#paul 'giggling like a teenage girl at her crush' mccartney

[sgtpeppers]

Get Back (2021) - Episode 2, Day 9: John making Paul laugh

[fkajohnlennon]

30 :3

This one got away from me! Enjoy <3

30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

By the time John was thirty, he already felt smothered by fame— a crushing weight on his chest, his ribs. A reality where he didn’t exist so much as himself, but as an idea. So fifty years on top of that? He’s a living legend now, and every person he happens to run into on the street reminds him of that. Paul thrives in the attention, he always did, but John? It wilts him, just a bit. Makes him weary in his old age.

It’s in a small town about an hour outside the city where he finds his reprieve. Initially, Paul had been on tour, and John needed something to do. He drove out to the record store he fancied, then stopped into one of the independent theaters on the avenue— a tiny thing with exposed brick and piping that looked more like a warehouse than anything. At the booth, a young woman with a nose ring snapped her gum, and he braced himself for recognition. 

Only…it never came. 

“New Order?” she asked as he approached, and he followed her eyes to the record peeking over its brown bag. He nodded, which she returned with a smile. It looked odd on her, like it wasn’t something her face was meant to do. She seemed to realize this and her smile fell, resetting to something more neutral, something with a teenage-angst lean. 

He comes back after that, and it’s after the third visit that he realizes the ticket girl isn’t faking it– she really doesn’t recognize him. None of the Gen Z staff of the theater seem to. He chats with her a bit more each time, things about music and art and eventually life. 

He’s lost count of his visits when he slips one day. “My husband is back in town, and—” 

Her eyes brighten, darting from his left hand and up to his face. “You’re married?” 

Shit. 

Thankfully, the girl moves on quickly, and their conversation sways from John’s love life to her band, and their new drummer whom she fancies. Unfortunately, the poor bloke doesn't get the hint— boys could be so stupid.

A few weeks pass, and it’s a slow day when John invites Paul to the theater with him. Paul takes a minute to think— bloody eighty years old and still nowhere close to being retired, the maniac— but in the end he agrees. John’s forgotten to be nervous about them going out until he sees the look on the ticket girl’s face.

“Afternoon, John,” she smiles, the bright thing now more at home on her face. She looks to Paul, examining for a brief, heart-wrenching moment before asking, “And is this your husband?” 

Really, John could melt right there.

“Your husband?” Paul whispers, once they’re in the darkened theater. It’s punctuated by a giggle, making him sound much younger than he actually is. “Didn’t know we were going steady like that.”

“What would you call this?” John asks, looking around the empty theater, “Charity?”

Paul scrunches his nose at him, “A fling, maybe? Not sure how long it will last if I’m being honest. Maybe we should give it a few more years.”

John flicks a piece of popcorn at him. “You want to be Paul Lennon, then?”

“Mmmm, I think John McCartney sounds better.”

John rolls his eyes. “Right. So, when and where?” he tries to ignore the fluttering in his chest. It’s all just for a laugh, Paul would never want to be married again. Not when whatever they had was going so well, so—

“Think we could have something arranged by June? The girls would kill me if we eloped without telling them. Can you imagine?”

“Don’t think you would survive that one, mate.”

Paul nods. “Right. So, June?”

“Sounds as good a time as any,” he shrugs, but his hand makes its way to Paul’s own, squeezing it tight. 

“Right, well— should I still play the role of your husband until then? Paul asks the dark, right as the screen begins to roll the commercials.

The bright, blooming sensation in John’s chest expands, until he feels like he might be glowing in the low light. “Don’t think you’ve ever not been, dear,” and he brings Paul’s hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it.

[loudsuitlover]

Stop at Abbey Road

A/N: This is a request from a very lovely anon with an amazing taste in music ;) Hope you like it love! 

