Finally, it was the day of the party, but Ringo wasn't feeling as excited as he thought he would be. Even though he and George had ended their relationship more than two weeks ago, it still felt like it had only just happened. Well, if you counted their major fight and the last time they saw each other and not the phone call. Thinking of George still made him either want to break something or curl up in bed and not talk to anyone for a while. Of course, he didn't give into those urges, but forced himself to live on like a normal person. Still, he hadn't been able to focus on anything for too long, which caused some trouble at work. It was sufficient to say his boss wasn't exactly happy with him lately.

Thankfully, most of the things for the party had already been arranged and he had asked Brian Epstein to set everything up at the club, so the party shouldn't be too much trouble. Or so he hoped. Attending it, however, would be more difficult. He had been standing in front of his closet for at least half an hour, and he was still only wearing a pair of old boxers and black socks. The worst thing was that he'd been seeing Paul and John again. George wouldn't be there, thankfully, but the idea of seeing Paul and John again made his palms sweaty. Would they be angry with him? No, he was not looking forward to that meeting. Especially Paul, who seemed to think George was almost his responsibility. Yes, Paul would definitely be pissed at him for cocking it up and breaking George's heart.

Sighing, Ringo decided that in the end it wouldn't matter at all what he decided to wear, so he pulled out a simple pair of grey slacks with a white button-up shirt. Perhaps a bit too fancy, considering he was going to a strip club, but it was hardly for his own pleasure. It might be best to go for a more professional image and stay away from all the light nudity. Besides, it would feel wrong to indulge in something like that where he and George had met, seeing as he was still not over him.

He had stopped calling a few days ago, realising he should take a different approach if he wanted to make it up with George. The guy still had refused to answer any of his calls, not even to tell him to go fuck himself or something like that, so it would be very unlikely he had done it a few calls later. Still, he kept his phone on him all the time, just in case George might decide to call him instead. Of course, he hadn't.

Gathering his stuff, he prepared to leave, saying goodbye to Muffin who followed him around everywhere he went. When he came by the door and pulled on his coat, she sat down in front of him and continued to stare at him with some kind of death glare. When she meowed once, Ringo realised what she wanted. He quickly poured some cat food into a bowl and gave it to her with a light pat on her head. She meowed contently at him, seemingly giving him permission to go now. Finally, Ringo left, his hands shaking as he held them tightly by his side.

               As Ringo had thought, Brian had set everything up in the club. Almost everything had stayed exactly the same, only the music had changed to something a bit more contemporary to fit Pete's taste and the tables stood a little further apart. The curtain before the stage were closed, but chairs had been turned to face it, ready for a show. The doors to the private room stood wide open as well, making it clear that people could use them if they so wished and the lights were more dimmed. The walls were decorated with naughty posters and balloons flew high against the ceiling. Some of the strippers were walking around, talking to each other and laughing, most already in costume. It looked like a conference for policemen with very revealing clothes that had been moved to an entirely different location at the last moment.

Brian stood by the curtains, giving some instructions to some guys Ringo had only seen once before. The were all listening attentively and occasionally asking some brief questions, but mostly they simply nodded in understanding. When Brian caught sight of him, he waved, signalling him he'd be right over after he had finished this. Ringo nodded at him, before going over to the bar, feeling how his nerves were starting to get the better of him. He needed a little something.

Too late, however, Ringo spotted John and Paul behind the bar, talking to each other in private. He wished he could turn around and leave so he could wait until they had left to get his drink, but John had already spotted him as well and was informing Paul. The younger lad quickly glanced over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable and unlike anything Ringo had seen so far on him, but he wasn't sure if it was entirely bad. Knowing he had no other choice, he walked over to the two men, but as soon as he said hello, Paul turned around, pushed past him and walked away. Ringo watched him go with a sigh. Yes, Paul wasn't happy with him.

"Don't mind him. He's just a bit upset about the whole thing between you and George. He feels he has to, you know, seeing as you hurt his little brother." John said from behind the bar, making Ringo turn to him again with a frown on his face.

"Brother?" He asked, not understanding. John grinned at him, motioning him to sit down.

"Scotch?" He asked and Ringo nodded as John continued, "He's not actually his brother, but they go back a long time and Paul always sort of felt this responsibility, you know. Kind of brotherly. He sees George like his little brother a bit, which annoys George, of course. Makes it even funnier, you know." He said as he poured Ringo his drink, sliding it over to him with a wink.

"And you're not... upset?" Ringo asked, taking the drink and twirling it around in his hand for a bit before taking the first sip. He hummed contently as it alcohol burned on his tongue and slid down his throat. Immediately, Ringo felt a bit better.

