? Oneshots ?

I'm So Tired - McLennon (platonic, sick)

As weary as he was, the bassist couldn't sleep ten minutes later, and it was growing late. Even when the lights were off, but John could tell by the fact that Paul was moving around.

"Hey, Paul, it's really late. Just go to sleep, yeah?" The guitarist whispered, as to not wake the other two. 

"But I can't, John. It feels impossible to." 

"Come on, you were falling asleep at dinner, surely you could..?" 

-

Paul just sniffled due to his congestion, though John figured it was out of drama. 

"Oh, don't start this now. You just want my attention." 

"No, I don't, really, it feels too hot." 

John tiredly sat upright, and placed a hand on the man's forehead. "You're burning up, it's really that bad?" 

-

"Yes," Paul said with a slightly lower voice than he normally had.

"I'll get you some water with ice, stay there," the brown eyed man spoke softly, causing his friend to pout, though he couldn't see that in the dark and without his glasses.

A moment later, the rhythm guitar player felt a head on his shoulder, and sighed when he saw it was the unwell bassist.

"Are you always this needy when you're ill?" John wondered and handed him the water.

-

Paul shrugged from where he was, carefully stepping back so he could drink the water. It made him shiver, but at the same time, felt relieving.

After he put the glass down, he stood there silently, until John interrupted his thoughts. 

"Now you should get some rest, Paulie." He brought his songwriting partner back to the bed, gently pushing him into it. "I guess I'll sleep on the sofa," John added, not wanting to get sick.

The hazel-eyed man gasped quietly, honestly not wanting to be left alone. "No, John, please stay. The bed's more comfortable than the sofa." He whined.

-

John thought it over for a moment, then started to walk over, even though he was already at the other half of the room. "Okay, but if I can't sing tomorrow, I'm blaming you." 

"Ta, Johnny." Paul whispered gratefully, but he nearly laughed when he saw John bumping into several pieces of furniture before finding the bed.

"I'm going to change my mind if you're going to laugh at how I can't see." John warned seriously, and Paul stopped his giggling.

And very shortly after, they both fell asleep. Staying asleep this time. 

--

The next morning, Paul was feeling mostly better, John was not. 

Paul and George went downstairs to get breakfast, as John and Ringo had been asleep still.

"That's what I get for not sleeping on the sofa," John mumbled to himself with a sniffle.

"Aww, I'll take care of you, Johnny." Ringo soothed, startling John since the voice came from seemingly nowhere.

-

Ringo stretched and glanced at his band mate, a look in his eyes that said he'd never do no harm.

"Where'd Hazza and Macca go, then?" The guitarist asked with confusion. He didn't often use both nicknames, so this puzzled Ringo.

"Down to get breakfast."

"Oh. All right." John said, a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

-

The drummer got up and tried to open the curtains, but the younger man groaned at the bright light, causing Ringo to reverse his actions with an apology.

"Agh, it's ok. My eyes are just all sensitive." He complained.

"Maybe you've gotten what Paul had," Ringo suggested.

"Really? How'd you know?" 

"Because he was coughing all night, according to Geo."

-

The older man paused, "I wouldn't know it myself, 'cos I slept all through the night."

John nodded, rather startled when the missing two returned, both younger members talking.

"Could you keep it down? You're making my head hurt." John whined.

"Sorry, didn't know we were being loud." Paul said with a quieter voice.

-

George ceased his conversation, sitting next to Ringo and talking to him instead, softer this time.

Paul, meanwhile, was curious about his friend. "All right?" He asked John with a smile.

John shook his head, holding onto the bedside table for support whilst he got up, "I've caught your cold, Paulie."

The bassist frowned, sitting down on the bed as well.

-

"Well, we'll take care of ya, right, lads?" Paul asked the other musicians, earning agreements.

"Of course. Hopefully me and Rich don't get ill," George grinned half-jokingly.

John just sighed and flopped back onto the pillows with exhaustion, not in a mood to argue.

Paul rubbed John's back, knowing he'd get better soon, but for now, was as dramatic as he could be.

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word count: 1,203.