It was already midday by the time George was driving home, although it didn't look like it. The sky was covered in thick, grey clouds, shutting most of the sunlight, and it was raining heavily- it had done so since the moment he had woken up that morning. The wind was howling and pushing against the car as it drove through the unusually silent streets of London, making the drive rather shaky. Yet, the bad weather did little to alter George's happy mood. He was whistling along to the music that was playing - he didn't know the band but they were good - and tapping along with his fingers against the wheel to the beat. A constant smile was plastered on his face. Occasionally, the high chuckle would escape his lips, which he would than hide behind his fist.

It had been a while since he had been this happy, but since he had woken up with his arms around Richie, who had been snoring soundly in his sleep, he had felt little else. Of course, during their talk about how they were going to deal with George's job and Ringo's jealousy, he had felt tense and anxious, but it had been overshadowed by the intense feeling of happiness. Happy that he and Ringo had made up. Happy that they could now talk about it. Happy they would try their hardest to make it work. Happy that Ringo wanted to try his best for his sake. Happy that they were together again after so long. Too long.

After Ringo had woken up as well and they had taken a long how shower together, they had sat down for an elaborate breakfast - for they had been starving after last night's activities - during which they had discussed it, both eager to get that done and over with. Ringo had admitted that he wasn't comfortable with seeing George strip for other guys and give them lap dances. The stage performances weren't much of a problem; there was a distance and Ringo even enjoyed seeing some of the other men struggle when George would tease them. But it were the lap dances, the guys staring at him as if he were a piece of meat, that unnerved him and made his fingers itch with the need to hit them square in their faces.

George had understood, so they had decided they would take it slowly. For the first couple of weeks Ringo would simply stay away from the club and not visit him while he worked. Sometimes he'd pick him up or drop him off, but that was it. George, in turn, would tell Ringo about anything he wanted to know about what happened in the club. Honestly, George was fine with that. He liked that he could now talk to someone about his job without it being a co-worker. It made it more normal, he supposed, which felt rather liberating. If that went well, they would take it a step further and have Ringo come visit him on breaks or during stage performance and they would go further and further, step by step, until Ringo felt comfortable with it. They would make it work, like Paul and Jane would. Lastly, George had proposed something rather different that might put Ringo more at ease. It was stinging high on his inner thigh: a nasty bite mark, large and red enough to be visible through his tights even. It marked George as Ringo's, but it wasn't only a reminder to whom he belonged, but also to show other men - the clients - that he was taken, albeit subtly.

And oh, it had felt so good when Ringo had laid there between this legs after breakfast, sucking and nibbling painfully at that one spot, high on his thigh, until George was squirming in both pain and pleasure and an angry red and blue mark decorated George's skin. It had almost been as good as the blowjob he received afterwards. Even now, when he was sitting in Paul's car, driving home, he would be reminded of the mark everytime he shifted in his seat and it felt good.

               Almost too soon, he had reached his apartment building. He parked the car in its usual spot, finished the song that was playing, and turned off the music, before unbuckling himself and getting out. He shouldn't have been surprised to see Paul walking over to him, already squinting at his precious car to see if George had did it any harm.

"Afternoon, Macca." George greeted his friend with a cheeky smile and a wink as he shut the door behind him and held up the car keys for him. Paul didn't even look at him, however. He merely snatched his keys back and began to inspect his car, letting his fingers run over it and checked it for any small dents or scratches, or other things that didn't belong on his car. Paul loved his car, looked after it as if it were his own baby, the daft git. Thankfully, there was not a scratch or dent or a hint of bird poop on the damn thing, or else Paul would have been pissed for sure. George couldn't completely blame him. It was his first car, after all, and paid a portion of it with his own money. George doubted he'd be much different when he'd get his first car.

"Please, tell me you didn't have sex in it?" Paul asked out of nowhere, pulling the door open to inspect the inside. George flushed at the question and quickly shook his head.

"No! No, of course not! I wouldn't, Paul, you know that. What kind of person do you think I am?" He said and Paul popped his head out of the car to look at him, before nodding, as if seeing if he was lying. His bangs were sticking to his forehead from the rain. George supposed he didn't look much different by now.

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, let's go up. It's cold outside." Paul said with a sigh and shut the car door, before locking it and taking George's arm, leading him up to the stairs.

               Their apartment was nice and warm. Paul had lit up the fireplace, which was something they rarely did, and it gave the room a warm, fiery glow and it smelled wonderfully of wood and fire, making George remember Paul's last birthday when they had roasted marshmallows over the fire. It had been late and Paul had only gotten them from the kitchen after most people had left. They had been delicious and the memory made George wish they had some now.

