Work Text:
High Park, Scotland, 1971
“Oh for Christ’s sake...”
Pauline’s fingers crinkled the delicate newspaper around the bright, bold, loud headline: IS MUSICAL GENIUS AND ACTIVIST JOAN LENNON A QUEER?
Underneath was a black-and-white photo of Joan, and her now-public girlfriend, Yoko Ono. The woman who had accompanied Joan to the studios often during the later time of the Ladybugs. The woman that Pauline knew Joan loved now.
Joan was a queer, she had figured for years. Yet now that it was revealed to everyone else outside of their very close friends, why did it still upset her so?
The text right under the photo read, After Lennon’s recent turn into political activism and peace-leaning ideologies, the star takes it a step further by revealing her current relationship.
Pauline quickly skimmed through the article, skipping over “could this be the end of her career?” and “what does this controversy mean for the fans?” as well as a direct quote from Yoko herself, saying that everyone is “inherently bisexual.”
Pauline swore a few more times just for good measure, and tossed the paper to the side. What games was Joan playing? They already had their own disputes for the past few years already, and perhaps this was the last straw.
Joan loves Yoko, the papers say, Joan loves Yoko! For all the world to see. It was frustrating, really. If Joan was out to the world, then what the hell did all of those years mean to her?
The years spent touring and writing together, the ones where Pauline was almost sure of herself, because she found someone to share her feelings with. Someone she understood, connected with. Someone with whom she was sure she would’ve spent the rest of her life, one way or another.
The same person who was so terribly ashamed, that if anyone who knew about it dared bring it up, she would lash out at them.
It was a secret, Joan had told her. A secret that she’d better be sure to fucking keep.
And here she was, laying it all out for the world to see. Pauline was somewhat jealous, because like Joan (at least until this point), she had done well to keep her secret. People never batted an eye if she dated a man, and now with Linda, everyone passed it off as a purely creative partnership.
The exact title they had given Pauline and Joan in the Ladybugs.
She sighed just as Linda entered the room, which by itself already brought a half-smile to Pauline’s face. She sat down next to her on the couch, leaning on Pauline’s shoulder. “Hey, you alright, dear? You’ve got to be a bit more careful with the swearing, Heather and Mary are only just in the other room.”
Pauline chuckled to herself, holding Linda’s hand, hoping it would bring her more comfort. “Sorry, I’m… fine.”
The newspaper lay askew on the floor, and she didn’t want to pick it up, because how was she supposed to tell her new love that she wished it should’ve been her in the papers, her preaching about sexuality to the world, her professing her feelings.
How it should’ve been her that Joan still loved.
***
New York City, 1964
Glancing around nervously, Pauline pretended to pick at her nails and hum to the music playing quietly from the record player. Now was her chance to ask Joan a question that had been bothering her for months, probably even longer. They finally had the hotel room to themselves, so why not?
She was nervous for good reason. The year before, when she hosted a party at her Aunt Gin’s house, Joan had attacked one of their promoters for making a dumb joke regarding Joan’s Spain holiday with Briar. Of course Joan was drunk that day, and had tried to sober up more afterward.
Yet she was still volatile, and Pauline was sure of it. Was it really a good idea to bring it up while they were still on tour?
“Alright there, Paulie?”
She snapped out of her thoughts, to look at Joan, who looked concerned at her finger. She had picked the nail until it began to bleed, without her noticing.
“Oh–”
She hurriedly wiped it on her black skirt.
“A few more minutes, you wouldn’t have yer bloody hand left.” Joan muttered and resumed boredly tapping her fingers on the glass table next to the couch. Clearly none of the books were interesting enough for her to read, and she wasn’t feeling in a mood to write. The awkward quiet was becoming unbearable for Pauline.
