging him back. Ivan continued rambling
into Paul’s ear as they walked to Pete’s house. Paul hadn’t realized he had no
idea where Pete’s house was until Ivan had showed up at his doorstep, making it
impossible for Paul to blow off the practice anyways. “Pete’s 16 too and so is
Rod, though you’re probably replacing him since he’s backing out.”
Paul was silently glad for Ivan’s willingness to give out information. He
already felt much better about practice. “Here we are!” Nevermind. Paul
swallowed. Why was he so nervous about this? He hadn’t even decided yet if he
wanted to be in this band.
Ivan led him to the back of the white house to an old air-raid shelter, where
the band was setting up inside. John looked up from his guitar, opening his
mouth “Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence!”
Grinning, Paul couldn’t help but reply with “Fortunately for you, I had just
enough time in my busy schedule to drop by.”
“You better make some more time son or we’ll leave your ass in the dust when we
get to the top!”
“M’ already there, John!” Paul snickered, unpacking his guitar and tuning it
while John spoke.
“Ok lads. We’ll be working on All Shook Up and Bye Bye Love before we go
through Come Go with Me since some of you messed up during the Fete!”
“Maybe, we can get the lyrics right on that one!” Paul teased, though he had
actually liked what John had done with the lyrics for the Dell Vikings song.
“Shut up Paul!” John shouted, grinning, and playfully punching Paul on the
shoulder.
…
Packing up his guitar, Paul couldn’t help but keep grinning. He felt the
practice had gone well and he truly enjoyed playing with the band, especially
John. Every time he had looked up, John looked suave and cool, like a true
rocker, especially when he had sang All Shook Up. The few occasions that John
had met his eyes, Paul couldn’t help but smile at him.
A hand landed on Paul’s shoulder “Paul!” Paul jumped, spinning around to see
John. “Where’s your house son?”
“Over on Forthlin Road. Why?” Paul queried.
“I live on Mendips. Since Ivan already left, I’ll walk with you.” Paul
shrugged, swinging his guitar onto his shoulder and following John out of the
shelter. They were silent for a while as they walked, the street-lamps casting
an orange glow onto the side walk. Paul was almost surprised how comfortable
the silence was, so much so that he jumped slightly when John suddenly spoke.
“Enjoy yourself, did you?”
Paul paused to think before he spoke up. “Yeah, actually…”
“You’re coming back then right? It’d be a shame to deal with those guys by
meself.”
“Umm…” He did enjoy himself, but did Paul want to get involved with the
Quarrymen, well to be more accurate, with John?
“C’mon Paul! With you and me, we’ll take this band to the top!” John grabbed
Paul, pointing off to the distance, almost shouting. “Imagine it! Fame and
glory! All the birds lined up for you! The most expensive beer and wine for you
to enjoy!” John lowered his voice. “People will nick our records, it’ll be so
good.”
Well, Paul didn’t need the birds, but the beer did sound pretty good. If he
could hide his soulmate for two years, surely he could do so for the band, even
if the band leader happened to be named John, right?
“If you insist!”
“See you Thursday then! Same time and place!” John called out as he turned off
towards his house.
…
It turned out that John saw Paul on Wednesday next instead of Thursday, but he
couldn’t have known that Paul would eat at the same chippy as him. John
hesitated when he spied him across the patio, wondering if he should join him.
Paul was alone, and so was John, but Paul was furiously scribbling in a tiny
black leather notebook, hardly touching his chips. John began to turn away,
when Paul looked up and spotted him, one of his perfectly-arched eyebrows
raised in question. When Paul closed his notebook, John decided it was too late
to find his own spot and sat down across from Paul.
“What’re you doing here, son?” John began, as Paul began munching on his chips.
“Just working on some stuff.”
“What’re you working on? Lemme see!” John reached over for the notebook, but
Paul laid his hand on it and scooted it closer to himself.
“Errr… It’s just some silly songs and stuff. Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Paul
nervously played with his food, scooting the chips around his plate.
“Nonsense! Wouldn’t hurt to let me see one then.”
Paul responded by flipping through the notebook, looking for some lyrics where
he had used feminine pronouns instead of masculine ones. It wouldn’t do no good
to be kicked out of the band after just one practice. Finding one, he handed
the book over to John.
John silently read the lyrics, pressing his face close to the page, making up
for his refusal to wear his glasses. “Well, Paul. It isn’t Buddy Holly but we
can certainly dress it up a little and we’d have a fine song on our hands!”
“Do you write?”
“Just silly poems. Never put a tune to them or anything like that.”
Paul smiled, and John was surprised to find his breath was taken away. “That’s
a start, Johnny.”
Paul reminded himself later that night to stop calling John “Johnny”, it was
just a little too weird.
…
***** In which Doris gets her Oats *****
The first month being a Quarryman passes quickly. Paul finds he quickly gets
used to being in a band. Practice occurs twice weekly, but Paul doesn’t really
spend any time with them beyond that, just the walks with John afterward. It’s
on a Thursday that Pete decided that had to change, he was going to bring Paul
out with the boys.
So Pete wrapped his arm around Paul’s shoulder as Paul picked up his guitar
after practice to head home. “Paullliieee! We’re going out tomorrow, come
with?” Pete pleaded, knowing if he straight out begged, Paul would have a hard
time saying no.
John looked up at Pete and snickered before saying “Really, Pete? Look at his
baby face! We’d never get in the bars with him.”
“Come off it, John. Besides, Ivan told me Paul here is a professional at
pulling birds.” Pete waggled his eyebrows at John, shaking Paul a bit.
“Oh, really?” John looked interested at Paul, before shrugging his shoulders,
which Pete took to mean that Paul could come. Score one for Pete Shotton.
“I’ll pick you up around eight.” Paul grinned as he realized Pete once again
forgot to get Paul’s answer in the first place but chose to head home instead
of commenting on it.
…
“Who are you?” Jim looked down at Pete from the door, frowning, tea towel in
hand and an apron tied around him. If this was Paul’s dad, he sure was
intimidating, even with the faint scent of lavender surrounding him. Jim’s arms
were crossed and one eyebrow was raised as if to say to Pete “This better be
good or I’m shutting this door in your face.”
“Err… I’m Pete Shotton, a friend of Paul’s. We were going to study together at
my house.”
Jim shoots him a glare, before sighing and calling for Paul. Pete is thankful
that Paul has the good sense to come quickly, but Jim stops his son at the
door. “If you come in late, don’t wake me or your brother. Don’t have too much
fun.”
“Yes, dad. Bye.”
