Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 5 - How a Beatle Lives

"This is it, Mari!" Paul beamed down at Marisol and held out his hand to help her and Melody out of the back of the Austin Princess. "This is where it's at! Take it!"

After two quiet weeks decompressing from the tour, with no performances, no studio sessions, and no LPs to write, Paul was clearly going stir crazy. On the way to Ringo's party tonight to celebrate the end of the tour, he was in full Paul mode: whistling nonstop with every song on the radio and drumming on the back of the seat, on Marisol's leg, and on Melody's head until Marisol told him to stop it. He couldn't seem to contain his excitement at getting back together with the lads—the four of them, with their partners and children and close friends.

Marisol handed Melody to Paul, smoothed her dress, and ran a critical eye over their daughter.

"Paul, why did you give her that lollipop? It's all over her face. She's sticky." She licked her thumb and wiped at the baby's cheek. Melody jerked away and buried her sticky face in Paul's new charcoal grey jumper.

"Only a mother would think it's normal to wipe spit all over her child's face," Paul commented.

"I wouldn't have to if you hadn't given her candy!" Marisol reached for Melody, ignoring her squeals of protest. She turned so that Paul could reach the navy bag slung over her shoulder. "Get that bottle of wine out of the diaper bag. It's for Ringo and Maureen. This baby is a mess," she grumbled.

"She's fine. Relax. Everyone here knows what kids look like."

Relax, he said. She'd dealt with a cranky toddler all day who wouldn't nap and had just finished preparing the second meal for the three of them when her mother rang to remind her that today was the day her dogs were arriving from California. Mal Evans had been dispatched to the airport to collect them while Marisol rushed to the market for dog food and hunted all over the village for dog beds, to no avail. Cookie and Beau would just have to wing it on the rugs until she got that sorted.

Cookie and Beau arrived, thirsty and hungry and agitated from their day-long ordeal, and Marisol had dashed out to meet them in the courtyard. In minutes she was covered with dog hair and dog kisses. It started to feel like home.

She had just taken the dogs to the back garden for a bowl of water and a pee when Paul stuck his head out the kitchen door. "What's taking you so long? Mal is waiting to take us to Ritchie's!"

They had wasted at least ten minutes arguing about why Paul hadn't seen fit to tell her there was a party tonight, with Paul insisting he did tell her and Marisol insisting if he had told her she would have bought a new dress. Paul had finally said, "I'm not interested in getting into an argy-bargy about it. Get yourself ready and tomorrow I'll buy you all the dresses you want."

Melody had to be bathed and fed again and dressed in her best party dress and Marisol barely had time to sweep her hair up into a messy bun, add a touch of lipstick and mascara and throw on a confetti flared dress that swung flirtatiously as she walked. Hopefully no one would care about her chipped nails or notice she'd worn this same dress on several other dates with Paul.

"Easy for you to tell me to relax!" she now snapped. "You've been doing sod all but playing the bloody guitar all day!"

"When did you start swearing like a Liverpool dockworker?" Paul teased, his eyes twinkling.

Marisol bit back a response, not wanting to be snappish as they walked up the drive to Ringo's house where all Paul's friends waited.

"Let's get merry tonight, shall we?" Paul suggested. He patted his jacket pocket. "I have just the thing to help you relax, trust me."