⇾ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈

↠ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞

He stared at Paul, and Paul stared back. "Why in the hell won't you talk to Alexandria?" Paul asked him again, still pissed off that George had heard poor Alexandria cry over him that morning and still refused to speak to her. 

"About this?" George asked with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe because that's bloody awkward to discuss with another bird. Anyways, you've gotta give me some advice on this whole sex thing because I wanna do it, I just don't know how!"

"Ask yer bird. I can almost a thousand percent guarantee that she knows a thing or two about shagging." Paul smirked. "You know, because she's—." He didn't even say it to insult Guinevere. He just said it to see how much it pissed George off because he found it funny when lanky, non-threatening George Harrison got all pissy. 

"Yeah, I get the ruddy point," George said. "You don't have to say it again."

"Hell, George, either way, it's all about pleasing' the bird. I can't tel you what in the hell Guinevere likes. You, as her boyfriend, are supposed to bloody figure that out." Paul pulled a thin, paper tube from his trouser pocket and stuck it between his lips before fishing for a lighter to light it up. 

"Yer dad'll murder ye if he finds out that you're smoking in here again, Paul," George said. He could remember all of the times Paul had been busted with a cigarette in the house, and all the shouting matches he had endured between Paul and his dad. His dad was usually the most chill person on the planet, but when you did something to make him angry, rest assured he would make you pay.

"Good thing he won't find out, then, yeah?" Paul responded slyly. He reached for another cigarette and extended it towards George. "It'll calm your nerves. I can tell just by looking at you that you're still all wound up, and that makes me wildly uncomfortable, George."

George frowned, then gave in and took the cigarette from Paul's hand. Paul lit the device for him and then opened a window. George closed the bedroom door behind them in an attempt to keep the smoke away from the downstairs floor of the house. 

"Just shag her and get it over with."

"What if I'm bad, though?"

"Oh, you will be," Paul replied. "That's just inevitable. Only gives you room to improve...and an excuse to do it more." Paul smirked at his younger friend, but George didn't look like his mind was any more at ease now than it had been. "Hell, George, you're overthinking it. Don't think about it, just do it. If she wants to the be better somehow, believe me, she will tell you." Paul took a drag of his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke out of the window. 

"James Paul McCartney, are you smoking in there again?" Jim McCartney's voice caught Paul off guard, and his doe eyes went wide as he reached over and plucked the cigarette from George's lips. He reached out of his window and snubbed them out on the brick outside, then dropped them down to the grass below. 

"No!" Paul called out as George grabbed a bottle of cologne and spritzed it into the air. He knew the routine. They'd gone over it many times before. Paul yanked the window closed and quietly as possible just as his bedroom door opened. George put his hands behind his back to hide the cologne bottle. 

"Alexandria's here," Paul's father said with a deep scowl at his son. He knew what he was bloody up to. 

"Right, tell her I'll be down in just a minute," Paul said, and George shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his former best friend. 

When the bedroom door closed yet again, Paul turned to George. "Why won't you really talk to her?" Paul asked. "I won't judge. Just tell me, please."

"Guin doesn't want me to," George grumbled. "That's all."

"George—."

"You said you wouldn't judge!" George said defensively.