AN: Something I did for a writing network on tumblr (beatleswritingnetwork). Thought I should share it other places as well.
John habitually left his top shirt button undone and his tie crooked; often before they went onstage, in an almost wifely—or motherly—gesture, Paul would stand him still and do up the button for him.
— 'John Lennon: The Life' - Phillip Norman, page 299
30 minutes before the show.
Everyone was buzzing. Crew was rushing around. Press was being ushered from the room. The boys were nervous and circled together.
George was plucking at his guitar, tuning it, making sure everything was perfect. He talked excitedly with Mal about his strings and back-up guitar. Ringo was smoking, drumming on his arm, and listening to Brian. John was next to them, also listening to what their manager had to say, arms crossed, ready to make any last minute decisions. They were all focused on getting ready . But Paul stood off to the side, biting his lip and staring at John.
The older boy's top button was undone, and his tie was loose - as always. Paul couldn't understand why Brian hadn't said anything about it yet. He probably knew Paul wouldn't let John go onstage like that and therefore, it wasn't his problem.
Paul walked over, greeted by a polite yet genuinely eager smile from Brian and a toothy grin from John.
"I'll be on my way," Brian was saying. "Good luck. I'll see you out there."
"Bye," Ringo called.
"Bye!" John screamed, turning to Paul with a smug smirk.
He raised his chin at Paul's shake of the head. Ringo laughed behind them.
"You're worse than Cyn," John said as Paul went to work.
Paul pressed his lips together. He wiggled John's tie tighter until it threatened to choke him.
"Mother Paul," Ringo said with a chuckle.
John coughed and slapped Paul's hands away. He sneered and tugged at his collar. "Trying to do me in, McCartney?"
"Why don't you dress yourself right in the first place? Then you wouldn't have to worry about me trying to kill you," Paul said.
John shrugged, fixing his tie for himself. "I like it when you do it."
"He likes being babied," Mal said.
John narrowed his eyes playfully but still hostile. Mal smiled and headed for the door.
"Good luck out there," he called over his shoulder. "I'll come back for your instruments in a minute."
They muttered "thank you"s and huddled together. George put down his guitar, and Ringo put out his cigarette. Their elbows touched when they shoved their shaking hands in their pocket.
"Ready for tonight, boys?" John asked.
"Yeah."
"Yep."
"Sure."
John eyed all of them.
"C'mon, fellas," he shouted. "Are you ready?!"
They all laughed.
"Yeah!" the three chorused.
"We're playing in front of thousands of people tonight," John went on. Then, his smile grew wider. "Where did we make it, fellas?"
"To the top!"
"And where's that?"
"To the toppermost of the poppermost, Johnny!"
They erupted into laughter, grabbing for each other's arms and doubling over. Tears streamed down their rosy cheeks. Hysterics cramped their stomachs and stole their breath. Perhaps they laughed at their inside joke that only they could understand the weight of. Or the overwhelming feeling of pride swelling inside them because they had made it.
The stage crew watched, amused. The four boys were in their own world.
"Let's get going," John said when they all caught their breath.
They grabbed the rest of their stuff and ran from the room. Paul's worked at John's collar, fixing it so it laid flat like the rest of the groups'.
"Nervous still?" John asked. "You're too fidgety to not be nervous."
Paul shrugged. He let go of John's shirt. "You?"
John nodded. Paul put an arm around his shoulder.
"We'll do fine. We always do."
"I might throw up," John said once they reached the end of the first hall. They stopped. George and Ringo continued through the doors. "I can't even see the bleeding audience, and I might throw up on all of them."
"I promise you you won't."
"How?"
"You're John Lennon. You won't. If we can make it this big, fate isn't going to make you throw up on stage… Besides, the girls might like it."
John scoffed. "They'd probably never wash it off."
"Now, come on." Paul ran his fingers along John's shirt collar once more. "Get it together. We'll do great."
John smirked. "Let's catch up with Ringo and George."
They burst through the doors. Paul's hands went to buttoning John's shirt cuffs.
