The bowler hats. Paul sure had missed those bowler hats.

     When you go hitchhiking, see, you need something that'll get people's attention. You need to stand out and be noticed. And since Paul and John were planning in hitchhiking all the way to Spain (though Paul already knew that they wouldn't make it any further than Paris), they really needed to stand out.

     First they hitchhiked all through England and then caught a ferry to the northern part of France. From there, they took a train that brought them to Reims. In Reims, they caught a ride with a guy delivering packaged foods to a super market in Paris.

     Paul was grinning from ear to ear when they stepped out of that man's truck, thanking him for the ride. He knew that they'd reached their final destination, even if John didn't realize it just yet...and he couldn't be happier. Paris was one of the best memories he had, not just of John but overall. It was one of his fav route memories and he held onto it everyday of his life. He kept the photographs in a photo album that was in his house. Every time he went home to England he would sit by the fireplace with a cup of tea and that photo album and he'd just look through it for hours, smiling to himself as he recalled old memories.

     "Smile, Macca," John said, pointing his camera at Paul. Paul laughed at him and just before he could stop and smile, John snapped the picture. "Come on, let's get a hotel. It's nearly sunset."

     "Good idea," Paul nodded.

     The two of them walked a few blocks until they found a hotel. It was decent looking so they looked to one another and shrugged then headed inside to book a room.

      Soon they were putting their bags and guitars (because of course they brought techie guitars!) down on their beds (which were small and far too firm and lumpy). Paul took his bowler hat off and spun it on his finger, whistling. "Well, Johnny, what do you say you and me go and check out the city?"

     "I say, let's fucking do it!" John grinned. "Come on!"

     Paul put his hat back on and John turned up the collar of his leather jacket, then they were off!

     They found a little cafe several blocks from their hotel and got a table outside. From where they were sitting, they had a perfect few of the Eiffel Tower. "Beautiful, innit?" Paul smiled and John watched him, watched how his eyes twinkled in the fading light. And, he noted, how they glistened with unshed tears.

     "Aw, don't tell me you're going soft on me, Paulie," John punched him playfully, grinning. Paul looked at him and smiled and a few stubborn tears escaped his beautiful, doe brown eyes and rolled down over his cheeks that were turning oink from the cold October air. "Is something wrong, Macca? You all right?"

      "Yeah, I'm fine," Paul nodded and chuckled. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands quickly and then looked up at John again, beaming. "Better than fine. I'm perfect. Couldn't get better than this... I just can't believe we're really here. It's so much nicer than I could have ever imagined."

     "I know," John nodded. "It's so nice and peaceful... No noisy crowds every night in the Cavern Club, no nagging Mimi.... God, we should just stay here forever!"

     "Oh, come on," Paul said. "What about the Beatles? Georgie is back home, too. And admit it, you love Mimi, no matter how much she gets on your nerves."

     "Yeah," John shrugged his shoulders. "It's great, though. Just you and me and the city of love." He winked and it was playful, but there was something so sincere and longing behind it that made Paul's breath catch in the back of his throat.

     He shook it off.

     "We should go see the Eiffel Tower," Paul said. "Up close."

     "Tonight?" John raised an eyebrow.

     "In the morning," Paul said. "It's too long of a walk to make now. It'll be dark pretty soon. But tomorrow we should go and spend the day in the area and just look at it during the day and then...and then at night. God, people say it's gorgeous at night. Especially up close."

     "We've got to leave early tomorrow morning if we're ever going to make it to Spain," John pointed out.

      "Then let's skip Spain," Paul said. "Let's spend the week here!"

      "You think we should?" John said, obviously considering it.

     "Yes, absolutely!" Paul nodded. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here. Do you?"

       John thought about it and eventually he nodded. "Yeah, I do. I want that, too. Let's do it! Let's spend the week in bloody Paris!"

      "Yes!" Paul exclaimed.

~~~

      "No," John hissed in his sleep.

      Oh, come on. Not here, Paul thought. Not now. He leapt out of his bed and hurried over to John's, shaking him. "John. Wake up, Johnny."

      John's eyes opened slowly and he frowned up at Paul. "I'm sorry," he said. He'd never apologized before and he realized that he should have a long time ago. And not just for waking him up every night, he thought to himself. "I'm so sorry."

     Paul shook his head. "You've got nothing to be sorry for,"

     "Yes, I do," John said. "I've got so much to be sorry for, Paul."

     "You're half asleep, John," Paul shook his head again and climbed back beneath the covers on his bed. "Go back to sleep." This wasn't at all like John. Not really. Paul would let his guard down around Paul once in a while but never like this.

      "I'm sorry," John whispered once more.

      Paul didn't answer. He couldn't answer.

