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Description

Title: Be-Bop A Lula
Chapter: 1
Author: musicNanimefreak aka BeatleLOVE aka maccamandy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Undefined (for now)
Warnings: swearing
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, or any of the songs or clubs mentioned in this fic. Hell, if I did, dya think I'd be writing about it? Hell no! I only own The Starbyrds and a few random strangers. You all are lucky that's it *evil smile*
October 1960
"Ey, she's pretty fit," John gestured through the thick haze of cigarette smoke to a tall, scantily clad blonde.
"Eh," Pete grumbled. "Prolly doesn' speak a lick o' proper English…fuckin' Germans."
"Fuckin' Germans? Well tha's precisely wha' I intend ta do." John shot the aggravated drummer a cheeky wink, elbowing an impish-looking boy next to him. "C'mon, Paulie, le's give 'er a pull. 'S not like we'll be findin' any 'proper English'-speakin' birds 'round 'ere. Carn't be picky, I say."
A thin twig of a lad leant against the wall, taking another long drag of his cigarette. "Ah, lay off it, John. We gotta ge' back on stage soon, anyways. 'Ye don even 'ave time fer a shag."
An evil smile crept across the older one's face, matching the devious glimmer in his eyes. "Well, lookie 'ere, The virgin's speakin' up now, isn' 'e? No time fer a shag, 'e says. Ain't ya ever 'eard o' a quickie, Georgie?" Smoke curled past his lips as he blew it in the boy's face, making him sputter in discontempt.
"Oh, lay off 'im, John." Paul blew the smoke straight back, earning himself a smirk. "'E's only seventeen. An' 'e's righ', ya know."
John rolled his eyes and turned his back on them. "Fine," he called over his shoulder. "I'll jus' go an' get 'er meself."
"It's not physically possible fer 'im ta 'ave a quickie," Paul muttered under his breath. "He always takes so damn long… I swear, if he's missin' when we gotta go back on, I'll cripple 'im. 'E shoulda gone lookin fer a bird ages ago." He took an irritated drag on his ciggie, his mind vaguely registering that Pete'd disappeared again. He was always leaving, but Paul really didn't give two shits. He figured they were better off without him.
The sound of voices and the clanking of instrument cases drifted down the slim hallway as four girls rounded the corner, chattering away so quickly, it took Paul a second or two to realise they were speaking English. As they loomed closer, their conversation became easier to understand. He quickly elbowed George and whispered, "Ey, take a look a' the talent."
The younger of the two quickly perked up at the sight of them. "Wonder who's cases they're carryin'?"
"Dunno," Paul shrugged, a devious smirk tugging at his full lips. "Wan' find out?"
"Of course." The two eyed the girls carefully. "John's missin' out."
"More fer ourselves." He saw Paul wink at one, pretty with long brown hair and a guitar in hand. Figures he'd pick the tallest of the bunch.
"Ey, dya know who's on 'fore us?" she asked the girl next to her, a brunette with bright green eyes and a bob.
"Isn't it Rory's band?" she replied, getting a tighter grip on her guitar. "Ya know, the guy with tha' stutter?"
"Nah, they're after us, I think."
"Aren't they called the Tornadoes or somethin'?" another asked, one George couldn't help but notice reminded him of Rory's drummer.
"The Hurricanes," Paul swiftly elbowed himself into the conversation. "Rory Storm an' the Hurricanes. "
Four pairs of eyes locked on him, looking him over just as he'd done to them. "An' who're you?" the one he winked at asked. "You two look awful young ta be in 'Amburg."
Paul's already girlishly high eyebrows shot up even further, giving him the look of a paranoid deer-in-headlights on speed. "Paul," he replied after a short pause. "Paul McCartney. An' 'm plently old 'nough, ta."
George gave them a short half-wave, fully aware that he was indeed too young to legally be performing in clubs and whatnot. But, hey, who gave a damn besides those fuckin' cops? "George Harrison," he mumbled sheepishly.
A petite blonde, the only one that he hadn't heard speak yet, giggled quietly. "What'd 'e say? Did 'e say 'is name was Joj?"
"Ge-or-ge." He carefully sounded out each syllable as if he were speaking to a second year, suddenly self-conscious of his heavy accent.
"Oh, so yer name's George," the tall one said. "Tha's prolly one o' the thickes' Scouse accents I eva' seen." She paused, looking at them less scrutinizingly and more curiously than before. "You two look awful familiar, ya know. Aren't ya in that insect-band or whateva'?"