Anon request: Hiii love!! I was wondering if I could request something where h finds some of the readers beatles collection 😅 I’m a HUGE fangirl and have loved them since I was little. They mean so much to me along with harry and I think he’d be cute about it and giggle 😂 maybe he takes her to meet Paul or something? Xoxoxo 

It had all started two weeks before when you had driven all the way to your parents’ house, where you grew up and which still had a fair amount of your heart. Granted, nowadays- as in this very moment- if you had to think about home, the place where external things didn’t matter because you closed the door an a safe feeling of comfort and belonging embraced you, well that would be wherever Harry was, and at the moment that was London; but still every time you visited your mum and dad, you got a big grin and a heart full of memories. 

And that night he had dinner with your parents for the very first time, he had also got to see your old room, the one you had played in when you were 8, the one where you had cried your first heartbreak, the one where you had hidden from the world in those strange teenage years. 

“So this is where you grew up, eh?” 

He had asked as he walked around your room, having a look at the books you kept on your shelves, the photos, for he wanted to see it all, to know as much as possible, and at the same time he was damning time for haven’t brought you two together sooner so he could have seen it with his own eyes. 

“Oh.” He said giving you a smirk when he spotted the old record player you still had on the corner of your room. “A retro queen since you were just a girl, I see.” He joked and you rolled your eyes. 

“It was my dad’s.” You smiled. “He gave it to me once I got mad at him for ruining my first date with Ashton Steven. I had had a huge crush on him since freshman year.” 

“Your dad’s on my team.” He smiled. “Good man.” 

You chuckled and rolled your eyes again. 

“Which kind of music did you listen to? Apart from One Direction of course.” 

He joked as he looked right behind the record player, where all your albums were catching some dust. 

“The Beatles.” He grinned. “See? We were soulmates even when we were teenagers. God I wish I knew you!” He shook his head, unaware of how cute what he said was and you wrapped your arms around his waist, placing your face against his shoulder. 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” You asked, biting your lip sheepishly as he turned around and placed your arms around his neck. 

“No.” 

He grinned, both dimples out, and you rolled your eyes, walking out of his grasp and opening your closet door. As soon as you did, every single book, movie, photo albums, pictures and posters you had of The Beatles came in clear sight and he stood there amused and agape as you blushed away. 

“You were a proper stalker.” He joked and you pushed him playfully as he laughed until he grasped your wrists. “Hey, I’m just teasing you!” He smiled. 

“Beatlemania was a thing.” You defended yourself. “If it happened to half the population with functioning ears in the 60s why wouldn’t it happen to me?” 

“But you even did a mural.” 

He grinned as he took the big sign you had made when you were about fourteen about anything and everything you could think about The Beatles. 

“I mean I wish you’d do one of this about my music. This is amazing.” He frowned, still looking at it. 

“I’m going to regret this.” 

You bemoaned as you walked towards the closet, getting out the big scrapbook book you had made about Paul McCartney. You opened it in your bed and started showing him the things you had put in there. It was mostly interesting quotes he had said in some interviews, or things other artists had said about him, some of his lyrics, some photos... It was actually a really good job and he kept urging you to tell him when you started feeling embarrassed at first, trying to play it down but he sat down on your bed and made you sat down next to him, and he opened the book on his thighs, letting you tell every page story. 

The book was really great, yet he kept finding himself staring at you because he had never seen you this excited, your eyes were shining as they did when you watched him perform, and he couldn’t get enough of the way your features would accompany every word you were saying, emphasising them, captivating him. 

“So yeah he was like the love of my life.” You smiled and looked up at him, catching him staring at you with a smirk. 

“Was?” 

You hadn’t said I love you yet, but it was clear with everything you did, and everything you said, and yet it was still exciting to hear you even suggest that. 

“Was.” You smiled and he leaned in to capture your lips with his. 

Even though your mum had made the guest room’s bed for him, he still sneaked out and stayed in your bed after he had made love to you, so he woke up in the morning to your sleeping face on the crook of his neck. It was as if it hadn’t come to mind before but then he almost felt stupid. He grabbed his phone from your bedside table and sent a text. 

