The White Room - 2/3-5
Title: The White Room – 2/3-5?
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: John and Paul sneak away from an interview and find themselves trapped in a mysterious white room.
Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations, Alcohol
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Beatles, and I definitely don’t claim to. The Beatles would kill me if I actually owned them. So don’t worry, this is all made up, I promise.
A/N; Yes I was listening to Cream when I came up with this title. Oh, and find the David Bowie reference.
“What the fuck are we going to do know?” John asked, pacing desperately around the room.
“I guess we should just sit and wait,” Paul replied, trying to make the best of the situation. He was lying on the soft floor, looking up at John as he spoke to him.
“Stop being so optimistic,” John said, obviously annoyed at the younger lad lying on the floor beside him.
“I’m not being dramatic, I just think you need to calm the fuck down.”
“Oh, okay. Says the one lying on the floor and wasting his time away.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul asked, suddenly sitting up and glaring at John.
John chuckled. “It means you’re a dramatic little whore, Paulie-Paul.”
“Fuck you!” Paul joked, shoving John’s leg.
“No, fuck you.” John sat down beside Paul, letting himself be free and spreading himself across the floor. His head hit the floor harshly as he sat down, but John didn’t mind. Something about being with Paul made his mind hurt less.
“What do you wanna do, Paulie?” John asked after a few minutes of silence had passed.
“I dunno…” Paul replied, closing his eyes and thinking. “We can’t just wait around here forever, right?”
“Well, it’s been a while, we should wait it out, right?”
Paul opened his eyes and looked at John, smiling. “Look at you, being all philosophical.”
“Philosophical? What’s that mean?” John joked in a childlike voice, making Paul laugh and gaze up at the ceiling.
“What do you wanna do?” Paul said, suddenly sitting up.
“I dunno…” John trailed off, but then he seemed like he remembered something and reached in his coat pocket.
“Just remembered I had this,” he said, pulling out a flask of vodka and taking a sip, then handing it to Paul.
“Ta,” Paul thanked John, grabbing the flask and taking a sip as well, passing it back to John.
“Watch out, Paulie, you drink too much of that stuff and you’ll be running around without your shirt on in a few minutes!” John mocked in a girl’s voice, taking another sip from the flask.
“How d’you know I’m not already that rowdy?” Paul mocked back in a girl’s voice, slowly unbuttoning his shirt dramatically and flailing it around his head.
“You know you get me real hot and dirty when you’re like that, Paulie,” John said, sinking his eyebrows in such a sexy manner that Paul felt his stomach go to butterflies. But of course, John was just kidding.
“You want me to put on a show for ya, big boy?” Paul asked, taking a sip from the flask, his shirt still off and thrown across the floor.
“You bet,” John said, sitting back like a pimp, taking a sip from the flask and watching Paul as he stood up.
Paul walked in front of John, doing a mock-stripper dance, bending over and gliding back up, John laughing the entire time. But it wasn’t quite funny when John noticed something growing in his pants, and he fought to cover it up while Paul continued pretending to be a stripper for him.
“Paul, stop,” John said, covering his erection by pulling down his shirt.
“John, I’m only dancing,” Paul sang out in a girly tone, still dancing like a stripper before stopping when he realized John was serious.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, crawling over toward John, who was downing more vodka.
“Nothing, it was just I never knew you were quite that feminine.”
“I am the ‘gay Beatle,’ eh?” Paul laughed.
John let out a weak laugh in return. “With those long lashes and those perfectly plucked eyebrows, how couldn’t ya be?”
“Ey!” Paul defended. “My eyebrows are not plucked.”
“That’s a load of bullshit.”
“No, it’s not! I do not pluck them… these are natural beauties, believe it or not.”
“It’s unnatural for a lad to have lashes so long, and eyebrows so feminine. That’s why the female fans like me better.”
“Now that’s a load of bullshit!”
“Oh, sorry. They like you more because they can relate to you better.”
Paul scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” John cleared his throat. “You’re as queer as a diamond-studded rainbow.”
“You’re kidding me,” Paul laughed. “You were the one who went on that holiday with Eppy…”
John glared at Paul. “Now what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Paul was now sitting directly across from John, only feet between them. “Things… may or may not have happened between you two during that trip,” Paul said, trailing off and smiling to no one. He was quite enjoying himself.
“There is one thing I’m certain of, and that’s that I’m not a bloody poofer.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at him…”
“Of course, Brian, who else? You’re always lookin’ into his eyes and bein’ extra polite to him. It’s adorable, really…”
Oh, shit. “Yes, adorable… as in, your love for him is adorable…” Now that definitely came out wrong.
“Well here, Macca, guess my ‘queer love’ for Eppy isn’t the only queer love we got goin’ on.”
“I’m not queer, John. That just came out wrong.”
“Uh huh, uh huh, alright…” John trailed off, smiling and obviously pleased with himself.
“John, I’m not a poofer, I swear!”
“Stop fuckin’ lying about it!”
“I’m not, I’m really not…”
“Then why are you trying so hard to defend it?”
Paul swallowed his spit. There was an awkward silence between the two of them, but then John spoke in a hushed tone.
“Paul, stop trying to defend yourself. I don’t have anything against queers, I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”
“Yes, but I’m not queer!” Paul shouted back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about or why you keep bringing this up! None of us are queer, okay?”
“Alright, none of us are queer. But liking someone of the same gender does make you slightly queer, Paulie…”
“I don’t like you, John, alright? We’re best mates, come on! Nothing more than friends, honest.”
“I think you’re lying straight through your teeth.”
“Oh, and you’re not queer? I saw the bloody boner you got when I was dancing.”
John’s heart stopped for a moment. “What?”
“Trying to cover it up, real clever. Like we haven’t all done that one before.”
“I was imagining you as a pretty bird, actually-“
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”