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@ask-rtdkjohn
āItās you, isnāt it? How many times have you tried the kangaroo costume in the last three years? Youāve never once hired it!ā
āāāāāāā
Come in, then. Name's John. This page is for my fancy dress rental business, but let's be honest, now it's nothing but lunatics stopping here to waste my time. Well? Out with it.
John I need to cut off some of the kangaroo suit for an experiment please
What??? I mean Iām not the one who has it right now, Ringo does- it was still best you asked me though, of course.
Whatā¦kind of experiment? I feel like Iām going to regret asking.
I wanna cut some of it off and stitch it to another piece of clothing and see if the door still works.
??? Okay???
So like, the holy water thing?
I mean, at this point Iāve accepted I probably wonāt get that costume back. Not that I care too much, at least itās with someone I know. And what business was that bloody thing really getting me?
So, sure. Do it. If anything Iām curious too.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
Paul was pointedly not making eye contact with John, he felt too awful to do so. His hands slipped from his chest, ending up resting on his hips, not pushing or pulling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away any tears that might fall, he was already humiliating himself, he didn't want to look pathetic on top of that. Though, he suspected he already did.
But, unfortunately for him, sheer force of will wasn't enough to keep himself from crying, years of pent of emotion have got to spill out sometime, y'know. So he stood there feeling like dirt, too prideful to pull John in for comfort, but finding that he couldn't let go of him, fingers curling into the fabric at his hips.
The moment John saw the tears, whatever argument he'd still been carrying finally fell away.
His words came out barely above a whisper.
Oh, love...
He stepped forward fully this time, bringing a hand up to the back of Paul's head before pulling him in without another word.
His hand moved slowly through Paul's hair, just as he had done before.
I know.
I know.
Paul let out a small noise from the back of his throat, unintentional and quite pathetic, as his head hit John's chest. His hands moved fully around the other man, bunching up the fabric of his shirt with how hard he was holding on.
M'sorry, so sorry.
He sniffled, momentarily focusing on nothing but John's hand in his hair.
I'll stop in a minute justā just give me a moment.
It came out muffled into John's chest, soft and much too vulnerable sounding for Paul's liking, though he supposed he couldn't sink much lower than this.
John's arm tightened around him slightly.
Don't.
He continued to lightly stroke Paul's hair. Still so beautiful, even as it greyed.
You've got nothing to be sorry for, and you're allowed longer than a minute.
For a moment, he just stood there and held him.
ā¦Weāll figure it out. We will.
I do though, haven't I?
'm so difficult.
I know I am, I don't want to be.
He murmured, turning his head a bit to subtly breathe in a smell he'd been missing for years, and finding with satisfaction that John hadn't changed.
Mm. That feels nice, Johnny. Keep that up, yeah?
He said, so soft that he wasn't even sure he'd done more than think it. He let his eyes flutter shut, the tears had mostly subsided, a few strays slipping down his cheeks.
John let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Difficult?
His fingers continued their slow combing through Paul's hair.
Paul, I've known you half my life. I know exactly how difficult you are.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a weak smile.
And I'm still here.
His hand settled briefly against the back of Paul's head as he paused, before returning to its motions when John found his voice again.
God, I came all the way over here to tell you I couldn't keep pretending anymore.
His voice softened.
You really think I'd do that if I wanted someone else?
He sighed, relaxing further into the man holding him, stubbornness be damned.
Well, y'know.. I suppose you're stubborn too, else you wouldn't still be here.
He let out a little laugh, breathless.
I suppose you're right, much as it pains me to say it. God, how many hoops have you jumped through just for me, Quite desperate isn't it? C'mon Johnny, I can't be that good.
He'd made himself giggle once again, fingers loosening in the back of John's shirt, he wasn't so scared anymore after all.
John shook his head faintly, a smile fully forming at the sound of Paul's laughter.
You keep talking like there ought to be a better reason.
Iām here because itās you.
And itās always been you.
His fingers paused in Paul's hair.
Andā¦if you would, I'd quite like it to keep being you.
He tensed slightly, pausing for only a moment before going lax again, almost reluctantly. As if he wasn't over the moon in his heart.
