February 1966

"Just smile and wave," George muttered to his new wife lowly so only she could hear as the press surrounded them. "They can't follow us onto the bloody plane, they'll be gone soon,"

Two years of being at George's side meant that Connie had gotten used to being followed by journalists and photographers wherever they went, that occasion being as they walked through the airport. They weren't really surprised by the amount of press there, even though neither of them had said anything about the honeymoon, but as long as they didn't follow them on the plane they didn't really mind, not even Connie. Usually she didn't particularly like being followed, ironic considering her job as a reporter, but the press in the airport provided her with the perfect distraction from her anxiety over flying.

They'd soon escape the press anyway, both of them hoping for some peace away from everything and everyone else, but being figures of interest would make that rather tricky for both of them. Connie had remembered with dread the way Ringo and Maureen's honeymoon was gate-crashed with reporters, and she knew that similar interest would be there for her and George even though they'd done loads of interviews on their actual wedding day, whilst still keeping exclusive content for the New Times with Ruby doing a full write-up of the day.

Still though, the press were an unavoidable part of their lives, and so as the two of them made their way through to the gate of their flight, Connie held onto George's hand, trying to flash a smile occasionally as cameras were pointed in their faces. She was just glad that, even with the early morning flight, she'd taken her time to dress nicely in a black and white striped dress, styling her hair up into a bun on top of her head. George was also glad for her dress choice, not just because of how beautiful he thought she looked in it, but because it had a high collar and what with all the photographers he didn't really want a picture of him and his new wife on the front page of a newspaper when her neck was still littered with love bites. They were only going to be away for two weeks, and he didn't particularly fancy having to face John for that conversation when they got back.

"Mr and Mrs Harrison!" One of the journalists called over the rest, and Connie and George exchanged a small grin, the new title still exciting to both of them, despite the fact her name was legally Harrison-Lennon. "Where are you off to? Somehwere warm and romantic for your honeymoon?"

"Yeah, Blackpool," Connie replied dryly with a shrug, and George held back a snicker of amusement.

"How does it feel to be married?" another reporter asked them as they stopped at the gate.

"Terrible, worst mistake of my life," George answered sarcastically, and though Connie was busy looking for their passports in her handbag, she elbowed him sharply in the side. "She'll tell you the same, she's sick of me already,"

"I've been sick of you since 1956," she responded jokily as she handed her passports to security, holding back a laugh as she noticed the horrified expressions on the journalists' faces. "Sorry, that wasn't what you were expecting was it? Fine, well, we're head-over-heels obsessed with each other and we're off to go and shag on some sandy beach far away,"

"Stick that in your newspaper," George added, shooting Connie a surprised but proud smirk, taking hold of her hand again as security handed their passports back, allowing them through to get on the plane. "See ya,"

With that, the two took off at a run down the corridor, dashing down the stairs that led to the runway. There was no need in running, but it just seemed to add to the thrill of it all as the two of them laughed excitedly, feeling as though they were finally escaping from everything, everything but each other, the two of them alone at long last. As they came to the bottom step, George stopped, pulling Connie to a halt too, and as she turned to him with a small frown, he put his hands on her waist, moving her closer as he pushed a kiss to her lips. Her hands went up to his cheeks as his moved up to brush any fallen hairs out of her face, biting the bottom of her lip ever so slightly as she sighed in happiness. He pulled away, and she instantly wanted to kiss him again, but that was what she was like every time he kissed her. That was one of the perks of being married, being able to kiss him any time she wanted.

"I've been dying to do that but didn't wanna do it in front of that lot," George confessed with a grin, his face millimetres away from hers, their noses brushing against each other.

"Yeah, Brian told us to keep it really low key in front of press, imagine what he'd do if he saw us snogging on every front page!" she laughed, her eyes creasing at the sides as she grinned, an expression that made George note just how much he loved her, and just how lucky he felt to call her his wife. Connie noticed him looking and raised an eyebrow before continuing, "What you staring at?"

"Just me wife," George shrugged, trying to hide his grin, but that was impossible as Connie let out another laugh of joy. He pushed another quick kiss to her lips before pulling away, taking her hand and saying, "Come on, we better get on,"

"Yeah, I never thought I'd be excited to get on a plane!" she practically cheered, letting George lead her out onto the runway and up the plane steps.

