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“Almost ready to go?” George called from the kitchen. Now that they finally had a break in their schedules, he and Ringo were going to hit the clubs. As much as George didn’t like the crowds, he found himself hoping for a large turnout so that he and Ringo would have an excuse to get close on the dance floor. “Ritchie?”
“Oh—yeah.”
George paused in putting on his jacket. That was an awfully abrupt response for Ringo, and his voice was much too quiet. After throwing his jacket onto a chair and flinging off his shoes, George returned to their bedroom. “Everything alright?”
Ringo was seated on the side of the bed, his eyes glazed over as he tried to pull on a sock. “Yeah, I’m—ah, fuck.” The sock slipped off his foot and he lurched forward.
George was by his side in a second. “Ritchie, what’s wrong? Oh god, you’re burning up,” he said once he touched Ringo’s skin.
“It’s nothing,” Ringo insisted, but he still slumped against George. “I’ll be fine once we get outside.”
“No way. We’re not going anywhere,” George said, guiding him under the covers.
“Come on, George. Don’t let me spoil your night.”
“Hey.” George kissed his forehead before finishing tucking him in. “We can still have fun.”
“How?”
Holding up a finger, George rushed back to the kitchen to pour a glass of water and grab a box of tissues. He set them on Ringo’s bedside table before crawling under the blanket with him.
“Careful. ‘m gonna get y’sick,” Ringo mumbled, his eyes already drifting shut.
“Nah.” George wrapped his arms around Ringo’s waist. “How’re you feeling? Comfortable? You want another pillow?”
Giggling, Ringo nudged his foot against George’s. “You’re sweet.” A moment later, he added, “I’m a li’l hot.”
“I’ll give you some space,” George said, rolling away—
“Nonono,” Ringo slurred sleepily. “You come back. Jus’ get rid of the blanket.”
“The blanket’s probably much more comfortable than I am,” George tried to argue, but when Ringo gave him his pouty eyes, George kicked the blanket off and held Ringo close.
“Mm,” Ringo hummed against his pillow. “Love you.”
George kissed his neck. “Love you, too, sleepyhead.” But Ringo was already asleep. Sighing, George nuzzled closer. As his snoring, sweaty boyfriend tossed and turned in his arms, all George could think about was how incredibly happy he was. “I really do love you,” George whispered, not caring that Ringo couldn’t hear him. “So much.”