Work Text:
-1965-
You gazed at yourself in the bedroom mirror, anxiously deciding how to go about dressing for tonight.
You and John had been invited to a swinging dance party by one of his musician friends, Roland “Bucky” Jameson, and you couldn’t wait to go.
Despite all the songs he sang about it with his band, John never really seemed to be that much into dancing. You had seen him dance a little bit when he was trying to be goofy and make you laugh, but you had been begging him for ages to actually take you out somewhere to dance for real. A nightclub, a concert venue, a crappy little garden party, anything! Hell! You’d even be up for dancing at the local roller rink if you could learn some skating moves without breaking your neck in the process.
Just somewhere where the two of you could cut loose, get your groove on, and really enjoy yourselves.
And finally, finally the opportunity presented itself! You couldn’t be happier.
But now you had the task of deciding your outfit, and you weren’t a hundred percent sure how to go about doing so.
Obviously, you wanted something stylish. That was a given. You didn’t care about making others turn their heads, though. Instead, you cared more about what you thought looked cool, what you thought looked “hip”. And if anything, you wanted to turn John's head more than anyone else.
John loved your sense of fashion. It was colorful. Crazy. Different. You loved to blend different colors and patterns and mix and match unconventional accessories. It was such a far cry from what everyone else was wearing, that he couldn’t help but find the adventurousness endearing. It was quite similar to how he was, in fact. Always marching to the beat of his own drum, always going out of his way to shock and bewilder others in ways that were fun and innocent (well, for the most part anyways).
It was another reason you two clicked so well. Neither of you couldn’t give a single crap what anyone else thought of you.
Well…actually that was kinda debatable.
Again, just like your Johnny, there was still a little insecure and rather sensitive side to you that hid in the depths of your mind. A nagging, little voice that despite how confident you tried to be, would assault you with a hundred different reasons why you shouldn’t be confident, you shouldn’t be proud of who you were, how you looked, or how you dressed. A nagging, little voice that was determined to keep you chained to the awfully boring and sometimes even despicably mean expectations of society.
The newspaper journalists had already decided to attack John over his fluctuating weight, something that he hadn’t even noticed - something that you hadn’t even noticed - until they brought it up. He was in tears the day he saw the tabloids plaguing store shelves.
“JOHN LENNON: The Fat Beatle” the headlines read.
It was fucking heartbreaking. You had never seen John so sad before.
He sobbed on your shoulder, repeatedly asking questions like “Do I look fat to you?”, “Do these pants look like they’re getting tight on me?”, “Do I really eat too much?”.
The answer to each, of course, was a resounding no from you. And you meant it.
Was John perhaps getting bigger? Maybe just a little bit, but you loved him regardless.
He was huggably soft and cuddly. His chubby little cheeks were just right for kissing and playfully pinching when things got steamy, and his thick thighs felt wonderful wrapped around your waist when the two of you slept together. You reassured him it didn’t matter to you, that it would never matter to you, and that you would always love him for him.
And he promised the same in return for you.
In a world full of ill-tempered critics and harsh standards, you at the very least had each other.
And, well, there was something quite beautiful about that.
You rifled through your dresser drawers, leafing through messy piles of shirts, skirts, and lingerie, when you finally put together the perfect ensemble: A gorgeous black leather miniskirt, a fuzzy, red and black striped turtleneck, black fishnets, and a pair of black leather go-go boots that matched beautifully.
And you had something very special to top it all off with.
You opened up the lid to your jewelry box and pulled it out.
There it was. A black leather dog collar adorned with tiny, metal spikes.
You couldn’t for the life of you remember where you bought it, but you remember absolutely adoring it at first glance. You tried it on at the shop and not only did it fit perfectly, it made you look like an absolute badass as well. You couldn’t resist. You just had to take it home with you, and you would ultimately end up saving it for a night like tonight.
You got dressed and posed in the mirror once more. You snapped the collar around your neck and stared back at your reflection, your breath quivering with curiosity.
You looked smokin’ hot, and you knew John was going to think so too.
*knock knock knock*
“Darlinnnnng…it’s me, Johnnyyyy…” Sang out a voice from behind the door.
Speak of the devil himself!
“Are you finished in there yet, dear? You’ve been getting ready for ages!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” You responded playfully. “Cover your eyes though! I want to surprise you with something!”
“Oooh a surprise?! Lucky me!”
“You’re not looking, right?”
“Of course not, dear! Now lemme in!”
You opened the door and there John stood, hands over his eyes and licking his lips wildly.
“Oooh, what is my sexy little girl wearing today?” He pondered aloud as you guided him to the bed and sat him down.
