The Night Before- McLennon One-Shot [boyxboy]

The Night Before (A McLennon One-Shot)

Warning: You are about to enter a fluffy boyxboy involving the great Sir Paul McCartney and the awesome John Lennon. If this offends you, please depart. If not, indulge yourself!

The first thing Paul smelled that morning was eggs.

It was a bit reeking at first sniff, but after a couple more sleepy sniffs, Paul found it enough motivation to force his eyes open, staring up at the greasy white ceiling of the hotel suite in New York City. He'd almost forgotten how he got there until he felt the cotton sheets slide against his bare skin. A cringe crossed his face for a moment until he sniffed again to smell the eggs.

He pushed his lips into a pout before sitting up, reaching up to ruffle his dark hair. He held the sheets against his naked body as he peered over the edge of the double bed to spot his clothes in a disheveled pile. He reached down and changed into the rumpled suit, not bothering to straighten his tie as he finally stepped out of the small bedroom into the kitchen area.

Sure enough, there he was standing at the stove, struggling to slip some sunny side up eggs onto a plate in a smiley face that only turned out to be some sort of lopsided alien with bacon for a mouth and eggs for eyes and toast for a bad haircut.

"What time is it?" Paul spoke up. John almost flipped the plate of breakfast into the air before turning to smile at him, reaching up to push his hair out of his face as he set the plate on the countertop.

"Not quite noon. How are you feeling?" He asked calmly, turning back to the stove as he cracked a couple more eggs open. Paul stared at him, blinking a few times before turning his face away.

How did he feel?

What a silly question.

All Paul could really remember from last night was having another fun drinking night out with the gang when John insisted that they stay at a hotel-- a strange request seeing as they already had a hotel booked for their tour. However, Paul had been too drunk to even care and just stumbled after John, both laughing hysterically at each other.

It had been all fun and games until John had pushed Paul down on the nice fluffy double bed, the pillows bouncing around them.

One thing led to another and--

Oh, bloody hell. Paul thought with a grimace, reaching up to cup his forehead. He wanted to explain to John that last night was an accident. Just a simple mistake made on the spur of a drunken daze, then hope it didn't ruin their friendship. At least, that was his intention until John turned to him again, holding up the plates with smiling breakfasts.

"I made food. Without burning it this time." He added brightly. Paul stared at his friend, then just numbly took the plate from him with a slight nod, his eyes still on John, who just smiled as if the world had finally seen peace.

Despite the sound of a police siren outside and someone shouting across the hall from their room.

Paul averted his eyes now, feeling his cheeks flush as he ignored John's expression. He walked to the small dinner table, sitting down, only to feel horribly uncomfortable. Pain radiated through his hips and lower back, making him grimace. John plopped down, but his smile melted as he saw the look of discomfort on his mate's face.

"Ah, my mistake. How's your arse?" He asked, picking up a fork. Paul blinked, then flushed even further, feeling the heat spread to the tips of his ears.

"E-Excuse me?" He asked carefully. John looked up, then beamed.

"I was a bit rough last night, eh? Drank like an alkie, I did. You held out longer than Ringo. Poor bloke gave up enough food for world hunger." He added with a smirk, popping an egg into his mouth. Paul blinked a few more times, then covered his mouth and pushed the plate away.