Queen & Beatles | OneShots

Paul McCartney - She

Warning - This is a bit saucey

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He woke up, surprised that he could remember every minute of last night. When one drinks as much as Paul had the previous evening they didn't usually remember it as clearly as he did. And yet, he did. But his mind wasn't on the party or the bright lights or the music, it was on a girl that he'd brought home. She was a sex goddess. The best he'd ever had and he'd had a few. She was stunning, her body sculpted perfectly, well to him it was. And if he remembered correctly, she'd be lying right next to him.

Her hair was quite long, ignoring all the trends of the early 60's. When the smaller body in the bed stirred, his hands flew to fix his bed-hair. Glittering eyes opened and peered up at Paul suddenly.

"Oh, good morning." Paul spoke, staying cool and collected.

"Hi," She spoke back in a raspy voice that said she'd just woken up. "Sorry, i'll get out of your way soon as I can."

"You're alright, no rush," There conversation started out typical for the morning after a one night stand but soon turned to Paul asking questions. At first he wasn't sure what to say, so he chose a question he often had to ask in this situation, despite already knowing the answer. "So what was your name again?"

"(Y/N)."

"That was it, yeah," He was surprised he'd forgotten given how in awe he was of her. But he couldn't let anything show. She smiled politely as she slipped her clothes from last night back on, over her semi naked body that moved through the morning sunlight. "I'm Paul"

"Yeah I know who you are." She laughed a little at her own words.

He laughed too. Of course she did, everyone did. He wasn't even trying to sound vain but The Beatles were the biggest thing in the world right now. But she didn't care, she was cool. She was perfect. Composed and elegant but natural, there was no trying.

"D'ya need a lift or anything?"

"Oh, bless you, no i'm okay. I can get a taxi" She seemed to appreciate the offer.

"I'll give you some money for that then, I'd feel awful if-" He insisted, still watching her dress at the foot of his bed.

"No need, i've got it."

She glanced in the mirror that hung on Paul's bedroom wall, checking her face for imperfections to tidy up but neither she, nor he, found any. No smudged makeup or fallen eye lashes to brush away.

"You don't have to go yet, y'know" He spoke out of nowhere. He must've seemed like most pathetic person in the world just then, so obviously had to think of a way to cover up the desperate plea for her to stay. A slight frown danced upon her dark brow. God, she was pretty. "I-I just mean that last night was good and we could talk. Maybe get breakfast or something? We can stay in, I'm a pretty good cook an-"

"That's sweet of you but I tend to keep things casual, you know?" She intercepted like a knife through butter. Her smile returned and she turned back to the mirror.

He closed his hanging jaw.

"Of course, though if you're turning down a Beatle, I dare say not men many stand a chance with you." So he knew what no meant... he just didn't know when to quit, alright. His comment was remarkably self important and downright vain. She then turned to face him with an unreadable expression on her face, just adding mystery to the woman.