I.... Suppose we can try.
So long as you're aware it may not work.
I don't want to disappoint you, y'know, I mean, in case it's not all you expected it to be.
He chuckled in slight self-deprecation, finally lifting his head out of John's chest to make eye contact with him.
I don't want to tell my son until I'm sure this'll work, if that's alright. Only because I'd hate to give and remove another parent after his mother.
John stayed still for a moment after Paul spoke, his hand moving to Paulās shoulder, thumb idly brushing against it.
Alright.
We donāt have to make it perfect.
His gaze softened slightly.
And we donāt have to make it public before youāre ready.
ā¦We just take it as it comes.
John I need to cut off some of the kangaroo suit for an experiment please
What??? I mean Iām not the one who has it right now, Ringo does- it was still best you asked me though, of course.
Whatā¦kind of experiment? I feel like Iām going to regret asking.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
Paul was pointedly not making eye contact with John, he felt too awful to do so. His hands slipped from his chest, ending up resting on his hips, not pushing or pulling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away any tears that might fall, he was already humiliating himself, he didn't want to look pathetic on top of that. Though, he suspected he already did.
But, unfortunately for him, sheer force of will wasn't enough to keep himself from crying, years of pent of emotion have got to spill out sometime, y'know. So he stood there feeling like dirt, too prideful to pull John in for comfort, but finding that he couldn't let go of him, fingers curling into the fabric at his hips.
The moment John saw the tears, whatever argument he'd still been carrying finally fell away.
His words came out barely above a whisper.
Oh, love...
He stepped forward fully this time, bringing a hand up to the back of Paul's head before pulling him in without another word.
His hand moved slowly through Paul's hair, just as he had done before.
I know.
I know.
Paul let out a small noise from the back of his throat, unintentional and quite pathetic, as his head hit John's chest. His hands moved fully around the other man, bunching up the fabric of his shirt with how hard he was holding on.
M'sorry, so sorry.
He sniffled, momentarily focusing on nothing but John's hand in his hair.
I'll stop in a minute justā just give me a moment.
It came out muffled into John's chest, soft and much too vulnerable sounding for Paul's liking, though he supposed he couldn't sink much lower than this.
John's arm tightened around him slightly.
Don't.
He continued to lightly stroke Paul's hair. Still so beautiful, even as it greyed.
You've got nothing to be sorry for, and you're allowed longer than a minute.
For a moment, he just stood there and held him.
ā¦Weāll figure it out. We will.
I do though, haven't I?
'm so difficult.
I know I am, I don't want to be.
He murmured, turning his head a bit to subtly breathe in a smell he'd been missing for years, and finding with satisfaction that John hadn't changed.
Mm. That feels nice, Johnny. Keep that up, yeah?
He said, so soft that he wasn't even sure he'd done more than think it. He let his eyes flutter shut, the tears had mostly subsided, a few strays slipping down his cheeks.
John let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Difficult?
His fingers continued their slow combing through Paul's hair.
Paul, I've known you half my life. I know exactly how difficult you are.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a weak smile.
And I'm still here.
His hand settled briefly against the back of Paul's head as he paused, before returning to its motions when John found his voice again.
God, I came all the way over here to tell you I couldn't keep pretending anymore.
His voice softened.
You really think I'd do that if I wanted someone else?
He sighed, relaxing further into the man holding him, stubbornness be damned.
Well, y'know.. I suppose you're stubborn too, else you wouldn't still be here.
He let out a little laugh, breathless.
I suppose you're right, much as it pains me to say it. God, how many hoops have you jumped through just for me, Quite desperate isn't it? C'mon Johnny, I can't be that good.
He'd made himself giggle once again, fingers loosening in the back of John's shirt, he wasn't so scared anymore after all.
John shook his head faintly, a smile fully forming at the sound of Paul's laughter.
You keep talking like there ought to be a better reason.
Iām here because itās you.
And itās always been you.
His fingers paused in Paul's hair.
Andā¦if you would, I'd quite like it to keep being you.
