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“Ye know what, mate?“ Came the slurred question from the opposite side of the room, from a figure all curled up weirdly on the second couch the hotel room was offering. “Yer a fuckin’ genius.”
A wide, toothy smile was flashed at Paul, and he turned his face away.
“You’re drunk, John.”
“Bloody hell I am.” John gestured widely, and the bottle in his hand threatened to knock down a vase and several glasses atop the living room table near him.
“I’m bloody fuckin’ drunk, and I’m feelin’ great, thank you very much.”
“I wasn’t askin’, ye know...” Paul mumbled quietly.
He heard John let out a breathy chuckle.
“Ye know, Paulie...” The nickname rolled off his tongue and sounded so very odd that Paul inwardly cringed. John was not looking at him, instead looking at the wall on his left with an intense interest, probably caused by his way too high alcohol consumption that evening. (It had been a long day.)
“Did ye know that I know one of yer dirtiest secrets you have?” John’s head suddenly snapped back to allow him to look at Paul, or at least his general (assumed) direction. He stared at the vase in his line of view.
Paul paled, not sure what exactly John was referring to, but like most people, he guessed, he had some secrets he really did not intend to have hung in the air like dirty laundry, for the whole – screaming – world to see.
He gulped.
“Yeah?”
“Hm-mm.” John nodded. A tiny smile was on his lips, and Paul was not sure if he wanted to punch it.
“Spit it out already, will ye?” He shuddered, pondering how bad a secret it was, and what knowing John knew would do to him.
“Ye fancy me, don’tcha?” John’s grin had taken to a width that was by now genuinely frightening Paul.
He gulped even harder.
“What gives ye that dumb an idea?” He managed to get out, mentally slapping his head for it coming out so meekly.
“Ye know-“ John sat up with more energy than one would expect from his drunken state, and Paul already feared he’d have to jump up and catch his mate before he’d topple over from the movement. He stood up, just in case, but John was fast to cross the room.
“- it’s a good thing I fancy ye, too.” And with that, John had planted one on Paul, Paul who had not even enough time to gasp and get a good thought going about what the hell was happening here, when John already pushed him away from him again, back onto the couch that he had sat on till a few seconds ago.
“But we cannae have that, so please stay outta my field of view for now,” John all but growled, despite the drunkenness, and stalked out of the room toward the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Well,” Paul mumbled. He touched his lips lightly, still confused about how things had developed from a fairly quiet evening in to ... this. He shook his head in disbelief, feeling the faintest of blushes crawl up his cheeks and color them a light pink. “That was… unexpected.”
He turned his head toward the bedroom door John had disappeared behind, and sighed, his shoulders sinking. It seemed like he’d have to take up with the couch that night. He honestly wondered if John would remember what had happened that evening, and, staring at the ceiling, blush and frown still on his face, eventually fell asleep.