YES IT IS

Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovelyrita_mm

Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue

Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).

Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of historical fiction.

Chapter Four

They split in their different directions almost the moment they arrived at the party, as the music took on a life of its own all around them. Bodies moved and danced, people talked in shadowed corners, pictures were snapped and alcohol consumed. Maggie knew that it was a cleaner party than the ones that they would thrust themselves into in their near future. They had been right. This was business. They just planned to make it pleasure as well.

Drifting nearly to opposite corners of the room, each Beatle was clearly after their own comfort for the night. John was the only one who didn't seem interested in pulling a bird though. For once, what he had in front of him was satisfying enough.

Just prior to leaving for the party, Maggie had entered back into the studio as the Beatles were all finishing up for the day; the smile on John's face was hard to miss, and hard not to return. Even Paul gave her an appreciative glance when he saw her, kicking himself moments later for eyeing what he was subconsciously considering the enemy. She had found the perfect dress for the night, colored a deep red and for all its appeal, it had a hefty price tag that went along with it….as near as she could tell, anyway – it seemed that in 1964, a dress cost less than a fast food meal would at home. But when she compared the prices of her dress to the others… Mal had grabbed it from her hands just as she was about to put it back on the rack and had taken it straight to the cashier before Maggie could even protest. He'd also made sure she had picked up whatever she might need to do her makeup and hair.

Looking at her now, John was impressed with how easily she'd been able to transform herself, and how effortlessly. She wasn't overly made-up, but he thought she was beautiful as she was. Hell, he'd liked her in her jeans and t-shirt. Perhaps he was past his Bridgette Bardot phase as he could think of nothing more appealing right now than long, dark hair.

"Hey," John said, resting his hand lightly on her elbow and pulling her out of her thoughts. "Do you want to go someplace quieter?" Maggie quirked an eyebrow at him, giving him a small smile. John only laughed. "Maybe later then, luv," he whispered in her ear, sending warm shivers up and down her spine where they then pooled in the pit of her stomach. Wordlessly she let John lead her to a darker corner of the room, both of them slipping away from the masses, the sounds of the party slightly muting as they receded into the shadows.

Watching her sit down, John lit up a cigarette and took a long and deep drag on it. He poured both of them a drink from the bottle he'd grabbed on their way over here. Maggie watched him quietly, seeing the raw emotion flicker through his soft eyes now that they were away from most people. His expression seemed to soften as he handed her a drink and watched as she sipped at it. Both were content in each others company, but neither really knew what to say.

John studied her again. She was beautiful, but not in a conventional way. With her curves, she didn't fit the 60s Twiggy-like mold, nor did she resemble his usual blonde starlet-like preferences. There was also the matter of Maggie's personality. She was obviously not content to just sit back and let a man provide for her while she popped out babies and made dinner. No, she was driven, secure, independent, and did not seem to need anyone or any man to feel complete in her life.

She was the opposite of any woman he had ever been attracted to both in appearance and personality.

There was no doubt in John's mind that he was attracted to her, and the intrigue that came along with her just seemed to be an added bonus. John frowned, his cynical side coming out. It was all too perfect; like everything in his life, he knew that it couldn't last. She wouldn't last. Whether she would change, or just his perception of her, it didn't matter; in the end this version of her would be gone. If he was to have her, she would be gone within a matter days. Besides, he realized that she was strong and independent, and when it came down to it, no girl like that wanted to be with a man like him. By the looks of her, she led one of those perfect lives, and because of it, she would never be able to understand the pain that still lashed deeply inside him.

"Tell me, luv?" he asked, turning to her with a small smile. "Just how proud are your Mum and Dad over their perfect daughter?" Taking a sip of his drink, he laughed bitterly on the inside and briefly couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have a parent still around that actually even cared for what you did, let alone be proud of you. "I bet you are a constant bit of bragging for them, what with being a successful scientist for NASA, and in a rock band at that. That's why people have kids you know, so they can brag about them, because one day they realize that they're old and their lives haven't been worth shite and all they've got to show for themselves is you." Laughing, John downed the rest of his drink and shook his head a little. Peering into the depths of his glass, John felt himself becoming lost in the roaring world that was spinning around him. "Too bad my parents didn't stick around. Apparently they thought I'd never be worth bragging about." Truth be told, neither did John.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his resentment and jealousy over the childhood he imagined she'd had. Maggie swallowed as she stared at him, feeling a weight bare down on her heart. She didn't get angry and she didn't get upset at his assumptions. She knew why he was behaving the way he was; she understood more then he knew. Leaning back into the sofa, she looked out onto the dance floor. The bodies continued to writhe and mold against each other as each and every one of the partygoers tried to forget the trial and troubles that had hounded them that day.