***

"I never want to leave this place," Connie whispered to George as they laid out on a rock on the beach, listening to the waves rush onto the shore, the sun shining down on both of them.

George didn't respond, but that was alright. It was nice just to be in his company, to feel his presence next to hers, to have him completely alone. It was nice just to lay with him in the sunshine, knowing they were completely undisturbed to just be themselves. She let out a content sigh before rolling onto her stomach, letting the sun blaze down on her back, resting her chin on her folded arms as she looked out at the sea.

As a kid she'd never been on holiday. Both her parents worked and they earned enough to live comfortably, but not enough to be able to afford a holiday away somewhere. She'd been on day trips as a teenager with John to Blackpool and she'd tried hitchhiking to Wales with Paul, but she'd never been abroad until the Beatles hit the big time. It felt like an absurd privilege to her to be able to afford trips away to places like America for their tours, the working class girl in her feeling amazed that such opportunities were available, but being in Barbados with George was a whole other wonder to her.

To be laid on a beach on the other side of the world next to her husband was something that Connie couldn't quite comprehend. She never thought she would be lucky enough to call someone as wonderful as George her husband, and she never thought she'd be lucky enough for someone as lovely as George to want to spend the rest of his life with her. Growing up she was always so fearless, not caring what anyone thought, but she remembered feeling as though no one would ever love her, not properly, not how her parents loved each other. Maybe that was instilled in her by the other girls at her school, the pretty ones who didn't have odd noses and frizzy hair, the ones who'd flirt mercilessly with other boys. Sure Connie was mates with lads, but none of them ever thought she was anything compared to the other girls in her class, the ones who talked nice and were polite. The weird insecurity of feeling as though no one was going to ever like her more than just a mate was probably something that wasn't helped by growing up motherless, so with no one to turn to who'd make her feel like her doubts were rediculous, she hardened her shell, and if someone said something she didn't like she'd just punch them and move on. She thought that was just how she'd live her life, more focused on getting a career than having a happy and successful love life.

Except there was George. Her best friend ever since she was fourteen, the boy on the school bus, the teenager who'd share his sandwiches with her when she was sad, the one who'd meet her outside the Cavern when she'd finished her shift, the one who'd always loved her without her properly realising. While ever she was doubting herself, there was George, silently loving her, unaware of the undiscovered crush she had on him too. Her love for him was always there, buried under friendship and self-doubt, but it was there and years later prevailed and flourished. Who was to know that he'd loved her too all those years, only for the pair of them to get drunk and end up together?

Everything that had happened because of George she was so grateful for. She always felt like she was sure of herself, but she was never more sure of anything than being with George. There was a lot of things in her life she was proud of, like passing all her O Levels, moving halfway across the country alone, and building a good career for herself, but without George there were so many things that she wouldn't have been able to do. She was forever in amazement that that man loved her as much as she loved him, and as she adjusted her sunglasses she glanced over at him, seeing the sun beat down on his beautiful face, she felt a pang deep in her stomach as she realised just how much she adored him.

"What you staring at?" George spoke without looking at her, a faint smile on his face.

"Just me husband," Connie answered teasingly, rolling onto her side as she scooted closer to him, putting her hand on his chest.

"I don't want to go home," George sighed, rolling onto his side too to face her, their foreheads touching gently, his hand moving to hold her waist. "I want to stay here with you, alone,"

"We could run away," she suggested as a joke, knowing that there was a small part of her that wanted it not to be. "Tell the lads and Brian your done with being a Rockstar, I'll tell work I'm done writing naff articles, then we could just stay here and just, y'know, live,"

"You make a compelling argument, love," he spoke, leaning closer to kiss the tip of her nose. "We can't though really, can we?"

"No, there'd be a man hunt for you," Connie sighed softly, remembering that, even though they'd gone undisturbed practically their whole honeymoon, her husband was one of the most famous men in the world, not to mention the fact millions of girls were jealous of her for marrying him. "The quiet Beatle can't go missing,"

"So quiet he's just disappeared," George joked and Connie laughed. "It's been nice to just be ourselves though, y'know? Like we've not seen a single photographer or press man this whole time we've been here, we've not had to be a Beatle and his girl,"

"Feels like when we were kids," Connie nodded. "Remember that time we got the bus from mine to Calderstones park?"

