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The windscreen to their van had burst open while on their way back to Liverpool from a gig, and the solution posed to counteract the shivering from the winter cold was to stack upon each other.
Paul loved long trips; train rides, car rides, bus rides, as long as he was with someone. They could be strangers, he didn’t care, but being together, all in one vehicle, he felt a sense of camaraderie with every last person. Everyone’s all trapped in a situation together, like this one, where the merits of sharing body heat had been exposed in a much more practical use than sheepishly asking John whether he’d sleep in the same bed as him on account of a December chill.
So John was on top of him in this ‘Beatles sandwich’, legs slipped on either side of Paul’s right thigh. George and Ringo were smushed beside them on the van floor, copying the look. George was pinned to the ground by Ringo, laying like a shivering, sleeping cat on his chest. This wasn’t trapping the heat as well as when they were all stacked on each other, but it was much easier to breathe.
Their pairings had, by “mistake,” split up to put Paul in a position he was nearly scared of. He would be less frightened by Ritchie or Georgie on top of him, but he was where he wanted to be. He was under John. He had his arms wrapped around John’s waist, John’s chin on his shoulder, his hair just barely brushing his cheek. Paul’s stomach did flips, craving the contact, although already sated. John’s soft stomach pressed against his own made Paul wonder if John’s was doing flips too.
John shivered whenever Paul moved his hands. He wished they had blankets in their van. They weren’t the best planners yet. For now, John was his blanket, and John was getting cold.
“Wanna flip?” Paul asked, John’s suit jacket cold under his fingertips. It was odd how soft he was outwardly now. The past few years Paul had known John, he was one of the only who could see through John’s tough, leather exterior, see the softness of his brown eyes, his hair. John out of those teddy boy clothes, well he never lost his personality, but he was letting vulnerability show in ways less violent. He allowed his face to smooth, to quieten, and listened.
“Yeah, alright,” John huffed, bundling his shoulders to his ears as a chill went through him and he sat up. Their bodies were pressed to Ringo’s and George’s in the limited space of the van, huddled for warmth on the floor. How Mal was managing while driving, they could only commend.
John’s knees held his weight in the moving vehicle, a hand on Paul’s chest to keep himself steady as he raised himself up, so Paul could scoot over, eyes shining the reflection of the moonlight out the window, and sit up himself.
George mumbled something, half asleep beside Paul as John slipped down beside him, laying on his cold back, shoving himself against George as Paul made room, and carefully laid himself down against John’s side, purposefully laying against the other two for extra warmth.
“Hey,” John mumbled, patting on Paul’s left shoulder. “I’m cold over here!” John patted his left, unaccompanied hip.
Paul sighed and nodded. “I must be fair, shouldn’t I?” Their faces were inches apart, voices whispers.
John nodded, his vulnerability washed up to desperation, and Paul shifted, face tensing awkwardly as he laid directly on top of John, thighs pressed to thighs. He sat up on his elbows to put space between their faces.
John’s hair was pushed back, slightly greasy too, his head resting fully against the floor until he raised it. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Your face. I-I guess,” Paul stammered. It was the truth. He didn’t want to come off as flirtatious, did he? “It's right in front of me.”
John’s hands were lingering on the floor, nearly scared to touch, as if they would be an erotic response to Paul’s murmurings.
“Yours isn’t so bad either,” John’s eyes flicked up and down his face playfully, as he often did. John flirted with him all the time. Maybe as protection. “It’s why we even get people comin’ to see us, after we ditched Pete.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Come off it.”
But John couldn’t stop. He couldn’t bring himself to call Paul anything but pretty. Not even playfully, an insult near to ugly would never be true enough to be damaging. The hint of John’s attraction was worse, as if he was teasing the fact they could never be together.
John tapped Paul’s chin with his hand, bringing his thought-heavy eyes back to his. “Are ye cold?”
Paul nodded. “Who wouldn’t be?”
John’s arms finally wrapped around Paul’s back, and Paul smiled, shifting his arms to wrap one around John’s neck, and tuck the other under one of John’s. His face rested against John’s cheek, and Paul felt safe.
With his eyes closed, Paul could feel the vibration of the van, the thrum of the engine, John’s chest expanding as he breathed, and Paul didn’t even feel cold. It was as if a blanket had been thrown on top of him, and he could feel its silky softness against his chin, tucked in safely. He could nearly hear John blinking, he was so close. The rapid fluttering as John processed the weight of his bandmate on him. Paul could feel as John turned his head just slightly, until his nose bumped Paul’s and he left a light kiss against the corner of Paul’s lips.
Paul opened his eyes, meeting John’s shocked, open eyes, breathing quietly for a moment. Paul couldn’t even take it upon himself to react in hysterics like he practiced in his head, and tightened his arm around John’s neck, and kissed his lips, leaching the look of regret from John’s face.
Paul sighed, relieved John had kissed back, pulled away, and rested a hand on John’s chest, tucking it under his chin as he settled his head back against John’s contentedly. John’s hands soothed over Paul’s hipbones like he was scared to do before.
Ringo coughed beside them, clothes dragging as he shifted himself on George, a hand resting curved around George’s shoulder. His eyes peeked open, glazed and tried, wiping across John and Paul’s entwined bodies. He shivered and buried his head further into George’s chest.
John let out a quick breath, and Paul shushed him, right into his ear. “It’s okay, John.” He kissed his neck. “Johnny, love. They don’t mind us, right?”
A squeak curled out of John’s throat, his lips dropped open.
Paul’s brows knit together, and he raised his hand, curling it in John’s hair, scratching his nails along his scalp, trying to sooth away the fear John was trembling in.
John was his teddy boy admirer, his claim to fame, his leader, his lover to be? John was strong, he thought. He felt safe in his arms, and he rubbed his hand down John’s chest in hopes he felt safe in his.
John’s tight breathing slowed by the lightness of Paul’s touch, grabbing Paul’s hand with his own. John left a kiss against his fingers, eyes distant.
Paul grinned and turned their hands, biting down ever softly on John’s hand, and leaving a little lick to sweeten it.
John’s lips quivered up quickly. “You minx,” John sighed.
Paul nodded confidently. “Ever the charmer, aren’t I? Your words. Pretty Beatle, all that?”
John sighed, rocking Paul by the hip. “I may ‘ave.”
“You’re not just trying to tease me, are you?” Paul whispered. Their proximity to the others was not a worry to Paul. They were too at ease to care. Paul laid his head closer, lips brushing his ear. He whispered, “You like me.”
John wrapped the arm around Paul’s back and nodded. “I guess it was obvious.”
Paul nodded, and shook his head, and nodded, and kissed John’s neck. “I just know I like you a- a whole bunch, you know? I thought- well maybe you did too. I hoped.”
John shook his head. “But we can’t.”
Paul chose not to speak, but to sink into the heat of John, and bear the cold on his back. He kissed John again, and a second time, and John dug his nose against Paul’s ear, seeking closeness, and kissed his ear.
The blanket didn’t fall so heavily this time, but the man below him, warm and insecure as always, quiet, loud, tentative, attentive, he was all, and Paul loved it all. He let himself be engulfed by his presence and his love and his warmth, and fell asleep with John’s fingers in his hair and at his waist, bearing the cold because he had it good enough in his heart with the knowledge that John couldn’t keep up denying their connection for long. They still loved each other, and that love would never go away, even if they were torn apart, or the whole world had it out against them. It could never be taken away.