@aewhite624 did all my little Paul lovers a favor and sent in a Paul request, so here's to all my Paul girls <3 I do put a description to the reader so SORRY for that oof lol.

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To simply say that I'd heard a lot about Paul McCartney would be a horribly deflated, unsatisfactory way of explaining it- a drastic de-dramatization. In all truth, I'd heard nothing BUT of Paul McCartney. Coming from my brother, of all people, I swore for the longest time that he was gay for how often he so fondly spoken of boy.

But, before I get to into it, I guess I really should explain just exactly how I came to know I had a brother at all.

My entire life I was sure I was completely and utterly alone. My mother loved me, and my father was supportive, and my friends were... there, I guess. Never did I have what I yearned for most, though: A connection. I wished for a strong, unbreakable bond - it was what I wished for more than anything. So, when my "parents" sat me down one day when I was twelve and told me I was adopted, I realized for once that I prayed so hard for it because, all along, very deep down, I knew the truth from the second that I could register my hair was brown and my eyes were a soft green, and my mother and father were both brown-eyed red heads. Which was a young age. I could remember the exact moment when I looked in the mirror one day, while doing my hair, and noticed my hair looked rather good that day - just to have my mom join me, brushing her teeth. It grabbed my attention that her hair was almost like fire under the lights, beautiful. I could imagine the times from her teenage years, in the stories she told me, when she used to run with the boys, get muddy, sass back at her parents, and wear pants. I could picture her hair wild and crazy, bouncing around her, her freckled cheeks slashed with mud, her gorgeous brown eyes alight with mischief. So, sitting there in that room at twelve, looking at my parents, so similar to each other, with their other kids so similar to them, and then reflecting on my own looks, so strikingly different, I simply stood and left the room when they told me.

I wasn't shocked. I was simply offended it took them so long to tell me, and so long for me to put the pieces together completely.

Not long after, when I was about fourteen, I went on a desperate search to find my birth mother. The trail lead me to John Lennon, band member in the Beetles. Talk about living in someone's shadow when my dream was also to be a musician.

He explained to me of how our mother had died, and how she was the only parent we had in common as far as he knew. As she was also the only fact we knew about each other, we sat down for a very long time and talked into the very late hours of the next day. We survived off of sugar and caffeine to keep us going for hours. It was amazing. When I told him that I myself had an interest in singing, the conversation exploded, and we suddenly had an endless amount of things to talk about. I left out the fact that I couldn't play guitar. I wanted to feel equal to him, and telling your ridiculously talented brother that you couldn't do something as simple as play the guitar bothered me too much to go through with it. After that first day, he convinced me to move in with him. He had a place of his own and the house was very lonely - not like he was offering it because I had nowhere else to go and he didn't want me to leave or anything....

For a week he let me adjust before taking any further action towards fitting me into his life. Slowly we made a pattern where I would cook and clean while he was gone, then the two of us would eat dinner, or lunch, depending on when he would return, and after we would jam. He would play and the both of us would duet. I used the excuse that I'd been working all day and that because of this my hands were too sore to properly play. He would complain that I was working too hard and then I would work just as hard the next day anyway. A week of this passed, and John thought it was time for me to meet his band, and I agreed. I had not heard much about the Beetles except the surrounding towns and what my researching to get here had revealed to me time and time again. They weren't overwhelmingly famous, but they were growing fast in popularity and status. Apparently every girl within a sixty kilometer radius of the boys when they played swooned and cried because they were lucky enough to be so close to such talent.

I had yet to be so affected, although the only person I'd ever seen play was John, and we were brother and sister so of course I didn't find him attractive in any silly way like that. He was even beginning to feel like my brother, which was a thought that kept me much more busy than how attractive he was, even in a platonic passively noticing way. I mean I'd seen siblings compliment each other, but John and I spent most of our time groaning and rolling our eyes and saying how ugly and lame the other was. I loved my brother, but I had begun to believe that he was as much a rotted fruit as I'd been teasing him to be. My insults shocked other people, but I was getting their attraction to him less and less. Maybe it was a sibling thing. Maybe it was just me, or us. Whatever it was, it meant that I didn't get the mania around The Beatles that had every woman losing their entire minds.

That all changed when I met him though.

This is where we left off. This past week all I'd heard about was how amazing Paul was. He could do this, and that, and that, and this. He was talented. Handsome. Funny. Nice. Supportive. John's best friend, closest companion. "Companion in life maybe," I teased one day. I got to meet John's girlfriend shortly after that. I tried to hold back the thought that I was meeting her only because John wanted to prove that he was happily taken completely and totally not gay.

