Chapter Text
It was Paul who suggested it. Or rather, it had been one of their friends, Colin, who had come up with the initial idea and then Paul had just run with it in his own little over-excited way that made it impossible for John to say “no” to anything he would suggest.
They were at the pub, steadily drinking the night away in celebration of their last weekend of freedom before the exams would begin for Paul and his university friends. Christmas music was playing in the background, something John suspected all pubs, stores and restaurants were required to do by contract once December came around, and countless of half-drunk bottles of beer and whiskey glasses were scattered around the table they were sitting at. Paul was currently downing his fourth glass of scotch and coke and was happily giggling to himself where he sat pressed up against poor George, who looked more than a little uncomfortable with their friend’s coquettish behaviour, as Paul continuously shot him heated glances and kept playing with the material of George’s clothes, being all greedy hands and beguiling eyes.
Paul was generally flirtatious, but alcohol always made it worse, especially when consumed in such such a short amount of time. One quickly drunk glass and he’d hit on pretty much anyone, two and he’d be humping your leg, and by the time he had drunk his fourth, he was about ready to spread his legs for pretty much anyon e , anywhere , no matter who was watching. Or, at least, he would have been, had he not been so frustratingly coy about it all.
Today, George had been chosen as his victim for the evening, or at least until someone better would come along, someone who’d actually respond positively to his flirtations and flirt back, because if there was anything a drunk Paul loved more than flirting, it was being flirted with . He was clearly enjoying himself though, taking pleasure in the lack of morals and inhibitions that came with the consumption of alcohol; John didn’t think he’d ever woken up the following morning beside some stranger with a hint of regret.
It was frustrating, though, seeing him act like that, showing himself off in a way that wouldn’t have been more obvious even if he had hung a cardboard sign from his neck with the words “ will fuck anyone for £2 ” written on it in thick black letters, knowing that despite all the lucky boys and girls who had found themselves in Paul’s bed, he had never been and probably never would be one of them. And yet, he wouldn’t trade a sight like that for anything in the world, if only so he could imagine himself in the place of Paul’s victim later when he was home and alone. And well… if he ever did turn out to be lucky enough to fall into his friend’s keen embrace, then... well… that was only lucky, wasn’t it? Of course, John would never take advantage of his friend like that, but if Paul were to kiss him … there was little to be done about that, was there? Even if John would have to be the responsible one and put a stop to it.
For the moment, he couldn’t help but resent young George a little, seeing as the kid truly did not know how lucky he was to have Paul in his lap like that, with one of his legs thrown over George’s lap, his arm curled around his neck, his fingers buried deep in his thick mop of hair, with which he was gingerly playing, all while shooting him heated looks, daring him on. But of course, the poor kid was too awkward, too naive, and, above all, too goddamn straight to take him up on that dare, and fucking hell… he did not deserve to have Paul like this.
“Come on, John. It’ll be fun having you there with me,” Paul said as he tore his eyes away from George and focussed them instead on John, who was sitting at the opposite side of the table and had to take a sip from his own drink at the sexual glint that lingered in those pretty puppy eyes.
He was talking about the annual McCartney Christmas Party: a particularly long-lasting Christmas affair held every year on Christmas Eve to which the entire McCartney family was invited and which lasted well into the night and only ended when more than half of the guests had fallen asleep on the couch or in a chair. This year, it was to be held at Paul’s house at Forthlin Road and - if John could believe the hour-long soliloquy his friend had held on the subject - Paul’s parents had been nagging at him since September to bring a nice girl (or boy) home with him this year to introduce to the rest of the family, despite Paul’s continuous insistence he was not in a relationship at the moment and thus had no one to bring.
“They’re so annoying! It’s like they don’t even believe me or something. And it’s bad enough now with Mum hanging over my shoulder the entire time, you know, watching me every move, as if hoping to catch me texting a mystery girlfriend or whatever so she can force me to invite her. It’s going to be even worse with Christmas with the rest of the family there, of course, especially with Mike being off to Brazil with his new girlfriend. I swear my family has some kind of obsession with relationships, and of course, one or two of them are going to cream their pants at the idea of me potentially having a boyfriend. ‘ O h isn’t that cute, Harold! We didn’t have that in our time, you know. It just didn’t exist back then. ’ As if we somehow ‘invented’ being gay or something. It’s exhausting!” Paul had exclaimed during said soliloquy as he had been busy getting his second glass of Scotch down, putting on a funny high-pitched voice to mimic his aunts. Everyone had laughed and nodded sympathetically, recognising similar occurrences during their own family get-togethers, and when Paul had expressed that he just did not want to deal with that for once - just once! - Colin had offered an easy-enough solution.
“Well, why don’t you ask someone to pretend to be your boyfriend or girlfriend for the party? You know, just for the evening?”
“Pretend?”
“Yeah! I know a guy who does that to make a little extra money. I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone willing to do the same,” he had said and right away Paul had praised the idea and Colin himself as being “genius”.
“Wait. People are actually willing to pay for that?” George had interrupted Paul’s enthusiastic exclamations of happiness and surprise at the idea, and Colin had shrugged before nodding.
“Sure! People are willing to pay for pretty much anything if they have to. It’s not like it’s a fulltime job or anything, but occasionally he goes along to family dinners and parties and such. He’s mainly asked by gay girls who haven’t come out yet, or can’t for whatever reason. He says it’s usually a lot of fun, actually. Even when it goes horribly wrong.”
“Why? Looking for a new job, Harrison?” John had said and George had flushed hot red at that as laughter had erupted amongst the group of friends. .
“Fuck off, John,” he had muttered in reply, and before it could have gone on for any longer, Paul had claimed back all of the attention again by asking if anyone would at all be willing to spend their Christmas as his fake date. When no one stepped up, he had asked them all individually and eventually the choice had fallen upon John and despite John’s excuse that Mimi was expecting him over for Christmas this year and that he could hardly cancel two weeks in advance, Paul had not yet given up on him.
“But Paul, I hate Christmas parties. Especially with your family, no offence, what with how long they go on for. Not to mention that they don’t very much approve of me. Especially your dad. I just might lose my balls if I claim to be your boyfriend. Why don’t you ask one of your many conquest to come along with you? Surely one of them can be convinced to sit through six hours of that in exchange for a little reward. Why’d you need any of us to do it?”
“Because it’ll just be awkward taking someone I barely know and only had sex with once and then never spoke to again! But if it’s someone I actually know, it might be more fun! And really, John, my dad won’t be that bad. As long as you dress nicely and behave, I’m sure they’ll grow to like you. Or at least put up with you, which I think is a bit more of a realistic expectation.”
“I can’t, Paul. I already promised Mimi-” John said, even though pretending to be Paul’s boyfriend did sound rather appealing, even if it was only one evening. The dejected look - complete with pout and large, pathetic doe eyes - that flashed over Paul’s face at his answer, though, immediately made him want to take back all of those words and wrap his arms around him and tell him how sorry he was for ever refusing him anything and promise him that he’d be there not just for Christmas Eve but the entire day if Paul wanted him to. And… that was exactly what he did, except for the rather pathetic hugging part.
“Ugh, fine! But Paul-”
“Yay! Thanks, Johnny!”
