Tables for Two • McLennon

Paul & Ivan

"Fuck you,

So this is him?"

"Well, yeah Paul waddya think lad? Ain't he lookin' grand? With the wet shirt stuck to that flat stomach? And uh-hum, yes yes!"

"Ivan what the hell?!"

It was a hot Sunday afternoon, a very rare occasion where Paul and Ivan would meet at a garden café near Ivan's place at 2 o'clock when the sun is out and was beating rather harshly on the ground.

"Are you judging my judgements McCartney? Seems like you do now!" It was now Mr. Vaughan's time to play victim, setting Paul up with a bloke for business purposes,

"Obviously! So this is the man you've been telling me about for the past dreadful o' weeks! And to hell with you, I kept an open eye and mind with that matter!" If you'd see Paul right now, most would probably agree that he's just overreacting, which is not far from the truth, to be completely honest.

The sky is incredibly clear that noon, no clouds

just a flock of birds occasionally casting a shadow right above everyone's head. The smell of cinnamon bread and a distant sound of soft chattering and whispers of laughter was a perfect white noise as of the moment,

except it's not.

"Look at this then, right! You see that? He rarely post pictures on twitter but this looks great isn't it?" Ivan was, well, having a good time.

The photo says, "just a tad," and a picture of a man with soft auburn locks, and almond eyes that goes perfectly with a roman nose; at a gym, a stark white tank top that is completely soaked from chest to stomach, and toned biceps to go with that is being exposed, glistening with sweat, most ideally.

The hair was disheveled, but looks good.

To Paul that is.

"Oh, thank you honey!" A waitress trudged across the counter with a tray at hand, full of fine china and silver saucers; cakes on top of it and a pot of tea on the side.

"A teaspoon luv, that would be lovely, 'ta," setting down the tray and slowly lifting the edges of the saucers with great heed, Ivan offered Paul the cheesecake; heaving the pot upwards and pouring to Paul's beautifully ornamented cup with artistic designs.

Paul should take notes, he have to pay careful attention when it comes to shites like this; he might as well apply this to his business, who knows?

"You received the email I sent you, 'm right? The name? You read it righ'?" Ivan now, wolfing the blueberry pie with great gusto; looked at Paul intently in the eye, matched with a toothy grin. Fucking wanker.

They were adjacent from the either side of the rounded table, Paul and Ivan; the table was covered with a satin mantle, on top of it was a laced quilt with a distinct design of birds and flowers. A small rectangular vase sits on the center. Blossoms of yellow and green in the middle is what mostly kept Paul from poking Ivan in the cheek with a bloody fork.

"Yeah, what was that again? Jack? Jim? June?" with such elegance and proper etiquette, Paul brought the teacup an inch away from his nose. Closing his eyes and smelling the relaxing scent of chamomile; his features softening ever so gently, his shoulders start to recede a bit. He wish it was beer goddamit. But since,

If you'd ask McCartney here, the main purpose of his meet-up with Ivan was not because of a bloke he wants to particularly know; he doesn't care a slightest bit, quite frankly. It is not his main agenda for today, but at least he is going to be fed.

Ivan is paying and any form of kindness is very well appreciated by Paul. As long as he's treated, he's in.

"Ta' luv, took ye a while." Jane, the waitress; soon then came with a spoon on her tray. Offered a tired smile before completely disappearing in the mass of tables.

Clinking the spoon on his cup after a good stir, Ivan shifted forward.

Right across the synthetic flowers and in front of Paul's, his doe-eyes widening in the process, causing him to retreat backwards with sudden surprise and embarrassment. He almost fell from his seat with Ivan being extremely and unabashedly close for bleeding out loud! Making the whole table jitter that stirred people away from their chats and towards their direction.

"John, Paul. John."

Retiring from the unusual position with a swift move, Ivan picked his phone from the edge of the table,

"You know what? I might want to call and invite him for this lovely afternoon."

Yes, Ivan is close friends with John Lennon.

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Happy 61st McLennon Anniversary! This is short, but at least it's something. ;)