After that, I did meet Paul, though (at a party John dragged my anti-social self to). And once I did, all of John's up talking and blabbering and freaking out not only proved valid, but made sense. He wasn't just talking him up because he thought highly of him... he was ALSO talking him up because he was trying to set us up. That became very obvious very quickly.

"Paul, meet my sister. This is Paul." We shook and his smile was charming. Endearing. I found it contagious and returned it, just as wide and genuine. It was when I looked away from Paul shyly and looked to John that I saw my older brother's mischievous grin. Noticed he way he looked between me and his best friend. His girlfriend nudged him and I dropped Paul's hand, looking away and frowning. I wondered, just for a second, if John was more excited to have someone to tie Paul into his family or to have a sister. "She sings," John added. I shot him a betrayed look but Paul immediately caught my attention again before I could react vocally.

"Really?" I look back at Paul to see his face light up in an excited grin. I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck self consciously.

John smirked. "Yeah. She's my sister, what did you expect?"

I scoffed. "I'm not that good."

"Not that good?" John scoffed indignantly. "You're being humble! Your voice is angelic!"

A harsh laugh busted out of me sarcastically, short but loud. "You're bias!" I accused. With ll the joking insults passed between us of recent, this was a rather odd exchange. I'd never been complimented much in my life in general so I wasn't use to it ever, but from John? About something he was known for? Considered to be spectacular at? It felt more like a compliment; it was high praise, and it made my insides warm. It excited me. My brother was bragging about me.

"Let's test the theory then." My attention had turned back to my brother to stay in a safe place: sibling banter. But like a magnet my eyes found Pauls yet again when he spoke. He was handsome and it had been a long time since I had last really found someone interesting. I mean, finding my real family had taken up all of my life since I was fourteen. Paul seemed to be able to silence a room with his voice though. It was like my brain tuned everything else out so that I could hear his voice better and I couldn't help but look and listen whenever he spoke.

My eyes landed on the guitar in Paul's hand and the grin on his face as he offered it to me and I froze. "I- I really don't think-"

Paul gave me the most adorable puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. "Oh come on. You have nothing to be scared of, we'll be nice. I promise."

"Even me!" John interjected. "I still have yet to hear you play."

It wasn't that I hadn't know that at some point I would have to admit that I didn't know how to play. It was that I had been dreading it and hoped I could push it off as long as possible. It was that not only was I about to take a hit to my pride to admit that I was so far behind John in talent with singing and success, but also in just general talent. He was better at flirting than me, more charismatic and funnier than me. I'd reserved myself to being single forever; I was too awkward and had too few things in common with other people. I struggled to connect with others. It was that he knew all those other things and his reaction had been to set me up because he knew I wouldn't be able to do it myself- with his best friend none the less. But this. What would he do with this? What would people think when they realized I wasn't as good as John Lenon? Would I simply become... 'John Lenon's little sister'? Did any of those worries and thoughts make sense or was I just freaking myself out nonsensically because I hated that I was so close to someone that was living the dream I had but was too far away from to actually ever achieve? Oh god was I jealous of John Lennon?

I took the guitar and John and Paul lead me to the living room where I sat on the couch. John quickly stole the only other single seat in the room, motioning his girl to sit on his lap. Paul was forced to sit next to me. I avoided his eyes, settling the guitar and looking down at it as I tried to hide my panic. Paul leaned over. "You- You're holding it wrong." I looked up, startled by his sudden close proximity and he saw my hidden freak out. His eyes flickered to John and then back to me, a strong sense of understanding settling on his face. His hands reached over, righting the guitar in my grip. He leaned close, talking so only I could hear. I looked over at John but my brother was occupied by his girlfriend, perhaps purposefully ignoring us to encourage Paul. Sigh. "I'm going to teach you a very, very simple pattern made of three notes. You a fast learner?" I nodded. "I sure hope so." He leaned back. "I've been challenged," Paul declared, causing John to look over. I didn't know where he was going with this but I didn't say anything about it to ruin whatever plan he had, since he was trying to help me. "Your little sister here doesn't think I have any talent."

Your sister.

Oh god it's already starting.

"She has a name," John reminded with a weird look on his face.

Paul chuckled sheepishly. "Right, forgive me. You will have to forgive me though, you never told me what it was."

A smile light up my face. So did blush. I felt silly, but also excited. Maybe it wouldn't happen; perhaps John wouldn't let it. "Y/n," I told him. He smiled, nodding, offering his hands to take the guitar. I handed it over.

