It was not until some weeks later that George finally found himself sitting beside the man he loved on a flight to Rome. Ringo had picked him up early in the afternoon after his last class before the Christmas holiday as a surprise, bags already packed and loaded into the boot of the car and their flight tickets in his hand, all ready to go. And now he was sitting here, his head resting on Ringo's shoulder as he stared out of the little window at the pink and golden coloured clouds beneath them. They didn't need to fly much longer, and although George was nervous, he was eager to get down onto the ground, out of the plane and into the unfamiliar city and explore. They would only be away for three days, as he had promised his parents he'd spend Christmas with them at home in Liverpool, but it was going to be the best three days in a long time.

He did wonder what Ringo would say to him inviting him to come to Liverpool with him to celebrate Christmas. They would have to come up with a story of how they met for his parents, though. For all they knew, he was still working at the coffee shop where he had been sacked after he had 'accidentally' eaten most of the scones. Breaking the news that he had been fired, and had gotten a job as a male stripper, and had gotten into a relationship with a customer there, might be a bit much for one Christmas after all.

Ringo had his eyes closed and he was breathing softly, but George knew he wasn't asleep, having been lying beside the man as he slept so many times that he could always tell. It would be nice to be able to spend Christmas together. And he was almost certain his parents would approve of him. How could they not? But first, it was time to enjoy their first holiday together. That was a big step, wasn't it?

He snuggled up to him, burying his face into the crook of the man's neck and planting a little kiss there. Ringo stirred beside him, turning his head to kiss the top of the younger man's head in return. The gesture made him smile.

"Thank you for this," he muttered into Ringo's neck with a little sigh as he relaxed against the older man. "I really needed a little break from it all."

"You deserve it, love. You are going to love the hotel I picked out for us."

"You didn't make it too expensive, did you? I already feel bad for not paying for any of this, and I'd only feel worse if I have to sleep in a bed that is far too comfortable to be cheap."

"I just want the best for you. I can afford it."

"I know," George said with a sigh, lifting his head from his boyfriend's shoulder. "And I like that, but I can actually pay for myself, you know. I do actually have a job, remember?" Ringo swallowed at the mention of his job, George noticed, and he quickly reached for his hand, entwining their fingers and stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. Ringo looked down at their hands and smiled at the sight before looking back up at George. "I want a boyfriend, Richie. Not a sugar daddy," the younger man added with a careful smile and Ringo chuckled, nodding.

"I know. I just like spoiling you. But if you really feel so bad about it, you can pay for the food and stuff," he suggested and George nodded in agreement right away.

"Thank you," he said, and leaned up to kiss Ringo, properly this time, on the lips. Ringo let him, smiling into it as he cupped his boyfriend's cheek in his hand and pulled him closer. As soon as they pulled apart, there came the announcement that they would be landing soon, so they fastened their seatbelts, folded up their trays, and looked out of the small window as they started to descend and the city came into sight, pretty lights and everything. George felt Ringo squeeze his hand and he leaned back against him in reply, knowing Ringo always got a little nervous during take-off and landing.

               Thankfully, the landing went smoothly and in less than two hours they were outside the train station where the bus had dropped them off from the airport, their suitcases in their hands, and looking around to see where they were and how they were supposed to walk. Or Ringo was, as George checked they had truly turned off their internet connection on their phones, more to have something to do while he waited than that he was actually worried about it. Ringo had bought a map back in England and had marked all the important places they wanted to visit, as well as restaurants, coffee shops, and of course their hotel. Reading the said map, however, proved to be a bit more of a problem. Normally, George wouldn't have minded and just waited patiently for Ringo to figure it out, but as it was already rather late and he was getting rather hungry, he just wanted to find the hotel, check in, bring up their suitcases, freshen up, and go out for dinner. He put their phones back in their suitcases and asked for the map so he could see where they were supposed to be going, as this was taking ages. Only Ringo refused to give him the map.

"Richie, love, just let me have a look," George said again with an aspirated sigh, reaching for it, but Ringo swiftly moved it out of his reach, stubbornly refusing any of his help.

