Paul's POV
It was now the morning of February 14th. Our final plan had come down to this; I was going to get John and Cynthia to come for dinner and dancing with Ringo, Maureen, Jane, and myself. Mimi was away on vacation with her sisters, so there would be no one to watch Julian. No one but two people, that is. I would oh-so-suavely convince John to let Emily babysit. This part would take some doing and possibly present some obstacles, as they weren't really on comfortable speaking terms just yet. Meanwhile, Ringo would be using all of his rather extensive puppy-dog charms on Cynthia to get her to ask George to babysit Julian. It wouldn't take much effort to get her to agree to that. Cyn thought highly of George and it also helped quite a bit that George was good with kids and Julian absolutely adored the lad. It was a pretty gear plan, if I did say so myself.
I was on the phone with Jane now, and she had just agreed to go out for dinner with us "...Okay, Jane. I'll pick ye up at six. Bye, luv." I blew a kiss into the phone and hung up to some exaggerated gagging noises, presumably from John. I turned to see him sitting at the kitchen table "Real mature, mate." I said, coming to sit down across from him.
"Yer such a romantic fool, McCartney." He barely contained a roll of his eyes.
"And yet, the birds like it." I said with a smirk. This time he did roll his eyes all the way back in his head "Careful, Lennon. They'll get stuck up there if ya keep doin' that. Jane an' I are goin' with Ringo an' Mo tonight to get some dinner an' then go dancin'. You an' Cyn wanna come?" I asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck in thought "I dunno. Cyn an' I were plannin' on just stayin' at Mendips fer a quiet evening. Plus, Mimi's out of town on holiday. No one would be able to take care of Julian."
I pantomimed—convincingly, might I add—being struck by an idea "'Ey, I know who could watch 'im!" It took John approximately three seconds to catch on.
"Uh-uh," he shook his head empathetically "Cyn would never go fer that. An' we're really not on speaking terms yet. At all."
"Cyn doesn't 'ave to know, an' I can ask Emily for ya." I said immediately. He considered this option and seemed to find it acceptable.
"Yer idea does sound better than a night in, I'll call Cyn up an' see if she wants to go. If she says yes, could ya ask Emily for me? An' tell 'er that I'm busy or I would come and ask 'er meself, I don't want 'er thinkin' that I'm scared." He gave me a sharp look.
"Sure, mate. No problem." I repressed a grin.
"Thanks, Paul." He clapped me on the shoulder before heading off in search of his guitar.
Ringo's POV
"'Ello?" Cyn's voice picked up. She sounded terse.
"Hi, Cyn. It's Ringo."
"Oh, 'ello Ringo!" Her voice relaxed somewhat "How are you?"
"I'm pretty well, yerself?" I responded.
"I'm alright. John just called me an' said that some of you are goin' for dinner tonight and you wanted us to go." I hoped she couldn't hear me smiling through the phone.
"Uh-huh, that's the idea." I said, putting as much smooth charm into my voice as I could.
"I think it's a gear idea, but we've got no one to watch Jules and we can't just leave 'im here by himself, y'know." Well, there we go. It was time to employ my fabulous acting skills.
A "spontaneous" idea came to me "George isn't doin' anything tonight." I hinted.
"D'you think he would do it?" she asked, hope glimmering in her tone.
"Definitely, the lad's great with kids." I said confidently, hiding a triumphant laugh.
"An' Julian's comfortable with him, so I think it'll work out just fine." She said, sounding much happier than she had when she picked up "But listen, could ya ask him for me? I'm a little too busy right now."
"No problem, Cyn. See ya later." I hung up and did a little victory dance. Everything was working out just fine.
I sauntered causally into the living room and found George sprawled on the couch, doodling absentmindedly in a sketchbook. He had an unusually dreamy look in his eyes, so I decided to take a peek at his latest work of art.
"Something you'd care to show the rest of the class, Georgie?" I asked, peering down at the drawing "Watcha drawin'?" He instantly turned red and hugged the sketch to his thin chest, but not before I caught a glimpse of a drawing of what appeared to be a girl that bore extraordinary resemblance to a girl known as Emily Scott.
"Nothin'," he said much too quickly. I chuckled and pried it from his resisting grasp, drawing cries of protest. Appraising the drawing, I gave a nod of approval. This kid was head over heels in love, and it was obvious.