Paul's grin enlarged. "Well, Y/N has accused me of having no talent compared to her brother." Plot twist: John would become known as 'Y/n's brother'. Who'd have thought? "So now before she can play I have to prove my worth." He shot me a look and I sagged in relief. "You have to sing with me though," he purred. I barely held back a shiver at the way the smirk he wore made me feel.

The rest of the day we did just that. He played and we sang together. It was awkward at first but then Paul would nudge me or make a weird face while singing and I'd laugh or blush and it got easier the more we did it. At some point a small crowd out of the party gathered. At some point John disappeared into the crowd. At some point the girls in the crowd started to glare at me like I had slapped them and stole all of their happiness and the boys looked at Paul as if sizing him up. There were plenty of girls ogling at Paul and at some point I even caught boys looks at me. Paul followed my line of sight when I'd grow stiff or awkward again and he would scoot closer or look at me and hold my gaze or sing some sappy love song or make me laugh again and the staring would stop. For a while. He had my back every time, scaring away the unwelcome attention and making me feel comfortable at every turn. By the end of the night, I definitely had a new friend. A really talented, caring, aware, really hot friend. Oh heaven. I saw the way girls much prettier than me looked at him, though. I had heard the stories of fans and romance from John- Paul had his pick of any girl. He wouldn't pick his best friend's awkward younger sister. I was thankful for his help tonight, though. Playing things off for my brother. Scaring off those boys in the only way boys can be scared off... It was sweet of him.

As things began dying down and people began leaving, Paul and I put up our little gig. "So you can't play?" I blushed, nodding. "But you've told John you can?" Another ashamed nod. Paul sighed. "I would be disappointed, but I think stubbornness and pride run in your family." I grinned. This boy made me so quiet and shy holy heaven. He smiled to himself, looking at me for a second. "What if I taught you?"

My eyebrows shot up. "To- to play?"

He laughed. "To lie better," he joked. I shoved him and he chuckled. "Yes to play. John is as subtle as you are. I've noticed his attempts to put us together, haven't you?" I blushed harder and his grin widened. "Well, just say you're coming over to hang out. We can do lessons a few times a week. He'll think we're secretly going out or at least getting acquainted and the way he's approaching this us thing, I think he'd like either option." Us. Was it hot in here or was it just me? "What do you think?"

"I would love that," I gushed. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to calm down. The question was: did I like the idea of him teaching me, or the idea of us ending up togerher more? Of course only one would happen, but a girl could dream. "This means so much, Paul, thank you."

He waved his hand through the air, dismissing my words. "Oh, no problem, Darling." I was sure I had died on the spot as I stopped feeling my heart beat in my chest. I REALLY hoped he wouldn't call me that often. I don't know how well I could control myself if he did...

We established Wednesdays and Fridays as our practice days since the band practiced Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. We arranged our times around work and school and everything was set. Paul walked me to John's car had been but I froze when I saw it was gone. "It's gone," I whispered.

Paul laughed and I looked at him like he was insane. "Another tactic," Paul dismissed. "Now I have to take you home." He wiggled his eyebrows and I blushed, warm even in the cold of the night. "Have you had dinner?"

My eyebrow rose. "Already trying to get me on a date, McCartney?" My stomach twisted violently as I realized I was flirting with Paul and I swallowed my nervousness.

A more flirty look adorned Paul's features but I saw the joke behind it and brushed it off as more playful banter. "Now, Darling, if I was really trying to flirt with you..." He paused, sliding his jacket off. "Then I would note that you're shivering and that it's cold and somehow smoothly transition into giving you my jacket." He rested his jacket on my shoulders and my eyes widened as I realized at how incredibly smooth that was. "But I haven't done that, have I?"

Pulling his jacket closer around me, I smiled at my feet. "I suppose not." My heart was alive again, moving at the speed of light to make up for its abrupt stillness. Could it pick? I couldn't keep up with the chaos!

He took me home without further flirting or teasing or banter - thank goodness too because I was about to loose my mind. When he parked, he slid out of the car quickly and when I saw him speed walk toward my door, I resisted the urge to open it myself. He opened it on cue, offering my his hand to help me out. I smiled, taking it, and let him help me to my feet. He closed the passenger door but didn't drop my hand, not interlacing our fingers or holding my hand so much as holding up my hand and guiding me to the door as if he was holding a diamond on a satin pillow for rich auctioneers to see. When we got to my door, he pulled my hand to his lips and I blushed as he kissed my skin. "Thank you for playing with me." He gently lead my hand to a rest at my side. "It was wonderful to meet you."

