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Weed and Kisses
Author: me
Rating: PG
Warnings: Drug use
Summary: John and Paul get stoned together.
Author's Notes: The credit for the inspiration behind this story is a post posted a while ago by I-don't-remember-who-and-I'm-not-in-the-mood-to-look-it-up, but if it's you and you want to post a comment, feel free. Anyways this person posted a thing that was all, 'do you think Paul might ever make the move on John, because most stories have John going first', and I was going to comment, but by the time I got around to it there were like a hundred comments, and I'd either have to read through all of them or be redundant, so I did neither. Instead I got inspired and wrote this.

"What the fuck Paul?" John jumped away from Paul, then quickly backed away until he was standing in the doorway. "What the fuck?"
Paul blinked, confused. He'd done a ridiculous amount of weed, and he wasn't quite sure what John was referring to. He was rather hurt that he'd left. He'd been so temptingly close just a second ago...
"I'm not a fucking queer! You can't just- just..."
Apparently what Paul couldn't do was too terrifying for John to say out loud. "I didn't..." He ran a hand through his hair. He tried to think, which was quite difficult. John had been so close, and Paul had been able to smell his cologne. He'd leaned in closer to be able to smell it better, it and John's wonderful scent...
"You very fucking well did, Paul. You just fucking- you... You fucking queer!"
"I'm not though," he protested. "I just liked your scent."
"What, and you decided to get a fucking taste as well?"
Now Paul remembered, the memory playing as if through a haze, as he'd leaned forward the last few inches to press his lips against John's laughing ones, trying to get as close as possible to John's radiating energy.
"Well, I..."
"Stay the fuck away from me," he growled, turning and leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Paul went to find John once he was completely sober; he didn't want a repeat of the morning. He found him in his room playing guitar. Paul knocked on the open door.
"Can I come in?" he asked.
John looked up at him, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. "Why? So you can kiss me again?"
Paul winced. "Come on, John, I didn't mean it. I was stoned off my ass."
"Seemed like you meant it. Have you been hiding some feelings Paul?" he sneered at him.
Paul sighed. "Really, John, don't be ridiculous. Even if I was queer, I wouldn't go for you."
John's cold stare faltered. "What d'you mean, why not?" He was almost offended.
"Why, did you want me to?" Paul asked carefully.
John scoffed. "No. I'm not a fucking queer."
"Neither am I. Fuck, John, you could've been a goat for all I cared."
"You like the smell of goats?" A grin crept along his face, small and teasing. Paul matched it.
"A well perfumed goat, let's say."
"Oh, I'm sure." After a second John scooted over to make space for him. Paul came over and sat on the bed. "Last time I'm smoking with you, though."
"Sure it is, John," he grinned. "So, what were you working on?"
John showed him, talking him through the chords he'd thought about using. Paul smiled and nodded along, trying not to dwell on the kiss, on the warmth of John's lips, knowing if he let himself think too hard about it, he'd only find himself wanting more.

And my Masterpost, where everything is kept nice and neat and organized, which pleases me in every sense of the word.


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