"What?" The older man's voice sounded so frustrated and annoyed that George couldn't help but snicker. God, he had missed that voice. Right away, George felt the urge to simply scream into the receiver, shouting at Ringo that he had been stupid and begging him to forgive him and take him back, shyness and all his insecurities forgotten. But he resisted. Mostly, because he could see Paul looking at him expectantly from the couch, not even trying to hide his curiosity.

"Richie?" He asked instead, covering his mouth with his fingers, as he leaned forward over the table, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks under Paul's watchful gaze. He could hear a loud thud on the other end of the line, followed by an intense silence. He couldn't even hear him breathe.

"Richie?" He asked again as he sat up in his chair, being a little more worried now. He sighed in relieve when he heard a shaky breath in his ear.

"George?" Ringo asked, sounding completely baffled, as if he couldn't quite believe George had actually called him. Then again, he probably was. The younger man chuckled, feeling his body relax again as he slumped in his seat.

"What are you doing? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No! No, it's fine. I er..." Ringo quickly answered, but it was followed by a deep sigh, making it difficult for George to believe him.

"I could call back?" He suggested, but Ringo quickly interrupted him.

"No! No, I er... I was just about to call you too, actually. I'm...glad you called. How are you?" Ringo asked, his voice airy but still strained, making George wonder what he had been doing before he called. He decided not to dwell on it. It probably wasn't important anyway.

"I'm okay. Been better." He answered truthfully.

"Yes. Same here, I suppose."

"I've been missing you." George confessed, turning his head away from Paul to his friend wouldn't be able to see him blush and grin like a fucking teenager with a crush. But of course, just that gesture was just enough for Paul to know exactly how his friend was doing, judging by his snickering. George shot him a rude hand gesture and tried to ignore him as he focussed on his phone call, which was much more important at the moment. He shuffled away as he heard Paul get up and walk over to him, and sighed as Paul merely ruffled his hair and disappeared into the kitchen. He could hear Ringo sigh through the phone.

"Please, George, don't do this if... you know... you don't want-"

"Richie, I do. I-I'm sorry, okay? I've been stupid. I know I have. I was hoping that maybe-"

"You called me 'Richie'." Ringo pointed out, interrupting George, who blinked at that, speechless, "You haven't called me that in a long time."

"I guess I haven't, no." George answered, frowning at himself, "You said you were going to call me?" Paul walked out of the kitchen again, holding two glasses of water. He put one down in front of his friend, how eagerly took a sip, and moved back onto the couch to watch as if were watching a movie in the theatre. George had been about to tell him to fuck off, when Ringo cut in before him.

"Yes," He answered with a nervous giggle, "I wasn't really supposed to. I mean, John told me not to, but-" George felt the corners of his lips curl up in a broad grin at the mention of John's name, realising what Ringo was talking about. He shifted nervously in his seat, excited and yet a little bit scared, considering it was John. "Anyway, I er... I wanted to know what you thought of the package I left at your door." Ringo continued and George frowned at that.

"Package?" He asked, not understanding what Ringo was talking about. He glanced at Paul, who only looked as confused as he did. Curious, he nodded in the direction of the door. Paul got it immediately, getting up and walking over to the front door to see what Ringo had left for George.

"Yes, I figured that's why you called. I do admit it was sooner than expected."

Not a second later, Paul returned, holding a bottle with something stuffed inside of it. Curious, George took it from him. He frowned as he studied the bottle, holding it up to see what was inside of it. It was a note or a letter but it was folded it, making it impossible to see what it said. He unscrewed it and fingered out the piece of paper.

"A message in a bottle, eh?" George couldn't help but ask, chuckling.

"Oh, shut up. It wasn't even my idea, okay."

"No, I think it's cute." George responded, still chuckling to himself as he put the bottle down and started to unfold the piece of paper.

"Just fucking read it." Ringo said, his voice almost a growl. Paul was still standing besides him, staring impatiently at the paper in George's hand, obviously as he curious as George himself. George skimmed the piece of paper quickly, before going into more detail. It seemed to be an apology of some sort. Asking him to please listen to him and give him another chance to explain himself. An apology for not being honest with him about George's job and his feelings towards it. An apology for trying to make decisions for him because of it. And apology for how he treated him and that he didn't know how exactly people say George until after the party. How people made assumptions about them, about George, based on nothing more than a stupid job. A job that meant much more to George than he had thought. And that that was perhaps his biggest mistake. He never saw him as a stripper. He was always just George, who had a strange job. A job no one could actually want. Or so he thought. But now he knew it wasn't just a job, but a part of who he was. An apology for having made assumptions about him, instead of talking to him about it. The apology was followed by some more asking for forgiveness and...