“-your parents already know me! How are they possibly going to believe we’re suddenly dating now?” John asked, half hating himself for not being able to just accept it and go with it. After all, he wasn’t going to get this opportunity ever again, and seeing as it was unlikely he and Paul would ever advance their relationship into something more romantic or sexual, it was going to be his only chance to ever be in any way intimate with the other man, even if it was only a lie. God, he was bloody pathetic .
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, John. As long as you two come up with a plausible enough story, I don’t think they’ll be much surprised. You two are so close, you’re basically a couple already!” Colin quipped, causing a few giggles to erupt around them, and Paul immediately elbowed him in the side in revenge for that remark, though there was a glint in his eyes as John locked eyes with him that hadn’t been there before. But surely it was just the sense of victory he must be feeling for having successfully convinced John. They man always got what he wanted, one way or another. John didn’t know why he still tried to resist.
“We can come up with something, can’t we, Johnny?” Paul said with a wink and John swallowed thickly at that as he realised he was actually going to be Paul’s boyfriend for a day and his mind began to fill with images of what that might entail. He nodded, though his heart was pounding from a combination of fear and excitement. Either this was going to be one enormous mistake, or it was going to be one of the best Christmasses ever, and God, John hoped it was the latter. He so hoped it was the latter.
***
On the day of Christmas Eve, John showed up early at Paul’s house. He had promised him to come a little earlier so he could be properly introduced to Paul’s parents as his boyfriend and get on their good side by helping out a little. Although John had quickly realised Paul was more than a little enthusiastic about having his father actually believe he was dating John Lennon, which he guessed would be the man’s greatest nightmare, he didn’t actually want to risk John losing his balls during the holidays, thinking it would ruin the Christmas spirit just a little.
John wasn’t looking forward to it, though, helping with putting up the Christmas decorations, choosing the music, setting the dining table with all those delicious foods without being allowed to nick of a few bites as a reward for his own hard work, and whatever other jobs he would be asked to do, all while Paul’s father would keep a close eye on him to make sure he wasn’t busy corrupting his eldest son. But Paul had asked him to and thus here he was: nicely dressed as Paul had requested and holding a tin of Christmas cookies he had baked himself the previous day to suck up to Mr and Mrs McCartney and convince them he was proper dating material for their precious son, even just for one evening. If only they knew what their so-called “precious” son got up to without their knowledge… perhaps they would think better of John then, because Paul really wasn’t any better. Though, then again, a lot of that probably was his fault.
Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell and waited patiently for it to open, hoping that it would be Paul who’d get the door and not his mother or father. They had spent as much time together as they had been able to in between Paul’s exams to come up with a good and plausible story as to how they had gotten together and to lay down a few ground rules and make plans for how they were going to go about the whole thing. As far as John could tell, they had thought about everything, and yet he still felt nervous, though he wasn’t sure if it really were Paul’s parents that made him nervous, or Paul himself.
He was Paul’s boyfriend… The thought alone would have made him giggle, if it wasn’t for the nauseating tension in his stomach.
The door opened and John sighed in relief as he came face-to-face with those familiar pair of hazel eyes and that ruffled mop of almost black hair, and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips at the sight of him. When his eyes lowered to take the rest of his friend in, though…
“Oh God-” he started, staring speechless at the sweater Paul was wearing. Not to mention the rest of his… John could barely call it an outfit.
“John! I’m so glad you’re here. Come on in, mate,” Paul said before John could put words to the countless of thoughts that swirled around in his mind at that sight of that - frankly truly horrendous - sweater Paul was wearing, which, to make it even worse, did not go at all with the khaki trousers the man had on. He was pulled roughly inside and was urged to take off his coat and shoes, which he had to leave by the door, seeing as both were wet with snow..
“I was hoping you’d get here soon. Mum’s been asking about you constantly and that only puts Dad in a bad mood as you can imagine. It’s going to be better now we can share the piercing looks of disapproval, while you convince him you truly are a most wonderful boyfriend, worthy of such a great son like me,” Paul rambled on with an amused grin, not seeming to notice his friend’s shock, and he whistled lowly as he took John’s coat from him. “Looking handsome, Lennon,” he said with an appreciative smile as he gave John a once over. John, however, couldn’t say the same for him.
He had always known his friend could have a rather… questionable… sense of style, and John was often surprised at what terrible combinations of clothing Paul could come up with some days, but this… this just topped everything. He had seen Paul combine the strangest of colours, the most horrendous of patterns, had seen him wear a tie and a scarf at the same time, or two watches because he couldn’t decide which one he liked best, and John had always liked it regardless of how ridiculous it was, simply because it was Paul wearing it. But this… he needed some time to process it properly.
Paul was wearing a particularly ugly christmas sweater. It was dark blue, almost purple, which in itself wasn’t too bad, though it was a strange colour, but what truly ruined it was the ugly, traditional-looking pattern, made up of all kind of colourful Christmassy images such as gingerbread men, Santa Claus heads and Christmas trees, every image making up its own little row, which were then alternated by rows of snowflakes. It was a horrendous combination of colours and images and in itself it wouldn’t even have been that awful, seeing as it was a Christmas sweater, which were meant to be ugly, but the tight-fitting khaki trousers Paul wore with it were a thorn in the eye and didn’t go at all in any way with the sweater. For a while, all John could do was stare.
He, meanwhile, had actually made an effort. He had even gone through the trouble of combing his hair back with some gell to keep it in place and had washed his white trousers twice with the best washing powder that he had been able to find to make it as white and clean as possible. Above it he had pulled on a white dress shirt and a red sweater in true Christmas fashion. He had even put on a tie and light brown dress shoes, both of which Mimi had bought him once a few years back and he had always refused to wear until now.
And now Paul was… wearing that . What was he thinking?!
Worst of it was, John, still, for some goddamn reason, found it endearing . He hated himself for being this fucking whipped .
“Mum! Dad! John’s here,” Paul called out as he shot John another blinding smile that almost made him forget about the brutal crime against fashion that had been committed, and before John could say anything, Paul had grabbed his hand and was pulling him into the kitchen where Mary stood stirring in a large bowl of what seemed to be eggnog, while keeping a close eye on the large pan of what smelled like sweet potato soup. The whole kitchen smelled of all sorts of different kinds of foods and spices and already John’s mouth began to water at the prospect of devouring it all. He could probably even nick a few things from Paul’s plate if he asked nicely. The lad barely ate anyway.
Mary turned around with a wide friendly smile at her son’s voice and looked curiously between the two young men until her eyes fell onto their intertwined hands, as if only now realising they were actually a couple. To her knowledge at least.
Paul… had told her, hadn’t he?
“John! How lovely you could come!” she said as she put everything down to greet them properly, and John was forced to let go of Paul’s hand to shake Mary’s, giving her a polite smile of his own as Paul stood next to them, watching them while looking out for his father to pop up somewhere. “Merry Christmas, darling! How’s you aunt Mimi? She doing well?”
“Yes, she’s very well, thank you,” John said and already he felt it becoming extremely difficult to keep up this fake polite manner, but he had promised Paul, so he tried his best. “I er… I brought you and Jim some home-baked Christmas biscuits for this evening. As a ‘thank you’ for having me over this year. I’m probably not what you were hoping for…”
“Nonsense! As long as Paul is happy. And thank you, John, that’s very kind of you,” Mary said as she took the tin from him, though her expression gave her surprise and slight worry away. Glancing sideways, John noticed an identical expression resting on Paul’s face as he stared at him, looking as if he feared John had lost his mind. Although John knew they had every reason to worry, seeing as it was somewhat of a Christmas miracle that Mendips hadn’t burned down to the ground during his baking attempts, he still would have appreciated a bit of good faith from Paul. He wasn’t that bad… Okay, he was, but still.