"No. I can do this. I just need to- I think we have to go right here and then left and then another... no... first left and then right. Or is that left?" He was muttering angrily to himself, hopelessly turning the map around a few times in his hands. George groaned in slight annoyance at his boyfriend's stubbornness and reached over Ringo's shoulder to grasp it from his fingers instead. Once he had it, he swiftly turned around before Ringo could take it back.

"Hey! I almost had it!" Ringo protested, but George already wasn't listening anymore. He quickly found the hotel Ringo had found for them and was delighted to note it was right in the centre of the city. It would be a bit of a walk, but nothing they wouldn't be able to handle. He quickly figured out the way to walk and within a minute they were on their way, Ringo silently sulking at his inadequate map reading skills and at George for being a cheat. George, however, was feeling quite smug, glad to have found something he was better at than Ringo, even if it was only a stupid little thing.

"The hotel was supposed to be a surprise, you know," Ringo murmured beside him, but George only smiled back at him, trying to ignore the way Ringo was glaring at him, knowing he didn't truly mean it.

"It still is, love. It's only the location. I know nothing of the actual hotel. Besides, this entire trip is kind of a surprise already," he told him and that seemed to cheer Ringo up a bit. He quickened his pace and from the corner of his eyes, George could see he was smiling again, even though he was trying to hide it from him. It was really rather flattering that Ringo would want to surprise him so badly. He was adorable and George found himself loving the man just a little bit more because of it. He reached for the man's free hand and took it into his own to hold as they walked through the city streets, watching in slight awe at the beautiful, old buildings and the monuments that seemed to be scattered all over the place. Rome truly was a beautiful city and George could hardly wait to go explore in the morning after a good night's sleep and a warm shower; he even smelled of airplane.

"Can I have the map back now?" Ringo carefully asked. "I think I can-"

"No," George quickly interrupted him, already having made up his mind about Ringo and maps. "You can, however, carry my suitcase if you want to carry something so badly." He tried not to laugh as Ringo mumbled a curse at him.

               The hotel was as impressive as Ringo had promised him it would be. It was a grand old building, standing just a few streets away from the Trevi Fountain with the Pantheon and Piazza Navona on the one side and the Spanish Steps on the other. The River Tiber was only a few minutes' walk away, which would make for a wonderful evening walk, George thought. The reception was as impressive as the location, with high ceilings, clean white walls, a marble floor, and an expensive glass chandelier hanging right in the middle of the room. There was a large, stone, white desk at the end of the room with the logo of the hotel printed behind them on the wall. The seating contained of a couple of comfortable-looking couches of a soft light pink fabric that simply begged you to have a seat - something George wasn't about to say no to. His feet were aching already, which didn't promise much good for the coming days.

He took a seat and picked up one of the sweets that laid in a bowl on the coffee table before the couch and had a good look around the reception hall to take it all in as Ringo checked them in and got them their keys. The sweet itself wasn't anything special, but George took another one just because he could. It took Ringo some time to check them in, but he finally managed and whistled at George to let him know he could come. George took both their suitcases - one in each hand - and carried them over where Ringo was waiting for him with the key. The receptionist led them to the ancient-looking (and seemingly not very trustworthy) lift and wished them a pleasant stay, before returning to her desk. Of course, Ringo refused to let him know where their room was under the pretence that it was a 'surprise'. George indulged him, but hoped this was one of the last 'surprises' he was going to have on this holiday. They were becoming rather annoying. Slowly, and with quite some noise from the whirring of the cables, the creaking of the wood and the clanking of the iron, they went up a couple of floors and both he and Ringo seemed to be relieved to finally get out of the lift.

The corridors were styled in a similar fashion as the downstairs, but the flooring was now of a crème carpet, making the dragging of their suitcases a bit heavier. When they finally stopped before a door, George was eager to get inside and see just what Ringo was being so mysterious about. Ringo glanced back at him once more and grinned at the excited look on his boyfriend's face, before turning the key in the lock and opening the door. Eager to see, George pushed past Ringo and stepped into the room, only to gasp.