“Your dad is scary,” Pete admits when they get a safe distance away from the
house, sure that Jim was still listening at the door.
Paul pushes him, laughing, before saying “Don’t mind him, he hasn’t had his
ciggie yet. You kind of interrupted him.”
“Oh? Should I have come at a different time?”
“Of course! Don’t you know Ol’ Jim’s ciggie schedule calls for two cigs at
eight?!”
“Hah! C’mon Paul. We’re going to have a wild night out behind Ol’ Jim’s back!”
…
The club smelled just like what you would expect it to, ciggies and liquor.
When Paul and Pete had arrived, John had already finished his first beer and
called for another round. “’bout time lads! Hey Paulie, this is Nigel Walley,
he’s actually our manager, but he’s too busy playing golf to visit us lowly
lads!” Nigel rolled his eyes, continuing to sip on his beer. John pushed a beer
into Paul’s hands. “Drink up, son.”
Pete pushed Paul into the bench, following after him. “Sorry, we had to defeat
the evil Jim before Paulie could escape the tower!”
Paul leaned closer to John, whispering “Pete’s scared of me dad. Almost shat
his trousers on me doorstep.”
“HEY! I heard that!” John let out a hearty laugh, slapping Paul on his back.
When Paul went to take his next sip of the cold beer, John pushed the bottom of
the glass up, forcing Paul to gulp it down. “C’mon Paulie! You were late so now
you have to hurry to catch up with us.”
Despite his better judgment, Paul finished the first beer quickly.
And the second one
And the third one, well what was left after he spilled a bit on the floor.
John was all laughter and biting humor. Nigel was mostly silent, but Pete
talked for practically everyone anyways. If the second beer hadn’t made Paul
right tipsy, the third one had definitely done him in.
And John noticed immediately “Aww Paulie! Can’t hold your beer?”
Fortunately, Pete saved Paul from John’s teasing “John! Let’s go pull those
birds over there, they’re definitely lookers.” John let out a low whistle of
approval and dragged Pete off.
Paul was left with Nigel, who seemed happy to stay quiet, which was quite
alright by Paul who was just paying attention to the water a barmaid gave him.
John and Pete talked up the two birds, both of whom giggled at the attention
they were receiving. A third girl walked up while they were talking, whom the
blonde girl (Sadie? John forgot her name) introduced as their friend Beth.
“We’re also with friends, actually,” Pete responded, nodding his head toward
Paul and Nigel.
Beth looked over, studying the men. “And who’s that?” She spoke, pointing at
Paul.
“Oh, that’s just Paul.”
“Well, you should ask Just Paul to come over. I need someone to dance with too,
don’t I?” Beth pouted.
John ran off to collect Paul and returned, whispering into Paul’s ear “Here you
go, lad. I warmed her up for you so just distract her while I get with the
blonde.”
“Paul.” Paul reached out to shake her hand.
Beth giggled “I’m Beth. Nice to meet you, Paul. Buy me a drink?”
Paul glanced at John, who was already busy making out with the blonde. Well, he
was quick, wasn’t he? Paul shrugged and led Beth over to the bar where he
ordered them both another beer.
Beth was easy to talk to, or at least the beer made it easy enough. When Paul
found himself at a loss for words, Beth easily filled the silence with gossip,
giggles, and winks. Paul thought she was cute, and if it wasn’t for his
decision to wait for Johnny (and that she’d run off to the hills when she saw
the male soulmate tattoo anyways), he definitely would have let her kiss him
when she held his shoulder and leaned forward, puckering her pink lips.
“Umm… Beth, I’m sorry to do this to you, I really am, but ’m saving myself for
me soulmate.”
Beth blinked once.
Twice.
“What?”
“I’m not kissing anyone but me soulmate.”
Paul was surprised when instead of becoming angry, Beth’s eyes softened
instead. “Awww… Paul. That’s so sweet. I wish my soulmate would do that for me.
What’s her name?”
Err… “Jane.” Close enough.
“Tell me everything. What do you think she’ll look like? Do you think she’ll
wait too?”
Paul would have honestly preferred the anger to this.
Both John and Pete left before Paul could stop Beth’s questions, so he was left
with a pissed Nigel to walk home with.
…
“Paaauuullll. C’mon Paulie wake upppp” Paul awoke to George shaking his
shoulder and calling out his name. “G’morning sleeping beauty. You said we were
hanging out today.”
Paul sat up and climbed out of bed. “Oh sorry George, let me just get dressed
and stuff. Who let you in anyways?”
“Your dad, he said it was punishment. What for?”
“Came home late from a club last night,” Paul responded, stepping into the
bathroom to change and get ready for the day. “So, what are we listening to
first? Elvis? Carl Perkins? Buddy Holly?” Paul questioned as he finished
combing his hair and took out the record player and his records.
“You know I will never say no to Carl Perkins.”
“Oh, so Elvis?” Paul laughed as he put on Carl Perkins.
George and Paul spent the better of the morning playing the guitar and
listening to records. After lunch, the doorbell rang. “Huh, I’m not expectin’
anyone,” Paul said as he opened the door, his mouth opening in shock when he
sees it is none other than John Lennon. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Oh, just coming to see me mate. He has got some juicy gossip for me about last
night.” John said as he walked in, not waiting for an invitation. “Who’s this?”
John asks, spying George.
“That’s George Harrison, he plays too actually.”
“John Lennon. Now that that’s over with, show me your bedroom.”
Paul rolled his eyes, looking over at George. “Demanding, isn’t he?” Paul
guided John to his room. John ignored the chair set out and flopped onto his
bed instead.
“Oh, I see you have some Elvis. Put that on.”
“Hey, that’s me bed.” Paul changed the record, he didn’t mind listening to some
Elvis anyways, and sat down on the floor, picking up his guitar.
“My bed now, son. I got that bird’s number last night.”
“Just the number, huh?”
“Nevermind that. Saw you talking up that bird, how was she? Good in bed?”
George, looking confused, suddenly spoke up “A girl? But I thought your
soulmate was a-“
“I didn’t do anything with her… I’m actually waiting on me soulmate.” Paul
interrupts George before he could say anything, shooting him a look that
hopefully John misses. Paul hopes fervently that John doesn’t think anything of
it.
If John did notice something was up, he didn’t say anything “Waiting? Didn’t
know you were a Nancy-boy, Paul. I bet you write love poems and pick flowers
for her too, don’t you?” John teases him, but Paul just shrugs and keeps
fingering the guitar strings as John continues “Don’t worry son, Ol’ Johnny boy
here will tell you how to do the do when you meet her. Else you’ll make her cry
from your lackluster performance.”
