"Paul! Damn it! Give it back now!" George cried as he launched at his friend, tackling him by wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist and knocking him down with him onto the couch. Paul groaned as he came down, landing awkwardly with only half his body on the couch, the other part hanging over the arms rest. Still, he held out the phone in front of him, as far away from George as he could, and tried his hardest to hit the send-button.

"Paul! For fuck's sake. Just give me back my fucking phone!" George cried again, but Paul only chortled and he finally managed to hit the button, before his head was pushed down and George started crawl over him to get closer to the phone.

"Yeah, yeah... Get off me! Here's your stupid phone." Paul mumbled as he tried to push George off him, but it was in vain. Only when George had finally snatched his phone back, did he slide off of his friend. Paul watched with amusement as George's eyes went wide as he saw what Paul had replied with.

"You fucker! You texted him back?!"

"I just thought I'd help you a little, my dear. Besides, there's no way you were going to refuse that date offer anyway." Paul replied with a self-satisfied smirk, curling up his legs and sitting down in the corner of the couch. George turned to him with a murderous look, but Paul had known him for so long that knew he would never hurt him. So instead of hurrying away, he simply continued to smirk. The silence was broken by the sounds of George's phone buzzing again.

"You're going to pay for this, McCartney." George scolded, as he unlocked his phone, his eyes still on Paul. When the younger of the two glanced back at his phone, and the corners of his mouth curled up, Paul got up and ruffled his friend's hair. George didn't even try to move away from Paul, as he continued to stare at his phone in disbelieve and honest excitement.

"You're welcome, Geo." Paul said, before he walked back into the kitchen to continue making breakfast.

George looked up at the tall building before him with wide eyes. He could not stop fidgeting with his hands and checked for the fourth time since he had arrived if he really was at the right address. The building looked old, but had once been beautifully restored and stood in a nicer part of London. George felt a little out of place. He was certain no students, let alone strippers, would live here. More likely the people who lived here were much better off than he was, with much more respectable jobs, who would quickly turn away or give him foul, but curious looks if they knew he was a gay stripper. George was glad he had chosen to wear something a bit more classy.

He was still mad at Paul for nicking his phone and replying to Ringo without even asking if he wanted to go in the first place. Of course, he had wanted to say "yes" and he had been so nervous about it that it would probably have taken him ages to come up with a good enough text, which would then have some kind of stupid joke or pun in it that would make Ringo probably lose his hard on very quickly. So perhaps Paul had saved him from that disaster, but that was besides the point. Paul should have asked. Maybe...

He took one last deep breath before walking closer and pressing the buzzer for apartment 24B, like Ringo had told him to. The name tag read: Richard Starkey ;) The emoji made George snicker. It took awhile for Ringo to answer and George glanced at his phone to see if he wasn't too early. 6.33 Right on time. Maybe he seemed too eager by coming right on time? Maybe he should have waited a little? Not too long, of course; he didn't want to seem rude.

Then finally, Ringo's voice sounded through the speaker: "Hi. Ermm... Come on up! I'll buzz you in. I'm on the second floor. You have to take the stairs. The elevator broke again. Just knock when you're at the door and I'll come to let you in." He sounded a little stressed and out of breath. He spoke hastily and before George had had the chance to say something back, Ringo had hung up on him again. A click sounded. George took another deep breath and walked into the building, pushing open the door and letting it fall shut quietly again.

The inside was less fancy than George had expected it to be. It had a plain white tiled floor, with on the right side a row of mailboxes and on the other side a large desk. At the back were two rather large staircases with two elevators in between. Both had a note on it saying "defect". George sighed in defeat and started walking up the stairs. At least Ringo lived on the second floor, so it wouldn't be that far up. Besides, stripping was actually a great workout.

When he finally got to the right floor and found Ringo's apartment, he rang the doorbell. Almost right away the door was opened for him and he was greeted by sparkling blue eyes looking up at him and a light smile.

"Hi." Ringo said, opening the door a little wider so George could come inside. He was looking a bit like a mess. He wearing a little white apron, which was covered in flour and something red, which was also in his hair, which looked messy. He was wearing a simple pair of tight-fitting jeans and a light blue shirt, which brought out his eyes. He had rolled up his sleeves to over his elbows, making his arms seem more muscled than it probably was, but George couldn't really complain. He looked good.

"You look good." It took George a while to realise he wasn't the one who had said so, but when he did he gave Ringo a quick smile and thanked him, glad to hear that his efforts had been worth it. Perhaps he should have trusted Paul the first time when he told him he looked hot. He was wearing grey jeans with a white shirt and a red sweater over it and a leather jacket. Ringo continued to stare at him for a bit, before he realised he must look a bit creepy and stepped aside to let George enter his small apartment. George stepped inside and looked around the small room in which he now stood. He guessed it was the living room. The walls were all white and the floor was a plain light wood flooring. On the wall next to the door hung a couple of pegs to put jackets on, so that's what George did. He could feel Ringo's eyes digging into his back as he took off his jacket and hung it on a peg.

