Chapter Text
"Thank you for havin' us over, Mrs. Harrison." Paul says with a grin as he leads John and Ringo into the house. "We promise we'll be quiet rehearsin'."
"Not sure about that one." John comments, taking off his shoes and coat.
"George is home, right?" Ringo asks to confirm.
"He is, I heard him tuning just now." Mrs. Harrison confirms, "A cuppa, boys?"
The boys cheer, setting up their things to begin rehearsal.
Meanwhile, George is still in his room, deciding it was time to change from pyjamas to home clothes, as he was already late to an event set in his own damn home. He sighs, standing up. He does so quickly, causing him to have to grab onto the side of his desk, dizzy. Suddenly, he faints, hitting the floor with a hard thud.
The boys jump, looking towards the source of the sound.
"Is he okay?" John frowns.
"Surely..." Paul mumbles, "We should check on him."
Paul stands up, leading the rest upstairs and to George's room. They gently open the door.
"Meow," comes a noise.
The boys freeze, looking around. Ringo only looks down when he feels a paw press against his leg, finding a cat, pure black, eyes equally as brown as George's.
"Where is he?" Paul complains.
"And since when does he have a cat?" Ringo asks.
They all look at the cat, confused.
"I guess..." John starts, "We'll just 'ave to... rehearse without him."
The cat scratches John's leg, causing him to jump a bit.
"Stupid cat..." he sneers, following the others downstairs.
The cat follows them, confused.
"Meow." He sounds out.
"Is it hungry?" Paul asks, bass around his neck.
The cat simply jumps onto the couch, loafing and watching them. The boys share a glance, sighing before they'd begin. During their first song, Mrs. Harrison prepares to leave. It makes sense, she'd usually leave to visit nearby family-friends or run errands to give them privacy. They finish the song, watching the cat make odd pawing motions at George's guitar.
"Aight, boys. I'm headed out." Mrs. Harrison declares. "Any yous need anything from the shops?"
"No thank you, Mrs. Harrison." Paul smiles.
"Actually, I'd like a Dr. Pepper." John requests, handing the price to Mrs. Harrison like a proper gent.
"And some cat food, apparently." Ringo mentions.
Mrs. Harrison stops in her tracks, noticing the cat as it stares right back at her.
"Lord, did a stray get in?" She worries. "Don't worry, boys, I'll get it out."
The boys raise their eyebrows as they see Mrs. Harrison grab a broom and usher the creature out. It doesn't fight back at first, but just... looks on... all sad and wet.
As she sweeps the creature to the open front door, he begins to meow and fight back frantically, but it doesn't work, as with one final swoop, he is out on the front patio. Mrs. Harrison puts the broom aside and steps out, closing the door before the cat could come back inside.
"Apparently, they don't have a cat." Ringo processes.
"I feel bad." Paul hums, "And I don't even like cats."
"How?" John nitpicks. "They're adorable."
Paul shrugs. "Dogs are better, they're loyal at least."
Ringo hums a "Yeah."
The cat soon begins to frantically scratch and meow at the door, interrupting the intro of their next song.
They stop playing, simply sharing all-knowing glances - they all want to let the cat back in, but neither of them wants to be the one to open the door. Eventually, Paul sighs and places his bass down, opening the door.
As soon as he does, the cat bolts back inside the house, frantically doing circles around the living room.
"Bad idea." John realises.
"Told you dogs are better." Paul groans, grabbing the broom and hitting the creature over the head.
He hisses in response, but stops running around at least.
Ringo sighs. "What do we do with it?"
John shrugs, "If it wants to stay, it wants to stay."
The cat looks around, shaking with anxiety. He climbs onto the fireplace, pawing a framed family photo, specifically George's deadpan expression.
"No no, kitty, no climbing." Paul scolds, grabbing him by the body and placing him onto his four feet onto the ground.
He lets out an irritated hiss before looking around again. Before the boys could process, he instead bolts into the kitchen.
"Hey!" Paul calls out as Ringo and John laugh at him trying to catch a cat.
Paul follows the cat into the kitchen, seeing it play with some alphabet fridge magnets.
"Don't touch those, you hear me?" He scolds, trying to take a letter G from the cat's mouth.
