Author's Note: Okay, this short, sweet little drabble was by my friend, Emily. Warnings for suggestive content, I guess, but nothing in depth. Not at all!
Pizza
"Joooohn…" Courtney mock-whined to her fiancé. It was Saturday, and they were laying on the couch, just being generally lazy after a long week. "I don't wanna cook tonigh."
"Well, 'm not gonna do it."
"There's always pizza, I guess," she muttered, her breath tickling his neck.
"Heh, stop tha. Anyroad, tha'll work, pizza sounds gear."
"Thought so."
There was a pause.
John sighed. "'M gonna 'ave to phone, won't I?"
"Mhmm."
"Fine!" he said, sighing dramatically and stepping over to the rotary phone.
A few minutes later, he returned to the couch.
"Righ, they'll be a few minutes."
"Gear," Courtney replied.
A moment of silence.
"Ye wanna do somethin, then?" John said, wagging his eyebrows.
Courtney laughed.
Later, a pizza guy appeared at the door. Typical pimply face, wanting to get his job done and get back. He rang the doorbell and waited.
He didn't expect a half-naked John Lennon to appear at the door, hair mussed up and all.
John gave the boy a glare, probably for interrupting, and said, "Try again later," before slamming the door.