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“God fucking dammit!” John yelled at the lineup of cars in front of him. He never usually caught all of this traffic on his way to the studio because he was usually there earlier than the others. But today, his alarm clock had run out of batteries, because what else would it do?
And in his hurry to get out the door on time, he had completely forgotten to use the toilet, which was not great in his case, considering this traffic was unreal. He honked the horn, but it didn’t change anything.
He huffed as he felt his bladder only get heavier as he sat there for another ten minutes. He squirmed around, and since nobody could see him, he grabbed himself, too, desperate enough that it was necessary to keep his pride.
He checked the clock almost every minute, getting frustrated when the minutes were passing by faster than the metres he’d driven. He wanted so badly to get out of the car and just piss, but he was John Lennon, and he couldn’t risk anybody getting a picture of him taking a leak outside his car. Not only was it illegal, but it was embarrassing, too.
So he continued to rock back and forth in his seat, holding on for dear life, despite the terrible pain in his abdomen. And apparently, he’d forgotten to pay attention to the road. A horn honked behind him, and he jumped, a little bit of pee escaping.
“Shit!” he cursed, moving up the two metres the person behind him was so pissed off about. He looked down at his pants and saw just the tiniest wet spot, causing him to gasp. “I am not about to piss myself,” he said as his breathing sped up. And then his bladder contracted, and he squeezed his thighs together in surprise.
“No, nonono…” Another longer leak made his damp underpants wet, and his eyes widened. The wet spot near the zipper on his pants had increased significantly, and he had to fight back tears.
“This is not happening,” he said to himself, slamming his head down into the steering wheel, hitting the horn. It caused all the other cars around him to start honking their horns at him, too, and the noise distracted him just long enough for piss to start flying out of him. He tried his hardest to stop it, but it only hurt worse, so he finally let go.
Piss soaked his entire seat in seconds, pooling under his ass and dripping onto the floor. He cringed at the horrible smell that now filled the car, but as he emptied his bladder on the seat, he couldn’t find it in himself to realise what was happening. He was just so overcome with relief.
Until it dawned on him: he just pissed himself. And he was just a few blocks from the studio at this point. He groaned, now very much angry with himself as he continued driving to the studio, parking right outside, but he refused to get out and go inside.
He sat there for maybe ten minutes before he noticed Brian walking towards his car. He tried to start it and drive away, but his hand was far too shaky. Brian knocked on the window, and he rolled it down.
“Y-yes?”
“You’re usually here earlier, Lennon. I’m surprised you’re here so late…”
“Well…”
“What’s that smell?” John swore at that very moment, his heart stopped.
“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Brian started to sniff the air, sticking his head in John’s car and looking around inside, trying to find the source of it. “It smells like…” Then he saw John’s pants. “... piss.” John’s breath hitched in his throat. “What the hell?”
“I woke up late and forgot to go, and I got stuck in bloody traffic, okay? Just fuck off.”
Brian threw his arms up in surrender. “Alright, I won’t say a word. Were you planning on coming inside or…?”
“Haha. You’re fucking hilarious. No, I’m not coming in. I’m going home. I’ve got to clean this up.”
Brian nodded in agreement. “Will you be back?” John only stared at him for a few seconds before the older man raised his eyebrows in question.
“Fine. I’ll be back. But, erm… please don’t tell anybody what happened, okay?”
“I won’t, John.”
“Pinky promise?” John asked, batting his eyelashes.
Brian rolled his eyes before he answered. “Pinky promise.”
“I’ll be back soon. Make something up for why I’m gone, will you?” Brian nodded, and John drove off.
-
When he was back, the other three came at him fast, bombarding him with questions.
“Are you okay, John?”
“What are you doing here?”
“If you feel sick, you should go home, Johnny.”
John tried to push them off of him. “I don’t know what any of you are bloody talking about.” He huffed, crossing his arms at their lack of personal space, and Paul spoke softly.
“Brian said you’d been sick in your car and had to go home.”
John blushed and looked over at Brian, who was smiling wildly.