Work Text:
There he goes again, picking at his fingers like a little kid, the way he does when he's anxious or tired.
I'd love to take his hand, let him know it's alright, that I'm here and I see him anxious. I see him tired. I know that all he wants to do right now is get away from this interviewer -- nice guy but yeah, one more damn interview after a day full of them, and not one has had an interesting question in his head.
Paul wants to go home.
And what that really means is, he wants to be with me.
He wants to just sit on a sofa with me and watch something stupid on the telly, while we hold hands and maybe doze off.
Because we're so tired, we really are. And sometimes a boy just needs to veg-out, you know. Sit with his best mate, his partner, the person who knows him better than anyone in the world, and do nothing.
Just hold hands, maybe. Snuggle into each other a bit. Doze.
It sounds so nice. So intimate. So warm. And we could both use a little bit of quiet intimacy, and rest.
I mean, yeah, the rest of it is great... it's wonderful, it's... what I always thought a passionate love would be. What soulmates would have together at the toppermost of the poppermost of soulmate-ism.
But we're human, aye. And we're still young. We're young but we're living twenty lives in a year, two years in every month.
Really, we're still just lads. And maybe neither of us really have homes, anymore, except within each other.
And sometimes home is where you hang your head.
And sometimes home is where you put out your hand, and someone is there to take it.
C'mon, Paulie, just move your lovely, brilliant, rough and tender hand a little ways to the left. And I'll move mine just a little ways to the right. Just stretch out my fingers a bit, aye?
Do you see it, Baby?
It's just a little thing. A little touch. My hand and yours.
And now, we're home.
Wherever we may actually, physically be...
We're already home.