“Okay…and…now!”
John uncovered his eyes and looked you over from bottom to top.
“Oooh…hello gorge…ous? Um, sweetheart…what’s that?”
Sure enough, John was eyeing your collar. You giggled.
“It’s called a choker, silly. Do you like it?”
He got up off the bed and approached you, lifting his hand and peering closely at the leather strap. The sharp, little studs definitely made it clear that it was in fact intended for an animal.
“It’s quite…spiky…” He said quietly, admiring the silver.
“It’s just for looks, honey. I thought it would go great with the outfit.”
He gave you a great, big hug, kissing you on the tip of your nose. He pulled away and smiled at you, sitting back on the bed.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart…”
Your face flushed at the compliment.
“But…”
You froze.
“What? But what?”
“…The collar…I mean, choker…is a bit of a rather…bold choice, love. There’s a good chance there’s going to be a lot of people at this party. Are you sure you can handle the stares?”
You couldn’t lie, you were definitely a little worried about that. Eye contact always made you nervous, especially from strangers. You were moreso worried about people saying rude things to you, however. But, you found people really only said things to you about what you wore when you were alone, not when you were with John. So if anything, having Johnny by your side at the party would’ve been a bit of a confidence boost in itself.
“Well…I figured being with you would make me more comfortable.”
John nodded, and gave you another hug, squeezing you tight.
“Awww don’t worry, pretty little lady…” He cooed. “Johnny’s here, Johnny will protect you. Johnny will always be here for you.”
You grinned, your face buried into his chest. He smelled softly of cigarettes and cedar wood.
“Thank you, honey….”
“Of course, dear…now come on! We don’t want to be late to the shindig!” He sang out.
Turns out Bucky lived surprisingly close by, a mere thirty minute walk from John’s flat. The two of you headed out the door, hand in hand. John wore a funky, colorful, floral button-up, cowboy jeans, and his signature round glasses. You looked at him and smiled.
He always tried to play the role of the “cool” Beatle for the press, but here with you, he was a lovably dorky Buddy Holly wannabe.
You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
He lit up a cigarette while you reached over and nipped his cheek with your finger and thumb.
“Ow! Quit it!” He chuckled.
“I can’t help it, you’re just so gosh darn CUTE!” You teased back, kissing his cheek.
You soon arrived at Bucky’s bungalow, and things were already livening up. In the front garden, multiple groups of partygoers stood and chatted, cocktails in hand. Someone had fired up a grill and was making sausages for the crowd, and a big cooler sat off to the side, stuffed full of soda pop and beer.
As you made your way across the lawn, several attendants looked at John and waved, and he happily waved back.
“‘Ello! How are you?” He beamed, before turning back to you.
You couldn’t help but notice some people were looking at you funny. A group of young women, probably no older than you, eyed you up and down, then turned to each other and appeared to whisper and snicker. You began to grow a bit self conscious. You shook it off and tried to distract yourself.
“Wow, Bucky sure knows a lot of people…” You said in surprise.
“Yeah, he’s got a lot of connections to people in the industry. Songwriters, sound engineers, talent scouts, the like. You might even see a few other musicians here, too.”
You walked up the steps to Bucky’s porch, and John opened the front door and held it open for you.
You hesitated, taking a step back.
How many more people would there be here anyways? You really didn’t feel like getting laughed at all night long.
John took note of your nervous body language and gave you a gentle smile.
“‘S okay, love. Don’t fret. Johnny’s gotcha…” He reassured in his golden voice, stretching out his hand to you.
You smiled back at him and took his hand, following him inside.
And you thought the front garden was mobbed.
Throughout the swanky interior of Bucky’s house, loads of people were in every corner of every room. You felt your anxiety spike just glancing around at it all.
In the living room, a piano player was plunking out some tunes while guests drunkenly lounged on the sofa. A hired bartender whipped up drinks for people sitting at the kitchen counter, and a long, long table of snacks and goodies stretched along the center of the dining room.
“Oooh, shish kabobs! And pigs in a blanket!” John exclaimed. “Stay right here, love. I’m gonna go grab us a plate.” He said with a wink. You nodded and leaned up against the wall, glancing around at the various streamers and party decorations while he grabbed a pair of tongs and scoured the spread.
You were looking down at your boots when you started to feel…off.
You looked up, and sure enough someone was looking at you.
Multiple people were. Another group of women, in fact, and they were all talking amongst each other. Whispering. Pointing. Laughing.
They weren’t at all trying to be subtle, either.
“What is that she’s wearing? A collar?”
“A collar?! What does she think she is, some kind of dog?!”
