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On days like these, George really hated having three boyfriends. He still loved them of course, but three boyfriends meant three times as many are you alright’s and what’s wrong’s. And all George really wanted was some space.
Huffing, he plopped onto the couch, slammed his feet down on the coffee table, and crossed his arms.
“George?” Ringo called immediately—George knew he should have been quieter with his damn temper tantrum. “You alright, love?”
And so it begins. “I’m fine.”
Ringo walked over to him. “You don’t look fine.”
George rolled his eyes on instinct, then apologized. “I just want to be alone, that’s all.”
“Not a problem,” Ringo said with a smile—then he sat down right next to him.
“Uh. What are you doing?”
Ringo leaned his head against his shoulder. “I’m leaving you alone.”
“…You’re literally not.”
“Yes, I am. I’m not talking.”
“You’re literally talking right now!”
Ringo didn’t respond.
“Smartass,” George muttered, but he didn’t push Ringo away.
True to his word, Ringo stayed silent and let George brood in peace. Somehow, the feeling of Ringo’s gentle movements as he breathed started to calm him down. He didn’t even complain when Ringo placed his hand on his thigh and rubbed his thumb back and forth.
Suddenly, the couch creaked as Paul leaned over the back, sticking his face right next to George’s. “What’re you two up to?”
Ringo spoke up before George could snap at him. “We’re leaving George alone.”
“…I don’t think you’re doing a very fine job of it.”
“We’re not talking. Care to join us?”
Paul stared at them for a moment before cautiously nodding. He carefully took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbed a magazine, and propped his feet up on George’s lap. Despite himself, George couldn’t help but smile every time Paul snorted, scoffed, or—even better—wiggled his toes. He even made a game of poking Paul’s foot each time Paul got too lost in the magazine to see George’s finger coming.
After a few more of Paul’s ticklish yelps, John came over to join them. “You’re not having fun without me, are you?”
“No fun here,” Paul said, keeping one eye on his magazine and the other on George’s hand.
“Yeah. We’re being grumpy with George,” Ringo added.
John’s gaze softened. “Is something wrong, George?”
“Shh,” Paul said. “We’re not talking.”
“Well that’s dumb.” John pushed Paul’s feet away and sat between him and George. “What’s the matter, dear?” John cooed, twirling a lock of George’s hair around his finger. “You won’t keep secrets from me, will you?” He batted his eyelashes.
Repressing a smile, George shrugged.
“Fine. If you won’t talk, I will.” John pressed his nose against George’s neck and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I bet I can cheer you up, Georgie,” he said, his nose and breath tickling George’s neck. “I’ll cheer you up way better than these two fools.”
“Hey,” Ringo snapped.
“I’m sorry,” John said with a smirk. “I thought you weren’t talking.”
George couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, leaning farther into John’s grip as all his tension continued melting away.
“So,” Paul said, “does this mean we’re done leaving George alone now?”
Still laughing, George motioned for Paul to come closer. They all scooted in as close as they could, showering George with kisses and loving touches.
George was wrong before. This was the best day to have three boyfriends.