⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Eighty: Don't Take Him

May 12, 1962

Donna's POV

I tried to wipe the smile off, but it seemed something had glued it to my face. I felt shamefully like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. There seemed to be one less thing negative and one more thing positive in its place. It was invigorating, ecstatic even.

We returned to Hamburg the next morning, as early as possible, as we'd told the others. Forcing ourselves up and out of bed proved to be rather difficult. I could feel John's arms around me from behind, a feeling I never wanted to forget. Nonetheless, we managed after a while.

Arriving back in the city, we found George and Paul bickering at the station, waiting for us. When they saw us, they gave a smile and a wave, but I caught Paul kick George on the back of the leg and snicker as he nearly toppled over because of it.

"Break it up, troublemakers," John teased in a high-pitched, motherly voice.

Paul broke into a fit of laughter and George hit him forcefully in the arm. I looked down at my feet in dismay, wondering how I'd ended up surrounded by a load of idiots such as these. I guess it made sense though because there wasn't really anyone else I'd rather be with.

"We're going out for food," explained Paul. "Thought you'd wanna join? A train ride can work up an appetite, yeah?"

"Sounds lovely," I said, speaking for the first time.

"Well, come on, then!"

Paul turned and kicked George again as he tried to walk away. "You can stop now," George snapped and Paul snickered to himself again like a child.

~~~

"Have a nice trip?" George asked us over lunch.

I looked down to hide my blushing face, shifting uncomfortably.

"It was—uh—good," said John steadily, tightening his grip on my hand teasingly.

Paul gasped and dropped his hands on the table loudly. "Lennon and Epstein!" he shouted, garnering a few glances from people around the restaurant.

John's head fell into his hands.

"How'd that happen, then?" George asked, fighting a laugh.

"Well, George," remarked John. "Donna and I really love each other, and—."

George stopped him frantically.

"Dooonna," Paul taunted, trying to get me to look up. I didn't want to. I could feel how red my face was. "I'm gonna tell Brian."

I looked up at that, a murderous look in my eyes. He broke into a fit of laughter. I felt the sudden urge to melt away, burying my face into my hands.

"I'm only kidding, pet," quipped Paul, patting me on the shoulder over the table.

"I hope he treated you right," added George tauntingly. "Lots of girls leave him crying." I gave him a wide-eyed look. John just reached over absently and shoved George annoyedly.

"We're sorry," said Paul. "We're just so happy we won't have to watch you tease each other and not do it." He took a sip of his water, raising his eyebrows expectedly. "It was a bloody pain, y'know?"

John shook his head. "Fuck off."

"Ah, John!" snapped George. "Good reputations don't come from dirty language like that!"

"Yeah, yeah, chatter on," John remarked as a waiter came over and began passing around plates of food. Paul gave her a wink and a thank you before she left. She scowled at him. He gave a sideways grin. "Lovely service."