Instead, the cat bites his hand, hissing. By now, Ringo and John are in the doorway, almost pissing themselves laughing.
"Damn cat!" Paul raises his voice, "Not funny!"
The laughter dies down as Ringo's eyes widen.
"Cats can't spell..." He points out, watching the cat... start spelling out a legible sentence using fridge magnets?
"I... am..." Paul reads, frowning, unsure how to react.
The cat finishes spelling out his message, going up to John and Ringo, and gently biting both their pant-legs to guide them to the text.
The text says:
I AM GEORGE
"Fuckin' 'ell..." John reacts.
They all stare, as the cat stares back. Paul reluctantly crouches down.
"You are George..?" He softly asks.
The cat nods.
"What..?" Ringo reacts.
The cat - George -, finally satisfied with having been able to express himself, simply walks back into the living room, leaving the others flabbergasted.
"What the fuck do we do now?" Paul is first to speak. "Our guitarist is a fuckin' cat!"
"Well, 't least he doesn't have to be housebroken." John jokes.
"Seriously." Paul replies. "How did that even happen? How do we undo it?"
They all stare at each other. Eventually, George's meowing can be heard, but this time, it was more like a low, drawn-out yowl, akin to a cry.
"We should... take care of 'im and figure out the rest later." Paul sighs, resigned.
They head back inside, finding no trace of the cat. They look around, searching every blade of metaphorical grass, only for Ringo to spot the crying feline under the couch, in the corner. He buckles down and reaches under the couch, only to be hissed at.
"George... Buddy..." Ringo softly says, pulling his hand away slightly. "It's okay, it's just me..."
George slowly eases, crawling out. Despite cats not usually being able to shed emotional tears, this cat's eyes were watery.
"Aww, Georgie..." Paul immediately coos, crouching down to pat his head.
George immediately hisses at them, simply walking back into the kitchen.
The boys, confused, simply sit down on the couch, processing.
"You don't actually believe that cat is George, do you?" John asks.
"He told us himself." Paul reasons.
"...Right." John reacts, then stands up. "Well, I'm runnin' to the store. Hazza's mum said she was going to visit family, so I'm probably not getting my Dr. Pepper."
Paul nods. "Right. Get me a coke too, will ya?"
"And me an apple juice." Ringo asks.
"Right." He reacts, kicking his shoes on. "Appy juice for Ringo."
Ringo gives him a look. John laughs, then leaves. Paul begins to fidget, restless, eventually standing up.
"What's that damn cat doing?" He asks, heading to the kitchen.
Ringo, sharing his worry, follows.
As they enter the kitchen, they see the previous fridge magnet text garbled from the cat's prowling, now reading:
A R E
I W G O
E G
They also see George gnawing on a piece of bread.
"Aww, he must be hungry." Ringo reacts, immediately grabbing a bowl from the pantry and looking through the fridge.
He sees a container with "GEORGE" written on it with aggressive marker strokes, taking it out. It was leftover Sunday roast. George meows, pawing his leg.
He dumps the roast into the bowl, placing it down and seeing George immediately dig in.
"Aww," Paul mirrors his reaction, which is when George momentarily stops eating to scratch his leg. "OW! Bad kitty!"
George hisses and resumes eating. The two men sigh, a moment of realisation almost teasing and taunting them on the fact their guitarist had mysteriously turned into a cat. George finishes eating, simply walking back to the living room. The boys follow him, taking a seat with a sigh.
"This is our life now." Paul sighs out, elbows balanced on knees. "Our guitarist is a fucking cat."
George hops up onto the couch and lays down into Ringo's lap. He curls up and begins purring as Ringo reflexively palms his side, as if halfway between trying to grab him and put him on the floor. He doesn't grab, but keeps his palm there. The purring gets stronger.
John comes back, passing out the drinks.
"Hey guys," He starts, "They only had Pepsi."
Paul presses his lips together, accepting the drink anyway. Ringo opens his apple juice - in a kid's box, not what he wanted but will accept -, as John sits next to him.
"Ooh, he picked you, huh?" John remarks.
George hisses, but continues nesting and purring anyway.
"Lemme check summat." John says, lifting the cat's head to face him.
