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In the hustle and bustle of touring, it was rare that the boys got a day off. They loved performing and the fast paced lives they lived, but a break was long overdue. It was a cherished event, being able to smoke together all day.
And this time around, to their delight, they had managed to score some weed. It wasn’t uncommon for them to share a joint before or after shows, whenever they needed to take the edge off. To relax and enjoy themselves in the chaos.
Now, in the safety of their hotel room, they passed a joint around. It wasn’t enough to get them too out of it, just enough to get them comfortable— even a bit sleepy.
Paul and George sat together on the couch, practically laying on each other. Paul usually wasn’t the touchiest guy, but he became much more affectionate when high. He even wrapped an arm around George when he scooted closer. They were absentmindedly watching the TV in front of them, more so staring than really absorbing what was happening.
George moved closer, wrapping his arms around Paul’s waist. He grunted when Paul jumped, frowning at the disturbance.
“Hold still,” He complained, cuddling closer.
“Ticklin’ me..” Paul muttered.
George huffed in response and tightened his grip on the other man. Paul was so lazy like this, not putting up the fight he normally would if George had tickled him, accidentally or not. Most of the time it ended up with George on the ground, giggling as Paul attacked him.
The dots slowly connected in his mind. Clumsily, he prodded at Paul’s belly, earning a giggle.
“George..” He warned, already squirming.
Wordlessly, George pushed him into the armrest. His fingers started squeezing up and down, from the top of Paul’s ribs to his lower belly. A breath hitched in Paul’s throat, giggles beginning to pour from his mouth.
“Georghehehie!” He cried, curling up to avoid the attack.
George didn’t reply, brows furrowed in concentration. Paul never let him have his fun without the threat of the tables being turned. This was long overdue. Paul was too stoned to fight back.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re not even givin’ him a chance!” John laughed from his place on the floor. He handed the joint off to Richie, who was sitting in the armchair behind him.
Paul hiccuped, clumsily grasping for George’s hands. When that didn’t work, he tried poking at him instead. George huffed out a laugh and doubled his efforts, leaning closer to blow a raspberry on his neck. That earned a shriek, giving George a wonderful view of those bunny teeth.
“WAHAHAIT! Ehehee— WAHAH! Knock it ohohoff, George!” Paul cried out, flinching away. From his place at Paul’s neck, George let out a giggle. He opted to pepper light nips across it, just barely grazing the skin with his teeth.
The combination of teasing bites on his neck and soft hair against his chin made Paul crack up, giggles turning into cackles.
“PLEHEHEASE! Oh, god— Georgehehie! It’s t- too muhuhuch! Too much! EHAHA!” Paul gasped, red faced. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling hands gripping George’s shoulders.
Satisfied with his work, George settled himself in the crook of Paul’s neck, nuzzling the skin there. Paul panted through giggles, melting into the couch.
“Fuhuhuck.. Jesus, Georgie.”
“Serves you right,” George replied, rubbing against his neck to keep the man giggling. He turned to the others. “Got any left?”
Ringo shook his head, apologetic. “Sorry, mate. John finished it up.”
John seemed rather proud of that fact.
George groaned and tucked his face further into Paul’s neck. “You’re the worst, Johnny.”
Above him, Paul kept giggling. “Georgehehehie…” He whined, “Your hair!”
“What about it?” George yawned, tightening his hold on the man.
“G— Eheha! Gehehet it out of my neck!
“Stop fuckin’ squirming, Paul. I’m tryin’ to sleep!”
Paul held deathly still, hoping the sensation would cease if he stopped moving. It worked for a moment, before he burst into giggles again.
“I’m not even doin’ anything!”
“Ehehe! Georgieee!” He laughed, high pitched and whiny.
“Fuckin’ hell! Alright!” George acquiesced and sat up. He pouted, hair stuck up in every direction. All he wanted to do was get some revenge, not completely lose his cuddle buddy.
Paul breathed a sigh of relief below him, rubbing at his neck to get rid of the feeling. Finally, he opened his eyes.
“Where’re you going, Georgie?” He asked, confused.
“You told me to move?” George replied, equally confused.
“Told you to get off me neck! Didn’t say to leave, y’know!”
With that, he yanked George back down onto his chest. He and Ringo shared an exchange, the latter of which watching with amusement.
“Dramatic, this one. Looked like a kicked puppy, thinkin’ I wouldn’t let him cuddle!”
The absolute bastard could be tickled to pieces and still make George blush.
…But as long as he kept petting his hair, George really couldn’t bring himself to care.