Paul forced a smile as their eyes met, at least appreciating the attempt, no matter how it would turn out.
Mary meanwhile had opened the tin and was staring down at the heap of biscuits shaped in the forms of Santa heads and Christmas trees and stars that matched those on Paul’s unmentionable sweater. Some of them had ended up slightly darker than John had intended, but at least they weren’t burned, though he had needed to throw the last batch away. The icing though, had been less successful, though at least it covered up the slightly darker patches of the biscuit.
Before she or Paul could say anything about the state of them, though, Jim McCartney came in from the dining room. He paused abruptly at the sight of the two boys together, but forced a smile as Mary shot him a strict, warning glare.
“John! You are here!” he exclaimed, trying to sound warm and welcoming but still it came out more like an accusation than anything else. Still, John shook hands with him and wished him a merry Christmas, playing the role of perfect boyfriend to the best of his abilities.
“So, Paul told me you are together now!” Jim said as he released his hand and immediately Paul took it, as if to illustrate the point his father had made, and John’s heart made a little jump at the way the calluses of Paul’s fingers rubbed against his skin, rough and yet comforting. Paul was with him. They were going to be fine. It almost felt like they were actually looking for approval for their relationship and John smiled at the thought. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mary grimace before she went back to the stove to check up on the food, probably thinking he was smiling at what Jim had said. He used that thought and smiled even wider as he nodded at Jim.
“How long has that been going on, then? Mary and I were completely unaware of it till yesterday evening,” Jim asked and John tried not to look confused at the “till yesterday evening bit” as he glanced at Paul, giving him his best love-sick smile, which he didn’t even have to fake, before he answered.
“About five months now? Right, love?” he asked and Paul nodded as he tried to match John’s smile. John could see he was nervous though, and he gave his hand a comforting squeeze before he turned back to look at Jim. “I just got out of a relationship and Paul was there to comfort me and one thing led to another and then well… Here we are.”
“We didn’t want to say anything in case it wouldn’t work out,” Paul added, “not to mention that we figured you wouldn’t approve…”
“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t hoping for you to end up with someone better-” Jim started but quickly changed his tone as Mary cleared her throat and shot him a warning glare. It was obvious they had talked about how they were going to handle this, and if Mary was set on giving John the benefit of the doubt, that was wonderful news from him and Paul, and this evening could be slightly more relaxed and fun than John had feared. He seriously wanted to thank Mary right now, but bit his tongue.
“But what is most important is that our Paul is happy and if you make him happy, that is all that matters.” The words sounded terribly rehearsed coming from Jim’s mouth, but John was willing to take anything he could get and smiled broadly as he thanked him. Not being to resist at least a tiny bit of teasing, though, he let go of Paul’s hand wrapped his arm around his waist instead, pulling the younger man against him as he promised Jim he’d take good care of their beloved Paul. Paul, meanwhile, was forced to wrap his arm around John as well and John felt his heart do a little jump at the way Paul’s fingers grasped a hold onto his sweater. He felt warm against him and John couldn’t help but be surprised at the ease with which Paul slotted against him as if they had done so many times before.
The only time John could remember when he had Paul against him like this had been last New Year’s Eve when they’d both been so drunk they had needed each other to keep up right as they had tried to make their way home through the dimly lit streets of Liverpool. But they had been drunk, and it had not gone as smoothly as it had now. John couldn’t quite remember how often they had fallen down, but most of his body had been covered in blue patches the following day, and he didn’t think it had been any different for Paul.
“Good… I don’t expect any less,” Jim said, bringing John’s mind back to the situation at hand. Jim didn’t look in any way happy with the way his son stood pressed up against the boy he had always thought to be the reason for any of the bad stuff that happened to Paul, though. John could almost hear the man’s silent hopes their relationship wouldn’t last and to make the whole thing even worse he pressed a gentle kiss on top of Paul’s head, causing not only Jim to sputter half-uttered objections, but Paul’s cheeks to flush pink and John didn’t know just which reaction was more worth it.
“Mum,” Paul asked, clearing his throat as he untangled himself from John, his cheeks still very much flushed, “John and I are going upstairs for a moment if that’s okay. I’ve got a present for him I’d like to give before anyone’s here.”
“Oh actually,” Mary started and John winced at what he knew was coming, resulting in a warning kick from Paul to behave, “I was hoping you boys could help with a few things. The guests will be here in an hour or so and there is still so much left to do.”
“Oh… Yeah sure, Mum,” Paul readily replied and this time it was John who kicked him.
“Paul, darling, if you could help me in the kitchen for a bit, that would be a great help. And John, if you could help Jim carry some more firewood inside for the fire, that would be wonderful. There’s also a box of records in the living room by the record player. Just pick something you like and put it on, okay? Thanks dears,” Mary said and before John knew what had happened he was standing outside with his ankles in the snow and a bunch of wooden logs in his arms.
Looking behind him he could see Paul in the kitchen, drinking something from a large mug as he spoke with his mother and helped her get the rest of the food ready, all warm and cosy with his terrible sweater, while John stood here shivering by the garden shed while Jim placed even more logs in his arms. Luckily they weren’t that big. The wind felt like ice as it rushed past him and a few tiny snowflakes fell from the sky and landed in his hair. He couldn’t wait to be back inside. With Paul... Where it was warm, and where the food was… He could still feel the warm press of his body against him when he closed his eyes. At least he had had that.
“You know how I feel about you, Lennon,” Jim suddenly spoke as he caught John staring at his son through the window, and John hastily turned back to look at him. Jim looked older as he stood there outside in the snow, his wrinkles more profound, shoulders hunched against the cold, but it didn’t make him look any less intimidating. “I promised Mary to give you a chance, and I will, but that doesn’t mean we have to lie about where we’re standing.”
He put another log in John’s arms.
“I don’t like you being around my son and you know I think you are a bad influence on him, but for some reason he likes you and to a certain extent I can understand why even if I don’t like it. My son’s happiness is most important to me, though, so all I ask of you is not to hurt him, you understand? I want you to take this relationship seriously if you do have to be his boyfriend so necessarily. He seems to really like you and I don’t want to see him getting hurt.”
“Of course… I know you don’t think highly of me, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Certainly not intentionally. I’d rather hurt myself than have anything happen to him,” John said, swallowing thickly as he realised he didn’t even have to lie about that. It was scary almost… but he’d truly do almost anything for him. Which was why he was here now, having a talk to his father in the snow on Christmas Eve with a bunch of logs in his arms, while he could’ve been up in Scotland right now, nice and warm with his Aunt Mater, who always made Christmas a surprisingly nice affair - a pleasant change from those he had with Mimi whenever they wouldn’t go to Scotland for whatever reason.
“I certainly hope you mean that, John. Because otherwise-” Jim started, but John was quick to interrupt him, somewhat annoyed at the idea that he would actually willingly hurt Paul. It was a frankly outrageous thing to say and John looked Jim firmly in the eye as he spoke.
“I do!” he said with more force than he had meant, but he couldn’t hold himself back, “I wouldn’t hurt him. I would never hurt him, because I love him, Jim.” I love him .
