A/N: Hello, dear readers! Enjoy!
Paul's POV
"Does that answer your question?"
I touched my lips in astonishment. Had John Winston Lennon really just kissed me? And, more to the point, did I just kiss him back? It took me a moment to actually come to terms with what had just transpired between the two of us. I came to the conclusion that it wasn't a bad thing.
"I'm so-" John said, looking extremely embarrassed and nervous, both quite atypical emotions for him. He seemed to be trying to apologize, so I stopped his mouth with another kiss.
"Don't be," I murmured against his lips. "Don't be sorry. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." I felt him smile, but then he stiffened with sudden realization.
"What if I'm still contagious?" he asked, worry in his eyes. No one ever wants to get the flu, but if I had to get it, there was no other person I'd rather get it from.
I pulled away. "I dunno, I get the flu, I guess." I shrugged, unbothered. Footsteps coming toward the door made me spring away from John's side and sit in the chair in the opposite corner of the room. It was as good as illegal to be, well, the only word for that I could think of was queer, in England. I hadn't the faintest inkling how it was in the rest of the world, but it certainly got you nowhere in life here.
Brian, George, and Ringo came through the door. "How are you feeling, mate?" Ringo asked John concernedly. John grinned brightly and wiggled his fingers at Ringo.
"Never better!" he said. Ringo raised his eyebrows at him. "Okay, I feel like bloody hell, but for God's sake stop fussing over me!" Ringo backed off hurriedly with a mumbled apology.
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, I'm sorry Rings. I dunno what's wrong with me." Ringo patted John's shoulder and we sat down again for awhile.
After about a half an hour of idle chitchat, Brian spoke up. "Boys, I think we should leave John alone to rest for awhile."
"Aw, Eppy, do you have to go?" John whined, showing that he was feeling at least marginally better. "You're not bothering me any."
"Yeah, can we stay, Brian?" we begged. "Please, please, please, please, please..." we chanted, knowing it would annoy Brian to no end. And we were right.
"...ugh! Fine!" Brian exclaimed after much hemming, hawwing, and grinding of the teeth.
"Thanks, Eppy!" we chorused, cheeky grins all around. "You're the best!" Brian merely harrumphed and went out the door covering up a small smile.
"So..." George said, stretching out on the thin couch that was much too small for his lanky form. "Now what?"
For the next few hours, we sat around and talked, mostly about music and the different pros and cons of different instruments. We were rising on a tidal wave of fame, and thusly had much more money than we were used to absolutely burning a hole in our pockets. At times the discussion would get quite heated and a nurse would pop her head in to admonish us for being too loud. As soon as she would leave John would pull an obscene face at the door. Thankfully, the nurse was always out of eyeshot when this occurred.
I couldn't help but allow my eyes to keep straying to John's face. I wasn't alone in this, as I felt John's eyes on me from time to time. When he was sure no one was looking, he'd sneak me a wink or a secret look. I couldn't believe my reaction each time. I was blushing like a schoolboy trying to ask a girl to a dance for the first time! He noticed this and quirked an eyebrow at me, a silent question in his eyes. I shrugged. It still amazed me that we could have a nearly completely nonverbal conversation.
"Uh... guys?" George interjected. "You're doing it again." We froze, we'd only come to terms with it a few hours ago, how could he possibly know?
"Doing what?" I asked, fiddling with the bottom of my shirt discreetly.
"Having a conversation without actually having a conversation," he replied, frowning after he said it as he realized that it probably had made more sense in his head. Ringo blinked, attempting to make sense of George's comment.
"Sorry?" John asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at the left corner of his mouth. George was spared from having to explain his previous statement when a nurse came in to check on John.
"Well, Mr. Lennon, how are you feeling?" she asked briskly and I was thankful that she wasn't screaming and jumping up and down. It was a welcome change.
"Can't complain, can't complain," he replied airily, but I could tell his head was still killing him. "How about you? Are you comfortable?" She looked confused. "Tell me, is this your first flight?" She rolled her eyes while suppressing a smile—apparently smiling was "unprofessional"—and finished checking the obviously bored Beatle over.
"It looks like you're doing a bit better, but we're going to have to keep you here overnight for observation yet." John immediately put on a pouty face.
