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Paul stirred slowly, a strange feeling of discomfort pulling him from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, assessing the situation around him. It still had to be early in the night.
His eyes fell on George, who was leaning up on the pillows, his upright form looming over the bed. Paul could feel a sense of unease accompanied by an intense grumpiness emanating out from the other lad.
"You still awake?" Paul asked groggily.
"John needs to get up here," George answered plainly, staring forward into the dark.
"'S alright, 's still early for him. He'll be up eventually," Paul tried to reassure his boyfriend, to convince him that it was okay and he should just try to get some sleep anyway.
But George was having none of it. He sat up fully, leaning forward to hug his knees. The air of grumpiness grew stronger and there was an undercurrent of exhaustion to it now. Paul was sure George was doing it on purpose.
"I don't want to deal with him being tired tomorrow," George shot Paul a withering glance. There was no doubt he'd sit up all night waiting if he had to.
"He's always tired," Paul offered in a half-assed attempt to avoid having to get out of bed.
"Get 'im up here, Paul," George said, turning fully to look at him. Yeah, okay. They both knew that if any of them had a chance of convincing John to bed, it would be Paul.
Paul sighed, then stretched, pulling back the covers and standing up in a swift motion.
"Aye-aye, Captain! Sir, yes Sir," he said, saluting George. The ghost of a smile crossed the other lad's lips.
Paul then leant over to plant a kiss on his cheek, "Won't be long, okay?"
"You'd better not be," George answered, giving him a quick peck on the lips in return.
-
Paul quietly put his head 'round the door of the study. John was sitting at the desk pouring over a piece of paper. His guitar lent propped up against one of the table legs next to him.
"Hey," Paul said softly, moving to lean against the doorframe. "You should come to bed, it's gettin' real late now."
John didn't look up, instead chewing on his pencil for a moment before asking, "What do you think of this line?"
"Oh yeah?," Paul said walking over, "Let's see it then."
He bent over the desk, reading the line carefully. Paul then settled himself into John’s lap to get a more comfortable look, as he recalled the meter they had gone over for the song the other day.
"Here, you could do something like this," he said, motioning to John to hand him the pencil. He scribbled out a new line that changed a few words around under John's original.
John nodded slowly, humming the melody under his breath, "Yeah, that flows better, you're right."
They continued discussing the song, going back and forth on a few more things, passing the pencil between them as they did.
Paul was raising the pencil to point towards a chord he thought they should change when he suddenly felt a distant wave of intense annoyance wash over his mind, an annoyance that distinctly wasn't his. With a jolt, he looked over at John's face, forcing himself to remember that he was supposed to be on a mission. A little stab of guilt ran through him as he thought of George sitting up alone waiting for them. Paul gave John a small knock on the shoulder.
"You tricked me," he joked with mock offence. John looked away from his paper, eyes clouded with confusion behind his thick glasses.
“What?” John whispered softly.
"I was sent here on the express mission to get you to bed and you enthralled me with your music, you siren," He punctuated his sentence with another knock on the shoulder.
"'S fine Paul, it's not that late," John waved his hand slightly in dismissal.
"It is that late, John," Paul emphasised his friend's name with a look, "We need to go to bed."
John let out a big, showy sigh in response, "Fine, just let me finish this..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the paper. What exactly he meant by "this" was unclear and that was precisely Paul's problem. This what? This thought, this line, this whole song?
"The song will still be there in the morning," Paul remarked dryly, "Maybe you'll find ideas come to you better if you're well rested," He added with a wink.
John made a face in response, "That's bullshit, Macca."
Paul looked at John as he continued complaining, though not really hearing him. He was too busy coming up with a genius scheme to listen to his protests.
Paul observed John's lips as he spoke, carefully calculating exactly when to bridge the tiny gap between them. Leaning in, Paul interrupted him mid-sentence. He felt John freeze in surprise for a millisecond as their lips touched, but only a millisecond. John reciprocated softly for a few moments before pulling back.
"Hey, I was talking," John frowned slightly.
Paul paid his boyfriend's complaint no mind as he reached over to take off John's glasses. They crashed back together, closing what little distance there was between them once more. Their kissing was more intense this time, especially since the glasses- now held behind John’s head- weren't in the way anymore, letting their noses brush and foreheads touch.
Paul smiled against John's lips. His plan had worked—John's flow had been broken, and, as a bonus, he couldn't work on the song anymore if he couldn't read the paper. He pulled back out of the kiss, John chasing him momentarily before surrendering.
"Stop trying to throw me off my mission," he giggled.
"Hey, that's not fair," John replied, "You kissed me, remember."
Paul then yawned very fakely in John's face, before giving him one last kiss on the nose, "I'm very tired Johnny, I want to go to bed." He kissed John again, on the corner of his mouth this time, "And I'd like it if you were there with me."
Though Paul had said "I," what he'd really meant was "we," and he was certain that John had picked up on that, judging by the look of defeat he was wearing. He stood up as John nodded, finally agreeing.
"Alright, fine, you win," he sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender.
Paul set John's glasses down on the desk before leaving the room to head upstairs, with John switching off the lights and following after him.
---
John followed Paul into the room. George was sitting up in their bed hugging his knees and gripping a sleeping Ringo's hand. Had he been waiting for him the whole time? He probably had, given the intense wave of annoyance that John felt violently crash over him when their eyes met. John couldn't help but feel a little guilty about that.
"Got 'im, Captain," Paul said, saluting playfully.
"Took ye long enough," George grumbled back.
Actually being there in the bedroom made John notice just how tired he really was. He undressed as quickly as he could in the corner of the room while Paul sat down to talk to George.
Finally, he crawled into bed between Paul and George, putting his right arm around the latter who sank down into the pillows radiating relief. The sight made John's heart flutter a little; he liked knowing that his presence was a comfort to George.
On his other side, Paul had also settled against him. Now that all four of them were together, it didn't take long for sleep to start weighing on his eyelids.
John pulled George in closer. Not opening his eyes, the other lad snuggled into him, moving to rest his head on John's chest.
"Thank you," John mumbled into George's hair. George gave an almost imperceptible nod in response. John planted a soft kiss onto the top of his boyfriend's head before shifting slightly under the covers and finally closing his eyes.