"My parents are dead," she stated, not looking at him. "They were on a skiing trip together and on the way back they hit some black ice that caused their car to spin out of control and go off the road. The car rolled a few times crushing and killing my mother instantly. My dad died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital," she recited all this as if she had said it hundreds of times before. She felt her heart ache over the loss of two people that she could hardly even remember. "I was only about four so it's not like I ever really knew them, but I still… I still dream about them at times." She laughed derisively at her own stupidity, shaking her head a little.

John was taken aback, the glass that had been half way to his lips freezing in midair as he looked at her, watching concealed pain rise to the surface. Letting his hand fall, he looked down at his lap. "Must have been hard." Maggie only shrugged, not offering anything else up. Like she had said, she was so young she hardly remembered them. What was hard had been how she had always felt different from other people growing up. They all had parents while she had to learned to do things for herself. John swallowed, swirling the alcohol round in circles as he listened to the beat twist around the room. "My mum got hit by a car when I was seventeen," he said slowly. "She abandoned me when I was three, didn't really make contact with me again for a while later, and when she finally started acting like my mother an off-work cop decided to come and steal her from me."

Maggie tilted her head towards his, regarding him carefully. He hadn't once raised his eyes to meet hers though. She knew his past, she knew of his mother and of his father and knew that her own life's tragedies had been similar to his own in many ways. But she couldn't tell him that. How were you supposed to tell someone that you learned all about some of the most private parts of their lives through a book? She also knew from her reading that his relationship with his parents was more complex than he was letting on, or even admitting to himself.

Feeling slightly awkward, she turned back to her own drink, sipping at it again. John lifted his head and looked at her carefully, taken aback by the fact that she hadn't offered any of the usual platitudes that birds tended to give when told of his life. Maybe it was because she knew first hand that it hurt more when people did that. Plus you know they were just saying it half the time because they felt like they ought to.

Swallowing, John ventured forward a little further. He wanted to hear her keep talking, wanted to know that there were others out there like him. "Was it hard for you, growing up without any parents?"

Clearing her throat, Maggie shrugged. "Like I said, I didn't really know them too well. My grandmother was the one who actually raised me. It was just her and me when I was a kid." Wrapping her arms around herself, Maggie blinked rapidly to ward away any tears that the mention of her beloved grandmother might have summoned. "She dropped everything for me. She took me in without even batting an eyelash."

John stared at her, the expression that had clouded his features slowly fading. "She sounds like a great woman," he said after the moments stretched on and silence reigned.

Maggie nodded. "She was," she agreed. Turning to John with a sad smile, she licked her lips. "She died last year. Time finally caught up to her I guess."

John blinked, turning his head, not able to handle the gaze she was giving him. He didn't want to see the pain in her eyes. Taking a drag on his cigarette, John cocked his head to the side. "I was raised by an Auntie," he offered to her. "She was…" John laughed fondly, "She was horrible at times. All proper like, thinking she knew what was best for me."

"And despite that you still love her." Maggie said with a knowing grin.

John laughed, refusing to admit to anything. "Any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope," she said, breathing in deeply and letting it all out with a single gush of air. "I'm an only child."

John nodded. "Looks like you and I have a lot in common, luv."

Maggie watched as he stubbed out the butt of his cigarette, grinding it harshly into the arm of his chair. "You have sisters, though." Almost the minute the words left her mouth, she cringed.

John looked taken aback for a minute, but then laughed. "How'd you know that?"

Looking down intently at her lap, Maggie bit her lip. "I uh- I read it." She said softly as she felt the crimson blush color her cheeks. "There are quite a few books written about you, you know."

John grinned, leaning forward and sounded more intrigued by the moment. "Is there now?" Maggie nodded. "Tell me, luv. What nasty little details of my life do these books catalogue?"

Maggie sighed, leaning into the cushions with a little shrug. "Oh, you know. It just talks about how you became a musician, how you got your start and everything, and then how when you were in your mid-twenties you decided to throw out your guitar in trade for the Bible and how you decided to dedicate your life to Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior instead."

John snorted in laughter. "Not bloody likely."

"What?" Maggie asked, turning to him with a look full of innocence. "You don't believe me?"

"Not in this lifetime."

With a little grin, Maggie shrugged. "Well, you're in luck then because I don't belong to this lifetime."