John turns to George then “What bout you then lad? Is your cock going to fall
off from lack of use too?”
George shrugs “If I get laid before then, then so be it. If not, then whatever.
I’m sure Ritchie won’t really mind.”
Paul stops breathing, looking over to George, who, in typical fashion, doesn’t
realize what he just revealed to John.
John blinks and breathes in deeply before speaking again, his voice breaking a
little “A lad? A boy soulmate? I’ve only heard of people having them before,
never met one before now personally. Weird, innit?”
John could’ve responded much better than that, but he also didn’t punch George
in the face or call him a queer, which Paul found meant a lot to him. George
only responded after a solid moment of silence, needing time to think about it.
He’d never been asked that before to be honest.
“It’s ‘bout the same, innit? Except more black eyes.” John laughs, the tension
in the room suddenly left as George started to laugh too.
And maybe that meant there was more to John than Paul had imagined.
But Paul was still going to punch George later.
…
***** On Our Way Home *****
Chapter Summary
     Hey guys I just wanted to thank everyone first for your
     encouragement, especially since this is the first fic I've ever
     written, and it definitely helps when I have a writer's block.
After that day, John is suddenly attached to Paul, showing up at the worst
times and somehow wheedling Paul to spend the night at Mendips regularly. Paul
legitimately fights it at first, coming up with excuses, distancing himself
from John, and never approaching him first, but it’s a losing battle, and Paul
decides to just fight the blushes when John looks at him in a certain way
instead. Jim doesn’t like it. At all. He tells Paul John will just get him into
trouble, but John is unrelenting and doesn’t ever take no for an answer. John’s
attitude when Paul occasionally says no are even worse than Mimi’s glares when
Paul says yes.
On most days, Paul will exit the bus to find John waiting for him, dragging him
off to Mendips where they will spend the day learning chords and listening to
records, occasionally they will play around with a melody and write, but it
isn’t serious and John has a habit of making up nonsense lyrics when he can’t
think of anything. Paul didn’t expect anything different today when John
grinned at him and commenced the dragging until John turned on the wrong
street.
“Hey! Mendips is that way!”
“We’re not goin’ there. What are you, daft?”
“Where we goin’ then? Takin’ me off to the woods to kill me, are you?”
“Yes. Now hurry up, I don’t want to kill any witnesses.”
The grey house on Blomfield Road loomed over Paul as John walked up the stairs
and knocked on the door. A beautiful woman with red hair and a bright smile
opened the door. She wrapped her arms around John and said, “John! It’s so nice
that you’re here. Are you staying for dinner? Please say yes?” She then spotted
Paul behind John, “Oh you brought a friend for me to meet, what’s his name?”
“Mum, this is Paul McCartney, Paul, this is me mum. She’s the one who taught me
how to play the banjo actually.”
Though he didn’t think it was possible, Julia’s smile brightened even more as
she wrapped her arms around Paul also, “McCartney, you say? Aww, I’m so glad
for you, John! Please come in. I made cookies!”
Paul and John played in the living room, as Julia cooked dinner. She kept
peeking into the room, glancing at Paul and giggling before asking him
questions.
“How’d you meet John?” “Do you want any children?” “Are you going to stay in
Liverpool?”
Paul didn’t have answers for most of Julia’s questions, but any answer made her
smile and laugh, and any song Paul and John played caused her to dance. John
even punched Paul when Julia turned away for a moment.
“Stop charmin’ her Paulie! That’s me mum for Christ’s sake.”
“I haven’t done anything!”
After dinner and dessert, Paul was absolutely the fullest he had ever been.
Julia had given him the biggest portions and even gave him second helpings of
dessert. When John excused himself to the loo, Julia hugged Paul once more
while whispering to him “I’m so glad John met you, Macca.” To say the least,
Paul was completely weirded out.
As Paul and John left for Mendips, Paul turned to John, “Your mum’s a weird
one. Is she usually like that?”
John punched Paul and grumbled, “I have no idea what you did, but please don’t
ever do it again.”
…
“What about Long Tall Sally?” Paul suggested, looking down at the list of songs
John and he were writing down. John had decided the band needed to learn some
more songs, but the list was almost entirely rock.
“We need some more skiffle, Paulie. We’re a skiffle group not a rock group.”
“But I love Little Richard. We can just have one more rock song.” But that was
Paul’s argument for every rock song that he suggested, and John’s arguments for
his own suggestions were not much better. “Besides, Len’s not coming back for a
while, right?”
“Well, yeah…”
Paul paused. He had promised George to mention him joining the group a few
weeks ago, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to John, especially since it
was his band. “We’re missing a washboard-player already since Shotton quit, and
now we’re missing a tea-chest bass. If we get another guitarist, say someone
who can play pretty well, we can play more Elvis and Buddy Holly.”
John set down his guitar, looking at Paul carefully. He had a suspicion that
Paul already knew someone. “Who is it, then? The guy you have in mind?”
Paul blushed, beyond nervous about the topic already, but he had predicted
John’s bluntness when he had practised the conversation in the mirror this
morning. “George Harrison. He can play “Raunchy”.”
“Never met him.”
Laughing, Paul shoved John lightly “Yes you have! When you came to my house
asking about that girl at the club. He admitted he had a male soulmate.”
“Him? He’s 13, right?”
“14.”
“We can’t have someone that young! We’ll be laughed off the stage!”
“But he really can play “Raunchy”.”
“Doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”
Paul, seeing John’s jaw tense, decided to drop the subject for now. George
would be good for them, especially since George was so much better than Eric.
“Fine. I think we’re done with this list. Let’s work on our own stuff for a
little bit.” Paul brought out his notebook, a small little book that John
noticed was not the leather-bound one Paul was writing in at the chippy when
John first discovered their mutual love for writing.
In fact, John had never seen that book again, which made him wonder if Paul was
hiding something from him. “Y’know… what happened to your leather journal?”
Paul paused. He actually never brought it out due to a few songs written for a
certain male soulmate, meaning the masculine pronouns were present. A few of
them even included “Johnny” in them. But he couldn’t tell John that. “I lost
it. Those songs weren’t any good anyway.”
John hmphed, not believing Paul in the slightest. Paul never lost anything. His
bedroom was always neat and orderly and the man always checked everything
before he left any place they visited
“I came up with this last night, what do you think?” Paul began strumming his
guitar and then sang, “They said our love was just fun. The day that our
friendship begun.” Paul stopped, looking at John expectantly.
