Chapter Text
George blearily opened his eyes only to hear Brian furiously pounding on their door.
“Shit!” He jumped out of the covers, rolling out of bed and onto the carpeted floor. Brian was gonna kill them. “Johnny. John. John. Wake up,”, he said while throwing his shoe in the general direction of the mound huddled underneath a pile of blankets. How he still managed to sleep through the cacophony of Eppy’s screams was beyond him.
“JOHN WAKE THE HELL UP WANKER” he yelled as he grabbed onto the other’s shoulders. This seemed shake John a bit too much as the man’s eyes suddenly shot open and looked widely across the hotel room. “what, WHAT HAZZA?!”
There was a brief silence.
“The conference is in 20 minutes.”
Another pause.
“You’re havin’ me on!”
“No, lad. You hear Eppy outside? Bout to skin us, he is.” John seemed to lay in shock for a moment before shooting up.
“Fucking Hell!” He scrambled out of bed and ran off the loo, tripping all over the place in the process.
In the meantime, George began to dress himself for the conference that they were supposed to leave for 15 minutes ago. Pulling on his shoes, he almost jumped out of his skin as a frazzled Paul suddenly burst into the hotel room, half dressed.
“Where the FUCK ARE MY CUFFLINKS” he demanded, huffing and puffing as he clawed through both John and George’s luggage in the center of the room. As much Paul claimed to adore touring, he would always be the first to snap at the first inconvenience.
George, shaking out of his initial shock, finally reached out and opened the drawer next to him “They’re here, THEY’RE HERE” He said, handing them to him. he couldn't help but snicker. “Jesus, Paul” he almost burst out laughing looking at wide, crazed look in the other’s eyes. “Calm down.” He said, attempting to soothe the man in front of him. “We’ll only be a little late.”
Paul shook his head furiously while fixing his sleeves. “How did this even happen?”
A voice answered from the other room.
“Power outage sometime last night, I think. Reset our alarm clocks.” George saw Ringo somewhere in his peripheral vision, trying to down a cup of tea as fast as he could.
“Then how the fuck is Brian awake on time, then?” John's nasal voice grumbled, now fully dressed except for jacket and tie.
“Dunno” replied Ringo “‘E must be something else, I suppose.”
———
They all piled into the car, Brian’s eyes boring into each of their skulls.
“ For the last time, It’s not our fault, Eppy!” Scoffed John as plumped down into his seat.
“I suppose I should act as your nanny from now on as well, Hrm, John? Wake you up in time for school? Be your mother?” Replied the manager, still steaming. George could see the annoyance and panic in his face. Him of all people would hate for the Beatles to get a bad rap due to constant tardiness.
“I’d for one love for you to be me mam, Eppy,” he retorted, licking his lips and fluttering his eyelashes. Brian tried to ignore the flush in his cheeks as the rest of the band dissolved into giggles.
“Oh, Shut up John. We’re going to be late as is.”