John shook his head. "No, come on. What do these books say?" Maggie opened her mouth, prepared to tell yet another fabricated story to try and best him, but quickly stopped. Something in John's expression stopped him as he picked up his glass, the ice clinking against the sides of the crystal. "Am I still married to Cyn?" he asked almost casually, almost as if he was asking if the sky was still blue in the future.

Maggie looked taken aback as she watched him touch the glass to his lips, wincing slightly at the alcohol went down cold and bitter. Leaning his head back against the back of the sofa, John swallowed thickly, straining to keep control of his emotions.

"Oh, come on, if these books know anything then you must know how my marriage is in trouble," he said bitterly. "You must know how it's all going to end for me. If it's going to end. Is it going to end?"

Maggie stayed silent, not sure if he even wanted an answer to all of this. Taking another swig of his drink, John sunk further down into the seat, shaking his head. Maggie watched him, not even daring to move. His hair fell gently in front of his eyes and he didn't even bother to push it away as he stared down into his drink, lost in his own silent misery.

"I just don't know what to do," he quietly admitted. "I did love her. I do love her. I'm just not passionate about her. I'm more passionate about my music then I am about her. Doesn't that seem wrong? Shouldn't I be more passionately in love with the woman I am married to than I am with my music? Shouldn't I look forward to going home to my family at night more then I look forward to another day of writing music and playing with Paul?" John frowned, having grappled with the same questions silently for a long time now. "There was a time when she was my everything. When I'd lie awake at night just thinking of her. But now…" With a bitter laugh, he looked out at the dancing crowd, almost begging them for answers. "I'm not- I'm not sure if I love her anymore because I want to, or because I have to." Grabbing the bottle, John refilled his glass, glaring at it's dark contents before slamming the green bottle back down onto the ground below so hard that Maggie thought for sure it was going to shatter. "I just feel like I'm suffocating," he bit out. "No matter what I do it's never enough, it's never right. My own marriage is slowly strangling me and I'm not man enough to either try and salvage it or just end it all together. Instead I go out and fuck whatever girl comes my way before going home and not even stopping to kiss my wife on the cheek when I walk in the door." Raising his glass in a bitter salute, John smiled at Maggie. "Cheers by the way."

She watched as he drained his glass, reached for the bottle and poured yet another. Taking a sip of hers, Maggie stayed silent, knowing that he wasn't looking for words of comfort right now. He was simply looking for someone he could trust.

"My own son isn't even enough to change things either." His voice was nearly inaudible as his eyes got misty. "God, but he's beautiful," John breathed. "You should see him when he smiles. It's like the whole fucking room lights up. I've never seen anything like it." John shook his head. "But you know what I realized the other day? When Cyn walks into the room, he smiles, when the cats come strolling in from the back yard, he grins, and when my best mate walks through the fucking door, Julian holds out his arms and laughs. But when I enter the room," John bit his lip, gritting his teeth as his voice grew gruff with unshed tears. "When I walk in the room he just looks at me. It's like he doesn't even know what to do. My own son is fucking afraid of me and I don't even know how to change it. God, I don't even know how to hold him without fucking it all up." He laughed bitterly. "I'm no better than me own Dad. Just a worthless piece of shite who was drunk one night and came home only to stick it to his girlfriend."

Setting her own glass aside, Maggie leaned forward, taking John's hand in hers. He looked down, marveling at their entwined fingers, and stared in confusion as her tiny hand wrapped securely around his. With his drink in the other hand, he downed the rest of it, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing.

"There's a lot of things I regret," he said hesitantly. "But when twenty years of my life goes by, I have a feeling that the simple fact that I couldn't even play with my son properly is going to top the charts." He paused, then, "No, wait, fifteen. I've only fifteen years left, haven't I? Christ."

Maggie felt her stomach knot at his words, watching the belief shade his cheeks and the tears swim fitfully through his eyes. The heartless bastard that some made him out to be when it came to his first marriage was a quickly diminishing thought. Squeezing his hand, Maggie looked at him hopefully. "Then change it," she encouraged quietly. "John, I've seen the future and all it contains is your little boy growing up thinking that his father didn't love him." John turned away, his eyes locked towards the outside world. "You can change that though," she said desperately. "Spend time with him. Even if you feel like a complete idiot when you're with him, I can assure you that the simple fact that you're at least trying is a memory that is going to stay with the boy for as long as he lives."

John swallowed. "How is that enough?"

"John, you're his father. Believe me, it's enough."

