George Imagine:

"Your rooms will be ready in a bit. Please, make yourselves comfortable until then."

The four mop topped boys nodded. George followed his band mates towards the couches and sat down, waiting for their hotel room keys. George leaned back on the couch, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling.

It was a long tour in America. The boys had moved on to perform in San Francisco, which they could not be more excited for, in spite of their exhaustion. They would be sleeping at a quaint hotel in Nob Hill. George couldn't wait to go to bed after they checked in. The boys needed it; they had an interview and concert the next day.

George snapped out of his daze when a loud clutter rung through his ears. He broke his gaze from the ceiling and glanced around. A series of cleaning supplies and solutions littered the floor of the lobby right by a cart, and in front of the cart was a young woman, hands over mouth and eyes wide. She looked to be the housekeeper.

"Y/N!" the man at the front desk snapped. "Would you watch where you're going? You're bothering the guests!"

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the woman named Y/N stuttered nervously. She was a little white in the face. "It was an accident. I'll clean it up right away."

"Hurry up," the clerk huffed. "This is the third accident today. No excuses next time, you hear me?"

Y/N nodded frantically. "Yes, of course," she said breathlessly, kneeling on the ground to pick up the supplies. "Right away, sir... It won't happen again."

The front desk clerk scoffed, shaking his head irritably. George faintly heard him mutter, "Stupid girl... So clumsy." Y/N must have heard it too, for she ducked to hide her face in utter embarrassment.

George frowned in annoyance. That was no way to treat a lady.

"Blimey," John breathed, also frowning. "Poor little bird."

"I'd be scared to work under the likes of him too," Paul agreed quietly.

"Well, no wonder she keeps dropping her things," Ringo added under his breath. "The bloke makes her nervous."

George bit his lower lip. He, too, felt horrible for the young woman. He stood up from his seat, quickly said to the lads, "I'll be right back," and approached the girl, who was still collecting the fallen supplies. He bent down next to her and cleared his throat.

Catching his attention, Y/N lifted her head up. She still wore that look, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"C-can I help you, sir?" she squeaked.

George granted her a lopsided smile. "Sir? I'm not that old," he chuckled. "I'm George. Y/N, right?" Y/N blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded her head wordlessly. "Here, let me help you with that."

"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "No, no, that's not necessary, sir... I mean, George."

"Hey, there's no harm in helping a lady, is there?" he grinned.

Y/N blushed all shades of red but smiled timidly in gratitude. She was very pretty, George realized. And her shyness was quite endearing. As he helped her gather the supplies off the floor and place them back into the bins in the cart, the clerk suddenly appeared by their side with an arched brow.

"Mr. Harrison, please, you're a guest," he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes, which were glaring at Y/N. "You shouldn't be helping her. Cleaning is a woman's job, you should be enjoying your stay without any worries."

George saw Y/N look down at her shoes, embarrassed. He glanced at the clerk, irritable.

"I don't mind," he said coldly. "Helping this woman is the least I can do, considering all of the hard work she does for this hotel. I think she deserves the recognition, don't you?"

The clerk gaped at him, taken aback by his response. Y/N stared at him, wide-eyed. "W-well... yes, I suppose," the clerk mumbled.

"And I don't think you should refer to cleaning as a 'woman's job,'" George continued. "I clean my house all the time and I help out when I can. But that doesn't make me any less a man, does it?"

"Of course not!" the clerk gasped.

"I'm glad you think so," George said firmly. "I also believe it isn't really your business what I do here. If I want to help this hard-working lady, then I will. Is that a problem?"

The clerk's eyes widened. "N-no, not at all!" he said quickly. "Mr. Harrison, we are more than happy to have you and your band mates here. I really hope you enjoy your stay. I-I apologize for intruding."

George watched as the clerk staggered away, profusely apologizing. He saw the lads watch in amusement, grinning and winking at the guitarist. They looked impressed.

Y/N stared at George, her mouth dangling open in shock. "M-Mr. Harrison... uh, George," she sputtered. He turned to her, his kind smile returning. "You didn't... you didn't have to do that."

"Why not?" he said. "A lovely lady like you shouldn't be treated so unfairly. It's clear that you work hard for this business. The least that man can do is show his gratitude."

Her blush returned to her cheeks. George held back a chuckle. She was so adorable.

"Th-thank you," she said stiffly. Clearing her throat, she smiled. "Thank you, George. That... that was very kind of you. Nobody has ever done anything like that for me."

"Really?" George said, surprised. "I can't underhand why. Well, maybe your boss will give you a raise. Is he the general manager?"

"He is..."

"I hope sense knocked into him, then."

Y/N giggled softly. Something jolted within George when she laughed. It sounded so melodic, so supple. How beautiful...

"I'd love to talk more," she said apologetically. "But I do need to work. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Of course," George grinned. "Sorry to keep you. Go on ahead. And if that bastard bothers you again, just let me know, will you?"

Y/N chortled. "I'll be sure to tell you."

George laughed as she began to make her way towards the elevator. As she was waiting, he suddenly went up to her once again and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, surprise etched upon her face. But she smiled all the same when she saw it was George.

"Sorry, just one more thing," he said.

"Of course, George, what is it?" she asked.

"Your number," he said cheekily. "Mind if I have it? I'd like to get to know you better. I'm only here for two days, so I'd like to keep in touch."

Y/N stared at him, baffled and flushing once again. But when she snapped out of her stupor, she grinned and pulled out a pen from the pocket of her white apron. She took George's hand and scribbled her digits on his palm.

"You'll call?" she asked hopefully.

"Definitely," George assured her. "I promise."

"I hope you live up to it," she chuckled. "There're lots of pretty girls out there with more exciting jobs. You might forget me."

"Now, how does one forget such a beautiful and kind young woman like you?" he grinned. "Don't worry, love. I'll live up to that promise."

Sure enough, when the concert was over and the Beatles flew back home, the first thing George did was give Y/N a phone call.

Requested by @Catherine-the-writer!