Hey guys! So I've finally gotten around to finishing up this chapter. I published this story in my account in archiveofourown as well, in hopes that I'll be more actively updating it. :) I hope you enjoy this one! It's a bit of a filler. R&R and all that ajzz
Chapter Six: Good Morning Good Morning
My vision came back in little shards, like bits of a jigsaw. A bright light. Pale blue walls. A big framed picture that seemed to be made of lots of photos. Paul...
...Why did it smell like Paul?
How did I even know what that smelled like?
Jerked out of my slumber by these unsettling thoughts, I sat up. Instantly everything started spinning and I clapped a hand to my forehead as a fresh spear of pain lanced through it. I had definitely drank far, far too much last night.
"Ah, the princess awakes," I heard a voice say sarcastically. John.
"Shut up." George appeared in front of me, waving a hand before my eyes as if he thought I was still drunk. "Feel any better, Abs?"
"No," I grunted, forcing myself to look around the room properly. The boy's sitting room was huge - it was more like a house in a single set of four walls. The middle was clustered with big plush sofas and piles of soft cushions. I seemed to be sprawled across one with a heavy blanket tucked over me and my head resting on an impossibly comfy pillow.
Shaking the unsettling memory of last night away, I threw my legs over the side of the sofa. "Did I… pass out?" A wave of embarrassment came over me. I never fainted. I never got drunk, let alone so intoxicated that I passed out in the street.
"It's just as well that I found you. You were out for the count." George frowned.
"How long have I been… here?" I asked, gesturing around the huge room, unable to find a suitable name for it.
"About… oh, 'bout 11 hours."
"WHAT?" I sat bolt upright, eyes widening. "No way. I never sleep that long."
"We have pretty comfy sofas," Ringo put in. I hadn't even noticed him, sitting on the opposite sofa alongside John.
"But..." I mumbled, blushing brightly. I had passed out, had been collected by George, and had then proceeded to spend almost half a day snoring on their coach. As first impressions after a long time go, I wasn't doing too great.
"Oi Paul, you can have your pillow back now," John called to the back of the room, and I felt my cheeks burn even brighter. Wonderful. So I had also stolen Paul's pillow. No wonder everything had smelled like him when I woke up.
Paul mumbled something from another room and then walked in. His hazel eyes softened when they fell on me. "'ou can still use it if you want, Abs. I have ten more in my room." He flopped down on on the sofa with John and Ringo, who were both watching the scene with interest. This certainly would be fun.
"Have you made breakfast yet?" I asked, my stomach growling with hunger. I grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah, we did, two hours ago," John scoffed. "It's one in the bloody 'fternoon already."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know Beatles were capable of waking up that early by themselves," I countered, flopping back down on my stomach.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about us, luv." John winked.
I rolled my eyes.
"For example," he continued, "Paulie has a habit of shaping his eyebrows when he gets nervous."
"Oi! Take that back!" Paul shouted, grabbing a nearby pillow and holding it over John threateningly.
"It's true," Ringo agreed innocently.
I groaned and covered my ears with Paul's pillow to muffle the sounds of a raging pillow fight, his wonderful aftershave and cigarette scent enveloping me...
No, I chided myself. Get up. I groaned and pulled myself away from the very inviting and warm pillow and sofa I had just spent the last eleven hours in. John and Paul had quickly ceased their pillow fight and had taken out their guitars. Together they were picking out something that didn't sound half bad. Ringo was beating along on the sofa's armrest, and George was sitting and observing as he smoked a cigarette, a serious look painted on his face. It was quite comical how in one second they could be doing something as childish as a pillow fight, and in the next they could be the most serious guys you'd ever meet.
I untangled myself from the blanket and ran a hand distractedly through my hair. I was almost glad there wasn't a mirror to look in, because it felt like I had spent the night in a hedge. I was in desperate need of a shower and my head was still thundering in a painful, steady tempo. Out of all the people that had to see me like this, I was parked in front of every single member of The Beatles. Fortunately the boys didn't seem all too bothered, but it didn't stop a soft flush from shooting across my cheeks. I hid my embarrassment by jumping up and walking towards the doorway. Food was the main priority for me right then since the only thing I'd had in my system for the past 18 hours was alcohol. It took me a moment to find the kitchen since there were so many rooms branching out from their hallway, but I finally stumbled into the right one. Making a beeline for the fridge, I opened it wide. An old jug of milk, two eggs, a bottle of orange juice, rotting apples and a few donuts greeted me. "Blegh," I coughed as the apples' smell wafted to my nose. Eggs seemed like the best way to go, so I grabbed the two remaining and the carton of milk and set to work.
By the time the Beatles had decided to find out what I was up to, my breakfast had just finished cooking.