Jane was there too, sitting on the couch, reading a book and not even looking up when her boyfriend kissed her cheek before disappearing into the kitchen to get something to drink. George muttered a hello, which she returned with a brief smile, before turning back to her book, obviously eager to get back to it. George chuckled at that and took off his coat, shoes and scarf, before grabbing himself a pillow from the couch, so he could sit by the fire to let himself dry. Paul returned from the kitchen with two large glasses of coke. He handed one to George, before grabbing himself a pillow as well and following George's example.

"So?" Paul said in a hushed voice as he leaned closer to his friend, "I take it you and Richie made up, judging from the dazzling smile on your face." George glanced at him from the corner of his eyes as he reached out for the warm flames, letting his numb fingers regain their sense of touch as they warmed up.

"He's taking me to see Bob Dylan." He said with an even bigger grin, making Paul chuckle.

"I know."

"And Rome."

"Is he buying you clothes and jewellery as well, then?"

"Very funny, Paul," George said with a glare, "and no, he doesn't."

"But he's really spoiling you, isn't he?" Paul said as he forced himself to wipe the grin off his face. George shrugged at his question and looked down at the glass in his hands.

"It's not like I want him to. I told him he didn't need to, but he said he wanted to. Besides, it's a great way to celebrate us getting back together again." George admitted. He tried to smile, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, his face still being too tense. Paul frowned at his awkward attempt at a smile and shuffled a little closer. He glanced back at Jane and when he was certain she wasn't listening, he turned back.

"Am I sensing a 'but' here, Harrison? I thought you guys had made up and everything was wonderful with sparkles and rainbows and unicorns and love hearts shooting out of your arse?" Paul asked and George couldn't help but laugh at his friend's words.

"Well, yeah," He said, still chuckling, "We even talked and everything and we've come up with a plan to make it work and all. It's just..."

"What?"

"There is an opening night for a new play at the theatre this Saturday and Richie sort of asked me to be his date." George said, blushing at the idea of being Ringo's date to something like that. Something so public and with all his co-workers...

"So? That's lovely, isn't it?" Paul asked, not getting why George was thinking that was possible a bad thing.

"The thing is that all his co-workers will be there, too, you know. And they'll want to meet me and talk to me and that's not really a problem but most of them, if not all of them, know I'm a stripper! They know what I do and they've seen what happened between me and Richie. Who knows what they are going to think! Or what they are going to think of Richie!" George said in a hushed tone, not wanting Jane to hear. Paul sighed at his confession and looked away into the fire, thinking it over.

"What did Ringo say?" He asked.

"N-nothing... I er... I haven't told him, yet." George admitted, blushing, knowing already how Paul was going to react to that. Sure enough, Paul turned back to him with a disappointed look on his face.

"George... You need to talk to him about this if you're that worried about it, not to me! I mean, I doubt he minds, considering he was the one to ask you. And since when do you care?!"

'I don't... I just-"

"George, you need to talk to him about this. This is what made it all go to shit between you and him in the first place, now don't ruin it by making the same mistake. You need to be honest about these things to him." Paul said, looking George straight in the eye and George sighed as he nodded. He knew Paul was right. He had known this too, but he hadn't wanted to hurt Ringo's feeling by refusing him so quickly after they had just made up. But Paul was right. The damn git.

"I know, Paul... I'll talk to him on Monday. I invited us to have dinner with us after he gets off work." George promised with a small smile and Paul nodded as he patted him encouragingly on his shoulder.

"Now, tell me about Rome." Paul asked, putting an end to that discussion. George nodded and let out a deep breath as he began to explain just what Ringo had in mind for their little holiday.

               Ringo checked his phone one last time as he pulled up in front of the university library, just to see if George hadn't called in the time it had taken him to drive from Paul and his apartment to here. It had taken him only about fifteen minutes, but it was better to be save than sorry. It would be a shame if he spend half an hour looking for him at the library when he had already gone home. There were no new messages.

It was only half past four in the afternoon. He hadn't been supposed to get off until half past five, but he had finished up all he had to do, so he had decided to just leave early for once. He had really missed George and now he had him again, he wasn't going to miss up on an opportunity to get him alone. He locked his car and ascended the few stairs that lead up to the front door of the eighteenth century building. The grant door opened automatically.

It took him a little while to find George, but when he did he was happy to find him sitting in a large, comfy-looking chair, earphones in and with a thick, heavy-looking book in his lap, leather-bound and old looking. He seemed completely engulfed in it, the tip of his tongue sticking out from the corner of his eyes as he frowned at the pages and his eyes shot across them, reading quickly, yet thoroughly. There was hardly anyone else on this floor. It was already rather late and Ringo supposed many people wanted to leave in favour of grabbing something to eat after a long day of studying.

