John didn't think he was in the wrong at all, honestly. But to be fair, he never did when someone was upset with him, and he was even more defensive when that someone was Paul, the cute boy that went to the Inny next to his school.

They'd been seeing each other in private for quite some time, meeting behind the art college for a quick snog, walking to the golf course together to talk and such. John couldn't remember a time when he didn't have McCartney as his dirty little secret, when there wasn't 2 a.m. knocks on the window of his and Stuart's apartment and heated little moments until daybreak, and then the school day would begin soon and they'd part with chaste kisses on cheeks.

Stuart was the only person in the world John could trust with his secret, he was his best mate after all. So maybe that's why John thought Stu's latest art project was a safe idea. They were close friends, what difference would it make if he had John as his muse for his painting?

Sure, he might have had to shed his clothes and pose in a slightly suggestive way, leaned against the wall, hands behind his back and his face to the side, perfect jawline on show. It was for the art, nothing more.

The minutes ticked by in slow motion once Stuart had finished adjusting his body, and he soon became tired and his muscles stiff and cramping, not to mention the soreness of his neck. John was never very patient and this might as well have been his own personal hell.

He heard swift brush strokes against canvas and took slow, deep breaths to keep his composure, knowing it couldn't be much longer.

"It's coming along nicely now. I think I made your cock a bit too large though, don't want t' be unrealistic, y'know." Stuart laughed, trying to ease the tension a bit.

"Hysterical, Stu. You should drop out of school and be a comedian." John deadpanned, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling.

"How much fuckin' longer do I have t-"

His irritated question was stopped midway by a knock on the door, and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop the curses that threatened to fall from his lips. He just wanted to move. As if he had read his mind, Stuart sent him a warning glance.

"I'll get the door, move and you're dead."

The threat went right over the auburn man's head though, and as soon as no eyes were on him he sighed, stretching languidly and hearing his back pop in a quite unattractive way. It was bliss.

"It's your lil' Prince Charming, I'm letting him in!" Stu yelled from the front room.

"Then I'm getting dressed!" John replied, already moving to find a clean pair of trousers.

"No, you can't! We're almost done, it's not like he's not seen it all before!"

"Fuck you." John muttered under his breath, carding a hand through his hair in a nervous way, tousling it up unknowingly.

He didn't realize the messy hair and lack of clothes would look as bad as it did, to someone unaware of the situation. He was just fucking tired and wanted to sleep.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and suddenly the two of them were in the bedroom doorframe, Stuart coming in first and resuming his place, ready to continue painting. He said nothing of the fact that John wasn't posing still, only prepared his brush for the next color he would use.

Paul didn't budge from the door, but stared in with raised eyebrows and parted lips. Eventually he spoke, ignoring the blush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

"Any particular reason for the nakedness?" He asked, taking a timid step into the room.

John snickered at the red tint to his cheeks, but didn't offer any sort of answer.

"He's my muse for today, is all. Only one queer enough to be willing, probably." Stuart joked, but quickly saw he was the only one to see the humor. Oh well.

"You're the one havin' to stare at my body, that's hardly heterosexual."

"Shut it, you."

Paul didn't stick around very long after that, murmuring a quiet goodbye after some shitty excuse about studying.

-

The next day was a slow one, with boring classes and lectures and nothing to keep Paul's mind off of the night before. He felt threatened, as silly as it sounded, by Stuart and his talk of bloody 'muses' and whatever the hell he had been saying.

It was no secret that John was attractive, anyone could see it, and he had no way of knowing just how platonic their relationship was. They lived together, had classes together, and apparently were comfortable enough with each other to walk around stark naked like it was no big deal. They could be fucking for all Paul knew.

Feeling uncharacteristically insecure and unworthy, he met up with John at lunch to talk. (Their schoolyards were separated with a fence, but they always could meet up out back if they needed.) So, he brushed off Ivan and George as they approached, sending an apologetic smile their way, and walked briskly to the fence. He could already see the brownish-reddish quiff of hair on the other side, and tensed up upon noticing the shorter, dark haired boy that he held conversation with. He didn't need to see Stuart right now, of all people.

"John, can we go to the golf course? School is fuckin' suffocating me." He rested his forehead against the chain link barrier that forced their school years apart, eyes wide and pleading.

He knew how to use his innocent looks to advantage, and did so often.

"Yeah, love. I'll be there in a second."

"Don't take too long." He said sweetly, resisting the urge to do something completely couple-y, like blowing a kiss or something. That would get him beat to a pulp most likely.

"Alright, love birds, you'll be reunited soon enough." Stuart snorted quietly, shaking his head.

-

When the two of them ended up on that golf course about half a mile away from their schools, it was always hard to get a word in. The place was pretty much deserted, for reasons unknown to them, and it was the most liberating feeling to be in that big open field without a soul around.

As usual, they ended up on the grass, giggling in between sloppy kisses and nibbling on lips and it all nearly made Paul forget about the problems plaguing his mind. It was hardly his fault, though, anyone would become a bit ditzy if they had John Lennon's tongue in their mouth, his leg between their thighs, rubbing teasingly.

It takes a damn lot of willpower to get out of a situation like that.

"John, John, baby... I wanted to talk to you.." He mumbled, turning his head away from the fervent kiss.

That only led to the thin lips being pressed against his neck instead, one of his biggest weaknesses.

"Talk later... I miss you.."

"Stop, okay? I want to talk about Stuart."

That seemed to work.

John sat up and cleared his throat quietly, wiping absently at the grass stain that was now on his trousers. Paul sighed in relief and looked upwards, at the gray clouds and dreary sky.

"Okay. Talk." John nudged his knee lightly, unsure of where this would go.

"Are you.. attracted to him?" Paul bit on his lower lip, not meeting the elder's eyes, afraid of the answer.

He tore strands of grass up from the ground below him, letting them fall back down as he uncurled his fingers; repeating the movements until there was two similar brown patches of dirt on either side of him. It was taking far too long for John to speak.

"Not in th' way I'm attracted to you. I know he's handsome, but he doesn't make me want to like, screw him against a wall or anything."

"Has he ever tried anything with you? I mean, he obviously had an easier time getting you naked than I did."

Again, Paul's face was taken over by a blush from his own words, too prudish for his own good. He closed his eyes and reclined back until he was lying in the grass with his arms crossed under his head, slightly embarrassed.

"We're only friends, doll."

"I don't like it though, that he saw you that way. You're mine."

John swallowed dryly at Paul's words, not knowing what to say to that.

'Mine'.

Neither of them had ever been so sure of their relationship like that before. They weren't boyfriends, weren't tied down; it was supposed to be a no strings attached sort of deal. That had never been the actual case, considering they haven't had any other partners since that first kiss, but they weren't dating. It was only fooling around.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Paul whispered, covering his face with his hands.

"No, it's fine. I think I'd like to be yours."

"No more posing for Stuart, then?"

"I'll be more modest next time."

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lmao idk what im doing anymore

probably going on a semi-hiatus love y'all