I was speechless. "Likewise," I choked out. I started suddenly, pulling his jacket off my shoulders and offering it to him. "You can have this back now."

He paused, as if considering the offer. "Thank you, but you seem to need it more than me. You can give it to me next time I see you. Insurance you'll show up." He then moved to the hidden key, pulling it out and offering it to me. I was glad he did because I would have had to go around him and reach to grab it and we were already in a small space. I took it and unlocked my door, moving past him to begin going inside. I turned to him to take him in one more time before the night would end. "See you Wednesday?" He asked.

My blush had to be horrible by now, I could only hope he would blame it on the cold. "Most definitely," I confirmed. Was that too eager? Could he see how ridiculous I was? Oh god I bet he pitied me. He suddenly seemed a little distant. A little reserved. His smile was smaller. He stepped away slowly and I felt my heart plummet. "Goodnight." My throat was closed tight but ai managed the words.

"Goodnight," he wished before nodding and turning away, walking back to his car. I watched him get in his car, smile at me one last (lingering?) time, and then pull out and drive away. I moved backwards into the house, closing the door and turning around so I could press my back against the wood. I finally caught my breath properly, running a hand through my hair in my frazzled state. I was pathetic. Perhaps he'd been regretful for being so playful at the end. Maybe he'd felt uncomfortable, or regretted offering to teach me guitar since it would mean we'd be alone more often. He'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in that way, right? I mean, taking advantage of John's intentions for us to teach me guitar. But... perhaps he'd been flirting in return? The whole jacket bit... boys were so confusing! I couldn't tell what any of it meant. I mean he hadn't asked me on a date or made any... moves... surely he'd been joking when he'd kissed my hand. Already the memories were morphing to prove each and every doubt I had. He was handsome and talented and had endless options and I was the younger sister of his even more popular best friend. How could I compare to any one of the girls that would surely have caught his attention by now? Perhaps he'd just been entertaining me, aware of my affections for him. Used to getting such attention and being gracious about handling it as he didn't want to hurt me.

He had such a pretty smile, though. His lips were soft when they pressed to the back of my hand. And his jacket was so warm. I brought it to my nose, closing ya eyes and inhaling deeply. Jesus it smelled amazing... Maybe this whole thing wasn't so bad. I'd had unrequited crushes before. I could appreciate him even if he didn't return my feelings. After all, there really was so very much to appreciate.

"You two seemed to have fun." I jumped, lowering the jacket and trying to neutralize my expression- and failing. I could still feel my face burning. John was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and smirk wide.

I pushed my hair behind my ear nervously, trying to turn my emotions stern if they wouldn't be calm. Defensively, I snapped, "You left me."

John laughed, pushing off the wall and letting his arms fall to his sides. "Oh come on Y/n we both know I'm not subtle and you're not stupid. You know I did it on purpose."

I rolled my eyes, my shyness and awkwardness melting away in the safety of my home and in the routine with my brother. "If you think I'm going to fall for my brother's best friend just so he can be part of your family, you have another thing coming John Lenon."

Smirking even more widely, John smoothly stated, "Nice jacket, Y/n." That's when I remembered that I still had Paul's jacket in my hands. I scoffed breathlessly, not able to argue at an angle where he was so completely correct, and moved past him huffily to go to my room. That night I barely slept, Paul's jacket resting on the back of my chair where my eyes would fall on it every few minutes until sleep finally, mercifully, consumed me.

For the next long while, not only did Paul and I have our lessons but John began dragging me to rehearsals. They'd suddenly moved later in the day, after I got off of work, so that I was now able to attend them. I absolutely LOVED the quiet setting that allowed me to take in every glorious detail of them performing. But Paul kept looking at me and goofing off in some way (making faces, sticking his tongue out, winking, etc.) and getting snapped at by one of the other guys. John was too busy smirking as his plan came together. Between rehearsals and lessons, there were only two days a week I wasn't seeing Paul.

Very quickly things got good between us so that only two months after we met, lessons were... interesting. We managed to (barely) restrain ourselves during time with the guys, but in private he more often pulled me into his lap when he was teaching me or I was playing. Really any time he wasn't holding the guitar he was holding me.

