Ringo simply sat in his seat as he watched George hurry away. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, but his cheek hurt from where George had slapped him. He looked around the room, but didn't see anyone looking at either him or George, who had just disappeared into the bathrooms. He wasn't sure what to do next. He had thought he would have been glad to see him. After all it had been almost two weeks and Ringo had thought that there might have been a very slight possibility that George liked him. It might have been a naive thought, based on nothing else but his smiles and politeness, even though Ringo knew fully well George was being paid to be like that. Except, there had been something between them, but now George had hit him. He hadn't even said anything else but his name. What had he done wrong?

Ringo groaned and looked back at the stage, where some other lad, who Ringo vaguely recognized as George's friend was still making a rather lewd scene, moving suggestively to the music. Had George been mad at him for looking at the stage? For looking at the other man? It couldn't have been, could it? Last time George hadn't seemed to have any trouble with him looking at the other lads performing. They were after all doing their job and Ringo was only human.

When the baby-faced lad finally got off the stage, Ringo glanced at the bathroom again. George still hadn't come back. He had wanted to give him some time, but he still really wanted to talk to him, ask what was wrong. He got up and asked one of the waiters to look after his coat for a while. There was nothing of value in it, since he had his phone, keys and money in his pockets for the sakes of not getting mugged in a gay strip club, but he liked having his coat to shield him from the cold when he would have to leave again. The boy simply smiled and nodded. Ringo thanked him briefly before going after George, mentally making a note to hand the lad some money when he returned.

The bathrooms were surprisingly small, but also surprisingly clean, especially for a strip club. It consisted of only three stalls and two sinks with a large mirror behind it. Some toilet paper was scattered around the floor and there was some graffiti on the stall doors, but apart from that it was clean. The sultry jazz music could still be heard through the walls, although it was muffled.

Ringo saw George standing hunched over the sinks, his head in his hands. No one else was around, luckily. Softly, he closed the door behind him, before clearing his throat to get George's attention.

"George?" He asked softly, not sure what to expect.

"Please just leave." George grumbled back. He sounded rather tired. Ringo took a step closer instead. His heels clacked on the tiled floor and George swiftly looked up at him through the mirror. His face looked pale and his eyes were wider than Ringo remembered them. Smiling shyly, Ringo took another step closer.

"I thought you'd be glad to see me?" He asked, but George merely shook his head and looked away again with a sigh. Ringo swallowed at that. Had he read George all wrong? Had George really only be thinking of him as a mere customer? But then why had he hit him? That didn't make any sense.

"I'm sorry for hitting you." George apologized, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you want to hit me?" Ringo tried with half a smile, but George ignored it.

"What do you want from me, Richard?" He asked instead. Ringo frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn't sure what George was asking exactly, so he chose to say nothing instead. "Why Paul, but not me? I mean, you stay away for almost two weeks, and when you do get back to chose to look at Paul, but not at me?"

"Paul? What are you talking about."

"I want to know what you want from me. You always come here to drink and talk to me,but never ask me to do anything, which is fine, but then you do stare at Paul as if you want him to crawl between your legs and put his pretty mouth to use! Why Paul, Richard? Why him, but not me? I'm a stripper too, for Christ's sake. It's what I do! You should be looking at me like that, too!"

"I do, though." Ringo tried, but George shook his head.

"No, you don't. You look at Paul, you talk to me."

"It almost sounds as if you're jealous."

"Well... maybe I am." George uttered quietly, his body growing incredibly tense. Ringo sighed and walked over to the other man. George didn't move as he approached him and even when Ringo laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't care about Paul or any of the other guys on that stage. They just do their job; it's sexy." Ringo said, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I guess I just... like you."

"You like me?" George asked, a chuckle in his voice, not believing him. He turned his head to look at Ringo, a small disbelieving smile on his lips, which disappeared when Ringo nodded 'yes'. At first he only stared at him, but after a while he stood up straighter, turning towards Ringo with a confused look on his face.

"I don't want to get your attention by simply waving some money around." Ringo confessed.

He had to tip his head back a bit to look straight into George's eyes, the other man being much taller than he was. He had the urge to stand on his toes, to get onto the same level as George, to get a better look into his eyes and try to see what he was thinking. When George took another step forward, Ringo could feel the man's body heat radiating off him. They were suddenly standing very closer and it made Ringo's breath hitch. He felt himself get hot and suddenly the room around him seemed only more claustrophobic.