"You fucking didn't?!" George exclaimed as he stared at the words on the paper. He wiped away some of the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand, which he only now realised had formed during his reading of the letter. Paul leaned down over his shoulder, snatching the letter from George's fingers to look for himself. George simply let him, still not really believe what he had read. "Oh, Richie... "

"I remembered you mentioning you wanted to see him, but didn't have enough money. I er... John told me about the concert so I got us two tickets."

"Richie, you don't have to buy me concert tickets to get me to listen to you!" George objected, feeling how his throat tightened at the thought of Ringo sitting behind his laptop all evening, until deep into the night, waiting for the tickets to go on sale, trying his hardest to stay awake. All for him.

"I know..." Ringo said, his voice sounding somewhat shy, "I wanted to get them. For us. So, what do you think?"

"That you deserve someone so much better than me." George said with a sad chuckle, "Christ, Richie! What do you even want with me? I'm a complete mess! You deserve someone who will fight for you and will never let you go. Not me... I'm just some stupid git who won't even be honest with his boyfriend about his fucking job and then breaks up with him for stupid petty reasons, not realising what he had. Fuck, I've been so fucking stupid. You deserve so much more."

"Fuck that, Geo! You fucking know I love you. And do you seriously think I'd go through with all of this crap if I didn't think you deserve me! You're worth so much more than you think."

"No, I'm not. Maybe you should take someone else to see Bob Dylan, Richie. Someone who will treat you right."

"Would you stop saying that shit! In case you didn't realise from that letter, I still fucking care about you. I'm fucking crazy about you. Not a day passes by when I don't think about you. I didn't realise before how people looked at you, how you thought I saw you, but because you were always so much more to me. You weren't a stripper, you were George, and you still are, and being a stripper is just a part of that. I know that now. But I don't care. I love you, George. All of you. Damn it, I don't want to do this through the phone, but it's true. And I don't care about what happened to you, or what made you so afraid that I would ever try to control you, any part of you, I still love you, and I never would." Ringo told him, his voice so forceful and genuine that it made George tear up again. His body was shivering and when he felt Paul's hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, he leaned into him, needing to be grounded. Did Ringo really love him this much?! Still, did Ringo know? About him? About what happened? And he still loved him? Despite all that?

"How do you know something happened? Did John tell you?" He couldn't help but ask, knowing Paul wouldn't say a word about that without his explicit permission.

"No. Paul told me every stripper has his story. He wouldn't tell me what yours was, but I just knew, I guess." Ringo answered truthfully and George felt a little bit better about that. If Ringo was going to know about that, he was going to be the one to tell him. He'd tell him everything from now on.

"Do you forgive me?" He asked carefully, his voice wavering.

"I already have." He replied, making George grin from ear to ear.

"Where are you?" George asked, needing to see Ringo, needing to make up with him, needing him. Just him.

"I er... I'm just a few blocks down. My car kind of refused to work."

"I'll come get you." George said, not giving Ringo any time to respond or object.

               George couldn't stop smiling as he took Paul's car and slowly drove through the streets through which Ringo have had been driving if he had been going back home. It was a clear and calm evening with few people around. Only the occasional stray cat crossed the road, it's eyes reflecting the lights of the car. It was almost unbelievable how easy it had been to make up with Ringo. Of course, they would still need to talk about everything that happened and his job, but at least they now knew they both wanted to make up. George felt incredibly stupid. He should have known Ringo hadn't been like he had thought. That there had been another reason for his refusal to talk to George about the fact that his job made him uncomfortable and jealous at times. That he didn't really understand at all, despite trying too.

But he had been too blind, too stupid and too afraid to go through that same thing again. The pain, the humiliation, the betrayal. The feeling of being worthless and nothing more than a piece of meat to be enjoyed and taken advantage of. Feeling like he didn't deserve love, or happiness, or anyone. He had been too blind and unwilling to even consider the fact that Ringo actually did love him and wanted to be there for him and support him, but wasn't sure how. And yet, even after all of that, Ringo still wanted to be with him. He still wanted him. He still loved him.

