McLennon Oneshots

Daddy's Boy

(A/N- Sorry if the title mislead you... Hehehe.
P.s, the above is where I got the idea for this story from 💓.)

6th February, 1961

"Paul, please don't go without your coat... It's freezing out there." Jim frowned at his son, who was heading out to his second gig of the week at the cavern club. He was already going to be late when he got there and his father certainly wasn't making the situation any better.

"Dad, I'm going to be inside anyway. I don't need my coat." Paul huffed, trying to remain calm, grabbing his house key from the little table at the side of the door. "Now, I'll be back at 2, so don't worry if you hear the door open."

"Paulie, please?" Jim begged, not giving up. He turned to meet his dad's eyes. "I already worry about you being out that late... Please don't make me worry about you catching something from the chill, too..." Jim frowned.

Paul gave in, sighing and giving his father a nod. His father gave him a thankful smile, grabbing the coat and putting it round his son's shoulders.

"I'll see you later, Da." He smiled, quickly throwing the door open. "Love you."

The door shut before Jim could reply, Paul running down the garden path and out of the gate. The bus was due in 2 minutes, and he definitely couldn't miss it. He couldn't miss the beginning of this gig.

Not again.

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John, Stuart, Pete and George were all sat around in the room just behind the stage, waiting for Paul. John huffed impatiently as he looked at the time on his watch.

"He's fucking done it again! We had to do our first song without him yesterday, we're due on in 7 minutes." John exclaimed, not even trying to hide his anger.

"He's probably just held up again, John." George tried to calm him down, but it was no use.

"Yeah whatever, George. I'm going to wait for him at the doors." He pushed past Pete, heading towards the fire escape at the back of the club, which was the entrance the boys used.

John knew why he'd be late. It would be his fathers fault, and of course John would have to be the one to knock some sense into him. Make him realise that his dad shouldn't worry about him this much.

He waited there for a few seconds, tapping his foot on the cobbles beneath him, huffing to himself in fustration, until he saw a boy with brown curly hair walk through the gate, looking just as wound up as himself.

"And where the hell have you been?" Scolded John.

"Hello Paul, how are you?" Paul mimicked John's voice, sarcastically. "Yeah, hey to you too..."

"No time for that cheek, son. You're already like 15 minutes late! Where in the fuckin' hell where you?!"

"My Dad, he-"

"Your fuckin' dad again? Why am I surprised?" John interrupted, anger rising up even more. "When the hell are you going to stand your ground to him? You're not bleedin' 10 years old anymore, Paul!"

"Well what do you want me to say to him, eh?" Paul asked, furstrated. When John didn't reply he grew even more pissed off. "Go on, John, what do you want me to say to him? Because if you tell me what then I might just do it."

"Tell him to stop treatin' you like a fucking baby! Remind him that you don't need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap for the rest of your life!" He almost yelled.