Paul nearly chocked on the remnants of his ciggie. "The Beatles," he corrected, coughing up ash.
"Oh, whateva', I was close," she shrugged indifferently. "The Beatles…" she let the vaguely familiar name roll off her tongue a few times. "Ey, yer the band ahead of us!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess…" Paul absentmindedly scratched the back of his head, hoping for a change in conversation and quickly glanced around for John; he'd be good with birds like these.
"Isn' 'e yer's?" Green-eyes asked, pointing straight at the person he'd hoped to find. John had, surprisingly, gotten the bird to stay and was now making crude hand gestures to explain what he intended to do to the poor girl.
"Sadly," he sighed, exasperated. "So you gurls have names, I'd suppose?"
"Yea', we do," the cheeky one grinned. "'M Maddy an' this 'ere's Kat," she gestured to the green-eyed girl, "Leah," the quiet blonde, "and Sadie," the one with large blue eyes. The two lads nodded to each as they said a quick hello. "We're called The Starbyrds."
"With a 'y,'" Kat smiled. "Looks betta', I'd say."
"Yeah, I'd reckon," George grinned back, finally starting to grow comfortable talking.
"So where's you four stayin'?" Paul asked, an impudent grin plastered on his boyish face.
Sadie leered smugly. "Above the Top Ten."
George's thick eyebrows (erm, well..eyebrow) shot up in question. "But don' ya gotta be an act ta get ta stay there? One o' the best in 'Amburg?"
"Wot, ye don believe us?" Kat rested her free hand hand on her hip, as if silently begging for him to argue.
George held his hands up innocently in front of him. "No, 'm jus' surprised, is all. I don think I've eva' 'eard of ye." Or any girl bands in Hamburg, really.
"Really?" Maddy looked at him incredulously. "We may be new, but we're quite popular 'ere…" Her train of thought was quickly intterupted by a frustrated and newly rejected John, who spotted the four girls chatting up his mates.
"Wot's this?" he stalked over, pissed that they'd found birds without him.
The girls turned to face him, eyeing him curiously. Maddy looked at him with distain more than anything, and she asked, "Wot's it ta you?"
John looked to George and Paul, eyebrow cocked. "Well, this one's got quite a mouth on 'er, doesn' she? Feisty." He sized up each of them, his signature impertinently bold sneer gracing his features. "Tell me," he purred at the four. "Wot's all yer names?"
"None o' yer business," Kat snapped, sending hm an icy glare. "'S not like you'll remember 'em anyways."
"Oi, do all o' ye have such a snappy tongue?" He clicked his own disapprovingly. "'S not nice ta be so cold ta someone tryin' ta be all hospitible-like. Rude, ya know."
"Oh, bugger off, John," Paul placed a hand on his shoulder. "Quit botherin' 'em. They'd play nice if ye weren't such a biggot a' times, ya arse."
Sadie smirked at the bassist's words. "Yeah, really. All ya gotta do is be a gentleman."
Leah, looking up at them innocently, spoke up. "'S not like we bite or anythin'. We really don'."
"Not tha' 'ard, anyways." A wicked gleam caught in Maddy's eyes as she and Sadie exchanged smiles of the devilish kind.
"Oh, shaddup 'bout tha'," Kat tiredly rolled her eyes. "Yer a buncha 'orny li'l teenagers, tha's wot ye are."
"'Ey!" Sadie testified. "We're older than you!"
"Yeah! Tha's not fair ta say, Katty!" Maddie gave her her best pout and puppy eyes. "Yer jus' a kid."
"Me? A kid?" scoffed Kat. "'M more mature than either o' ya combined!"
All three boys watched curiously, apparently forgotten in the girl's tame barney. It was funny, really. They kinda reminded them of themselves in ways, especially that evil look those two had shared. George had seen that look on John and Paul's faces plenty of times, usually before tormenting some poor bird or one of their mates. He'd learned to stay away from them when they got like that the hard way.
"Ey, lads!"
All pairs of eyes focused on the scrawny figure approaching them when John's face broke out into a huge grin. "Ey, Stu! C'mere an' meet the talent."
"What'd ya catch this time, Lennon?" He smiled broadly at his best mate, choosing not to notice the eye roll Paul gave him.
"I think they're a fine catch, if I do say so meself." John waggled his eyebrows in the girls' direction, pointedly being ignored by the small group.
