Little Darling » mclennon au ✓

4

With the smell of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen, Paul awoke with a grumbling stomach and a smile on his face. Although when he sat up, he looked around and had somehow forgotten where he was. Then he saw a gray blazer on the floor and that's when the memory of last night's events came flooding back into his mind.

Suddenly the door opened. Standing shirtless in red flannel pajama bottoms with a messy mop-top was John Lennon. He gave the young lad a warm smile, then placed the silver tray in front of him.

"Good morning, love." he greets sweetly, planting a peck on Paul's head. "How'd ye sleep?"

Paul felt his cheeks heat up slightly, he felt cute and small when John had kissed his head. He had never gotten kissed there before. Usually, when he had one night stands, the men he slept with would be getting dressed to leave.

John wasn't like the rest. Then again, John didn't stay at his place. It was the other way around. Paul didn't know whether to eat or if he should prepare himself to flee the Lennon residency.

"I slept good. . ." Paul begins to fumble with his fingers, his voice trailing off.

John sits at the edge of the king-sized bed and pushes the tray lightly towards Paul.

"Eat, love." the older man mumbles, motioning to the tray accumulated with Chai tea, eggs and bacon. "I made it for ye."

"Oh," Paul replied, snapping out of his nervous state. "I thought you wanted me to leave so you could eat."

John cocks his head to the side and gives him a look that makes it more sarcastic than intended to be. "If I wanted to eat, Paulie, I would 'ave done it by now ye silly bloke!"

Paul giggles, and once his laugh escapes his lips, John's heart begins to flutter. He was just so adorable. . .

"Wait a second," John says after Paul takes the initiative to start eating. The fork clinks against the white plate. "Why did you think I would want you to go?"

Paul looks up with his doe-eyes and mouth closed. On the corner of his lip was a small piece of scrambled egg just lingering there.

Paul swallowed his food and looked down at the plate once again, gathering food.

"I jus' thought I was a play thing, you know?" he mumbles, "usually the men I 'ave shagged go on about their day; never to call or be picked up again. I don't know why."

John's gaze softens at the lad sitting across from him. He gave a gentle smile when Paul was too busy eating his breakfast to notice. John couldn't believe that such a beautiful boy had to deal with the cynical bastards that left him.

Paul McCartney was a gem.

"It isn't you," John says, reaching over to stroke his companion's hand affectionately. "They're just people wanting something better, and they obviously were too stupid to figure out that the best thing was right in front of them. Fuckin' gits."

Paul stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

"So, what you said last night was real?" Paul questions, handing his host the tray of an empty plate and tea cup.

John takes the tray from his smaller hands and looks at Paul dead in the eye.

"I meant every word, McCartney."

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John sat in his office, taking a break from a long, hard day. The people he had associated with ---that weren't Paul--- got on his last nerve. He took out his guitar and began to strum.

#A ... G.... C...

Now, keep in mind that because John is a little more wealthier than most, his office happens to be in the same apartment in which he and Paul had spent the night in. Only difference was it was in another room.

Paul had been walking down the hallway, preparing to leave with his coat slumped over his shoulder but then he heard a sound.

He followed John's strumming and then hears his voice.

He pressed his ear closer to the door, trying to get a better listen at what John was singing.

"I'm sick and tired of hearing things,
From uptight-narrow-minded-hypocritics,
All I want is the truth now!
Just gimme some truth. . ."

Paul laughed, finding the lyrics to be humorous and protest-worthy. He was about to leave, but somehow his hand made its way to the doorknob and lightly pushed against it.

The door creaked open, causing John to perk his head up and stop strumming. Paul stepped inside a bit, biting down his lower lip as he blushed like a madman.

"I'm sorry," he gushed, "I was listening in. I was jus' about to leave, but then I heard you singing and I just. . ."

John chuckled, putting his guitar down. "It's alright. I didn't think anybody would want to listen to me songs."

John motioned to the chair sitting across from his desk, silently allowing the doe-eyed man to sit down.

Paul sat down. "I didn't know ye wrote music." he stated with his hands clasped together.

"Only on me free time," John replied with a careless wave. "I have to keep my company functioning, ye know?"

Paul nodded. "Yup. I know what ye mean, John."

John smiled, admiring the young lad across from him. "I hope I get to see you again, Paul. I know you 'ave to get going."

Paul nods, then stands to his feet. He extends his hand out to the man with tossled hair and the daring brown eyes.

John takes Paul's hand and pulls the young man close; pressing his lips firmly on Paul's chapped lips.

He pulls away and smirks.

"See you around, mate."

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- Valerie.