Jim stared blankly at John as he said that and John swallowed thickly as neither looked away from the other. Had he… meant that? He wasn’t sure himself. Somewhere he did love Paul, as a friend, and he wanted them to be more, but love love… that was different. Whether he had meant it or not, Jim certainly looked taken aback by his confession and struggled for a moment with what to say.
“You…” he started, frowning, “love him?”
John nodded, figuring he might as well pull through with this now he’d said it.
“Does Paul know?” Jim asked and John shook his head, faking a small shy smile as he looked away from Jim, feigning embarrassment. God, if only acting had been this easy during the nativity play in primary school. He had only needed to play one of the sheep and even that he had fucked up. This role, however, seemed more up his alley.
“I don’t think we’re quite there yet in our relationship,” he said and Jim nodded as he hummed.
“Well… in that case… you may go back inside,” he said and with that he handed John one last log and sent him on his way back inside the house. John stood motionless for a second, surprised at Jim’s sudden change in demeanour, but eventually did as he had said, hurrying back to the house at a hurried pace and slipping back inside through the kitchen door before Jim would change his mind.
“What’s wrong with you? Did Dad try to chop your head off or something?” Paul remarked with an amused chuckle as John closed the door behind him and placed the stack of log on the floor by the door. Wiping the few snowflakes from his hair that hadn’t yet melted away due to the warmth of the kitchen, John grimaced at Paul, who stood by the stove, a healthy flush on his cheeks, holding a cup of what appeared to be hot chocolate with whipped cream in his hands. Mary was nowhere in sight, for which John was grateful.
“No. I er… he kinda told me not to hurt you, you know, and then I might have sort of told him I loved you,” John said, as he began to shrug of his coat, which he hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and take off his snow-covered shoes.
“You… told him you loved me? Jeez, John. Think you might be laying it on a little thick or what?” Paul said, chuckling and John looked up at him as the younger man took a sip from his drink, leaving a little moustache of cream behind on his upper lip. This man… looked absolutely ridiculous. Yet, again, it left him feeling warm inside.
“Maybe? He seemed impressed though. I think, at least. He kind of just sent me away without another word, which I think might be a positive thing.”
“Isn’t our relationship going fast! Five months in and you already love me. You might have to propose to me before the evening is over.”
“Macca, baby, how could I not love you? And I gladly would, although I think actually getting married might be pushing this fake relationship a bit far, don’t you think?” John said, winking, and Paul chuckled in response, though the twinkle in his eye and slight smile on his lips made him look smug. He took a sip from his drink before licking the cream from his lip, something John wished he could have done for him. Paul’s parents weren’t here though, so he figured their relationship was put on hold until they were back, leaving him with not a single excuse to do anything like that to the other man right now. He almost wanted them here with them. If he couldn’t have Paul, though, his drink also looked more than a little tempting.
“What are you drinking then, eh? Hot chocolate? I could do with something to warm me up. It’s bloody freezing outside.” John asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them up as he walked over to Paul, eagerly eyeing said drink.
“It’s an extra special Irish version,” Paul said before taking another sip and when John just looked confused, he added, “I secretly poured some whiskey into it when Mum left. I’d totally recommend it. Makes it even warmer.”
“Whiskey?”
“Yeah. You want some? We have to be quick, though, before Mum comes back. She never likes me drinking this early on in the evening. But it’s just too good to pass up on, really.”
“Paul, maybe you shouldn’t be drinking. I mean… you know how you get.”
“John, luv, it’s a family Christmas party. Who am I going to shag? Apart from you, there’s not a soul who would be in any way sexually available to me. Besides, it’s not my first Christmas party and Mum has never even noticed,” Paul said as he turned around to grab another mug and pour John some “Irish” hot chocolate as well. John wanted to say something to argue otherwise, but his mind had gotten stuck somewhere between the words “shag” and “sexually available”, which made it incredibly difficult for his mind to come up with any reasons at all for keeping Paul from getting drunk, and thus he could only watch as Paul retrieved his hidden bottle of whiskey and poured some of it into John’s mug as well, before handing it to him with a wide smirk. Who am I going to shag? Apart from you, there’s not a soul who would be in any way sexually available to me. Apart from you...
“Here,” he said as he pushed the mug into John’s hand, “just try it. The worst it can do is make the whole fake relationship thing a little easier to keep up. It’ll be fine!”
Somewhere there was still a voice shouting in his head not to take it and to keep Paul from getting drunk, but another voice was shouting the words “you’re playing his bloody boyfriend, how could you not want him drunk” at a far louder volume, and thus John couldn’t do anything except take it.
“Good boy. Now come on, let’s find a nice Christmas record to put on before Mum or Dad ask us to do more jobs for them,” Paul said and quickly put the alcohol away again, before he hurried into the living room, leaving John with little choice but to follow him. Whatever a drunk Paul would mean for the course of the part, John did know that either this was going to be a great night to remember or it was going to be a disaster.
***
The living room was richly decorated, with garlands hanging above the fireplace, fairy lights lining the large set of windows at the front of the house as well as the piano, a large wreath made up of red berries and snowy pinecones hung on the door leading into the hallway, and fake foam icicles had been taped to the mirror above the fireplace. The main hanging light had been turned off and instead the room was being lit solely by the fairylights and the fireplace, as well as a few smaller lamps, such as the one by the piano and the one in the corner where the record player had been placed for the occasion, giving the room a warm and cosy glow.
Next to the record player, which appeared to have been put there solely for this festive occasion, Paul was sitting knelt on the ground with two large boxes of records in front of him, excitedly skimming through them. When he heard John’s footsteps approach, he looked up and tapped the empty spot next to him, beckoning John to sit down as well, and carefully pushed his hot chocolate a little to the side just in case. John placed his own drink on the mantelpiece and sat down onto the floor next to Paul as requested. There wasn’t a lot of space, though, and John found himself sitting pressed against Paul, and he had to put his arm behind Paul to lean on in order to keep his balance, so it looked like Paul was sitting cuddled up against John. If anyone were to come in now, they would not for a moment doubt they were a couple.
“Dad got all of these from the attic,” Paul explained, nodding at the two boxes in front of him as he flipped through a few records he had already picked out for later. He was sitting so close John could smell the scent of cranberries and pine trees on him, and John wasn’t at all surprised to learn Paul apparently used some kind of limited edition Christmas-scented soap. It smelled good, though, and John wished he could press his nose into the inviting crook of Paul’s neck to take it all in. But again, they were alone, and John had no excuse to do such a thing. He almost couldn’t wait for the guests to arrive.
“He always likes playing them with Christmas. Says it add to the atmosphere, gives it something a little more traditional and old-fashioned, you know. He likes that during Christmas, so we’re never allowed to use any of our modern electrical stuff, like tvs or our laptops or something. Mike tried to convince him to stream the music one year… Dad nearly had a fit. I get what he means though. It’s kind of nice, you know, without all that. Makes it even more special,” Paul continued, unaware of the longing way in which John was staring at him.
John hummed in agreement and curiously began to skim through the dozens and dozens of records he had to choose from and was pleasantly surprised at the broad range that was available. He had expected it to be just 40s and 50s jazz music and there were also rock ‘n roll records in there as well as stuff from the 80s and 90s, reaching all the way up to more modern music. John however, didn’t have to look for long to find the record of his choosing and he knew for certain Paul would most definitely approve.