"Me? Sure, I am. You hurt him, you know. You should have seen him, but I know you didn't mean to. Besides, I know what it's like." John told him as he poured himself a scotch as well. "The stripper thing. It's not easy." He clarified when he noticed the confused look on the other man's face.

"Thanks." Ringo muttered back, taking another large sip.

"Still, I'm a bit mad at you for breaking the man's heart, you know. He's really into you. So don't get any funny ideas about me being your friend or something. I'm Team George."

"Team George?"

"Yeah, you know. Team Edward, Team Jacob, Team Pita... I'm Team George."

"That's not- sure. Whatever." Ringo said with a chuckle, "And er... it's Peeta."

"Yeah, Pita. Exactly. That's what I said." John replied, not realising what he was doing wrong. Ringo decided to leave it. It wasn't worth it, anyway.

               Music was blearing loudly through the speakers as George entered the club. There were more people than he had first thought there would be, but no one seemed to take not of him. Some would look up and nod appreciatively, before turning back to their conversation partner or the pretty boy who was taking his clothes of for him. The club smelled of expensive cologne and leather, as well as something more flowery, which was very different from the usual sweat and alcohol, he'd normally smell. He supposed that had been Brian doing. The man always paid great attention to detail and just knew how to create the right atmosphere. It certainly seemed to have worked.

He took off his coat and hung it over his arm as he stepped further into the club. It felt odd to be there in his own time, without all the hungry eyes pointed at him. He almost felt invisible, which was not at all unpleasant. Some looked up as he walked by, curious to know who he was probably, as well as taking in his form. He knew he looked hot. He and Paul and spend many minutes to make sure of that. He was wearing a simple tight-fitting pair of grey slacks with a nice white and blue striped short-sleeved shirt. He looked hot, without making it seem like he had put much effort in it, which was a lie. George wasn't sure why that was important, but he trusted Paul on this one. The guy did know what he was talking about, after all.

Even though it was busy at the club and it seemed like all the guests were there, George could not see Ringo, which was kind of a let down. He had been certain he'd see him almost right away, seeing as he organised it for the most part. The organizer should be there during the special evening to make sure everything went okay, right? He moved nervously through the mass of people, looking out for those familiar bright blue eyes and that large, but wonderful nose. Still, no matter where he looked, he could not find him, and honestly, his bravery started to leave him very quickly.

He spotted John behind the bar, cleaning glasses as he spoke with a men about his age, who George only vaguely recognized, but couldn't place. He was wearing the same costume as Paul had been prancing around in all afternoon, which meant he was a stripper. He probably worked different hours and days. Did that mean Ringo had been coming to the club on days he hadn't been working as well? The realisation made him stop dead in his tracks. He wasn't sure why that made his fingers twitch with the need to hit the guy in his pretty face. Obviously, he had caught Ringo's eye when he had gone to the club, or else he wouldn't be here. He held his arms tightly by his side as he walked over to them, gritting his teeth, knowing better than to hit the stripper, seeing as his arms were twice the size of his!

"George! What are you doing here, luv? I thought you were still sulking in your bed." John called at him when George was close enough. The younger man flushed slightly as the guy turned around to look at who John was talking about. George smiled painfully at him, his hands bawling up into fist. The stripper didn't smile back, nor did he say anything, as he said goodbye to John and got off his seat to do his job. Did Ringo like big, arrogant men? If so, what the hell did he want with him?! He was neither big, nor arrogant... He slid onto a bar stool, taking the arrogant guy's place.

"Can I get you anything?" John asked politely, but George quickly shook his head as he leaned closer.

"Have you seen Richard?" He shouted over the music. John thought about it for a while, before shrugging.

"I made him a scotch, but that must have been almost two hours ago. Sorry. Sure you don't want a glass of water or anything. You look a little flushed." John tried, but George refused again, raising one hand to his cheek to check in temperature. He was slightly warm.

"I'm fine. Thanks." He said to John, before sliding off his stool to go back to the group of people to ask if they had seen Ringo. One of them surely must have.

               It wasn't long before he spotted Paul. He had been busy asking people, none of whom had seen Ringo anywhere, when he heard the familiar voice of his friend. He swiftly turned around and smiled as he saw Paul sitting on a table in front of a man, his legs spread wide to let the guy have a good look as he smoked a ciggy and laughed at what they guy said as he leisurely unbuttoned his shirt for him and stroked himself through his clothes. The poor guy's eyes seemed to almost fall from their sockets.