“Hmmm… what about There’s no blue moon that can see, there’s no blue moon in
history?”
They stared at each other in silence, until Paul grimaced and laughed and John
joined in, both silently agreeing to keep that inside the notebook.
…
Though the song stayed inside the notebook, Paul was still determined to have
George join the group. A plan was quickly made, but Paul decided to wait until
after George’s birthday. After all, Paul was 15 and in the band, so obviously
George could join the band when he was 15 also.
Spotting George across the top of the bus “conveniently” when John happened to
ride the bus with Paul, Paul shouted “GEORGE? Is that you? C’mere!” George sat
down next to them and Paul silently thanked God that George had forgone the
baggy clothes, making him look older. “You remember John, right?”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to with you always talkin’ ‘bout him,” George
responded with a toothy grin, ignoring Paul’s glare but noticing his blush.
“You have your guitar on you, right? I’ll be on the bus for a while.”
Paul had purposefully chosen a bus route that would take a while, sure that if
George outright played “Raunchy” John would see through the façade immediately
and stubbornly ignore George. “’course I do.” Paul started playing Buddy Holly
first because anything Buddy Holly would get John’s attention.
But John hadn’t noticed what song they were playing, he was too busy fighting
down the sudden jealousy that flared up when he saw Paul and George playing
together, facing eachother, like John and Paul always did. He couldn’t help but
scowl every time George looked over at him.
John was so busy trying to stay calm that he almost missed it when Paul
suddenly spoke up, “John! You gotta check this out. George, show him!” And
George went on to play the best “Raunchy” John had ever heard. If John had said
he wasn’t impressed, he would be lying, but Paul’s beaming smile at George
twisted anything positive he felt towards George.
 
When John settled down to sleep later that night, Paul spoke up beside him,
“So… George?”
John frowned, though Paul couldn’t see it in the dark. “Don’t think I didn’t
notice your plans, Paulie. You still want him in the band, don’t you?”
“You have to admit that he’s much better than Eric. He just turned 15 too.”
“Still too young.”
“John, I’m 15.” John glared at Paul in the dark. He hated it when Paul
mentioned his age. It was too easy to forget how young the lad was, too easy to
assume he was 16 when John met him and had turned 17 when John had. Paul sighed
and then surprised John by shifting closer and grabbing onto John’s hand. “This
is good for the band, John. We’ll get to the top with a lead guitarist like
George. Just give him a chance.”
“Ok. But just one chance. He messes up and he’s gone.”
John found it was also too easy to give in to Paul when he held his hand like
that.
…
***** Burning Matches *****
Chapter Summary
     This chapter is shorter than I intended because I was going to
     release the next chapter and this one together, but I felt
     stylistically they would be better released separately.
George doesn’t mess up, not at practice nor the gigs that follow in the months
after he joins the Quarrymen, but John is still glaring at him, even now when
he’s talking to Paul after a gig. It’s intimidating and he finds himself
consistently quiet around John.
“What’re you up to tonight?” George questions Paul, trying his best to ignore
the heavy stare he feels from John on his back.
“M’ goin’ out with John for a few drinks. Want in?”
George swallows nervously, not sure if he could handle a drunk John who hates
him. “Err… I don’t know about that, Macc-“George jumps when he feels a heavy
hand grasp his shoulder, knowing immediately it was John, who always
interrupted Paul and George somehow.
“Paulieee!” John whines, “Let’s go already. Ta-ra for now George.” And John is
dragging Paul away from George, who sighs in relief. He really didn’t want to
deal with a drunk, possessive John today.
“John, slow down.” John huffs, slowing down a little, but not enough so that
George could catch up. It was John and Paul time, not George and Paul. Besides,
bugger probably couldn’t get in the bars anyway. Paul spots his favorite bar,
leading John towards it. “Let’s go here. They’ve got a special tonight.”
“On what, cocktails?” John teases, taking the punch from Paul, before pushing
him back. “C’mon. Can’t keep the birds waiting can we?”
But the special wasn’t on cocktails. It was on gin. Sweet gin that burned down
the throat and left you thirsty for more and John was all too happy to indulge
in that thirst. Paul watched in amusement as John knocked back more than his
fair share, but John watched Paul’s lips as he savored the gin slowly, his
Adam’s apple bobbing as he drained each glass of every sip, his tongue darting
out to lick his lips slowly after each glass.
Fuck, John was drunk already, but he needed more alcohol to get that image out
of his head. “More!” He shouted, his voice rough from the gig and drinking.
Paul looked at him quizzically, knowing John was already much drunker than he
was. Paul passed him his own beer, knowing he couldn’t drink much more. John
was always better at holding his alcohol.
Well, usually he was, but not tonight. Once he stopped thinking about Paul’s
lips, he’d start thinking about his big doe-like eyes, how they would crinkle
when he smiled. And then it was his hands and those slender fingers. There was
not enough alcohol to forget Paul.
“M-MORE!” John shouted at the bartender, who glared at him.
“M’ cuttin’ you off, son. No more for you.”
“WHAT!” John slammed his hand onto the bar, yelling, “I NEED MORE!”
“John…” Paul murmured, pulling at John’s sleeve, “I think it’s time we call it
a day…”
“NO! I WANT BEER!” John leaned over the bar, grabbing for the beer he spotted,
but the bartender was too fast and he shoved John away, who was too drunk to
catch himself and landed on the floor in a heap.
“Get out now, the both of you.”
And that was how Paul got kicked out of his favorite bar. “Jooohhhnnn… Why’d
you have to do that? You’re already proper pissed right now.”
“S’not enough, Paulie.” John started walking, hopefully in the right direction.
“Wrong way.” Paul grabbed John’s shoulders and turned him in the right
direction.
“Wha’d I do withou’ ye?” John slurred.
“Probably walk off the port and drown.” John laughed, almost tripping and
falling again, but Paul righted him once more.
“Ye’d miss me too much.”
“Not enough to forgive you for getting me kicked out. Through that alley John.”
Paul had to grab John again as he missed their turn.
“Don’ worryyy ‘bout it. ‘ll find ye a new place, Paulliiee, wit’ cocktail
specials n ev’rythin’”
Paul smiles at him, a beaming smile that’s accompanied with a snicker and
suddenly it’s all too much for John. Paul is too much for John. And he finds
himself pushing Paul against the alley wall, holding Paul’s face and crushing
his lips onto those soft, pouty lips he’s been drinking to forget.
“JOHN!” Paul shoves John backwards, but John holds on to Paul and continues his
ministrations. “STOP! What are you do-?” And then John’s tongue invades Paul’s
mouth, caressing his tongue, interrupting Paul.