George stares, confused, feeling John's fingers pry open his lips.
"Cats have shorter upper canines, don't they?" He smirks. "Okay, now I'm convinced. This is George."
George hisses, biting him hard. It's surprising he doesn't break his skin with how hard he bit. He then bolts, running upstairs.
Paul clicks his tongue. "Aw, c'mon, John!" He scolds. "You know George gets miffy 'bout his teeth."
John shrugs, "Just 'ad to make sure it was really him."
Ringo, caught in the crossfire, just sighs. "I'll go look for him."
He gets up and makes his way upstairs.
"John," Paul starts. "You crossed a line with that one."
"Sorry." He simply says, sipping his Dr. Pepper awkwardly.
"George! Where are you!" Ringo calls out, only for the sound of a toilet flushing emit opposite from where Ringo was.
They watch with slight confusion and shock as George prances downstairs without Ringo noticing.
"Hey, buddy." Paul greets, a smile lighting up as he realises George is now in his lap. "You like me now, huh? Ya lil ankle-biter."
George squints at him, but Paul can't help mistaking the otherwise rude gesture for a cute one.
"He used the toilet..?" John frowns. "I can't tell who's going mad here."
Paul raises his eyebrows, "That's... actually quite impressive."
"No." John simply replies. "It's weird."
"It is, think about the logistics." Paul states.
"I don't think I want to." John protests.
George simply paws at the Pepsi bottle in his hands, showing his begging eyes.
"Can cats even have Pepsi?" Paul frowns at John.
John shrugs, "I dunno, but a George cat? Probably."
George would hiss, but he's busy trying to get Paul to lower his bottle. When he eventually does, he takes an oddly human-like sip of the drink. He then immediately gets off him.
"Aww." Paul reacts. "You only wanted the Pepsi?"
John laughs. "In ya face, Macca."
Ringo appears, "Guys, I lost him."
George paws his leg.
"Oh." Ringo reacts.
The guys laugh, only stopping when they see George attempting to climb on Ringo.
George manages to use his claws to climb the man, seemingly reaching for his shoulders. Ringo instinctively puts his hand under George to catch him in case he falls, which George uses to stand on with his hind-limbs and push himself further up. He wraps his fore-limbs softly around Ringo's neck, nuzzling his face against it.
"Is he..." Paul reacts.
"Trying to give me a hug, I think." Ringo confirms, using a single hand to hold his hind-limbs so that he can pat George's back with the other.
George starts purring.
"He never hugs me like that..." John remarks.
George hops off, landing on four feet, leaving.
"There he goes." Paul comments as Ringo just cracks a chuckle.
"Damn it, John." Ringo starts, sitting down again. "You ruined it."
"Right, I'm the fool who ruins everything." John rolls his eyes. "I got a solution, though."
John reaches into his pocket, taking out a baggie of cat treats.
"Hey Georgie! I got you snacks!" He yells towards the kitchen.
George peaks his head out instantly, reluctantly going up to him.
"Sit." John says, opening the baggie.
George blinks.
"Sit." John repeats.
George sits.
"Good boy." He praises, tossing him a treat.
"Seriously?" Paul groans.
"Roll over." John says, ignoring him.
"Meow." George replies.
"I said roll over, not speak." John teases.
George scratches John's leg.
"OW!" He exclaims. "Why you little-"
He sighs, putting the snacks away.
"Meow." George sounds out, pawing towards the snacks.
"Well, roll over then." John replies, somehow sensing what he must be trying to say.
George hisses.
"This is ridiculous." Paul stands up. "I'm having a cuppa."
He places the Pepsi onto the coffee table, heading to the kitchen.
"Aye." Ringo nods, placing his crushed up kiddie box next to it and following Paul.
John clicks his tongue at them, turning to George.
"I will teach you something cool." He threatens, taking out the baggie. "Roll over."
George simply stares.
John leans forward, dangling the baggy in front of his face.
"Roll~ o~ver~~~" he sing-songs.
George squints at him.
John groans, then leans back to sigh. George jumps onto the coffee table, almost falling from having underestimated the height, and takes a sip of the Pepsi - somehow without spilling it -, followed by him dragging the apple juice box onto the floor and playing with it.