Chuckling at the sight, George approached the two men and lay a hand on Paul's shoulder, catching his attention. Paul turned to face with a expression that seemed to say "remove your hand or I'll cut it off" before it softened as he saw who it was.

"D'you mind if I borrowed him for a bit?" George asked with a polite smile at the man in front of Paul, as Paul closed his legs and slid off the table. The guy, however, didn't seem to be very pleased by having his eye candy being taken away and sat up in his chair, making himself seem larger and broader than he was as he glared at George.

"Yes, I do! Wait your turn, man! Or at least get your own! He's mine." He growled at him, but George didn't have time for this. He was on edge as it was, with still not having found Ringo and the prospect of actually having to talk to him when he did see him.

"Actually, I fucking work here and I would ask you to have some respect. Come on, Paul." George snarled at him as he grabbed Paul's wrist and started to drag him with him, leaving the guy angry and growling behind them. Paul waved apologetically at him, before giggling and following George gladly.

George led them to a more quiet corner of the club, where he was certain they'd be alone for a bit. He'd rather not deal with any more entitled arseholes for a bit. Only when he turned back to Paul did George notice he was still smoking that ciggy.

"I thought you quitted?" He asked, frowning as he pointed at the ciggy between Paul's fingers. The older man shrugged and took another drag.

"I had. Until you decided to hand me one again two weeks ago. With that disgusting liquor you bought. So actually, it's your fault."

"You're weak." George told him, giving Paul a look. Paul sighed at that and removed the ciggy from between his lips. He stared at it in disgust before pressing it out against the brick wall and dropping it onto the ground. George didn't care enough to say anything off it.

"Anyway. What I wanted to say is, have you seen Ringo?" George asked, looking eagerly around himself to see if he could see him now. Again, he was disappointed.

"Yes! I saw him go backstage not a few minutes ago." Paul replied, surprising George who had already giving up on getting an actual answer. He turned to look back at Paul with huge eyes. The older man chuckled in amusement.

"You know," He continued, "he looks pretty bad if you ask me. Dark circles under his eyes, a bit more skinny than before. He seems pretty down. I'm almost certain he'd want nothing more than make up with you." George smiled at the thought, hoping Paul was right. It would be nice if they could just talk it out, let each other know what they wanted and did not want, and make up again. He still missed him and as the days had gone by it had become more and more difficult to ignore his calls.

"Thanks, Paul!" He said, leaning in to kiss Paul's cheek, before turning around. Before he could walk away, however, Paul grasped his arm and turned him back around again.

"What?" George asked, frowning when he only saw Paul grinning at him. Slowly, however, Paul reached into the breast pocket of his outfit and retrieved two concert tickets.

"Guess who John's taking to the concert!" He asked, wiggling the tickets before George's eyes as he couldn't stop grinning. George laughed at that and patting Paul on the shoulder.

"That's great, Paul."

"I know! I'm so excited! Oh, but don't tell Stuart yet. John... er... he still has to tell him, you know." Paul asked and John nodded immediately, before promising he'd be right after he had talked to Ringo. Paul nodded and wished him luck as George quickly hurried backstage, eager to have it over with.

               Ringo wiped his hands off on his slacks as he stepped out of the bathrooms and back into the club. It had been the forth time in two hours he had needed to go, which was ridiculous, he knew. But he just couldn't help himself. Everyone around him, however, seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was oddly annoying. Pete had complimented him on his work, which Ringo knew should make him feel proud and gleeful, but it didn't. He missed George even more now. It was strange being at the club while George wasn't there. It was as if he could just emerge from behind a corner of person at any second and it made Ringo nervous and rather scared.He was just being paranoid, of course. There was no reason for George to be here this evening. He knew what was happening and he knew Ringo would be there, and if the unanswered calls were anything to go by, he would not want to see him right now.

From the corner of his eye, he could see one of the strippers sneak outside for some air and at that moment, Ringo couldn't want anything more. He quickly crossed the room and followed the strange man outside.

It was a lot colder than Ringo had first expected it to be, but at the same time it felt rather good. He zipped his coat all the way up before reaching for a ciggy and lightening it. He had stopped a while ago, but with all the stress of his job as well as the break up, he hadn't been able to resist. He'd stop again later. He always did. Besides, it was better than being drunk all day.

"Hey. C-can I have one?" The stripper who Ringo had followed outside suddenly asked, popping up besides him. Or rather, he was leaning against the wall near him. Ringo stared at him for a second or two, before lighting a second cigarette and handing it to the other man, who smiled thankfully.

"What's your story then?" The boy asked, making Ringo laugh as well as frown.

