paul mccartney was your older brother. a wonderful older brother he was. on your birthday, he would wake you up with your favourite breakfast and a present or two. he adored you, really.

one morning, you awoke to the scent of toast. toast, maybe pancakes... definitely toast, though. paul had never been too good at cooking... you rushed downstairs and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing paul and john in the kitchen. must have been john, of course...

"oh! goodmorning! sleep well?" paul smiled toward you, johns arm was around his waist.