“Jo, do you actually like– are you a queer?” The words slipped out from her mouth before she could stop them, and she regretted saying them at all. The silence became far too heavy, and she could practically feel the look Joan was giving her before she even saw her face. She hurried to correct herself.“I don’t mean it in, well like–”
“And if I am?” Joan replied, a slight edge to her voice. “And if I dig girls, too? What?”
Pauline frowned, as it seemed Joan was taking it the wrong way. She loved Joan, really, and would never criticize her for something like that. But she knew she couldn’t just say that.
“It wouldn’t matter to me. If you were like, y’know. Because I–”
“‘Cause what, Paulie?” Joan seemed to perk up, her crooked half-smile appearing. “Have you got something to tell, eh?”
“Oh, sod off! No, of course not!” she laughed, brushing it off. Joan slid over to her side of the couch, closing the distance between them, close enough that Pauline could smell her strong perfume. That only made matters worse.
“You sure?” Joan said, blinking excessively. It was just teasing, but at that moment, Pauline wasn’t sure if it was a joke anymore. All of her beliefs of who she thought she was had already begun to crumble, as her doubts she’d been keeping to herself resurged.
“No,” she admitted without thinking, and she shook her head slowly. “I’m… not.”
Joan seemingly relaxed, sighing, “Me neither. And who says we have to be sure?”
“Ah yes, more of Ol’ Lennon’s wisdom,” she cocked an eyebrow, seriously contemplating the words.
“Shut it,” Joan joked half-heartedly, resting her head in her hand in response. Pauline searched the other’s eyes, some sort of secret message, like those they’ve communicated only in glances for years. She searched for an explanation, or an excuse. Something to tell her what to do, because now, staring into her eyes wouldn’t suffice.
“If,” Pauline started to fill the air, “Say, you did dig girls and all…”
Joan gave an expression that read as, Really? When she didn’t continue, Joan said out loud, “Come on and spit it out, then.”
Pauline slowly reached up, to undo the ribbon she had been using as a headband. “Well…”
Joan took this as an invitation and, cautiously, leaned in. Their faces were mere centimeters from each other, where they remained for a few moments, nervous. Scared of what this could mean. Pauline could feel Joan’s breath, as well as her perfume, stronger than ever. Surprisingly enough, she was the one to close the gap between their faces, as all the voices telling her not to do it went silent.
The kiss was slow, gentle, and only lasted a minute or two. Somehow, it was better than anything else she had ever felt in her life. She mindlessly rested her arm on Joan’s shoulder, as Joan grinned quickly into the kiss.
However, Joan was the first to pull away, with Pauline’s lips following hers before realizing what she was doing. She caught hints of a smile on Joan’s face before it was gone. It contrasted the soft smile Pauline could feel on her own face.
“You’re not going to… tell anyone about this, ‘re ya?” Joan’s tone was suspect, almost accusatory. She got the feeling that Joan had definitely done this before with someone else. “Jane Pauline McCartney, I swear to fucking–”
“I wouldn’t,” she assured, a bit shocked by her full name. She was still a bit disappointed at how upset Joan seemed about it, because she thought this was it. This was what she was waiting for. This could fill the void of all uncertainty and troubles in her life, as long as it was kept secret.
Joan chuckled, bringing her back to reality, “Alright, you can quit staring now. The moment’s over.”
“I wasn’t staring,” she rolled her eyes, ignoring how this was Joan confirming that these events wouldn’t repeat themselves.
Joan nodded and her usual smirk returned, along with a creative spark in her eyes. She found the hotel’s memo notepad on the coffee table, and began jotting down words, soon-to-be lyrics perhaps.
It was disheartening for Pauline to watch her move on so quickly with no other words than essentially, “You’re not going to tell anyone? Good, ‘cause it’s over.” It was never real, was it? It was only a question, and a casual kiss. Something that could’ve happened between them.
It was as if it never happened, or would never happen again. Pauline’s inner conflict was back as quickly as it had left.