I am back and aware of tumblrs existence I may need a few hours till Iām good tho
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
Paul was pointedly not making eye contact with John, he felt too awful to do so. His hands slipped from his chest, ending up resting on his hips, not pushing or pulling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away any tears that might fall, he was already humiliating himself, he didn't want to look pathetic on top of that. Though, he suspected he already did.
But, unfortunately for him, sheer force of will wasn't enough to keep himself from crying, years of pent of emotion have got to spill out sometime, y'know. So he stood there feeling like dirt, too prideful to pull John in for comfort, but finding that he couldn't let go of him, fingers curling into the fabric at his hips.
The moment John saw the tears, whatever argument he'd still been carrying finally fell away.
His words came out barely above a whisper.
Oh, love...
He stepped forward fully this time, bringing a hand up to the back of Paul's head before pulling him in without another word.
His hand moved slowly through Paul's hair, just as he had done before.
I know.
I know.
Paul let out a small noise from the back of his throat, unintentional and quite pathetic, as his head hit John's chest. His hands moved fully around the other man, bunching up the fabric of his shirt with how hard he was holding on.
M'sorry, so sorry.
He sniffled, momentarily focusing on nothing but John's hand in his hair.
I'll stop in a minute justā just give me a moment.
It came out muffled into John's chest, soft and much too vulnerable sounding for Paul's liking, though he supposed he couldn't sink much lower than this.
John's arm tightened around him slightly.
Don't.
He continued to lightly stroke Paul's hair. Still so beautiful, even as it greyed.
You've got nothing to be sorry for, and you're allowed longer than a minute.
For a moment, he just stood there and held him.
ā¦Weāll figure it out. We will.
I do though, haven't I?
'm so difficult.
I know I am, I don't want to be.
He murmured, turning his head a bit to subtly breathe in a smell he'd been missing for years, and finding with satisfaction that John hadn't changed.
Mm. That feels nice, Johnny. Keep that up, yeah?
He said, so soft that he wasn't even sure he'd done more than think it. He let his eyes flutter shut, the tears had mostly subsided, a few strays slipping down his cheeks.
John let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Difficult?
His fingers continued their slow combing through Paul's hair.
Paul, I've known you half my life. I know exactly how difficult you are.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a weak smile.
And I'm still here.
His hand settled briefly against the back of Paul's head as he paused, before returning to its motions when John found his voice again.
God, I came all the way over here to tell you I couldn't keep pretending anymore.
His voice softened.
You really think I'd do that if I wanted someone else?
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
Paul was pointedly not making eye contact with John, he felt too awful to do so. His hands slipped from his chest, ending up resting on his hips, not pushing or pulling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away any tears that might fall, he was already humiliating himself, he didn't want to look pathetic on top of that. Though, he suspected he already did.
But, unfortunately for him, sheer force of will wasn't enough to keep himself from crying, years of pent of emotion have got to spill out sometime, y'know. So he stood there feeling like dirt, too prideful to pull John in for comfort, but finding that he couldn't let go of him, fingers curling into the fabric at his hips.
The moment John saw the tears, whatever argument he'd still been carrying finally fell away.
His words came out barely above a whisper.
Oh, love...
He stepped forward fully this time, bringing a hand up to the back of Paul's head before pulling him in without another word.
His hand moved slowly through Paul's hair, just as he had done before.
I know.
I know.
Paul let out a small noise from the back of his throat, unintentional and quite pathetic, as his head hit John's chest. His hands moved fully around the other man, bunching up the fabric of his shirt with how hard he was holding on.
M'sorry, so sorry.
He sniffled, momentarily focusing on nothing but John's hand in his hair.
I'll stop in a minute justā just give me a moment.
It came out muffled into John's chest, soft and much too vulnerable sounding for Paul's liking, though he supposed he couldn't sink much lower than this.
John's arm tightened around him slightly.
Don't.
He continued to lightly stroke Paul's hair. Still so beautiful, even as it greyed.
You've got nothing to be sorry for, and you're allowed longer than a minute.
For a moment, he just stood there and held him.
