Bet I Can! - Chapter 2/5 (February Imagination Challenge Response)
Title: Bet I Can! - Chapter Two
Author: Jo cozyjo
Rating: PG
Timeframe: 1965
Pairing: John/Paul
Summary: Cyn bets John he can’t survive 24 hours while she takes the housekeeper and the other Beatle girls out for a day of shopping and then an overnight stay at a London hotel. Never one to back down from a challenge, John accepts, enlisting the aid of his fellow Beatle mates in caring for Jules and performing various cooking, cleaning and household duties.
A/N: In response to February's Imagination Challenge in the IYOW Community.
Disclaimer: I only own them in my head.
Chapter One
It was little more than an hour when Paul, Ringo and George ascended upon John’s Kenwood estate in an effort to help their frazzled friend.
“Okay, we’re here!” George announced, having been the first through the door. John, Julian in his arms, breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he witnessed his mates enter his modest home.
“Okay, good!” John approached them, handing Jules off to a bewildered George. “Keep ‘im busy while I make his bottle, aye?”
George, momentarily flustered, attempted to distract the curious toddler who absently uttered semi-intelligible words and phrases while examining every nook of the Beatle’s shirt.
“..bu’en…” Jules cooed, grabbing at the round objects adorning George’s shirt.
George smiled, easily.
“You like that, then?” he asked the boy, as the baby attempted to pull the buttons from off of the musician’s shirt.
Mildly concerned, George shot Paul a look, who, taking his cue, eagerly grabbed the mischievous boy from the lanky guitarist’s arm while handing off the bag of fish and chips to his friend.
“I’ve got him,” Paul assured, bouncing the youngster in his arms and being rewarded with giggles for his efforts.
Making their way to the couch, they all set about to settling into their environment; Paul dispensing Jules into his toddler seat so he could easily remove his coat. Satisfied the toddler was content, Paul sat down, and along with the others, voraciously set upon their fish and chips; thereafter, actively engaging in the accoutrements of their environment as if they were regular tenants. George and Ringo, getting up to attend to the television, made comical “asides” of the random things they witnessed while browsing channels. Alternately, Paul settled himself upon the floor next to Jules, removing him from his seat to play with the child.
John entered the living room, then; a warm bottle in his hand.
“See you’ve made yourselves at home,” he deadpanned, handing the bottle off to his doe-eyed mate before quickly grabbing and stuffing a chip in his mouth. Paul took the bottle and handed it to Jules, watching as the boy eagerly soaked up his liquid nourishment.
“So how come we were the last to know?” George suddenly inquired around a mouthful of chips as he and Ringo made their way back to the couch.
John regarded him with mild confusion before realizing what the prickly guitarist meant. Sighing deeply, he looked to his friends, sheepishly; a film of guilt in his features.
“Actually…” he began, reflexively emitting a nervous cough before continuing, “I’ve known about it for a few days now.”
George’s face fell into a mask of disbelief.
“What?” Paul pressed in annoyance.
Each of them waited as their visibly uncomfortable leader struggled to compose himself.
“Why didn’t you tell us the girls had plans to go off like that when you’ve known all along??” George challenged before John could offer up an explanation.
John’s eyes narrowed in defensiveness.
“I was afraid if I told you, you’d make them change their minds!” he huffed, causing the others to regard each other with the utmost of confusion.
It was Paul who diplomatically cut to the chase.
“John,” he gently prompted. “Why would you allow Cyn to disappear for 24hrs spending your money, anyway?”
John, slumping his shoulders, dropped his head and mumbled something downright unintelligible.
“What was that?” Paul questioned, curiously.
John exhaled impatiently, reluctantly resigned to take a “beating”.
“Cyn-bet-me-I-couldn’t-last-24 hours-taking-care-of-Jules-and-the-house-while-her-Dot-and-the-other-Beatle-skirts-threw-a-panty-party-at-our-expense-so-that’s-why-you’re-here-and-they're-there-and-that’s-that!!” John spat out as quickly as he could.
There was silence for a moment when the youngest Beatle spoke.
“So…you accepted?” George incredulously challenged.
John bristled uncomfortably.
“I have me pride, you know!” he hissed angrily; his face flushed red.
Paul’s eyes softened in empathy.
“Alright, alright….easy,” he soothed, raising a placating hand as he looked warmly over at his best friend. “We’ll make it work,” he promised, good-naturedly pausing to playfully tickle the youngest Lennon. Julian let out a screech in delight; his jovial manner infusing the formerly tense atmosphere with a sense of optimistic calm.
