beatle baby

1

"I'm going for a smoke while you guys warm up." George Martin announced. The four Beatles nodded at him and went back to their respective instruments. You stood with Brian Epstein in the corner, and he announced that he would go and join George.

"Watch them, (y/n). They sometimes wander off." Brian whispered.

You chuckled lightly.

"I'm serious. Especially John, he's very cheeky. And you know by now that Paul can bat his eyelashes at any girl and have them do whatever he wants." Brian added.

You nodded. "I know, I know. I've got to know them over the past year and a half. They wouldn't pull a stunt on me."

Brian sighed. "You'd be surprised." And with that, he followed George out.

You then noticed that the boys had been staring at you and Brian.

"Were you talking about us?" John asked.

"No." You said, too quickly.

John looked as if he was going to challenge you, but his expression showed that he'd had a change of mind. Only once had you outwitted John, and the thought of that haunted him. The thought of losing to you again, this time in front of his best friends would be too embarrassing.

"Love, could you be a dear and get me a glass of water?" Paul piped up.

"Paul, I've told you, I'm not your assistant, I'm Brian's." You said.

As Brian predicted, Paul gave you that classic Paul look.

"Ugh, fine." You said, and walked out of the room, down the hall towards the small kitchen.

"One for me as well please!" You heard Ringo call after you. You were just going to pretend you didn't hear. As you entered the kitchen and walked over to the cupboard where the glasses were kept, you got one for Ringo.

He gets picked on enough by the other boys and the press, you should just be nice, you told yourself.

Upon entering the studio again, the four boys were crowded around the table.

"Whatcha looking at?" You asked, as you walked over.

"We got a package, one of the secretaries just gave it to us." George explained.

"(Y/n), do you happen to have a scissor. Or better yet, a pocket knife?" Ringo asked as you handed him his water.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "No. What made you think I would?"

"I dunno. Women carry a lot of random things in their handbags." He replied.

"That's true, I once dated a girl who kept a little jar of HP sauce in her handbag. Aha! Got it open!" John said.

The five of us peered into the box.

"It's cookies! Thank god, I'm starving!" George exclaimed.

You shook your head. He was always hungry. "I wouldn't eat them. No one ever sends packages to the studio, besides, there's no labels on the box. This was hand delivered, not sent through the post."

"Don't be a spoil-sport, (y/n)! All we get are sappy letters. 'John you're so great', 'you're so handsome', 'you're so talented'. It's tiring after awhile!" John whined.

"Just wait until Brian gets back. If you all get poisoned and die, there would be mass hysteria. Never mind the fact that it would be my fault!" You said, but it fell upon deaf ears. The boys had each taken one and ate it.

"It's oatmeal raisin? I thought it was chocolate chip!" George groaned.

"Serves you right for not listening to me, Harrison." You said as you turned around to go back to your spot in the corner.

Surprisingly, you got no cheeky retorts from George.

"What? Surely you can think of something!" You said you turned back around. The silly banter you got to have with "the Fab Four" was one of the best parts of your job.

Your jaw dropped.

In front of you were four toddlers.

You heard voices in the hall.

Shit. Brian and George were coming back from their smoke.

How on earth were you going to explain this?