“Any idea what record you want then?” Paul asked at the exact moment that John pulled said record from the box. With a large, excited grin, he held it up to Paul, who responded with a similar smile of his own. “I truly shouldn’t be surprised.”
“You didn’t give me a choice! If there is one record by The King, then it has to be played! You know that,” John said and Paul had to agree as he took the record from John and leaned forwards to put it on. Carefully he took the record out of its cover and placed it on the turntable before he turned it on and gently placed the needle in the right place. A second later the low, almost grumbling voice of The King filled the air around them and John felt a light, familiar tingle in his pants. That man’s voice never failed to turn him on.
Glancing at Paul, who had settled back in his original spot, his shoulder almost tugged under John’s arm, he saw he was in a similar blissful state, sitting with his head thrown back, his eyes closed and a small smile on his lips, simply taking in the music as his lips moved along with the music, whispering the lyrics back at John without a sound. When he reopened his eyes and their eyes locked, John lip-synced one of the lines to him, giving him his best little Elvis impression and Paul smiled widely at that before he replied with a line of his own. John almost couldn’t hold back the urge to kiss the other man right then and there, now they were sitting so close, with Elvis singing Christmas songs to them, and only them, in the background. The flames of the fire flickered in Paul’s eyes and lit up his face, holding John’s gaze, but once again, he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to.
Thankfully, because John wasn’t sure how long he could have lasted looking at that man’s face without kissing it, the doorbell rang, and soon they could hear voices in the hallway, one of which was Mary’s, while the others John didn’t recognise as easily. He had met a couple of Paul’s family members during birthday parties, but he had never really interacted with them, staying mainly with his own friends. This evening, however, he was going to have to, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous.
Paul, to John’s surprise, hadn’t moved away at the sound of some of his family arriving, and had merely turned his head to the door and shuffled a little closer to John so they were sitting properly curled up together. He had even intertwined their legs and let his head rest on John’s shoulder, leaving John with no option but to remain where he was. He didn’t want to move away, but if he was honest, the arm on which he was leaning was starting to complain at the weight it was supporting, but for Paul he’d try holding on a little longer.
Finally, the door opened and both John and Paul looked up simultaneously at the guests who had arrived, giving them their best “slightly embarrassed at being walked in on while being romantic and sweet together”- looks, before they hastily scrambled up - John’s arm was particularly happy about that development, though the rest of him wished he could have laid there with Paul a little longer.
John barely registered it as Paul greeted his aunt and uncle, hugging them both and wishing them a merry Christmas, before the aunt’s - John had forgotten her name almost as soon as she had said it - eyes fell on him and gave a him a good look over.
“And you must be John! Mary told me you were coming. Well you certainly are a handsome young man, aren’t you,” she said as she took John’s hand with a big smile and gave him two wet kisses on the cheek. “Our Paul sure is lucky to have found himself such a handsome man like you. Merry Christmas to you, too, and welcome to the family.”
“Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too,” John said politely, his cheeks burning up at the praise and next to him he could hear Paul holding back giggles.
“I remember having a very handsome young man in my class when I was younger who looked like you. All the girls went crazy over him, you know. I really don’t blame Paul for having fallen head over heels for you. I would have been the same. Isn’t he handsome, Harold? Oh and a good taste in music too, I hear!”
“He even kind of looks like him when he dresses up at Elvis,” Paul brought in and John knew for certain he only said it to embarrass him even more and if there hadn’t been any one watching right now, and if Paul hadn’t moved to the other side of the room to take two glasses of wine from the table, John would have hit him over the head.
“Oh, I bet he does. Oh thank you, love,” Paul’s aunt answered and smiled thankfully as Paul handed her one of the glasses, and handed the other to his uncle.
“Well, Paul,” she continued as she took a seat on the couch directly in front of the fireplace with her husband, “as far as I can tell, you’ve got a good guy here. Handsome, polite, good taste in music. I bet most girls are more than a little jealous to see him with you. I’d hold on to him, if I were you.”
“Thanks, auntie Gin. I will,” Paul said and John repeated the name a couple times over in his head in the hope to get it in there. Auntie Gin was Paul’s favourite aunt, John knew, so he figured that if there was one name he absolutely had to remember it was hers. In the end, he somewhat managed though it often took him some time to be absolutely certain.
After that more and more people began to arrive, all of whom were more than happy to meet John and most of whom commented on how handsome or polite or well-dressed he was, something that set Paul into a fit of giggles almost as easily as tickling would. Uncle Jack was next to arrive - John tried in vain to call them all by their names - who took a seat in the corner of the room, as far away from the record player as possible so people would still be able to hear him whenever he spoke.
“He was in the army,” Paul explained as he and John stood in the kitchen, cleaning a couple of cups and glasses so they could be used to again, “apparently he got stuck in a gas cloud and now he can’t speak any louder than this… He used to play in me Dad’s old band too.” John was told not to feel too bad for him, though, as most of the children loved his mysterious voice when he told them stories and jokes, and sure enough throughout the evening the man got more than enough attention from the youngest guests. His looks, which were handsome even in his old age, no doubt helped with that as well.
Everyone else arrived quickly after one another, Auntie Edie and Annie came together with their familie - Auntie Edie’s husband didn’t, though Paul and the rest of the family seemed not to acknowledge that and Paul was reluctant to talk about why, so John didn’t ask about it. Auntie Millie and Uncle Albert followed soon after, and Uncle Joe came last, but with a whole bunch of more bottles of wine, beer and whiskey, which he had carried with him on his bike.
Paul’s family always was a cheery bunch and John was glad to note most of Paul’s aunts and uncle took an immediate liking to him. Auntie Gin especially gave him lots of attention, asking him questions about how he met Paul and their relationship, from their friendship to how they had gotten together - John was glad he had Paul had thought all this up in advance or else it would have been very difficult to keep their stories straight - what he was doing for work, about his own family and what he wanted to do in the future, as well as more casual questions about music and films and books, being more than a little impressed by the amount of books John had read.
“My aunt was always an avid reader so it was just normal for me to spend entire evenings and afternoons reading. I still try to do that as often as I can, but there just seems less time for such things now. There’s nothing better than just curled up with a book and escape for a while into a different world, you know. To learn about new things and people and wait in anticipation for what will happen to the main characters. Alice in Wonderland is my favourite book, though. Always has been,” John told her as he sat with her on the couch.
They were having dinner. Jim had prepared a large buffet which Mary had set up in the dining room so people could simply get what they liked. John was having a nice bowl of hot sweet potato soup with some home-made bread, while Paul sat next to him, enjoying his plate of chestnuts and brussels sprouts with roasted potatoes, which he occasionally would feed to John, claiming his mother had put far too much on his plate. John hardly thought she had, but didn’t say anything as long as it meant that Paul would be feeding him by hand, holding out chestnuts and sprouts for him and waiting for him to open his mouth so he could gently pop them inside. Paul’s aunt Millie thought this to be absolutely adorable and kept sighing as she looked at them, which seemed to drive Jim up the wall, making it all the more fun for John and Paul.
The man seemed highly annoyed with the fact that most of the family had taken an instant liking to John, and John often caught him sulking in a corner as another one of Paul’s family members muttered something about how cute the two of them were together. All in all, John was, surprisingly enough, enjoying himself greatly and even wasn’t worried about Paul drinking anymore. He was taking it slow, and although the alcohol had clearly turned Paul more clingy and… let’s call it romantic… around John, it indeed just made their relationship more believable.
