In Your Atmosphere (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 41 Got to Get You Into My Life

She grabbed his finger, bringing his hand to her lap. "You can't let her rule the house like some seventeen-pound tyrant."

"The world is a brutal place, Mari. She'll find out soon enough. Home should be as happy as we can make it."

"A happy place full of broken crockery and Cheerios all over the place?" She looked at the floor. "Where is your broom?"

"Fook if I know." Carrying Melody high on his chest, Paul went to the cupboards and took out two saucepans. He turned one of the pans over and practiced a rhythm with a wooden spoon. "Let's go make some music, baby girl," he said, carrying her into the sitting room.

Marisol was still on her knees picking up Cheerios when the intercom buzzed.

John Lennon didn't actually have to push the intercom at Paul's gate. The increased noise level from the fans told everyone on the block that Paul McCartney's partner in rhyme had arrived. The fans liked pushing the buzzer, however, since it gave them a legitimate reason to talk to Paul again.

Marisol drew a curtain aside as another face popped up over the wall, watching John climbing out of a black sedan. The girls would hang on to the wall as long as they could, and when one dropped down another would pop up.

The second John walked in, she threw her arms around his neck, before he even had the chance to finish calling "Hemingway!"

"Lennon! I missed you, you wacker!"

"Don't you mean wanker, love?" he said, laughing.

"So you admit it!" She stepped back to look at him, her grin wide. Then she noticed the look on Paul's face as he swung the door closed behind John and felt a little guilty about the enthusiastic way she greeted his best friend.

"I hear you've managed to get yourself knocked up," John said, eying her up and down.

"Er, I had a little help," Marisol said, her grin fading. Same old John.

John walked through the house, throwing a wave at Mrs. Kelly, who'd come downstairs to answer the door. He paused in the doorway to the sitting room, looking down at Melody. She was clinging to the side of the sofa trying to figure out how to get to Jesus, who was stretched across a cushion with one eye open.

"By gum, you can't deny this one, Macca," John muttered.

Paul clapped his hands. "So. About that song."

John slouched onto the sofa. "I haven't even had me tea yet."

"I'll get it," Marisol offered. She went into the kitchen, a little surprised that she was already so comfortable leaving her baby for Paul to watch.

Mrs. Kelly made it clear with a withering look that she didn't fancy Marisol meddling in her domain. In fact, she didn't fancy Marisol at all. Marisol stood shuffling her feet, watching the older woman arranging a pot of tea, cups, and a plate of scones on a tray.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kelly, I'll take it," she said, and Mrs. Kelly huffed. Marisol sighed and picked up the tray. So what, she thought, she wasn't going to be here much longer anyway.

John and Paul were watching an interview on The Money Programme when she came in with the tea tray.

Paul was at the other end of the sofa from John with his arm loosely around Melody's chest. She was still trying to get to Jesus.

"Do you want the bad news first or the good news, Mari?" Paul asked, watching her pour the tea.

Marisol sighed. "I don't want any bad news at all, thanks."