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Rain patters on the windows of EMI. The building is mostly empty, with a few people having gone home.
George thought he was alone in the studio, that all the other Beatles left an hour ago. He was playing a small little ditty at the piano. His fingers glide across the keys as he shuts his eyes to just let himself become emersed in the music.
He was never really a pianist that much, but that doesn't necessarily mean George was bad at playing it. He just stuck with the guitars because that's where he's most comfortable.
Yet, when the tune is really something, like what he's playing now, it's hard to get your hands to stop moving. Your mind is glued to satisfy every dissonance and refrain. Nothing else matters. He tilts his head into the music.
"Wow."
A voice says out of nowhere. It makes George open his eyes wide and turn toward the voice. He sees him - Paul. In all of his Paul-glory. He wears a light colored, striped button-down with a vest over it and jeans that stop at his ankles. The button-down looks a little looser than it was during the session they did earlier that day. He has a black jacket draped over his arm, like he was about to leave the studio before he saw George.
George's playing gradually comes to a hault, with the notes trickling into nothing. "Hey, why'd you stop? It was lovely," Paul said with a small smile. George narrowed his eyes and looked down at the keys. "What're you doing here this late?" He finally says. Paul scoffs and puts his coat on a chair. "I was gonna ask you that... just bored?" He walks over to the piano and leans on the side of it. George looks up at how Paul folds his arms on the piano and nods. "Yeah, I've got nothin' better to do, really. And it's very soothin', y'know? The piano. I wish I knew more 'bout it."
Paul nods and brings his hand up to lean his head onto it. "Yeah, it's beautiful. And what you were playin' sounded good- great, even- Ah!" George's eyes jolt up because, all of a sudden, Paul softly winces in pain. He slowly takes his head out of his hand and grabs his right hand with his left. "You alright?" George says, standing up from the piano bench. Paul lifts his left hand, signaling George to sit down. "I'm okay.. it's just the same thing from earlier. Spasm..." Paul chuckles lightly under his breath as he tries to calm the pain a little.
"Those damned tours busted yer hand, Paul!" George joked, which gets them both to laugh. He was happy that he got Paul to laugh. It's something he hasn't been able to do for a while. With the whole Jesus thing and all of the stress they've been under, they haven't had a moment to just unwind. Chill and joke.
Well, George and Paul, at least. John and Paul seem to be getting on just fine.
"I shall sue!... Who should I sue?" Paul adds. George smiles from laughing and scratches the back of his head. "How about... EMI?- Wait no! The.. the BBC?" Paul covers his mouth and does his little giggle, squinting his eyes and everything. While George waits to hear Paul's next comment, he just looks at him and enjoys watching him smile and laugh. He can even feel his face getting warmer! Wait a min-
"That'll shut 'em up for sure! British Broadcast System sued by Paul McCartney M.B.E." He puts on a posh accent and pretends to pull his suit collar. George chuckles and leans his elbow on the piano. "BB C, dumbass. You said BB S." Paul throws his hands up and rolls his eyes playfully. "Same difference..." He walks over to the bench and gestures George to move over. He sits down and looks at the keys.
"So, what were you playin' before?" Paul asks in a soft tone, different than the playful one he just used. George shifted on the bench and hovers his hands over the keys. He lightly touches them, but not hard enough for a sound to come out. "Nothin', really. Just messin' around." Paul pushes himself forward and lets his fingers fall on the keys. Because he's sitting on the left side of the piano, all the notes that play are low, lower than the ones George was playing moments ago. Paul turns his to face George, and, much to George's surprise, he doesn't say anything. He only nods and continues to play the piano.
He stops, though, when the spasm in his right hand comes back. "Fuck..." Paul breathes out as he takes a deep breath.
The way Paul reacts to the pain while being so close to George makes him feel bad for Paul, truly. . . That being said, it made him feel very warm again. With Paul's curses and breathing literally right on top of him, he gets a load of goosebumps like no other.
