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Ringo is aware how much a heating bill costs, painfully aware. Which is why he generally cannot heat his flat any higher than 18 c. But because he knows exactly how cold it is he has everything he needs to deal with it from hot water bottles to comfy blankets, to thick woolen socks. Yet for whatever reason, probably that he didn't normally stay at hotels, he had thought they would be different. Not to mention these weren't the crummy days of Hamburg anymore, now that he had joined the Beatles he was supposed to be off to bigger and better things.
But apparently the hotel hadn't gotten the memo, and he certainly haven't known to pack more than normal light-ish clothing. He is wondering if it isn't worth it to get out of the cozy cocoon he and George are trying to maintain in order to go and get his coat. But then what? Would it be better to wear it buttoned up over his jammies or just throw it on top of the blankets and hope it will make for an extra layer?
They had been horrified when they had entered the hotel room and realize exactly how cold it was now that the sun had set, so they had quickly shower to change and without any more fuss gone straight to bed. Maybe that's why the hotel did it, concerned about hooligans and miscreants that puttered around their own paid for rooms even if it was late. As was their usual George and Ringo tip and tailed. And George because he was a lovely person and nothing like the absolute wanker that was John was good enough not to shove his freezing feet against Ringo. Judging by the way Paul squealed like an absolute schoolgirl, John was not which was not all that surprising.
Ringo could swear his teeth were starting chatter and he didn't know how he was ever going to get to sleep like this. He wondered if the others were asleep. As casually as he could Ringo rolls out his palm to press it against George. George groans quietly as he barely sticks his mop top out of what little warmth the blankets provide. 'What you want,' George mouthed silently.
Ringo didn't even know how to begin answering that but it was clear his shivering body had not gone unnoticed. Ringo could swear George is shivering too. They looked at each other for another silent moment in the dark room before George slipped under the blankets again. Maybe it was every man for himself. Ringo was being foolish to bother George from whatever sleep he might be able to find in these Arctic temperatures. However that's not what happened because soon he could feel George shifting about in the bed until he turned top up next to the drummer.
George presses his arm up against Ringo's torso and instantly they sign at the feeling of heat from the other. Despite the doubtless sleeping neighbors to either side of their room John calls out from across the room at his normal speaking volume in a surly manner, "If you two are going to keep warm by wanking each other, could you be more quiet about it?"
'Would that work?' Ringo questions as the idea seemed so odd that he feels he has to address that bit first. George visibly rolled his eyes next to him before speaking back to Lennon, "We ain't, we just as tired as the rest of you, we're just freezing our tits off over here."
"Oh thank God it's not just me," Paul groaned out as he tried to bury himself deeper into the blankets, but he already had them pulled all the way up to his chin. Unfortunately there was nothing more these thin hotel bedspreads could give them. Ringo had thought perhaps that if they might be further away from the window and closer to the radiator they'd be better off but apparently everyone was suffering equally.
"Does that work?" John questions poking a hand out just enough for his index finger to wiggle between George and Ringo lying chest to chest rather than tip and tail. "Does body heat you actually make it better?"
"No I'm doing it because I love the sound of Ringo snoring, and I need it right in me ear," George answered rhetorically before sighing. "It makes it a little better aye, but I'm still a little cold."
John nods thoughtfully at this before diving under their covers. They wriggling about, and judging by Paul's squealing John was not passing meekly next to him, but probably passing with some rather inappropriate touches. It was times like these that Ringo was very happy to be bedding with George instead. He hoped the rhythm guitarist felt the same way about him regardless of the snoring jokes, there was nothing he could do about it or the honker he was born with. "Aw Paulie don't be that way you'll let me cuddle with you, won't you?" John says in his best feminine voice. Although the room is dim with little more than the street lights from outside to illuminate it, Ringo is sure the John is batting his lashes as he speaks.
"You know what we should do," Paul says as though these shenanigans aren't bothering him. They probably aren't, at this point he must be used to them, he has put up with John's nonsense longer than any of the rest of them, and he seemed to genuinely like that twat, warts and all. Not that Ringo doesn't something, only he doesn't think he couldn't deal with that much intensity that often, and much rather enjoyed John from their far more respectable distance. "If one person's body heat is nice, imagine if it was all four of us in a bed."