He simply watched him for a while; how he licked his fingers tips before flipping a page and how he'd hastily scribble something down in a notebook whenever he found something particularly interested. After a little while, Ringo decided he'd been reading for long enough and walked over to him. Careful not to care him, he coughed and waved his hand in front of his boyfriend's eyes. The younger man looked up in annoyance, ready to scold the person who had interrupted him, but as soon as he recognised the man in front of him, the frown on his face vanished and was replaced almost instantly by a radiant smile.

"Richie! I thought you were still at work!" George explained in a hushed voice - they were in a library after all - and immediately closed his book and put it aside, before starting to clear up his things.

"I would be, had it not been for that fact that I'm such an amazing employee that I was done early." Ringo said with a smile, as George got up and hugged the thick book close to his chest. Up close it looked even bigger than he had first imagined it to be. His amazement must have shown, for George chuckled as he looked down at the book in his arms and back up at Ringo.

"Just some light reading." He joked with a wink, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his lover's lips, "how did you know I was here?"

"Paul told me. I went to your apartment first, of course, but when Paul said you were still working at the library, I decided to come and pick you up. Saves you a bus ride." Ringo explained and George nodded as he picked up his bag as well. It looked almost heavier than the book.

"You're very generous. Would you mind holding this. I just need to put the book back and then we can go."

"I don't mind waiting if you still need to finish something up." Ringo quickly said as he took George's bag and slung it over his shoulder. George started walking to the back of the library where large rows of bookshelves stood, looking both imposing and intimidating as well as surprisingly clean for their supposed ages. That "old book"-smell, however, was clearly still intact.

"No. I'm done. Besides, I much rather spend time with you than with Saint Sebastian, if I'm honest." George said, walking quicker than Ringo would have liked, for the bag really was rather heavy. It seemed his boyfriend hadn't been lying when he'd said he was stronger than he looked.

"I assume that's a good thing?" He asked, not completely familiar with the Bible, despite being raised with going to Church on Sunday's. He had never had much attention-span. Certainly not as a kid, except when he'd been playing the drum. George turned to him with a broad smile and wink at him as a reply, before disappearing between two rows of bookshelves. Ringo followed him with a grin of his own.

As soon as George had put the book back, he grabbed the younger man by his shoulders and swirled him around, before pressing him against the shelves and attacking his mouth with is own. Their teeth clashed together rather painfully, before their lips melted together and their tongues intertwined. George moaned into Ringo's mouth as the sudden assault, but let him do anything he wanted, responding eagerly to every move Ringo made. When he grabbed the younger man's wrists and pinned them above his head, he let out a needy growl. Ringo couldn't stifle his chuckle, breaking the kiss.

"What?" George asked, sounding rather annoyed with the lack of mouth against his own. Ringo looked down at him with a smile as his shook his head.

"How very naughty of you, making out with your boyfriend in the library." He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. George, however, only rolled his eyes at that and grabbed Ringo by his shoulders, pulling him back against him and kissing him again, licking deliberately into his mouth and earning himself a long groan. Deciding not to ruin the mood again, Ringo kissed back eagerly. He let his hands travel down George's sides until their rested on his hips, pulling them against him and groaning as he felt the bulge in George's jeans grow. When he rolled his hips into George's, however, the younger man pulled away.

"W-wait. I-I need tell you something."

"Can't it wait?" Ringo asked, pouting at his boyfriend, who shook his head.

"It's nothing serious... I just need to do it now. It's about this Saturday. I er... I'm not sure I should come with you." At this Ringo, who had been staring at the crook of George neck and deciding whether he should try to distract George or not, looked up at his boyfriend in surprise, his eyes wide and a frown on his forehead.

"It's just... your co-workers will be there and, you know... they were there at the club. They know I'm a stripper." George explained, but this only confused Ringo more.

"But I thought you liked being a stripper and all that." He asked. George whined at that, as if unsure how to explain himself.

"I know. But that doesn't mean I'm particularly proud of it. It's only going to lead to questions and staring and that's uncomfortable. Besides, who knows what they'll be thinking of you, showing up with a stripper on your arm."

"Well, fuck what they think! George, I don't care. I love you and I want you to be my date. They probably aren't going to understand it and yes, they will be looking and asking inappropriate and dumb questions, but you know what? Now we can show them what you're really like and that what they have imagined in those tiny little heads of theirs is not true!" Ringo said, but George didn't look too convinced. He was nibbling his bottom lip as he thought it over. Sighing, Ringo cupped his cheek in the palm of his hand and angled his face up, making George meet his eye.

"George, of course there will be people who will never understand, but I don't care what other people think about us. Or you. Or me. I want you and only you, exactly as you are and I want to take you to premières that I'm invited to." He continued. George blinked a few times at that, before opening his mouth to speak.

"Do you really mean that?" He asked and Ringo nodded, smiling.

