Really, loads.
But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to come home too. Ok, so it wasn’t that simple. John and Ringo lived in a different part of the country from their significant others, and Paul only saw Jane every now and then. It was hard.
But still…
George squeezed his eyes shut tight. Tomorrow he would get a girlfriend. And that was to be his final thought before he went to sleep, he decided. Except it wasn’t so and he lay in the quiet still ness for another ten minutes, his mind running rampant with chord progressions and key signatures.
Would Brian have a sleeping pill maybe?
Right, that was his very last thought, and now he was shutting his brain off.
Damn it.
When George had been small he’d always had trouble getting to sleep. It was horrible being eight and when most kids dreaded sleeping, actually wanting nothing more then to close your eyes and have a nice dreamy.
Gabby had been the opposite. She didn’t like sleeping, and quite profoundly as an eight year old called it a waste of time. Nonetheless, when her mummy stuck her in bed and sat with her for ten minutes even, Gabby would be out like a light.
But then George found a cure for his insomnia. He discovered that when sleeping in the same bed as Gabby she had he unfortunate habit of snuggling up to his back like he was her stuffed bear. And strangely enough, having her there, with her small little legs sticking into his back, her arms balled up in the material of his shirt, George fell asleep faster then anything.
And much to Mrs. Gallagher’s relief, Gabby liked going to sleep so long as George was in her bed. And Louise didn’t mind, it was just one less bed she would have to make if her son practically lived next door.
George wet his lips and pushed his hair off his forehead so it stuck up. He was suddenly hot and through the covers off his bed. Right, sleeping pill was the only answer.
He plodded out of bed and into the kitchen in search of something he hoped would be clearly marked ‘sleeping pills’ but he highly doubted it. On the way down the hall he heard Ringo’s door shut as the drummer Beatle went to bed.
George sighed.
Then he front door creaked open and he jumped a bout a foot in the air, yelping in surprise. Gabby’s dark head appeared around the door and she frowned at him.
“Christ, Gab,” George shook his hand through is hair, making it stand up even more. “Coming in all fucking hours of the night!”
“Oh shut up,” she blushed, shutting the door behind her and tossing her purse on couch.
George raised his eyebrows. She was grinning madly and seemed to go all daft and girly like for some reason.
“Hang on,” he sighed. “What’s got you all happy, now?”
“Nothing!” she insisted. “I just went out with Eryn…you know,” she prodded at his blank face. “Your secretary at Abby Road.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“She’s lovely. We met some of her friends, and this band called the Factory Workers; bloody lead singers’ a bird. You’d like ‘em all, I think.”
“Ok,” George shook his head. “I’m going to bed.” He moved into the kitchen and started rifling through pantries in search of pills.
“Ok,” Gabby say slowly. “Mind if I wear one of your shirts to sleep in?”
“Why bother to ask?” George muttered, not turning around. “You’ll do it either way.”
“Oh, I do love you, Georgie,” she giggled, heading for his bedroom. When she returned to the kitchen dressed in a dark blue button down and knickers, George was still rifling about the cupboards, muttering darkly to himself in his p.j.s.
“What, pray tell, are you searching for?” she asked. “Brian’s sleeping pills are on the third shelf down over the cutlery.”
George gave her an exasperated look and moved over there. He took down a bottle and shook two in his hand and offered her some. Gabby cocked her head to the side, the allure of drug-induced emotions proving too strong. “Have we anywhere to be tomorrow?” she asked.
George shrugged and downed the pills without water. “No Abby Road ‘till two.”
She grinned and took two pills as well. And then she turned and headed for George’s bedroom again. George looked at her as she snuggled down under the quilt
“I thought you were sleeping on the sofa while you stayed here?” he asked dryly.
“D’you mind?”
“Yes actually, this is my bed,” he said pulling back the cupboards. His shirt rose up on her thigh distractingly, George couldn’t remember why he would want her to sleep on the couch. No good reason at all.
Gabby looked down at her leg and tugged the shirt down
George covered with. “Bloody good thing you’re eating normally again. You’re not a scarecrow anymore,” he said climbing into bed and snuggled up against her.
Gabby played with his hair for a while, and George’s breathing evened out, his hands on her waist traced small patterns. She thought he was asleep but then George muttered, “Hey I’ve a question.”
“Eh?” she mumbled.
His hand slid up the side of her thigh and she sucked in a breath. “What?”
“Do you think I should write songs?”
Gabby sighed and laid her head on his chest. “Do what you want Georgie.”
