It was late by the time Ringo arrived at the club that evening. It was quiet inside, especially for a Sunday evening. There were only a few people dotted around the place, softly talking to each other and admiring the boys on stage and around them. Overall everyone seemed really relaxed. Even the strippers themselves seemed to have time to take a small break every once in a while and talk to each other.

The interior of the club had gone back to normal. Ringo hadn't expected any differently, but the club now gave him a sense of comfort and security, whereas before he had been uneasy and tense. He unbuttoned his coat and loosened his tie a bit as he sauntered over to the bar and took a seat at one of the stools. John wasn't anywhere in sight, but there was this other handsome lad, asking him what he wanted to drink. He ordered a scotch and coke with a glass of water and handed the lad some money. The boy took it with a polite nod and got to work. While he waited, Ringo turned in his seat to look into the club, trying to see where John was. He hadn't gone home yet, had he? As far as Ringo knew, he always worked until the club closed, but what if today was different? Surely, he would have let him know if he had left already, right?

He reached into the pocket of his coat and got out his phone. Nothing. He sighed and put his phone back before turning back around. The lad smiled at him as he placed his drinks on the bar in front of him.

"Ta." Ringo thanked him and the lad turned back around to help someone else. He took his glass of scotch and coke in hand and twirled it around a few times before taking a sip. As he put his glass back down, he felt a hand grasping his shoulder, making him jump in his seat.

"Christ, Lennon!" Ringo exclaimed as he turned around to see John grinning mischievously at him as he moved to sit down on the stool next to Ringo. His grin didn't even disappear when he saw Ringo glare at him. He only winked and Ringo simply had to laugh, his nervousness coming out.

"What are you laughing about, eh?" John asked, his voice chiding but the grin was still there. Ringo waved it away and shook his head.

"Nothing. Your face is funny, that's all." He giggled and John gasped dramatically, grasping his chest in fake hurt.

"You hurt me, Richie! My face is excruciatingly handsome." He said in a posh voice, making Ringo laugh in reply.

"Now," John continued, "you're a lucky man, as I'm no my break right now, so you have my undivided attention. What did you want to talk to me about?" John asked as he got up from his stool and smoothly clambered over the bar to stand in front of him like always. Ringo's smile faded and he tapped nervously on the bar with his fingers as he searched for the right words to say what he wanted to say. John grabbed himself a glass of scotch as well. The other boy glanced at John and opened his mouth to say something of it, but changed his mind at the last second, and turned back to the costumer he was dealing with. Ringo wished people were as intimidated by him as by John. It would certainly make everything a little easier.

"I need to speak with George." Ringo finally said. Jon crooked an eyebrow at that.

"Well... that's too bad, seeing as he's not here."

"No, I mean... I want to make up with George. I want to try but-"

"But?"

"He won't answer his phone and I'm sure that if I turn up at his door he's not going to listen but simply slam the door in my face! And I know Paul is not going to help me. But I do really miss him. Still! And I was to apologise, but I can't do that when he's not listening, so I thought- are you even listening? John?" Ringo frowned when John continued to stare next to him, seemingly having even forgotten that he was there at all.

"John?" Ringo asked again, but there was no answer. Sighing, he turned his head to see what had stolen John's attention so suddenly. Quickly, his gaze fell on a familiar mop of black hair.

"Oh..." Ringo muttered in both understanding and surprise.

"He shouldn't be working. But God knows he's a stubborn little twat. No way changing his mind when he's determined to do whatever." John said as he followed the pretty boy with his eyes as he manoeuvred through the many grasping hands, balancing a tray with glasses on the tips of his fingers. He was smiling, but Ringo didn't miss the slight tremble in the lad's fingers when he handed someone his drink.

"Is he alright, then?"

"Of course, he isn't! But try telling him that."

"What about Mr Epstein?" Ringo suggested, but John shook his head.

"He's far too easily persuaded some times. Paul knows how to work him. The lad knows how to work anyone. Except me and George. Or I'd like to think so, at least." He explained with a naughty grin and a telling wink. Ringo chuckled to humour him, but found it difficult to look away from Paul.

"I just look out for him, you know. Somebody's got to, right?"

