A series of Beatles one-shots.
G.H: George Harrison
J.L: John Lennon
P.M: Paul McCartney
R.S: Ringo Starr
Trigger warnings, if present, will be mentioned at the start of each story.
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"Morning Y/N!"
It was the first thing you heard every Saturday morning when you walked into the café, and it always made your day.
You put your things on the nearest table and shook off your dark red raincoat, one which turns out you didn't need after all that morning.
"Morning auntie," you said with a smile.
Aunt Rosie came walking in from the back, her dark brown hair up in a neat bun as usual. She was carrying a tray with things for the coffee machine. She always liked to keep things neat, Rosie.
"How's your dad dear?" she asked you as she emptied the tray.
You shrugged as you tied your apron around your waist. "Oh, you know, he's alright. Paul and I are just trying to get on y'know, dad too," you explained.
The older woman gave you an apologetic look, one which you returned. She went forward and squeezed your shoulder gently.
"I know dear, I'm sorry for asking," said Rosie.
It had been hard since their mother had suddenly passed away, there was no denying it. Paul seemed to be torn by it the most still, even though it had already been several months since it happened.
Trying to shake away your thoughts, you decided to help your aunt set up everything in the café.
The day always started at 10 o'clock on Saturday mornings when the regulars came in. Older men, mostly, some retired. You were happy to serve them anything they wanted, whether it be a hot cuppa or a pint.
Then as the day progressed, older students would come in to enjoy the warmth of Rosie's café as well. Some liked to study there, others just to listen to the jukebox for a dime per song.
It was around one-thirty in the afternoon when the a subtle July breeze blew in as the door opened. As per usual, you looked up from whatever you were doing to greet the new guest. But you were a little puzzled when you lay eyes on him.
A young man, a couple years older than yourself, had walked in. His Teddy boy haircut was a bit tousled due to the wind, which had also caused his cheeks to be slightly rosy. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket as he scanned the room.
"Afternoon," you said politely.
He looked up at you and flashed a toothy grin you couldn't help but smile back at. He stepped forward and unsurely rested one arm on the bar.
"Can I help you?" you asked.
A pair of light brown eyes looked up at you. You thought he had somewhat of an unusual nose, and bushy eyebrows as well. But you found him to be quite handsome nonetheless, all the while still wearing that contagious grin on his face.
