Chapter Text
John Lennon slowly opened his eyes. His head hurt and he felt confused, when had he gone to sleep? His eyes struggled to take in his surroundings but found comfort in the apparently white ceiling, he was home. But then, why did the bed feel so unfamiliar? It was harder than his own. Christ, he felt sore and tired. He didn’t remember having sex the night before, in fact he didn’t remember anything about the night before. He remembered being at the studio, heading back to the Dakota...then? It all went blurry. Gingerly, he forced himself to sit up and was struck with a wave of pain. John couldn’t help but cry out.
Quickly, a gentle but firm hand appeared and pushed him back down, “Easy there, John. You need to rest.” A familiar voice told him, he sounded tired as well.
“Paul? John breathed, his eyes watering at the stab of pain.
His old friend smiled softly, “Yes, it’s me.”
John blinked repeatedly, “What...what are you doing here? Where am I?” He couldn’t be at the Dakota, his brief look at the room had told him that.
His ex-partner hesitated, “..You’re in a hospital, John.”
John frowned, “What?” Shit, had they had a car accident?
Paul moved as if to grab his hand but stopped himself, his voice was wavering as he spoke, “You were shot.” He forced out.
“Wha- Argh !” Again, John had tried to sit up at the news. Well, that explained the pain then.
Paul sighed and pushed him back down, “What did I tell you?” He said in a long forgotten mother hen voice, “You’ve got to stay down, doctor’s orders.”
John shook his head, “I,I don’t remember anything.” Then it hit him, “Yoko! Is she okay?”
Paul looked down, “...yes, she wasn’t injured.”
John narrowed his eyes, Paul’s tone was off. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Paul rubbed his eyes, “I hadn’t gotten here yet, but apparently she was in hysterics. The nurses tried to calm her down, they figured she was on something, but she left.” He cleared his throat, “I should go call her-”
“No!” John was quick to grab his wrist, but then let it go in embarrassment. “I, I don’t want to be alone.” He hated hospitals, he hated being surrounded by condescending people in uniform, and he felt worse for not remembering the incident that had gotten him there in the first place.
Paul turned back around, secretly relieved, “Okay.”
John cleared his throat, “And Sean?” His son had to be okay, he wasn’t out with them.
Paul smiled, “He came to see you with his nan. I, uh, think he’s sleeping right now in another room.” He chuckled, “Refused to leave, he did.” Then in a more serious tone said, “And, er, Julian called. We called Cynthia but he heard the news over the radio.”
John closed his eyes, poor Julian.
Paul continued, “He want to see if he can come visit you.”
John gasped and did not hesitate to say, “Oh, I’d love that!” In recent years he’d written more to his older son, even if it was still awkward. He was happy that Julian wanted to see him.
Paul smiled, happy that John had said that. He kept going, “Ringo was the first one here, came straight from the Bahamas. He was the one that took Yoko home.” He laughed quietly, “He might have gone to catch some sleep too, we’ve been awake for days.” Almost three days in his case, he was living off coffee and stress.
John’s smile was soft, “You stayed.” He didn’t ask, he knew the answer.
Paul blushed, “I, uh, couldn’t leave.” He coughed, “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” The nurses had put up fight but Paul had charmingly told them to get lost.
John felt himself growing warm with affection, “Thank you, Macca.” He said. Then, “Still, you look like shit.”
Paul gave a genuine laugh at that, god he’d missed John. He didn’t know what he would have done if… “Says the one in the hospital bed.” He retorted in the same teasing tone.
John hummed, “Come on.” He gestured to himself with his left arm because it hurt to move the right one.
Paul tilted his head, “What?”
His friend sighed, “Come ‘ere, you look like you need it.”
Understanding, Paul shook his head. “John, don’t be ridiculous.” It had been years since they’re shared a bed, in any way. Over a decade, a heavy decade that weighted down in both their minds.
John groaned, “Oh, don’t be like that! It’s not like this is the first time.” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive way.
Paul blushed but said nothing.
John rolled his eyes, “I can see you about to yawn- yeah, you see?” He pointed to the yawning ex-beatle, “Come on.”
Paul had to admit the bed did look tempting, but still, “Anyone could walk in.”
John stared him down, “Macca, please .” He widened in eyes in a pleading gesture. He wasn’t sure why he so desperately wanted Paul to lie with him, but he needed it, needed it now.
Paul let out a defeated sigh, “Alright, you soft lad.” The name was said fondly, however. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, and laid down next to his old friend. In seconds, he was asleep and clutching one of the pillows.
John chuckled, nearly forty and yet still adorable. He leaned over the small space and deposited a gentle kiss on Paul’s forehead, then closed his own eyes and ‘snuggled’ (John Lennon did not snuggle. Nope. Naaah.) close to the younger man. He fell into sleep, not imagining what would greet him there.