A/N: Yeah, it's been a while, I know. Sorry! I haven't had much chance to get on the computer lately and I've been busy with high school D: But here's a quick little oneshot filled with adorable RP goodness :3
Bzzzt. Bzzzzzt. BZZZZZZZT!
The long, callused finger repeatedly abused the poor doorbell, the boot tapping impatiently. The brow furrowed in it's usual frustrated scowl, and the hand continued hammering on the door.
Oh, how John despised waiting.
You see, this waiting game wouldn't be near as irksome if there hadn't been a squirming young child that he had to hold hands with. Or if it weren't so damned cold out. Or if the squirming young child would quit yanking on his pant leg. Or, better yet, if the person he was waiting for wasn't Paul McCartney. Now that would make it all so much easier. Paul thoroughly enjoyed causing John as much frustration as possible. He always had through those long fourteen years they'd known each other. John had held onto the slim chance that they'd both mature once they each had families to take care of, but he had no such luck. But then again, had John changed, either? Not at all, actually.
This was why, even when the hand stopped knocking and the poor, abused doorbell finally got a rest, the brow stayed frowning and the boot still tapping.
"Ow!" he hissed quietly, the small, sharp pain coming from his foot. A kick had interrupted its intent rhythm. He stole his glare from the door, instead aiming it at his wife, who didn't even bother to hide her devilish smirk.
"Oops," she grinned, hoisting their sleeping three-year old, Blake, into a better hold.
"Daddy!" their older son, Jude, whined. "When're we gonna see Chelle-belle?" He pouted, yanking on John's trousers yet again.
"We'll see your little girlfriend soon enough," John snapped, adding in an aggravated breath, "once her damned father opens up the bloody door!"
"Judey's got a giiiiiirlfriiiieeend!" Prudence teased, not missing the light blush creeping up on her twin's cheeks.
"Shaddup!" Jude stomped his feet for emphasis. "Daddy! Pru's being—"
Their cries were (thankfully) put to rest by a similar shriek, this one coming from behind the door. "Juuuuudeyyyyyyy!" Small, hurried footsteps pattered closer with the voice, and Jude quickly snapped out of his brat-mode, starting to bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet. "Who isssss ittttt?" the youthful voice sang from inside the home.
Cue another squeal of delight. "Who else?"
"It's your Uncle John, love," he piped up. "Now be a good girl and open—"
"Daddy says not to open the door for strangersss…"
"But I'm not a stranger, lovey. I'm your Uncle—"
"But Mummy said so, too!"
"Now, Michelle, open the door—"
John clenched his free hand, annoyance coursing through him. "Michelle Rose McCartney, you open this door—"
"But—" he heard her start.
The pout on her face was nearly audible in the whimper she gave.
"Michelle, love?" his wife called from over his shoulder. "It's Auntie Sarah."
"Auntie Sarah?" The spark was back in her voice.
"Mmhm," she confirmed. "Will ya please open the door, honey?"
"But I dunno an Uncle John…"
"Yeah ya do, Chelley."
The evil smile came back, spreading from cheek to cheek. "He's your Uncle Doofus."
"Uncle Doofus! ?" Suddenly the door was thrown open, surprisingly powerful for the six-year-old. Arms quickly fixed themselves around John's leg. "Hiiii Uncle Doofus!"
A small sigh escaped past John's lips. "'Ey, Chelle."
The girl giggled and pulled away, running back into the house with the twins at her heels. "Mummmmmmyyyyy! Uncle Doofus is heeeeerrreeeeee!"
John ran a tired hand over his face. "That girl'll be the death o' me one day, I swear…"
"Oh, shut it and come inside." Sarah grabbed his hand, practically dragging him in.
A soft humming came from the kitchen, accompanied by some delicious scent John was too lazy to recognise. Soon the source of the humming made her appearance, stepping out of the kitchen with Prudence in her arms. "Hey, guys."
"Ey, Mandy." They replied in unison, both plopping dow on the loveseat. John smiled softly at the large blue eyes peering out from behind Mandy's skirt. "Hi Des…" The toddler re-hid his face, possible the only shy McCartney in existence.
"C'mon, hun," Mandy cooed, coaxing him away from her and toward John's awaiting arms. "Go see your Uncle Johnny." The boy stared up at her quizzically and Pru giggled.
"She means Doofus!" Of course. Betrayed by his own daughter. How fitting.
Recognition lit up Desmond's face as he clumsily stumbled over and reached for John. "Up!"
John chuckled softly, acknowledging the two-year-old's request. "And how's my li'l Macca?"
"Me good!" he beamed playing with John's glasses.
Each head snapped around to face the origin of the command, gaping as the large sheepdog galloped past with the little girl on its back. Squeals and excited giggles bubbled from the small child as the gigantic fluffball barreled through the living room, her father quickly in it's wake.
In one swift motion, Mandy set Prudence on the floor and scooped up Julia in her arms. The English sheepdog skidded to a halt, looking guiltily up at her master. Paul sighed and looked over at his wife. "How dya do that?"
"Having ta deal with you boys for seven years teaches a girl how ta act quickly," she winked, placing Julia in John's lap next to Desmond, leaving Pru to run off and find her brother. How twins could be so completely different, John didn't know or understand. At least Pru and Jude acted alike.
"…Love?" Paul broke the small silence after some time.
As if on cue, laughter erupted upstairs and they both followed the sound. John and Sarah listened to hear what would come next, anticipating disaster, knowing the McCartneys. Their assumptions were confirmed as a shriek flew down the stairs. "Michelle!"
Anyone could hear Paul's groan from miles away. "Would would you do this to your brother?"
Sarah and John's eyes met, eyebrows raised in question.
"But he's pretty!" Pru wailed.
"Oh, god…" Sarah muttered. "What've they done this time?"
her question was soon answered as they re-emerged, Michelle, the Lennon twins, and the missing James in tow. At least, John assumed it was James. The girls and Jude had done quite a job of disguising the younger boy, caking him in his mother's makeup and Michelle's bows.
"Isn't he pretty, Uncle Doofus?"
John turned to the voice, seeing Chelle pouting up at him.
"Um…well…" he stammered, trying not to hurt the little girl's feelings.
"Michelle, quit bothering your uncle!" Mandy scolded, snatching her daughter's hand. "You're in trouble, remember?" Despair flowed over the girl's face.
"No buts. Unless it's yours going to your room."
"WAIT!" she screamed. "We did it for you!"
Mandy's eyebrow rose, confused. "Oh? Whaddya mean?"
Jude spoke up. "Everybodies always say how Jamie looks like Uncle Paulie, and-"
"-and Daddy say Uncle Paulie looks like a girl!" Prudence finished.
"We wanted ta show ya, Mummy!" Michelle looked up at her pleadingly.
All at once, Paul's cheeks burned in embarrassment, Sarah burst into laughter, Mandy covered her mouth to contain herself, and John shot Pru another glare. Ratted out. Again.
"I-is that so?" Sarah choked out between fits of giggles.
"Mmhm!" all three nodded. "It's true!"
Mandy grabbed James from Paul's arms, taking him to the kitchen. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, then. We don need any more proof on your father's behalf."
The four-year-old simply nodded. "Otay, Ma."
John triumphantly smirked up at Paul. "They're right, ya know, Paula."
"Shut up, doofus."