Sniffing, John looked down at his drink. "And Cyn? Is there a future for us?"

Maggie felt her throat go dry. If she told him the truth, then his marriage with her would break off earlier than it had, if she lied and he heeded her words about Julian, there may have been some hope to their future, but more likely than not, their marriage was going to end the same way it had before.

"I don't want to say anything to break up your marriage, to cause more fighting or pain," she said simply. "But you're going to find a girl. And you're going to fall for her and because of it your marriage is only going to end in pain. You're going to run off with another woman and your marriage is going to end in the public spotlight, setting up both Julian and Cynthia for a lifetime of resentment." Bringing his hand up to his eyes, John rubbed at them fitfully, feeling his head start to swim. "It's your own decision on how you want to end your marriage. But, you said you loved her once, and if that's true, then you know as well as I do that Cynthia deserves better than what you're going to do to her." At John's pained look, Maggie reached over and took his other hand, "Hey," she said squeezing his hands gently. He peered up at her through his fringe, clearly troubled by it all. "Nothing is written in stone, John, not even your death. This isn't a script you have to act out. You can still change things. The future has endless possibilities. We may not have any control over what lot we are given in life, but we do have control over our choices and decisions and how we treat others." John opened his mouth about to respond when loud laughter rained through out the room, the voices and music seeping through the walls. John looked around him, watching as Ringo bounced around on the dance floor, as George poured a girl another drink, and as Paul pulled a bird onto his lap without pretence. Shaking his head, John turned towards Maggie and all at once she knew that the conversation had ended.

"Come 'ead," John muttered with a bit of a lazy smile. "Let's dance."

Pulling her up, the two of them headed towards the dance floor, weaving their bodies in and out of the crowd. John pulled her to him, his hands low on her waist as her scent filled him. Sweat beaded sweetly on his brow, her intoxicating aroma reaching out and wrapping him in its warm and sensual embrace. Maggie looked up at him, feeling her breath quicken and her heart hammer against her chest. His cheeks were flushed with the heat and alcohol, his eyes dark as he pulled her closer, a slow song stringing out through the room as the music changed.

Resting her head against his shoulder, Maggie closed her eyes and swallowed. John's hand splayed against the small of her back, his head bowing down as the scent of her hair swirled around him, nearly causing him to groan. He let his other hand travel up her spine, feeling the shivers race through her body despite the growing heat. His fingers slowly curled into her hair, letting the soft strands slip between his fingertips. Maggie felt herself unconsciously scooting closer, her lips parting slightly as she tried to regain control, a warm flutter taking place in the pit of her stomach.

As the song finished, John pulled away, looking at her for a beat before taking her by the hand. He led her outside towards a small balcony, shutting the glass door firmly behind him and blocking out the sounds of the party. Maggie walked towards the railing, leaned against it and clutched at the cool metal hoping to freeze the heat she was feeling inside.

"I used to do this," he whispered, fingering another cigarette slowly. "I used to climb out my window in the middle of the night and sneak off to the graveyard with Paul. We'd sometimes sit for hours just staring up at the stars, talking about our future." John let out a sigh. "It's all shite now though, isn't it? The future?"

Maggie swallowed, not knowing what to say to that. John started up again before she could even form a thought, turning around and leaning his back against the guard rail. With a sigh, he let in the cool air, feeling it wash into his blood and cool him from the inside out.

"So," he said with a tiny smile. "Tell me more about the future; like who wins the World Cup, so I can place my bets appropriately?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a smirk, watching as a slow and steady smile reached across those beautiful features.

"I can't, John," she said, laughing lightly. "I've already told you enough as it is."

"Oh, come on," he wheedled softly, a teasing lilt lacing his words. "You know you want to."

Maggie laughed, trying to fix him with a stern look but failing miserably. "No." She grinned. Pushing away from the railing, she tried to make her way back to the party, but the feel of John's hand over hers stopped her in mid step.

"You're being quite cruel, you know." He smiled, swinging their clasped hand back and forth between them. "We have names for birds like you."

Maggie laughed, trying to extricate herself from him and push him away. His hand only clasped hers tighter though, laughing with her as each struggled to gain dominance. With an evil grin, he looped his arm around her waist, pinning her back against the black railing in triumph as he effectively gained the much-desired control.

As they leaned against each other, panting, their hearts beating wildly after the brief struggle, both smiles quickly faded.

John felt a shiver run through him as he stared into her eyes, feeling the erratic beating of her heart against his own chest. He swallowed thickly, aware that his heart was doing the same, but unable to find the strength to pull away.

