When John and Paul's nightly phone conversations die down, Paul gets upset (no slash, but the "L" word is mentioned between the two for those who don't approve of men saying it).
Talk like this kept them up past midnight multiple times and eventually made them late for work because they were so tired from staying up all night. They didn't mind being the last two to walk in together, until George Martin, their producer, interfered complaining they should not be tardy for recording sessions even if the deadline was months away. To make up for the lost time, they decided to get together on the weekends instead of almost every day of the week. Talking on weekends made it easier for them to arrive at work on time, but it did not quite feel the same saving everything for Friday and Saturday nights. Not to mention their manager, Brian Epstein, was quite fond of hosting Friday night parties at his flat. And, if they weren't attending one of those, he'd set them up for parties somewhere local just to stay social. Eventually, they became so caught up in work and weekend parties that they only got together once every other weekend, if not once a month. This hurt Paul especially since he enjoyed spending time alone with John any chance they got, but he knew they had to focus on work, too, what with The Beatles becoming more and more famous by the single. He thought about sending letters to John, but he felt like they were too romantic and not as personal as talking face to face. Phone calls were not as wonderful as sitting next to each other, but they were the most direct and efficient way to keep in touch when they couldn't be with each other physically. They also kept John away from having to deal with extra housework or his wife Cynthia's naggings which he did not miss one bit. Slowly, these phone calls, too, died the busier they got.
In celebration of their latest LP's big success, Martin sent everyone home on a week-long break. Cynthia took advantage of the opportunity and planned a surprise getaway to the beach with just John. Paul agreed to staying at their house and babysitting their son, Julian, knowing he would have a splendid time with his adopted nephew and the couple would enjoy this much needed holiday (well, Cynthia would mostly).
"Behave yourselves kiddies!" John called from the car after Paul arrived at the Lennon house.
"We will. Jules, say good bye to mummy and daddy. 'Byebye mummy! Bye daddy!'" Paul called back waving Julian's tiny arm. "Call me when you're on your way home?"
"Will do, Macca," John responded winking at his mate. Then, he and his wife were on the road. Paul stood outside with Julian until the car had disappeared.
"Well, let's get in the house Jules. It's just going to be you and your old uncle Paulie for an entire week."
Staying at John's house with Julain made Paul feel less lonely, but it wasn't the same as staying with John. For one thing, John could eat without the aid of an adult and did not spit up his greens at the dinner table. Second of all, John did not snore half as loudly as Julian cried at night for a warm bottle of milk. And, unlike Julian, John was someone Paul could talk to about anything. The only things Paul told Julian that he could somewhat understand were related to napping, eating, playing, and pooping. At least, that's what he thought. It also didn't help that his girlfriend, Jane Asher, was gone on another trip to New York to film her upcoming motion picture.
"He's such a sweet kid," he told her on the phone one night, "and he looks so much like his father."
"But he's not John, I know," Jane sighed. "Dear, if you miss him that badly, why don't you call him? You call me every time you miss me when we're away. Plus, you have the number to his hotel. All it takes is a quick dial."
"'m not sure, Jane. I mean, I don't want to interfere with his alone time with Cyn, and I don't want them to think I'm calling for an emergency, y'know."
"Well, you'll never know unless you do it."
"I s'pose you're right, luv."
"Of course I am. Now, I've got to go, dear. We're filming tomorrow morning, but I'll call you as soon as I get on my lunch break to see how you two are doing."
"Alright. Good night Jane."
"Good night Paul."
By the fifth night, neither mates had called. Drowsy from taking care of Julian all day, Paul scooted his way over to the sofa with the baby in his arms. "There must be something good on tonight," he said as he turned on the tellie and lied down. By this time, Julian was sound asleep and could have easily gone to his crib had Paul not felt loving enough to let him sleep on his stomach. Unfortunately, his stomach couldn't take having a younger fellow lying on top of him for very long, so he carefully stood back up and placed the baby in his crib. Upon returning to the living room, the phone rang. "Huh, who could be calling this late at night?" he pondered turning off the tellie and heading for the phone. He sat down on the sofa and answered, "Lennon residents."
"Paul?" a familiar voice whispered.
"Yes, this is he. Might I ask who is calling?"
"It's me, Paulie. John."
"Oh! Hi John! How's the holiday with Cyn?"
"It's alright," John responded sounding partially exhausted. "She's asleep right now in the other room. How's the baby?"
"Aw he's great. He's asleep, too. Just put 'im down in his crib before you called."
