#lennison (fucking shit up)
Note
Can I get lennison? They got super drunk last night and and they woke up together the next day naked and they try to find out what happened last night. George laughs it off while John freaks out
(oh yeah and Geogre has a big love bite on his neck)
I’m so so sorry for the delay, but here you go! <3
AO3 Link (Rating: T, implied sexual content)
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John’s head felt like it was going to kill him. How much did he drink last night? He groaned and rolled over to smother himself with a pillow—but he bumped into someone’s bony elbow.
Fuck.
He carefully scooted away. Hopefully he hadn’t woken the person he’d spent the night with and could still sneak out before they noticed. But unfortunately, he heard a grunt as the person shifted beside him—and he was face to face with George Harrison.
Naked George Harrison.
“John?”
“…Fucking god damn motherfucking shit.”
George winced. “Keep it down, will ya? My head fuckin’ hurts.”
John’s brain fucking hurt. “Why’re we—how did—what did—”
“Did we fuck last night?” George said it so plainly that John shut right up, stunned. “That’s what you’re tryin’ to ask, right?”
“Well, did we? Why the hell are you naked?”
Of all things, George grinned. He grinned. “Hey—you’re naked, too. Don’t blame this all on me. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one in my hotel room,” George said, poking John square in the chest. “Looks like you’re the one who has some explaining to do.”
John sat up and rubbed his head. It was George’s room. And he still didn’t remember a thing…and his arse definitely hurt, and that dark bruise on George’s neck was unmistakable. “Oh my god,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.
A warm hand pressed against his thigh. “John, are you alright?”
John’s fists clenched. “No, I’m not alright! How are you so calm about accidentally fuckin’ your mate?”
Sighing, George sat up beside him, and John tried not to look at the nice way the muscles in his chest shifted each time he moved. “If I’m gonna be accidentally fucking anyone,” George said, “I’d much rather it be a mate than some random person off the street who means nothing to me. At least this way I know I was in good hands.”
As his cheeks heated up, John looked away from where George’s hand still rested on his leg. “So, you don’t regret…whatever it is we did last night?”
“No.” George pulled his hand back and tugged his knees to his chest. Quietly, he added, “If anything, I regret being too drunk to remember it.”
“…Oh.” John stared dumbly at George. Lovely, beautiful George who was now shrinking by the second, curling up on himself tighter and tighter. “Do you…” John paused to clear his throat. “Do you want to do it again?”
George squeezed his eyes shut. “Not if you’re just offering out of guilt.”
It wasn’t guilt. John didn’t quite know what it was that drew him closer to George, but he knew it wasn’t guilt. Maybe it was the warmth of George’s skin when John wrapped his arms around him to break him out of his shell before it sealed shut. Maybe it was the softness of George’s lips as John kissed him—soberly this time—and felt George gasp against his mouth.
Or maybe it was the overwhelming familiarity as George returned his embrace. The scent of his hair, the soft timbre of his voice as he let out relieved laugh, the curve of his neck where John’s face fit perfectly. But whatever it was that led him into George’s arms, John knew that he didn’t want to leave.
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