Mclennon Drabbles

Muse

John didn't think he was in the wrong at all, honestly. But to be fair, he never did when someone was upset with him, and he was even more defensive when that someone was Paul, the cute boy that went to the Inny next to his school.

They'd been seeing each other in private for quite some time, meeting behind the art college for a quick snog, walking to the golf course together to talk and such. John couldn't remember a time when he didn't have McCartney as his dirty little secret, when there wasn't 2 a.m. knocks on the window of his and Stuart's apartment and heated little moments until daybreak, and then the school day would begin soon and they'd part with chaste kisses on cheeks.

Stuart was the only person in the world John could trust with his secret, he was his best mate after all. So maybe that's why John thought Stu's latest art project was a safe idea. They were close friends, what difference would it make if he had John as his muse for his painting?

Sure, he might have had to shed his clothes and pose in a slightly suggestive way, leaned against the wall, hands behind his back and his face to the side, perfect jawline on show. It was for the art, nothing more.

The minutes ticked by in slow motion once Stuart had finished adjusting his body, and he soon became tired and his muscles stiff and cramping, not to mention the soreness of his neck. John was never very patient and this might as well have been his own personal hell.

He heard swift brush strokes against canvas and took slow, deep breaths to keep his composure, knowing it couldn't be much longer.

"It's coming along nicely now. I think I made your cock a bit too large though, don't want t' be unrealistic, y'know." Stuart laughed, trying to ease the tension a bit.

"Hysterical, Stu. You should drop out of school and be a comedian." John deadpanned, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling.

"How much fuckin' longer do I have t-"

His irritated question was stopped midway by a knock on the door, and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop the curses that threatened to fall from his lips. He just wanted to move. As if he had read his mind, Stuart sent him a warning glance.

"I'll get the door, move and you're dead."

The threat went right over the auburn man's head though, and as soon as no eyes were on him he sighed, stretching languidly and hearing his back pop in a quite unattractive way. It was bliss.

"It's your lil' Prince Charming, I'm letting him in!" Stu yelled from the front room.

"Then I'm getting dressed!" John replied, already moving to find a clean pair of trousers.

"No, you can't! We're almost done, it's not like he's not seen it all before!"

"Fuck you." John muttered under his breath, carding a hand through his hair in a nervous way, tousling it up unknowingly.

He didn't realize the messy hair and lack of clothes would look as bad as it did, to someone unaware of the situation. He was just fucking tired and wanted to sleep.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and suddenly the two of them were in the bedroom doorframe, Stuart coming in first and resuming his place, ready to continue painting. He said nothing of the fact that John wasn't posing still, only prepared his brush for the next color he would use.

Paul didn't budge from the door, but stared in with raised eyebrows and parted lips. Eventually he spoke, ignoring the blush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

"Any particular reason for the nakedness?" He asked, taking a timid step into the room.

John snickered at the red tint to his cheeks, but didn't offer any sort of answer.