“Hopefully Bucky remembered to put in some water bowls so she doesn’t go thirsty, haha!”
Your face turned bright red as your blood began to run cold.
Thankfully, John came sauntering back with two plates full of hors d'oeuvres.
“Here you are, love…” He said with a gentle smile.
You looked down at your plate and gasped.
“They have cornichons?! You remembered I like cornichons?!”
“Of course, dear. You beat the silly name into me head when I brought them home from the supermarket. How could I forget?” He giggled.
“Awww thank you, Johnny!”
Your heart melted at John’s attention to detail, and you happily crunched down on one of the little gherkins.
John leaned in slowly.
“I couldn’t help but notice you looked a bit uncomfortable a second ago, dear. Is everything alright?” He whispered.
You paused for a moment and finished swallowing your chewed-up pickle.
“Uh…well…actually…”
You told him what had happened and John looked up at the crowd of ladies with vitriol.
“I’ll be right back…”
Your heart went up in your throat. John tended to be rather unpredictable when he was mad, and you hoped he wouldn’t make a scene. Even if it was at his friend’s house, the last thing that needed to be in the papers the next day was a crazy beef between UK superstar John Lennon and some catty, bitchy bimbos.
John walked up behind one of them, stuck a finger up his nose, and…oh god…pulled out a big, green, gooey booger. He hid his hand behind him, and poked the woman’s shoulder.
“‘Ello, love!”
“Well hello there, handsome…” She cooed back.
“Say love, I couldn’t help but notice you have something on your face…”
She patted around her cheeks and blushed.
“W-Where? I don’t feel anything…”
He leaned in close and squinted.
“Riiiiiight….there!” He grinned, taking his finger and softly smearing his disgusting, rubbery snot across her forehead.
“Ta-da!” He exclaimed, biting his lip as he held back his laughter. “All gone now!”
She smiled and turned back to her friends, only to be met with a chorus of uproarious laughter and relentless teasing. She gasped, touched her face, looked at John’s boogie in her hand and retched, running to the bathroom to presumably wash her face, or possibly even throw up.
It was awful.
It was straight-up diabolical.
It made your stomach turn with disgust.
But you had to admit…it was pretty funny.
You hid snickers behind your hand as you watched the whole debacle unfold.
John came running back to you with a big, childlike grin on his face.
“Didja see me, love? That was quite the bait-and-switch, eh?”
“John Winston Lennon, you are absolutely revolting in every way, shape, and form.” You chuckled. He simply fluttered his eyelashes and kissed your cheek.
“Perhaps…but you still love me anyhow, right dear?”
“Of course I do, silly. Now go wash your hands, you pig!”
John snorted and made his way to the loo while you stayed behind and giddily finished eating your pickles, completely forgetting about what had upset you just minutes before.
The rest of the night seemed to be going pretty well, and the two of you mixed and mingled with the crowd. John came across some familiar faces from various Beatles-related projects and introduced you to each, and they warmed up to you with great enthusiasm. Strangely enough however, neither of you had seen Bucky anywhere. John had expected him to be hanging out in the living room with the other guests getting drunk off his ass, but that wasn’t the case.
As for your anxiety, it had gone down considerably. John was doing his best to keep you happy and loosened up, and although you still got the occasional odd stare and laugh, you were slowly learning to ignore it.
At one point a friend of Bucky’s announced it was time to dance, and set up the stereo console. Wilson Pickett’s “Land Of 1000 Dances” started to play, and everybody made their way to the living room to jam along with the record.
John grinned at you and held out his arms, gesturing to the dance floor.
“And now, dear lass, the moment you’ve been waiting for…let’s cut a rug, shall we?”
You nodded and followed his lead.
The two of you went wild, jiving and twisting along with the others. You were having the time of your life!
…Until you slipped on a fallen cocktail napkin and fell onto your butt.
John gasped, rushing over to you and helping you off the floor.
“Are you alright, dear? That was quite a nasty fall.”
“I’m fine!” You giggled. You were too busy having fun to even get mad, you just laughed and dusted yourself off. John giggled along with you too, and gave you a great, big hug.
Suddenly, you heard nearby voices start to giggle.
“Christ, what is with Lennon’s girlfriend?! First she wears a dog collar, and now she’s got two left feet!”
“No wonder she landed on her ass, how can anyone dance in those trashy boots?”
Any hint of joy you were feeling immediately disappeared, your face heating up and becoming flushed at the sound of those harsh words.
Thankfully, it wasn’t just you who heard it this time.
John heard it too.
His head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at a young couple that were very obviously trash talking you. His ears turned red, and he let go of you, stomping over to confront them.
