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heavily inspired by Malkat1969's imagine in her John and Paul book. Go check her out, she's bloody amazing!
"I need more tea!"
Her eyes lifted from the magazine and her head fell back at the sound of John's nasally voice yet again. The third time in the past 15 minutes.
Three weeks prior he had began to get sick, and in true honesty, she was getting tired of him. In that three weeks, he had successfully thrown her out of the bedroom to sleep on the sofa, guilted her into staying home from work for two days and tried to get her as sick as him by running after her around the house when his limbs would allow it. It was tiring to say the least, along with the work she had been doing at the shop she worked at.
"Do you need it right now?" she yelled back at the man, who she figured was in the same position she left him in when she ordered him to stop following her around the house and to get some rest.
"Do you want me to parish because of my nasty throat? It's completely up to you birdie!" he chimed.
She sighed and watched as her beloved magazine (which she had been trying to read for three days now) fell out of her hands and onto the floor. Their kitchen wasn't crowded at all, but it was crowded enough where she had to call to John to ask where the tea was. It was a big house, the one the two of them shared, but it was confusing to get around, especially to other people. She found herself challenged when it came to telling someone where the bathroom was. In other words, it was ridiculous.
The teacup rattled as she carefully climbed the stairs, saucer in one hand and teapot in the other. She could hear John shift under the blanket as she pushed open the door with her back. He had a sly grin on his face, and she didn't even have to ask to know what he did. But she did; "What's going on?"
"I'm just watching me girl," her eyes flew to his, John relaxing his hands underneath his head. Yeah, he had done something.
"What've you done, Lennon?" she sneered his name, narrowing her eyes into slits at his airy expression. His hands came out from behind him, and they reached out to her passing body. She stumbled as she caught her stomach on his fingers, and he chuckled as she fiddled with the saucer.
"Maybe I won't bring you your bloody tea then," she said, turning to leave the room.
"No! Birdie, come back to me,"
She stopped mid in her tracks, turning carelessly around to peer into her boyfriend's eyes. Damn, he was an ass when he was sick.
She placed the tea on the nightstand and reached out to place a hand against his forehead. He still had a fever, much like the past couple weeks.
"I'm worrying about you, John," she admitted, reaching on the floor to grab some discarded clothes to throw in the basket. "You haven't lost your fever yet."
"Well, doesn't that mean I get to spend more time with you?"
She rolled her eyes and moved around the bed to slither underneath the covers next to him. She hadn't realized how late it really was, stretching her body out. She felt John turn around and his hands run up and down her back.