On one hand, it was better if it had never happened. If any word of it got out, the Ladybugs would be over. On the other, despite herself, Pauline found herself wanting more. She wanted to feel Joan’s lips smile into hers again. Maybe even run her fingers through Joan’s auburn hair. Or maybe to interlock fingers and hold her hand.
But love was more than that, wasn’t it?
***
New York City, 1976
Luckily for Pauline, Joan answered the knock at her apartment door. “Paulie?”
She did her best to grin, trying to ignore that this was her second time showing up at the Dakota alone and uninvited — except this time she didn’t have her guitar. “How’ve you been, Joan, love?”
Joan shrugged indifferently. “Alright, I s’pose. Yoko’s out on a trip, and er, well, Sean’s here.”
“Can I see him?” Pauline asked quickly. Joan looked skeptical. “C’mon, I’m only here to catch up with you.”
“You think you can just show up here alone unannounced?” she asked, echoing in the hallway.
Pauline nodded, standing her ground against Joan, a trick she’d learned long ago. “Yeah,” she nodded.
Joan laughed, unable to reject her old friend from her doorstep, and nodded her inside. “Well, go on then.”
As Pauline walked past inside the nice-looking apartment, Joan asked, “Where’s Linda?”
“With the kids at the hotel,” Pauline answered as she walked over to the little cot bed where Joan’s son lay asleep.
“Cute, isn’t he?” Joan walked up behind her, crossing her arms.
“Too bad he’s sleeping,” Pauline took a seat on a nearby armchair, and the other woman sat opposite her. “I’m sure he’d love to meet his new aunt.”
“I wasn’t too into my aunt when I met her either,” Joan grinned at her own joke, and for a second, Pauline saw a flash of the Joan she once knew. Joan, not paying her much attention, turned on her transistor radio, and began flipping through channels aimlessly.
“Y’know,” Pauline started to get her attention, but really this was why she was here in the first place. “I’d like to tell you, what you and Yoko are doing, it’s… good. All the, er, what do they call it?”
“The music?” Joan giggled in disbelief, finally looking back at her. “The new Wings album is half-decent, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to say.”
“It’s not,” she snorted, but the approval felt nice.
“Silly Love Songs is number one!” she said, mocking the radio commentators. “Anyways, aren’t ya s’posed to be performing at Madison Square Garden?”
“You thinking of making an appearance?” Pauline raised an eyebrow, already knowing her answer.
“Nah, I’ve got obligations now,” she chuckled as she gestured to Sean. She looked up in thought, “It’d be good for the fans, sure. But… I’m not sure it’d be good for me.”
“It’d be good for me,” Pauline muttered. Joan really let out a cackle at that.
“No, it wouldn’t,” she shook her head. “It’s a Wings concert, not the Ladybugs or anything. It’s not like you’d want to go up there with me to sing… fuckin’ She Loves You, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Pauline jokingly sang along. But she knew there would be no convincing Joan. Once she made up her mind, she was insanely stubborn about it. Until you'd wait a year or two, and then she’d probably change her mind about something.
After a bit more of laughter and banter, Pauline clarified, “I meant, well, when I said what you and Yoko were doing, I meant with your… activism, and all. It’s quite refreshing.”
“Then why don’t you?” Joan retorted with jarring seriousness. Her face softened. “I’m just playing around with ya. You and Linda got your whole thing going on, right? Vegetarianism?”
Pauline laughed. “Yep, bloody vegetarianism. That’s activism itself, I think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They both cracked up at the same time. Half of the time, their jokes never made sense. To anyone else except them, really.
Not all of that conversation was a joke, though, as it was affirming that they had their own paths now. They loved each other still, maybe not in the same ways as they used to.
Pauline still felt intense yearning for Joan, maybe not in the same way that Joan longed for her then. Maybe it could’ve happened earlier, if they had really tried. Or maybe, there was just no chance for them at all.
Maybe in another life, then, perhaps, they could’ve found some type of love that wouldn’t eventually self-destruct.