the beatles smut

john pt. 5

the throbbing pain coming from my ribs wakes me. i rub the sleep from my eyes and suck the funny feeling from my teeth. then, slowly, wincing, i sit up. 

i sit alone now on the once crowded couch, wrapped in a blanket that wasn't there when i drifted to sleep. the scent of breakfast and cigarette smoke wafted to me. i could hear deep voices conversing but my brain was still too asleep to process their words.

i soon leave the warmth of the blanket and shuffle to the kitchen. 

john grins when he sees me."by god, she's alive!" he exclaims, tossing food into his mouth. 

i giggle and run my hand through my hair, untangling it. 

"how ya feelin'?" george asks from the table. 

why lie, i think.  "y'know, i've been better." i pause a beat, looking around. "where's ringo? and paul?" 

"ringo went home last night and paul just left." george replies. he's too focused on his plate to look at me when he asks "want something to eat?" 

"did you just... offer food that isn't from your fridge?" john sasses. 

"what, you don't want her to have any?"

"no, i just wanted to be the one to offer it, shithead." he turns to me. "want something to eat?"

i laugh, but my stomach flips over at the thought of food."no thanks, i'm not particularly hungry. but--" i sit next to george. "i'll take a cigarette if you've got one." 

george hands me one from his pack and lights it for me. i inhale deeply and lean back as i exhale, relaxing.

"coffee?" john's already getting a mug out. 

"sure." i let the cigarette hang off the edge of my lip and take in the room around me. the kitchen was small but kind, a welcome change compared to the cold and hard rooms i was used to. i watch john pour coffee into a chipped off-white mug, the steam from it rising and blending with the smoke that already permeates the air. a green, slightly wilted plant sits in the windowsill. i once again get that warm feeling in my chest, an ache of sorts, but a good feeling nonetheless. i glance right and realize that george has been observing me. 

i take the cigarette from my lips and ash it, shyly returning his gaze."what?"

"it's good to see you smiling, that's all." his eyes crinkle at the sides when he says it, and i can tell that he really means it.

john walks over with two mugs and sits on my other side, placing one in front of me and leaving the other close to his hand. 

"you look a lot better today, love, really." 

"i feel a lot better too" i say softly. 

"yeah?" says george. "that's great. you had us worried for a while, crying in your sleep and such."

i feel the hot flame of humiliation burn my cheeks. "i cried in my sleep?" 

"you spoke too." says john, grimacing. 

"oh, christ. what did i say?" i look at george, trying not to sound embarrassed. 

george clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. "just-- y'know. it sorta sounded like you were still at your dad's house. i mean, in uh-- your head or dream or whatever."

i nodded slowly. i don't remember my dreams very often. "oh."

"yeah." he continued. "begging for him not to hurt you. and-- erm. and also reggie?"

"my dog." i say quickly, looking down. 

"well there was that and then you kept saying like 'please hold me' even though i already was." says john. "you woke a few times i think, don't you remember? paul and george were there too."

"oh my god, that's-- i'm so sorry. i don't remember any of that. did you guys get any sleep?"

"oh don't apologize love! you have nothing to be sorry for." john takes my free hand. "you settled down eventually. george slept in the chair and i dozed off a bit too. i dunno about paul though. he's still quite worried about it."

"oh, no" i groan, horrified. "i'm fine now, really. it was just a bad dream, i don't even remember it!" 

george and john exchange a look but don't say anything. 

"what? i'm perfectly alright, see?" i stand up and do a silly little spin, ignoring the white flashes of pain. 

they both laugh but i'm left with the feeling that they didn't quite believe me. 

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