Chapter 4

A/N: You already knoww. We got some more tea for y'all

The next morning I woke up and saw George still asleep. I decided to wake him up because he had an important interview to go to today. I crawled out of bed and gently started shaking him.

"Wake up George."

"Ugh, no."

"Yes. You have an interview today sweetie."

"Oh shite. I forgot about that," he mumbled, turning his face into the pillow.

"Acourse you did. Now get out of bed and i'll fix you some breaky ok?"

"Alright. I love you."

I hesitated for a split second, but I knew that I had to say it back. "Love you too, Georgie."

When I called him that my mind flashed back to what John said the night before. "Poor Georgie. He never did well in that area, didn't he?" I shouldn't be thinking about that right now. I just have to make breakfast. It isn't that hard.

I walked over to the kitchen and decided to make pancakes, toast, bacon, and eggs. This was the norm for George. For a skinny guy he sure could eat. It's a shame that he can't eat...nevermind. I mixed up the pancake batter poured it into a pan. Then, I put the eggs and bacon in a pan. After a few minutes everything was done, so I put it on the table and called George for breakfast. He walked out of the bedroom wearing his suit and with his hair combed.

"Everything looks wonderful darling!"

"Anything for you, baby."

We ate our breakfasts, finished up getting ready and headed out the door. I walked up to the passenger side of the door and George opened the door for me. I smiled at him and sat in the seat. He shut the door and sat in the driver's seat and began to drive to the place that the interview was being held.

When we walked into the building George was immediately swept away with the rest of the Beatles into hair and makeup. And I was swept into a reserved seat in the front row next to Maureen and Jane. If John was in a relationship his girlfriend or wife would've been here too. But he can't keep it in his pants. And to be honest neither can Paul. I guess I'm guilty too. Does that mean I count as a girlfriend/wife for John and George? If so, that means all the Beatles have girls and that they're all here to support the supposed loves of their lives.

After about twenty minutes of chatting with the girls the interview begins.

"Alright boys, let's start with a question that your fans practically begged us to ask. What kind of girls do you like? George?"

"My wife."

"Oh yeah. I forgot your married now! Well what kind of girl is your wife?"

"Um...A nice girl? I suppose she's a nice girl. She's nice to me. She cooks me a lot of food so that's good."

"That's lovely. How about you John? What kind of girls do you like?"

"George's wife."

George blushed bright red and forced himself to laugh. "...Nobody likes a smart aleck."

"Your wife does."

"That's enough John!" I practically yelled.

My outburst caused the reporter to turn towards me. "Ah, George, your wife is with us today. Do you mind if we ask her some questions?"

"That's really up to her..." George said, still blushing a bit.

"Well what do you say?" The interviewer said.

"Why not?" I replied. I figured I should probably try to clear the air and comfort George.

"Alright then, come on up here."

I headed up to the stage and asked "where should I sit?"

"Ye can sit on me lap luv." John said, looking as smug as ever.

"There's no need for that John, we'll just pull up a chair for her."

He pulled a chair over for me and put it in between John and George. Of course. Regardless, I sat down.

"So how was the wedding?"

"It was absolutely lovely."

"How's married life?"

"Well, we've only been married for a short while, but so far it's amazing! I love George and I couldn't ask for a better husband."

Everyone in the audience awed and John just rolled his eyes.

"Final question, do you know why John is acting like this? It seems like he's pursuing you..."

"Pursuing her? Are you joking?" George blurted out before I got a chance to respond.

"Well the things he's saying are quite suggestive," the reporter replied.

"John flirts with anything that breathes. It doesn't mean anything," George said, quoting me.

"I do not. Ye don't see me flirtin with me cats do ye?"

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?" George yelled.

Holy shit. He finally snapped. I really wish I wasn't in the middle of this. Literally.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" John said getting out of his chair.

The interviewer looked frozen. The audience seemed to be enjoying this. Paul and Ringo were staring at John, afraid of what he might do.

George stood up, walked towards John, and said "I said-"

"I heard what you said you bastard! And if you say anything like that again I'll have you out of the band," John said nudging George.

"Don't touch me! You can't kick me out of the band. I'm a better guitar player than you'll ever be" George said nudging John back.

"Alright, that's it." John pushed George to the ground and got on top of him.

