Love, Love Me Do (Beatles story)

Chapter Fourteen -Snot's Up

~John’s P.O.V~

About a week after George had taken Charlene to meet his mum and dad, things had pretty much returned to normal, there were still fans staking out the apartment in the hopes of meeting the band, but that wasn’t anything unusual. The high level of hate Char had been receiving had finally died down, sure she still got the occasional wacky fan girl that wanted her out of the picture, but that couldn’t be helped. All in all, everyone’s stress levels had died down quite a bit. We were practically worry free, well, unless you counted Charlene (there was simply no nice way of putting it, but the girl was paranoid, but I valued my face too much to tell her or George that), but who was counting?

One morning, Ringo, Paul and I were gathered in the sitting room, gossiping –er, I mean, discussing, men don’t gossip–about Charlene and George who had yet to join us. Ringo, Paul and I had been eavesdropping outside of their door, George had been snoring and Charlene had been trying to wake him up.

George had a slight cold, so his snoring had increased, I was just glad Ringo wasn’t the one with the snotty nose or there’d be no sleep for anyone.

“Hey, guys,” Charlene chirped, skipping into the room, with  a smile etched upon her face.

Hmm, someone was in a good mood.

“Hullo, love, George,” we all simultaneously greeted, as George trailed in behind her.

I winced as I took in the sight of George, his hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes watery and sleepy, skin pale, cheeks flushed pink and he was snuffling obnoxiously, emitting the occasional cough. He didn’t look well, no he didn’t look well at all.

George didn’t reply, he didn’t acknowledge us at all, he just sat down beside his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest, resting his head on hers and closing his eyes.

He just ignored us. Stupid sick boy. If it was some other bird, and not Charlene, his futuristic, violent, paranoid girlfriend, I’d of teased him about the constant cuddling –which he normally insinuated–, I’d of teased him, but being the good friend that I was, I kept my trap firmly shut.

“So, what’s up?” Charlene piped up.

“Nothing,” Paul shrugged, sipping from the tea cup on the coffee table in front of him.

“What’s got you all happy this morning, Char?” Ringo questioned, wriggling his brows, but compared to George’s eyebrow waggle, Ring’ was an epic fail.

George was the master eyebrow wriggler. Char’s words, not mine.

“More like, what has you in such a foul mood this morning?” I smirked, nudging George in the side with my elbow.

George lifted his head up to glare darkly at me, he opened his mouth to reply, but instead he let out a loud, violent sneeze.

No one spoke for a moment, silence descended upon all of us as I blinked my eyes disbelievingly, suddenly wishing that it was Ringo that was sick. George had sneezed directly in my face, judging by the amount of snot that was coating my face, it would’ve made a lot more sense if his noggin was bigger than Ringo’s.

Charlene broke the silence by giggling loudly. “You can’t say didn’t deserve that one. Payback for all the perverted comments.”

I was going to kill George.

By the time I had snapped out of my shock, George had already fled the room, coughing and wheezing as he went.

“George,” I roared, jumping to my feet and chasing after him. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”