After dinner, John and Paul helped Mary with clearing away the dishes and place some sweets and other snacks on the table, while Jim turned off the record player and took a seat behind the piano to play a couple tunes. Pretty soon John could hear singing coming from the living room and Paul was happily humming along as well as he did the dishes and occasionally took a sip from his large glass of mulled wine, not wanting it to go cold. The whole family was singing Christmas carols and John had never quite experienced something as magical as that. His family was never this musical and outgoing with one another, but hearing this, John could understand why Paul actually enjoyed spending time with his family. They were a warm, kind and welcoming family, and John felt a pleasant warmth spread through his belly as he looked at Paul, though he partly blamed that on the alcohol.
When their eyes met and Paul caught him staring, Paul blew some soap bubbles into his direction.
“You’re dreaming, Lennon,” he said, chuckling as John simply let the bubbles hit him in the face, blinking rapidly as they popped. He blew a few bubbles into his direction as well in response, smiling as a few of them simply got caught in his hair and remained there.
“Just thinking… my family would never be this accepting of you if I were to take you home for Christmas,” he said as he reached out to prick every bubble in Paul’s hair.
“Yeah… they’re a little overexcited, I suppose,” Paul said with a shrug as he took another sip from his drink, almost sounding apologetic. John shook his head.
“No. I like it.”
“You’re enjoying yourself then?” Paul asked, smirking as he took a step closer to John, taking his hand from where he was still poking at the bubbles in his hair, and John swallowed thickly as the glanced down at where Paul had intertwined their fingers.
“Yeah… I am. Surprisingly, enough,” he answered truthfully and Paul smiled as he squeezed his hand.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said and John smiled back as he too took a step forward as well, his eyes now locked onto Paul’s which almost seemed to call him to him, beckoning him over, inviting him.
Suddenly, though, John was met with a hand full of bubbles as Paul pushed them into his face, causing John to cry out and jerk away in surprise, his hand releasing Paul’s as he hurriedly began wiping the bubbles away. Paul was laughing hysterically, his hand before his mouth to muffle his giggles as he watched John struggle.
“You’re face! You should see your face!” he cried, still laughing and John gently pushed at the man’s shoulder in return before he grabbed one of the tea towels to dry his face.
“Not fair, McCartney!”
“Oh come on! That was funny,” Paul said, chuckling, but before John could do anything in return to take his revenge, they were interrupted by two of Paul’s youngest cousins running into the kitchen, assumably having been drawn there by their laughter. They jumped at Paul, their tiny hands grasping at his clothes and arms and chest and shoulders to hold onto him they almost began to climb him like monkeys.
“What are you two doing?” the little girl asked and Paul easily picked her up and put her on his hip as he pushed the boy off his shoulder and back onto the ground, where he began to clutch at his leg instead.
“Mum told us to come get you. We’re singing Christmas carols!” the boy explained and John watched in wonder as Paul picked up his glass and started walking out of the kitchen and into the dining room as if it was nothing, the little boy dragging at his left leg.
“Well in that case we should come too, then, shouldn’t we? Come, John! You heard these two little monkeys. We’re singing Christmas carols!” Paul exclaimed, flashing John a grin before turning back to the girl and whispering something in her ear that made her giggle like an 11-year-old boy who had first found out what sex was.
It was always astonishing to John to see how good Paul was with children, seeing as he never had a clue what to do with them himself. But Paul seemed to be a natural, moving them around as easily as if he were handling inanimate objects instead of screaming mischievous and above all extremely agile children. He easily made his way into the living room where the rest of the family had gathered around the piano and were merrily singing songs as they enjoyed a drink. Two of them - John guessed they were aunt Millie and uncle Albert - where gently swaying to the music, which caused cries of disgust from the children.
Paul flopped down onto the couch with them, and started singing along as well as he began tickling the girl all over, which the boy seemed to think was extremely funny. It was great to just stand a little further away, leaning against the wall by the fire and watch Paul muck about with them, pretending to know the girl had been bad and thus would not get any presents this year, while the girl insisted she had been good and begged him to release her. Eventually the boy decided to switch sides and began to help his sister by jumping on Paul, wrapping his arms around his neck as he tried to pull him off her and Paul, in a manner that was a little too dramatic, let himself be overpowered by the two children. They pinned him to the couch and Paul sneakily wrapped his arms around the both of them until he had a firm hold on them, forcing them to calm down as he shushed them and softly started singing again, encouraging the two to do the same.
John, who had expected them to just jump at Paul again, was surprised when the children actually did as Paul had said and began to sing along as well, occasionally changing up the words into something more naughty, to which Paul would react extremely aghast, humouring them. Once the children were sweetly singing along and sticking to the right lyrics, Paul’s eyes fell onto John and beckoned him over.
He looked thoroughly ruffled, with his hair sticking out in all sort of directions, his sweater ruffled, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling in excitement. John’s mind couldn’t help but go to other, less child-friendly, places at the sight of him, but did as Paul had asked and took a seat next to him. He flushed as Paul hauled one of the kids onto his knee so he could lean against John’s chest as they sat together. The boy barely seemed to mind this change of position and was happily bouncing up and down as he sang along. The girl, however, was watching John with intrigue.
“Are you Paul’s boyfriend?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, and John was momentarily at a loss for words as Paul glanced up at him by cocking his head back, a little smirk on his lips, waiting for him to answer.
“I er… Yes, I suppose I am,” he said and the girl hummed thoughtfully at that. Still, though, she seemed not completely satisfied with this new knowledge she had received.
“Do you love him?” she asked next and John sputtered something unintelligible at that as Paul began to giggle at him in amusement. John wanted to curse him, but with the kids around, he had to keep his language PG and he wasn’t going to waste his single f-word on this.
“I er… I mean… I guess, so, yeah?” he said, secretly slapping Paul as he only started giggling more, making sure the children didn’t see.
“Does that mean you’ll get married just like mummy and daddy did?”
“Well… I don’t know… maybe later. I mean, usually people wait a little before they do that,” John explained and Paul nodded in agreement. The girl, however, looked a little let down.
“Oh…” she said and frowned deeply for a moment, before she cocked her head and looked back up at him. “Does that mean you’re the mummy?”
Paul could barely hold back his laughter as that and had to bite down his fist to keep himself from laughing too loudly. John could feel his body shaking against him and he was seriously going to kill him for this later.
“Well-”
“Yes, he is!” Paul was quick to interrupt and groaned painfully as John hit his side in return. The girl, however, to John’s horror, was already nodding in understanding.
“Oh, I get it then!” she said proudly, and before she could get up to run off to God knows where children were always running off to when you wanted to stay where they were for once, John grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back on the couch.
“No! I’m not!” he said, and sighed as Paul only started laughing louder. Before he could interrupt him again, however, John smiled at the young girl who was watching him with even more confusion, and started to explain. “Paul here was just making a joke. No. Sometimes, yeah, sometimes, there can be two daddies or two mommies. That’s what Paul and I would be, see? Your mummy is a girl and your daddy is a boy, but Paul and I are both boys, so we’re both daddies, yeah?”
“Daddies,” Paul muttered softly, giggling, and John hit him again. The girl, thankfully, didn’t notice and only nodded in understanding as a bright smile flashes across her face.
“So, if I got a girlfriend who was a girl,” the girl started and John nodded sweetly to tell her it was alright to continue, “she and I would both be mummies?”