"He seem happy enough." Ringo remarked as he watched Paul comfortably flirt with a guy who seemed to have a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. His friends seem to notice too, teasing him and cheering Paul on. All in all Paul seemed his old self again, if you didn't count the slight tremble in his fingers, which seemed to have gone as Paul lowers himself in the guy's lap. John lets out a grumble and turns back to George.

"I'm not sure. Paul doesn't like doing what he's told, especially if he doesn't like what is being asked of him. Even more especially if the people giving him orders are doctors. He doesn't like people thinking he's weak, you know. Never has. He's a good actor when he wants to be. He just shuts himself off completely. I can understand though, although I'm nothing like it." John explained, drinking some more of his drink as he leaned a little closer to Ringo. He had his voice lowered so no one else could hear what they were talking about. Curious to know more, Ringo leaned closer to, following John's example.

"What you are like, then?" he asked and John chuckled at that.

"I'm a fucking piece of shit, that's what I'm like. Everything just bursts free. Sadness, anger, hysteria, excess energy. It just comes exploding out of me." He replied, using elaborate hand gestures to give Ringo a clear visual.

"Sounds lovely." Ringo replied, shaking his head as he took a large gulp from his drink.

"You know it, dear." John laughed, raising his glass as a toast. They toasted and finished their first drink. Before Ringo had even had to chance to put his glass back down, John already grasped it away from him to refill it, winking at Ringo as he told him it was on the house. The boy next to him opened his mouth again, but closed it again as soon as John glared at him.

               Some time passed as they simply sat and drank together, getting to know each other and both keeping a close eye on Paul, who either knew they were watching him and trying his best not to let anything show, or was actually doing really good. John assured Ringo it was the former, and Ringo trusted on that, even though it looked more like the latter to him. But John did know Paul longer than he had, so he probably knew best. Also, he didn't feel like arguing about that. Especially when there was still a rather pressing matter on his mind that needed to be discussed before he left.

John's shift had started again, but he had assured Ringo he could still talk to him while tending on the thousands and thousands of people in the club, because he was just skilful like that. When Ringo turned around, having the feeling John was making a joke, and saw most people had already left the club, he flushed, feeling like an idiot. The younger man merely grinned at him knowingly, but didn't say anything more about, seeming perfectly happy with laughing at Ringo in silence.

"So what did you want to talk about, anyway? I already told you George wasn't here." John asked as he poured a man a beer.

"You really didn't listen to me, did you?" Ringo asked with a sigh. John merely shrugged, not seeming to care much. Every once in a while, Ringo could still see him looking up to check on Paul. It was really rather adorable.

"What should I do about George? I mean... to get back with him." He asked, playing with his glass of water- he had decided to quit the alcohol for the evening- tracing the rim with his middle finger.

"Just tell him the truth!" John told him, as he started to mindlessly wash up some glasses, looking up at Ringo as if he were an completely idiot not to have thought of that before. Ringo forced himself not to roll his eyes at him, knowing John wouldn't appreciate it, even if he did deserve it.

"I know that! But he won't listen! I need him to listen to me, John."

"Well... maybe you should call it quits. If it didn't work out... maybe it's for the best." John suggested, making Ringo groan and shake his head.

"You don't understand, John! I fucking miss him! There has not been a day I haven't thought about him!"

"Oh, come on! It didn't even last that long. You've almost been as long apart as you were together. Besides, it's not like you loved him or anything." John interrupted, muttering the last. Ringo felt his cheeks heat up at that, making him wiggle in his seat. As soon as John noticed his reaction, he moved closer to him, leaning in and moving his face to close to Ringo, their faces were almost touching. Ringo tried his best to keep himself in place and not to move away, somehow thinking that was important. Like he said, John was intimidating.

"You love him?" John finally asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Ringo nodded, finally looking down in embarrassment. He cursed himself for acting like such a stupid little school girl. He already told George! Why did confessing it to John make it seem so... real?

"Does he know?" John finally asked and Ringo nodded again.

"Yes... I sort of told him during a fight and er... I sort of said he loved me too. Perhaps not in those exact words, but... It was kind of clear. I just really want it to work between us. I can't stop thinking about him. And we didn't even break up for any good reason. Not one we can't fix. It was more like a stupid misunderstanding anyway." He said and when he looked back up again, he saw John was grinning at him, seeming rather delighted with the news.

