Chapter Text
George didn’t think he could ever get used to this.
The babying, “thinking little”, in John’s words, had been a daunting experience. As much as it comforted him in the moment (and likely helped in the long-run for that tour..), it took much longer for that shame to fade.
George avoided the topic like the plague, only giving into those childish needs whenever one of his bandmates dragged him to bed. He could justify cuddling, but that was where he drew the line! It didn’t matter how nice it was— it was embarrassing, and frankly, a bit queer!
The logical part of his mind argued that he shouldn’t care, due to it being a private affair and all. And he liked most queers, so what was the issue?
It was different for him, the emotional side of his brain supplied.
George went months without “being little” after that. He directed all of his energy to music, finally writing more in hopes it would occupy his mind. They weren’t exactly good songs though, not yet at least..
But he found that he was having fun anyways, scribbling down chord progressions and lyrics while kicking his feet, hidden away from his three roommates. It really started to feel like he could achieve that same floaty feeling while actually acting like an adult, and a productive member of the band at that!
Until he played one of his songs for them.
“Ah, well..” Paul smiled after he finished, somewhat placating. “Y’know, I think it’s got some potential!”
“Interesting chorus, Georgie-boy,” John pat him on the shoulder, teasing. “Sounds a bit more like a nursery rhyme. Doesn’t it, Paul?”
George shrugged John’s hand off, shooting him a glare as he hugged his guitar closer. “It doesn’t…”
He cringed at the sound of his voice. It was so small, so whiney. Hardly suitable for an adult man, let alone a Beatle.
Paul hummed, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “You might be right, Johnny!”
George huffed, fighting the urge to stomp his foot in anger.
“It’s not a nurs- nursery rhyme, you gits!” George stuttered, fighting himself to get the right words out. He always found it hard to talk when he..
“Feel little yet, Georgie?” John ruffled his hair, bringing him into a firm side hug. “Been a while since we’ve seen Little Georgie, where did he go?”
So that’s what they were after. George’s frown deepened.
“I’m an adult, John. Haven’t been ‘Little Georgie’ in years.”
“Really? You’re sure he didn’t write this song?” John snickered.
George bristled, placing his guitar down with a thud.
“I’m a grown man!” He whined scoffed. “I dunno why you keep tryin’ to fuck with me head like this!”
“Ahht!” John suddenly snaps, a finger pointed directly to George’s mouth. “Children don’t swear!”
George blinked rapidly, trying to process those words. It only resulted in more anger.
“Ye don’t get to tell me what to say, ye cunt!” He spat, fueled by his embarrassment.
“C’mon, fellas. Enough of that!” Ringo called from behind his drumset, taking pity on the poor lad.
John and Paul muttered amongst themselves for a moment, but quickly returned to their Lennon-McCartney routine.
George only turned away, scowling through the rest of the rehearsal.
After finally returning to his room in their shared flat, he felt tears well in his eyes as the shame finally hit him.
He wished they would forget about ‘Little Georgie’ entirely.
He never should’ve let them see him like that. He should’ve known they’d tease him.