The usual morning at the Beatle Hotel. He woke up with the need to piss. George was still alseep. Except for the fact that Ringo exclusively saw Paul kiss John and cornered him into the wall connecting their bathroom. He heard a moan and gasp. He stifled a giggle and

(oh my god paul's queer and john's queer and oh my god they kissed )

went back to their room. George was still sleeping like a little baby. He cooed at the sight.

Everything seemed happy. Especially Paul and John with their little makeout session right outside their door. Ringo dove back into the bed and cuddled a pillow. He yawned a bit before slipping back into another bout of sleep.

It was Sunday after all.

---------

George woke up to a precious-looking sleeping Ringo snoring right in front of him. George brushed the hair right of his eyes. He sighed. He unwrapped the covers and

(he's so thin)

went outside the room with a hungry stomach. He saw John and Paul conversing with each other. It seemed heated. John looked angry and

(flustered?)

with Paul and the other seemed to be acting smug about it. He shook his head. Paul seemed to fuel the argument even more and, being an annoying prick he was, seemed to enjoy John getting tipped off.

He made himself a sandwich and when he heard a descending thump on the stairs he decided to make another.

"Morning Ritchie!" He greeted with a mouthful.

"Morning George," He said before yawning. He gave a quick glance to the Lennon-Mccartney pair. A small but evident smirk formed in his lips. George shrugged it off.

"Come on, let's eat. Leave the old married couple with their argument." Ringo laughed.

"They do sure look like a married couple," He said with a smirk. "You don't think...?"

George shooked his head. "Paul may be attractive and John may be a sex-magnet but the two are completely straight."

Ringo fought back a grin. "Are you sure?"

George huffed. "Wanna bet on that, then?"

They sat opposite each other in the small table. Ringo took a small bit of his sandwich.

"Maybe," He teased, chewing on the food. "You never know, Georgie."

He subconciously leaned closer. "Maybe I do?" He gave a quick glance at Ringo's slightly parted lips and lifted his gaze to his wide blue eyes.

Ringo blushed, a pleasing hue of red forming in his cheeks. He gulped and struggled

(so damn cute)

with his words as George leaned closer.

"I-I..."

The pair jumped as the sound of something cracking echoed.

"WELL FUCK YOU TOO THEN JOHN!"

"Oh no," Ringo whispered and stood up quickly. George followed and went to the other.

Paul was missing and John was clutching his cheek. His jaw was clenched.

"Fuck you McCartney," He spat, venom laced in his voice. An ugly bruise was forming in his left cheek. Tears formed in his eyes. "Fuck you."

"I'll go get some ice," Ringo uttered. "George couldja find Paul?"

He nodded and grabbed his coat and

(what the hell did you do now, Paul?)

rushed out the door.

----------

"He fucking socked me, that bastard." John grunted as Ringo pressed an ice pack to his cheek.

"You looked like you were going to hit him." Ringo retorted, an eyebrow raised. John huffed.

"Well who did you think did the hitting, then?" He sneered. "Fucking McCartney thinks he could get everyone to bend for him. Thinks himself as a fucking king or something."

"Hey," He said sympathetically. "You could at least tell me what you guys were arguing about. You looked like you were about to have smoke come out of your ears!"

John shot him a look. "Not funny, Rings." Ringo lowered his gaze to the floor.

"I know it wasn't a good time to joke---"

"Ah, it's my fault anyway. I shouldn't release my anger on you." He murmured. "M'sorry."

Ringo looked blown back. "You? The John Lennon apologizing? I don't believe it. Not one bit." He turned serious. "What happened between you and Paul, anyway?"

"I-I... We did something... Bad."

"Nothing more bad than sharing some drugs?"

John bit his lip, looking unsure. "We did something... illegal. Like really fucking illegal, Rings. I-I... We could be in jail right now and---"

"You kissed..." Ringo saw the horror form in John's eyes. "Didn't you? You kissed."

John didn't say anything. He simply nodded. Ringo pressed the ice pack to his bruise.

"I saw it this early morning when I got up to pee." Ringo began. "I mean, I don't mind! If you guys really like each other---"

"He's a bloke, Ritchie. I'm a bloke. I'm fucking married. I have a son waiting at home and even kissing the same sex is illegal in, what? Most countries?" John ranted. "And if this gets out, holy hell, we'll all get affected. We'll all be dubbed queers and faggots and..." He seemed lost, and terrified. "And I don't want that, Ritchie. Not after all we've been through to get up here. We came so far to get up here...."

"Do you love him?" Ringo asked, giving John a look as he took the ice pack away.

"I-I... Ritchie please don't," He pleaded.

"Do you love him, John?" He insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you love Paul McCartney?"

John turned his head away. He stared at the slightly open door. He could still see Paul slamming it open so hard he thought it broke. And the crack that came from it might be a sign that it was broken.

"Yes," He choked out. "Yes I fucking love James fucking Paul McCartney."

-----------

George finally found his bandmate sitting alone in the park. It was still early morning and no one but the Beatle alone was in the park. He looked so lonely and sad, sitting alone in the park bench. When George came closer he saw dried tears on his cherub cheeks.

"Heya Paul," He sat beside him. "Mind telling me what happened?"

Paul looked at him, doe-eyes red from crying.

"It's all my f-fault," He sniffed. "I kissed him and it's a-all my f-fault..."

"You fancy him, then?" George gently said as he rubbed Paul's back. The older Beatle nodded and looked like he was about to cry again.

"I shouldn't have h-hit him," He wiped his eye with the back of his hand. "I f-fucked up, George. I fucked up." His voice cracked and his bottom lip trembled.

George hugged him and

(ahhh the joys of realizing you're queer)

didn't mind his coat getting wet with Paul's tears. He was his brother. But he also fucked up. Bigtime.

"I bet John loves you back," He said. Paul widened his eyes.

"He won't, George! Would you love someone back when that particular someone fucking clobbered you in the cheek?"

"Then you shouldn't have clobbered him, then!"

The old Paul was back. His cheeks flamed and his eyes shined with somekind of amusement and annoyance for the younger.

"I know that!"

"If you did "know" that," He made air-quotes on the "know". "Then you shouldn't have freakin' clobbered the man!"

"I know that!"

-----------

Ahhh stubborn lovers, tsk tsk!

I decided to put some McLennon loving in and I wanna add the drama! *cackles like a witch*

So why don't you vote, comment, share if you enjoy my story :D

Feeback is always appreciated but if you're here just to hate meaninglessly I'll bask your fooken head in m8.

Jk I'm as harmless as a fucken rabbit in Disney movies.

Love you guys,

~Grace❤️💛💚💙💜