"Nice. Looks just like 'er." His cheeks intensified in color as he snatched it back with a glare in my direction "Say, Geo—" I began.
"Wot d'you want Rings?" he asked with an exaggerated sigh. I knew he was teasing, but I couldn't resist the temptation to irk him a little further.
"Oh say now, that wasn't nice, son!" I exclaimed in mock hurt, grabbing the sketchbook back "I think I'll go give this to that nice little bird that ya fancy so much, wot was 'er name... oh! Em—" He clapped a hand over my mouth and rescued the drawing.
"Stop it, will ya? I'm sorry, please excuse my terrible rudeness." He gave an ironic little bow.
I laughed as he released his hold on my mouth "Paul, Jane, John, Cyn, Mo, an' myself are goin' out tonight, an' Cyn's got no one to watch Jules. She was wonderin' if you would." He considered this for awhile.
"Don't 'ave anything else to do, do I?" he asked somewhat bitterly, but then forced a smile onto his face.
"Ta," I ruffled the younger boy's hair as I left. He had no idea how much his world would flip upside down. But then again, I'm not sure if any of us knew.
Paul's POV
Emily stood at the counter washing dishes. I crept up behind her and poked her sides. This had been a bad idea on my part; Emily had strong reactions to being surprised. She shrieked and spun around, catching me in the face with a wet, soapy sponge. It hit my face with a wet, thwack! I couldn't see at all; I was blinded by bubbles.
"Em! Ick!" I yelped, groping for a towel on the counter. She pulled said towel off her shoulder and slung it at me.
"It's yer own fault fer sneakin' up on me like that!" she scolded, hiding a grin as I scrubbed my face dry "If nothin' else, I got ya to wash yer face." She smirked.
"Whatever," I waved her off impatiently "I actually came to ask ya a favor." She finished with the last of the dishes and turned to me, wiping her hands on the towel.
"Wot?" she asked, hanging the towel back where it belonged.
"Well, John was—" she shot me a significant look that I ignored completely "—Gonna ask ya if you'll babysit Julian tonight." I finished in a rush.
"She contemplated the idea, adopting a pensive look "I don't owe John any favors, not by a long stretch. But I like kids an' I 'aven't got anything else to do tonight, so I suppose that it's yes."
"Okay, luv. I'm sure John will be grateful." She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. I wondered how much of it, if any of it, would still be there after tonight.
The remainder of the day went by as normally as possible. I guess our lives weren't what one could call normal, really, but we didn't get mauled by fans gone wild. That's probably as normal as our lives could get.
"Em?" I called. She came out of the kitchen, pretty much her permanent residency with four hungry young men to feed everyday "John an' Cyn are meetin' us there an' they've probably left already. I'll drop ye off at Mendips on my way to pick Jane up."
"You still 'aven't introduced me to yer girlfriend, Paulie, fer shame!" she teased, poking my sides "Thanks for the ride." She pulled her coat on and went out to the car with me following close behind. Not much was said on the short drive over; Love Me Do was on the radio and we were both singing along obnoxiously. I was pretty sure someone would call the police due to public disturbance if people had been able to hear us. We pulled up to Mendips and she ruffled my hair, much to my annoyance, as she leapt out of the car with a goodbye.
Emily's POV
The door was unlocked and I let myself in, hanging my coat on the hook. There was a hastily scribbled note taped on the wall.
Julian's room is upstairs, first on the right. He should be sleeping
~John
I slid my shoes off, delicately padded over to the steps, and then up them. At the top, there was a small, but comfortable looking room. It was a total mess; there were bits of paper everywhere and every flat surface had at least two books piled precariously on top of each other. I had already guessed the owner of this room by the time I looked at the plaque on the door: John's Room.
A faint crying sound came from the room that John had stated in his note belonged to Julian. I opened the door and crossed the room quickly to the crib. It seemed as though he had just woken up. I reached into the crib and gently took the tiny bundle into my arms.
"Shh, shh," I whispered, rocking the baby boy back and forth "It's okay, Julian. Hush now." I cooed softly as I swayed back and forth, but to no avail. The cries wouldn't stop.
