Title: Now and Then

Author(s): Eucalyyptus (on LiveJournal and Fanfiction)

Pairing: Paul/George/Ringo/John

Rating: PG13 for swearing

Summary: Between two recording sessions, the boys finally got a day off. And they had alcohol with them.

Author Notes: I think I got the idea from a quote of Paul (I'm not so sure eh). I don't quite remember it, sorry. Still, I hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: It's a fiction of course, so it's not real. Nothing happened. And the boys aren't mine, ye know.

John held the bottle in one hand, pointing his finger at Paul with a smirk, quickly saying, "Oh, love, don't be like tha'. A drink is always fine."

The bassist just rolled his eyes at him and took the bottle, taking a long sip before giving it to Ringo, who did the same. George grabbed the bottle and just looked at the alcohol, lost in his thoughts. He slowly drank, letting the liquid warm his throat.

"Hey," Paul said, frowning a little bit. "Do ye remember Hamburg?"

"Yeah. We're not old enough to forget everythin', Paul."John answered, amused.

"D'ye miss it? D'ye want to go back there?"

They all stayed quiet for a few seconds. George drank again and put the bottle down. It stayed on the floor for a small moment before John took it again, his fingers playing with it while he was looking at the dark liquid, hitting the side of the bottle.

"I dunno. It was great," started George, frowning too. "we had fun but..."

"Ye sure did. Yer first time was quite the thing eh?"

"Sod off, Lennon, I'm serious now. Yeah, so, it was fun but... It was... I felt..."

He frowned again, bit his bottom lip, searching for the right word. Ringo slowly nodded.

"I think I kno' what ye mean."

"Rich' is a bloody telepath. What a funny world."

Ringo took the bottle and drank before answering. "Ye felt as if ye were an instrument. Not really... you."

"Y-Yeah. Somethin' like tha'. Bein' the youngest and... well, yeah. "

Paul looked away, feeling pretty guilty. He knew that they weren't really cool with George. He knew how the youngest wanted to sing, to write songs like them. And they weren't reallyt trying to give him a chance. Maybe they should, because he wasn't that bad at songwriting. He wasn't a genius, but he wasn't awful. But songwriting was his thing with John. He couldn't help it. Even if he knew that George hated it.

John unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt and lied down on the cold floor, looking at the ceiling.

"Where are we going, fellas?"

They all smiled when John's voice broke the silence.

"To the top, Johnny!"

"And where's that, fellas?"

"To the toppermost of the poppermost!"

"Right!"

The four lads laughed and, with that said, they spent the next hour drinking and happily sharing some memories.

If someone walked in the bedroom, they knew it would be weird. Four men, sitting on the floor, sharing a bottle of alcohol while laughing to stupid jokes. It wasn't that strange, but they were the Beatles. People excepted them to always be in perfect suits, singing all the time and playing again and again. It wasn't the case. When they weren't working, they weren't working. They were normal people, after all, weren't they?

The night completely fell and the only light was the moon, by the window. George yawned and rested his head on Ringo's shoulder. Paul stood up and lied on the bed, clumsily. They were quiet again.

"Hey. It's been quite a long time since we all slept together."

They all stood up at Paul's voice and John happily jumped on the bed.

"Ye're the little spoon."

"Ugh, ye git."

John laughed, spooning Paul and putting an arm around the man's waist. Ringo quickly went next to Paul, and finally, George lied down too.

"I'm the tallest, why am I the smallest spoon?"

"It's funnier when ye're the little spoon."

Ringo laughed and hugged him. They both were used to this ; when they were sleeping together, they couldn't help but spooning the other. Meanwhile, John and Paul were just... wild kids. They were just lying on the other, trying to take the more space they could on the bed. Spooning was... unusual for them.

"Fuck, John, ye're hot."

"Yeah. Birds are always sayin' tha'."

He laughed while Paul rolled his eyes — and even if none could see him, they all knew he did.

They stayed like that for a long moment, just enjoying it. The bed wasn't that big so, sometimes, Ringo would get closer to Paul because George was almost falling.

Without knowing why, Paul's eyes filled up with tears but he stayed quiet. Too proud to actually admit it. At the exact same moment, John's hand brushed his cheek.

"Ye're cryin'?" He quietly asked, surprising the bassist. He frowned and quickly wiped his tears off.

"How — How d'ye..."

"He's the bloody telepath, actually."

John smiled but kissed Paul's hair. John always knew what was on Paul's mind, and he felt how his own eyes burnt. So, he guessed that Paul felt the same way. And, again, he was right. George turned, and Ringo followed the movement. George's arms were around the drummer as if it was perfectly normal and Paul could only see his dark eyes above Ringo's hair. They probably slept like that a lot of nights together. Ringo looked like a small teddy bear in George's arms.

"I'm not cryin'."

Paul took John's hand and played with his fingers. Ringo's arm went around Paul and they were suddenly all very close. But they didn't mind it.

"Lads? Is it weird if ye're the only people I wanna spend my days with?"

"This sounded..." George started, frowning. "like a proposal."

"Yes, I want to. Can I kiss the bride?"

John tried, his lips forming a kiss while he got closer to Paul's ear.

"Sod off, Lennon."

"I don't think it's weird, Paulie. I love all of ye too." Ringo said with a small smile, and the moon reflected into his wet eyes. Paul hugged him tight.

"I think I'm drunk."

When John talked, his voice broke. Everyone knew it was always happening when he was holding back the tears. Paul turned his head and kissed his cheek.

"It's fine. We all are."

George got closer to Ringo and cleared his throat. "Move. I'm gonna fall."

Again, they all got closer, all their bodies pressed together. Maybe George just needed to felt them against him, hoping that it would help refraining the tears. Paul hid his face in Ringo's hair, who buried his own in Paul's naked chest — he wondered for a second where his shirt went but didn't really care. George stroke Paul's hair with a smile.

"Eh. I wanna be touched too."

"Ye're creepy, John."

"But I'm hot. Right?"

"Yes, you are, Johnny." Quickly said Ringo with a small smile.

He extended his arm, and put it on John's back, squeezing Paul between them, but he didn't mind it.

"Can we stay like this forever?" Paul asked, looking at George. "I like it."

"For one entire night."

George kissed Paul's forehead with a smile, while Ringo groaned between them. They all felt fine, even if they were close and hot. Because it was one of the rare moments when it was just them. Just the four lads. It had been quite a while since they last been alone. And they loved it. If they were famous, it was mainly because they were such good friends.

Tears went down Ringo's cheeks, refleting the moon.

"I love ye." He whispered, but his voice was suppressed by Paul's torso.

"Me too." George answered, with a sleepy yet shaking voice.

And they all began to cry in silence, because they had that kind of relationship ; it was intense and violet, yet so sweet and lovely. They fell asleep like that, crying and sobbing, bodies tangled with the other's. They fought a lot, drank, partied, sang, played, all of that together. But they loved each other. And at the end of the day, it was the only important thing. Love. Nothing else.