Hesitantly, John leaned forward, his eyes remaining on hers, ready to pull away at the first sign of protest. But, as his lips gently touched hers, her eyes fell closed, and her head tilted back as she returned the kiss, sighing at the feel of his lips.

He kissed her gently, scarcely able to breath as hope and anxiety built in his chest. Trailing his fingers up her arm, he brushed them against her cheek, feeling her body melt against him at his touch. Swallowing, John pressed forward, more urgent, needing to feel, to touch, and to simply connect with this woman. His hand slid down to her hip, the other tangling itself in her hair as he pulled her even tighter to him. Maggie moaned gently against his lips, pressing herself against him and wrapping her arms around his neck in silent invitation. Their breathing was fast and erratic, echoing through the silent night like thunder, their hearts beating wildly in their own ears as the world tumbled down around them, leaving only them wrapped in each other's arms.

John tried to pull her closer, his hand sliding down to her thigh and pulling it up to loop around his waist. But nothing was close enough. The clothes served as a barrier and as hard as he tried, as much as he pulled and pushed and begged silently to just feel her, he could get no closer.

Breaking away with a gasp, John rested his head against her shoulder, his breath wet against her heated skin. Swallowing thickly, John trailed his tongue over the salty flesh, nibbling gently on her ear. "There's an empty bedroom upstairs," he whispered huskily, his fingers trailing suggestively up and down her side.

And all at once, the fire within her was doused with the weight of his words hitting her like an ocean wave. Closing her eyes, she felt her stomach drop at the knowledge of what she was doing, of what he was suggesting. She was such a fool.

Slowly she untangled herself from John, holding him at arms length, not trusting herself to be so near to him any longer. "You're married," she gently reminded. "And while I know that that won't stop you from doing this, it's going to stop me." Looking into his eyes, she shook her head. "I can't have an affair with a married man, no matter how much I like him, or who he is. It's wrong," she said firmly. She was surprised at how strong her words had sounded, because she knew that in reality her resistance was barely hanging on by a thread. All he needed was to push the issue and any restraint she had would disappear. She knew it, and he knew it.

John looked at her, trying to gain control of his breathing. While he knew that he could push, knew that if he really wanted to, he could have her upstairs in a few minutes flat, he was slowly finding to his very great surprise that he didn't want that. He didn't want to treat her like every other girl he had had in the past. He knew it would be great at the time. Hell, it would have been fucking fantastic! But he also knew she would regret it afterwards, and it would ruin anything they could have ever had.

Swallowing his lust, John nodded. Without saying a word, he took her by the hand, and led her back to the party within.

Paul had watched it all.

He had seen the first of the hesitant kiss and he watched as it turned into groping hands and silent moans. He watched John kiss Maggie out of the corner of his eye as the bird on his own lap squirmed, sucking on his neck and running her hands up his side. His frown only deepened when Maggie pushed John away, and John didn't try anything more.

They locked eyes as both John and Maggie entered the room again, hand in hand. It was only for a moment though. Before John could say anything, Paul had pushed the girl from his lap, and headed towards the bar, leaving the blond reeling in his absence.

Sighing, John leaned down and gave Maggie's hand a little squeeze. "I'm going to go get something to drink," he whispered in her ear. "Why don't you go over and join the boys." Maggie smiled at him, knowing that he needed some space to cool down a bit. Hell, she needed some space for that matter. Being in close proximity with John was dangerous. He was better then she had ever imagined. There was so much more to him, to all of them, than she had ever read in a book or seen in an interview. She had always thought she'd known everything there was to know about all the Beatles, especially John, and now she realized that words could never capture the essence of a living person. They were so alive. There was no other word that she could think of to describe the feeling. Smiling to herself at her discovery, she walked over towards George and Ringo.

Making his way over to the bar, John watched as Paul tossed back a shot, grimacing at the taste.

"Slow down there, son," John laughed. "There's plenty more where that came from." Paul turned towards John, looking out him slightly before snorting in disgust. "Something you want to say, Macca?" John mused.

Paul shrugged, knocking back more drink. "I just never expected you to stoop so low, that's all. I mean, fucking the fans is one thing, but putting it to someone who's obviously not all there… I thought better of you, Lennon."

John watched as Paul smiled to himself, swallowing down the bitter liquid that kept being placed before him. Tightening his jaw, he wrapped his arm around Paul's shoulder and smiled thinly. "I'm going to let that one go, mate. Mainly because you're pissed and also because Brian would shit all over himself if he watched me bruise up that pretty little face of yours." Leaning in a little closer, John grinned. "You ever say anything like that again about her though, there's going to be problems, alright? Maggie's not a nutter, got it?"