“Exactly!” John cried and subconsciously wrapped his arm around Paul’s waist as the man rolled over and started moving his way up John’s body, draping himself on top of him as he wrapped his arm around his neck and rested his head on John’s shoulder, curling up closely against him almost like a cat. The boy readily slid off Paul’s knee and sat down onto John’s stretched out legs instead.
“Good,” the girl said, “girls are better anyway.”
“No, they’re not!” the boy cried out at that, more forcefully than either John or Paul had expected. “Boys are better! Paul thinks so too. That’s why he has a boyfriend.”
“No, girls are! Paul just couldn’t get a girl, so he had to settle for a boy, because girls know girls are better anyway.”
“That hurts, that,” Paul muttered at John as they continued to watch the two children argue. “I could get a girl. Not that I don’t like being here with you, mind.” He snuggled up even closer to John, raising his head to look at him through his lashes and John found himself momentarily lost in his eyes as he, in that moment, actually found himself believing that - that Paul preferred having him here to any other girl he could have had instead.
A particularly loud scream made him look up in shock, though, and he watched with wide eyes as the two children continuously shouted “boys”, “girls” back and forth to each other.
“You dealt with them pretty well,” Paul mused as he rubbed his head against John’s shoulder.
“I think I caused a row.”
“That or you made them both realise they are actually gay. Perhaps a little early, but y’know…”
“Would your aunt mind?”
“Nah… she’ll probably just find it funny,” Paul said and pressed a little kiss to the underside of John’s jaw, causing John to jerk under him in surprise and Paul giggled at his reaction.
“What a terrible boyfriend you are, reacting like that from just a little kiss from the guy you’ve been shagging over the last five months,” he murmured, pressing down a second kiss onto the same spot again and John couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped his lips in return. God, he was so fucking glad he hadn’t stopped Paul from drinking.
“Kids! Come on, stop arguing! And leave the two boys alone for a moment, yeah?” One of Paul’s aunts - John didn’t want to look which one, as that meant looking away from the handsome man who was still kissing his jaw and whispering teasing little things to him that no one else could hear - called out and the two children reluctantly did as told, stumbling over to the piano or wherever else, John didn’t care.
“Merry Christmas, Johnny,” Paul whispered as he finally took his lips away and instead slid his fingers into his hair as he laid his head back against the other man’s shoulder, with a content little smile on his lips. All John could do was stare for a moment and by the time he had found his voice again to say something similar, Jim called out for Paul.
“Paul! I need to use the loo, and I wouldn’t mind a drink either. How about you play a couple of songs till I come back?” he asked and John silently cursed the old man as Paul immediately pulled away and began to get up.
“Ah, Jim, let the boys be for a moment. They’ve been helping out so well all day. Maybe someone else could-” Auntie Gin started, but before she could suggest anyone to play piano in Paul’s stead, Paul was already up on his feet and approaching the piano, drink in hand. Looking at him now, the effect of the alcohol began to become more clear with the way the man moved, sluggish and slightly clumsily, though no one seemed to find this strange. Then again, most of his family members had been drinking without much restraint, so maybe it wasn’t that strange for Paul to get a little drunk during parties like this.
“No, no! I’ll play for a bit. Any requests?” Paul asked and Jim slapped him good-humouredly on the shoulder as Paul took his seat at the piano. He mindlessly played a few notes to get a feel for it before expectantly looking around him for requests.
“Oh, do White Christmas! You always do that one so well,” someone suggested and Paul readily complied, giving it his best Bing Crosby impression, with the low, smokey jazz voice, which got quite a few chuckles from the people around them.
John continued watching from a distance, the couch being way too comfortable to get up from. Moreover, he had a way better view from here anyway, as he could easily see the side Paul’s face from here, which would have been far more difficult if he had been standing between all of Paul’s family members. He always loved listening to Paul play, thinking he was a way better singer, musician, and entertainer than John could ever be, even if Paul would never let John say it. He’d tell him not to be silly, that he was a fantastic singer and that he likes the songs he wrote and that he always looked up to him, but John knew it couldn’t be true.
Paul had always been better than him in that regard and throughout the years it had only gotten more obvious. Even during the time when they’d had that band together - a miserable attempt to get famous and, most importantly, not have to get a job or something horrid like that - John knew Paul would probably be better off without him. John even dared to say the man might have made it if it wasn’t for him dragging him down. But Paul would never hear a word about it.
For a moment their eyes locked as Paul glanced over to see him watching him and a winked as he transitioned smoothly into Elvis’s version of I’ll Be Home for Christmas, before cheering things up with a rendition of Jingle Bell Rock, and finally finishing it up by playing Dean Martin’s Silver Bells at his mother’s request, who said it had always been one of her favourites. Just to please her, he played it twice over and was rewarded with a large kiss on the cheek. Once he had finally been released again, he moved to get up, but before he could, one of his aunts pressed him back in his seat and turned around to John.
“You play too, don’t you, John?” she asked and John helplessly glanced at Paul for help, but he just shrugged in response.
“Erm… I’m not much of a piano player, though,” he said, but Paul’s aunt waved that objection away.
“Doesn’t matter. You sing, though, don’t you? Mary said you and Paul had been in a band together. How about you and Paul sing something for us together? Paul can play the piano if you’re more comfortable with that, can’t you, dear?” she turned to Paul for that last and the man shrugged against as he turned back around to face the piano. Seeing he had no other choice but to do as asked, John reluctantly got up from the couch and took a seat next to Paul by the piano.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know,” Paul said, but John forced a smile and said it was fine. Paul nodded and gave him one more encouraging smile as he placed his hands on the keys and began to play a most familiar and gentle tune which John recognised right away. Sighing, he watched Paul closely as he sang the first couplet.
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like Eskimos
Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight
Then he joined in, taking the second couplet for himself, as he kept his eyes fixed onto Paul, trying to forget about the people around them, watching them, watching him, so it was just him and Paul, like they had sung so many times before, together at the piano or on Paul’s bed with their guitars on their laps. It went well that way, the only note his missed being one when he caught Paul glancing back at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he had been confusing and eyes twinkling happily as he played the song tenderly and with ease, guiding John’s voice where it was supposed to go, holding him up, before joining him for the verse, their voices melting together to create a perfect harmony.
And so I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although it's been said many times, many ways
Merry Christmas to you
People around them clapped as they finished the song, but John barely heard them as he just continued watching Paul, who looked more than pleased at the attention they were given for their “lovely rendition. Truly marvelous, boys”. Before anyone could ask them to do another song, though, the two boys hurried to get off the seat and Paul insisted his father to play them all some more, which the man was more than happy to do.
“I’m going to get something to drink. You want something too, John?” Paul asked as he refused the request from one of his uncles to at least sing one last song, and John eagerly nodded in response.
“Yeah. Hold on, I’m coming with you,” he said as he snatched his glass from the coffee table and hurried after Paul into the kitchen, trying not to skip as he heard people praise his voice and how perfect he and Paul were together. If only that was true, he thought, but he didn’t let it get to him.
As soon as he got near the kitchen door, a hand reached out for him from behind the doorway and grabbed his by his tie, pulling him inside and against the rest of body to which the hand belonged, before the door was kicked shut behind him.
“Hi!” Paul said when their eyes finally met and smiled at him before he reached behind him and grabbed a glass from the counter against which he was leaning, which he then handed to John.