Still, he didn't feel the urge to leave. If anything, he wanted to enjoy the pressing warmth that he was feeling. It clouded his brain, made his heart beat faster, and the palms of his hands sweat. His hand was still lying on George's shoulder and Ringo wanted to do nothing more than grab it tightly and pull him closer. Only he didn't dare to move, being afraid he'd break the moment.

"I might like you too." The younger man suddenly said, breaking the silence. Ringo gave a smile at that, his heart giving a slight jump at the confession, and before he realised fully what he was doing, he was standing on his toes, his hand clutching George's shoulder and cocking his head to the side, as he leaned in to kiss him. He shuddered when their lips connected.

A moan escaped Ringo's mouth as he enjoyed the feeling of George's thin lips sliding smoothly against his. His heart was beating fast and blood was rushing through his ears. His lips were tingling and when he pulled away again, he could feel George's warm breath against his face. He opened his eyes again and found himself looking straight into George's sweet eyes. The younger man looked surprised, perhaps a little shocked, but far from disgusted or anything like it. His lips were trembling slightly and when he tried to speak, his voice faltered, making Ringo giggle.

Later, when George was lying in bed, he couldn't stop giggling himself. Paul and John had been looking at him weirdly throughout the rest of the evening, not understanding what had happened to change their friend into a nutter. Even when Brian had scolded him after closing time for hitting a customer, he hadn't been able to wipe the idiotic smile off his face.

Luckily, John and Paul had spoken up for him. John told Brian that it had been self-defence, making up a story about the man harassing George, and Paul said he had seen it had only been a light smack, nothing too terrible and that the guy had even seemed to enjoy it. George didn't try to tell Brian otherwise, knowing this was a better way of getting Brian to believe nothing was wrong, than by telling him the truth. Besides, he had no idea what Brian thought about customers dating the strippers, but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Eventually, Paul managed to save his arse by reminding Brian that the guy hadn't made a proper complaint, and that therefore there was no evidence to base anything off. John had chuckled at that and even George had had to bit his tongue to keep himself from giving anything away, especially when he saw the expression on his boss' face. He had frowned at that, but after a rather stern glare from Paul, he had given up on it and left it with a warning.

When John and Paul asked what had happened after that, George gave them a vague story about him. Paul had seen Richard, or Ringo as George now knew he preferred to be called, follow George into the bathrooms from backstage, but George had told him he must have missed him then. Of course, neither Paul nor John had believed him, but that didn't matter.

He wasn't ready to tell them about what had happened yet. Already, could George imagine how they would tease him about it. For now he simply wanted to enjoy the knowledge that Ringo liked him, too. And that they had kissed. And that he was clutching the other man's phone number in his fist. Ringo had very quickly scribbled it down for him, before he left, and had slid it under his glass for George to find.

George reached for his phone on his bedside table and quickly added Ringo to his contact list. He toyed with the idea of sending Ringo a text, but decided against it at the last minute, erasing the swiftly typed text and putting his phone away again. He was acting like some love-sick teenager. Besides, it wasn't like they had even done anything yet, except share a few kisses. Nothing he hadn't done before with anyone else.

The following morning it took George a few minutes to realise why he was feeling so happy. He hadn't felt this way for a long time. Especially not since he had left Liverpool. Not that he wasn't happy here in London, but it just wasn't the same. He missed his parents, the old familiar streets, the familiar clubs, pubs, stores and houses. Even his old school. He missed the smell of the city. The people and the accents which he only heard occasionally in London. Ringo had a scouse accent. Worse even than his own or John's. It had been good to hear it again.

He reached for his phone again and typed a quick "good-morning" message to Ringo, deciding he should stop worrying about whether he would come over as a needy girlfriend and just let Ringo know he liked him and was thinking of him. Besides, he had told Ringo he'd text him, because Ringo didn't have his number yet. He was surprised when he almost immediately got a reply back. He smiled at his phone and re-read the text over and over again before replying.

When George stumbled into the living room, Paul was watching television with a package of crisps in his lap and a coke in his hand. Paul smiled at the sight of his friend and jumped over the back of it next to him on the couch. Paul shrieked as George landed half on top of him, dropping the few crisps he had been holding in his hands. George laughed and Paul punched him rather painfully in his side, before going on his search for the other crisps. George merely chuckled at that and rubbed his side, as he curled up around Paul and sniffed at him.