Paul called him back later that day and he had walked to the porch, leaving you and your mum to finish making the tea, as he agreed with Paul the two of you would go to the studio two weeks later so you could meet him. 

So then two weeks after that, Harry was all giddy at your appartment, acting like a five years old as he tried so hard not to ruin the surprise. Surprinsingly, he had managed to hold it in for two weeks straight, even though he was the worst secret keeper of all times and now he felt as if the words were going to leave his lips against his will so he kept rushing you towards the door as you shook your head and chuckled. 

“What’s going on with you today, H?” 

“We’re just gonna be late for our lunch reservation.” He lied.

“Okay, okay! Jesus!” You chuckled. 

He bit on his bottom lip as he drove and you smiled at him when you played his own songs on the car. He smiled but nodded for he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t listen to his own songs in front of you. 

“Shit.” He said. “I forgot to pick up Jeff’s invitation from the studio.” He lied. “Do you mind if we stop there for a minute baby?” 

“You mean stopping at Abbey Road? Now that you know I’m a fangirl I don’t have to play it cool anymore.” You shrugged. “So YES!” 

He laughed as he took a turn towards Abbey Road and you chuckled with him, looking at his hand on your thigh as he tried to bite down his grin. You were going to lose it. He held your hand as he made his way inside the studio, stealing glances at you every two seconds until he opened the door and stopped at the top of the stairs, still holding your hand as you brought your other one to your mouth. You looked at him with eyes wide opened and he threw his head back and laughed out loud as you looked back at Sir Paul McCartney who was there singing as if you were even cool enough to be there. 

“Jesus Christ.” You whispered as Harry kept laughing, wrapping his arms around you from the back and pulling you to his chest. 

“Surprise baby.” He whispered. “You wanna go down meet him?” 

“You think he’d talk to us?” You whispered making him laugh harder. 

“Come on, pet.” He grinned, holding your hand and walking down the stairs, smiling at sir Paul as he approached the two of you. 

“Hello, Harry! It’s very nice to see you.” He smiled, like genuinely smiled and you had never felt more startstruck in your enitre life. 

“Hello, you must be Y/N.” He grinned, offering you his hand. “Harry told me you liked our music.” 

“I think I’m gonna cry.” You blurted out, not moving and yet your eyes fully focused on him as if you were scared. 

Both Harry and Paul started laughing and you got closer to Harry’s side, as if silently asking him for protection. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, whispering so cute before he turned to talk to Paul. They showed you around and Paul showed you a couple of songs he was working on. It took you good twenty minutes to grow used to it enough so you could talk back to him but when you did, you realized you couldn’t possibly be happier. Your dad called at least twenty times the second after you sent him your picture with Paul McCartney but not once did you even think about answering his call. You loved your dad, more than you could even being to say, but this was Sir Paul McCartney you were talking about. He’d understand. 

Two hours later you were sitting on the coach at Harry’s house and he hadn’t stopped grinning the whole time. Not during lunch when you had ranted about how much it had meant to you and how much you appreciated what he had did for you and not now, as he placed the cup of tea in front of you. 

“You really are an angel.” You said and he shook his head as he chuckled. 

“I am not. I just lo-” 

Yet he stopped there and he looked up at you- he didnt want to overwhelm you- and he smiled and took a seat on the couch, taking his own cup of tea to his lips so he could hide the blush on his cheeks. 

“I love you.” You blurted out as you felt your heart beating faster than ever and he directed his green eyes to you, his cup of tea still close to his lips. “And I’m not just saying that because you’ve introduced me to Paul. I loved you before that happened. I’ve loved you for a while now.” You bit your bottom lip as he grinned, placing his cup of tea on the table. 

“Well come here!” He patted his lap and you sheepishly straddled him before he placed his finger under your chin, lifting your face so you would look into his green, excited eyes. “I love you too.”