They let this thought settle with them for a moment. "But how would we all fit?" Ringo asks.
Judging by the wriggle of the blankets Paul shrugs, "I guess we have to stack up on top of each other, like the layers of sandwich."
"Aye I've never slept that way," John commented, "but birds have done it with me underneath so I don't see why we couldn't."
And then there was a moment of tense silence as they looked between each other and the beds. "But who's going to get out and go?" George questions. The very idea of opening their nest of blankets and leaving whatever little warmth they do have to scurry across the room and through all that terrible cold is horrifying. But Paul just shoots them a less than impressed look.
Obviously Paul and John are leader of the band and the main songwriters, while George and Ringo are closer to replaceable with their talent and charming to contribute. Doesn't help that Ringo had literally replaced someone for his spot. Ringo sighs as he scoops up the blankets the best he could, George gives him a withering look. Ringo just shoots back with a raised eyebrow commenting, "If you don't come with me, at the same time, it'll probably be worse." Which was true enough if he was to leave taking all the blankets with him George will surely be worse off than if he braved a little bit of cold while keeping the blankets about his person.
"On the count of three?" George proposes with quirk of his brow.
"I can count us in, aye," Ringo says with a sardonic smile as they both gripped tightly to the comforter and the sheet.
On the count of three, not to be confused with the count after three the two boys jump up from their bed and scurry as fast as their cold-stiff limbs will carry them, arriving with a jump onto the others' bed. Despite clearly hearing him count it down and other clear discussion about the subject, Paul and John, those considerate buggers, hadn't made space for them. This doesn't stop Ringo and George, if anything it made it more fun. As comfortable as landing on the mattress would have been, crushing their egotistical band mates is equally fun. They groan and moan as their soft fleshy bits are met by heavyweights.
It takes a bit of wriggling in order to get the blankets situated, but in the end Ringo and George managed to be under all the layers of the two blanket and the two sheets. They wait like that for a moment, the bed isn't quite wide enough for just two people to lie down, and so really what they have to do is have four people more or less one on top of the other. John sticks out a finger and poked it into Paul's cheek, "You okay down there? Not getting crushed?"
Paul doesn't just flippantly answer, he wriggles about and takes a deep breath but finds that he can very much bare it. As much as Paul looked scrawny, and has a face as pretty and as delicate as a bird's, especially with those long lashes, he is actually tough and grit, not just from growing up on Merseyside but also slumming it in Hamburg. So he finds the others' weight not very difficult to bear and informs John of such.
George, maybe because he is seen as the slightest, although he doesn't actually know if he weighs the least, had ended up at the top. He isn't complaining he is resting most of his weight on top of Ringo who is large and broad and most importantly deliciously delightfully warm. However that being said the part of him that was on the top, had only the blanket versus the terrible hotel room, and that part of him was growing cold.
They start to doze off like that, John and Paul seemingly the warmest and the most comfortable, but George unfortunately grows colder and colder. It is much better than before when he had no chance of going to sleep at all, but George find that he slept fitfully and was really only dozing, until he grows too cold to simply keep bearing it.
He grumbles to Ringo but Ringo is warm and dead to the world clearly. However his stirring especially his leg digging into John's calf, certainly got his attention who got Paul's attention, and they all wriggle and stir about. George is aware of exactly how much Ringo is not a morning person. He has seen Ringo wake up, get out of bed, answer the door accept the message from Eppy, then gone back to bed fall back asleep, and have no memory of anything he had done. So it's not surprising to them that although Ringo opens his eyes and stirs about enough to end up on top of of the Beatle sandwich, he quickly falls back asleep and probably will have no memory of this in the morning.
George is now comfortable and warm and quickly his extremities heat back up, until he's able to fall into blessed final sleep, however what feels like not long after he is woken up. He's not particularly much of a morning person either, he's pretty sure he will be, but for the moment he still too much of a teenager need anything less than tons of sleep all the time. But he's seen how his parents have become more and more morning people as they age, and he suspects that a similar thing will be true with him, especially judging by how much of a morning person he was before puberty. They shuffle about again until John is on top. Maybe John would is always playing and acting at being such a tough guy will be able to endure the cold and George can get some uninterrupted sleep.