~~~

      They woke up early the next morning, got dressed and ate some breakfast at the small food stand in the hotel lobby, then set out. They stopped at a payphone to call George.

     "Hey, Georgie!" Paul said.

     "Hi! Are you in Spain already?" He asked. "I figured it'd take you another few days."

     "No, we're not in Spain," Paul said. "We're in Paris. And we've decided that, because it's such a great city, we're going to spend a week here instead."

     "Paris! Nice!" George said.

     "Well, I've got to go," Paul said. "We're heading out to see the Eiffel Tower now. I'll try and call again tomorrow, yeah?"

     "Yeah," George said. "Enjoy yourselves. See you next week!"

     "See you then," Paul said and hung the phone up. "Okay," he turned to John with a huge grin. "Let's go!"

      It took about an hour and a half to walk to the Eiffel Tower, but it was well worth it. It was so beautiful! Even more so than Paul remembered! He snatched the camera from John and quickly snapped a photograph before John could even thing to form a smile on his face. "What was that for, you sod?" John said.

      Paul just laughed and earned an eye roll from John.

     "Lunch?" John said and Paul nodded, so they went to the nearest restaurant that they could find. It quickly became clear, however, that the waiters only spoke French and absolutely nothing else.

     So Paul, forgetting that he hadn't started picking up French until the mid sixties, ordered their food. "Um, pain et du fromage, s'il vous plaît ? Certains vins, aussi. Et ... euh ... il avoir de la viande et je dois salade. Merci."

     The waiter squinted a bit in concentration as Paul spoke but finally nodded when Paul was done and wrote everything down then walked away.

     "Where did that come from?" John said, looking both puzzled and impressed.

     "Oh, I've picked some French up here and there." Nice going, Paul, he scolded himself. "Anyway, stop looking so impressed. That was probably extremely grammatically incorrect and I'm not even sure what I ordered you - some kind of meat. I know we're having bread, cheese, and wine though. And I hopefully ordered myself a salad."

      John laughed, watching Paul with admiring eyes that made Paul blush and he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

     It turned out that Paul had done well enough because they got their bread, cheese, and wine and John got a piece of some kind of meat and Paul got his salad.

      After the check was paid, John and Paul left the restaurant and wandered about the area, taking pictures and wondering at how one city could hold so much beauty.

