Yesterday & Today (The Beatles FanFiction)

Ticket To Ride

I must be dreaming. All I could do is stare at him and contemplate my reality. I heard a buzzing sound and then a man with a more proper accent then Paul's, talked over some kind of speaker.

"Paul, what was that?" Paul put a hand up towards the voice.

"Hold on a second ," Paul leaned down to be more at my level. I looked around and noticed a bunch of wires, amps and instruments. I assumed that I was in the middle of the Abbey Road recording studio and the more I thought about it, the more familiar the studio looked. I slowly sat up, I was at about eye level with Paul. I looked into his puppy dog eyes and he put a hand to my cheek, I was shocked by the warmth it brought, it felt too real. I could even make out the roughness of the tips of his fingers on his right hand. Way too real. I still was certain I had to be dreaming, so I discretely dug my thumbnail into the side of my index finger. I pushed until I could no longer be in denial from the realistic pain I felt in my hand. The more cliche dream tests I tried the closer I was to believing I was not dreaming. One last shot, I thought to myself. I quickly put my hand to the one Paul had resting on my cheek. He was real. I finally broke myself from his gaze and I attempted to collect myself, from one of two things, the one of course being that Paul McCartney was touching me and secondly I had just travelled in time. I pondered at which thought was more exciting.

" I am so sorry I interrupted your song Sir," Shit, he's not even knighted yet! Oh well, he'lI just think I am being formal. I knew he was all to used to the whole "out of breath, screamy fangirl thing," and I wasn't about to be put on their level by any means. I tried to get up, and he offered the hand that once held my cheek.

"No don't worry it's fine, we've had it like twelve takes ago," he assured. I grabbed his hand and got up of the ground to notice that I was in fact in Abbey Road recording studio and also a window standing across from an irritated looking man on the other side of the glass that I recognised as George Martin. He looked at me with a look that directly said, "Who the hell are you?" and with that I waved and smiled pleasantly before he got up and left. Paul chuckled.

"Sorry Miss, but if you don't mind me smothering you with questions, I have a few, but first off..." he bowed, grabbed my hand with the classic wink.

"I am Paul McCartney, and If you would be so kind in telling me who you are my love?"

"Yes, right I am Charlotte Abbey, a real pleasure to meet you Paul," he released my hand and I let him carry on with his questions.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine, and may I ask what you are wearing?" I looked down and fully took in my outfit choice of the day, I was very a pair off faded skinny jeans with a lacy tank top, partially covered by my brown tweed blazer with a classic pair of leather chelsea boots, quite like the ones he was wearing. 

"Clothes Mr. McCartney I am wearing clothes, next question, that one was a little disappointing and I had such high hopes for you," I teased which made him smile.

"Alright, well then how did you appear right out of thin air?" he asked in a obviously over staged whisper,

"See, I would have thought that one would have been your first question, well to be honest I..." and before I could finish a the door closest to us flung open, it was someone I never thought it even would be possible to get the chance to meet. He just stood there, gawking at me. I assumed it was because he most definitely couldn't see me, due to the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses. I returned his glare, and even if I tried I couldn't bear to take my eyes of him. He was standing just a few feet away from me and he was alive. John Lennon was alive. This might have been one of the best moments of my life, even if it was a dream. I had so much to say to him, so many questions, but I could only stare at this point as cliche as it sounds. He still had his mop top, however it was a little more rugged then Paul's. Actually, everything about him was a little more rugged then Paul. They way he stood, the way his brown suede jacket fell around his fuller figure.

"Who's the bird?" he asked Paul nonchalantly. Perfect. Those weren't exactly the first words I wanted to hear from John Lennon, but completely expected. Paul looked a little scattered, he must have been considering what John would think about this whole situation. He was about to introduce me but I beat him to it. I reached my hand in front of John for a hand shake.

"I'm Charlotte, Who are you?" I jested boldly. It seemed his ego was taken aback by my question, however he took my hand and shook it firmly with a sly grin on his face.

"John Lennon, pleasure to meet you love," I smiled back, our gaze was not broken until the same door flung open a second time, but this time two men walked through.

"Paul did you get the take... oh," his dark eyes immediately moved in my direction and those similar butterflies fled through my stomach once again. Mesmerized by his presence, my hand slowly fell from John's once firm grip. He noticed this, and in return I saw a small smile grow upon his face from the corner of my eye. I could not believe that John Lennon was only a foot in front of me, and yet I was taken aback by another man, There was just something about him. Ironically something. He held out his hand rather nervously before me.

"I'm George Harrison, it's very nice to meet you," I smiled and almost too quickly grabbed his hand. I couldn't begin to describe the happiness I felt to see them both here, both being able to stand before me, being able to live for that matter. The warmth of his hand felt so new and intriguing, I hoped that I would be able to have a real friendship with these guys, and I felt the same reaction from George. Right as I was about to introduce myself, the one and only Ringo Starr, a very young looking Ringo Starr put his hand out and grinned ear to ear, I giggled and took his hand. I looked up into those blue eyes and almost melted, he was truly very handsome in person. I could not stop smiling, I just hoped this wasn't some cruel dream and I was going to wake up any minute.

"I'm Charlotte Abbey, and if my math is correct you must be Ringo ,"

"Yes indeed, that would be me," he said in a sort of sing-song voice.

"And it is wonderful meeting you Charlotte," he said while bobbing his head side to side. Adorable I thought. He then grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips. John quickly intervened.

"Ringo, that's horrible, tryin to 'ave yer way with Paulie's girl," Ringo quickly let go of my hand, almost as fast as me a Paul denied being together.

"Then how did she get in here with ya then," John inquired.

"We were actually just about to 'ave that conversation," Paul retorted. A sly grin appeared over John's face as he cocked his head in my direction.

"Well why don't we take this conversation somewhere a little more comfortable for the night?" I took a step towards him,

"And what did you have in mind Lennon?" I cheekily replied, with the knowledge I had on John Lennon, I was fully aware of what he was implying. However, this could be all a dream, and if not I will need a place to stay and it is John fucking Lennon! Not that I am one to sleep around, to be honest I haven't even had my first time yet, and just because I stay with him, doesn't mean anything like that will happen. I sure was doing a great job of talking myself into this. John smiled and took a step towards me so that we were mildly close.

" I thought all four of us should spend the night at Paulie's so you can tell us were you came from and why you are dressed like Epstein would on a Friday night with all his little faggy friends." Yes, I was for sure in the 60's due to that comment and going by what he said about Brian Epstein I was sure that I was in 1965.

"Yes, In fact as scary as the sounds, it would be an honour to join you, however John you have to promise me you will stop treating Brian like shit, because you will regret it, trust me," I hated to have to sound like a drag, but as we all know, he will soon regret it. He rolled his eyes.

"Your lucky your cute Abbey,"
"Your lucky your famous,"

That common Lennon smirk grew upon his face once more as he lead me out of the studio with the boys and into Paul's Aston Martin.

"