DARK HORSE

Guitar Man - Cheryl/George

forthriight​:

when he’d successfully (and aggressively) shaken the half-cig out onto his palm, harrison turned his moppet nose toward her once more, only to find that the bird had stepped closer. “nah. liverpool.” his tone was dry, eyebrows raised, and his eyes half-lidded. “n’whur’re you from, then?” he turned his shoulders toward her, one leaning casually on the brick wall beside him as he lit the cigarette he’d wedged between his lips. in the dim light of the alleyway, he could see now that the girl was a little comely, and if she’d come to flirt— he’d have his best chances facing her straight on. after a generous pull on the little nub, harrison removed it, pinching the filter between his first and second finger and resting his arm at his side. “don’t tell me tha’s th’queen’s German.”

“Well, Liverpool is in the UK,” Cheryl laughed, delighted by the young man’s cheek.  He’d turned to face her now, and she could study his features more carefully in the dim light.  She squinted, frowning slightly as she could swear she recognized him from somewhere.

“I’m…from the United States….” she murmured idly, tilting her head as she racked her brain trying to think who he could be.  “But you look so familiar to me, it’s so strange.  Have you been to America?  I’ve never been to Hamburg or Liverpool….”  @forthriight​

“Hide th’stuff!”

- college band, they’re all going to NYU for various things and play at WSQ park a LOT

- John dormed only for the year he was there alone and once Paul made it, they found a scrubby apartment that was MUCH too small for the eventual three people who would live there

- George spent the night a LOT while he finished his final year of hs

- they have fuckin day jobs (all at the same little coffee place in the west village and everyone’s in love with them, their coworkers, their manager, their higher-ups)

- Sometimes!! The manager of said shop will let them play at the coffee place because it’s a wine n beer bar at night :)

- that manager ends up being Brian Epstein who decides he’ll spend his free time helping the bugs get gigs outside the coffee shop/WSQ park

- they play covers of psychedelic music (because we always operated like the Beatles were the only band displaced in time lol) and rock and roll and really lay into the “vintage” aesthetic

- George and John both balked when Paul suggested covering The Beach Boys (Paul’s like “we have to play pet sounds to be better than pet sounds fellas, no two ways about it”)

- George and Paul see each other for a little bit, which works out for the best because they have to share a room because… the apartment is a 2 bed LMAO

- Ringo is honestly just a customer who came in one time and left his info for the band after hearing them play and they all said yes we love it!!

- realistically they were probably like “!!! A drummer!!!” and puttered about for a little bit, invited ringo over, and ended up having a laugh and he was in

- they all briefly tried to be skateboard guys but after being CRIPPLINGLY embarrassed to skate in front of better skaters at WSQ park, decided they were too cool to skateboard

- after working with ringo as their drummer for a couple weeks they on-board him at their job, he’s everyone’s favorite kitchen guy (he has the personality of an nyc line cook go away)

- they have roof-top concerts quite often because they have roof access in their building and will ask other college bands to open for them to help out

- the exis are from a different college elsewhere in the city and happened to be in west village one night and caught the boys playing and said heLL YEAH so they then started making the commute to the west village every night to see their new fave band OR the exis also work at the same place and they all become codependent on one other as they bond over their current shared experiences. 

- the exis sign the lads up to take part in a pride march (as one of the things going on on the sidewalk as the march goes by) and they KILL IT (and they also walk in the parade the next day, it’s great, they’re carrying flags and signs and also just being like “wow look at what we’re doing!!!”) 

“Who’s sayin’ what I’d do?”

There it is; the little sadistic beast within McCartney that only clacks its jaws for petty matters is tossed some gristle. He doesn’t question why George is biting, sometimes he’s just thrown a bone, especially when the other lad’s rather impassive sensibilities peel away into such rare form. He feels like he’s a thousand degrees, their antics causing him to break out in a  nervous sweat as they hot-box in the booth, their egos rollercoastering around the rails of their soaring brains. 

“I could read th’headlines now… Jelly Baby Harrison wanted f’er murder of rising pop star,” Paul muses, flexing the fingers of his one hand in a sensational gesture, “All that was left of ‘im were ‘is boots. Course, I’d ‘ave t’throw ye’ und’r the bus, y’see…”

“Carn’t be implicated in such matters. Not til the record’s finished, at least,” he drawls, lazily thumbing at the loopholes of the other’s trousers, pumping his hips teasingly as if their macabre musings were some fleeting and disgraced form of foreplay, “But I’ll visit ye’ in th’klink. Sort of riles me up, th’thought of bein’ with a jailbird.”

“Anyroad, how long do ye’ reckon you’ll keep me ‘ere like this, ye’ cock-tease? Y’er gonna ‘ave t’let me go. Ye’ can’t keep me from Michael forever,” he growls, doped out dark saucers glinting menacingly, “Would hate to ‘ave to resort t’violence.”

McCartney suddenly leans forward, grazing his lips along the slope of George’s neck before bestowing a loving nip, one that may bruise slightly, sometime later.