Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles.

John sinks into the warm and bubble-filled bathwater, smiling as the water soothes his aching muscles. Leaning back against the white tiled wall, he smiles and closes his eyes. Does anything feel better than a hot bath, he wondered. The lad bends his knees, bringing them nearly to his chest, and inhales the thick and steamy air.

"Coming?" he calls suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the room. Silence is golden, the saying goes, but John wishes for the quiet to stretch no longer past a few seconds.

Footsteps pitter-patter from somewhere down the hallway, soft and light. They stop just outside of the slightly ajar bathroom door as if hesitating to enter.

"I know you're there," John chuckles. His eyes are still shut and his body slowly lets the tension melt away. As he takes a deep breath, he feels even more at ease and content.

Paul pokes his head in, smiles, then quickly enters and closes the door behind him. He fumbles with the lock, his clumsy fingers slipping around the smooth knob. The boy's struggles are pointless though, seeing as nobody was home in the McCartney household but John and Paul and it would remain that way until at least another hour. Paul gives up with the lock a few seconds later, feeling confident nobody would walk in on them.

"Alright there?" John asks with a hint of sarcasm as he sinks lower into the warm water. A few bubbles pop in his ear, which startles him for a moment.

Paul tugs his shirt over his head in one fluid movement. "Never better," he replies once his face is free. Those fine, dark hairs on his arms seem more apparent against Paul's pale skin.

John smirks and nods towards the cooling bathwater. "It's getting cold."

"I suspect it is," Paul agrees while folding his trousers neatly and placing them on the white porcelain sink. He walks over to the bathtub and apprehensively steps one foot into the water. He winces at the temperature and instinctively yanks the toes out.

John cackles and turns the water on, letting a bit of cooler water leak into the bath. He had forgotten that Paul was more sensitive to hot water than he was. "Wimp," he coughs into his elbow.

Paul splashes John lightly and triumphantly grins as he drops into the bath. A wave of soapy water hits John in the face, some of the bubbles temporarily stinging his eyes. Paul slides down so his knees are bent and propped up against John's with his back leaning against the smooth bathtub tile. The metal faucet threatens to bang him in the head if he's not careful while the drain presses into his rear, which then forces him to sit at an awkward angle.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" John says, eyes closed and a smile on his face. "The warm water and all."

"Heavenly," Paul replies sarcastically. After a minute or two, it becomes downright unbearable and Paul pushes himself up to a seated position. He stands, water droplets falling from his moist skin like rain.

John raises an eyebrow. "What?" he asks at the sight of Paul's pout. "Too hot?"

"No," Paul snaps. He pushes John's knee apart, or at least tries to. John buckles his knees tighter and looks suspiciously at his boyfriend.

"Can I help you with something?"

Paul nods and motions towards John's closed thighs. "Open? Please? So I can sit in your lap?"

John smirks, hesitates a moment, and complies with Paul's request. "You better not be trying to seduce me, 'cause it's not going to work," he warns.

Paul settles in between John's legs, his back resting against the boy's chest. "You know I am," he says bluntly.

"Well, you're not getting anything from me," John chuckles as he plants a quick kiss on the top of Paul's head. Secretly, he hopes for a bit of playtime, not that he would admit it out loud.

"I know," Paul says.

He leans back and John molds his body to fit the boy's like a glove. The slightly cooler water laps at his bare skin and the bubbles continue to pop quietly. A faint smell of lavender and Paul's cologne is in the air, a delightful scent for John. He sighs in pure content.

Breaking the soothing and peaceful silence, John whispers, "I love you."

Paul turns, causing some of the water to slosh to the already damp floor. He kneels on his knees, then presses his forehead to John's. "I love you more," he says in an equally hushed tone. "Don't you dare deny it."

"Oh, but I must disagree," John argues. He brushes Paul's dark bangs away from his eyes, then loops his arms around the younger boy's waist. "I love you more than you love me, which isn't saying a lot."

"Fuck you," Paul mumbles against John's lips, his eyelashes tangling with his boyfriend's. "Oh, whoops. I've already done that."

John playfully shoves Paul in the shoulder, laughing quietly. "Yes, I believe you have, and I you."

Paul leans across the small gap and touches his mouth to John's in a soft kiss. He wraps his arms around the older lad's neck to pull him closer. John responds eagerly by lifting Paul onto his lap, tucking the boy's legs behind his back as the kiss deepened. The feeling of Paul's plush and warm lips is enough to make John go crazy with lust. He tilts his head slightly to allow for his tongue to slip into the other's mouth, which he explored eagerly once access was granted.

John breaks contact with Paul's mouth and begins an assault on the delicate skin of the boy's neck, leaving a trail of feathery kisses in his path. He bites down on a path at the base of Paul's neck, which elicits a deep moan in reward. Paul brings John's hand to his mouth and starts to suck on his wrinkled and waterlogged middle finger. The bathwater has turned cold, but neither boy minds for they are thinking of other things at the moment.

"John," Paul groans, his eyes loosely closed as he drops John's hand in order to tangle his fingers in John's auburn hair. "I fucking love you."

John stops his nibbling on Paul's collarbone to catch his eye. He cups the boy's face in his hands and kisses him hard and passionately. "I lo-"

The door creaks open, the high pitched squeak ear-piercing. Mike stands in the doorway, mouth agape and eyes round as saucers. Paul jumps off of John's lap even though the damage had already been done.

"Mike," Paul slowly says, grabbing for a towel to hide himself with. "It's not what you think. I promise."

John cowers in the soapy water, not sure whether to speak up or not. He brings his knees to his chest to conceal himself from the much younger boy. Mike glances from Paul to John then back again. He quickly turns and runs from the bathroom. Seconds later his bedroom door slams shut.

"Shit," Paul curses as he hurriedly dries himself. He tosses a towel to John, who is trying to clean up their mess with the bathwater. "I was so sure that they wouldn't be home-"

"Just be glad it wasn't your dad," John points out, trying to be optimistic. "It could be much worse."

Paul pulls the drain from the bottom of the tub then begins to button up his shirt. "True, but what are we going to do about Mike? He'll tell dad…"

John shrugs. He ponders this for a minute, then smiles. "We could pay him off," he suggests.

"In what? We're both broke," Paul asks. Both boys spent the majority of their low-income on records or guitar strings, so that left very little for emergency situations.

"In sexual favors," John smoothly says, wiggling his eyebrows while tugging on his trousers.

Paul crinkles his nose in disgust. "No, no, no. First off, I'm his brother. Secondly, I don't want you to scar my brother for life. And thirdly-"

"Yes?"

Paul grins devilishly and steps forward. Thinking it's some kind of secret, John comes closer too. Paul leans in close to John, so close that John can feel his breath on his flushed skin. "I don't like to share," Paul whispers seductively, grabbing John's groin tightly for a second before exiting the steamy bathroom.

John sits on the counter. He runs a hand through his hair and grumbles, "We're really in some hot water now.."