     After the sun had set, John and Paul went back to the Eiffel Tower. There were lights shining off of it and it stood out so clearly against the star filled sky. They stood and stared for a long time. Well, Paul did anyway. Because though he didn't notice, John was watching him the whole night long.

~~~

      It was on the fifth night of their holiday that they stayed in for the night, drinking beer and playing guitar. Messing around with some chords and notes, and some lyrics.

     "What ever happened to that song you've been working on for months?" Paul asked. He hadn't heard John trying to figure out another verse to Please Please Me in a while.

      John shrugged. "I don't know, it just doesn't seem to be working out. Shame, too. I liked that one. A lot. I thought it had quite a bit of potential, but I don't know anymore..."

     "I think you'll finish it one day," Paul nodded. "It's good, John."

     John smiled. "Thanks, Paul."

     They continued drinking beer and singing and drinking beer and laughing and talking and drinking beer and singing some more and joking around and did I mention drinking beer? Yes, they drank lots and lots of beer that night, to the point that they were absolutely hammered.

      The thing is, Paul didn't drink quite as much beer as John, so he still had some of his senses about him. If he had just drank some more, maybe the night would have been smoother. But maybe, just maybe, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to admit it, that night was the best night of Paul's life (including the first and second time round).

     "So Please Please Me is out, but I'm working on a new song," John said and giggled a bit for no apparent reason and all Paul could think was, Damn, he's drunk.. Then again so am I!

     "Okay, let's hear it, then." Paul said and John nodded. "Is this one finished?" Paul asked and John nodded again.

     "Well," John laughed. "Here goes nothing!"

      Paul watched him carefully.

     His fingers fumbled a bit and he slurred some of his words, but even though he was drunker than he'd probably ever been in his life, John Lennon played beautifully and sang so wonderfully that you'd think him an angel. When he sang, watching Paul all the while, and Paul watching him in turn, Paul's heart quite nearly stopped completely.

      "I get high when I see you go by
My oh my
When you sigh, my, my inside just flies
Butterflies
Why am I so shy when I'm beside you?"

      Oh, not again! Paul thought.

     "It's only love and that is all
Why should I feel the way I do?
It's only love, and that is all
But it's so hard loving you,"

      Paul was so busy thinking about how the song wasn't supposed to be written yet that he didn't even notice the way John was watching him with every longing word he sang. 1965! Paul thought, Please Please Me was one thing but It's Only Love isn't supposed to be written until 1965!! Oh, Lord...

     "Is it right that you and I should fight
Every night?
Just the sight of you makes nighttime bright
Very bright
Haven't I the right to make it up, love?"

      Paul really began to notice how John was looking at him, especially when he sang the word 'love' in the place of 'girl'. He swallowed hard.

     "It's only love and that is all
Why should I feel the way I do?
It's only love, and that is all
But it's so hard loving you
Yes it's so hard loving you, loving you,"

      They were silent. Dead silent.

     I said I was ready to find out what he realized in Hamburg, Paul thought to himself. And there's no going back now.... Shit. Here goes nothing. "I like it," he said and wet his lips, which he noticed had gone very dry. "Was there - I mean, uh - did you have anyone in mind when you wrote that?"

      "Yeah," John nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Paul's own. "Yeah, there was."

      Paul was shaking all over and his hands, in particular, were shaking like leaves in the wind. "Wh-who? If you don't mind my asking..."

      John's expression was caught somewhere between a drunk grin and a nervous stare. He took a deep breath before he said the word that Paul was sure would drive him mad. "You,"

      Paul swallowed. "What?"

      John tilted his head. "Paul... I love you."

      The world froze. Nothing moved and Paul couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak, or move. He couldn't even blink.

      And then he was moving, because he suddenly found himself running down a sidewalk, the hotel slowly growing smaller and smaller behind him. He thought that maybe he should stop, maybe he should even go back. If he ran way from John now, it could ruin everything and then he wouldn't be able to save him!

      He didn't stop though.

     Linda came to mind. Linda, and how much Paul had loved her - how much he still loved her! He thought of how wonderful their time together had been. He thought of how heartbroken he had been when she had died, and how much of a failure he felt like because he couldn't save her now!

     He thought of Nancy, back in the twenty first century. He'd probably never end up meeting Nancy, now.

      Then he thought of the F.H.O. and started blaming them for all of it! That mess! It was all because of them!

      And John. John who had just confessed his love for Paul which was just ridiculous! Because John couldn't be in love with him,mint was John! It was John! It was John... It was John...

      And then Paul was running, but no longer away from the hotel. Oh, no. He was running toward the hotel. He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, and pushing for them to go faster. Because seriously, what had he been thinking?

     This sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he couldn't breathe quite right (though that could have been from all of the running), but it hit him and it made sense.

     Because it was John, he realized as he ran up the stairs in the hotel! It was John and in some level, he'd always loved John! It was something he'd always known, but just barely admitted to himself....until now.

      It was John! And of course he loved John! He always had, and he always would! He just hasn't realized quite how much he loved John.

      Until now.

      He burst through the door and slammed it shut behind himself. John was sitting on a chair, running his fingers through his hair, looking more stressed out than Paul had ever seen him (and that was certainly saying something). When he heard the door, he looked up and clambered to his feet. "Paul, I - I can - "

      "John?" Paul cut him off.

     "Y-yeah?" John gulped.

      Paul strode forward so that he was standing mere inches from John. "Shut up and kiss me, yeah?"

      John furrowed his brows as if he hadn't understood what Paul had just said to him. In all honestly, he hadn't. Not really. He couldn't comprehend what Paul was saying, and what he could grasp made him quite sure that Paul was mocking him. "I - "

      "I'm serious, John," Paul said, breathing heavily. "I'm not messing with you. Just, please," Paul looked him dead in the eye. "Please, just fucking kiss me already!"

      John hesitated only a moment longer before he pulled Paul into him and kissed him and it was all mouths, lips, tongues, and so many unspoken words. Words that they never thought they could say we're just moving between them, and they never really needed to be spoken.

      It was pure bliss. Neither of them had ever felt anything quite like this and they were reveling in it, never wanting it to end.

      Paul was bothered by how easy it was to melt into John's touch and kiss him desperately as if this had always gone on between them, but only for a few seconds and then he was lost in the way it felt when John swiped his tongue over Paul's bottom lip, and the way John's hair felt between his fingers. Paul felt like he was floating, soaring. He felt as if he were high, honestly, and this was a high he really never wanted to come down from.

      John was a drug, he really was. Paul had never tried this before, but now that he had he wouldn't be able to stop even if he wanted to. He was already addicted to the way John wound his arms around his waist and pulled him in, even if it had only been a few minutes.

      If this was how he was meant to save the world then, well, maybe it wasn't so bad.

~~~

A/N: I can practically smell all of the "finally" comments that await me, but hey, I made you wait 15 chapters so I suppose I deserve it. Comment away!

But seriously, I hope this chapter made you squeal.