"I er... I have to finish making dinner. Erm... you can have a seat here if you want to. I'll be right with you once I've put on the pasta. I will only be a moment." Ringo said, and George nodded with a smile and Ringo hurried back into the kitchen. At least he wasn't the only one who was nervous.

George took a seat on Ringo's couch as he looked around the room. It wasn't anything too special. Only the wall behind the dark grey couch was a very light green. On the floor laid a rug with the same tint of green in it and before the couch stood a glass coffee table with a chair in the same colour as the couch. On the other end of the room stood a small wooden dining table with four chairs. Against the wall, underneath a large window stood a record player, and although George was tempted to see what records Ringo owned, he simply remained seated. After a few minutes, a small black cat walked in. It stopped when it noticed the strange man on the couch, but instead of running away like George had expected it would do, it walked over to him and jumped onto the couch next to him.

"Hello, little guy." George greeted the cat with a high pitched, but calm voice. The cat looked up at him and when George offered it his hand, it sniffed at it twice, before giving a light meow of approval and curling up on the couch besides George, its body pressed against his leg. Smiling, George began to light pet it and soon the cat was purring contently besides him.

George almost didn't hear Ringo coming in.

"I think he likes me." George said as he looked up at Ringo who had taken a seat in the chair. The younger man couldn't help but feel disappointed that Ringo hadn't sat down on the couch beside him. But he tried not to let it show. Ringo smiled back at him, but shook his head.

"Don't flatter yourself too much. She likes everyone."

"It's a she?"

"Her name is Muffin."

"Muffin?" George chuckled as he scratched the cat behind her ear.

"It was that or Oreo. I guess I shouldn't have let my little niece name her." Ringo said with a chuckle of himself as he watched how much she seemed to enjoy the attention she was given. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Just a coke or something is fine."

"Coke it is."

George tried not to let Ringo see he was shaking slightly as he took the glass of coke from him. He smiled at the older man and laughed when he saw Ringo had sauce in his hair. Ringo frowned at that, and when he reached up to see what it was that had made George laugh, he felt the warm sauce in his hair. His cheeks flushed a light pink in embarrassment. Still laughing, George reached up as well and scoped up the sauce with his finger and licked off the sauce with a hum of approval.

"At least it tastes good." He said, blushing himself when he saw Ringo looking at him with wide eyes, his pupils already slightly dilated, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. He wasn't used to being looked at like that when he wasn't half naked in a sleazy club. It flustered him, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. It was good to know that Ringo still found him attractive now he wasn't half naked. Maybe he did like him for him.

"I'm going to finish up dinner. It should be ready in a minute or two." Ringo said as he finally managed to find his voice again.

"Do you want me to help you with something?" George asked. He would like to be able to do something other than just sit on the couch and nervously pet Muffin. However sweet she was.

"If you could set the table, that would be great." Ringo told him and George nodded, drank a little off his coke, before following Ringo into the kitchen to get everything he needed to set the table. He was glad dinner was almost ready. His stomach was already on the verge of starting to growl impatiently, even though he had just had some yoghurt right before he had left.

By the time George had set the table and poured the two of them a glass of wine to drink next to their cokes, Ringo was almost finished as well. Ringo told him to have a seat. He'd be coming soon. George hadn't even sat down for more than a minute, or Ringo's cat had jumped on his lap. Laughing, he carefully picked her up and placed her onto the seat next to him. She didn't seem too happy with that, but still curled up and remained where George had put her, but with her back turned to him. George chuckled and took another sip of his coke as he waited for Ringo. He smiled as Ringo came in with two steamy plates in his hands, both generously filled with pasta and salad. George's stomach growled as Ringo placed the plate in front of him, the delicious smell that came off it being almost too good.

"It smells wonderful." George complimented Ringo with a smile. Water was already filling his mouth in anticipation. Ringo smiled thankfully and sat down as well.

"Let's hope so." He said nervously.

"You don't cook often?"

"No... I wish I would, but normally I can't be bothered to be honest." Ringo answered truthfully and George smiled, seeing it as a sign that Ringo thought he was important enough to be cooked for.

"We could have gone out for dinner, you know." He still offered, but Ringo shook his head and laid a careful hand on top of George's which was lying on the table. George almost gasped as his skin seemed to light up at Ringo's warm touch. He took a deep breath, before slowly turning his hand to take Ringo's hand in his. When Ringo didn't take his hand back, George sighed in relieve and Ringo squeezed his hand sweetly, telling him it was okay.

"Well... Let's see if it's as good as it looks, yeah?" Ringo offered, and George could only nod in agreement, before taking his first bite. Although it wasn't as special- it was really just pasta with tomato sauce and a simple salad- it still tasted really good. George moaned at the taste and before he had even managed to swallow the first bite, the second was already in his mouth again, making Ringo laugh affectionately.