The loud resounding sound of Paul slapping John echoes through the alley.
Rubbing his red cheek, John groans “Why’d ye do dat, Paulie? That ‘urt.”
“John Lennon. I told you I’m waiting for my mate.”
“But that’s te beauty of et, innit?” John responds, pushing himself against
Paul again “M’ a man so yer not really cheatin’, are ye?”
John’s mouth descend back onto Paul’s, but Paul shoves him, harder this time,
causing the man to stumble back and lean against the opposite wall “That’s not
how it works John.”
No one says anything. John doesn’t move and Paul keeps his fists clenched. The
silence between them is unusual. Paul is always humming or whistling and John
always has a witty retort ready, but for now, there’s nothing.
John leans over and Paul backs up, ready to defend himself again, when he finds
that John is throwing up instead. “What the fuck, John? I didn’t realize you
were that drunk. Let’s get you home.”
And suddenly Paul has forgotten everything and turned back into a mother hen,
holding John up as they walk. He tucks John in when they arrive without
thinking about it, taking off his shoes and fluffing John’s pillow.
In the morning, John remembers nothing, but Paul can’t forget the feel of
John’s rough lips on his, and he almost cries because he shouldn’t feel this
way about anyone besides his soulmate.
...
***** Wearing Raincoats *****
John waited alone in the house on Blomfield Road.
And waited.
Julia was supposed to be here to cook dinner a while ago, but John supposed she
got distracted by Mimi, as they were want to do nowadays.
A knock interrupted his musings. Opening the door, John queried, “Mum, why’d
you knock o-?”
It was Mimi, who stepped inside and softly said, “John. We need to talk.”
“What about? Where’s Mum?”
“She’s not coming, John.”
Laughing, John sat down. “Yeah yeah. When’s she coming back? Is she back at
Mendips?”
“John, I’m serious. Julia… Julia got hit by a car.”
“What?”
“She didn’t make it John.”
“Shut up Mimi.”
“John-“
“I SAID SHUT UP MIMI! STOP YOUR BLOODY LYING!”
“JOHN!” Mimi shouted as she slapped John across the face. “Julia’s gone. She’s
not coming back.”
And then Mimi’s crying and so is John.
And he can’t look at the body when he’s taken to the hospital to see her. Nor
can he bear to look at anything besides Mimi’s lap throughout the funeral.
…
It’s been a week since Paul has seen John. He doesn’t know what he’s done to
John, but he calls and calls and no one answers the phone. John doesn’t show up
for practice, leaving Paul to lead the group halfheartedly.
After the second missed practice, Paul decided to go talk to John himself, but
it takes another two days to convince himself to face an angry John and Mimi’s
glares. Sure, John and Paul have fought before, numerous times, but John had
never went this long without contacting Paul. Besides, Paul has absolutely no
idea what he had done.
When Paul knocks, it takes a while before the door opens, to the point that
Paul has turned away when Mimi opens the door, a tumbler of scotch in her hand.
“What do you want, Mr. McCartney?”
“Can I see John?”
“Now’s not a good time.” Mimi goes to close the door but Paul puts his hand on
it, stopping her.
“Please? I just really need to know why he hasn’t talked to me.”
“You don’t know?” Paul stares blankly at her. “Julia died.”
Paul’s stomach drops and suddenly he feels like he’s 14 again, hearing about
his mother for the first time. “She-she’s really dead? But… What about John?”
“John is… John is keeping to himself in his room.”
And hearing that is all it takes for Paul’s conviction to return. He has to see
John. He can’t let him be by himself right now. He needed to know Paul was
there for him. “Please let me see him Mimi.”
Mimi sighs, opening the door wider to let Paul in. “Fine, but this better not
be a mistake.”
“I promise it won’t be.” He hopes to god it isn’t.
Paul knocks on John’s bedroom door, opening it a little to spy John lying in
bed.
“Fuck off Mimi.”
“John?” Paul murmurs, stepping into the room and gently uncovering John’s face
from the covers. His eyes are bloodshot and there are bags underneath his eyes.
His hair is tangled and knotted and it is quite obvious it has been a while
since John has showered. “When’s the last time you’ve showered? When’s the last
time you’ve left this house?”
“What does it matter?”
“John. Sometimes you have to force yourself to do normal things in order to
move on. You don’t want to, but it helps more than this… whatever this is.”
John turns away from Paul, facing the wall to speak. “Why the fuck should you
care, Paul? You don’t know anything about how I feel.”
Paul bites his lip nervously. Though he felt like he could tell John anything,
he hasn’t talked about his mom. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, to
anyone. He’d rather keep it to himself and leave it alone, like a scar or a
birthmark that was plain to see, but everybody politely ignored it to spare
your feelings.
He feels like he’s scratching at that scab again when he speaks up “I know
you’ve noticed me mum isn’t really in the picture. Don’t act like you haven’t,
John.” John turns back around so he thinks John is at least trying to listen.
“She died when I was 14. She had cancer and they tried to stop the spread, but
the surgery that was supposed to fix her killed her instead.”
“Paul...”
“So yes. I know you feel like everything is your fault, how you should’ve done
this or that and how you should’ve been a better person to her and you regret
every little time you acted out or didn’t say you loved her.” And now John is
sobbing and Paul is whispering because he can’t stand to even hear himself
speak, “Nothing seems worth it, because the one person who’s supposed to love
you no matter what is gone, and you’re never going to get that love again.”
John grasps onto Paul’s hand, so hard that Paul thinks he might break it.
John’s voice is shaky when he whispers, “How do I make it go away? Please,
Paul, I don’t want to feel this way.”
“You don’t. You start by facing the day and focusing on the good memories.
Eventually, it’ll dull, but it’ll never go completely away. You have people to
depend on, who will be there for you John, like Mimi and your soulmate.”
“And you?”
“And me.” Paul has started petting John’s head, ignoring the tangles. When
John’s sob stop, he continues for a while, determined to rub away every bad
feeling John has, but knows he can’t. When John looks like he is about to
sleep, Paul speaks up again, “I’m going to start a shower for you. You’re going
to wash up and then we’re going to eat dinner with Mimi, ok? I’ll put on a
record, your favorite one even.”
John nods reluctantly and Paul figures that’s the only answer he’ll get. He
turns on the shower and herds John toward it when the water is the perfect
temperature. While John is showering, he puts on Elvis and sets a clean set of
clothes on the bathroom counter for John to change into when he’s done.