"I'll listen to your song once this insanity is over." He quietly sing-songs again, causing George to freeze and look at him.
He eagerly rolls over, being thrown another treat.
"There we go, good kitty." John praises.
George freezes again, then pounces at him before bolting off into the kitchen.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen.
"I wonder how long George will be a cat for." Ringo says as he puts the water to boil. "Not forever, I hope."
Paul shrugs, "What are the chances he'd turn into a cat? You'd figure the same as him turning back."
Ringo shrugs back, "The former happened."
"Great point," Paul remarks, then goes back to looking through tea blends.
He grabs a minty smelling one, preparing two cups.
"Meow." George announces his presence.
"Oh hello there, little Georgie," Paul greets, crouching down to pat his head, tea blend still in his arm.
He climbs onto Paul's leg, reaching his head into the tea blend. Paul grabs him by the side, pulling him out.
"Oh no no no, that's not for you, kitty." Paul scolds, followed by an angry scowl by George, "I mean, George."
"Meow." He shows his begging eyes.
Paul contemplates, sighing before grabbing a pinch.
"Fine, have some." He remarks, petty. "I'm not brewin' an extra, take it or leave it."
He drops the pinch onto the floor and gets back to preparing the two cuppas. George sniffs the blend, curious. He begins to trip the fuck out, as if he'd been handed straight crack.
"What?" Paul frowns, watching George frantically roll around on the floor.
He brushes the leaves everywhere, along with the fridge magnets nobody bothered to pick up, causing them to get scattered. He scatters them so bad, I can't even fit it into one blockquote. It literally spans across multiple paragraphs.
A R
"What's wrong with him?" Ringo asks, confused.
I E
Paul shrugs, taking a sip of his cuppa as John investigates the noise.
W O
"Fuckin' 'ell." John laughs out loud, watching George desperately rolling on the floor.
E G G
"I think Georgie likes this blend of tea a little too much." Paul laughs back.
Ringo's eyes light up with a realisation, turning to Paul.
"What does it say on the tin?" Ringo asks, "Like, what blend is it..?"
Paul freezes slightly, slowly grabbing the blend tin.
"Mint blend, calming, for nighttime." He reads aloud.
"Mint." Ringo repeats, thinking. He eventually sighs, shutting his eyes. "Could it possibly have catnip in it?"
Paul frowns. "Why would it?"
"Catnip is a variant of mint." Ringo reveals.
Both Paul and John look in front of themselves, realising.
"That may be it." Paul hums.
"Give 'im some more," John laughs. "He's starting to run out."
Paul clicks his tongue. "Cats are temporarily immune to catnip after the effects wear off, ya daft."
"Aww." John reacts. "But it's so funny, it's like him throwing up in Hamburg all over again."
Just as they'd begin to reminisce about the lost 5th member of the Beatles, "The Thing", George cuts them all off with a vicious scratch against John's shin.
"Ow!" John reacts. "Okay, I earned that."
"Smartest thing you said so far." Paul murmurs under his breath, to which Ringo laughs.
They finish the cuppas, realising they barely rehearsed all day. They decide with a heavy sigh to rehearse some more, given that messing with cat George won't get them ready for the next big gig.
They rehearse like normal, with George seated in Ringo's lap, staring at his playing of the drums. Just as they'd begin playing their last song a second time, Mrs. Harrison comes back.
"Hello, boys." She greets, "Where's Georgie?"
They all freeze, John's microphone letting out a high pitched screech before he'd turn it off.
"Upstairs, went to lay down." Paul lies. The bastard.
"Lord, is he okay?" Mrs. Harrison frowns.
"He-he is, just... tired." Paul stammers.
Mrs. Harrison nods, still suspicious.
"Here, John." She takes a Dr. Pepper out of her purse.
"Sweet!" John exclaims, placing his guitar down and taking the drink.
He immediately opens it and, with the first sip, escapes the situation like a coward, bolting to the kitchen.
"I also got you boys summat..." Mrs. Harrison digs through her purse, going up to Paul. "I got you those biscuits you like, dear."
Paul huffs a smile, taking it.
"Aww, you shouldn't have." Paul squeals.