Sadie let out a low whistle when they could see past the boys enough to catch a glance at this new personality. "Damn," Kat agreed, nodding slowly. He might've been the smallest of the guys, but damn he looked good. Leah's cheeks flushed slightly and Maddy eyed him appreciatively. Rolling his eyes, Paul cleared his throat loud enough for just the girls to hear.
"'E's taken, ya know."
"Aw, but tha's no fun…" Sadie pouted dejectedly.
"I don care," Maddy purred quietly. "He's damn peng…"
"Oh, shut it. Yer gonna drool all ova' the floor if ya don' shut yer traps soon."
Kat raised a brow, poking his arm accusingly. "Oh, don' go gettin' all jealous an' crap."
He scoffed, insulted. "'M not jealous!"
George snorted quietly. "Yea ye are, Paulie. Admit it."
"Ah, sod off. Go bugger someone else if yer gonna be like tha'." His arms crossed over his chest like a child's, pouting slightly.
"Aw, is Princess Paulie getting' sour again?" John noted, sparing them a glance as he just realised they were having a conversation without him.
"You'd shut yer mouth if ya knew wha' was good fer ya, Lennon," he snapped irritably.
"When has John ever known wha' was good for 'im?" Stu laughed, causing four very distracted girls to mentally melt into little puddles of adoration goo.
The bassist nodded slightly in reluctant agreement. Goddamn Sutcliffe… He irritably ran a hand through his greasy hair and cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "We goin' on stage now?"
Stu glanced at him quickly and nodded. "Yea, tha's why I came ta getcha. Pete's already backstage."
"Well, le's go then! No use jus' standin' ere, waitin' fer the grass ta grow!" John threw his arm around Stu's slim shoulders and they started for the door, John casting the girls a wink before disappearing inside. "Watch me, okay?"
Paul rolled his eyes yet again and gave them a small wave. "We'll see ya afta', 'kay?" When you gals are done."
They nodded in reply, wishing them luck as they watched the two follow their lead singer backstage.
"'Ey, George?" Paul nudged his arm in the dim lighting.
"Yea, mate?"
"Ya got any more Prellies? 'S gonna be a long night by the looks o' it."
...
A/N: Read and review, my loves! PLEASE~ You just might get ta rape Stu ;D

Description

Title: Be-Bop A Lula
Chapter: 1
Author: musicNanimefreak aka BeatleLOVE aka maccamandy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Undefined (for now)
Warnings: swearing
Disclaimer: I don't own The Beatles, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, or any of the songs or clubs mentioned in this fic. Hell, if I did, dya think I'd be writing about it? Hell no! I only own The Starbyrds and a few random strangers. You all are lucky that's it *evil smile*
October 1960
"Ey, she's pretty fit," John gestured through the thick haze of cigarette smoke to a tall, scantily clad blonde.
"Eh," Pete grumbled. "Prolly doesn' speak a lick o' proper English…fuckin' Germans."
"Fuckin' Germans? Well tha's precisely wha' I intend ta do." John shot the aggravated drummer a cheeky wink, elbowing an impish-looking boy next to him. "C'mon, Paulie, le's give 'er a pull. 'S not like we'll be findin' any 'proper English'-speakin' birds 'round 'ere. Carn't be picky, I say."
A thin twig of a lad leant against the wall, taking another long drag of his cigarette. "Ah, lay off it, John. We gotta ge' back on stage soon, anyways. 'Ye don even 'ave time fer a shag."
An evil smile crept across the older one's face, matching the devious glimmer in his eyes. "Well, lookie 'ere, The virgin's speakin' up now, isn' 'e? No time fer a shag, 'e says. Ain't ya ever 'eard o' a quickie, Georgie?" Smoke curled past his lips as he blew it in the boy's face, making him sputter in discontempt.
"Oh, lay off 'im, John." Paul blew the smoke straight back, earning himself a smirk. "'E's only seventeen. An' 'e's righ', ya know."
John rolled his eyes and turned his back on them. "Fine," he called over his shoulder. "I'll jus' go an' get 'er meself."
"It's not physically possible fer 'im ta 'ave a quickie," Paul muttered under his breath. "He always takes so damn long… I swear, if he's missin' when we gotta go back on, I'll cripple 'im. 'E shoulda gone lookin fer a bird ages ago." He took an irritated drag on his ciggie, his mind vaguely registering that Pete'd disappeared again. He was always leaving, but Paul really didn't give two shits. He figured they were better off without him.
