Beatles of the Avian Variety Chapter Two
ffff, was procrastinating on this :P
Title: Beatles of the Avian Variety
Author(s): Me, windywisp
Pairing: John/Paul, George/Ringo
Rating: PG-13, for the time being
Warnings: George/Ringo and John/Paul fluffiness later, some angst, blood, scifi-ish stuff
Summary: When the Fab Four eat a strange bird for dinner one night some strange side effects, occur
Author Notes: Longer this time c:
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and never happened, and probably couldn't happen anyway.
John had been awoken by Paul getting out of bed. He heard the door click shut, and turned over, yawning.
If Paul was an early bird, than John was the exact opposite. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to fall back to sleep. He felt strangely uncomfortable, but ignored it.
That's when he heard someone scream.
"Paul?"
John tumbled out of bed, and fell on his face. Paul's shriek was still ringing in his ears as he scrambled up and headed for
the bathroom.
"Paul!?"
He sprinted down the hallway, and realized the bathroom light was on. Paul must be in there.
He opened the door, and something fluffy and white hit him in the face. He tried to push it out of the way, and Paul yelped,"Ouch!"
He stared at Paul's reflection in the mirror in amazement.
"..'the hell is this, Paul?"
Paul seemed to have sprouted a pair of pure white wings. They were soft and fluffy, and brushed against John's face softly. John stared at him with his mouth open. With his gorgeous eyes, round cheeks, and innocent look, he almost looked like an angel, a real saint.
"J-John?" Paul said, looking in the mirror, eyes wide with fear."W-where did these come from?"
"I don't know, Paul. I just...wow."
"Wow?" Paul said, turning and looking at John with an eyebrow raised. "Oh..Well I don't know, you look kind of like an angel, if you know what I
mean." John said, still soaking in Paul's strange aura.
"Maybe we should go wake up George and Ringo, before you start becoming my own personal narcissist," Paul said, smiling. John grinned.
-------------------------
George and Ringo were fast asleep, having stayed up late together. Ringo, unable to sleep due to a scary movie, had stayed up and
talked to George the entire night. Because of this, George couldn't sleep either.
They'd fallen alseep at four in the morning, and were not very happy to be woke up by their two bandmates.
"'mmphh....goaway..." George muttered, pressing his face into the pillow.
"George! It's really important!" Paul pleaded.
"itc'nwait..can't it..?"
Ringo yawned beside him. "What's goin' on?" he asked, looking up. Then he got a load of Paul.
"Whoa Paul...where'd you get 'em..?"
"getwha-" George lifted his head a little. Spotting Paul and his wings, he stared and stared, raising himself up.
"Who...are YOU?"
"'s me, Paul!"
"Liar, liar, pants on fire..." George muttered.
"No, I'm serious, George! I just woke up this morning, and I had wings." George looked at him in suspicion. "An' you're sure you're not
Jesus?"
"Uhm..yeah."
"Tha's fuckin' weird," George muttered, head sinking back into his pillow.
Ringo rolled out of bed, and stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower," he announced to absolutley no one. Paul looked at his two other bandmates
in bewilderment. "None of you two care that I've suddenly sprouted wings?!" Ringo passed him, shrugging. "We do, Paul, it's just that we're tired,"
"I wish I had wings," George mumbled.
"Aww, ignore 'em, Paul," John said. "George wouldn't get out of bed if the fuckin' hotel was on fire..."
Paul folded his wings up in frustration.
--------------------------
Ringo shed his shirt and boxers. He stepped into the shower, and he stood up on tippy-toes and turned on the water. Ringo looked down at his feet, letting the water soak his hair and the rest of his body. 'That feels good' he thought as the warm water slid down his chest and back. He turned off the water and picked up the sponge and some bar soap. He started scrubbing his chest and stomach and reached behind his head to take care of his back. Something sopping wet stopped his hand.
Ringo felt the wet mass of whatever it was. He hopped out of the bathtub and checked himself out in the mirror.
"OhGodwhatisthat," Ringo said, turning around and inspecting his soaking wet feathers with wide eyes.
Ringo wound a towel around his waist and ran out of the bathroom, peeking into the parlor, where Paul, John, and a half-asleep George were eating breakfast. "Uhh..George? Paul?"