The room was huge. Far more so than George had expected. He had thought it would turn out to be a room with only just a bed and a closet in there with a door to the en-suite that you could only barely open before it would get stuck against the bed frame. What he was looking at, however, was something completely different. The flooring was of a rich oak with broad floorboards. The walls were a very light pink and the ceiling was once again high and perfectly white. The room had two large windows with beautifully draped crème curtains that reached all the way to the floor. A huge king-size bed was pushed against a wall, looking out of one of the windows, made up with too many of the fluffiest pillows, and on either side a bedside table with flowers on them. In the middle of the bed, there lay a bottle of white wine with two glasses. On the other side of the room was a small little couch that could be more aptly described as a love-seat and an oaken desk with a bowl of the same sweets and an espresso machine on top of it. There was one more door that led to the en-suite bathroom, which was even more beautiful. It consisted of a large bathtub that could easily fit two people, a shower, a toilet, and a double sink. Both the walls and the floor were of a rich sand-coloured marble. On the sink were four large fluffy towels and the usual bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body lotion and bath foam, as well as a bar of soap. It was beyond anything that George had dared to imagine.

"Richie..." he exclaimed, not knowing what else to say. He felt Ringo's hands on his shoulders and he wanted to turn around to kiss the man silly, but he could not look away from their room.

"I told you I only wanted the best for you," the older man whispered tenderly in his ear before pressing a sweet kiss to the man's cheek, making him flush. Finally, George found it within himself to look away from the gorgeous bathroom and turn around to the even more beautiful man and kiss him forcefully as a thank you. When he pulled away, however, he hit him on the arm.

"Eh! What was that for?!" Ringo asked, staring at the spot on his arm that George had hit and rubbing it before looking back at George.

"You fucking idiot. How dare you spend so much money on me?!" George told him sternly, but there was laughter in his voice that quickly took over and he jumped into Ringo's arms, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him close as he kissed him again. Confused, Ringo kissed him back hesitantly, unsure if he had done well or bad. When George pulled away and looked down into his eyes with adoration and wonder, he realised he had done more than well. He cupped the man's head in both his hands and kissed him again.

"You're worth every penny," he whispered, and George burst out in laughter, leaving Ringo confused as to what was supposed to be funny.

"I have been told that, yes," George said, and finally, it clicked and he had to chuckle too.

               The city was even more beautiful at night than it had been when they had arrived. It was still peaceful and quiet on the streets as the holiday season had not yet fully begun and winter was now fully setting in. It was still about nine degrees, so for George and him it was still fairly warm in comparison to England. George had been walking around with a huge grin on his handsome face and sparkling eyes all evening, which Ringo supposed was a good sign and that he had done something good by choosing that hotel. In truth, it hadn't been that expensive, as he had managed to make a good deal on it. It had cost him much more than he would normally like to spend on holidays that were only a few days long, but the look on George's face had been worth it. He hadn't even been able to stop smiling when that waiter had accidentally knocked into him, causing him to spill some of his wine (thankfully not onto his clothes). Besides, it would be nice to spend some days in luxury for once.

Dinner had gone nicely as well. George had liked the restaurant he had picked out, and though it mostly served the stereotypical Italian food, it was somewhat part of why they were in Italy in the first place, so he reasoned they were allowed to. It had been good and not too expensive. Ringo knew he ought to let it go and simply let George pay for whatever he wanted to pay, but he didn't want him to blow all his money on a holiday that had been his idea in the first place. Especially, considering how hard George worked for it. He didn't know how much George earned exactly, but since Paul had told him they didn't do it for the money, he thought it couldn't be more than they would earn with any other part-time job. George, however, didn't seem to have much trouble spending his money, as he had ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, which made Ringo wonder. Would it be rude to ask?

They had enjoyed themselves, though. They had talked about all kinds of things, even having little discussions on the most random topics, but it had been fun. The food had been good and the wine delicious and he would be lying if he said he hadn't drunk a few glasses too many. They had shared their dessert, a delicious tiramisu, which they had fed to each other as if they were in some romantic movie. It had been nice.

