Chapter Text
It's 1962. You are a young 19 year old woman named Donna working at a hair salon during the day and going out to drink with friends during the night. One of those friends happens to be Richard Starkey - as you've known him all throughout your school years before he decided to take up the name of Ringo Starr. You still recalled the day he decided to join the Liverpool music scene, and you thought he wouldn't make it, only for him to try to prove you wrong.
"I've joined a new band," he says, slouched back in the Cavern's squeaky leather seats. "The Beatles. Formed by that fella who was in the Quarrymen."
You pause, scoffing a bit before taking another sip of your beer. "Yeah, and I've got a modelling contract, haven't I."
"I'm serious!" Ringo complains. "They needed a new drummer, so I said alright."
"You're having me on," you say, giving him a sideways look.
"I’m not!" he insists. "I can show you, can't I? I seen the others bring a couple birds down last rehearsal. You could come, couldn't you?" He nudges forward a bit. "Tomorrow, after your shift?"
You glance through his head, considering it. A band rehearsal. What sounds grand and almost stage-ready but is really a circle-jerk of four or so guys drowning in a haze of cigarette smoke, no sleep no food no money no girls.
That last part was a source of concern - one girl with only guys in the room? But you and Ringo have known each other for long enough to know that if anything were to happen to you, he'd be there - such was the case when you had a strange bum asking for your landline number and he distracted him so you could slip out the Cavern's door, earning a punch to the face -, so there really was nothing to worry about.
"You know what? I'm in." You down the rest of your drink, requesting another.
"'Right." He nods. "Bring... anything, honestly."
The next day, you make your way to the address Ringo had hastily written on a piece of tissue with a borrowed pen, holding a case of beer and some containers of take-out. You get to a worn down pub Ringo never once took you to before, reading the hastily written "door in the back, third to the right", wondering what that means. You swoop past the scary looking bartender with a "Ringo sent me" and stumble your way into the even more worn back section.
You enter the rehearsal room. It is comically tiny, wires scattered everywhere. You place the case of beer in the mini-fridge, which is when the boys notice you.
"There she is!" Ringo nervously greets, turning to a ridiculously cute looking fellow. "Paul, this is Donna. She can stay to watch, can't she?"
This so-called Paul smiles, stepping closer to lend a hand. "Nice to finally meet you, love."
You accept his hand with a polite smile. "You too. The others?"
"John must be running late. George is..." Paul looks over your shoulder, "in the corner."
You look behind you, finding that indeed there is a quiet, almost intimidating bloke in the corner, hyper-focused on tuning his guitar.
"Sorry lads," John barges in, placing his guitar down onto an empty seat. "Who is this then? You're the one he's been bangin' on about?"
You roll your eyes. "Donna. And you are..?"
"I'm John. Pleasure." He turns to Ringo, ruffling his hair. "Of course you brought a bird. You combed your hair for her too?"
You pull aside, placing down your stuff on a vacant seat in the corner opposite to George's, taking the take-out containers out.
"No way, you brought food?" Paul smiles, surprised.
George jerks his head your way, as if commanded, but just stares on... enviously...
"Yeah. I figured I'd... make a good first impression." You smile back. "I also brought beer."
John pipes up. "Now, this is a proper guest. Make yourself at home. Strip if you need to."
Paul smacks him as they chuckle to one another.
You laugh, deciding the room of starved broke young musicians could start rehearsal with a proper meal.
Who do you pass the first container to?
A.K.A... Who do you approach first?