#dfghjkl back to it lads

[courtillyy]

im sorry but im just still not over the way wes looks at fred !!!

[seromreven]

Do you know the song 'flightless bird, American mouth' ? (It's in twilight when they're at prom) All I've been thinking about is a mclennon hc for that song ajdkdk it's so cute. It'd be great if you could write it but if you don't know the song that's okay :)

me and headcanons are dfghjkl so here’s a story instead. and i’m not terribly familiar with the song but i hope this fits and you like it!

—

1959,

Paul had stayed the night at John’s. They had been out late the night before, performing till shit o’clock and barely getting home in their completely blasted drunk state. Mimi was visiting family out of town which worked in their favour as they entered the house yelling, singing, and knocking everything over in their path to get to the bed.

They had collapsed on the hard mattress in a huddle, barely getting off their shoes and jackets beforehand.

So, Paul woke up in John’s bed the morning after. He was alone which was strange. John was ever the sleeper and would sleep as long as he could which meant that Paul would always be up before him.

It was still dark out, though it was early morning, and Paul yawned as he stretched out while looking around the room. The small ceiling light was on but John was nowhere to be seen. The lid of the old record player John had in his room stood open though it was empty of any records.

Paul grudgingly stood up from the bed and tucked slightly had his plain shirt. It sat uncomfortably tight on him as it had been wet from rain and sweat the day previously and it hadn’t helped the matter that he had fallen asleep in it.

He stood in silence on the cold floor, trying to see if he could hear John anywhere close but nothing came from it and he went to the bathroom down the narrow hallway and quickly washed his face, wanting to feel clean and fresh. He hummed a small tune as he pissed and washed his hands afterwards. Hygiene is important, lads!

Getting back in the room; he saw John leaned over the record player. Wait, when did he get there? And how hadn’t Paul heard him? Well, anyhow, John seemed to be oblivious to Paul’s reappearance as he put on a record while whistling to himself. It sounded familiar but a name didn’t come to Paul. He took the chance to check out his boyfriend’s bum. It was very nice. But nothing more could Paul think of it before John had turned around and stared back at Paul with a tired smile.

“Morning,” he said as the record skipped and started behind him. It was a slow melody and Paul instantly relaxed at the soft tunes it gave out.

And before Paul could say anything back in response; John had put his arms around his waist and started slightly swaying along to the music. Paul laughed silently and put his hands on John’s shoulder as he joined in on the swaying.

He was soon rewarded with a light, morning breath riddled, kiss on his soft lips as John leaned in to rest his forehead against Paul’s as they continued in slower steps around the room.

It was morning like these Paul always loved and looked forward to in his time with John. He could be a right old bastard. Spiteful and sarcastic. But, oh, he could be so wonderful and soft. So romantic with gestures and music. Careful in his attempts at courting and being aware of Paul’s feelings.

And while their relationship was something to hide and be secretive of; Paul found comfort in the thoughts of growing old with his dear friend and lover. Found comfort in thinking of a world that would accept them as they were and he thought of the house in the countryside with John; two wrinkled hands holding each other as they listened to the music of their youth.