A/N Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles or Brian Epstein, and this never happened.

Paul McCartney had some work to do at Abbey Road Studios with Brian Epstein, when suddenly, the phone from the studio rang and Brian answered it, "Yeah? No, no, Paul is busy right now… Is it really important? Well, ok George, make it quick."

The Beatles' manager handed the phone to Paul, "It's George. Be quick, we have work to do."

"George?"

"Come right now to the hospital."

"The hospital? What the hell happened?"

"Your stupid boyfriend has been feeling sick all morning, then he fainted and…"

"JOHN FAINTED? IS HE OK? POOR BABY…"

"He's fine, but the doctor says they need to examine his blood, but he's fucking scared of syringes. I can't believe it, he's crying like a bloody baby."

"Poor little thing…"

"NO! He's big enough; he's always giving the impression of the fearless Beatle, but can't handle a fucking syringe? He's crying saying he won't let anybody take his blood out if you're not here. So you better get going."

"I can't go now… I'm busy y'know… But tell John I said I love him and everything will be fine."

"But he's saying he needs to hold your hand and is shouting like fucking crazy, 'I WANT TO HOLD PAUL'S HAAAND, AND WHEN I TOUCH HIM I FEEL HAPPY INSIDEEE…'"

"Awwwww, how cute!"

"Not cute at all, I want to punch him, these bloody blood exam is really important and he's just shouting all around the hospital, and everyone's shouting him to shut up, but he just keeps crying, 'MAAACCA, MAAAACCA, I NEED MY PAULIEEEE.'"

"Hand him the phone and I'll talk to him…"

"PAUL I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T COME HERE SOMEONE'S GOING TO END KILLING JOHN 'CAUSE HE'S FUCKING IRRITATING THE WHOLE HOSPITAL. I DON'T CARE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THERE, JUST GET OUT OF THE STUDIO AND COME OR EVERYONE HERE IS GOING TO END UP SUICIDING. YOU UNDERSTAND?"

When Paul hung up the phone, Brian gave him a look like saying, 'That phone call lasted too much'

"I need to go, Brian…"

"No, no, we're just in the middle of the project and…"

"John needs me."

Paul ran off the studio to get inside his car and drove quickly to the hospital. When he arrived and entered through the door, everyone looked at him like if he was some kind of god.

He heard a nurse shouting, "OH MY GOD EVERYONE, PAUL'S HERE! YOU HAVE COME TO SAVE US! RUN QUICKLY BEFORE I MURDER JOHN FUCKING LENNON."

Paul got in the room where John was hiding down a table crying, "NOOOOO, you won't take blood out of my body! Not until Paulie arrives!"

When he got in, everyone's faces showed a sign of relief. "Thank God you arrived, Paul. John's driving us crazy with all that shouting and crying about you. He's 23 and he's afraid of syringes, I can't believe that…" said the doctor.

When John noticed his boyfriend arrived, he smiled happily, "Paulie! You're here! I knew you would come! Those mean doctors want to take out blood from my body, but you won't let them do that, right Macca?"

Paul crouched down to sit underneath the table next to where John was and caressed his hair softly, "The doctors need to give you an examination and they need your blood for it. I promise it won't hurt that much, love."

"But I don't want to…"

"Come on Johnny… You can't tell me you're afraid of that little syringe. You have handled worst things than an injection. You're John Winston Lennon: teachers at school said you were going to be nobody and look where you are right now; one of the best musicians, a famous Beatle!"

"Can't a Beatle have fears?"

"Of course, love, I'm afraid of losing you."

"I'm afraid of losing you, too."

Paul kissed John's forehead, "See? There are worst things than a stupid injection."

"I guess you're right…"

Their lips met for a tender kiss, and when they separated, John stroke Paul's cheek asking, "Will you hold my hand while they inject me?"

"Of course, my love."

All the people present in the hospital room were looking astonished everything that happened. How could Paul calm down John so fast? Suddenly, John stood up, and calmly said to the doctor: "I'm ready."

"Just sit on that chair." pointed the doctor.

John sat on the chair, and Paul sat next to him holding his hand. "Close your eyes, John." murmured Paul.

The nurse put medicinal alcohol in John's arm, and John asked worried, "Paulie, what is she putting in my arm? I don't want…"

Paul caressed John's hair again, "Sshh… Calm down, it's just alcohol… Just breathe and think about good things."

John smiled slightly and giggled, "I'm going to think about you, then."

"Think of me… Think of what happened yesterday…"

"Yesterday? Oh yeah…"

"We're ready," the nurse announced, "You can open your eyes now, Mr. Lennon."

John surprisingly asked, "You took my blood already?"

"Yes, while you were talking to Mr. McCartney."

"Awesome! Can I leave now?"

"Yes, you may." the nurse replied.

"You see? You spent like three hours crying, and taking out your blood took the nurse less than a minute and you didn't even notice!" exclaimed the younger Beatle.

"But… I just wanted to hold your hand…"

"I love you, silly boy."

"I love you too, darling."