In Your Atmosphere (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 12 - Tomorrow May Rain

Marisol was dozing on the couch in the sitting room under a crocheted afghan when the phone rang. Startled into semi-wakefulness, she fumbled for the phone and knocked the receiver to the floor. She reeled in the cord and dragged the receiver to her ear and mumbled a groggy hello.

"I need you," Paul said, his voice raspy. "I'm ill. My throat is dodgy and my lungs hurt. I need you to take off all your clothes and put on your yellow mac because it's raining. And maybe some boots. High heels. Drive to Taunton. King's Hotel, room 216. I need to slide my hands under your mac and feel your luscious, warm, sweet body. And bring your kettle. And vitamins."

"Who is this again?"

There was a pause. "It's the man you most want to shag in all of Britain."

"Oh, hi Winston Churchill."

There was a bark of laughter followed by a groan and a raspy cough. "Ow, it hurts to laugh. Why do you hate my body and my lungs so much?"

"Still Winston."

"Come here," Paul said, his gravelly voice sounding even more sexy than usual.

"It's a very tempting offer." Marisol stretched carefully, rubbing the kink in her neck. "I'm sorry you're sick. What happened?"

"You were too much for me. I'm old."

"You are old but you probably have a few good years left."

"When can I see you again? We don't have much time, given my age."

"I'm flying today if the weather clears up. I'll tilt my wings to you. Where are you again?"

"Taunton."

"I don't even know what you're saying."

"It's in Somerset. They've a lovely monastery, from the 10th century."

"Good lord. It sounded like you said the 10th century."

"We've got history, love. It's not like where you're from, where the oldest building is probably a two hundred year old wooden house."

"In Somerset," she mused. "You do get around."

There was a muffled sound followed by a spurt of coughing on Paul's end of the phone. "Cor," he said at last. "I feel like shite and it's monkey balls in here. It must be abar minus 40. Bloody radiator."

She'd no idea what monkey balls meant but assumed it was probably preferable to not be monkey balls. "Do you think Brian should phone a doctor?"

"No." He coughed into the receiver and moaned.

She winced, thinking how raw his voice sounded and knowing he couldn't go home and recover in his own bed.

"If you won't come be my nurse, I'll have to recuperate on my own. You know Angela is having us for dinner sometime this week. She and our Neil have a thing apparently."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Marisol sighed, remembering how Angela had talked nonstop about Neil all the way back to London.

Paul coughed again and it sounded as if he dropped the phone. After a few seconds of rustling, he was back on the line. "Ta ra love, I will see you soon."

Marisol replaced the receiver and padded upstairs to her bedroom. She lay in bed and watched the sunrise, torn between wanting to be with Paul and knowing they should take things slowly. Making him the center of her world was the last thing she should do right now.