"Now, there's something I can work with." He muttered and Ringo tried to keep himself from laughing, but failed. Miserably. The hurt look on John's face made it even worse.

"Sorry, John, but I doubt it, seeing as you're still pining after you're little crush over there." He chuckled and John glared at him, trying to kill him with his gaze. Thankfully, it didn't work.

"That's different," John said in his defence, "Paul's straight. Or so he claims to be."

"You don't believe him?"

"Let's just say you start to notice little things when you're having wanking sessions you're about fifteen years old." John replied with a shrug. The older man didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Not that he wasn't curious. It's just not something you hear every day. He didn't have any wanking sessions with friends. Was he supposed to have had? Was that a thing he had just missed out on for some reason? It was probably because he used to be sick so often. Damn it.

"Listen," John continued as he finally moved his face away from Ringo's and went back to cleaning the many, many glasses before him, "just talk to him. Explain what happened and that you love him and that you didn't mean to be an inconsiderate arsehole. George feels pretty bad as well, you know, so he'll probably want to take all the blame himself, anyway." He gave him an encouraging smile, but Ringo only wanted to let his head drop onto the wooden bar in annoyance.

"Didn't you hear me?! He doesn't fucking want to speak with me! He doesn't even answer his damn phone!" He exclaimed.

"Then, we're going to make him listen." John replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Ringo, however, knowing how difficult that was from experience, wasn't so sure about that.

"And how do you suppose we do that, eh? Kidnap him and tie him to a chair? I don't think he's going to like that very much." Ringo replied sarcastically, already slightly regretting asking John for this. John, however, still seemed to think it was very easy and was looking rather excited.

"Oh no," he said with a chuckle, "Although I appreciate the input. No, I have a simpler idea to get George to listen to you."

"As long as it's not illegal I'm in with whatever you suggest." Ringo replied with a sigh, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, seeing John's wide mischievous grin. Still, you never knew.

               It was difficult to focus when you checked your phone almost every minute. George could account for that. The last few days, he had been on his phone almost every moment of the day, and even at night he had been clutching it to his heart, holding it like a dragon would protect its treasure. Every time he woke up, no matter what time it was, he would quickly check his phone, even though he knew it was futile. Even now he knew there wouldn't be any new notifications, any missed calls or any unread text messages. He had been clutching his phone in his hand the entire time and it had not rung, or buzzed in his hand at all over the last minute, since he had last checked.

A few times Paul had been threatening to take his phone away, and he probably would have had he not been in his room for most of the time, recovering. Honestly, George had been surprised when Paul had announced he was going to work that evening, especially since had spend most of the day eating crisps in bed before he had appeared in the living room, fully (if you could call it that) dressed and ready to work, looking even taller than he was in his heels. Paul always liked to wear those heels and especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Knowing it was futile to try to stop Paul and keep him home, he had allowed him to go, but called John as soon as he had left to ask him to keep an eye out on him. Naturally, that little phone call, which had not lasted more than forty seconds, had caused him so much tension as he kept wondering if perhaps he had missed the call now and his phone just hadn't registered it. He was hopeless.

"Would you please put that damn thing away!" Olivia suddenly exclaimed next to him, turning to him and looking him dead in the eye, obviously trying to intimidate him. It worked, as he slowly lowered his phone and put it away in his bag. Still, he felt grateful to her for doing that, knowing he needed.

"Sorry..." he muttered and she sighed, her body relaxing again.

"It's fine. It's just... we need to get this done alright. You can pine over your boyfriend later."

"He just hasn't called me at all! Just when I decided to pick up when he calls again, he stops calling! What if he gave up?"

"George-" Olivia started, her voice tight and annoyed. The man next to her, however, didn't even seem to notice she had said anything at all.

"It's just so strange... Do you think I scared him off? Maybe he thinks I don't want to speak with him!" George continued and Olivia groaned in frustration, before closing their books and turning to her friend, knowing he wasn't going to stop this any time soon if they didn't talk about it.

"George, what would you think if you had tried calling him for the last two weeks! Honestly, I'm surprised he tried for that long!" She said and George turned to her with wide eyes.