George didn't look up from his bacon and eggs. "Hmm?"
"Look! How am I supposed to take a shower with these!?"
Paul stood up so fast, he almost knocked over his chair. "You have them too!?" Paul exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything?" "I didn't know then..John! George! Check, check if you have wings too!" "What?" John said."But I didn't notice anything.." George grunted in agreement.
"Just check," Paul retorted. "It'll only take you a bloody second."
"Fine," John said. "Fine if it'll make you happy.."
George grunted again.
Neither bothered to take off their shirts. The wings they thought didn't exist ripped two small holes in their shirts and unfurled, spread out wide, filling the whole parlor.
"See I told you we didn-HOLY FUCK!" John yelled, looking behind him, and seeing dark red feathers poking out of his back.
"Look, John," Paul joked, grinning. "I'm the angel, and you're the devil," George woke up a little bit more, watching as Ringo went over and fluffed his feather experimently.
"This is a dream, i know it," John muttered, staring at the wings that had sprouted of his back. "Where did they come from!?" "Well, let's think about about what we did last night... Paul answered. "Played guitar, watched televison, ate strange bird.."
"We ATE a girl!?" George exclaimed, eyes wide.
"George, wake up already! Remember that turk-chick-duck-whatever it was thing we ate!"
"Oh..oh yeah.." George sighed.
"I knew there was something strange about it!" Paul said. "I knew we shouldn't have eaten it!" "Wings! What's next? A beak and tailfeathers!?" Ringo complained.
"We have to tell someone about this," George said. "Brian won't be here for a while, though," Paul mused. "What should we do...John, what are you doing..?"
John was pacing the parlor, his hand running through his hair. "We can move these wings...they..function and are able to fold, you know?" he said, spreading his wings and flapping them experimentally. He looked over at the other Beatles who were watching him with slightly confused looks on their faces. "You know that birds fly right? Well, maybe...just maybe..." He ventured over to the open window.
"John," Paul said, eyes wide. "John, what are you doing-"
"I'm gonna fly, Paul!" He answered, one bare foot one the windowsill.
"John! Don't do it!"
But John had already jumped.
Title: Beatles of the Avian Variety
Author(s): Me, windywisp
Pairing: John/Paul, George/Ringo
Rating: PG-13, for the time being
Warnings: George/Ringo and John/Paul fluffiness later, some angst, blood, scifi-ish stuff
Summary: When the Fab Four eat a strange bird for dinner one night some strange side effects, occur
Author Notes: Longer this time c:
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and never happened, and probably couldn't happen anyway.
John had been awoken by Paul getting out of bed. He heard the door click shut, and turned over, yawning.
If Paul was an early bird, than John was the exact opposite. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to fall back to sleep. He felt strangely uncomfortable, but ignored it.
That's when he heard someone scream.
"Paul?"
John tumbled out of bed, and fell on his face. Paul's shriek was still ringing in his ears as he scrambled up and headed for
the bathroom.
"Paul!?"
He sprinted down the hallway, and realized the bathroom light was on. Paul must be in there.
He opened the door, and something fluffy and white hit him in the face. He tried to push it out of the way, and Paul yelped,"Ouch!"
He stared at Paul's reflection in the mirror in amazement.
"..'the hell is this, Paul?"
Paul seemed to have sprouted a pair of pure white wings. They were soft and fluffy, and brushed against John's face softly. John stared at him with his mouth open. With his gorgeous eyes, round cheeks, and innocent look, he almost looked like an angel, a real saint.
"J-John?" Paul said, looking in the mirror, eyes wide with fear."W-where did these come from?"
"I don't know, Paul. I just...wow."
"Wow?" Paul said, turning and looking at John with an eyebrow raised. "Oh..Well I don't know, you look kind of like an angel, if you know what I
mean." John said, still soaking in Paul's strange aura.
"Maybe we should go wake up George and Ringo, before you start becoming my own personal narcissist," Paul said, smiling. John grinned.
-------------------------
George and Ringo were fast asleep, having stayed up late together. Ringo, unable to sleep due to a scary movie, had stayed up and
talked to George the entire night. Because of this, George couldn't sleep either.
They'd fallen alseep at four in the morning, and were not very happy to be woke up by their two bandmates.