What hadn't been nice, however, was that George had looked absolutely stunning, and still was, in fact. Hair perfectly styled and slightly puffy since he had taken a shower before leaving the hotel, eyes bright and shining from happiness, slight blush on his cheeks, which only accentuated their sharpness. He wore beautifully fitted black slacks with heeled dark brown dress shoes with a simple deep red shirt and a crème woollen sweater to top it off. His long woollen coat had accentuated his best assets in the most sinful and distracting way. Needless to say, he had gotten quite a few looks, especially from their too-friendly waiter - flirtatious would be a better word. Ringo doubted his bumping into George had been an accident. He shouldn't be jealous. He knew that. Throughout dinner, George had only had eyes for him and had seemed completely oblivious to the attention he was getting, so he had no reason to get jealous in the first place, but he was. He couldn't help it, however stupid it was.

Even now, as they were walking arm-in-arm through the city back to their hotel, Ringo held on tightly to George as he kept an eye out for anyone who would look at George just a little too long. George, however, seemed to have noticed there was something bothering him, as he kept glancing at Ringo from the corner of his eye, studying him curiously whenever the hold he had on him became a bit tighter. Finally, as they stumbled past the Trevi Fountain, George stopped walking. Ringo looked up at him in surprise.

"Are you alright?" George asked, narrowing his eyes at him. Ringo swallowed thickly and faked a smile as he nodded. Right away it was clear George didn't believe him.

"Yes! Of course," he said, and George sighed as he unhooked his arm and started crossing the street and walked towards the fountain. Ringo watched him go in silence, staring at the beautiful man that he had somehow deserved as his boyfriend. The darkness of his silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the richly decorated and lit-up white fountain. When he started to descend the steps leading to the fountain to sit down on the edge, Ringo followed him. He looked gorgeous against the light of the fountain. He halted in front of him, unsure whether to sit down or not. When George patted the space besides him, he sat down.

They sat in silence for a while, George looking at the fountain and Ringo looking at George. The younger man reached with his hand into the water, mindlessly playing with it as he looked down at the many coins that were scattered across the bottom of the fountain.

"You know," George spoke after a little while, breaking the silence. "It is said that if you sit with your back turned to the fountain - like this - think of Rome and throw with your right hand a coin over your left shoulder, you will return to Rome some day with your loved one." Ringo blinked stupidly as he watched George take out a coin from his pocket. He weighted it in his hand, before closing his eyes and throwing the coin over his left shoulder and into the fountain. When he opened his eyes again, they landed on Ringo's.

"Want to try it too? Maybe there will be a bigger chance of succeeding if we both do it," the younger man asked him, and Ringo blushed as he realised that George had basically said he was his loved one. He knew that, of course, but this was different. This meant coming back to Rome. A future. He swallowed and nodded. His fingers trembled as he took a coin from George and held it tightly in his right hand. He closed his eyes, thought about Rome and George, and threw the coin over his left shoulder, like George had told him to. He had just been about to open his eyes again, when he felt a pair of lips gently against his own, kissing him.

"I do love you. You know that, right?" George whispered against his lips, hands coming up to caress his face.

"I do," Ringo replied, cocking his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss, allowing himself to melt into George's tender touch. Suddenly, however, those tender lips vanished from his own and he felt bereft.

"Richie, please look at me." Slowly, Ringo opened his eyes and smiled as he saw George sitting knelt before him on the ground, looking deeply into his eyes. "You don't need to be jealous." The smile vanished now too.

"I- I know...."

"I love you, Richie. And I'm here with you. I want to return again with you. People are going to look. They always will. They are looking at you too, but I don't care about them because I know you love me and wouldn't betray me. I trust you."

"I trust you, too," Ringo tried, and George bit his lip, looking doubtful. It hurt more than Ringo would have thought.

"Do you remember when I told you something bad happened to me at the club once? Like what happened to Paul? My story, as you call it?" George asked, his voice still quiet. Ringo nodded. As if he could forget. Then George got up on his feet, wiped some dirt off his trousers, and offered Ringo a hand to help him stand.

"Come on," he said as Ringo took his hand. "Let's go back to the hotel. I want to tell you something." Ringo nodded again and George kissed him again briefly before turning away from him and walking back up the steps and to the road. Ringo took a deep breath before following.