"But I do want to talk to him!" He said and Olivia sighed as she reached for his hands and took them in her own, placing them in her lap and holding them closely as she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, trying to calm him down a little.

"I know, but he doesn't know that, does he? Why don't you call him instead if you're so upset about it?" She suggested, but George pulled a funny face and looked away, his cheeks whitening at the mere thought. He looked so mortified by the idea that Olivia couldn't help but chuckle, as he reminded her of a spoilt child that wants things to go exactly his way, but more adorable and with less tantrums.

"But... but what if he doesn't want to talk to me?" He asked, his voice small. She couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable his accent sounded that way. It was strange for her to hear such a strong scouse accent in London, but she liked it. It was different. And kind of attractive if she was honest with herself.

"Geo," She said, her voice stern as if she was talking to a child, "Ringo obviously tried very hard, so he probably still really wants to talk to you. And besides, maybe now it's your turn to put some effort into the relationship. It can't all come down to Ringo. And besides, it might show Ringo that you're really serious and not just pitying him." She explained and George sighed with a slow nod, knowing she was right.

"I hate it when you do that." He muttered. Olivia raised an eyebrow at that and sat up a bit in her chair, not understand what he was talking about. "When you're right." George added as he saw the confused look on her face, and chuckled softly, trying to push away the feeling of terror at the thought of having to call Ringo himself now.

"I'll consider it." He finally agreed and Olivia smiled happily at that as she squeezed his hands and turned back to the books, eager to finally get their assignment done. George followed her example and tried his best to focus on the book instead of the thought of his phone in his bag. Eventually, he started to manage, making him a lot less terrified at the same time as well.

               The plan he and John had managed to come up with seemed simple enough. It had taken them no more than fifteen minutes to come up with it and work out all the details, but that was also the exact reason why Ringo felt unsure whether it would work or not. What if something went wrong? Or if George reacted differently than they had thought? Or what if George got hit by a car and was send to the hospital before they even got to the plan? Or what if- He was being ridiculous and he knew it. It would all go fine, like John had said, and if anything worked out a little differently, than they could simply take that into account and adapt their plan in such a way that they would still get to the last step on their plan. He and George would kiss and potentially fuck each other's brains out. At the moment, Ringo wasn't sure if that prospect made him more or less nervous.

Ringo tried to zip up his coat with trembling fingers as he made his way across the club towards the exit. However, when he's only a few feet away from the door, he looks up to see Paul walking into his direction with a tray of empty glasses in his hand. He was closer now than he had been all evening and although he still looked much better than Ringo had thought he would look, only now did he see how white Paul was and how tired his eyes looked.

"Hey." He greeted Paul when he was near enough, and Paul turned around to see who had been talking about it, seemingly having looked straight through Ringo. When he noticed him, however, he smiled one of those charming smile with which he could swoon anyone and walked over to him.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asked, faking happiness as he placed the tray on a nearby table. Ringo grimaced at him, now knowing what John had been talking about now he knew what to look for. He decided not to dwell on that aspect for too long.

"I could ask you the same thing," He replied and Paul's face twitched briefly, before it returned to its normal baby-faced look.

"Who told you then, eh?" Paul asked with a sigh, his eyes darting briefly to John. Ringo merely nodded, letting him know his suspicions were correct. Paul merely rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, although he did not seem to bothered with his knowing.

"Are you alright?" He asked, feeling like Paul could faint before him at any second, although he knew that was being dramatic. Paul rolled his eyes and laughed airily.

"Oh yes, I'm fine." He replied, and Ringo wondered what he had expected Paul to say, seeing as what John had told him about Paul. Things did start to make more sense now, though. He chose to leave it, seeing as both he and Paul knew fully well he wasn't. There was no need to him say it aloud.

"Now, why are you here?" Paul asked, brushing a hair out of his face. His voice sounded a bit too light for Ringo's liking, but then again, it was only logical Paul would be suspicious, considering all that happened.

"I er... I talked to John. I want to make up with George, but he won't listen so I needed some help."

"Well... maybe he has a very good reason not to listen to you." Paul snapped back and his words stung, even though Ringo had already known it.

"Listen, Paul. I do care about George. A lot. I'm sorry about what happened and I know I have been stupid, but right now, all I want is to apologize to George and try to make up with him. I miss him. I- I love him." He tells him. Paul sighed at that and nodded.

