Beatles smuts and fluffs;)

Black eye (George) *short*

"George, why won't you look at me?" I questioned, now becoming frustrated.
He tapped on his leg nervously, looking at the floor. I crossed my arms, standing above him. Whipping my head to the rest of them, they all looked away suspiciously.

"George was punched by a fan." Paul blurted out. George grunted in anger to which Paul quietly defended himself.

"It was a Best fan," John teased. George slowly raised his head to look at me,  and I grimaced at the dark purple mark under his eye. Sitting next to him, turning to be in front of him, he swallowed nervously.

"Oh, George," I sighed, shaking my head.

"All I did was defend Ringo," he grumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Does it hurt? When did this happen?" I murmured, studying him.

" 'bout twenty minutes ago, and yeah, it hurts a lot."

I smiled sympathetically,  putting my hand to his jaw. I felt the slight pressure on my fingertips,  signaling that he had lightly rested his head on my hand. He smiled softly at me, to which I returned.

"So," I turned to the rest of them, who sat lazily around my apartment,
"This is why you were all so set at coming here."

"Yeah," they said in unison. There was was an awkward silence for a few moments until Paul coughed, grabbing everyone's attention,
"Well. The three of us will go now. George is in good hands. Come on, guys."

One by one, they walked in a line out of my apartment, leaving us alone.

I turned to him with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Geo, babe. You had your heart in the right place."

" Not yer fault love. Besides" his voice was low and he gave me a winning smile,
"Your man is tough."

Placing my thumb softly under the bruise, I rubbed his cheek softly.

"Yes he is." I laughed quietly.

I got up after a moment, and walked to the fridge. Taking a cold bottle and a damp cloth, I walked back and sat down, handing the cold bottle to him.

"Its all I have for right now, but put it on your eye," I murmured,  guiding his hand to his eye.

"That guy gave you a real wallop." I laughed.

Taking the cloth, I rubbed the dirt off his skin around his hairline and jaw. His dark brown eyes made unwavering eye contact with mine, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"I dont deserve you, Y/N," he said, reaching his hand to play with my hair.

"Sure you do. Hold still." I giggled, cleaning him a tiny bit more before setting it down.

"If it makes you feel any better," I began, playing with his collar, and he gave me a smile,
"You're still very, very handsome."

He set down the bottle with a
"Come 'ere you,"

Before pulling my face in for a kiss. I made sure to tilt so I didnt get near his eye, which both of were closed. With a squeak from me, he pulled me into his lap to continue kissing me.

I pulled away, and we smiled at each other.

"George," I whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, love?" He murmured,  his face nearing mine.

"You have to keep the bottle on your eye. I'll get you an ice pack." I laughed, pecking his lips before slipping off.

"Alright fine, but I'm going to get you, Y/N!" He laughed, watching me say playfully to the kitchen.