George, however, wasn’t as easily convinced.
“Don’t know what you expect us to do, John,” he scowled in irritation. “You’re not gonna have me washing dishes and cleaning toilets!”
John’s face fell in disappointment, realizing he was, indeed, asking his hard-scrabbled Liverpool mates to buck tradition and do the work normally assigned to women. Blokes just didn’t do that sort of thing, after all.
“Well…um…” John stammered uncomfortably, wondering if he’d made a big mistake.
Concerned, Paul picked up Jules, offering up a parting tickle before dispensing him back into his seat. Instinctively, he grabbed a stuffed toy a few feet away, giving it to the toddler before turning his attention to the others.
“You know..it’s not such a big deal….24 hours…” he began, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, John’s right,” he carefully continued, eyeing George and Ringo’s surprised reactions. “How would it look if he’d said ‘no’?”
George crossed his arms and bristled.
“It’d look like we’d at least have 24 hours of snogging and shagging with our birds,” he grumbled bitterly.
Ringo moved closer to the guitarist, warmly laying his hand upon his shoulder.
“It’ll be alright, luv,” he assured, encouragingly. “Johnny meant no harm.”
“There, ya see!” John shot back defensively, yet the look of worry hadn’t left his features.
Paul sensed John’s deep embarrassment; his unwillingness to admit his blunder giving way to defensiveness, and walked over to stand beside him in a show of visible support.
“Come on lads..24 hours! And we get to show the girls we can do this!” he encouraged, adding, “…besides, you’re both here!”
George shrugged his shoulders in indifference.
“I just came to find out what this was all about,” he offered, his former irritation softening considerably.
Paul, having heard George’s excuse, expectantly regarded their diminutive drummer.
“..I just came,” Ringo admitted, good-naturedly.
John shot Paul a mischievous look and smirked.
“Well, then…good for you,” he dryly stated, his remark causing the others to giggle like naughty schoolboys.
Paul waited a beat for the dust of their jovial moment to settle before regarding George and Ringo in seriousness.
“Well..I’d like to think you’re both here to help John, as well,” he challenged, catching Ringo’s nods and grunts in affirmation before casting a hopeful look at their youngest bandmate.
George reached for another chip before speaking.
“True,’ he conceded, biting into his morsel before leaning his head thoughtfully back against the sofa headrest and stretching his legs out before him.
“Can’t have him destroying his home and all that. Not if we can help him,” George winked devilishly.
Paul chuckled lightly.
“Sure,” he agreed warmly, amused by George’s double-entendre. The youngest Beatle really did look up to their temperamental leader, after all.
John smiled brightly at this.
“Okay, it’s settled, then!” he slapped his hands together in triumph. “We start after lunch!”
With new-found enthusiasm, John generously helped himself to the fish and chips; dropping to the floor with his plated-feast and voraciously setting upon his meal. The sounds of the telly, their voices and the occasional cooing of the youngest Lennon provided the perfect backdrop for this moment; suddenly shattered by a few biting syllables that cut through the air.
“Shit! I just realized something!” Paul, who had been sitting beside John and engaging in his own feast, cried.
The others turned to regard the bassist expectantly.
“What is it your Holiness has suddenly come to know?” John intoned in mock reverence.
Paul looked over at him, his mouth agape.
“Jane said she ‘forgot’ to tell me Cyn had told her about her plans!”
“Yes?” John prompted, a little confused.
Paul looked over at George and Ringo before setting his plate down and addressing his friends.
“Point is..she knew about it!” he hissed. “She had all that time to tell me..and she didn’t!”
“Yeah!” George suddenly leaned forward in realization. “Patty, too! They wanted to leave us just as much as John wanted to make sure that they went!”
“Rotten, that,” Ringo’s sad eyes fell to the floor. “Maureen told me ‘bout half hour before she left. Said she had ‘forgotten’, too.”
“Why, those little fiends!” Paul raised a fist in the air. “Pretending all along it was last minute they remembered! Bet they didn’t want to tell us ‘cause they were afraid we were gonna talk them out of it!” he finished.
John looked around at the suddenly doleful faces that surrounded him; concerned before realizing that the attention and focus for blame was now unceremoniously off of him.
Crossing his arms in self-satisfied victory, John leaned back against the edge of his coffee table, and smiled.
