Contagious? Ch. 1

"JOOHHHNN!!!"

"PAAAUUULLL!!!"

John and Paul were just trying to have a peaceful time at wherever they were trying to go. The mall, the market, the bakery, who knows! But, there's that one problem that always shows up and gets in their faces wherever they go.

Fangirls.

Loads and loads of fangirls, screaming their names as loud as they can. They always hope of one of The Beatles catching sight of them and fall in love. That doesn't happen. They should know that by now. John was married, even!

But something was wrong today. Not with the annoying-as-hell fangirls, but with one of them. One of The Beatles. Something was either wrong with John or Paul. The answer?

Paul.

John sprinted across the gravel as fast as he could away from the fangirls. Paul, who was usually right behind, was not. He was running, but not fast enough to meet Johns expectations. The fangirls were right on Paul's tail, and Paul looked somewhat weary.

John took a glance at Paul "'EY!! RUN FASTER, LAD!!!"

"I-I CA-" Paul got interrupted by a coughing fit, and he started to slow down. John panicked, and raced back to Paul. He grabbed Paul's hand, which he then noticed was ghostly pale, and took off again.

Paul let out a groan, which was odd for him. He never really whined. "D-Don't go so fast!" Paul croaked.

John didn't give Paul a reply. He knew something was terribly wrong, though, so he just kept running.

When they reached the house, and when the police arrived, John pushed Paul in the door first, then John yanked himself in, and slammed the door loudly, it's slam echoing through their house.

"What's the matter with ye!?" John asked as he staggered his way to his special recliner, which he let no one sit in but himself. "Ye were draggin' yerself so far behind!"

Paul just kinda shrugged and flopped onto the couch. He was sweating like a pig, and he look ghostly pale all over now.

John noticed and got concerned. "Hey.." John sat up straight in his recliner. The recliner moaned as he did so. "Ye alrigh'..? Ye look terrible."

"Wha'..? Me..? You best be... jokin'..." Paul croaked as he shut his eyes. Sweat trickled down Paul's pale face, onto his damp shirt. It looked like he ran for miles and miles.

"No, somethin' is wrong. I can tell." John got up from his recliner, the recliner moaned harder as he did. John walked over to Paul, and Paul opened his eyes wearily and slowly.

"Wh-Wha'..?"

John shushed Paul as he placed his hand onto Paul's sweaty forehead. Paul's forehead was burning; burning badly.

"Oh boy.." John said as he lifted his hand, it now being covered in sweat. "Ye' got a high one."

"High wha'..."

"Fever.."

"...I don't feel so good..." Paul mumbled softly as he shut his weary eyes again.

"Wha' hurts?" John kneeled by Paul.

"...Me stomach..." Paul gently moved his head on the pillow behind him. "...Throat, too..."

"Hm.." John looked at Paul's sickly pale face. Only his eyes and nose had color. His nose was tinted red, and his eyes, well, that's obvious.

"Think ye should lay in bed?" John asked as he placed one of his hands on Paul's stomach.

Paul blushed a little at John. "Well...."

"Why am I even askin'." John said to himself as he lifted Paul up the couch. Paul clung onto Johns shirt, desperate for John not to drop him. John took Paul upstairs to his bedroom, and laid him comfortably in bed.

John pulled the covers over Paul's pale body. "'m gonna get Rings and Georgie, m'kay? We're gonna make ye feel better."

Paul didn't reply whatsoever. He was too tired. Too sick. Too bleh.

Moments later, John came back with George and Ringo close behind. "Paul?"

"Mmrrmm..."

John walked into Paul's bedroom. "Paul! I said are ye-"

John suddenly stopped. He was looking right at Paul, and he got really concerned. Paul was laying in bed, clutching his stomach tightly, and shaking. There was a trashcan by the bed, and the room suddenly gave an awful stench.

George frowned. "Not feelin' good, lad?"

Paul just shook his head. Something was wrong.