(Chapter 1) What makes you queer

George Harrison was sitting on a couch thinking about something he had been noticing since a long time, when suddenly, Ringo appeared, happy as always, exclaiming: “Hey Georgie! C’mon let’s play something! Are you going to spend all the bloody day sitting there? I’m bored, y’know…”

He smiled brightly, “Ringo! I wanted to talk to you…”

“Yeah? Tell me then, mate.”

“Where the hell are Lennon and McCartney?”

He shrugged, “Well, they said they were going to write a song and they needed privacy, so they locked themselves in that room like three hours ago. They asked for no disturbing.”

“See? They’re doing it… Again!”

“That’s right, my friend! They’re writing another song that everyone will love… Again!”

“And you really think that’s the only thing they do when they’re alone?”

“I don’t get your point…”

“Can’t you see? They always lock themselves for hours, they leave the parties earlier together, always ask to be in the same room… And they always say it’s ‘cause they need to compose.”

“Their songs are bloody amazing!”

“Ringo, I’m not talking about the bloody songs!”

“Then what are you talking ‘bout? I’m kinda lost.”

“It’s obvious they have something!”

“Something like what?”

“Oh dear Lord Ringo! Haven’t you noticed all those looks, smirks, giggles…”

“Oh sure, ‘cause they are best mates since they’re little duckies.”

“God Ringo, how can you be so naïve? And what did you mean by ‘little duckies’?”

“Oh you know, ‘cause ducks are so cute, and now I like to refer things using duck terms, and they were young, so that’s why I said they were little duckies!”

“I’m worried about you, Ringo. You have serious problems.”

Ringo giggled cutely, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Ok… As I was saying, I’m sure John and Paul have some secret love.”

“Secret? Oh c’mon George! We all know they love each other since they’re little duckies!”

“I don’t mean it as that kind of love. I’m sure they have some romance. They fuck while they’re alone.”

“Oh please George, just because they’re close doesn’t mean they fuck.”

“Then why I can hear John right now screaming for more?”

The older Beatle shrugged again, trying to come up with something, “More phrases that rhyme for the song, maybe.”

“Oh please shut up, Ringo! You just don’t want to accept it!”

“Well… Since they got in I haven’t heard even one musical instrument playing…”

“You see? Now Paul is doing some strange noises…”

“How is that I didn’t notice before?”

“You’re so clueless, and you don’t pay attention to really obvious things like that…”

“Hmmm… Hey, wanna get out of here? I don’t want to keep hearing whatever’s going on there…”

“You’re right, let’s get out of here… You’re so innocent to be hearing such things.”

They got out for a walk and returned two hours later. As they walked in, they saw the two boys sitting on the same couch where George was before. They were both concentrated in a song they were writing. John had a pen in his hand and was writing down lyrics on a paper, and Paul was strumming his guitar. Then, they both stopped to look at George and Ringo.

Paul greeted, “Oh hi boys, we noticed you left.”

George rolled his eyes, “Yeah… We couldn’t stand hearing you two fucking…”

John and Paul looked each other with a really funny worried face.

“Huh? What are you talking ‘bout, man?” John questioned.

“C’mon you two! Just admit it…” Ringo exclaimed.

“We both know what you really do every time you lock yourselves to compose music.” George affirmed.

“Compose. That’s what we do.” John said. “Do you think some kind of dwarf writes our songs?”

“No. I’m saying that you compose and then you fuck. Or you fuck and then compose.” suggested George.

Paul snapped, “Are you saying we’re queer?”

“I didn’t say that… But now that you mention it…” George pronounced.

Ringo grinned and threatened, “If you don’t admit it, I will hide your facial creams, Paul. And your teddy bear will disappear, John… You know I always win when we play hide-and-seek.”

Paul protested, “What the fuck? You cannot just hide my facial creams! They’re part of my everyday routine!”

“And my teddy bear! Paulie gave it to on my 18th birthday…” John protested.

“Well ok, yes… Compose is not the only thing we do when we’re alone.” Paul admitted.

George smiled. “You fuck.”

John shoot back, “NO! Well, we have tried a little kissing, but that’s all…”

“And you fuck, too.” George insisted.

“OK YES, GEORGE HARRISON, WE FUCK TOO!” Paul expressed.

Ringo was kind of disturbed; he kept switching his eyes from one person to another.

“But that doesn’t mean we’re queer.” John declared.

George laughed. “Ok. That’s all I wanted to hear… But just for you to know… Fucking guys and enjoying it is kind of the concept of being queer…”

“I AM NOT QUEER!...” John stated.  “I also fuck birds.”

“It’s just that John fucks better than birds…” Paul defended.

“Queer!” the youngest Beatle asserted.

The four shared an awkward look. “Well… Ringo and I will let you finish the song alone… We’re out!...”  George grabbed the drummer by his hand and got out the house.

Once they were alone again, John and Paul shared another awkward look. “So… We’re busted…” John chuckled.

Paul giggled. “Were we that noisy?”

John smirked. “It was your fault… But I don’t blame you… I know I excite you, Macca. You just couldn’t resist it.”

The bassist raised an eyebrow. “Me? Only me?”

“You said I fuck you better than birds do.”

“You also say that to me every time we do it, Mr.” The bassist pointed out.

“Nah, you’re just a liar.”

“Liar? Want me to quote everything you say on bed?”

“No Paulie, you don’t have to.”

“All right… So we find more enjoyable doing each other than shagging birds… But that doesn’t make us queer, right?”

John grinned. “Nah. We just like to fuck… Unless you’re in love with me, and that would make you queer, indeed.”

“You’re the one who’s in love with me. You’re the queer.”

“NO! You are the queer.”

“YOU!”

John smiled and glowed. “Then why do you always blush and giggle when I say cute things to you?”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

“C’mon Macca, just admit you’re in love with me! You have already written it on your diary…”

“BLOODY HELL, YOU READ MY DIARY?”

“Yes… And it said big enough with your girly handwriting ‘I am in love with John Lennon’.”

“It didn’t say ‘John Lennon’, it said ‘John WINSTON Lennon’, by the way.

“So, you’re admitting it!”

“I was drunk when I wrote that y’know…”

John smiled. “Oh please Paulie, you’re in love with me. And you’re queer. But that’s ok; I think I’ve got a little crush on you, too.”

Paul smiled in return. “A little crush?”

“All right silly, you drive me crazy, I’m totally in love with you… And I don’t care if that makes me queer.”

“Are you really in love with me, John?”

John held the younger Beatle’s hands and kissed his forehead. “Yes…”

“So… Will you admit it to George and Ringo… And then to everyone else? For me?”

“I would do anything for you, love, and since we’re both in love, I’ll propose you something: let’s go on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. A real date. I will get you flowers and all that stuff. You’ll be surprised.”

They both shared a sweet and long kiss, while John was stroking Paul’s smooth hair. When they separated, John kissed his check and whispered in his ear: “Hey… We should finish our song, y’know…”