Throughout dinner the two boy laughed and chatted happily together. They talked about their family, music (they are both into rock 'n roll), what movies and series they've watched recently, George asked what Ringo did for a living and Ringo asked what George was studying and about his. Although normally George didn't want to talk about university or his work that much, he enjoyed doing it with Ringo. It was nice to talk to someone about who wasn't trying to pressure him into getting good grades or work hard, or asks what the hell he wanted to do when he was finished. What also was a pleasant surprise was how supportive Ringo was of his job. He had expected Ringo to try to hold back on that subject as much as possible, or at least to be slightly uncomfortable with it or get a little jealous, but he was honestly interested in it. He could laugh at all the stupid moment that he, Paul and John often joked about and laughed at the stories George told of clients or when he had accidentally ripped through his tight shorts and had to improvise in order not to flash anyone. Even when George said he genuinely liked his job, Ringo had not seemed put off.

After a while though, they lost things to talk about, so they sat in awkward silence for a while, eating their food. Occasionally, they would look up and their eyes would meet. They blushed and smiled at each other, before quickly looking back down. When George's foot accidentally rubbed against Ringo's underneath the table, the latter nearly choked on his food, and after that he was too embarrassed to look up again. When George finally got the idea to put on a record to break the silence, they were both relieved and Ringo quickly hurried over to the record player to put on his favourite album: The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.

They listened quickly as they finished the food, commenting every so often one what they liked or didn't like about a particular song, what other songs it reminded them of or little anecdotes about their own lives. Soon, they were both relaxed again and when George

Once the album had ended and they had finished their food, Ringo cleared the table as George put on another one of Dylan's albums and took a seat on the couch, where he finished his second glass of wine. Muffin curled up besides him again and demanded cutely that she should be petted, to which George naturally obliged. How could he say no to such a cute little animal. When Ringo returned, he could only laugh at the sight.

"Alright. I stand corrected. She does like you." He said as he sat down on the couch, right besides George, his body pressing against the other man's. George smiled at him and proposed a toast to his and Muffin's relationship.

"I really don't hope she'll replace me, though." Ringo laughed once he has taken some more wine. George grinned at him and placed a hand on Ringo's thigh and squeezed reassuringly.

"Don't worry about that now." He whispered before leaning in to give the other man a light peck on the cheek. It was supposed to be something to tease him with, but before George had had the time to pull away, Ringo's fingers were curled around his biceps, holding him close to him and when George did try to pull away, he simply kissed him himself. George moaned at the pleasant surprised and simply gave in, letting his eyes fall close and leaning into the other man as he kissed back.

"I'm glad you came." Ringo said as the kiss broke. He still had his eyes closed and George could feel his warm breath ghost over his face. He giggled, but quickly bit his lip to stop himself, telling himself not to act like a love-sick teenager again.

"You should thank Paul for that," he told Ringo, grabbing his full attention, "I mean if the git hadn't stolen my phone and replied for me, I would probably not be here." The older man frowned at that and opened his eyes, staring at George with a studious gaze.

"You didn't want to come?!" He asked and George eyes went wide at that, only now realising how it had sounded as Ringo didn't know the whole story. He quickly shook his head and turned himself more towards the other man, the hand on his thigh tightening.

"No! No, I just... I just get real nervous about replying and then I either fuck up or don't so..." George didn't have time to finish his sentence. Ringo simply silenced him by kissing him again, his tongue licking across the younger man's bottom lip. George gave into him right away, his free hand coming up to caress the small man's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb and running his fingers through his hair.

The longer he kissed Ringo, the dizzier he got. His breathing grew ragged quickly and all that he could smell and feel was Ringo. Ringo's hands on his body, caressing his neck and sides, Ringo's thigh against his hand, his hair between his finger, his lips against his mouth, his tongue curled around his. His scent filled his nostrils, making George swoon. It had been so long since he had been with anyone like this, simply kissing each other lazily with curious hands on the couch, not thinking or worrying about anything. Just enjoy and give and take. Ringo was all around him, in him. He could taste him on his tongue as he sucked on it, drank him. His lips were thin, but soft and fitted perfectly against his. He felt good sitting with another person like that again, Bob Dylan singing to them in the background, the cat purring peacefully besides them. It was as if their world had shrunk to consist of nothing more than Ringo's living room.

"Do you want to stay?" George hardly processed the question. He wished he hadn't, because he knew he should be going home soon. It was already late and Paul would be waiting for him, probably wanting to hear all about his date, and even worse, he had a lecture that following morning. He pulled his lips away from Ringo's reluctantly to tell him that.

"Fuck university. Please stay." Ringo tried again as he moved his lips to suckle on the skin of George's throat, his hand moving down to rest on George's hip, pulling him closer.

"I can't." George breathed back, leaning into the touch and cocking his head back to give Ringo more space to work. "Let's meet again Tuesday. Before work. I can let you in."

"Just stay... I- I can drive you tomorrow." Ringo pleaded, looking up at him with his huge blue eyes that George just couldn't resists. He tried, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Eventually, Ringo simply kissed him again and pulled him down with him to lie on the couch as they continued to make out and George didn't try to pull away to leave again. Not even when Ringo proposed in between moans they should move this to the bedroom. Ringo could drive him.