“Merry Christmas,” he said again and John frowned at the glass as he took it, eyeing Paul cautiously.
“So you’ve said. Champagne?” He sniffed the drink just to make sure and Paul nodded as he got himself a glass as well.
“Mum has them ready for after Dad’s done singing Christmas songs, but I’m sure she won’t mind us taking one now.”
“Any reason for taking one now and not later with the others?” John asked with a chuckle as he stepped away from Paul and moved to stand next to him instead. Paul, however, refused to let him go, and merely switched their positions. Clearly, the alcohol was getting to him. Even his nose was getting a little red, which John thought was simply adorable. One downside of having Paul pressed up against him like this, however, was that he had been drinking himself, and his body was responding eagerly to the man’s warm touch. Almost too eagerly.
Paul shrugged at his question and placed his free hand on the kitchen counter, locking John even more in place so he couldn’t leave without actually having to push Paul away.
“Just wanted to celebrate our rather successful fake relationship: people are loving you and my father hates it, so it’s practically perfect. You should’ve seen his face when he came in to see us singing behind the piano!” Paul laughed at that and John smiled at the sight of him, thinking him exceptionally beautiful up this close and laughing, clearly more than a little tipsy and wonderfully happy. He loved seeing him happy.
“Well, in that case,” he said, raising his glass, “cheers to us.”
“To us,” Paul repeated with another giggle and clinked their glasses together for a toast, before he took a sip, his eyes firmly fixed on John’s as he watched him do the same. “Christmas is so much better with you here, you know that?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” John replied, grinning, and Paul hummed as he finally stepped away and leaned against the counter next to John instead. He mindlessly played with his glass as he got lost in thought for a moment.
“Paul?”
“Nothing… Come on, let’s go back to the others. It sounds like they’ve finally finished singing. Mum’s going to be in here soon to get the drinks, so it’s better we’re gone before she can ask us to help again,” Paul said as he pushed himself away from the counter and offered John his hand to take, which the man did with a smirk. “Worst part is over now, now we only have to keep this up.”
“Judging from the amount of alcohol you’ve already consumed, I’d say that shouldn’t be a problem,” John said and Paul gasped dramatically at that.
“And what exactly are we implying, Mr Lennon?”
“You know what I’m implying,” John replied easily and Paul dramatically turned away from him with a tut as he started making his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where people were once again walking around, getting snacks and refreshments.
“I have never been so insulted in my life! And I thought I was here with a gentleman!” Paul cried before he pushed his way inside and John quickly followed him, chuckling.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll treat you right,” he said and Paul smiled at that.
“You’d better,” he said with a wink and took his hand again, pulling him with him to the window, a little away from the others and by the large Christmas tree, which shined light in all sort of pretty colours. Outside, it had started to snow and John and Paul stood in silence for a moment, watching as it fell and covered the ground outside, placing their glasses on the windowsill. It had been a while since they had had a white Christmas. In fact, John could barely remember the last time it had snowed on Christmas Eve, but it made the whole evening even more special.
“Seriously, though, John, I’m glad you came. It’s nice like this, being with someone for once. I mean, even if we’re not actually together, you’re still my best mate.”
“Going soft, are you, Macca?” John joked, but Paul nudged him with his elbow in his response.
“Just blame it on the alcohol, okay,” he said, and John nodded, thinking that was fair. “But I do mean it. It’s nice with you here. Usually it’s Mike whose the one with the girlfriend and gets away with just curling up on the couch or whatever. Now it’s me. Of course, it’s my own fault, but… Just yeah… Thanks for doing this, I guess, is what I’m trying to say. I know you had other plans.”
“Don’t sweat it, Paul. My family isn’t half as great as yours. And I’m happy to be here. It’s fun actually,” John said and before he had even finished the sentence he knew he shouldn’t have said that last.
“Oh, you like it eh? Pretending to be my boyfriend. Getting me to curl up on the couch with you, play with your hair, kiss your jaw,” he said, grinning and John flushed at that and nudged his friend in return.
“Oh, shut up.”
“No, don’t worry. I get it. I am exceptionally handsome and incredibly sexy. No wonder you like it,” Paul teased and John rolled his eyes at that and just ignored him. Looking up above them, though, John noticed something green hanging down above their heads. Frowning, he had another look and felt himself freeze as he realised what it was.
Mistletoe.
“This has to be a fucking joke,” John muttered as he stared at the offensive piece of greenery.
“What?” Paul asked, turning his head to look at him and glanced up as well to see what John was looking at. “Oh…”
“Why the fuck do you have mistletoe hanging from your ceiling at a family Christmas party?!” John asked and Paul giggled at that, stepping a little closer to John as he shrugged.
“I think Mum just likes the look of it,” he said still giggling and when John lowered his eyes to look at him, he merely grinned at him, as if daring him to actually do it.
“Paul…” he said, his voice silent as he glanced around him to see that most people were too caught up in their own conversations to notice the two young men standing by the window, though two of Paul’s aunts were looking curiously into their direction and started notifying anyone near them, adoring smiles on their faces.
“Well? What are you going to do about it, Johnny?” Paul asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, as he took a step closer to him. He let his left hand rest on the windowsill next to his drink, while the other came up to curl around John’s wrist, gently urging him to come closer and John easily took a step towards him. By now he could hear some gasps and whispers from the other guests and his cheeks heated up at the idea that they were being watched… him and Paul… together… under the mistletoe… He briefly wondered if Jim would intervene, just out of principle. He could see him standing on the other side of the room, talking to Paul’s uncle Jack, though his eyes were fixed onto his son and his boyfriend.
“Paul-” he said again, for no reason at all, and felt his throat constrict as Paul kept his eyes fixed directly onto his, that little grin still on his lips, and John wanted to kiss it off; he knew he could. He could blame it on the mistletoe if Paul would get mad at him afterwards. Keeping up appearances and all that.
He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but finally, it was Paul and not him, who took the initiative.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he could hear Paul mutter, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to him or himself, and before John knew it, Paul had leaned in and pressed his lips against his, his arms coming up to tangle around John’s neck, holding him in place, as if to make sure he wouldn’t pull away. John didn’t even want to pull away. Not when it was Paul kissing him. Fuck… Paul… His hands drifted from his sides onto Paul’s and he held him gently by his waist as he let Paul kiss him, moaning lightly at the feeling of Paul’s hot breath on his lips, his body pressed against his, his fingers in his hair and fuck…
It was over too soon, and John found himself following Paul as the man began to pull back, causing him to chuckle, but more out of fondness than anything else as he pressed his forehead against John’s for a moment, giving them both some time to catch their breath for which John was thankful, because his mind felt like it was swimming in another other dimension and his body felt hot were it were still pressed against Paul’s.
“Take that old man,” he heard Paul whisper, and too soon Paul pulled away. John wanted to reach out for him, but found himself unable to move, half scared of rejection, fearing that he’d be pushing it. Then he opened his eyes and caught Paul grinning at him, a pink flush on his cheeks from what John guessed was the alcohol he’d been consuming, and fuck, he wanted to get drunk on Paul… wished that would be possible, to suck the alcohol out of him. Paul shot him one last smile and wink, before he took a hold of his glass again and took another sip.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, and before John could say anything in return, he had cocked all of his drink and started heading back into the kitchen, leaving John highly confused behind under the mistletoe.