He shouldn't have bought them concert tickets to see Bob Dylan live. Yes, he had always dreamed to go see him, had even considered spying on him like a creep, hoping to catch as much as a glimpse of him, but Ringo didn't need to buy them tickets to see him to get him to listen to him. But then again, he had been very difficult to get in touch with, refusing to meet up or even see him, to talk to him or answer his phone, to text him back. It was basically a miracle Ringo hadn't given up already.

Turning a corner, he spotted Ringo a little bit further down the road, sitting on the curb besides his car. The hood stood open, and it was clear Ringo had tried to fix the car himself. Sadly, it seemed he had failed. His face and hands were covered in oil.

As soon as he heard George's car, he looked up, a smile creeping up on his face as he recognised the car. Carefully, George parked the car on the side of the street, still hearing Paul's instructions and threats echoing in his mind. He turned to look at Ringo and pulled open the car door as he beckoned him over.

"Your ride has finally arrived." He told him with a nod and a charming smile. Ringo chuckled as he got up from the ground and shuffled over to him, seeming rather nervous. George couldn't say he was doing much better. He felt his cheeks heat up again as Ringo leaned forward to look into the car.

"Hi." Ringo said.

"Hi." George replied, taking in a shuddering deep breath, "I'm sorry. About everything. I should have been more honest with you. About the job. About what it meant to me. About myself. About what happened before you came along. You couldn't have known."

"Still," Ringo said with a shrug, "I should have been honest too. About telling you the truth about how I felt. About everything as well." Ringo finished with a nervous chuckle, which George joined.

"John and Paul would be banging our heads together and calling us stupid, if they were here." George said, still chuckling and Ringo laughed a little harder as he nodded in agreement.

"They would be right to." He answered and this time it was George's time to nod, "So, we're good?" Ringo bit his lip at the question, shuffling his weight from his one foot to the other and back again. He looked down and refused to meet George's eyes as he waited for an answer. George's heart with pumping in his chest at the question, and nodded before replying with a simple "yes."

"Now, get your shit. I'm taking you home." George finished, eager to get to Ringo's apartment and be alone again. To be able to talk. Ringo nodded and walked back to his own car to grab his stuff and lock his car, before coming back to George and moving into the passenger's seat.

"Nice of Paul to lend you his car." He remarked and George glanced at him from the corner of his eye, before nodding, deciding this was not the time for talking about potential death threats. Instead, he told Ringo wear his seatbelt and shifted into gear as he drove off, his left hand resting on Ringo's tight whenever he didn't have to shift gears. Ringo didn't comment on it, but was smiling, which George figured was as positive a sign as any.

               By the time Ringo let them into his apartment, all their shyness and awkwardness were once again forgotten, despite the fact that they had hardly said anything during the drive back. They had quickly grown accustomed to each other again, enjoying each other's company, something which they had both missed so much over the last couple of weeks.

Ringo helped George out of his coat, letting his fingers slide over the boy's body as he did so, feeling the way he shivered under his touch. He hung the coat from a peg, before taking off his own coat as well, feeling George's eyes on him as the younger man leaned casually against the wall, chewing his bottom lip. He looked so innocent, despite the fact that Ringo knew so much better than that. But for some reason, he did remind him of the first serious date he had ever had with another guy. That moment after, when he had invited Ringo in and Ringo had expected, how nervous and unsure they had been about how things would continue. Ringo didn't want to waste any more time on talking. On words and endless apologies. He needed to act. Needed to feel.

He hung up his own coat as well, keeping his eyes on George's, before walking over to him, slowly stepping closer and feeling how George let him into his personal space, feeling the man's body heat radiating off him and feeling it burn onto his own skin. Both men took in a short breath, keeping their eyes locked on each other, feeling how they pulled each other closer by some invisible thread.

"I have really missed you." Ringo could hear himself mutter and George smiled weakly at that, not trying to move away, which Ringo took as a sign to come closer. So he did and still, George didn't move. Encouraged, he stepped closer and closer, watching George intensely for reactions, any indication that what he was doing was unwanted, but none came, so he continued. Carefully he raised a hand, bringing it up to George's face and gently cupping his cheek in it, angling his face down to they were looking each other straight in the eye. He could feel the ways George seemed to briefly tense up at the touch, before melting into it.

"I did, too. I- I'm sorry..." George said, but Ringo shook his head, letting his thumb caress the corner of George's mouth. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from trembling at the contact. He slowly leaned forward, moving George's head slightly to cock it to the side, while doing the same with is own head. His eyes fluttered closer right as his lips brushed against George's, feeling how they trembled under his own. But yet,they were firm and cold, inviting him to warm them up. He kissed him again. And again, before licking into him, his tongue running past his bottom lip, but sliding his tongue into George's mouth, groaning into him at the tingling sensation he started to feel right there. At the tips of his tongue, right where it met George's.

