Queen & Beatles | OneShots

George Harrison - The Photographer

"That makes sense! She's not a fan, Geo. She's a photographer. Yeah, that makes so much sense. She wanted a photo of you, not with you." Paul was speaking as if it were the revelation of the year.

George was hesitant to answer. It did make sense but then he had to face the reality of what he had done.

"Well regardless of that, I've had my people on the phone all morning making sure she knows what will happen if she prints this. If it finds its way into the press, we'll know how. Lawyers are on standby." Brian informed them.

"Why have you done that?" George snapped.

Their manager sighed.

"Because I am responsible for keeping your names clean. You decided you didn't want your soulmate, George, that kind of thing would not go down well if your actual fans heard-"

"I never said that!" George tried to defend himself. He basically had. He might as well have called her a cab and chucked her in it.

The other boys groaned at the youngest lad's temperament. George was changeable and still trying to figure out what he wanted. But sometimes he took that out on everyone else. Soulmates were a tricky thing. Most people had them and some people didn't, some spent their lives waiting for words to appear and they never did. John didn't have any words yet, and was convinced he never would, so he'd gone ahead and married. Paul was still optimistic about his, dating a girl who was in the same boat. Ringo had words. 'Excuse me, love, have you got the time?' It was sweet and made him smile whenever he saw his skin. George didn't feel as sentimental about meeting her but now he knew who she was, it was different.

"Just make up your mind. Do you want the bloody photographer? I wouldn't. Unless she's a bit gorgeous. Is she alright?" Lennon looked at Paul for an honest answer. Macca gave him a nod and smile. "So she works at Thunderdome?"

"Lay off, ye' dog. I'll see you lot tomorrow." George stood and grabbed his jacket, clumsily making his way out of room.

-

The office was quiet and so far the news of your embarrassment hadn't gotten around to your vicious co-workers. They might start to notice as the words fade from your wrist but you could play that off as 'you never met your soulmate and you don't know what happened' and act just as clueless as them. It wasn't their business anyway but to say that would be hostile.

"(Y/N), do you have a shoot scheduled for today?" Your supervisor stopped you urgently to ask one afternoon.

"No?"

"Oh. Why is George Harrison here to see you?" She whisper-yelled.

You look over her shoulder and sure enough he's there. Taller than you remembered him but looking a lot less intimidating in just regular clothes. Your entire being reacted against the situation.

You put on your most professional face and stride over there, beginning to speak before you even properly reached him.

"Hiya, if you'll just give me one minute." You greet, smiling somehow.

Darting past him and into the elevator you press the button to the ground floor, bashing the button to close the doors and the tall man comes back into sight. George notices you pressing the button urgently and puts two and two together. You're making a break for it. He rushes to the doors which close just in time, for which you pray to every God from every religion and thank them. Surely the seven flights of stairs would stall him long enough for you to get to your car and be out of here.