"Nonsense, dear." She turns to Ringo, who quickly tosses George under the couch like he's dirty laundry.
George yelps like a squeaky toy.
"What was that?" Mrs. Harrison frowns, going up to Ringo.
"Uh, it was me." Ringo clears his throat. "I uh, got sick recently. I'm all good now, though."
"Aww, get better soon, Richie." She coos, taking out a pack of boiled sweets. "Here, I know you like these. They help with your throat, too."
Ringo huffs, "Thank you."
She then takes out a pack of Jelly Babies and places them onto the coffee table.
"I'll just put these out for George," She mentions, "If you need me, I'll be resting. You boys feel free to continue."
George suddenly bolts out from under the couch, jumping up onto the coffee table. He proceeds to gnaw on the wrapper, like a starved cat - he got fed about an hour ago. Mrs. Harrison stops dead in her tracks, eyes wide at him.
"Why's the stray here?" She asks, confused.
The boys freeze. Mrs. Harrison attempts to tear the Jelly Babies away, scolding the cat under her breath.
"Uhh..." Paul hums.
"I wanted to keep him." Ringo lies, the... sweetheart? "Doesn't seem to be sick or rabid, I'll take 'im to the vet tomorrow. I'm sorry, Mrs. Harrison."
Mrs. Harrison huffs a relieved smile, now keeping the candy out of reach. "Right, has he been good at least?"
"Very good, very splendid cat." Paul nods, perhaps too hard. "Shockingly so, can even use the loo."
Mrs. Harrison frowns, confused, then slowly nods. "Right."
She then slowly makes her way upstairs with that infamous "kids these days" head shake and sigh, which is when Paul and Ringo exhale held air and John feels it's safe to return. Paul takes the Jelly Babies from the desperate George who was gnawing on them again.
"Don't, you'll choke on these." He says, exhausted. "We oughta find a way to turn you back."
"Meow." George sounds out.
"Yes." Paul nods, "Not sure what you're sayin', but sure, yes."
John huffs. "Think he called you a queer."
"Oh fuck off-" Paul starts.
"Meow." George nods.
Paul freezes, staring at him. "I'll kick you."
"No abusing the cat." Ringo states.
"Can I give 'im more catnip now?" John asks.
"Another time. For now we have to think of ways to turn him back into a real boy again." Paul explains. "Or get him registered as Ringo's house-cat."
They begin brain-wracking, realising there may be nothing there to do that's physically possible. Right as John suggests more catnip for the fourth time, the neglected George manages to finally tear open the pack of Jelly Babies. He attempts to chew one, but can barely do so with feline teeth. He manages to swallow it, immediately flopping onto his side and wailing in pain.
"Meeeoooowwwwwww..." George sounds out.
Paul looks back, seeing the open pack of candies and the state of George, jumping up in terror.
"Oh, my God." He reacts, running up to him, patting his side. "Damn it, Ringo, I thought you had him!"
"Well, I thought you had him!" Ringo retaliates.
John just sips his Dr. Pepper.
"What do we do? Do we call urgent care?" Paul panics. "Do we call a vet? Do we make him throw up?"
"Do cats even have a gag reflex?" Ringo asks.
"They do." John comments.
"I'm sorry why are you not panicking?" Paul raises his voice.
John freezes, springing up and falling to his knees next to George.
"Fuckin' 'ell is he dyin'?" He reacts.
"Could be, and we're not bloody doing anything!" Paul yells in frustration.
Suddenly, George stops wailing.
"Oh, God..." Paul stares.
"W-what is happening? What's he doin'?" Ringo panics.
"Eugh, Lord..." John reacts.
"This shouldn't be possible..." Paul states.
George blinks his eyes awake, the world spinning as he finds himself laying on his side, the three Beatles kneeling at his bedside, right where his head is. He looked dishevelled, as if he were badly hungover. All of his joints hurt, causing him to groan in pain.
"Hey, buddy..." Ringo is the first to speak.
"Where am I..?" George groans.
"In your room, safe and sound." Paul softly says, patting his blanketed shoulder.
"Why are you guys talking to me like I'm a bloody kid..." He rubs his eyes.
"Long story." John almost cracks a laugh.