It’s the longest shower in the world, or at least that’s what it feels like to
Paul. He even manages to change John’s sheets before the man exits the
bathroom. The bags under his eyes are still there, but his hair is clean and
his eyes even look less bloodshot. It’s a baby step, but Paul knows how
important every step is.
John’s hair is sopping wet, dripping onto his t-shirt, so Paul grabs a towel
from the bathroom and rubs it against John’s hair, laughing “Here you go,
silly. Wouldn’t want you to get sick now, would we?”
“I… I haven’t eaten in a while, actually… Can we eat now?” John admits shyly,
looking down at the floor. Paul smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard
John say, and he’s pretty sure it is.
Paul grabs John’s hand, leading him downstairs. In the kitchen, Mimi gasps at
the sight of John, who she hasn’t seen outside of his room in days. Because
both John and Mimi are silent, staring at each other, Paul speaks up instead,
“Hey Mimi, can we join you for dinner? John’s pretty hungry.”
Mimi jumps into action immediately. “Of course. Sit down, the both of you.”
John and Paul watch as Mimi finishes cooking dinner. When she plates the food,
she gives more than usual to John and she doesn’t glare at Paul, still staring
at John instead.
John eats slowly, but he does eat. Paul almost forgets that John has yet to
release his hand and he’s silently glad that he’s left-handed and he can still
eat without forcing John to let go. Mimi talks about neighbors and friends and
John manages to even make a joke about the poor neighbor who can’t keep her
flowers from dying.
After dinner, Paul puts on another record, but John starts yawning at the
beginning of side B, so Paul calls it a day and doesn’t put on another. When
settled into bed, Paul is almost asleep when John speaks up, “Paul. I’m sorry
about earlier. I noticed. I just-“
“I already know John. It’s okay.”
John is silent for a while before he whispers so quietly that he has difficulty
even hearing himself. “C-can you hold me? Just for tonight?” The only response
is Paul’s warm arms surrounding John.
It’s the best damn sleep John’s had since his mom died.
And in the morning, waking up to Paul’s serene face and warm body, John comes
to an important realization.
Fuck Macca. He didn’t need Macca. He needed Paul McCartney, just like this.
And he frankly didn’t give a fuck about Paul’s mate either.
***** Sending Postcards *****
The charming of Paul McCartney was more difficult than John had anticipated. If
the git has noticed John’s advances, he hasn’t acknowledged them. John has
pulled every trick he knows, every flirt, every look, and every touch that has
always worked with the birds. But as days pass and John slowly heals from
Julia’s death, he finds that he just becomes more determined to make Paul his,
noticing more and more about the younger man that drives him crazy. If Paul is
similarly affected, John cannot tell.
Every time Paul spends the night, John waits until he hears the younger man’s
breathing evens out before wrapping Paul’s arms around him. He lets Paul find
them like that in the morning and Paul starts distancing himself from John when
they first lay down to sleep, to the point where he starts lying on the floor.
John nips that in the bud by pretending to have nightmares about Julia (well
most of them were real, but no one needs to know that), causing Paul to sleep
in the bed again.
Though it takes Paul a while to drag John out to gatherings and parties, when
he does, John distracts him from leaving his side, isolating him from the party
by keeping Paul in a corner with him and talking through the night. He always
acts more pissed than he really is, making his advances more obvious. This just
causes Paul to cut his drinking down.
He’s done everything by the books. Hell, John even caught a cat and tried to
give it to Paul, but Jim kicked it out, saying “I already have enough mouths to
feed.” He ends up keeping the cat and Paul plays with it every time he’s over.
To be honest, John almost admired how dedicated Paul was to his soulmate. But
John knew Paul was better than anyone else in the world, even better than
Macca. He even considered having Paul’s name tattooed on him, to convince Paul
he only needed John and not some other fucker, but John took one look at that
needle and immediately left the tattoo parlor.
But Paul notices, oh he thinks about John all the time. When he’s sleeping he
dreams of a better world where John is actually his, because Paul is already
sure that he’s John’s. He doesn’t encourage John’s advances because he knows
once John meets his mate, John will leave him forever, leaving Paul to pine
after a man who doesn’t love him forever. But Paul also doesn’t stop John,
because he’s too sick in the mind, too fucked up to let this go willingly,
however fleeting it may be.
In the moments when John leaves Paul’s mind, he can’t help but feel like he’s a
horrible person for letting this happen. He was meant to give his heart to
Johnny, not someone else, even if that someone else is handsome and witty, with
a dry and caustic humor that never fails to make Paul laugh.
…
After Julia’s death, John takes more than a month to come back to practice, but
when he comes back, George immediately notices that things are much different.
Paul is spending almost every day with John. George knows because he’s asked
Paul out for the past week and Paul is somehow always busy. John is always
touching Paul, always so close to him that sometimes they trip over each other
and Paul wonders why. When they sing, John makes it a point to keep their lips
close, barely an inch apart from kissing.
When John is there, Paul is all blushes and smiles, but George is the only one
to notice his guilty looks when John steps out and the songs Paul writes are
now sad, tinged with regret. One even begs for forgiveness. George doesn’t
think they’ve done anything, not with the way John acts, all flirty and posing
as if pulling a bird. And even though Paul has obviously betrayed his soulmate
emotionally, he doubts Paul could ever bring himself to betray them physically
as well.
Even though George is afraid of speaking to John, deathly so in fact, he knows
he has to for Paul, because Paul is also too afraid to talk to John about it.
So after practice at George’s house one day, George pulls John to the side
after Paul has already left.
“You need to stop, John, for Paul’s sake.”
“What you on about, Georgie?”
“I know you’ve never cared about saving yourself, but Paul does. It’s important
to him.”
“I haven’t done anything with him.”
“Yet. Out of anyone, you’ll hurt him the most.”
And George makes an executive decision for Paul because John needs to find out
anyways. “John, Paul’s mate is also named John. That’s why you can’t do this,
it’s wrong and it’s confusing Paul.”
“Really? Then what's stopping me from being Paul's mate?”
“Don’t even go there John. Paul needs his real mate, not some fake like you.
Just like I need Ritchie, and you need whoever the fuck it is.”
Suddenly, George finds himself crushed against the wall, John’s arms holding
him in place and John is gritting out, “I know what’s best for Paul. I’m his
best mate, not you. Get over it. He’s mine, not yours and not some other
fuckwit’s.”
“You barely know Paul. You’ve known him for, what, a year? You don’t know what
his mum got him for his sixth birthday or how his dad tried to get him to do
piano lessons, but he wasn’t having it. For Christ’s sakes, John, you don’t
even call him Macca like all his bloody friends do. Seriously, what kind of
friend would do this fucked up thing to Paul? Don’t you have any sort of
decency?”