ā¦Weāll figure it out. We will.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
Paul was pointedly not making eye contact with John, he felt too awful to do so. His hands slipped from his chest, ending up resting on his hips, not pushing or pulling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away any tears that might fall, he was already humiliating himself, he didn't want to look pathetic on top of that. Though, he suspected he already did.
But, unfortunately for him, sheer force of will wasn't enough to keep himself from crying, years of pent of emotion have got to spill out sometime, y'know. So he stood there feeling like dirt, too prideful to pull John in for comfort, but finding that he couldn't let go of him, fingers curling into the fabric at his hips.
The moment John saw the tears, whatever argument he'd still been carrying finally fell away.
His words came out barely above a whisper.
Oh, love...
He stepped forward fully this time, bringing a hand up to the back of Paul's head before pulling him in without another word.
His hand moved slowly through Paul's hair, just as he had done before.
I know.
I know.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
He took a step back, looking at John, wide eyed and slightly less uncomfortable with the situation than he should've been.
M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I didn't.
He braced his hands against John's chest, preventing him from closing any more distance. Paul feared he wouldn't be able to resist throwing himself at the older man should he get too close.
You do, you deserve the world Johnny. And more. But I just ā
...
I can't do this. I've never loved anybody the way I love you.
God, John. I wish you were a woman.
John went still the moment Paulās hands pressed against his chest, not stepping forward nor backing off.
ā¦Paul.
His voice came out quieter than before as his expression shifted between fear and concern.
Donāt say that, thatās not-
He stopped himself, breath catching slightly, jaw tensing as if he was trying to hold too many thoughts in at once.
For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard.
When he looked back, his voice was steadier.
Well, even though Iām not, Iām still here.
And Iām still me.
His gaze dropped briefly to Paulās hands against his chest, then lifted again.
We can keep it between us. If thatās what you need.
But donāt stand there and tell me it canāt exist at all. Please.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
Doesn't it? How can it not be one or the other, John. Either you don't get the attention you deserve to have, or my job doesn't.
I don't want to keep you a secret, you deserve better than me that. You must know that you do.
He sighed again, trying to breathe. Dragging his hands down his face, forcing himself to look back at John. God but he was handsome wasn't he, lovely nose and gorgeous eyes, and Paul had always thought he looked so lovely with his specs on.
And of course he loved him, how could he not? John knew more about him than any woman ever had. And he liked to think he knew John just as well, at least he did, it made him physically ill to think about how much he'd missed because he had been a git.
Something flashed across John's face then, sharper than anything he'd shown so far.
No.
He shook his head immediately.
No, you don't get to decide that.
The words came out firmer than he'd intended, but he didn't take them back.
Youāre still not the one who decides that!
The frustration ebbed from his voice as he continued.
He took another step forward.
Paul, I've spent years missing you.
Years.
And if you're asking me what I think I deserve after all that?
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped him, voice wavering.
I think I deserve the chance to properly love the man I've been wanting all this time.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
I'm not saying you imagined it, John, But I justā
You know what people would think, I mean, being queer isn't criminal anymore, but John I'm a politician. How do you think people would react? This isā
It's all I have.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily through his nose. Though that didn't last long before his face was instead buried in his hands, hiding. Always hiding. When wasn't he, nowadays?
And my son, I can't justā Johnny, God, Johnny. why do you make me do this.
I have to refuse you, you know that.
If I lose my job, then I have nothing, and if I fall out of favor with the public, then when it comes time for being reinstated, I certainly won't be.
God, I do love you, don't make me choose.
Please.
John went very still while Paul spoke.
When Paul finally broke, John let out a slow breath, something in him finally stopping trying to fight the shape of the situation.
After a moment, John sighed, though he was somewhat panicking himself.
Alright, listen to me.
Iām not asking you to lose anything.
Iām not asking you to stand in front of anyone and announce it.
His eyes stayed on Paul, even through the hands hiding his face.
Iām notā¦Iām not asking you to choose between me and your life.
He hesitated a bit, pausing before taking a step closer.
Iām asking you to stop acting like it has to be one or the other.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
His hand dropped away from John's face almost immediately, as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide, and he stared down at the man with such hurt bewilderment that it surprised even himself.