George looks down, checking himself under the blanket without the others being able to see.
"Why am I naked." He bluntly asks.
The boys look back at the pile of pyjamas he had on before turning into a cat, which implied that, as you'd expect, his clothes didn't turn with him.
"An even longer story." Ringo remarks.
"Did any yous see my-" George raises his voice a bit.
"That's not important." Paul raises a hand to stop him, "What is important is that you're okay now."
George groans. "Define okay."
The boys leave the room, allowing him privacy to dress up. As soon as he does, he walks downstairs.
"How long was I out?" He asks, rubbing his eyes, in jammies, too lazy to throw anything else on.
"Thirty minutes." John states.
He sees the torn open baggie of Jelly Babies, immediately kneeling down to grab one, snacking out of it like a small child.
Paul smiles at the sight, so does Ringo, all while John bites back a laugh. They sit down, watching George down the whole pack, then look down.
"Why..." he starts, then trails off, getting up the floor.
He wobbles a bit as he stands up, softly grabbing at his behind before realising there is no tail there anymore. He shakes his head, confused, and sits next to Ringo, leaning his head onto his shoulder with a low hum, akin to a purr.
John laughs, "He's still doing it."
George frowns, picking his head up. If he were still a cat, his ears would be perked.
"Doing what..?" He asks, slowly staring off as the memories seem to be flooding back.
The three boys begin to suck in air through their teeth simultaneously, holding it in as they anticipate George's reaction.
He abruptly stands up and turns to Paul first. "You hit me with a broom!"
"I did..." Paul admits.
He then turns to John. "And you tried to teach me tricks like a show pony!"
"Sit." John says with a stone face.
George immediately kneels onto the floor.
"Good kitty." John adds.
George groans at himself, getting up.
"And you..." He points a finger at Ringo. "You threw me across the damn living room!"
Ringo gulps.
"All while I... I was... a fucking cat!" He grabs his head, trying to comprehend it.
The room falls into silence.
"Ya want catnip?" John offers.
George sneers, yet his eyes fall contemplative.
"I hate all of you." He simply says, then sits halfway onto Ringo's lap.
"So... How the hell did you turn into a cat?" Paul asks, a hand travelling over John's lips before the latter could dare comment on George's seemingly reflexive action.
"I dunno??" George pipes up, still shaken.
Ringo gently wraps an arm around him, thinking nothing of it.
"Well..." Paul rubs his chin with his free hand, his other still blocking John's muffled protests. "Did you do anything recently you haven't before?"
George sighs, trying to ignore the humiliation and helplessness that lingers on his mind recalling his kitty time. He tries to recall any memory from before that.
"I... drank some of me mum's nighttime tea..." He shrugs, "That's about it."
Ringo and Paul share a look.
"We drank that too, didn't turn into cats..." Ringo ponders. "So did Mrs. Harrison, probably."
Paul shrugs, "Maybe it's just him it has an effect on."
John tears Paul's hand away from his mouth.
"Shall we test that theory?" He smiles, "All of us, a cuppa, see if only Hazza turns all furry again."
George groans.
"...I'll brew the teas." Paul sighs, disappearing into the kitchen.
"I'll go get more Jelly Babies." John stands up to put his boots and coat on.
"I'll watch George." Ringo tightens his embrace just a bit.
"I don't need watching, I'm not a kid or a cat." George sneers.
"Then get off my lap, Georgie." Ringo teases.
George tries, but Ringo just tightens his grip.
"Let go!!" George whines.
"But you're so soft." Ringo nuzzles his cheek into George's head.
George sighs, leaning in.
"I hate you." He snarks.
"No you don't." Ringo smiles, "You chose me, and my lap."
George turns red. "Fuck, I did."
"I kinda miss the cat." Ringo says. "He was cuddlier."
George groans, unwilling to admit, he enjoyed that too.
Seeing as though the others have left, Ringo suddenly presses a kiss onto his cheek - less a romantic one, more like one you'd give to a cat. George freezes, red as a tomato.
"Fuckin' 'ell, lad. What is wrong with you." George reacts.
Ringo shrugs, "Just wanted to see you angry, like a cat."
"I'm not a cat." George protests.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself." Ringo humours.