#this tickled me fghjk

[t4yce]

TRIXIE MATTEL + ORVILLE PECK •  i like to watch | the brothers sun

[seromreven]

title: don’t suppose.

anonymous requested: “i don’t know if you do requests anymore (then ignore this, sorry!) but if you are, can i request just a paul and gender neutral reader being soft and a Power Duo? tysm for your time! have a lovely day”

warnings: alcohol, fghjk.

author’s note: y’all.... Y’ALL, it’s so fucking hot and it’s past midnight. the fuck

---

1967,

In the dark deep lair of the wine bar and restaurant known as Cascades, we could find you. You sat practically in the lap of your boyfriend Paul in a snug corner booth at the far end of the restaurant. You had been there for hours and still had no plans to leave yet. 

Two hands intertwined, the others on glasses of red wines; you whispered sweet nothing and jokes to each other as you watched the guests talk amongst themselves (occasionally throwing glances to the two of you) and the busy waiters run about. You were left alone for once and you were grateful for it. Ever since your boyfriend had stopped touring the mania surrounding him and his bandmates and calmed ever so slightly down. It was still largely around but here in the dark lounge, you were left in peace. 

For the most part; you noted as you watched with a bitter sigh what was obviously a reporter come nearer and nearer towards your table with a heavy camera around his neck and a notepad fanning in his hand as he tried getting the attention of your boyfriend. You whispered a warning into his ear and watched as his smile fade as thoughts began to raise through his mind. “This’ll be interesting” he muttered under his breath.

The reporter neared and without a single word, sat down in front of you with a beaming smile on his face. Paul and you cast a silent glance towards each other and tightened the grip around your hands.

“Wow, I am so glad to finally find you, Mr McCartney!”

The reporter yelled over the loud music; fully ignoring you to focus all his sights unto your boyfriend. You might as well have been invisible or not there at all to this guy. Paul reluctantly let go of his wine glass to shake the stranger’s hand. He began a long line of questions that the both of you equally ignored as you fiddled with the hands of each other under the table; trying to stifle the giggles that erupted from you as you tickled or pinched one another. The reporter seemed largely oblivious to it as he ranted about one thing or another somewhat related to the music industry. The reporter finally noticed that no one's attention was on him and he coughed loudly into a closed fist.

“Oh, he finally stopped talking,” you giggled with your head on Paul’s shoulder. The reporter frowned and stuttered out; “and… and who are you?”

Paul tsked at him and glanced to you shortly with a smirk; “someone hasn’t done their homework,” he said in a sing-song voice as you laughed in response. The man looked around with growing worry and confusion at his own social survival and Paul puffed out his chest with pride as he dramatic shot up with an open palm pointing towards you; 

“My dear fellow, you’re looking at [full name], none other than the award-winning author and poet. Heralded by many and all and whom you should be more interested in than humble ol’ me,” you both burst out in laughter as Paul fumbled back down in his not so sober state of being and you watched the man on the other side of the table grow red-faced and sprint out of the room through the cloud of your joined laugher; barely remembering to get his bearings and things in order.