Dearest - George Harrison Fan Fiction - Beatles Fan Fiction

Chapter Four, Part One - Everybody's A Critic

John rustled the pages of The Washington Post, horn-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his aquiline nose, eyebrows knitted in an irritated expression. He read aloud from the newspaper. "... downright conservative." John frowned, eyes narrowing behind the thick lenses. His thin lips moving but silently reading the article until John reached another passage that annoyed him. ".... asexual and homely."

Paul widened his eyes comically. "Homely?" He spoke laughingly, trying to lighten the mood at the table.

The less than favorable reviews on their debut performance on The Ed Sullivan Show cast a downbeat mood over breakfast.

"They haven't a clue what they're talking about," Brian spoke sharply, infuriated that the press turned on his boys.

"Asexual and homely too boot," Paul stated good-naturedly, shaking his head. "Talk about adding insult to injury."

Ringo spoke up. "What's asexual mean?"

"No sex appeal, man," Paul answered.

John smirked, looking over at Ringo. "Asexual and homely. Two words that perfectly describe you."

"That's me alright, Johnny. Asexual and homely." Ringo replied dryly, taking his mate's insult on the chin. "I don't understand what we were supposed to do. Dance around in our y-fronts?" He stood up from his chair and did a playful shimmy.

John snorted. "Did that impress her last night?"

He didn't need to say Charlie's name for Ringo to know John was referring to her.

"We have a full day ahead of us. Let's finish breakfast." Brian proposed anxiously, nervous about the tense interaction between two of his boys and the possible effect it could have on that day's scheduled events.

(————)

Louise took a long drag off of her cigarette, watching George eat breakfast. He'd turned up to her room that morning, a boyish grin and apologetic expression on his face, but George didn't say sorry or explain his actions.

Instead, he invited himself in for breakfast and ordered room service for two.

He motioned to her plate with his fork. He mumbled with a mouthful of eggs. "Aren't you going to?"

"Were you even bloody thinking, George?" She finished off her cigarette and stubbed it out aggressively into the ashtray.

He sighed, setting down his fork and grabbed his napkin. George took his time, wiping his mouth.

Louse slipped another cigarette between her lips, not one to be stalled, she spoke crossly and lit her cigarette "Go on."

He tossed his napkin onto the table, George picked up his cup of tea. "I didn't come here to argue with you, Lou." He set down his cup without taking a sip. His voice softened. "It's your last day here. I thought - we haven't - we haven't spent a lot of time together, just you and me."

She pointed her cigarette at him. "You shouldn't have run off like that."

He frowned. "What would you have me do? Drag her somewhere she didn't want to go? I don't feel bad about what I did, Lou."

"Oi! Everyone was worried about you, George."

"And, I was worried about her."

"You can't just go off," She motioned with her cigarette in her hand. "When you fancy it -"

"When I fancy it? Oh, yes, because it was all that simple, wasn't it?" He abruptly stood up from his chair at the table. "It wasn't for a laugh." He crossed his arms over his chest.