Chapter Three
Author: Jo cozyjo
Rating: PG
Timeframe: 1965
Pairing: John/Paul
Summary: Cyn bets John he can’t survive 24 hours while she takes the housekeeper and the other Beatle girls out for a day of shopping and then an overnight stay at a London hotel. Never one to back down from a challenge, John accepts, enlisting the aid of his fellow Beatle mates in caring for Jules and performing various cooking, cleaning and household duties.
A/N: In response to February's Imagination Challenge in the IYOW Community.
Disclaimer: I only own them in my head.
Chapter One
It was little more than an hour when Paul, Ringo and George ascended upon John’s Kenwood estate in an effort to help their frazzled friend.
“Okay, we’re here!” George announced, having been the first through the door. John, Julian in his arms, breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he witnessed his mates enter his modest home.
“Okay, good!” John approached them, handing Jules off to a bewildered George. “Keep ‘im busy while I make his bottle, aye?”
George, momentarily flustered, attempted to distract the curious toddler who absently uttered semi-intelligible words and phrases while examining every nook of the Beatle’s shirt.
“..bu’en…” Jules cooed, grabbing at the round objects adorning George’s shirt.
George smiled, easily.
“You like that, then?” he asked the boy, as the baby attempted to pull the buttons from off of the musician’s shirt.
Mildly concerned, George shot Paul a look, who, taking his cue, eagerly grabbed the mischievous boy from the lanky guitarist’s arm while handing off the bag of fish and chips to his friend.
“I’ve got him,” Paul assured, bouncing the youngster in his arms and being rewarded with giggles for his efforts.
Making their way to the couch, they all set about to settling into their environment; Paul dispensing Jules into his toddler seat so he could easily remove his coat. Satisfied the toddler was content, Paul sat down, and along with the others, voraciously set upon their fish and chips; thereafter, actively engaging in the accoutrements of their environment as if they were regular tenants. George and Ringo, getting up to attend to the television, made comical “asides” of the random things they witnessed while browsing channels. Alternately, Paul settled himself upon the floor next to Jules, removing him from his seat to play with the child.
John entered the living room, then; a warm bottle in his hand.
“See you’ve made yourselves at home,” he deadpanned, handing the bottle off to his doe-eyed mate before quickly grabbing and stuffing a chip in his mouth. Paul took the bottle and handed it to Jules, watching as the boy eagerly soaked up his liquid nourishment.
“So how come we were the last to know?” George suddenly inquired around a mouthful of chips as he and Ringo made their way back to the couch.
John regarded him with mild confusion before realizing what the prickly guitarist meant. Sighing deeply, he looked to his friends, sheepishly; a film of guilt in his features.
“Actually…” he began, reflexively emitting a nervous cough before continuing, “I’ve known about it for a few days now.”
George’s face fell into a mask of disbelief.
“What?” Paul pressed in annoyance.
Each of them waited as their visibly uncomfortable leader struggled to compose himself.
“Why didn’t you tell us the girls had plans to go off like that when you’ve known all along??” George challenged before John could offer up an explanation.
John’s eyes narrowed in defensiveness.
“I was afraid if I told you, you’d make them change their minds!” he huffed, causing the others to regard each other with the utmost of confusion.
It was Paul who diplomatically cut to the chase.
“John,” he gently prompted. “Why would you allow Cyn to disappear for 24hrs spending your money, anyway?”
John, slumping his shoulders, dropped his head and mumbled something downright unintelligible.
“What was that?” Paul questioned, curiously.
John exhaled impatiently, reluctantly resigned to take a “beating”.
“Cyn-bet-me-I-couldn’t-last-24 hours-taking-care-of-Jules-and-the-house-while-her-Dot-and-the-other-Beatle-skirts-threw-a-panty-party-at-our-expense-so-that’s-why-you’re-here-and-they're-there-and-that’s-that!!” John spat out as quickly as he could.
There was silence for a moment when the youngest Beatle spoke.
“So…you accepted?” George incredulously challenged.
John bristled uncomfortably.
“I have me pride, you know!” he hissed angrily; his face flushed red.
Paul’s eyes softened in empathy.
“Alright, alright….easy,” he soothed, raising a placating hand as he looked warmly over at his best friend. “We’ll make it work,” he promised, good-naturedly pausing to playfully tickle the youngest Lennon. Julian let out a screech in delight; his jovial manner infusing the formerly tense atmosphere with a sense of optimistic calm.