"Yeah." There was a small pause. It had been a while since they last talked on the phone not including the day John asked Paul to stay at their house.
"So, how's the beach?" Paul started.
"Oh, it's great. Just great. Sunnier than Liverpool, that's a fact." John chuckled.
"Yeah really. So, um, how's the weather at home?"
"Eh, it's alright. Rainy as usual."
"You don't say?"
"Yeah. I think you should come home before it starts missing you. Who knows? It could flood."
"Haha! Nice try, Macca," he paused again. "Actually, I wouldn't mind coming home early now that you mention it."
"Feeling homesick?" Paul asked confused.
"For Liverpool? Psh, even I don't feel the slightest homesick when we're on tour overseas," he joked.
"More for the people than the place actually."
"Oh. I see."
"Well, at least you've got Cynthia with you. You're not completely alone."
"That's true, but...it's not the same as, y'know, having you here. She can't fill in your place, Paulie."
After listening to John's comment, Paul's heart sank, deeply. John called because he just wanted to talk to Paul. After all these weeks without talking on the phone or just hanging out, he began to realize John missed him as much as he missed John. Tears welded in his eyes as he looked down at his feet.
"Paul? Are you still there?"
"I am, Johnny. I am. Truth is, well, I miss you, too, mate. I miss being able to talk to you every day after work eight days a week." John chuckled on the other line.
"It's good to hear your lyrical sense of humour again, Macca."
"Yeah. Well, it's great to hear you laugh again, Johnny," he smiled.
For the next few hours, the two best mates talked about their breaks. John told Paul about the sights he and Cynthia saw and the people they met, including their good friend, Keith Richards from the Rolling Stones. Paul giggled as he told John all the silly faces Julian made every time he tried feeding him peas and spinach.
"He gets so damn stubborn when he sees the greens, but opens his mouth wide when I bring out apples and bananas. Like father, like son if you'd ask me."
"Oh, sod off, McCartney. I'm not that stubborn."
"Well, I'd beg to differ."
"Okay, Mister Know-It-All. Name one time when-" John was cut off by a soft voice in the background. "Yes? What? Oh. Okay, luv. Alright, I'll tell 'im. Paul?"
"The wife says we'll have to continue our discussion another time thanks to her said inability to sleep through phone conversations."
"Oh, that's fine."
"Okay. So, shall I hear from you before we leave then?"
"Oh, yes! Absolutely."
"Good. Because you know how much I miss hearing my dear, sweet Paulie's voice as much as he misses his daft, old mate jabber up a bloody storm about nothing in particular."
Paul's eyes closed and grin widened when he responded, "Oh! Johnny. You might be older than me, but you've never been daft in my eyes."
"Oh! Paulie. Yer the only bloke I know who knows how to make a man blush over the phone."
"'F course I can. I'm Paul McCharmly, am I not?" The two mates giggled hysterically. There was a slight pause until John spoke.
"Well, it was great hearing from ye, Macca."
"Same here, Johnny. Tell Cyn I said, 'Good night' for me, will ye?"
"Of course. She would appreciate it greatly."
"Well, Macca, I bid thee adieu until the next time I hear from you."
"And, don't forget to call the minute you leave the hotel."
"Yes, luv. Will do, luv. Anything else I can do for ye, luv?"
"Besides stop calling me luv?"
"Anything but that, luv."
"Just enjoy the rest of your holiday with Cyn."
"Alright, Lennon. Have it your way, then," Paul scoffed.
"If you'd really like to know how I'd have it my way, I"d have ye-" John was interrupted by Cynthia once again. "I'd have to tell ye some other time."
"Yeah. Well, I suppose this is good night, then."
"Okay. Good night, Johnny."
"Good night. Oh, wait! By the way, Paul."
John paused and whispered as if keeping a secret from Cynthia, "I love you, mate."
"I love you, too," Paul whispered back blushing with an enormous smile planted on his face.
"Thanks, Macca. Good night."
"Good night, John." Then, they hung up.
That night, Paul went to bed with happy memories of him and John in his head. Their phone conversation might have been shorter than normal, but it enlightened Paul to know that John was thinking of him, too. As he climbed into bed, he felt a familiar, warm feeling he had after they would converse like they previously did. This made him anticipate the moment when he would get to see his best mate face to face even more. "Maybe I'll stay here an extra night. Y'know, in case they need someone to watch Julian while they unpack," he said turning out the light. Even if the couple wouldn't let him spend the night, he figured John would still enjoy his company for the next evening.