George's POV
I got out of my car and locked the doors. When I got to the front door it was unlocked so I quietly let myself in and shed my coat and shoes. From past experience, I knew where Julian's room was and I went upstairs to go check on him, resigning myself to a night alone. To my surprise, the door was open and there was already somebody in Julian's room. A very familiar person.
Emily's POV
A sound at the doorway made me turn and gasp with surprise. It was George. He looked equally surprised to see me. His eyebrows were contracted in thought.
"What're ye—" we said together. I giggled at his expression and motioned with my head that he should continue.
"Wot are ye doin' 'ere?" he asked.
"John asked—well, Paul asked for John—if I could come take care of Julian tonight." I responded, still trying to stop Julian's cries. He frowned in confusion.
"That's funny, 'cause Ringo asked me in place of Cyn if I could come watch Julian." We were pensive for a moment, and then an idea crept into my brain.
"Either this is a weird instance of miscommunication, or it was deliberately set up by a pair of idiots that go by the names of Paul and Ringo." I said, making a mental note to shave off their hair while they were sleeping or some other obscenity later "Oh, this poor little fella just won't stop cryin'!" I exclaimed, bouncing the unhappy baby up and down, still swaying from side to side.
"Let me take 'im," George offered, holding out his arms. I carefully passed the upset little bundle into his arms. He appeared to have experience in this area, because he immediately began to softly croon an old Bing Crosby standard. Within seconds, Julian's cries eased. About a minute later, his eyelids had drooped shut and he was peacefully sleeping.
"How did ya do that?" he shrugged as best he could with his arms otherwise occupied.
"I've done this before. Ya just 'ave to sing to 'im." He said nonchalantly, rocking the now slumbering Julian back and forth.
"Well, I wish I'd known that before," I said "I tried just about everything you could think of before ya got 'ere." IT surprised me that George was so good with kids, but I also found it sweet. There was a tender look in his dark eyes as he set Julian back in his crib. We tiptoed down the stairs.
George's stomach rumbled loudly and he snuck a sheepish glance at me. I laughed and went into the kitchen to hunt down some food. It was evident that Mimi had been gone and that John had been the one doing the shopping because the only thing in abundance was cornflakes. There was just enough bread and jam for some sandwiches. I popped my head out the doorway.
"George?" I called. He came out of the living room.
He beat me to my explanation of the food situation "Lemme guess. There's not much of anything to eat except cornflakes." I nodded and he made a "typical John" face at me.
"There's enough jam an' bread for some jam butties and there's quite a lot of tea." I suggested.
"I'll 'elp ya make it," he offered, coming into the kitchen before I could say otherwise. In moments, he was at the counter, rolling up the sleeves of his dark red button down shirt.
"Well, if yer sure," I trailed off. He gave me his famous lopsided grin and I felt the familiar sensation of my insides being replaced with caterpillars.
I started the tea brewing and hunted the jam down again. George got the bread out and took the appropriate amount of slices out. He took the jam from my hands and a spark make my fingertips tingle with the unexpected touch. I poured the tea into separate cups and added two spoonfuls of sugar to each "Ya done over there?" I asked George. He finished putting the sandwiches on a plate and nodded in assent. We sat down in the sunroom, which admittedly wasn't very sunny at seven pm.
"I'm just gonna go check on Julian again," I said to break the thickening silence.
"Alright," George mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. I trotted up the stairs and poked my head in Julian's room. He was still sleeping quietly
When I got back downstairs, our awkward silence continued. Then George spoke "Blimey, this is weird," he said, plopping himself back in his chair dramatically. It was then that I noticed a smear of jam on George's nose.
"Geo, you've got jam on yer nose," I giggled, grabbing a napkin and wiping it away.
"Cut it out!" he laughed, squirming away from my assault on his nose. This made me loose my balance and I landed on top of him. Just as I was thinking that we seemed to find ourselves in this situation quite a lot, I felt his soft lips cautiously touch mine. A shockwave of heat and electricity jolted through me as I started to kiss him back. His hands came up to work themselves through my hair, but then I pulled away as I realized what I was doing.
"I-I-" I stammered "I'm sorry." I fled to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Tears leaked out from beneath my closed eyelids as I clutched the edge of the sink for support. Looking back on it, I was probably being irrational, but I was just petrified with the fear of being hurt again emotionally or physically.