Paul frowned, shrugging John off and glaring at the drink in his hand. John shook his head, letting the false smile slip away as he turned back to the party, leaving Paul to stare down into the bottom of his glass for the rest of the party.

The night passed with a roar from the stereo, the latest hits blasting across the room and causing Maggie to smile. If only they knew that these was the kind of songs that were only played on the oldies station from where she came from.

She and John talked a little more, keeping their conversation light and when he went off for another drink Ringo was there to pull her out to the dance floor. Maggie couldn't help but laugh as she danced along side the eldest Beatle, jumping up and down with him and nearly falling to the floor in a fit of giggles every time he showed her the newest dance move that was sure to win over the ladies. She would pretend to swoon, falling into him, and he would laugh and try to extract himself from her, telling her that he just couldn't take advantage of a pissed girl like that. It wasn't right. That and the fact that John would probably clobber him were the only things that were stopping him though, mind you.

In all of her daydreams, in all of her fantasies, Maggie could never recall ever having this much fun. It was the little things that were making it all the more real for her. The way Ringo looked as he danced, the way George sheepishly would stub out his cigarette every time Maggie glared, and the way John had felt as he was pressed up against her. Maggie swallowed. It was one thing to fantasize, but it felt quite different to actually live it.

As the night ended, and the people slowly started to filter out, Maggie grew nervous. She gratefully slipped the coat that Ringo offered to her over her shoulders as her eyes searched the room for John. She didn't know why she looked for him. It wasn't like she could go back to his place, not with his wife there and especially not after everything that had happened. She saw him standing near Paul, the two of them deep in some sort of conversation.

"You're not driving home," John stated as they came nearer.

"Mal's takin' me," aul muttered slightly, swaying on his feet. Rubbing at his eyes fitfully, he glared at John as his friend caught him by the elbow before he fell. John didn't acknowledge it though, but instead gestured towards Maggie. Slowly, Paul's glazed eyes rolled over to her standing in the middle of the foyer and the frown that he usually could conceal while sober slipped into place. "'ere," he murmured, digging through his pockets before finding a lone key and tossing it to her. Maggie caught it in confusion, looking back up at both Paul and John with curious eyes. "I have a flat nearby. You can stay there tonight," he said slurring his words together.

Maggie looked at him with a bit of surprise. "Thank you." She said with a small and grateful smile. Paul only grunted in response before turning to John.

"You have to be back at the studio in five hours, John. You need to go straight home."

John smiled. "Yes, Mum."

"I mean it," Paul warned, stumbling out of the house with Mal by his side. "If you're not there tomorrow on time, I'm going to call your Aunt Mimi and tell her everything."

John narrowed his eyes playing along. "You wouldn't dare."

Paul snorted as he stumbled out the door, feeling a sense of comfort that despite the new threat in their lives, they could still joke. "Just try me, Lennon. Just try me."

Shaking his head as Paul pitched forward, Mal caught him on the way down, John waved goodbye. Turning his attention back at Maggie, his smile softened. She still had a look of shock on her face.

"What's wrong?"

Maggie shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just surprised that you were able to convince him to let me stay at his place in town."

John laughed. "I didn't convince him, luv. He all but demanded that you stayed there. He was quite adamant about it."

Maggie held in her flinch. Obviously Paul was trying to keep the two of them apart. She had assumed that John had convinced Paul to let her crash at his place, not thinking that Paul would be so kind to the girl that was, in Paul's mind, stealing away his friend. But Maggie was quickly learning that there was almost always a motive behind everything with Paul McCartney.

"Come on, luv," Ringo called, nudging at George to stub out his cigarette. "I'll drive you home. I live the closest to the flat." Maggie smiled at him in thanks, giving George a pointed look, and then turning back to John.

"Well, then," she said. "I guess this is goodnight."

John nodded. "I guess it is." Shifting from foot to foot, he shoved his hands in his pocket. "Did you want to maybe come to the studio tomorrow, try and figure out this whole future business in-between takes?"

Maggie grinned broadly. "I'd like that." And before things could go any further, before she could follow through with the urge to stand up on tip toe and kiss him goodnight, she quickly hooked arms with Ringo and walked out the front door.

* * *

A/N:

This is a complete story, so you won't be left hanging! We are planning on post approximately 2 chapters a week.

Also, we'd love to know what you think so far, so please drop us a line. :)