"Fuck. You." John said. And with that, he punched George in the cheek. George was stunned, but he slapped John across the face.

"Is that all you got you pussy?" John spat while getting ready to land another punch.

But before he could I pulled John off of George and began to drag him to his dressing room. He was desperately trying to throw kicks and punches, but I was not going to let go. As I was dragging him away I saw Paul and Ringo kneel next to George and examine his injuries. Finally, I got John into his dressing room and locked the door. I sat him down.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked.

"He insulted me."

"You were flirting with me."

"And you've locked yourself in my dressing room with me instead of helping George. What's he gonna think?"

"I don't know. But let's get you healed up."

"I'm fine."

"You punched George's sharp-ass cheekbone. There's no way your hand is fine."

"Okay. Fine. Maybe it stings a bit. But my cheek stings more. Damn he can slap. He slaps harder than any of the birds around here."

"Well he's a man. Also, how many birds have you been slapped by in order to make that comparison?" I said wiping his fist and giving him an ice pack to put on it.

"A man? Barely. And I've been slapped by quite a few. Don't think I can even count that high."

"Well, Lennon, just keep it in mind that I slap harder than any of the birds around here too," I said handing him another ice pack for his cheek.

"Really? I'll keep that in mind. And exactly how many birds have you been slapped by in order to make that comparison?"

"Quite a few. Higher than I can count. But I slapped back. Harder."

"That's hot."

"No it's not. How are you feeling?" "I actually feel fine now. I don't feel the stinging anymore. I'm just cold. Maybe you could warm me up?"

I glanced toward the door, despite the fact it was locked.

"We shouldn't," I said softly, but knowing I wanted to.

"That hasn't stopped me," John grinned, and pressed his mouth to mine. He threw the ice pack on the floor and pulled me into him. John was pressed against the wall.

Panting softly, John moved his mouth to my neck, pressing kisses down it.

"Don't leave a mark." I was breathless. When he nipped lightly, I pulled his hair. His whole body stiffened and realized he was already hard. Good. We could go faster that way. George would kill us both if he - no point in thinking about that now.

John's fingers pressed into my back, trying to locate the zipper of my dress. "Wait," he said. "Shouldn't you be against that wall?"

I smiled and let him gently push me back.

"Hurry up, love," I said, undoing his belt.

"Fine. I bet I can get you to cum fast anyway."

"You're not that good."

"Better than you've had in a while, though. I mean, if we're talking about George-"

I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. Hard. It was like I'd turned on a switch. He moaned, honest to god moaned, and started to grind shakily against me.

"Didn't think you were vocal, Lennon. Learn something new every day." I pulled my panties down and wrapped my legs around John, who was now naked from the waist down. Kissing his neck. I felt him thrust into me.

"Fast, remember?"

"Quit whinin," John grumbled, but set a hard, steady pace. I gripped his coat like my lifeline and trying to muffle my sounds.

"Are you close?" He sounded smug.

I didn't answer. John continued. "Wouldn't want Georgie to catch us, would we? I wonder what he would do if he came in here and saw me making you feel good." It was like a weight in my stomach dropped. I didn't know I was into dirty talking. "Bet he's never been able to make you make these noises before. You look so pretty like this, love."

"John, John!" I gasped out his name.

"Say my fucking name," he hissed.

"John!" I nearly yelled, blissed out and not caring if anyone heard.

"Fuck, baby, I'm so close..." his breath hitched and he thrusted harder.

I saw stars. Moaned his name out, I came, shuddering.

John fucked me through my orgasm until he finished too. Calmly now, he pulled out. I pecked his lips and pulled back up my panties.

"Fix your pants. And your hair is a mess." I stepped out of the dressing room, smoothing my hair with my palm.

The stage seemed calmer when I walked back out. Ringo was telling the interviewer a bad pun and Paul was laughing. George seemed to be more relaxed too. I sat down.

"Where's John?" Paul asked.

"Still calming down," I lied. It didn't matter. John was known for his long lasting temper anyway. "I tried to talk to him, but it didn't help. Are you ok, Georgie?"

"I'm ok. John didn't hit me too hard."

"That's good." I kissed him quickly and returned to my seat for the remainder of the interview. John came back a little later and winked at me.