the beatles smut

george pt. 7

***fluff ***

i'm up before george is, and although i truly want to stay and sleep in with him, i figure i could make him breakfast or something sweet like that.  so, albeit grudgingly, i untangle myself from the kind warmth of  his grasp and shuffle to the washroom. 

after cleaning up a bit i find one of his button ups to wear. i'm sure he won't mind me borrowing it. i think.  it fits me like a dress and smells wonderful, like smoke and sugar and sweat. 

i make him a solid breakfast-- coffee, eggs, pancakes, the whole 9 yards. although i fancy myself a fairly good chef, none of it sounds appetizing to me, so i opt to brew myself a cup of tea instead.

***GEORGES POV***

i wake to the clang of silverware and the smells of breakfast, immediately noticing that april was no longer curled up in my arms. i slowly sit up, taking time to stretch and yawn and push my hair out of my face. 

while i wash up i hear her humming faintly in the kitchen. i can't help but smile. i guess she's made herself right at home then. good. i think. i hope she's comfortable with me, with my house. 

when i enter the kitchen i find april with her back turned to me, nursing a cup of tea and gazing out the window. she looks beautiful, her eyes lost in thought and her hair all a mess. she wears my favorite dress shirt, (of course she picks that one) the hem of it nearly reaching her knees. 

"good moring." my words startle her, like most things do. 

"oh, george i didn't hear you come in! i've made you breakfast." she gestures to the almost comically full plate on the table. i hadn't even noticed it at first. 

"ah! thank you, darling! you really didn't have to!" i sit at the table, now admittedly quite excited for the food. 

"but i wanted to!" she exclaims, sliding into the chair next to me.

i start to dig in, and then it dawns on me. 

"what, you already eat?" 

her faces falls at my question.  "erm, no, just not hungry i guess." 

i nod slowly, chewing. "and uh. just out of curiosity. when's the last time you were hungry?"

she seems to really think about it, little lines form on her forehead as she searches her mind.

"i guess... i guess it's been a while, yeah." she looks at me with pleading eyes. "but i'm fine george, really. i know how to take care of myself, it's just--"

"just what." i snap, impatient. i immediately regret it when i see the fear flash in her eyes, though. i just hate to see her not taking care of herself, that's all. 

she swallows hard. "well i guess my brain is a little too preoccupied to think about... food and such." she is looking anywhere but my eyes. "i'm just... well i'm always--- scared. i guess."

i keep a steady gaze. when she meets it, i nod for her to continue. 

"scared of my dad, y'know? finding me. or just the memories sometimes, i guess. i remember the night i left home--" she pauses, getting choked up. i wanted to take her into my arms right then, but instead i reach over to hold her hand. 

"that was when it was at its worst. and i..." she takes a shaky breath."i remember at one point he sort of knocked me over so i was laying on the floor and--" tears well up in her eyes. i stroke her hand as soft as i could manage, although my blood was boiling. 

"he started to erm--  kick me. in the stomach, y'know? and ribs and such. and he kept screaming like, 'you're nothing!'" she is fully crying now. "i don't remember much from that night but i uhm. i remember that. i remember i thinking he was right for once, y'know? cuz i felt like nothing right then, i really did. less than nothing." 

i abruptly stand up, turning away. the image of that was too much for me. just too much. i could see her all curled up and begging for help... so sickening. i clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to swallow the nausea. i could've killed that monster of a father. 

"george!" she squeaks, forming my name into an almost animal cry of pain. "i'm so sorry-- i didn't mean to say all that! i just meant i get lost in my head sometimes. i'll do better! i-- i am doing better!" 

i cut off her rambling by swiftly spinning around and picking her up off the chair. she was so light but i tried not to think about it. was she this small the last time i picked her up?

i sit on the floor of the kitchen, careful to keep her steady as i do. she ends up cradled in my arms like a babe; her bum between my legs, her hands clasped behind my neck. i keep one arm wrapped around her back and the other under her bent knees. 

"you are not nothing." i whisper. "you're-- you mean so much to me. and so many other people. you can make damn near anyone laugh and april! april honey you're so talented. you stun me every day by just existing." i'm trying very hard not to cry. 

she wraps her arms around my torso in a tight embrace, shifting so i can hug her back. she's crying into my chest and i'm racking my brain for something to make her feel better. all i can come up with is "my baby, my baby." i repeat the words, hoping they convey what i'm feeling. i rub her back, trying to soothe out her tremors. 

"geo, he's gonna find me. i know he will, he said he would. and i--" she is interrupted by my arms tensing, pulling her closer to me. "i can't fight him george, he'll win. he always did." 

"you know i won't let that happen." and i mean it, too. 

she leans back a bit and peers up at me, hiccuping. "don't let go of me, please d-- george."

she returns her head to my chest, nuzzing in so that i can't see the embarrassment on her face. 

"daddy's got ya." i whisper, just loud enough that she could hear.