They younger man moaned as well, curling his tongue around Ringo's almost desperately as his hands moved up to cling at Ringo's shoulders, pulling him closer. Ringo went with him easily, allowing George to pull him against him, feel his body against his and his mind going fuzzy at how much taller George seemed from himself. He had to angle his face up and stand on his toes to easily press his lips against the other man's, pulling and nipping at them with his teeth and savouring the little breathy moans he got from George. When he pulled away, Ringo couldn't help but whine, having missed the sensation of George kissing him so much over the last weeks. He slowly opened his eyes and looked straight into George's brown ones, taking in a deep breath as he marvelled at how dark and dilated they already were.

They simply hold each other's gaze as they stare into each other's eyes, breathing in each other's air, sharing body warmth. George's hands were hot where he could feel them through his clothing, making him want to feel him too, skin to skin. Slowly, he moved one hand to George's hips, and started to guide him through the apartment, somehow managing not to bump into anything as they safely reached the couch. As soon as the back of George's knees hit the couch, he let himself fall down on top of it, lowering himself so his mouth was at level with his crotch, and fuck if that didn't get Ringo's imagination to run wild. He tangled his fingers into George's hair and push it backward.

"What?" George asked after a few long moments of them simply looking at each other, not doing anything. Ringo smiled, but shook his head.

"Nothing... I just... love you. I never said that without shouting it at you." He explained, and George laughed at that, moving his hand up to caress Ringo's sides.

"I love you, too. I do." He replied and leaned up to press his lips against Ringo's once more, pulling a gasp from the older man's throat, before pulling him into his lap.

               Ringo lay against George as he gently continued to trail kisses along the side of his neck as his fingers worked to expose more of his collarbone, which looked so inviting. George had his arms wrapped around him, mindlessly drawing circles and triangles and stars and all other sorts of pattern and figures on his skin as he hummed a song with his eyes closed, enjoying their closeness.

"I could fall asleep right here and be happy if I didn't wake up again." George muttered with a yawn, catching Ringo's attention and making him look up at him.

"You'd better wake up again. It's that I'm so exhausted or I'd have kept you awake all night."

"Well, how about tomorrow morning instead. I don't have any classes and I know you don't work on Sundays so..." George suggested and Ringo laughed as he nodded yes, being unable to refuse him.

"I'll keep you to that, luv." He replied and sighed deeply as he turned his head and rubbed his face in George's chest. Oh dear, he could fall asleep right there. But not yet. Soon.

"Can I ask you something?" Ringo asked softly, kissing George's covered chest. The man nodded. "How do you feel about Rome?" He asked and George looked down at him in surprise.

"I'd love to visit once. I went once with school, but I hardly saw anything. Or my eyes did, but my brain just couldn't fathom it any more after one day."

"How about it if we go together? In a few weeks." Ringo suggested, and George stared at him for a moment, unblinking.

"Are you sure?" He asked, but Ringo merely grinned, "Isn't that too expensive? I mean, we're already going to a concert!"

"Well, yeah... I just... I know how much you like Rome, especially from a religious perspective. I er... I'm not meant to talk about this either, but I got a promotion, so I figured it would be nice to spend some time together and get drunk together, you know. Visit some places and have fun together. Just us. Get away from it all. Work it all out?"

"I'd love that." George replied with a yawn. and Ringo nodded, already feeling excited to go. Yet, when another yawn emerged from George's throat, Ringo rolled on top of him and kissed him deeply, before pulling away and laying his head on his chest as he closed his eyes and let out a yawn himself. Immediately, George's arms tightened around him and pulled him closer as George leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

"I've really missed you, too." He said, but Ringo couldn't say anything in reply, feeling his eyelids grown heavy and finally fall closer, easily taking him with him to a different world. Ringo let himself be taken away, and pretty soon, George fell asleep as well. A peaceful slumber, tight and deep and utterly calm, which was something George hadn't felt in a really long time. Subconsciously, he kissed Ringo again, who merely returned a heated groan, not being able to say anything more, knowing they would have to talk and discuss some more tomorrow. At least, he now had George again, something that had proved to be much easier than he had thought when he had been having so much trouble already with getting in touch with him again after their fight. They had time tomorrow. They had all the time right now.