Pairing: John/Paul (mostly undertones)
Rating: PG for drinking
Disclaimer: This never happened.
Notes: Written for both contrelamontre's flash foward challenge and beatlesslash's fabble prompt about birthdays. Crossposted to contrelamontre. This is my first fic. *nervously waves*
Paul McCartney fell flat on his face. He was mostly too drunk to notice, but the pain still registered in his brain. Part of his brain found this hysterical. Here he was, one of the clean cut Beatles (compared to the Stones anyway) pissed out of his mind on his twenty-first birthday. He started giggling uncontrollably.
Paul turned 61 forty years later. He sat down with his wife and kids to eat a warm family meal that day. It was vegetarian, obviously. This was the best birthday he’d had in a while.
John Lennon picked him up off the floor.
"Come on mate, time to go home"
Paul decided John was cute when he was watching out for somebody. That was usually Paul’s job.
"Don’t make me drag you"
Forty years later Paul was too busy to be drinking. Besides it was bad for his health. And he didn’t want of his children doing any of that sort of thing. He smiled. Another year another birthday. He wondered if he would be 64 before or during the next tour. The irony was too good to pass up…
Paul almost fell asleep as soon as the pillow hit his face, but John shook him and pulled him out of it.
“Come on, birthday boy. I haven’t given you a present yet.”
“Will you still need me? Will you feed me? When I’m 64?” Paul sang drunkenly.
“Oh, hell” John said and decided to give Paul the present tomorrow.