George places his hands down on the keys and starts to play the same tune from before. To hopefully take his mind off of whatever the fuck was happening to him. "Do ya... need any help?" George turns to face Paul, still playing the piano but a little softer. Paul bites his lip and just keeps his hand at its current position on the piano. He shakes his head no. George looks down at the injured hand and at his own. He glides his left hand over the keys and gradually gets closer to where Paul's right hand is. "You, uh, sure 'bout that? I can..." George stays looking down as his left hand lifts up from the keys and moves its way over to Paul's hand. He hovers it over Paul's hand before continuing, "...help you."
Paul's eyes widen and he glances down at the hands before going back up to George's eyes. "I mean, you can try, but it won't be anythin' I haven't already tried, yknow?" Paul mumbles, but George gets every word. He meets Paul's gaze and smiles with a nod. "Alright." He slowly brings his hand down to gently touch Paul's, grabbing it lightly to pull it up. He takes it with both hands and checks on Paul for anything - Paul just gives a thumbs up.
He starts pressing his thumbs into Paul's hand, rubbing and caressing where the sprain ought to be. Paul looks down at his hand and raises his eyebrows at how well it had been working. He then looks at George. At his face- his concentrated face. With him practically holding Paul's hand in the dim lighting of the studio, something sparks inside of him. It warms up his face, along with the rest of his upper-body (head and shoulders, mainly). He glances down at George's lips and swiftly back up when he sees George look up.
George, who did see where Paul was looking, just looks back at him. "So, how 'm I doin'?" He slows his thumb movements on the back Paul's hand. Paul makes a small smile and nods. "Great. Yeah.." He whispers, which baffles George because why would Paul need to whisper when they were the only ones there? He turns Paul's hand around so that his palm is facing up to the ceiling. He places a thumb around Paul's wrist and brings his other hand up to hovers it.
"Good..." George took in a breath and decided to be extra bold. He lowered his hand and let his middle finger run down the Paul's palm, starting from the wrist all the way to the inside of his knuckles. "Wouldn't want you going to play bass with a bad hand," he smiles and runs his middle finger over again but slower and harder. Paul quietly gasps at the touch and looks down. He can feel his whole body become flushed as he meets George's gaze again. This time, Paul reaches his other hand over and drops it onto George's. He brushes George's hand with his thumb and smiles.
"No need to worry about me, I have you."
Now. Okay. What Paul originally meant was in terms of bass-playing and the fact that George can step in for him when push comes to shove. But what he and George took from the wording was... something else entirely.
George just raises his eyebrows slightly and searches Paul's face. "Yeah, that's right," George softly whispers.
Paul starts to notice George holding onto him harder and does the same. They both smile at each other, chuckle and look down. With hands still tangled in each other's, Paul is the first that starts to pull away from George's hands. "I should... really, uh. Get goin', ykno-" George pulls Paul's hand up and leaves tiny, gentle kisses on his palm. Paul freezes.
George flutters his eyes shut as he spins Paul's hand around to plant a bunch of kisses on the back of it. Paul's face finally reacts to the touches, exploding into a hot and blushing mess. George's lips move down to Paul's fingers and he holds Paul's hand in a way that lets him peck at his fingertips too.
Paul looks down at him and his lips and can't take it anymore. He pulls his hand away rather quickly and gently grabs George's chin. George tilts his head and drops his mouth in a joking way. "Oh yeah? This why ya stayed late, McCartney?" He mutters a flirtatious tone. Paul giggles and finds his fingers lightly brushing back George's hair. "This why you did, too?" Paul answers before leaning in and meeting George's lips with his own.
And just like that, the rain attacked the windows with heavy drops and thunder rumbled the whole building. Paul and George pull away for a second to look around at the windows. "Is this.. are we running and hiding our heads right now?" Paul joked, looking back at George with a smile. "What, the rain? I don't mind," George mumbles with a smirk before leaning in a second time. This kiss had a lot more passion than the last but also a lot more musical.
Somewhere, you can even hear the "might as well be dead" crowd conversing with the "slip into the shade" people. And, much like Paul and George as of very recent, the weather is fine because of the long-awaited shine. They look at each other and smile. Turning back, they start to play the piano again. A familiar tune...
Can you hear me? That when it rains and shines, it's just a state of mind. Can you hear me? Can you hearrr me?