The sound of voices and the clanking of instrument cases drifted down the slim hallway as four girls rounded the corner, chattering away so quickly, it took Paul a second or two to realise they were speaking English. As they loomed closer, their conversation became easier to understand. He quickly elbowed George and whispered, "Ey, take a look a' the talent."
The younger of the two quickly perked up at the sight of them. "Wonder who's cases they're carryin'?"
"Dunno," Paul shrugged, a devious smirk tugging at his full lips. "Wan' find out?"
"Of course." The two eyed the girls carefully. "John's missin' out."
"More fer ourselves." He saw Paul wink at one, pretty with long brown hair and a guitar in hand. Figures he'd pick the tallest of the bunch.
"Ey, dya know who's on 'fore us?" she asked the girl next to her, a brunette with bright green eyes and a bob.
"Isn't it Rory's band?" she replied, getting a tighter grip on her guitar. "Ya know, the guy with tha' stutter?"
"Nah, they're after us, I think."
"Aren't they called the Tornadoes or somethin'?" another asked, one George couldn't help but notice reminded him of Rory's drummer.
"The Hurricanes," Paul swiftly elbowed himself into the conversation. "Rory Storm an' the Hurricanes. "
Four pairs of eyes locked on him, looking him over just as he'd done to them. "An' who're you?" the one he winked at asked. "You two look awful young ta be in 'Amburg."
Paul's already girlishly high eyebrows shot up even further, giving him the look of a paranoid deer-in-headlights on speed. "Paul," he replied after a short pause. "Paul McCartney. An' 'm plently old 'nough, ta."
George gave them a short half-wave, fully aware that he was indeed too young to legally be performing in clubs and whatnot. But, hey, who gave a damn besides those fuckin' cops? "George Harrison," he mumbled sheepishly.
A petite blonde, the only one that he hadn't heard speak yet, giggled quietly. "What'd 'e say? Did 'e say 'is name was Joj?"
"Ge-or-ge." He carefully sounded out each syllable as if he were speaking to a second year, suddenly self-conscious of his heavy accent.
"Oh, so yer name's George," the tall one said. "Tha's prolly one o' the thickes' Scouse accents I eva' seen." She paused, looking at them less scrutinizingly and more curiously than before. "You two look awful familiar, ya know. Aren't ya in that insect-band or whateva'?"
Paul nearly chocked on the remnants of his ciggie. "The Beatles," he corrected, coughing up ash.
"Oh, whateva', I was close," she shrugged indifferently. "The Beatles…" she let the vaguely familiar name roll off her tongue a few times. "Ey, yer the band ahead of us!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess…" Paul absentmindedly scratched the back of his head, hoping for a change in conversation and quickly glanced around for John; he'd be good with birds like these.
"Isn' 'e yer's?" Green-eyes asked, pointing straight at the person he'd hoped to find. John had, surprisingly, gotten the bird to stay and was now making crude hand gestures to explain what he intended to do to the poor girl.
"Sadly," he sighed, exasperated. "So you gurls have names, I'd suppose?"
"Yea', we do," the cheeky one grinned. "'M Maddy an' this 'ere's Kat," she gestured to the green-eyed girl, "Leah," the quiet blonde, "and Sadie," the one with large blue eyes. The two lads nodded to each as they said a quick hello. "We're called The Starbyrds."
"With a 'y,'" Kat smiled. "Looks betta', I'd say."
"Yeah, I'd reckon," George grinned back, finally starting to grow comfortable talking.
"So where's you four stayin'?" Paul asked, an impudent grin plastered on his boyish face.
Sadie leered smugly. "Above the Top Ten."
George's thick eyebrows (erm, well..eyebrow) shot up in question. "But don' ya gotta be an act ta get ta stay there? One o' the best in 'Amburg?"
"Wot, ye don believe us?" Kat rested her free hand hand on her hip, as if silently begging for him to argue.
George held his hands up innocently in front of him. "No, 'm jus' surprised, is all. I don think I've eva' 'eard of ye." Or any girl bands in Hamburg, really.
"Really?" Maddy looked at him incredulously. "We may be new, but we're quite popular 'ere…" Her train of thought was quickly intterupted by a frustrated and newly rejected John, who spotted the four girls chatting up his mates.
"Wot's this?" he stalked over, pissed that they'd found birds without him.
The girls turned to face him, eyeing him curiously. Maddy looked at him with distain more than anything, and she asked, "Wot's it ta you?"