"Story?" He asked. The other man nodded and beckoned Ringo over to stand next to him. Ringo did as he wanted without a second thought. "Well... I kind of just broke up with my boyfriend." He muttered, taking a deep drag of his ciggy, sighing as the nicotine relaxed his nerves.

"Poor you. What did he do?"

"No. It's me. I er... I sort of accused him of being unfaithful and got a bit too controlling. He didn't like that."

"You don't seem like the type." The guy brought in and Ringo laughed at that, nodding.

"I'm not normally. I just... I love him, you know, and I got jealous... It's been two weeks and I can't get him out of my mind, you know. It's killing me. I tried to call, make it up to him, but he won't answer me." He said and the stripper nodded, before turning to him. He eyed him up and down once, before leaning in to whisper into his ear.

"You need something to take your mind off him. Get over him." He said and Ringo snickered at that.

"Like I hadn't thought of that!"

"Well... I could help you take your mind off him? Cheer you up a bit." The other man suggested and Ringo swallowed thickly at the suggestion. He shouldn't. He had met George this way, he couldn't just... Or could he? Perhaps it would work. It didn't seem like George was willing to take him back at the moment anyway, so maybe he just needed a little something. For all he knew, George was sleeping with other people as well. And he wouldn't even be sleeping with anyone! It was only a striptease, right?

"I-I don't know. I don't think-" Ringo started, but the guy broke him off by grabbing his hand.

"I promise you'll feel better. And if you don't like it, we'll stop." He assured Ringo, who swallowed thickly, before nodding "yes", hoping the guy was right. It would be nice not to think about George for even ten minutes. And George wasn't there. He would never even have to know. Or maybe he wouldn't even mind. They have broken up, after all. The other guy was right. He just needed to take his mind of George for a while and think of something else. Or nothing at all. He nodded again, more resolutely this time. The guy smiled at him, before putting out both their ciggies and leading Ringo back inside.

               George sighed deeply as he closed the door leading backstage behind him again. Ringo hadn't been there, so he must have left and they had simply missed each other. Still, though, he had been looking for almost forty-five minutes and he was growing more and more tired and more and more fed up with the whole thing. And even if he would finally find Ringo, there was no certainty that they would even talk, let alone meet up. Perhaps it was best to just go home and visit him at home instead.

But right at that moment, as George manoeuvred through the crowd of people, all eagerly watching three partially naked cops dance on stage with hands full of cash, he stopped the small physique of his ex-boyfriend at the back of the club. He was sitting in a chair, smiling with twinkling eyes. Only, he wasn't alone. In his lap, in fact, he had a rather pretty boy, who was playing teasingly with the buttons of Ringo's shirt as he rotated his hips right above Ringo's crotch. A flare of heat went through George's entire body. His hands bawled up into fists at the sight and he gritted his teeth as he promptly walked over to the couple who were obviously enjoying themselves.

How dare he?! How dare he do this to him! They had only just broken up and already he had gone to the next stripper?! Had he truly meant nothing to him? Had Paul been wrong? And then he'd say he was afraid George would cheat! Well, fuck him!

By the time he had reached the back of the club, his entire body was shaking with anger and his eyes were spewing fire as he growled insults to himself which were directed at a particular blue-eyed man who was currently taking in the sight of a very curvy round arse, that was bouncing happily before his eyes. As soon as he reached Ringo, he spat out his name, catching the man's attention before slapping him right in the face. A loud smack echoed through the club and several people turned their heads to them.

"George! What- What are you... how? Fuck! No, George! Shit, Geo this isn't what it looks like!" Ringo shouted as he reached for his painful cheek. The guy on his lap, quickly moved away and hurried off, to where George didn't know. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about that guy. He was just doing this job. Ringo however...

"You're so full of shit, you know that! You- you... I fucking hate you! How dare you do this to me?! You know... I wanted to give you another chance. I really was, but now I know I would have been wasting my time. I fucking hate you, Ringo. And I don't know what to say to you, except fuck you and that I never want to see your face ever again!" George shouted at him, feeling anger rush through him, making his mind fuzzy and his body shake with adrenalin. Ringo was staring at him, gaping at him, not knowing what to say. George raised his hand again and hit him once more, right in the face as he felt a tear escape his eye.

"Fuck you!" He shouted once more, before turning around and running away, out of the front door and out of the club, away from Ringo.

"George, please! I- fuck... It was nothing, I promise. Please!" The older man tried to call after him, but George ignored him and let the door fall shut behind him with a loud bang. Paul quickly jumped off from the stage and followed George out, knowing his friend would need him, but not before shooting a foul look at Ringo, who let himself fall back into his chair, not knowing what to do anymore other than cry.