A couple weeks after the terribly uncomfortable dinner at the McCartney household, it was just a few days until the Beatles left for Germany.

Paul and John got up in the morning and went to the kitchen. John got the cereal out of the cupboard, the milk out of the fridge, and a bowl. "Do you want me to get you a bowl, too?"

"No, thanks," Paul shook his head, reaching into the fridge and grabbing an apple. "I'm just going to have an apple. I'm not that hungry."

"Okay," John said, pursing his lips as he began preparing his bowl of cereal.

Paul shot him a pointed look as he bit into his apple. He knew exactly what that look meant. "John, I thought we had a deal." He said, eyebrows raised. "You stop nagging me about my eating habits, and I won't ask about the nightmares, right?"

"Well, you're my boyfriend now," John said. "Can't I worry about you?"

"You want to play that card, huh?" Paul raised his eyebrows impossibly higher.

He needed to calm down, and he knew that, but he was so stressed about seeing Stuart when they were in Germany. He was constantly worried about John, especially after his visit to the F.H.O., and he just wanted to be able to talk to someone about it. But Barney hadn't come by in a few months and it's not like he had anyone in the sixties who he could talk to about it all. He just wanted some peace of mind, a way to know that John was going to be okay.

"Paul, listen - " John sighed.

"No, if you're going to play that card then fine, nag me about my eating habits or whatever you're going to worry over," Paul huffed, slamming his apple down on the counter and leaving it there, forgotten. "But if that's how it's going to be then I've got a question for you, John. How're the nightmares? What are they about? Why won't you talk about them? Why the hell won't you let me help you?!"

"I have let you help me!" John huffed. "Can't you see they're getting better? You haven't had to wake me up in weeks!"

"Are you still having them?" Paul asked.

"Well, yes.. But they're getting better!" John said quickly.

"What're they about?" Paul crossed his arms.

"Paul, please, don't make me talk about this," John pleaded.

"I'm not making you talk about anything," Paul spat. "But if you want to talk to me about what I should and shouldn't do, if you want to stand here and tell me that I should let you help me - when I don't need help, mind you - then you tell me what your nightmares about! So what's it going to be, John?"

John just stared at him.

Paul nodded. "That's what I thought," he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. He went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and turning the lock. He huffed, turning the sink on and splashing water into his face.

You're just stressed.. He told himself. It's all going to okay.

He looked at his reflection, at the man in the mirror who stared back at him with tired eyes that held the weight of many more years than his face.

Paul stared intently at his reflection. His face was gaunt and skinny and pale, not at all like the full and lively appearance he'd had when he was truly twenty years old. He pulled his shirt off and frowned at the sight he saw. His ribcage was extremely prominent. His skin hugged his bones tightly.

He had never been this skinny. But Paul supposed that this was to be expected; he jumped around on a stage most nights and that was plenty of exercise, his diet consisted of mainly fruits and vegetables and tofu, he didn't drink nearly as much beer as he once had, he didn't smoke, and he was under a tremendous amount of stress..

If he ate more, he could be at the peak of his health. But he just wasn't hungry enough. In fact, sometimes he'd feel unbelievably full after just a salad or a piece of seared tofu.

He pulled his shirt back and left the bathroom. He saw John sitting on the sofa with his hands clasped together, so he went over and sat down beside him. He opened his mouth to say something but John beat him to it.

"They started in Hamburg," John said.

Paul looked at him with wide eyes. "John, you don't have to - "

"I'd just broken up with Cyn because I didn't know how long we were going to be away, and quite frankly we just weren't going to work out in the long run." John sighed, ignoring Paul's words. "I was sad, though. I felt lonely even though I never got a moment to myself. So we'd been in Hamburg about two weeks. Exactly two weeks, actually.." John laughed. "Do you remember that night?"

Paul furrowed his brows. "Was that the night you, Stuart, and Pete thought it'd be a grand idea to mix gin and coca-cola?"

"It is," John nodded and laughed again.

"Oh, that was bloody awful," Paul snorted. "I remember George and I found Pete behind a dumpster behind the club the next morning, passed out in a pool of his own vomit. Stuart slept for sixteen Starr guy hours - after throwing up for three. We had just met Ringo a few days earlier and he and George had hit it off, so George went and roomed with him for the night because he's a wimp when it comes to puke and you and Stuart were puking left and right." Paul was grinning and laughing, and for a short while he was actually able to forget about everything that was stressing him out.

"Yeah, yeah," John nodded, and smiled at Paul with the most gentle and loving smile that Paul had ever seen probably in his life.. Like Paul was the only person in the whole world that John cared about.

"I remember you threw up so hard and for so long that the tiny blood vessels in your eyes burst," Paul chuckled. "The whites of your eyes were bright red! It was so creepy! You looked like a demon for a week."

John nodded. "Yep.. Well, that night as he as was knelt in front of the toilet puking my guts out, you sat there with me. All night, Paulie. And I know I must've looked a state, and it's not like sitting with someone as they throw up for hours on end because they probably have alcohol poisoning is an ideal way to spend your night... But you did. You sat there with your hand on my back. I honestly thought I was going to die in the bathroom but sat there with me and you told me I was going to be okay."

