FicWad

John tapped the shutter’s string against the window. It was one of those rainy days where no one wanted to leave the house or do anything but sit around and read. Perhaps even make a cup of tea and cuddle next to the fire. John wished he could do those things, but he couldn’t. Instead, he and Paul had to finish writing their latest song before tomorrow, even though they just returned home from another exhausting, but somewhat enjoyable tour.
“I can’t believe Martin’s making us write another song at the last minute,” Paul complained, sitting at the desk across from John’s window seat. “We’ve been at this song all day, and nothing as much as a bloody chorus pops out of our heads.”
“He probably expects us to pop it out somewhere else,” John mumbled, smoking the last of his cigarette.
“At least I’m actually thinking of what to write. You’re just staring at that damn rain we’ve had since we got back.” Paul picked up a pen and wrote something down. He stopped, made a face at what he had just written, and crumbled up the paper.
“Well clearly, the ol’ tinker has a case of writer’s block,” John commented.
“Piss off,” Paul muttered, throwing the wadded paper in John’s direction. He took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. John stood up and threw away the wad and his cigarette remains.
“Look, we’ve been sitting around for God knows how long. Why don’t we take a break?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Paul said, blowing the smoke out of his mouth. “What should we do?”
“How ‘bout we go for a walk?”
“A what?”
“A walk.” Paul scrunched his nose.
“Out in the rain?”
“Why not?” John said, heading towards the coat rack. “It’s a beautiful day, and ye haven’t seen rain since before the tour.”
“But we’ll get soaked.”
“So what? It’s just a little rain. You won’t melt, Paul.” John grabbed his coat and put it on. “Besides, it’ll clear our heads a bit. It’s too stuffy in here to do that.” He tossed the other coat to Paul and grabbed the two umbrellas next to the door.
“Fine. But we have to be back in an hour.”
*****
They walked two blocks away from the studio, each carrying an umbrella. Paul tried to enjoy the time off they had, but was distracted from checking his watch several times and noting how much time they had left. John skipped ahead of Paul, splashing in puddles and sticking his tongue out to taste the rain.
“Y’know, you could get sick from swallowing that stuff,” Paul said, dodging a puddle that John had just jumped into.
“How do you know?” John asked, kicking another puddle.
“I think I read it in a book or something.”
“Yeah? What kind of book?”
“I don’t remember. A school book perhaps.” John jumped into a huge puddle ahead of them, splashing Paul in the process. Paul stopped to wipe the dirty water off his face.
“Was that really necessary, Lennon?” John gave Paul a toothy grin.
“Aw, lighten up, Macca. Nobody likes a sourpuss.”
“Yeah? Nobody likes getting soaking wet, either.”
“I don’t mind. It’s just water. It dries off, y’know.” Paul rolled his eyes.
“If you say so,” he snorted, continuing to follow John.
“Y’know what, Paulie?”
“What John?”
“I think we don’t need these,” he said, closing his umbrella.
“Why don’t we?”
“Why do we? Ever walk in the rain without a plastic mac? It feels good going down your back.”
“It does?”
“Mhm.” John took off his coat and flipped it over his shoulder. “You should try it.”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to get any more soaked than I already am.”
“Aw, c’mon. Live on the wild side for once. You said you’d walk in the rain with me. Now, do it.”
“Y’know, that’s not exactly what I meant—” John snatched Paul’s umbrella, causing Paul to lose his balance and fall to the ground.
“Y’can’t catch me!” John laughed, scampering off and closing the other umbrella. Paul stood up and watched his mate run off.
“I guess I have no other choice,” he said, dashing towards the older man.
They were headed for the park when John looked behind and stuck his tongue out at Paul.
“You can try all you want, son, but you’ll never catch me!” he taunted.
“Yeah? How much do ye wanna bet?” Paul finally chuckled.
“How ‘bout the loser has to finish the song an’ kiss the winner’s a—” but before John could finish, Paul tackled him. They fell into a mud puddle in the grass, laughing and catching their breath.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Paul chuckled.
“Yeah. You’re quite the road runner. For a moment, I thought you’d never catch me.” Paul pushed John into the mud.
“Silly sod,” he added.
“Well, I guess that means I’d better get on with that song,” John said, getting up. Paul followed him, brushing the mud off his clothes.
“Y’know, we don’t have to go if ye don’t want to.”
“Hasn’t it been an hour though?”
“Yeah, but I like this park. Why don’t we walk around some more an’ finish it later?”
“You sure?”
“I’ll help you with it if we stay.” John paused to think.
“All right, Macca. It’s a deal.” They shook hands and continued walking in the rain.