"'mmphh....goaway..." George muttered, pressing his face into the pillow.
"George! It's really important!" Paul pleaded.
"itc'nwait..can't it..?"
Ringo yawned beside him. "What's goin' on?" he asked, looking up. Then he got a load of Paul.
"Whoa Paul...where'd you get 'em..?"
"getwha-" George lifted his head a little. Spotting Paul and his wings, he stared and stared, raising himself up.
"Who...are YOU?"
"'s me, Paul!"
"Liar, liar, pants on fire..." George muttered.
"No, I'm serious, George! I just woke up this morning, and I had wings." George looked at him in suspicion. "An' you're sure you're not
Jesus?"
"Uhm..yeah."
"Tha's fuckin' weird," George muttered, head sinking back into his pillow.
Ringo rolled out of bed, and stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower," he announced to absolutley no one. Paul looked at his two other bandmates
in bewilderment. "None of you two care that I've suddenly sprouted wings?!" Ringo passed him, shrugging. "We do, Paul, it's just that we're tired,"
"I wish I had wings," George mumbled.
"Aww, ignore 'em, Paul," John said. "George wouldn't get out of bed if the fuckin' hotel was on fire..."
Paul folded his wings up in frustration.
--------------------------
Ringo shed his shirt and boxers. He stepped into the shower, and he stood up on tippy-toes and turned on the water. Ringo looked down at his feet, letting the water soak his hair and the rest of his body. 'That feels good' he thought as the warm water slid down his chest and back. He turned off the water and picked up the sponge and some bar soap. He started scrubbing his chest and stomach and reached behind his head to take care of his back. Something sopping wet stopped his hand.
Ringo felt the wet mass of whatever it was. He hopped out of the bathtub and checked himself out in the mirror.
"OhGodwhatisthat," Ringo said, turning around and inspecting his soaking wet feathers with wide eyes.
Ringo wound a towel around his waist and ran out of the bathroom, peeking into the parlor, where Paul, John, and a half-asleep George were eating breakfast. "Uhh..George? Paul?"
George didn't look up from his bacon and eggs. "Hmm?"
"Look! How am I supposed to take a shower with these!?"
Paul stood up so fast, he almost knocked over his chair. "You have them too!?" Paul exclaimed. "Why didn't you say anything?" "I didn't know then..John! George! Check, check if you have wings too!" "What?" John said."But I didn't notice anything.." George grunted in agreement.
"Just check," Paul retorted. "It'll only take you a bloody second."
"Fine," John said. "Fine if it'll make you happy.."
George grunted again.
Neither bothered to take off their shirts. The wings they thought didn't exist ripped two small holes in their shirts and unfurled, spread out wide, filling the whole parlor.
"See I told you we didn-HOLY FUCK!" John yelled, looking behind him, and seeing dark red feathers poking out of his back.
"Look, John," Paul joked, grinning. "I'm the angel, and you're the devil," George woke up a little bit more, watching as Ringo went over and fluffed his feather experimently.
"This is a dream, i know it," John muttered, staring at the wings that had sprouted of his back. "Where did they come from!?" "Well, let's think about about what we did last night... Paul answered. "Played guitar, watched televison, ate strange bird.."
"We ATE a girl!?" George exclaimed, eyes wide.
"George, wake up already! Remember that turk-chick-duck-whatever it was thing we ate!"
"Oh..oh yeah.." George sighed.
"I knew there was something strange about it!" Paul said. "I knew we shouldn't have eaten it!" "Wings! What's next? A beak and tailfeathers!?" Ringo complained.
"We have to tell someone about this," George said. "Brian won't be here for a while, though," Paul mused. "What should we do...John, what are you doing..?"
John was pacing the parlor, his hand running through his hair. "We can move these wings...they..function and are able to fold, you know?" he said, spreading his wings and flapping them experimentally. He looked over at the other Beatles who were watching him with slightly confused looks on their faces. "You know that birds fly right? Well, maybe...just maybe..." He ventured over to the open window.
"John," Paul said, eyes wide. "John, what are you doing-"
"I'm gonna fly, Paul!" He answered, one bare foot one the windowsill.
"John! Don't do it!"
But John had already jumped.