“Aw, piss off ya CUNTS!” He shouted, making everyone in the house zip around in his direction.
Oh sweet Jesus John, what the hell are you doing?!
“You’ve got some BLOODY nerve talking about me girl like that, as if you two Neanderthals are any kind of FUCKING prize! SOD OFF, THE BLEEDING LOT OF YA!”
The couple were stunned beyond belief, and quickly fled from John. John huffed and puffed in place, catching his breath and trying to calm himself down.
“Is that Mr. Lennon, I hear~?” Another voice rung out. You and John both turned around and to your surprise, there was Bucky. He stood there, all dolled up in a snazzy white suit, a striped tie, and black Chelsea boots. He wore a single gold earring on his left earlobe, and he donned thick square-rimmed glasses.
“Bucky!” John called out with a smile, and he ran up to the man and hugged him.
“Welcome, John! It feels like it’s been ages. Come with me, we’ll get some champagne…” He said, grabbing John's arm.
“Oh uh, that’s great Bucky, but I want to introduce you to someone very spec-”
“Come on, come on, Lennon…” Bucky responded quickly, practically dragging John out of his shoes. “No time to waste.”
You attempted to approach Bucky on your own.
“Oh, Bucky…I mean Mr. Roland, sir, I want to thank you very much for inviting us-”
“Pardon me, miss. Kinda busy at the moment.” He replied coldly, shoulder checking you on his way through. “Oh, and by the way, you’re on the wrong street if you’re looking for the red light district.”
You gasped.
You couldn’t believe what you had just heard.
John’s face dropped. He planted both feet firmly on the floor, bringing Bucky’s aggressive pulling to a halt.
“What the fuck did you just say about the love of me life?” He asked quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in an ice cold scowl.
Bucky suddenly shrunk, realizing right then and there how much he had fucked himself.
“Ah…heh heh…just a friendly joke among men, eh Johnny?"
John's eyes darkened maliciously.
“Oh, I see…a little joke, eh? Just having a bit of a laugh, right?”
“Yeah! Yeah, a bit of a good ‘ol laugh, just like old times...”
“Well then…since you like to laugh so much, allow me to share my favorite joke, Fuckface…”
John crept closer and closer to Bucky until he was practically towering over him. He lifted his left arm, grabbed Bucky by the throat, and brought up his right fist.
THWACK!
John walloped Bucky right in the nose, sending him flying across the living room and into the dining room table, collapsing the snack spread and smashing several bottles of wine along with it. Bucky had landed right on top of a cake, completely covering the ass of his pearly white suit in thick, blue frosting, while red wine poured all over him, drenching the parts of him that weren’t hit with colored sugar in a dark red mess that would most likely be impossible to get out. Bucky groaned and held his nose, as blood started to gush out onto the floor.
The crowd was stunned silent, and the music and dancing had come to a grinding halt.
“Isn’t that hilarious?!” John beamed devilishly, leaning over the disheveled man in front of him. “Hope your dry cleaning covers that! FUCK YOU!”
And with that, John turned around, took your arm in his, and looked you deep in the eyes.
“Let’s go.” He said in utter disgust.
Night had fallen as the two of you left Bucky’s house. John had his arm gently wrapped around the small of your back, your head leaning on his shoulder as you both walked back home.
“I can’t believe I was ever friends with that guy. I still can’t believe he spoke to you like that. What a right prick. All his snobbish mates too. What a pompous bunch of prats they were.”
“Y’know, you didn’t have to knock the daylights out of him, Johnny…”
John looked down at you and smiled.
“Yeah…perhaps I could’ve handled that better…” He chuckled.
He pulled you close and kissed you on the lips, squeezing you tightly.
You continued on the path back home, admiring the nature surrounding you. The rippling stream you had passed on the way there was still flowing along, while fireflies surrounded the weeping willow trees along the sidewalk. Streetlamps were lit up rather dimly, providing a moody, mellow series of blue lights down the street.
“You know, I can’t remember a single time we’ve gone for a night walk around here.”
“Me either.” John replied. “It’s very nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s wonderful, Johnny…”
John suddenly stopped in his tracks, squeezing your hand.
“What’re you do-whoa!”
John wrapped an arm around your back and dropped you low, linking his fingers between yours and leaning down so your noses met. He looked passionately into your eyes and smiled softly.
“May I have this dance, love?”
You looked up at him, smiled, and nodded.
The two of you giddily danced into the night, surrounded by fireflies and the ambience of crickets, bullfrogs, and softly flowing water.
You could’ve sworn you heard music too, but perhaps it was just your imagination.