"What, when we were like sixteen?" George asked with a frown.

"Yeah, summer holidays, fifty seven, I think," she nodded. "You made sandwiches and I smuggled out a couple of me dad's beers and we sat by the lake under an oak tree just talking,"

"Yeah, was a nice day, that," George remembered. "That was the first time I saw you wearing a skirt that wasn't your school uniform and when I told you it looked nice you threatened to thump me,"

"Didn't want you thinking I'd gone soft just cause my jeans were in wash pile," Connie shrugged narrowing her eyes teasingly. "I'd love to go back to Liverpool and sit by that lake. Obviously not right now, sittin' by the sea beats that by miles, but y'know what I mean. It'd be nice to just go home to Liverpool and go where we used to and not be bothered by anyone,"

"Yeah, it'd be nice," he agreed, with a small nod before sitting up, stretching. "But maybe instead of revisiting the past we should just make new memories,"

With that, he jumped off the rock, landing onto the sand, grinning up at Connie as he held his hand out to her, beckoning for her to join him. With a sigh she took his hand, slipping off the rock to land at his side, stretching as she looked out at the beach. George, however, was focusing on the sea, the waves gently rolling to shore as the sunlight twinkled off them, and without taking his eyes off it, his hands went down to the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it off and throwing it up onto the rock they'd just been laying on.  Connie raised her eyebrow, enjoying the sight of him shirtless, but didn't get too long to enjoy it as George moved over to her, sweeping her up into his arms. She shrieked out a laugh, wrapping her arms around his shoulder as he held her tightly, scared of him dropping her just like he nearly did when he insisted on carrying her through the door of Kinfauns when they first moved in.

"You can swim, right?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, my Mum taught me when I was like six," Connie told him, not catching on to why he was asking until she spotted the mischevious glint in George's eye as he took off at a run down the beach towards the sea, which was when she gasped before exclaiming, "George fucking Harrison, don't you dare!"

"Sorry, love," he grinned, fighting back laughter as he waded into the sea stopping only when the water came up to his hips.

"George, fucking put me down," she insisted, looking at him wide eyed.

"Alright," he shrugged, before dropping his grip of her, letting her fall into the sea, laughing as she let out a small scream.

Connie crashed into the sea, but thankfully George hdn't dropped her in a part that was too deep so she managed to catch her balance before she fully went under, but regardless her hair was soaked, and so was the sun-dress she had put on over the top of her bikini. With a scowl, she stood up, digging her feet into the sand at the bottom of the sea to keep herself steady as the waves rolled around her, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head to look at her husband properly. The man in question was in hysterics, until he saw how serious Connie looked. She pulled off the now drenched sun-dress, tossing it back to shore where they had left the rest of their stuff, leaving her in just her swimming clothes.

"Go on, and the rest," George suggested, gesturing to her bikini. She merely scowled again before splashing him.

"You'd be lucky," she muttered. "You wait till I tell John you tried to drown me,"

"I didn't try to drown you!" he exclaimed, fighting off a laugh until his face turned serious as he considered what she'd said. "He'd bloody kill me, you won't actually tell him I dropped you in the sea, will you, Con?"

"Depends," Connie shrugged, enjoying seeing the fear on George's face, until she broke down into laughter, splashing him again so the water hit his chest. "It's a bloody good job I love you,"

"Say it again," he grinned, taking hold of her hand, pulling her closer, so close their bodies were touching.

"I love you," she said simply, lifting her legs in the water so they were wrapped around his waist, his hands holding her back as they embraced closely.

He didn't say it back, but it was fine, because instead he pushed a kiss to her lips. That kiss, as they embraced in the sea with the sun glaring down on them, was one she remembered, for the rest of their honeymoon and for a long time after, that day being one of the best of her life. It was a moment she thought of whenever she struggled to sleep, trying to take herself off to a happy place. Little did she know George felt the exact same way.

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Word count: 2833

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