John doesn’t answer, his face has turned white and he’s relaxed his grip on
George. “Macca?... Did you just say Macca?”
George rolls his eyes, shoving John’s hands off of him. “That’s what you focus
on? Yes, Macca as in the nickname for dudes with Mc in their last names? What,
have you been living underneath a rock?”
“Paul is… Paul is Macca?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
John has already turned away, walking toward the door and away from George, but
George isn’t having it and grabs John, turning him to face each other again.
“John, don’t ignore me. You have to promise to stop doing this to Paul. It’s
hurting him.”
“No. I’m not promising anything. He’s mine.” John pulls up his shirt, showing
the younger male his hipbone, where his soulmark stood out starkly against his
skin. Seeing George’s blank expression and open mouth, John laughed. “Shocked?
Let me read it out for you then. M-A-C-C-A Macca! Meaning I’m not some fake and
you can fuck off.”
When John leaves, determined to find Paul, no Macca, as soon as possible, he
hears George yell in shock, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”
***** Lifting Latches *****
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the wait dears, but this was a long chapter to write. There
     is sex in this chapter, so be forewarned.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Paul awoke suddenly, wondering what had awoken him from his slumber. Seeing
nothing, he settled back down and closed his eyes when he heard something hit
his window. Determined to ignore it, he scrunched his eyelids tighter, but the
sound once again reverberated throughout his room. Sighing, he stumbled to his
window to find John smiling up at him.
John waved, gesturing for Paul to open the window. When he did, Paul hissed
down to the older man, “John, what are you doing here?”
Already climbing up the pipe, John replied with some difficulty, “I have
somethin’ to tell you.”
“Couldn’t you have told me during practice? Or tomorrow?” Paul leaned down,
offering his hand to John, which John took gladly, and pulled him into Paul’s
bedroom.
“Nope. I absolutely couldn’t wait.”
For a moment, John just stared at Paul, smiling. He couldn’t believe that the
man before him was actually his to keep. Paul interrupted John’s reverie by
coughing, “Err, so what is it?”
“Paulie! I found my soulmate.”
Paul’s face crumpled in utter disappointment and grief for a moment, before the
younger man can compose himself. But John has seen it already and he almost
gives himself away by laughing in delight.
When Paul finally responds, his voice is hoarse and low. “T-that’s great, John.
Are you going to introduce me to them?”
“You’ve met them already actually.”
“Oh? Uh… who is it?”
John lifts his shirt up to show his soulmark for the second time today. “His
name is Macca.”
Paul is completely confused, and his face shows it. “I don’t know any Maccas
besides me.”
John steps closer, so close Paul can almost touch him. “Y’know, I had a talk
with George after you left. He told me your mate’s name. Johnny, wasn’t it?”
Paul silently cursed George as he stepped back, not able to handle being so
close to John without touching him. “He shouldn’t have told you. That’s me
secret to tell, not his.”
“But I’m so very glad he told me, otherwise I couldn’t do this.”
John lifted up his hands to hold Paul’s face, softly caressing his soft skin.
He lightly brushed his thumb across Paul’s soft, full lips before leaning down
and pressing his lips onto Paul’s. John’s lips were warm and slightly chapped
against Paul’s. He felt John’s tongue suddenly, soft and wet, slip into Paul’s
mouth which almost caused him to jump back in surprise and break the kiss, but
John moved one hand to the back of his head to stop him from moving back.
They stood there for what felt like hours, exploring each other’s mouths.
Occasionally, John would break the kiss to press his lips against Paul’s round
cheeks, his eyelids, his cute button nose, but he would always return to those
wonderful lips. Paul was in heaven and his knees were so weak. John’s grasp was
the only thing keeping him standing.
When John finally stopped, Paul groaned which caused John to chuckle. “Macca…
You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that. Even before I knew you were
Macca.”
“John…” Paul whispered, afraid to ruin the moment. “Are-Are you serious? We’re
really mates?”
“Yes, love.”
“So I can keep you? I mean, you’re not going to leave me.”
“I’m yours. You’re never going to get rid of me.” Paul smiled a toothy grin,
wrapping his arms tighter around John. “Can I see your soulmark?”
Paul stepped back, turning around and taking off his shirt to bare his shoulder
to John, where his soulmark spelled out “Johnny” in lazy cursive. John once
again wrapped himself around Paul, pressing his lips into the words that
proclaimed Paul as his, his forever.
“Oh god, Macca. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Paul leaned back onto John and yawned.
“Sleepy, love?”
“A little. Somebody did wake me up.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t wait.”
“Want to spend the night?”
“Never thought you’d ask.” John stripped down to his pants, grinning when he
noticed Paul smiling at his soulmark on his hip. John settled into bed, glad
for once that he didn’t have to wait until Paul slept to start cuddling.
Paul sighed, burrowing his face into John’s shoulder.
Interrupting the comfortable silence, John spoke up again, “Paul? M’ so happy
right now that it was you… but…”
“But?”
“I just… I wish me mum had known I found you.”
It’s silent for a moment until Paul unexpectedly laughs, suddenly remembering a
moment from months ago. “Johnny! She did know! She called me Macca when you
introduced me to her. Remember how weird she was acting?”
“That would definitely explain why she kept asking when you were coming over
next.”
~~~
Paul paced nervously in front of the house on Menlove Avenue, the bag he was
holding bumped against his knee, reminding him why he was here. He had been
with John for four wonderful months and they had done a lot together, but they
have yet to take that final step.
Suddenly, the door swung open, startling Paul from his reverie. “Macca! What’re
you doing out here? C’mon in.”
John was all smiles, not noticing the nervous glances from Paul as they walked
to John’s bedroom.
“Is Mimi here?”
“Nah, she’s gone off to some neighbors for the night. Sounded boring to me.”
“I have a gift for you.”
“What’d you get me, Macca?”
Paul passed the small bag over to John, who looked inside to find a bottle of
lube. Confused, John looked up at him, questioning “What? Does this mean?”
Paul blushed, looking at the floor. “I’m ready, Johnny.”
“You sure? We don’t have to if you aren’t ready dear?”
“I’m sure.” Paul crashed his lips into John’s, causing John to drop the bag and
hold Paul’s head with one hand and one at the small of his back. Paul nibbled
and sucked, teasing John’s lips before finally breaking the kiss and finding
John’s neck to lick and love.