What?
It came out through a laugh, not a real one. Some sort of surprised breathy noise, it certainly wasn't made consciously
Johnnyā John, you can't just..
I'm not, I mean, you know I'm not a..
..
....
Don't make me refuse you, God you know I can't do that. Please, please don'tā I meanā
John stared back at him for a moment, brow furrowing.
Why can't you?
The question came out quieter than he'd intended.
Paul.
He shook his head slightly.
We've spent half our lives orbiting each other.
We can't sit here and act like I imagined all of it.
The silence was long and uncomfortable.
You said you couldn't refuse me.
You donāt have to.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
I don't mind, you know I don't.
He hummed, brushing John's hair off of his face, his touch featherlight, before giving him a firm look, gesturing to his water.
Yeah? Well, go on then.
John finally lifted the glass properly, taking a slow sip more to give himself a second to think than anything else.
He set it back down carefully.
ā¦Right.
He paused.
Itās not exactly easy to say out loud.
His gaze flicked briefly away, then back to Paul.
But I canāt keep pretending I donāt know what this is between us anymore.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at John as he filled a glass of water from the tap, smiling almost fondly.
Christ Johnny, speak to you again for barely a day and I've already gone back to taking care of you.
Paul returned to John's side, as he always did, and handed him the water.
Where's your head at, hm? You look dreadful.
John took the glass, but didnāt drink straight away.
ā¦Yeah. I probably do.
He glanced up properly at Paul now.
Youāve always had a habit of doing that.
Looking after me like nothingās changed.
He paused.
ā¦Thatās kind of what I came about.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
You really don't seem alright, John. Have you come down with something?
He brought his hand up to John's head, pushing his bangs back to feel for a temperature, not noticing the flush on his cheeks.
Hm. You do feel warm. Why don't you sit down, I'll get you some water. If you're not feeling well, you really should go home, rest y'know?
John swatted half-heartedly at Paul's hand as it lingered near his forehead.
I'm not ill, Paul, I-
He stopped himself with a sigh.
Honestly, arguing the point felt exhausting.
With a muttered complaint that didn't really go anywhere, he let himself be guided toward a chair and sat down.
For the record, thatās not why Iām here.
John stood outside the door for more than a moment longer than he meant to.
He didnāt knock straight away.
One hand was still in his pocket, the other flexed slightly at his side like he wasnāt sure what to do with it. The cigarette he had smoked before this was gone by now, but the feeling of it still lingered at the back of his throat.
He took a deep breath, in, and out.
Then he knocked.
- @ask-rtdkjohn
McCartney sat idly at his desk, trying to cool off from his earlier encounter with George. He'd told himself he'd do paperwork, but he'd been sitting there ten minutes staring at a blank document.
He perked up at the knock to his door, secretly happy to have an excuse to get away from the work he didn't want to do. Upon opening the door, though, he really hadn't expected John.
Oh! Hello, er, I wasn't expecting you again tonight. You can come in, sorry, uh, mind the mess. Wasn't ready for company, y'know.
He stepped aside, letting John in. His house was barely messy, but as per usual, Paul was dramatic.
John quietly stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He glanced around the room briefly, not really taking anything in.
Mess is fine.
he said at last, though it came out a bit more hushed than intended.
Hope Iām not disturbing any pressing governmental affairs, mister mayor.
His eyes didnāt quite meet Paulās when he said it. The joke lingered a bit too long before he moved further into the room.
He let out a low chuckle, slightly awkward. It was odd, honestly, to see John simply standing in his front room after so many years apart.
Ah, well, no not really. Just busy work, procrastination.
are you alright? You're.. quiet.
He rested his hand on John's shoulder, shaking him slightly, only to tell him he was there.
John startled slightly at the touch, not pulling away, but his shoulders tensed on instinct before settling again.
He let out a breath, like he was trying to reset himself.
Iām alright.
It didnāt sound entirely convincing, even to him.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Paulās hand on his shoulder before returning to his face.
I just-
He stopped, jaw tightening slightly as if deciding whether to commit to the next part.
ā¦I needed to talk to you.
