Come Together

4: Dinner (smutty)

"Well, that was certainly engaging..." Paul exclaimed with a yawn. He sighed. "So many bloody questions they 'ad..."

"Price of fame, lads," Brian said breezily, turning his head to look back at the bassist as they all quickly strode to their limousine.

"I s'pose..." the younger man replied grudgingly.

"'Ow about that relationship question then, ay?" John laughed. "I was pokin' you so hard, Macca."

George and Ringo giggled as they climbed into their side of the limousine. "Gettin' a bit bold then, mm?" the drummer laughed. He snuggled into George's side and the taller man snaked his arm around Ringo's shoulder.

"In all seriousness, though," Paul fretted, "we 'ave to be careful, mates, we really do. Our reputation an' our future could be ruined..."

He sat with a heavy sigh, gazing down at nothing. "We're the Beatles..." he murmured hollowly, "charmin' blokes, charmin' the birds...uuuugh..." he groaned in frustration.

"Hey, hey, Macca, it's okay," John soothed, tenderly slipping his own hand into the other's. "We can work it out..." he whispered. "Come on. We can do it. We're the bloody Beatles, there's nothin' we can't do."

A small smile grew on Paul's youthful face and he lifted his head. "Yeah..." he said softly. "Okay."

Brian hopped into the front seat and twisted his body around to make eye contact with the Fab Four. "Ready to go to dinner, then?" he said briskly. "You all are so sweet," he added with a rakish grin.

"Let's go, then." Ringo chirped eagerly. His blue eyes shone. George smoothed down his slightly rumpled hair with a tender smile.

Paul leaned against John's shoulder with his face tilted towards the rain-spattered window. He watched the brights lights of the city scroll by, the rain distorting and blurring them so they seemed to be little more than abstract blobs of jeweled colour.

John gazed at Paul's tenderly soft face as the bassist serenely contemplated the nighttime city. Warmth flooded through his body and heart, and he kissed the bassist tenderly on the forehead.

"I love you..." George whispered deeply into Ringo's ear. The drummer grinned.

●●●

"We're here, lads!" Brian announced cheerfully, breaking the quiet atmosphere of the limousine.

Yawning, the Fab Four cautiously clambered out of their sleek black vehicle, scanning the darkened and empty sidewalks nervously. "Hope there's no one waitin' out there to attack us wit' screamin'..." George said wearily. "I jus' wanna eat, mate."

"We should be left alone," Brian replied as he led them through the restaurant doors. "I made sure the restaurant was empty."

"Oh, sweet!" John exclaimed with a grin. "Some peace an' quiet, thank God..."

The five men filed into the posh-looking room, which was pleasantly warm and lit with an ambient yellow light. It was deserted and smelled pleasantly of baked bread and lavender.

"Smells like you..." Ringo murmured to George with a flirty grin. John snorted. "Yeah, righ'."

A sharply dressed waiter emerged from a door in the back and strode over to the band and Brian, menus in his hand. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said pleasantly, "please follow me."