John reached in between and grasped Paul’s already hard cock. Paul bucked into
his hand and moaned against John’s throat.
“You’re already hard for me, love?”
“Couldn’t help it. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
John groaned at that and rubbed Paul harder. Paul tugged at John’s shirt,
muttering, “Take this off, Johnny.”
Once he did, Paul wrapped his lips around John’s nipple, sucking lightly as he
worked on taking John’s trousers off. He walked John to the bed and pushed him
down to sit.
Once the trousers and pants were gone, Paul kneeled in between John’s knees. He
licked John’s quickly hardening dick from the base to the tip, achingly slow.
“Mmm Macca, please.”
The younger man wrapped his lips around John and slowly bobbed his head up and
down, going deeper each time he went down. He tried his hardest to take every
inch down his throat but found himself gagging. John was groaning and had
wrapped his fingers in Paul’s thick hair, encouraging him.
“That’s so fucking sexy Macca.”
Paul hummed in approval around John, the vibrations causing John to swear. The
younger man let go of John with a sharp pop.
“You’re still dressed, baby,” John whispered, stripping Paul as he led the man
to lie down on the bed. Seeing Paul’s hard as rock cock, John kissed the tip.
“Just for me, huh? You’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“Had to wank twice this morning so I could walk here.” Paul groaned out.
John grabbed the bottle of lube, coating his fingers with the slippery
substance. He slowly inserted one finger into Paul, groaning at the tightness.
“I don’t know, Macca. You’re so tight, I don’t think my big cock can fit in.”
“Johnny…” Paul gasped as he felt a second finger insert inside him as John’s
other hand wrapped around Paul’s dick. “Please make me yours.”
Snogging the beauty beneath him, John continued to scissor and slowly fist
Paul. Even though he felt Paul was ready for him, he kept up the ministrations
so he could calm down. He was so close already and he didn’t want Paul’s first
time to end up with him coming too soon.
“Johnny, please fuck me.” But John couldn’t deny Paul’s begging so he lathered
his cock in lube, lined his prick with Paul’s entrance and slowly, oh so
slowly, pushed in.
Paul was so tight and hot around John. Pausing once he was completely inside,
John just gazed down at his mate, admiring his beauty while he gave him time to
get used to the feeling of his cock inside him.
Paul pushed against John, who chuckled at his love’s impatience before slowly
thrusting in and out of his lover. At first, it was painful for Paul, but with
each thrust, the pleasure grew, until John hit something that caused Paul to
buck and yelp.
“Oh god, Johnny, hit that again!”
John angled himself so he hit that spot over and over. Paul’s moans became so
loud, John had to kiss him hard to muffle them.
But how he loved those sounds and he knew he was so close, so John started to
fist Paul’s cock.
Paul wanted this to last forever, but John’s thrust had become fast and erratic
and the hand around his cock became too much. “Johnny! I’m about to…”
“I know love. Me too. Cum for me dear.”
And then Paul came so hard, he swore he saw stars, his cock pulsing as he
released all over his stomach.
Paul tightened even harder on his dick, milking him, and making John shoot his
cum deep inside Paul.
John collapsed and the two stayed silent for a solid minute, just listening to
the other breath.
The auburn-haired man spoke first, interrupting the silence, “Macca… that was
so good. I’m so glad you waited for me. Only I will ever get to see you like
this.”
“You were well worth the wait, Johnny.”
“I’m…” John swallowed nervously as he burrowed his face into Paul’s neck. “I’m
sorry I didn’t wait for you. You deserve better.”
Lifting John’s face to meet his, Paul captured John’s lips in a fiery kiss
before responding. “I don’t care. I have you now. I… I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And John could safely say that there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in
Paul’s arms
 
Hamburg, 1960
“Georgie has a cruuushhh!!!” John sang, noticing the man was, once again,
staring up at the Rory Storm and the Hurricanes’s drummer.
“Oh, Come off it, John.” George snapped back.
“Couldn’t just have every bird in Hamburg, huh? You have to go for every lad
also?”
Saving him, Paul sat down, passing out the drinks he’d just wheedled out of the
barmaid. “Johnny, if George wants to be a manwhore, let him be a manwhore.”
Nevermind, Paul McCartney was evil.
“HEY!” George stammered out, “I just want to be a good proper lover for my
Ritchie. It’d be better if I knew how to have sex with a man instead of
guessing like you two.”
John sniggered, taking a big gulp from his pint. “Now, now, Georgie, we figured
it out. Besides you can always ask us how to do it.”
“Uh uh. No way! You tried to tell me birds liked their assholes licked! That
one bird slapped me for it!”
Paul coughed into his fist, nervous, before stammering out. “Well… uh… Ritchie
might like that one.”
Connecting the dots, George’s face twisted in disgust, “What? Oh my god. I did
not need to know that about your sex life. I’m goin’ to throw up now.”
As George went off to the bathroom, presumably to try to forget what Paul had
said, the band on stage finished their set. As the drummer passed them, John
spoke up, “Hey you! Drummer boy! Err, Rings? Or something like that! Come sit
with us!”
Paul elbowed John, whispering, “What are you doing, Johnny?”
“Getting our guitarist laid so I can stop watching him pine over this guy,”
John whispered back before speaking up again, “I’ll buy you a beer!”
Ringo sat down across from the couple, smiling. “Well, I can’t refuse a beer.
You come on before us, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m John Lennon and this is my mate, Paul McCartney.” God, John still
loved to introduce Paul as his mate, even after all this time. “You’re Rings?
Or something like that?”
Accepting Paul’s handshake and John’s beer, Ringo only responded once he took a
gulp of beer and lit his cigarette. “Me stage name is Ringo Starr, but me real
name is Richard Starkey. Me friends call me Ritchie though.”
Paul almost dropped his beer. “Oh shit. Did you just say Ritchie?”
“Yeah, why?”
Paul shared a look with John before leaning closer to the drummer, almost
whispering when he spoke, “You wouldn’t happen to have a mate named George or
Georgie or something like that, would you?”
Looking confused, Ringo simply nodded. John slapped Ringo’s shoulder, shouting.
“Well, my man! I have someone you definitely need to meet!”
Chapter End Notes
     I believe this is the end! Though I believe there are many things
     that would change based on the whole soulmate concept, I cannot
     foresee any way of continuing this without a lot of time skips. If
     there is enough interest, I may make some one-shots about how I think
     Beatles history would change with this development.
     Once again, I am thankful for everyone's support and love. It
     definitely helped me finish this very first fanfiction of mine. Every
     time I was not feeling it, I would read everyone's comments to
     encourage myself.
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