"You smell like home." He said as Paul tried to push him off him.

"What? Like dead fish, cheap liquor and cigarette smoke?" He asked, sounding honestly offended. George chuckled at that and only curled himself even more around his friend, pulling himself against the other man and burying his nose in his hair.

"No... just home." He replied. Paul rolled with his eyes and tutted.

"Are you going to act weird all day again? Because if you are, I'm going to Jane's."

"No... just happy." George said, smiling when he felt Paul relax against him, giving into his friend's odd need for touching.

"What happened between you and that guy anyway?" Paul asked after about half an hour of them watching television together, as he handed him the bag of crisps, having had enough of it himself. George took it greedily without question. He shrugged at Paul's question as he forced a handful of crisps into his mouth.

"Told you. Nothing." He mumbled with his mouthful, not even caring he hadn't had a proper breakfast yet. Crisps could be a proper breakfast, right? It was made out of potato. Not that that was particularly breakfast-y. George didn't care, though. He smiled as he swallowed, before stuffing his mouth full again with even more. He could see Paul's eyes were fixed on the TV so he wouldn't have to see his friend eat.

"But before that. You did hit him." Paul clarified. George tried very quickly to make up an answer, but found he couldn't think of anything believable. Besides, he had known Paul since he was fourteen; Paul would see through his lie immediately.

"I might have gotten a bit angry with him for not showing up for two weeks." George admitted cautiously, nibbling lightly at a crisps.

"So you hit him?"

"Well, if he's staring at you rather than me, then yes." George snapped with a grumble, making Paul laugh. He blushed and hid behind the bag of crisps. He hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

"Were you jealous, Georgie?" Paul teased, turning his head to look at him, giving him a cheeky wink. George pushed him away with his foot and moved away from his friend, curling up on the other side of the couch. "Come on, Geo. I didn't mean anything with it."

"You always mean something with it."

"I'm not that mean, luv. You know I'm not."

"Well, I just don't like it when the guy I like stares at other people."

"Like, eh?" Paul asked, teasing him again. George flushed even more, before turning away from his friend passive-aggressively, muttering a curse under his breath. "Come on. It's not like I didn't know already."

"You're a terrible friend."

"So you keep saying," Paul replied with another wink, making George chuckle, "I'll make you breakfast, proper breakfast that is, as an apology for capturing your boyfriend's eye."

"He's not my boyfriend. Besides, he likes me. Not you."

"How do you know?"

"He told me." George replied without thinking. When Paul's lips curled up in a knowing smirk, George realised what he had just told Paul and what it implied.

"When you were having your moment in the loo?" Paul asked, still smirking, obviously feeling very pleased with himself for managing to get his friend to admit that.

"Piss off." George merely answered, but he couldn't hide his smile as he remembered the kisses he and Ringo shared in the bathroom. Paul had noticed, too - there was nothing the lad didn't notice - and slapped George brotherly on the back of his shoulder.

"Fucking knew it. Are you sure he's not your boyfriend."

"Quiet. Now go make that breakfast you promised me. And don't you dare tell John!" Luckily, Paul nodded and pretended to zip his mouth closed, before going into the kitchen to make breakfast.

George snickered to himself as he turned back to the telly and listened to the sounds of Paul making breakfast. As soon as the delicious smell of pancakes reached George's nose, his stomach started growling impatiently.

His phone rang, vibrating inside his back pocket. He moved to lie a little more on his side as he got out his phone, smiling broadly when he saw it was Ringo. He unlocked his phone and checked if Paul hadn't crept up behind him, before opening the text. It was a short one, but still it filled George's heart with excitement and joy. He wouldn't have admitted to actually squealing, if it wasn't for the fact that Paul had heard from the kitchen and came rushing back to see what was going on. He sighed in relieve when he saw George hunched over his phone and grinning like an idiot, before he jumped next to him on the couch and started reaching for the phone in George's hand. George merely tapped his hands away as he read the message again to be certain it was saying was it was saying.

Hey! Wanna go have dinner together? 6.30? -R

Sure! Just give me the address and I'll see you there... -Geo