A/N: Alright! I give you chapter number one of my latest fic! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles.
Sloane hesitated slightly before taking a picture of the man she so hated. She watched as John Lennon bounced about the stage as he did every other night. Being the Beatles press photographer was easy; putting up with their fans wasn't. Her eyes scanned the stage slightly from her front row seat to find a man she had grown to admire, maybe even love. She readied her camera as the hysteric teenage girls around her continued to scream. She silently cursed under her breath as her long red curls fell into the lens, obstructing the shot. She could still make out the blurred figure of Paul McCartney.
"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you. Tomorrow I'll miss you." He sang.
She smiled bashfully as she pretended he was singing to her.
"Who's your favorite Beatle miss?" asked a small girl, no older than the age of 6, over the screaming crowd.
Taken aback, Sloane tucked the mess of curls behind her ear. "Stu Sutcliffe."
"Who?" asked the little girl confused.
Sloane laughed at her own Joke and bent down to the child's level. "He's my favorite." She said, pointing to the man singing. She acknowledged that the little girl had been the only one she'd ever told that to.
"Mine too!" The girl squeaked. "I've got all his magazines!"
"Do you?" spoke Sloane softly, amused.
The girl nodded her head vigorously, clapping her hands (not quite) to the beat of the music.
"Where's your mummy, sweetheart?"
"And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day and I'll send all my loving to you." Paul chirped.
"I don't know" spoke the girl guiltily, not looking the older woman in the eye.
Sloane's heart skipped a beat. "Where was the last place you saw her, darling?" she said, trying not to sound panicked.
"Over there."
"What does she look like?" Sloane asked, taking hold of the girl's hand and leading her over to the spot she indicated.
"She has…" the girl was interrupted by a shriek that came from behind the two.
"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO TAKE OFF WITH MY BABY?" The woman screamed.
"Ma'am, I was only trying to…" Sloane started. A dreadful feeling began to consume her throat.
"I know exactly what you were trying to do." She hissed. "Come on, Julia."
She dragged her daughter away by the hand through the mass of people. Julia waved back sadly at Sloane from her mother's grasp.
The red- head returned her attention back to Paul, her heart still racing from the previous events. However, the song had ended and it was now John's turn to serenade his screaming fan base. As George plucked out the tune for "I should Have Known Better", Sloane made her way through the crowd, searching for an escape.
Three Months Earlier…
"Coffee, boys?" Sloane asked politely from across the kitchen table.
"No, but tea would be fab, dear." Paul McCartney answered.
George merely grunted, too immersed in his guitar playing to say anything. Ringo turned his innocent blue eyes up from the paper he was reading to politely decline.
Most surprisingly however, John looked towards Paul, a disgusted look on his face and threw what he had been reading at him.
"Oye Lennon! What was that for?"
"You've got two feet! Get up and make your own tea!"
"She offered! And besides, it's the least she can do! I don't see her paying rent."
"Paying rent?" John exploded. "She's not paying rent because I've invited her to stay with us! You never seemed to have a problem with that before, MacCa!"
"John…" began Sloane.
"I've got this, Sloane."
"Why are you suddenly protecting her, Lennon?" erupted Paul, his anger growing to match John's.
"I've got a right to protect me best friend, McCartney!"
"John…really…" Sloane tried.
"I've got this!" he said, a little harsher this time. "Paul needs to know that he can't just run around here acting like he owns everything!"
"John, stop it!" she spat. "I'm tired of you two constantly fighting! Besides, we aren't in Liverpool anymore! I don't need you to protect me!"
John looked at her, surprised by her sudden outburst. He didn't understand why he felt so hurt. "You're right." He spoke barely above a whisper. "You don't need my protection…"
Sloane had regretted what she said as soon as it left her lips. John had done so much for her; given her a job as The Beatles press photographer (which she absolutely adored) and even given her a place to live! And how did she repay him? By hurting him.
"John…" she started.
"I've got to go to the studio. I'll be back later." He said grabbing his jacket.
"Yeah, run away, Lennon. That's what you do best."
"Shove off, McCartney!" he hissed as he retreated out the door.
"What the heck was that, Paul?" Sloane asked, her voice venomous.
Embarrassed, Paul looked down at his hands and asked. "I don't suppose you've still got that tea?"
Anger flowing through her, Sloane marched to her room, her curls flying behind her. She took out a small piece of paper from the top drawer in her dresser and scribbled something onto it furiously. She then walked back to the kitchen, stood directly in front of Paul, and slapped the piece of paper onto the table in front of him.
"What's this?"
"A check."
"For what?"
"Rent."
"Oh, Sloane! I don't want this." Paul said shamefully.
"Then you shouldn't have asked for it." She said, grabbing her jacket in the same fashion John did.
"Where are you going?"
"To find John."
"John?" the girl called through the abandoned Parlaphone studio. "John!" She sighed. "Look, if you're here…I…I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said those things. You know how Paul can be. I would never mean to hurt you. You're my best friend." She finished with a whisper.
Sloane opened the door to the studio a little wider. It was an odd place without the boys there and she felt slightly lost without a camera hanging around her neck. Suddenly, she heard the rhythmic strumming to a guitar she could only assume was John's. She inched her way into the studio.
"John?"
More strumming…
She didn't recognize the song.
Sloane sighed with relief upon seeing the rhythm guitarist sitting cross- legged on the floor of the studio.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Writing." He answered simply.
She didn't want to disturb him, she knew he was a very private person at times, but she couldn't resist. "Could I hear it?"
He looked up at her, surprised. It was as if he had just now noticed she was in the studio. "Do you really want to hear it?" he whispered.
She simply nodded her head.
"It's only the acoustic version." He said, refusing to break eye contact with her.
She waited patiently.
"I should have known better with a girl like you that I would love all the things that you do, and I do, and I do. I never realized what a kiss could be. This could only happen to me; can't you see, can't you see? That's when I tell you that I love you. You're going to say you love me too."
"That's all I have so far." His eyes searched her face for approval.
She smiled encouragingly. "You should play it for her."
"What are you talking…?"
"Cynthia! Cynthia Powell? I've seen the way you look at her."
John looked taken aback but soon pushed any approaching thoughts out of his mind. "Yeah, she's great."
"So that's who you wrote it for? Cynthia?"
"yes." He lied.
"I'm happy for you John."
His heart had dropped by now, but he merely smiled. "I've got to go."
"Wait, John!"
"What?" he spat, a little harsher than he meant to.
She suddenly became very interested in the carpet pattern, not looking at him.
"How do you know when you're in love?"
He looked down at her, surprised. "When you don't care who knows it."
She smiled. "I think I am."
"You are what?" he asked anxiously.
She rolled her eyes. "…in love."
"Really?" he breathed.
"So you think I should tell him then, Paul that is?"
"What?" John asked, his heart feeling as if it had been ripped in two.
"I just don't know what to do!" she giggled. "I've never felt this way before."
He studied her for a moment before whispering "I have. And it's not that great."
With that, he left the studio leaving both Sloane and his Rhythm guitar abandoned.
A/N: Eh? Eh? What do you think? You can tell me by clicking that little review button. ;)