"I know. I'm just... I don't want to see George hurt you know. He's like my little brother. I do like you, Ringo, and I know George likes you too and if you want to make up with him, I won't mind."

"Thanks, Paul." George said and Paul smiled weakly at him. A tough looking guy walked past them, and pretended to casually brush against Paul with his shoulder. Ringo didn't miss the way Paul flinched at the sudden unexpected touch and quickly moved away as the guy moved to squeeze his bum, giving himself away. Paul turned his head towards to strange man and playfully chided him, a radiant smile on his face and the guy winked flirtatiously, before moving on to the bathrooms. As soon as Paul turned back to Ringo however, the smile vanished and he shuddered again.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Yes! I told you I'm fine." Paul snapped at him before Ringo could even finish his sentence. As soon as the words were out, however, he sighed and apologized to Ringo.

"Why don't you just stop?" Ringo asked, speaking in a whisper and leaning closer to Paul so no one would hear.

"I have to work, Richie. Even though my psychiatrist doesn't agree, but who gives a shit about that! I need to work. It helps me get over it."

"But... with all that happened. To you. You were drugged." Ringo tried, not understanding at all why Paul would want to come back to do this kind of work after what happened. He could have been... fuck.

"Yes, I was drugged and for fuck's sake, who knows what could have happened if it wasn't for the fact that he was a complete fuck-up and Brian keeps an eye out. He does care about us, you know. We're his boys. It's one of the risks and we all know it is. We get special training and everything. They prepare as. They do actually see us as people, you know. Not as mere good-looking pieces of meat." Paul told him, his voice suddenly forceful. The contrast between the power in his voice and the weakness showing in his face was almost scary.

"But..." Ringo tried, "you could have been... been..."

"Raped?" Paul asked and Ringo cringed at the word, but nodded anyway, "No, that wouldn't have happened. There are people everywhere, cameras everywhere. Didn't you here? Brian cares about us. The last thing he wants is one of his strippers getting raped or murdered. Who knows what they might do to his business! And he kind of loves us. The big queer he is. But that doesn't mean stuff like this doesn't happen. Ringo, nearly everyone here has a story. It's not anything new. I'm not the first and I won't be the last."

"Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before. Hell, my appeal isn't just my good looks, you know. I am straight. You know how many guys like the idea of getting a straight guy to fall for you and wither in your lap and want you? It's a power kick. Power is dangerous, especially in a place like this, when I am not the one who has it. And then there are those guys who just think I'm a slut and a tease, who are even more dangerous. It's kind of funny though, considering that's exactly what my job is, but that's only a small detail."

"You aren't serious?" Ringo asked, shocked by what Paul was telling him. This couldn't be the way they were taught to deal with it. Like it was nothing? But the plain way Paul spoke about it... And then the worst thing entered his mind. "Does... does George have a story?" He asked, afraid to know the answer.

"Maybe you should ask him that yourself. Listen, I'm not saying it's an easy thing to deal with and the last thing Brian wants is for it to become normal for us. Like I said, he cares."

"But why don't you just stop? I mean, if it's that dangerous? Surely the money isn't that good!" Ringo asked and he seemed to have said something funny, as Paul suddenly started laughing, though he couldn't figure out what that could have been.

"Richie, dear, if I did this for the money I would have stopped ages ago! Don't get me wrong, we get paid pretty damn good, although the tips is what you make your real money on, but I've seen tons of jobs that paid the same or more. "Normal" jobs, but who wants those? It's fun, doing this. You may find that hard to believe, and I don't blame you, but it is. This job is more than just a way to make money. It's about performance, losing yourself in a fantasy and doing all those things you would never even dream of doing normally. It's fun to play with guy's erections and hearts. It's more than just a job. Surely, George told you that." Paul said, smiling broadly and Ringo blinked at couple of times as he let it all sink in.

"No," He finally said, making Paul look up at him in surprise, "he didn't. At least not that clearly." And something suddenly clicked. It was a moment of clarity, a sudden look into what had been going wrong between him and George since the beginning. George was a stripper. It wasn't just a job, a way to make money to pay his way through university or to pay his rent. No. It was part of who he was, and he actually loved doing it. George was always a stripper.