Find My Way (A Paul McCartney Fanfiction)

(4)

After I'd made the tea and asked Paul if he fancied milk and sugar in his (to which he replied, 'yes', and then proceeded to put four sugar cubes into his cup), we sat back down in my living room to make a plan of sorts, or at least a flimsy idea of what was going to happen now that 21-year-old Paul McCartney was in 2022.

"It's good, that," he commented nonchalantly about the tea, as he absentmindedly picked at his forefinger.

"Thanks," I grinned, my cheeks going warm again, which I tried to push away. Goodness did I need to pull myself together better. I shook myself, before continuing, "So, do you remember anything that might have happened which would have led to you ending up here? Any kind of magical occurrences or the like? I mean, maybe whatever sent you could send you back as well."

Paul looked bewildered at such a question. His upraised eyebrows and widened hazel eyes testified to that fact.

"Magical occurrences? What is this, Cinderella?" he said, forcing a laugh, even though I could tell he was bothered by my sanity, or lack thereof.

"No, no," I chuckled nervously, mentally kicking myself for adding in the 'magical' bit. "I just mean anything out of the ordinary."

"Ahh," he nodded with a fake smile of relief. "In that case my answer would still be the same—no."

"Cheeky," I reprimanded him with yet another playful slap to his arm, which I also chided myself for since I'd already done that to him once, and I didn't want him to think that I was some sort of weirdo who couldn't resist touching him because of who he was. Thinking about it, though, it was rather difficult to not slap his arm, or want to engulf him into a hug, simply because he was pretty cute, which was something I hadn't truly realized until now. Gosh, I'm really losing it, aren't I?

"Pardon?" his soft voice pricked my ears, which jolted me out of my reverie.

"So sorry," I blushed. "Just got caught up in thoughts."

"What were you thinking about?" he inquired innocently with a slurp of his tea, his eyes appearing to be as round as the saucers which held our teacups when we weren't drinking.

"Oh, just about how strange this all is," I replied quickly with a wave of my hand.

"Ahh," he nodded, but I could sense that he didn't truly believe me.

Deciding to change the conversation, I told him that he'd probably need some different clothes if he were to ever leave my house, considering his suit and tie were hardly inconspicuous in this day and age. He seemed a bit surprised at my sudden shift of ideas (really, though, I hadn't a clue as to how to send him back to 1963, so any sort of diversion until I figured it out was welcome), but he shrugged his shoulders and agreed anyway.

"I would like to see a bit of 2022 that isn't your house," he commented, which instantaneously sent a shock through my stomach as I realized that I'd have to make sure he didn't see anything about the future that he shouldn't. Still, I knew it was unfair to think that I'd be able to lock him up in my house forever, especially since I didn't know how long he'd be in the future.

Seeing the look of deep thought upon my slender face, he waved his hand in front of it. "Hello? Shall I call your therapist now?"

"You're mean, Paul," I giggled as I (again, goodness help me) slapped his arm.

"I'm so hurt," he deadpanned with a clutch of his chest, a smirk blooming across his honestly adorable face.

"Good, I'm glad," I smirked back, before I took one last sip of my tea. "Alright, I think we best be off to TopShop, then. If we wait any longer it'll be super busy, and I honestly don't like people that much. Oh yeah, and you'll have to wear these so that no one recognizes you," I explained as I held up the face mask I'd worn during the Covid outbreak and the round-rimmed sunglasses I'd bought two years ago.

His eyes widened substantially at these remarks, to the point where it was almost comical. "Wait a moment, please, luv. First of all, what is TopShop? And second of all, why on earth do you have a disinfectant mask thingy at your disposal? Are you in a sort of World War III or something? And you have to wear the mask to avoid breathing in the gases?"

I couldn't help but shriek with laughter at his assumptions. He didn't find the matter too humorous, for he was terribly confused, but I just couldn't help myself. Nonetheless, perhaps he wasn't too far from the truth, once you got down to it.

Eventually I recovered from my fit, and explained to him that TopShop was a clothing store, and that the Covid pandemic was the reason for the mask. He seemed to understand after that, but I could tell that he didn't like the idea of having to wear the mask and sunglasses, especially the former item since 'kittens in rain boots' was the design printed upon it.

"Well, if I must wear them, I must," he sighed as he begrudgingly put them on, his baby face curling into a pout.

I must admit, I did laugh at him after seeing them on, because he did look quite ridiculous. The good thing was that most people looked ridiculous in 2022, so he'd thankfully fit right in.

"Alright, ready to go, Paulie?" I teased him as I grabbed my keys and coat.

"If you mean ready to embarrass myself in front of the people of 2022, then yes," he replied as he pulled at his kitten mask.

"Good," I giggled...with yet another slap to his arm.

The next chapters will be ones that I've recently written, as opposed to these having all been written a year ago, so I hope they'll breathe some life into this book because I'm feeling like these chapters have been a bit choppy. I really, really appreciate you lovely folks reading this, though, and I can't thank you enough! :-)