Doubts meted and even my awkward stiffness eased. It became so natural to be intimate with him that our pretenses for the public began slipping, just with simple things. We would be eating lunch and I would steal something off his plate, winking at him as he playfully glared at me but allowed my crime. I'd go to check the mics because they sounded weird (I was becoming some sort of techie for the boys because I had so much free time on my hands just watching them that I began to pick up on things out of sheer boredom) and Paul placed his hand on my hip as I stood in front of him, pushing him behind me so that he wouldn't be in the way while I was trying to help the professionals on mics figure out what was wrong; neither of us seemed at all bothered by the action. Paul had plopped down on a couch with loud complaints after a gig and I had kissed him on the forehead, brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead with my fingers slipping just a but into his dark locks. Something amazing happened and Paul scooped me up, pulling me off my feet in an excited hug. Rumors spread and the glares increased as girls got more and more jealous of me (Paul swore that guys were glaring at him too but I refused to believe it). But we didn't change all that much. We got closer and more comfortable with each other, but we were just very touchy friends rather than boyfriend and girlfriend. I hadn't even kissed him yet.

Key word: yet.

That day at our lesson (I was getting really good at guitar and even though I was an average learner, neither slow or fast. Paul didn't seem to mind how it all dragged on) I was standing, propping the guitar on my knee as I played and sang. My eyes found him as I suddenly stopped, grinning mischievously. "What are you up to?" he asked, his smile growing as well.

Playing innocent, I shrugged. I had begun to be very different. The easiness with John had traveled to Paul, and we teased as much as John and I did- even though it was very different. I had begun... flirting. Really flirting. I was picking up things from all the boys and getting more confident. I had become Y/n, not "John's sister" like I'd feared. As I won each of the boys over, they all joined in defending me every time someone went to write me off. I had a place, and it was having a very flattering affect on me. "Oh nothing. I've just been working on learning how to play this one song. John taught me the notes... Wanna hear?"

My nerves built up as he sat on the couch, his eyes on me, filled with intrigue as he sat back, crossing his arms. "Charm me, Darling," he cooed. My heart jumped. Despite everything else, I never did get used to the way he said that name. Don't think I ever would.

Looking at the guitar, I built up my courage. I'd disguised my learning this to perform it to Paul as my curiosity about the band. After all, this was one of their songs. "Oh yeah I, tell you something I think you'll understand. When I say that something, I wanna hold your hand!" I met his eyes to see his astonished face and adrenaline rushed through me. I grinned, losing all my nervousness and just going for it. "I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand! Oh please, say to me, you'll let be your man. And please say to me, you'll let me hold your hand! Now let me hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand!" His eyes were glued to me and I looked back with no hesitation. "And when I touch you, I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide. I can't hide. I can't-" He moved so suddenly that I caught off, almost dropping the guitar. He rushed at me, his hands going around the back of my neck and pulling me into a rough kiss. His face was so screwed up that it had shocked me, but he instantly went soft and smooth the second our lips touched. He tried to press against me but the guitar got in the way. Impatiently putting it down, I grabbed his waist and pulled him closer. He smiled against my lips, his hands slipping into my hair. My hands moved to the lapels of his jacket as he gripped my hair, both of us pulling each other closer at different points so that I was against the wall and he was against me without any spaces so that he seemed to melt through me into the wall behind. My hands began wandering and he pushed away, his eyes blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry," I gasped.

He laughed. "I kissed you without prompt or permission and you're apologizing?" We were both blushing terribly, our hair messy and our clothes askew and our lips swollen. "Trust me, Y/n, I want everything with you. But I want to take things slowly too." I scoffed and he winced. Things had been so backwards between us. Everything had been skewy- things that should have been going faster we're dragging on, and things that should have come slowly we were rushing into blind. It had taken him ages to kiss me, but from the very first second we'd met we'd wanted to be close to each other, in a way that was far from innocent. I'd stolen clothes from him - like shirts, not just jackets - after the first time he'd given me a lesson because it had been raining when I walked over, and he'd made me promise not to walk again.... but it had taken us AGES to even hold hands. He'd told me things he'd never told anyone as he played absentmindedly, but I'd only learned his favorite color recently. What eve was even the point of pacing anything between us anymore? "Okay, fair. It was just- you singing our song, and you looked so cocky and you're usually so shy and seeing you rock out and play with such passion it was- really hot." He leaned close again, his eyes searching mine. Suddenly, his voice softened as he whispered, "Yes."

My eyebrows came together. "What?" I asked.

His hand rose to brush against my cheek. "Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man," he softly sung. I blushed and he leaned close, this time kissing me slow and passionately. This was a whole different kind of tempting and I moaned. He pulled back, chuckling. "Go out with me? Officially? Please?"

My eyes found his. "How could I ever say no to you, McCartney?"

Paul licked his lips. "Hopefully I'll get away with a few more things before you learn."

I can promise you, he absolutely did.