I know it's been a long while since I updated, but I'm really starting to lose faith in my story when I compared it to the others on this site. I mean, I'm glad I could sort of pave the way for all these other fantastic Beatle fanfictions, but now I'm sort of falling into the shadows of much more talented writers and there's just no inspiration. But still I managed to pull together a nice little George-centered chapter that I hope you guys like.

I'm Happy Just To Dance With You (I Don't Want To Kiss Or Hold Your Hand)

July 25, 1964
Birmingham

After the show ended and the Beatles (and, of course, Brian and Caroline) had headed back to the hotel, the ever-mischievous boys had taken it upon themselves to sneak back out. They used Caroline as a secret weapon, making her tell Brian they were all going to bed ("Oh, we're all dog-tired, really Brian, we're all going straight to sleep), for Brian would believe innocent, sweet Caroline in a second.

The Beatles and their plus one had stolen into the streets, carefully navigating their way to a new club, making sure that no one spotted them. Now, they sat in a circular booth in a semi-private corner of the club, drinking their bitter and joking with one another as they watched girls flutter by. (George had decided that it was high time they stopped chasing girls and allowed the girls to come to them.) The club was cozy, dimly lit, with cherry-wood furniture, burgundy cushions on the booths, and rich amber beer.

Caroline, of course, was not so satisfied with "bird-watching" and chatting aimlessly. Her toes tapped restlessly as she drank her beer, watching enviously as others danced to the rock n' roll. Finally, with her legs craving a good beat, she shot up without another word, grabbing the hand of a handsome young man who had walked by and dragging him onto the dance floor before the poor lad realized what was going on. Not that he seemed to mind, once he saw that a pretty young thing had pulled him away for a dance.

John observed her with amusement and perhaps another little hint of jealousy. He watched as Caroline began to dance with the young man who looked fairly ecstatic to be with such an enthralling girl. Unfortunately for him, he just wasn't able to keep up, because Caroline quickly grew tired of him and moved on. John contented himself with watching her over the rim of his beer as she went through boy after boy, growing bored with one to switch to another.

John wasn't the only one watching; Paul's eyes were also glued to Caroline, until finally (after she had gone through most of the unsuspecting boys on the floor, much to the displeasure of their girls and dates) he stood to his feet, hoping not to garner any questions from the others, and made a move for the dance floor.

"Where do you think you're going, then?"

Paul froze in place, squeezing his eyes shut and furling his fingers, knowing that'd he'd been caught. He turned on his heel slowly to see John leaning back coolly at the booth, staring at Paul complacently. He batted his eyelashes innocently, but Paul knew that look. It was that 'I know exactly where you're going, James Paul McCartney, I just want to hear you say it.' Paul pursed his lips. "I was going to ask Caroline to dance," he admitted sheepishly.

John's voice was calm and smooth as honey, but his hazel eyes betrayed him; they were ablaze with smoldering anger. "Sure that's a good idea, son?" The question was simple enough, but beneath the honey in John's voice was quiet venom, a terseness that made Paul feel as though he were being warned.

The bassist bristled indignantly, raising his chin in the air with slight defiance. "I think it's a very famous idea, rather," he shot back. George and Ringo exchanged knowing glances that said, "Oh brother, not this again." They were used to seeing Paul and John contend for the same bird. "Besides," Paul continued testily, "You haven't got much room to say whom she dances with, seein' as you aren't even dancing with her."

"Yeah, but I'm the reason she's even here for you to think about dancin' with." John's eyes were slowly but surely getting darker and cloudier with rage.

"Yeah, well, I'm the reason you ever talked to her in the first damn place," Paul snapped.

John's eyes flashed and narrowed threateningly. "She's mine," he finally growled from behind gritted teeth.

The two singers looked like rival wolves about to battle over the carcass of a fallen deer, circling and sniffing each other, waiting for the other to make their move. Their eyes glowed in a moment of tense silence.

"Hey, lads!" a breathless voice greeted from behind Paul, breaking his staring contest with John. "Alright?"

