all things must pass » the beatles, queen and the backstreet boys

9- Paul McCartney

"You alright?" I inquired, placing my hand gently on his shoulder, as his face expertly hid behind his hands---whether in frustration, anger, sadness, or tiredness, I had no idea.

"Just tired," his voice came out a little muffled, before rubbing at his cheeks a little and revealing an exhausted-looking (yet still just as beautiful) Paul McCartney.

The bags under his eyes were darker than his almost-ebony locks; dark enough so he couldn't, under any circumstance, deny his sheer exhaustion as he had been doing for the past couple of weeks.

Tired doe eyes blinked up at me, the green in them melting as he could barely look up at me, "Haven't slept enough in weeks," he admitted.

"Here," I sympathetically smiled as I handed him a cup of tea, "Just like you like it."

He chuckled a little incredulously, "How you think of these things instinctively, I've no idea."

"I'm a mother, I know that sort of stuff," I gave him an all-knowing smirk, to which he shook his head delightfully, setting down his cuppa tea on the mixing board as I stood in front of him.

"How's baby number 3 going?" he quietly asked, one arm pulling me onto his lap as the other resided on my barely-showing belly.

"Quite sweet, just like their daddy," I sighed happily, shifting a little so I wouldn't be too heavy on his lap, "I don't use the toilet as much as I did with Mary and Stella, and that's a relief, considering that it's too cold for midnight trips," I joked, causing that toothy smile I so-loved to poke its way into my heart.

"Good, wouldn't want to yell at my kid for making their mom unhappy," he arched an eyebrow as he pretended to glare at my stomach, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Come off of it Paul, you're the sappiest father ever," I teased, "All they do is look at you with their big eyes and you comply to their every want and need," I patted his cheek, "Not so tough as you make yourself seem during the 9 months of it all."

His cheeks now a burning crimson, he shrugged, letting a hand rest on my thigh, "I don't find this shameful."

"I think it's lovely," I admitted quietly, wrapping my arms around his neck, just simply taking a moment to admire the Adonis underneath me that never seemed to age.

"Can you hold me? I could really use a hug," Paul sweetly asked, hazel eyes peering innocently into mine.

"With pleasure," smiling back at him, I leaned into his warmth, shutting my eyes peacefully as his hands came to a rest on my back, letting us fall into the embrace of solitude we always craved---and, at times like these, desperately needed.

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