George, however, wasn’t as easily convinced.
“Don’t know what you expect us to do, John,” he scowled in irritation. “You’re not gonna have me washing dishes and cleaning toilets!”
John’s face fell in disappointment, realizing he was, indeed, asking his hard-scrabbled Liverpool mates to buck tradition and do the work normally assigned to women. Blokes just didn’t do that sort of thing, after all.
“Well…um…” John stammered uncomfortably, wondering if he’d made a big mistake.
Concerned, Paul picked up Jules, offering up a parting tickle before dispensing him back into his seat. Instinctively, he grabbed a stuffed toy a few feet away, giving it to the toddler before turning his attention to the others.
“You know..it’s not such a big deal….24 hours…” he began, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, John’s right,” he carefully continued, eyeing George and Ringo’s surprised reactions. “How would it look if he’d said ‘no’?”
George crossed his arms and bristled.
“It’d look like we’d at least have 24 hours of snogging and shagging with our birds,” he grumbled bitterly.
Ringo moved closer to the guitarist, warmly laying his hand upon his shoulder.
“It’ll be alright, luv,” he assured, encouragingly. “Johnny meant no harm.”
“There, ya see!” John shot back defensively, yet the look of worry hadn’t left his features.
Paul sensed John’s deep embarrassment; his unwillingness to admit his blunder giving way to defensiveness, and walked over to stand beside him in a show of visible support.
“Come on lads..24 hours! And we get to show the girls we can do this!” he encouraged, adding, “…besides, you’re both here!”
George shrugged his shoulders in indifference.
“I just came to find out what this was all about,” he offered, his former irritation softening considerably.
Paul, having heard George’s excuse, expectantly regarded their diminutive drummer.
“..I just came,” Ringo admitted, good-naturedly.
John shot Paul a mischievous look and smirked.
“Well, then…good for you,” he dryly stated, his remark causing the others to giggle like naughty schoolboys.
Paul waited a beat for the dust of their jovial moment to settle before regarding George and Ringo in seriousness.
“Well..I’d like to think you’re both here to help John, as well,” he challenged, catching Ringo’s nods and grunts in affirmation before casting a hopeful look at their youngest bandmate.
George reached for another chip before speaking.
“True,’ he conceded, biting into his morsel before leaning his head thoughtfully back against the sofa headrest and stretching his legs out before him.
“Can’t have him destroying his home and all that. Not if we can help him,” George winked devilishly.
Paul chuckled lightly.
“Sure,” he agreed warmly, amused by George’s double-entendre. The youngest Beatle really did look up to their temperamental leader, after all.
John smiled brightly at this.
“Okay, it’s settled, then!” he slapped his hands together in triumph. “We start after lunch!”
With new-found enthusiasm, John generously helped himself to the fish and chips; dropping to the floor with his plated-feast and voraciously setting upon his meal. The sounds of the telly, their voices and the occasional cooing of the youngest Lennon provided the perfect backdrop for this moment; suddenly shattered by a few biting syllables that cut through the air.
“Shit! I just realized something!” Paul, who had been sitting beside John and engaging in his own feast, cried.
The others turned to regard the bassist expectantly.
“What is it your Holiness has suddenly come to know?” John intoned in mock reverence.
Paul looked over at him, his mouth agape.
“Jane said she ‘forgot’ to tell me Cyn had told her about her plans!”
“Yes?” John prompted, a little confused.
Paul looked over at George and Ringo before setting his plate down and addressing his friends.
“Point is..she knew about it!” he hissed. “She had all that time to tell me..and she didn’t!”
“Yeah!” George suddenly leaned forward in realization. “Patty, too! They wanted to leave us just as much as John wanted to make sure that they went!”
“Rotten, that,” Ringo’s sad eyes fell to the floor. “Maureen told me ‘bout half hour before she left. Said she had ‘forgotten’, too.”
“Why, those little fiends!” Paul raised a fist in the air. “Pretending all along it was last minute they remembered! Bet they didn’t want to tell us ‘cause they were afraid we were gonna talk them out of it!” he finished.
John looked around at the suddenly doleful faces that surrounded him; concerned before realizing that the attention and focus for blame was now unceremoniously off of him.
Crossing his arms in self-satisfied victory, John leaned back against the edge of his coffee table, and smiled.
Chapter Three