Help!

I Feel Fine

The second George woke up in the hotel bed, he noticed something was amiss. He turned on his side and groaned slightly. His throat ached terribly. Great... The last thing he needed on tour was a bloody cold. They had barely even started it too!

"Fuckin 'ell." He muttered, his grogginess causing his Scouse accent to be more profound.

"Georgie?" A voice made him jump. He'd forgotten John roomed with him. After George didn't answer, John groaned and rolled out of bed. "Urgh, we really should get up, Eppy said we had a press conference at eight. We 'ave about thirty minutes."

"Yes Johnny." George said, wincing as his throat burned. For a second he was tempted to tell John about his ailment, however small it was. Perhaps he could have some cold medicine or something. But then he remembered that it was just a cold, after all, and if he wanted cold medicine he could get it himself. "Y'can take a shower now if y'wish."

"No thanks, I took one last night." John ruffled his hair and put his suit on. "Up and at 'em Geo, we haven't all day."

"Don't y'worry about me, Lennon." George said somewhat mockingly. "That's Paul's job."

"Cheeky fucker." John shook his head. "I mean it George. Eppy wants us out there in ten, and ye've got t'eat still. Don't make me come over there."

"Don't bother yerself. I'm a grown man John." George hissed as his head ached when he arose from the bed and went into the washroom to wash his face. When he looked up, he sighed. Around his eyes dark bags loomed and his face was pale. He couldn't let people see him like this. However, the other lads were waiting on him, and he couldn't just bail on the press and the fans. It was for this reason that he used extra cold water to shock himself awake.

After he washed his face, he looked a little better, and he was ravenous. He headed back into the bedroom to find that John had left. Probably to eat with the others. Quickly pulling on his suit, he gasped as sudden head rush decided to descend upon his very being.

"Pull yer shit together Harri." He muttered, and rushed out to where room service had provided them with a delicious breakfast. The other boys were already there picking over the banquet. They greeted him and he nodded tiredly. Grabbing a plate, he piled the food onto it eagerly. He wasn't known as the hungry Beatle for nothing, was he now? While shoving his face, he heard John speak to Paul worriedly.

"Geo seemed a bit knackered when he awoke. I'd keep an eye on 'im."

"Bloody fucking hell!" George exclaimed, ignoring the shocked looks from Ringo and Mal at the profanity. "I told y'I was fine y'bastard! I meant it. Leave me 'ealth alone y'bugger." As he shouted, Paul seemed to be evaluating him.

"The lad seems alright t'me, Johnny." He finally admitted, his face apologetic. "I agree with 'im, stop buggin 'im."

"Sozz Joj." Not missing a beat after George's outburst, John smirked. "But y'don't see t'be missing much on the table. 'Ere, y'want mine as well?"

"Yeah, y'seem t'be quite hungry today lad." Ringo laughed, his deep voice rich and humorous. "Am I going t'have enough fer seconds?"

"Not if y'don't shut yer trap and take some." George rasped. Oh no...he thought. Now they would ask him questions not worth asking and worry over a slight cold.

"Georgie? Is yer throat a little dry? Must be the lack of humidity in America. It feels drier 'ere already, I swear." Paul hurried off to get some water, ever vigilant.

"Does 'e ever stop?" Ringo wondered aloud, trying to keep his eyes off of George. The lad was still eating like the apocalypse was tomorrow, but his eyes were tired and had dark bags underneath, indicating sleeplessness.. He agreed with John on this, George did appear a little tired. And the raspy sound that was his voice from earlier...stop it. Ringo scolded himself. He couldn't let his worries fly off into the stratosphere. George hated having people worry about him, and he hated even more when people tried to take care of him. Despite all this, Ringo had his suspicions. He was no doctor, but Ringo had a keen eye for illness, having spent most of his childhood in a hospital, and he knew that no matter how many times one tried to cover up an illness, it never went away.

"George, are y'sure ye're alright?" He asked gently, earning himself a snort from George and a glare from John. "No, it's just that y'look right ready for a kip and ye've only just woken up. Calm down mate."

"Alright, maybe I am a little sick, Rings." George admitted with a sigh. "But it's just  a little cold. Nothin t'worry yerselves about. And no one is to tell Brian. The last thing we need is fer 'im t'waste time and money t'send fer a doctor."

"Oh, alrighty Georgie. I'll just send Paul fer some cold medicine." Ringo opened his mouth to call Paul in, but George interrupted him.

"I can get it meself. Really, I'm alright. Don't worry bout me lads." He turned back to his mountain of breakfast. Well at least he's eatin. Ringo thought.

"'Ow come when Ritchie asks ye what's wrong y'answer 'im, But when I so much as open me trap about it, yer all over me arse about it?" John said vehemently. "S'not fair, yer clearly favoring Ringo."

"No, I'm just not favoring ye, Johnny." George shook his head with a smile. "And 'e asked me, y'just went behind me back with Paul. Next time jus' come t'me about it, and don't bother me."

"That could make a good song y'know..." John walked off, muttering to himself, only to return a few seconds later as Eppy arrived with Paul in tow.

"'Ere's yer water Geo." He placed it by the lead guitarist's plate. "Don't take such big mouthfuls, son. Y'don't want t'choke."

"I 'aven't yet, Paul."

"I know."

Brian watched his boys with humour, but then ushered them out after George was finished. "Alright boys, it's going to be a big day, so I hope you slept well."

George sighed. It was going to be a long day.