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“God, my head is killing me,” Paul whined as he sniffled.
“You just need to go take some medicine. You’ve been saying that for hours, Macca. I’ve got tylenol in the cabinet.”
“I don’t like taking medicine. You know that.” When Paul groaned again, John sighed.
“Paul McCartney! Just take some damn tylenol!” The younger man got up and started over to the medicine cabinet.
“Which one is it?” When the other three started to laugh at him, he blushed. “Nevermind. I’ll find it.” He dug around the cabinet, finding something and swallowing it.
“You sure that was it, Macca?”
“Yes,” Paul mumbled as he tried his best to screw the cap back on, but he was never good with that.
He wasn’t sure that was really the tylenol. He really didn’t know what it was, and he knew he should have just said that. But then John would probably tease him for taking something if he didn’t what it was.
“Well, if you say so.”
Paul made his way back over to the couch and sat back. For a few minutes, his headache didn’t go away, and he groaned again. “John, it’s not fucking working.”
“Good God, Paul,” George said with a chuckle. “It’s been like ten minutes. Give it some time.”
More time went by, and Paul was getting restless. His coughs were becoming more frequent, and he kept sneezing.
“I fucking hate being sick.” Paul coughed again and snuggled up into Ringo next to him, but the older man pushed him off.
“I’ll be right back, Paul. Give me a second.” He got up and headed out of the room, and Paul fell onto the couch.
“Ughhh, come back, Ringo!” Ringo laughed as he continued to walk away, and when he was gone, George looked over at a sulking Paul.
“Don’t look so sad, Paul. We all know he just has a tiny bladder. He’ll be back.”
And Ringo was, in fact, back before they even knew it. He sat back down on the couch, and Paul snuggled up close to him again. He coughed, but Ringo didn’t seem to mind as they both continued watching the news.
Paul started to squirm around after not too long, and Ringo looked down at him just as he grabbed at his crotch. “Paul, do you need a piss?”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m fine. It hasn’t even been that long since I went.”
“Why don’t you just go real quick? I’ll still be here when you’re back, Paul.” When Paul refused to get up, Ringo glanced over at George and John, who just shrugged.
Paul got closer, almost in Ringo’s lap, and he sat there with a smile on his face as Ringo started to pet his hair.
Well, it was peaceful until he sneezed and…
“Shit!” Paul cursed, freezing in place where he sat on top of Ringo. Piss was flying out of him so fast, and he didn’t know what to do.
Ringo’s eyes widened as soon as he felt it, and he looked at his other two friends, but they were both staring at Paul’s crotch, which was growing more and more wet.
There was no way Ringo wasn’t already soaked after a minute when Paul had finished. The younger man only covered his face. He didn’t have the energy at that moment to get up and go to the toilet.
“Paul…” Ringo started slowly, and Paul only shook his head. “Hey, it’s okay, Paul. Why don’t we--”
“It’s not fucking okay! It’s not…” He sobbed. “I didn’t even have to go that bad, what the hell happened?”
Ringo stood up, carrying Paul, and started heading to the toilet, but Paul pushed away from him. Ringo put him down, and he ran out of the room crying.
“What the hell?” George said as he stood up. “Did he really just piss himself because he sneezed?”
“I… yeah, he did,” Ringo said as he stared down that hall, completely confused.
“He’s become you,” John said as he started on his way into the kitchen to get something to clean the couch.
“Would you lot leave me alone about it? You know it’s only because of my medicine.” Ringo pouted, but John stopped dead in his tracks.
“What did you say?”
“That you need to leave me alone!” Ringo yelled at him, crossing his arms.
“No, no, after that.” Ringo and George exchanged a strange glance. “Richie!”
“I said it’s because of my medicine. You know that.” John’s jaw dropped, and he ran to the medicine cabinet, finding the bottle of medicine with the cap not all the way on.
He turned around with it. “Is this your medicine?”
Ringo rolled his eyes. “Yes. Can you put it back now? What are you even doing with it?”
“The cap’s not all the way on.”
“What? Of course it is. I wouldn’t leave it off.”
Then George walked into the kitchen. “Richie, Paul doesn’t know how to put those child lock lids back on…”
Then realisation dawned on the drummer. “That means he… shit.” Ringo hurried off into the hall, knocking on the bathroom door. “Paul?”
“Go away, Rich. I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“I just need to--”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I mean, I didn’t even know I had to go that bad…”
“I know, Paul. Earlier, I think you took one of my pills.” It was silent for a while, and Ringo spoke again. “Paul?”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Look, just don’t worry about what happened, okay? It wasn’t your fault, and I know that for a fact.” Paul still said nothing. “Alright, well, we’re taking care of the couch. Just come on out when you’re all cleaned up, okay?”
Ringo left when Paul was once again silent, and the others looked down at his pants.
“I’ll take care of it,” he sighed. “I’ll let Paul wash up first, though. I feel bad. All he wanted was to get rid of a headache, and he didn’t even get that.”
George laughed. “Well, maybe one of us should have gotten the tylenol for him.”
“I’m the one who even told him to take anything. Now I feel horrible.” John kept his eyes on the ground as he went back to the couch with the cleaner.
“Hey, it’s nobody’s fault, okay? It just happened, and there was nothing we could’ve done about it.” They both nodded in agreement with Ringo.
“At least now we’ll have something to tell our kids about,” George said with a smile.
“You better not tell a soul,” John warned. “I doubt he wants anybody else to know.”
“Alright, fine. We won’t tell anybody.”
“Good.”