Paul smiled. He remembered that, even if he was sure that it was slightly different in his timeline. He was sure that if John were to go into the details of that night there would be some differences... But he remembered that night.

Now that he knew that that was the night John was supposed to fall in love with him, he found himself wishing that John had broken up with Cynthia in the first place. It sounded horrible, but it was true.

"And then you helped me into bed and I remember looking up at you," John said and he was smiling with that loving, gentle smile again. "I looked at your eyes and they were so soft and warm, like you didn't even care that you just spent your night with your drunk, vomiting mess of a friend and I just thought, 'I love him. I love James Paul McCartney.' And then when I woke the next morning - or, should I say, the next afternoon - I thought about it and I was like, 'Wow. That's queer.. But damn, it's true. I love him.' But it took me a whole fucking year to work up the nerve to tell you."

"And you were drunk then, too," Paul giggled.

"Yes, that's true," John nodded, smiling, but then his smile disappeared. Paul couldn't remember John looking quite as somber as he did now outside of when his mum died. "But Hamburg is when the nightmares started... For a long time they were just, well, you finding out about my feelings and you hating me. And you moved in with me and they got worse because I was with you constantly.. As soon as I asked you to move in I thought, 'Well that was a stupid thing to do! He's probably going to figure me out now!' And then in Paris, I barely knew what I was saying I was so drunk, but I heard myself tell you that I love you and then you ran out and I thought, 'My, God, np my nightmares are coming true!' But you came back and kissed me and then we became, well, lovers. Sounds sappy but it's true. So I thought that surely the nightmares would go away.. But we got home from Paris and started sleeping in the same bed and then.." John swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut.

Paul gripped John's shoulder tightly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just upset, I wasn't serious. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," John snapped, eyes flying open. He stared at Pail intently. But then when he saw the look on Paul's face, his expression softened. "I've got to do this, Paulie, and not just because I'm determined to help you. I need to talk about this, I know it'll help me, and I know it."

Paul nodded slowly. "Okay."

John took a deep breath. "I have these dreams, every night..some nights are worse than others.. It's dark, and really cold, and I'm running. At first, I can never remember why, I'm just running. And then I see you and this man with no face and you're looking down, and he's got a gun pressed to your head."

Paul's breath stopped in his throat and his eyes grew wide.

"And I'm screaming your name. Screaming!" John croaked, blinking back the tears that were beginning to well up in his eyes. "But you just keep looking down and then...he shoots you."

"John," Paul croaked.

"And I hold you and you're bleeding out and I just ask you to hold on," John said shakily. "And then you die in my arms. They're getting better, they really are. They're starting to go away now. But I have no clue why they ever started."

Paul threw his arms around John and held him tightly. "It's okay," he kissed him. "I won't leave you."

"Promise?" John said, holding him close.

"Yes, I promise." Paul whispered and kissed him again, deeper this time.

"I love you," John said in between kisses. "I want you."

Paul giggled. "You always do, love." He kissed John's throat.

John pulled Paul into his lap so that he was straddling his hips. "God, you're sexy." John pulled Paul closer to him and licked a stripe from his clavicle up to his jaw. Then he peppered kissed along Paul's jaw.

Paul smiled, winding his hands into John's hair. "You're sexy, too," he leaned down and kissed him, running his tongue along John's bottom lip.

John pulled at Paul's shirt and Paul smiled, pulling his lips away from John's to pull his shirt over his head. He cast it aside and looked at John as the "older" man ran his hands over Paul's pale skin. "You are so beautiful."

Paul smiled and returned his lips to John's. It wasn't a cute kiss my any means. It was all mingling tongues, and teeth bashing into each other, and glorious wetness. "Hey, Johnny?" Paul pulled away again. His lips were slick and bright red. "Do you think that we could maybe move this to the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask," John smirked. Somehow, he managed to stand up while also supporting Paul.

Paul wrapped his legs tightly around John's waist. "Don't drop me this time, yeah?"

John smiled and pressed a loving kiss to Paul's skin where his neck met his shoulder. He made it to the bedroom without dropping Paul, and he kicked the door shut behind himself and tossed Paul onto the mattress.

As Paul pulled his pants down and threw them onto the floor, John pulled his shirt over his head, watching Paul all the while. Paul's shorts soon followed his pants and he propped himself up on his elbows. "Are you coming over here or not?"