This of course is not what happens. John wakes up and complains as well, at least it's good to know that it's not all in their head. Then while they are warm and cozy the three in the middle, whoever ends up on top, must brave the elements, which in this case is too much cold to sleep through. So if the other three do manage to fall asleep they'll be woken up again by whoever is playing the saddest slice of bread to their Beatle sandwich.
Because Paul hasn't done it yet, he goes next, but it again it doesn't last long. All through the night this shuffle goes about alternating who sleeps on top and suffers the cold and wait as long as they can bear until the other three have gotten as much sleep as they can ring out, before being woken up and shuffled again. John might be band leader or whatnot but in this at least they agree that only equality will do, everyone must suffer and take a turn at the top.
Because they are still so close to being teenagers thankfully when they do shuffle about they don't really wake up. Their eyes might open and they might even manage words, but in seconds they're back into the sweet embrace of sleep, and they have a hard time remembering of who is where and what exactly is going on or how long until it is their turn. Which actually is a system that works relatively well, certainly much better than heading and tailing in their separate beds and simply all four of them freezing and not getting a single moment of sleep.
Still when the sun starts to come up, and Eppy knocks at their door they are relieved to start moving about, getting dressed in their coats and scarfs, so that they might no longer suffer in this cold. Paul that optimistic annoying bitch, is the first to get up and when he slips out of the blanket a horrifying a sliver of cold air crawls into the cocoon. They all yelp and splutter at the horrifying sensation.
John is in fact so perturbed that he makes a decision. The best way to 1) punish Paul, and 2) get warm again is to follow Paul out of the bed and into the loo, where they're going to shower together. It's hardly the first time those two have wash up together, and George and Ringo know better than to make any comments. It's common enough with them living in such close quarters as they do, for one to be in the bath while another is shaving or what not. If they all had to wait their turns to use the bathroom, they'd never be able to get it all done.
John and Paul just happen to be a little closer than that. But George and Ringo simply can't begrudge them that because it seems so little more. Very similar to the concept of boiling a frog, they see nothing wrong with Paul and John's behavior, not just because they are open minded people that don't care about what people do in the privacy of their homes, or rather behind closed doors in this case, but also because it has been so gradual to them. Not to mention they have seen how John and Paul were always with each other. It is clear there was no one else that made the two of them light up like that, and so who were they to begrudge them such a good friendship, they could only hope to form such a strong bond of their own in their lifetime.
George and Ringo lay their trying to get the last moments of sleep. But what actually happens is that they grow cold very cold very quickly. Without the others' body heat they were both relatively on the top of the Beatle sandwich, and despite the rays of the morning sun starting to warm the world the cold was coming for them terribly. Ringo imagines that if they hadn't slept in this Beatle sandwich they would have ended up with chilblains.
George and Ringo look at each other as they bundle up in the blankets ready to make a mad dash for the bathroom. Chances are good that if Paul and John have ended up using so much hot water that the bathroom will have steamed up and be rather nice and cozy inside.
George lifts his head out of their blanket cocoon only to yell at the bathroom door, "You got room in there for two more!?"
Paul yells back, "Not in the shower but if you need some heat from this radiator sure."
Ringo sighs and shakes his head, with all the racket that they're making their sure to be waking up their neighbours; Eppy surely be cross with them. Ringo can only hope from the last time that Eppy punish them by taking away breakfast that he has now learned better than to do such a terrible in questionable decision. To say that had left George in a foul mood was to put it very mildly.
"On the count of three?" questions George. Ringo smiled widely happy, plead to always be trusted to do this small thing for his band. He knew he often failed them musically, he was just a drummer and not a particularly good one to say nothing of the fact that he couldn't begin to write songs but they trusted him to keep the beat and steady on. He likes to think he's very good at that and so with a wry smile he counts before he and George make the mad dash to the bathroom door. And my, how it's lovely in there. All toasty from the space heater and steamy from the hot water that Paul and John are enjoying. Hopefully the cold will melt from their bones, and their tour will take them on to bigger and better things.