John looked to George and Paul, eyebrow cocked. "Well, this one's got quite a mouth on 'er, doesn' she? Feisty." He sized up each of them, his signature impertinently bold sneer gracing his features. "Tell me," he purred at the four. "Wot's all yer names?"
"None o' yer business," Kat snapped, sending hm an icy glare. "'S not like you'll remember 'em anyways."
"Oi, do all o' ye have such a snappy tongue?" He clicked his own disapprovingly. "'S not nice ta be so cold ta someone tryin' ta be all hospitible-like. Rude, ya know."
"Oh, bugger off, John," Paul placed a hand on his shoulder. "Quit botherin' 'em. They'd play nice if ye weren't such a biggot a' times, ya arse."
Sadie smirked at the bassist's words. "Yeah, really. All ya gotta do is be a gentleman."
Leah, looking up at them innocently, spoke up. "'S not like we bite or anythin'. We really don'."
"Not tha' 'ard, anyways." A wicked gleam caught in Maddy's eyes as she and Sadie exchanged smiles of the devilish kind.
"Oh, shaddup 'bout tha'," Kat tiredly rolled her eyes. "Yer a buncha 'orny li'l teenagers, tha's wot ye are."
"'Ey!" Sadie testified. "We're older than you!"
"Yeah! Tha's not fair ta say, Katty!" Maddie gave her her best pout and puppy eyes. "Yer jus' a kid."
"Me? A kid?" scoffed Kat. "'M more mature than either o' ya combined!"
All three boys watched curiously, apparently forgotten in the girl's tame barney. It was funny, really. They kinda reminded them of themselves in ways, especially that evil look those two had shared. George had seen that look on John and Paul's faces plenty of times, usually before tormenting some poor bird or one of their mates. He'd learned to stay away from them when they got like that the hard way.
"Ey, lads!"
All pairs of eyes focused on the scrawny figure approaching them when John's face broke out into a huge grin. "Ey, Stu! C'mere an' meet the talent."
"What'd ya catch this time, Lennon?" He smiled broadly at his best mate, choosing not to notice the eye roll Paul gave him.
"I think they're a fine catch, if I do say so meself." John waggled his eyebrows in the girls' direction, pointedly being ignored by the small group.
Sadie let out a low whistle when they could see past the boys enough to catch a glance at this new personality. "Damn," Kat agreed, nodding slowly. He might've been the smallest of the guys, but damn he looked good. Leah's cheeks flushed slightly and Maddy eyed him appreciatively. Rolling his eyes, Paul cleared his throat loud enough for just the girls to hear.
"'E's taken, ya know."
"Aw, but tha's no fun…" Sadie pouted dejectedly.
"I don care," Maddy purred quietly. "He's damn peng…"
"Oh, shut it. Yer gonna drool all ova' the floor if ya don' shut yer traps soon."
Kat raised a brow, poking his arm accusingly. "Oh, don' go gettin' all jealous an' crap."
He scoffed, insulted. "'M not jealous!"
George snorted quietly. "Yea ye are, Paulie. Admit it."
"Ah, sod off. Go bugger someone else if yer gonna be like tha'." His arms crossed over his chest like a child's, pouting slightly.
"Aw, is Princess Paulie getting' sour again?" John noted, sparing them a glance as he just realised they were having a conversation without him.
"You'd shut yer mouth if ya knew wha' was good fer ya, Lennon," he snapped irritably.
"When has John ever known wha' was good for 'im?" Stu laughed, causing four very distracted girls to mentally melt into little puddles of adoration goo.
The bassist nodded slightly in reluctant agreement. Goddamn Sutcliffe… He irritably ran a hand through his greasy hair and cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "We goin' on stage now?"
Stu glanced at him quickly and nodded. "Yea, tha's why I came ta getcha. Pete's already backstage."
"Well, le's go then! No use jus' standin' ere, waitin' fer the grass ta grow!" John threw his arm around Stu's slim shoulders and they started for the door, John casting the girls a wink before disappearing inside. "Watch me, okay?"
Paul rolled his eyes yet again and gave them a small wave. "We'll see ya afta', 'kay?" When you gals are done."
They nodded in reply, wishing them luck as they watched the two follow their lead singer backstage.
"'Ey, George?" Paul nudged his arm in the dim lighting.
"Yea, mate?"
"Ya got any more Prellies? 'S gonna be a long night by the looks o' it."
...
A/N: Read and review, my loves! PLEASE~ You just might get ta rape Stu ;D