Just a little fic about John and Paul that's all. No slash. Just brotherly love.
As he sketched a ribbon around the bear’s neck for the finishing touch, he felt a limp hand brush his right shoulder. Gazing from the floor, he noticed Paul sleeping belly-down on the couch. Paul’s fingers lightly tapped the edge of the cushion as his head simultaneously bobbed up and down to the song he faintly mumbled. Probably dreaming of another concert, John thought returning his attention to his notebook.
The two of them had been writing songs and playing with Julian all day and, clearly, Paul had taken the liberty to drift off into dreamland while John tucked his son in for an afternoon nap. John stopped doodling when Paul’s hand continued brushing against him. “Stop it you sod,” he chuckled shoving it away. “What, do you want to be next?” Paul’s hand stopped moving as if it heard him. “Alright. But ye gotta hold still for a moment,” he said turning to face his sleeping mate.
It took him less than fifteen minutes and a few pauses to push his glasses up his nose, but once he finished, John could not help but smile at his work. Even if it was just another one of his childish cartoons, it was still Paul, his best mate. Everything about this man gave him warm, fuzzy feelings inside no one else could give him. He had close relationships with George, Ringo, Brian, and his family, but none of them seemed to compare to his with Paul. Whether they were working hard in the studio or enjoying each other’s company at home, John felt the most content when they were together. He let his glasses slide down his nose again as he continued thinking about all the laughter, the tears, the secrets, the looks, and the moments they shared over the years. They were all beautiful in John’s mind. Memories like those last a lifetime, he thought.
Suddenly, a calloused finger hovered in his direction and pushed his glasses back into place. He might have jumped had he not known it was Paul’s. He looked at his younger mate and smiled.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” he said. Paul smiled back starry-eyed from his slumbers and lifted his head.
“Sorry. Must have drifted off when you were tucking in Jules. Whatcha got there? Another song?” he asked.
“No. Just some more drawings.”
“Oh. Can I see them?”
John handed the flimsy notebook to Paul as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. The younger man’s grin widened from each turn of the page.
“What’s this one?” he asked pointing to the politician.
“Oh, that’s Cynthia’s mum,” John replied getting up. Both snickered at John’s joke.
“I love this one of Julian’s teddy bear,” Paul said shifting his body so John could sit next to him.
“Me too. The ribbon was an added bonus y’know.”
Paul flipped to the page of him sleeping and giggled.
“I don’t look like that when I sleep, do I?” he asked.
“Of course you do, son,” John replied.
“No I don’t.”
“Yeah. I’ve roomed with you hundreds of times to know what you look like in yer kip, haven’t I?”
“Wait, you watch me sleep?”
“What? Oh, c’mon. Not like that…”
“I knew it! I knew you watch me sleep, you poof,” Paul chuckled poking John’s arm.
“Don't call me a poof, you wanker!” John said poking Paul back in the ribs.
“Poof poof poof!” Paul teased whacking John’s head with the notebook.
They continued poking and hitting each other with the notebook until they fell off the couch laughing uncontrollably side by side. Once their giggle fits died down, Paul brought the notebook to his face.
“It really is a nice drawing, John,” he commented handing it to its rightful owner.