John smirked again as he pulled the last of his clothes off. He climbed on top of Paul, his pupils blown wide, and he kissed kissed him gently at first, but then it became deep and it turned desperate and sensual.

~~~

A few days later, the plane that the Beatles were on touched down in Germany and George breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank god! We survived! Oh my god, we're alive!"

"Calm down, Georgie," Ringo laughed.

After they got off the plane, Paul, John, George, Ringo, and Brian all got their luggage and made their way toward the parking lot to hail and taxi. And there, in the lobby stood a man and a woman holding a sign that read in big, bright red letter; THE BEATLES!!

"Stuart!" John exclaimed, throwing his arms around the man in a friendly bear hug. "Ah, good to see you, mate!"

"And you!" Stuart grinned. "You're looking well, mate!"

"Well, that makes one of us!" John grinned back and the two of them burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. John turned to the blonde woman who stood beside Stuart. "Hello, Astrid. It's good to see you again. How've you been?"

"I've been very good, John," Astrid spoke in her thick German accent.

"George! Ringo!" Stuart said, pulling the two of them into a tight group hug. He let them go and turned to Paul. "C'mere, Paulie!"

"I - I'm good," Paul laughed him off.

Stuart shrugged. "Okay," he stuck out his hand and Paul tentatively shook it.

Barney's words rang through Paul's mind, making him feel uneasy. What if Stuart was planning to kill John? What if that's why he was there, picking them up at the airport?

"Listen, boys, I'm going to go get you checked in at your hotel and meet up with the manager of the club who hired you," Brian said. "The four of you go and enjoy some time with your friends, relax a little bit. You're not going to get much relaxation time in the next couple of weeks."

No, no, no! Paul thought.

"Sounds good, Bri," John clapped him on the shoulder. "See you later."

"See you," Brian waved goodbye to the four band members as they followed Stuart and Astrid out of the airport and to their car, Paul looking over his shoulder nervously.

When they got to Stuart and Astrid's house, they hung up their coats and made for the kitchen. "I marinated the steak overnight so I just need to cook it now." Astrid smiled and moved to the fridge where she got out a bowl filled with steak and marinade.

Paul frowned, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. John opened his mouth to say something but Paul quickly grabbed his wrist and shook his head. "I don't want to be rude," Paul whispered so that only John could hear him. He was terrified that Stuart was planning to assassinate John, but he wasn't about to forget the manners that had been drilled into him my his parents from birth.

"It's fine," John whispered back, then turned to Stuart and Astrid and spoke to them. "Do you have anything that Paul could eat? He's a vegetarian now."

"Why?" Stuart asked. It wasn't mean, it was a genuine question, but Paul was on edge.

Paul narrowed his eyes at Stuart. "I make a point of not eating anything with a face."

"Well, I think that's lovely, Paul." Astrid said, smacking Stuart's arm. "Be nice. Anyroad, we haven't got much of anything vegetarian, but I could make you a salad? And I've made garlic mashed potatoes to go with the steak so you can have some of that, too."

"That would be just perfect, Astrid," Paul smiled. "Thank you."

The four Beatles sat down at the table as Astrid began cooking dinner. "I'll get us all something to drink." He said. "The beer is out in the garage." He left and returned a few minutes later with five bottles of beer which he'd taken the liberty of already opening.

Paul's first instinct was to think that he'd poisoned one of them as he placed a bottle of beer in front of each of them. Time seemed to pass at half speed as John reached for his beer and Paul quickly grabbed it and took a sip.

Everyone at the table stared at him, brows furrowed.

"Oh, sorry, John," Paul said awkwardly. He noted that he was still breathing. Maybe Stuart hadn't been trying to kill John... Or maybe the poison just hadn't taken effect yet!

"It's...okay," John said, shaking his head. He picked up the bottle that Stuart had placed in front of Paul and made to take a sip from it.

What if he knew that I was going to do that? What if he planned in that? What if John is about to drink the real position? What do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I -

Too late. John took a sip of beer.

Paul held his breath for a long time but after a little who,e he figured that John was probably safe and breathed a sigh of relief.

After dinner, Paul, John, George, Ringo, Stuart, and Astrid all moved into the sitting room to chat and catch up. John sat down on the far end of the couch and Stuart made to sit down beside him, but Paul hurriedly plopped down next to John and stared at him with a hard glare.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly, even though Paul was watching Stuart's every move and he was pretty sure that everyone else was beginning to notice.

Before any of them knew it, it was getting late and George said that they should probably get to the hotel before Brian had a heart attack. "Okay, but before you go, can I have a quick word alone with you, - " the gears in Paul's brain were already turning, trying to find an excuse to go with Stuart and John even though Stuart wanted to have a private conversation, but then he finished he sentence with, " - Paul?"

Paul was taken aback to say the least but he nodded, got to his feet and followed Stuart to the kitchen. "Erm, what's up?" Paul said. Barney's warning was still bouncing around in his mind, just as it had been doing all night.

"Listen, Paul, I know that we were never the best of friends," Stuart sighed. "But I felt like we became a little closer before you and John and George and Pete left Hamburg.."

"Yeah," Paul nodded. "Me, too." He suddenly felt kind of guilty for being so cold toward Stuart all night. The last thing he and Stuart had done the first time Paul lived his life was make up right before Paul left the country with John, George, and Pete, and now he'd been a dick to the man all night...

Of course, he was not without reasoning.

"So why do you seem so angry with me?" Stuart crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in question. "And why are you, like, shielding John from me? It's like you think I'm going to kill him or something.."

Paul choked. "Something like that," he murmured. They were both silent for a long time before Paul spoke again. "Look, Stu, I'm really sorry. It's really hard to explain."

"I think I get it," Stuart said.

"Trust me, you really don't." Paul shook his head.

"You know about the Shadows and the F.H.O. too, don't you!" Stuart grinned.

Paul's eyes grew wide. "WHAT?!"