Ringo entered first. "Mmm," he hummed. "That smells fab. Will there be any extras?" he politely inquired.
I chuckled as I grabbed a fork to dig in. "You can have a bite if you'd like." My concoction had ended up as two poached eggs, a glass of juice and a couple of donuts. It wasn't anything fancy, but the boys seemed constantly hungry.
Suddenly there were two more Beatles in the small kitchen. John and Paul had seemingly decided to race to the kitchen, and John being John had shoved Paul out of the way at the last second, sending him reeling into the counter where I was eating. He hit the marble and fell to the ground. John flopped into the room and knocked over my glass of juice as he put out his arms to steady himself. He looked down at the floor that was slowly becoming orange and then gave me a grin.
"Joohhnnn," I whined. "That was my juice. And look what you did to Paul."
John got to his feet and bowed. "My apologies miss, but that wanker deserved it."
I groaned as I tried to hold back my laughter. "Guard my food," I instructed Ringo as I went around the counter to help Paul, since it seemed like neither of them were planning on it. Paul was laying on the ground in a fetal position whimpering like a wounded dog. Immediately I felt a rush of concern for him. Oh please dear God let him be okay… I dropped to my knees in front of him. "Paul?" I coaxed hopefully.
Paul opened one of his eyes and broke into a smile. "Well 'ello there luv." He sat up and brushed his trousers off while I sat there in confusion.
"What… I thought you were actually hurt!" I stated incredulously. John and Ringo, who had been watching the whole thing, burst out laughing.
"'at's a good one!" John cackled.
Frowning, I turned back to Paul. He was still sitting there on the linoleum, grinning at me. "Sorry Abby, I just luv seeing yer face like that, all concerned-like."
"Jerk," I retorted playfully, trying to hide the fact that my heart had skipped a beat at his last comment. I crossed my arms across my chest with a 'hmmph.'
"Oh come 'ead, it was just a joke. 'M sorry," he said as he stood up in the soft voice of his that made you want to melt. He offered me his hand and reluctantly I accepted it. Instantly my hand was ultra-sensitive. His hand was warm, soft, and callused - but in a good way. I felt his muscles contract and pull me right up, surprising me. He'd evidently gotten fitter since the last time I'd seen him.
"Wot the bloody 'ell is goin' on?" a low voice asked. George appeared at the doorway, his thick eyebrows knit together in surprise.
"Er, nothing," I answered dumbly.
George peered around the counter. "There's orange juice on the floor," he commented helpfully.
John rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks mate, we woulda missed that if it weren't for you." He snatched a donut from my plate and gobbled it down while I glowered at him.
"John!" Ringo scolded. "This 'ere is Abby's food, and she needs it. You, on the other hand, don't."
"Are ye tryin' ta say I'm pudgy? Eh, Rings? I reckon ye've gone potty mate." As if to prove his point, John posed, showing off his stomach. "Ye'd be bloody blind ta call this anythin' other than beautiful." He fluttered his eyes.
I giggled as John paraded around the kitchen through the mess. Suddenly it dawned on me to check the time. "Hey, guys, is there a clock in here?"
Ringo pointed helpfully above the fridge. I whirled around, stuffing the last bite of egg into my mouth. "Shit!" It was well past 2pm, and I was supposed to be at work at five hours ago! With all the Beatlesque pandemonium and my excitement to reunite with the boys, I had completely forgotten about life's responsibilities. "I really need to get home," I sputtered, starting to feel panicked.
That got all the boys' attention. "We can get Mal to drive you back right away," Paul said helpfully, putting a hand on my arm in an attempt to calm me down. John exited the room in a search for a telephone, presumably to get ahold of their road manager. Ringo finished soaking up the spilled orange juice while George polished off the last donut.
I nodded. "Okay, thanks. I'm really sorry for the sudden rush, but today I was supposed to write a featured piece about the city's new city hall, and it's kinda a big deal for my boss," I explained.
"Mal's outside!" John shouted from the hallway.
Paul turned to me. "You're gonna do just maaavelous on that article, I know ya will," he smiled at me.
"Yeah, go show 'em who's boss," Ringo added. "Have a good day!"
Running my fingers through my hair for the millionth time, I made my way to the hallway and turned around one last time. "Thank you guys, for everything. I had a lot of fun last night. And thanks for putting up with my lightweightedness," I thanked bashfully.
"We'll catch you later?" Paul inquired, tilting his head slightly to one side. He was too cute for his own good.
"Yes, definitely," I promised.
"ABBY! Cor, if I didn't know any better I'd think you wanted to be even later."
"Coming, coming!" I did one final wave and dashed into the hallway and, once I found the door, I gave John a grateful smile and walked out the door.