The door gently opened and George stood in the doorway. He made a move toward me and I flinched away, trying to control my tears. His eyes were full of kindness as he took my face in his warm hands and wiped the tears tenderly from my cheeks "Why won't ya let yerself love an' be loved?" he asked quietly, pulling me against his strong chest in a reassuring embrace. I felt all desire to leave flood out of me.
"I'm just scared George," I whispered into his shirt.
"Why?" he asked, tilting my chin up with his calloused fingers.
"I don't wanna get hurt again, and I don't want to hurt anyone again." My voice was small and feeble and I hated it.
"This is gonna sound corny, an' ya don't 'ave to believe me, but I promise you that I will never hurt ya. Ever." His face was open and earnest; he wanted me to believe him, and I did.
"I believe ya," I whispered and stood on tiptoe so I could almost reach his lips. He tipped his head down so we met in the middle. Electricity coursed through my body and as cliché as it sounds, I saw fireworks going off behind my closed eyelids as the kiss deepened. His hands curled through my hair and he angled his head so our mouths meshed better. My fingertips gently brushed over the smooth skin of his face like a blind person reading braille and knotted in his soft hair. After what seemed simultaneously like a second and eternity, we broke apart. His hands still rested on my face.
My breathing was erratic and quick, as was his. Suddenly, he grinned down at me and took my hand "I've got something to show ye," he said, pulling me into the sitting room and seating me on a chair. One of John's guitars sat upon a stand. George picked it up and sat across from me, a nervous smile touching his lips. He started to play the beginnings of a very familiar song.
You'll never know how much I really love you.
You'll never know how much I really care.
Listen,
Do you want to know a secret?,
Do you promise not to tell?, whoa oh, oh.
Closer,
Let me whisper in your ear,
Say the words you long to hear,
I'm in love with you.
I was grinning like a fool by the time he started to sing this part. It was one of my favorite songs that they did and now he was singing it for me. And it actually meant something.
Listen,
Do you want to know a secret?,
Do you promise not to tell?, whoa oh, oh.
Closer,
Let me whisper in your ear,
Say the words you long to hear,
I'm in love with you.
I've known the secret for a week or two,
Nobody knows, just we two.
Listen,
Do you want to know a secret?,
Do you promise not to tell?, whoa oh, oh.
Closer,
Let me whisper in your ear,
Say the words you long to hear,
I'm in love with you.
I was certain that the smile would never come off my face. When he finished he looked a bit worried "It's not the best I've ever done the song, but—" I reached across and sealed his lips with a kiss.
"I think it was wonderful," I whispered against his lips, making him smile. He leaned in for another kiss, but Julian decided to take this moment to wake up and fuss. I laughed and leaned my forehead against his for a minute, and then we went upstairs to check on him, hand in hand.
When we got back downstairs, we curled up on the couch and talked. His warmth made me drowsy, and it wasn't long before I fell asleep against him with his arms wrapped comfortingly around me.
Paul's POV
The girls had decided to stay at Maureen's house for the night so they could go shopping in the morning. What allure shopping held for girls, I'll never know. Trudging around and trying a bunch of clothes on only to end up buying nothing just didn't fall under my definition of fun, somehow.
On the drive back to Mendips, Ringo and I explained to John our little plan. He laughed and shook his head "You two amaze me sometimes," he said. Ringo and I slapped a high-five, just barely missing John's face in the process.
When we got to the front door, Ringo tiptoed in first, poked his head around the corner and turned back to us with a huge grin plastered on his face. He beckoned for use to follow. Emily and George were sleeping on the sofa, her head was on his shoulder and their fingers were loosely entwined. I smiled, reaching over to gently wake George up. He blinked drowsily at me and indicated that I shouldn't wake Emily.
"We still gotta get 'er 'ome, though," I whispered "We can't just 'ave a sleepover 'ere." George responded by gently picking her up. She mumbled in her sleep a bit and clutched at his shirt, but didn't wake. He carried her out to the car and the ride was silent, but comfortable.
George accidentally jolted Emily as he got out of the car and she stirred "George?" she asked, looking up at him. He smiled and kissed her forehead softly. They were practically radiating love if that was physically possible.
"I'm here." Those were the two, monosyllabic words that Emily had been needing to hear her whole life.