Shine, the Weather's Fine

For George, filming the videos for “Paperback Writer” and “Rain” is surprisingly hassle free. No need for to rehearse, deal with screaming fans, or even do much of anything. The four of them stand around in a hothouse and pretend to play their instruments. Not much work at all. They wander, they lip sync, people film them.

During their lunch break, Paul sits down next to him. They don’t say much. George catches sight of a mousetrap next to his right foot. It’s a strange thing to find in a hothouse and he studies it for a few seconds before toeing it away from him, just to see if it will move. Paul watches with slight boredom and offers him a fag. George accepts without hesitation. He forgot his pack this morning and had been bumming them off everyone else this morning. Stupid fucking addiction. He really should be better at remembering the things that are necessary for his survival.

He takes a deep drag and blows it back out slowly. It’s a beautiful day, and George just watches the sunlight filter through the trees and onto Paul’s face.

“Thanks for the cig,” George says.

Paul merely shrugs and stares out into nothing.

They simply sit there and enjoy the calm until John decides that he’s bored of pestering Ringo and jumps between Paul and George, making kissy noises.

“Fuck off, Lennon,” Paul yells with a laugh.

“Aw, Paulie’s all upset because I interrupted his little break with George,” John says with a big grin on his face that’s just contagious, and George can’t help but break out laughing too.

“There isn’t any chance that you’ll fall into a giant abyss anytime soon, is there?” Paul retorts without any venom.

“Nope,” John’s shit eating grin is still there, but he leaves to find another victim.

George and Paul continue to laugh together long after John has gone.

FIN.