"Aw, do I have to?" he asked childishly. I'm sure he would have crossed his arms in a huff if it weren't for the needles sticking out of his arms.
"Yes, you have to," she said firmly and I got a no-nonsense vibe from her. "And visiting hours end in ten minutes," she added, giving us all a stern look. "And I expect that you'll all be leaving before they're up. No you may not stay here overnight," she overrode any protests that we were going to have.
Defeated, we agreed that yes, we would leave as soon as she left and she did just that.
"Looks like we'll have to leave," I sighed. Ringo and George said goodbye to John and waited for me to follow. "I'll be out in a second," I said, waving them on. "Wait in the waiting room for me, yeah?"
"Don't be too long, Paul," said Ringo. "You wouldn't want crazy-nurse-lady to come and go crackers on you!" I nodded and waited until they were out of the room to move over to the side of John's bed.
He looked up at me with weary eyes. "I'll be all right, Paul. I'm just so bloody knackered right now I can't see straight." I planted a feather-light kiss on his still-feverish forehead and brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"We'll call tomorrow morning, okay?" I said kissing him again, this time on the lips.
"Bye, Paulie," he said softly, settling back on the thin hospital pillows. I managed to tear myself out of the room with some difficulty. I wanted to stay right there with him.
Ringo and George were standing in the waiting room somewhat awkwardly, keeping their eyes trained on the ground lest someone recognize them as half the Beatles and stampede them. I approached them and we carefully made our way out the door, heads bent forward as though a strong wind was blowing.
We almost made it home walking, a rare feat in itself, but then a shrill shriek alerted us to the presence of one of our more hard-core fans. "Look! It's the BEATLES!" There was barely enough time to exchange an eye roll that said, "Here we go again!" before we were sprinting full tilt down the street in a mad attempt to keep ahead of the hysterical girls.
Unfortunately, a horde of shrieking girls appeared from the other side of the street that we were running on. Now we were fenced in on both sides. Normally, I would have considered it extremely rude to go crashing through the yards of people we didn't know but as the saying goes, desperate times call for desperate measures. I made a little hand motion, we veered sharply to the left, and ran through the backyards of central Liverpool. It confused the girls long enough for us to build up a bit of a lead.
Completely out of breath, we skidded to a stop in front of our house and stood there for a moment to recapture the ability to breathe normally. When we could finally walk inside, George and Ringo headed to the refrigerator to get something to eat. It had been an eternity since lunch and I was starving as well. Thankfully, there was enough food to feed even George's appetite. And what an appetite it was.
After we finished eating, Ringo yawned so hugely that his eyes watered. "I think that may be the sign that we all need to go to bed," I said with a grin directed at the drummer who was now rubbing the yawn-induced tears out of his eyes.
"Yeah, I think that's a g-g-good id-" Ringo couldn't finish his sentence as another monstrous yawn made itself heard.
I shuffled upstairs, pulled my pajamas on, and collapsed into bed. Today had been an emotionally draining day. What with our best friend going to the hospital and then my figuring out that I was in love with said best friend and he was in love with me. No, definitely not your average day. I quickly fell into a deep sleep. One song kept running through my head as I slept.
Oh yeah I'll tell you something,
I think you'll understand.
When I say that something's...
I want to hold your hand.
That deep sleep was interrupted however, when I woke up and dashed to the bathroom to promptly empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. A pair of feet came stumbling into the bathroom after me.
"Paul, are you—oh." George hastily retreated several steps upon seeing my condition. He flinched as I retched again. "I'll go get you some aspirin or something," he said, going in the direction of the bathroom. It seemed as though John wasn't the only one with the flu now. I pulled myself upright and gargled some mouthwash to try and get the foul taste of vomit out of my mouth.
George returned with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. "Thanks Georgie," I said, gulping a pill down with a mouthful of water.
"Not a problem," he said, helping me get back to bed. "I suppose this means that we don't have a recording session tomorrow, what with half of our band missing?"
I managed a weak chuckle as I crawled under the covers again and he exited my room. "Goodnight Paul," George whispered.
"'Night Geo," I mumbled before I fell back into a fevered sleep with strange dreams. Somehow, John managed to be in every single one.
A/N: So, what did you think? Please let me know! Review and you get a virtual cookie :)