"Of course. You're a wonderful guy and fuck them if they can't see that because you're a stripper. It's a part of who you are. I know that now. But that doesn't mean that's all you are. You're my boyfriend, too. You're clever, and funny, and handsome, and sweet, and gentle, and a good listening, and a great boyfriend, whether you believe it or not. I want to take you to the première, Geo. No matter what other people are going to think. Okay?"

"Okay." George agreed, finally smiling again and Ringo smiled back, before leaning in for another kiss. This one softer and more loving, letting George know how much he exactly loved him. The younger man moaned at that and wrapped his arms around Ringo's neck, pulling him closer.

"I love you." He whispered, causing Ringo to chuckle.

"Do you think Paul would mind if we took a little longer?" The older man asked suggestively, rolling his hips up into George's, who moaned before smirking and shaking his head.

"Probably not. If we hurry." Ringo didn't need to be told twice, as he quickly pushed himself more up against George and pressed his wrists against the books above his head, keeping him in place as he started to rut against the other man. They kissed all the while, hoping it would muffle their moans until they both came, soiling their trousers.

               As it had happened, though, Paul had minded it when they had come home later than expected, both giggling like schoolgirls as they hurried to George's room without a greeting and came back wearing different trousers. You didn't need to be a genius to work out what had happened. They only started feeling bad, however, when they came into the kitchen and realised Paul had already made all of the food and had been waiting for them and tying his hardest not to let the food go to waste. To make it up with him, they had reacted ten times as enthusiastic about the food as they had at it, listened twice as carefully to what Paul had to say and done the dishes and put on tea and coffee. Eventually, Paul seemed to have forgiven him.

After dinner, they had moved to the couch to watch a movie together and drink wine. It was good wine, cheap but not watery at all. This had meant, however, they had drunk much more than they should have done and in the end both Paul and George had insisted on having Ringo spend the night, since he was too drunk to drive. Ringo was more than happy to accept.

It felt good to be lying in George's bed again. It smelled like him and it was intoxicating, making him dream solely of him, but also be more prone to react when something was happening to him. He woke up in the middle of the night. It was pitch black in the little bedroom and George was lying his head face in the crook of his neck as he slept. At first, Ringo wondered what could have awoken him. It was only several minutes later that he heard it again. A soft whimpering. As if on cue, George's body stirred now too.

"Who is it?" George managed to croak out with a tired sigh, which Ringo copied. Almost right away, though they both wished they hadn't. It was Paul, sounding broken as he stood in the frame of the door, biting his nail. "Paul? Are you okay?" Ringo could hear George whisper and Paul shook his head in reply.

"Nightmare?" Immediately Paul's nodding began to increase. George stood up, not even checking if Ringo was awake, before approaching his friend. Ringo couldn't hear exactly. Turning his head to them, he nearly gasped at the sight of Paul; pale and hunched over, eyes wide and dilated, his fingers shaking rather forcefully.

"Should I come?" Ringo could hear George ask, to which Paul nodded. George looked back over his shoulder and smiled when Ringo quickly signalled him to go with Paul, still feeling shocked by the state the man was in.

               Carefully, George let Paul out of the room and back to his own bed, where he laid him down and moved to lay down besides him, too. Over an hour passed before George asked Paul if he wanted him to hold him and Paul nodded and did so as he whispered sweet nothings into the other man's ear to sooth him. Slowly, Paul started to calm down.

He didn't notice Ringo until much later. He must have been with Paul for almost an hour or two, when he saw the figure of Ringo's body in the doorway, watching them. George smiled at him and motioned him to get back to bed, but Ringo shook his head and merely smiled back as he watched George comfort his friend, trying his bed, but still not doing enough.

"George?" Paul's voice sounded weak and the grip George had on him tightened. "Thanks for being here for me." He said, about which George could only blush and kiss his temple as he whispered to him to be quiet. Paul nodded and closed his eyes as he leaned into George's body and let him protect him. He was already looking better, as Ringo thought, but it was clear he wasn't as tough as he made himself out to be.

"I'm sorry." Paul muttered, ignoring the shaking head of George, who was still whispering in his ear, "It's been going better but then it just comes back to me..."

"I know, Paul. It's okay. It's fine. That's normal, okay? I'm here. I'll protect you."

"Thank you, George."

Ringo smiled at the sight and sighed, not quite believing how lucky he was with such a sweet and gentle boyfriend, taking care of all who needed. He could fall in love even more at that moment. He continued to watch him for a minute longer, before going to the kitchen to get them both some water, knowing they could use it.

When he returned however, Paul had already fallen asleep again and so had George. He placed the glasses on the bedside table and decided not to wake George, in case he accidentally woke up Paul as well. The guy needed his sleep. He kissed the man's temple before returning to George's bed, hoping Paul was going to be alright.