"Speak of the devil," Ringo whispered to George. George just watched the exchange, his dark eyes following the three with interest. Caroline's cheeks were flushed from the vigor of her dancing, her red hair tousled sultrily from spinning and twirling. After a moment, he whispered back,

"Wanna see me piss those two off?"

Ringo baby blue eyes lit up. "Do it," he dared.

"Caroline," George said loudly, standing up before John or Paul--still caught off-guard by Caroline's sudden appearance--could get a word in edgewise. "Would you like to dance?" he drawled in his endearingly thick accent as he led her away from the table, and most importantly, the two wolves about to tear each other apart for her.

"Ta," she laughed, looking pleasantly surprised and perfectly oblivious.

George could feel the glares on his back, so he turned to give the pair a toothy smirk and a wink. He didn't like Caroline quite the way John and Paul did--sure, she was pretty and quite fun, but more in a friendly way--but that didn't make him any less proud of stealing her away from the singing duo, who usually got all the attention and ALL the birds.

"You seemed pretty hasty to pull me away, George," Caroline mused with a wry smile once they found an open spot on the dance floor. She arched one long, flaming eyebrow at him expectantly, implying that she wanted an explanation.

"Well, you were 'bout to walk right into John and Paul's vicious barney, you see," George told her, placing his long, calloused hands on her slight waist and beginning to sway back and forth. Caroline placed her arms around his neck. Elvis' husky drawl and sweet guitar filled the air, working as a melodic metronome that set the tempo for the pairs of hips that rocked slowly throughout the club. "I had to pull you away. S'bad manners, you know, to fight in front of a lady such as yourself."

Caroline chuckled lightly, grinning up at the dark-eyed guitarist. "I'm not much of a lady," she admitted good-naturedly, a mischievous smile playing across her lips. The pair moved fluidly about the dance floor, weaving slowly between the various couples around them. "But I appreciate your manners, George."

"Well, I've had lessons," George replied in an airy, nonchalant voice, grinning a charming grin. Caroline grinned back, and then rested her forehead against his collarbone as they moved back and forth slowly. Looking over her head, George could see Paul and John still seething at him. After a moment of swaying to the ballad, George blurted out, "They were fighting about you, you know."

Caroline looked up at this statement, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought everyone was alright with me traveling with you guys to Blackpool...?" Her sea-foam colored eyes were large with worry, as though she had committed some sort of terrible crime. "I mean, I already said, if you guys need me to leave, I don't want them to be fighting--"

"No, no, there's been a misunderstanding," George interrupted quickly before she could finish her guilty bluster. "They're not fighting about you, they're fighting over you."

"Oh." It took Caroline a moment for the words to sink in and her mouth opened in realization. "Oh."

George nodded. "They were about to tear each other part to see who would dance with you."

Caroline glanced over his shoulder and saw that, indeed, John and Paul were taking turns glaring at each other, and then glaring at George. She giggled in George's ear, shaking her head. "Never thought I'd witness the day where I had two very famous men fighting over me."

"It's not so far fetched."

"I'm not exactly the type of girl to be on the arm of a rock star, you know?" Caroline shrugged casually. "Not the Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe type."

It was true, and George also preferred the Marilyn Monroe type, but Caroline was a special sort of girl and he felt compelled to tell her so. "You're a good type, Caroline, and it's better to have redhead who can dance than a blonde who can't spell." (This, to George at least, was a lie, but he wouldn't say a thing like that out loud.)

Caroline chuckled softly, putting her head back down on George's shoulder without another word. "Well, it's a good thing you're more into blondes who can't spell, or else I'd have you fighting over me too."

George grinned. It truly was no wonder why John and Paul liked this girl so much--she was much, much smarter than other girls, and he knew the two songwriter's thrived of others intelligence. "Well, I'm happy just to dance with you."

"Just to dance with me?" Caroline asked with a wry smile. "That's all you want?"

"That's everything I need," George replied honestly.

"Well then," Caroline smiled, "When this dance is through, maybe you'll like me, too."

I know it's short, but I felt bad for making the wait even longer. Please review!