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When Ringo climbed out of bed at midnight to see who was at the door, the last thing he wanted to see was his boyfriend with a bruised eye and a bloody nose. “Oh god, what happened?”
Paul sighed as Ringo led him to the couch. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled.
“Are you alright?” Ringo practically yelled, letting his emotions get the better of him as he ran his fingers over the good side of Paul’s face.
“Except for this, you mean?” Paul joked, gesturing to his face. “Yeah, I’m…I’m…” He bit his lip as it started to quiver, and he blinked back the moisture pooling in his eyes.
“Oh, love, I’ve got you,” Ringo whispered, rubbing soothing circles into Paul’s back.
It was hardly a few seconds before Paul jumped off the couch. “I just need to wash up,” he said, starting off toward the bathroom.
“No.” Ringo grabbed his wrist. “I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to hide this.” He wrapped his arms around him. “You don’t have to pretend it’s okay when it’s not.”
Paul tried to move away, but just a few seconds later he buried his head against Ringo’s shoulder as he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I woke you up.”
“And thank god you did. I’d never forgive myself if I let you be all alone while you were bloodied up like this. Now, you just sit down,” Ringo said, helping Paul back onto the couch and draping the softest blanket he owned over him. “I’ll get you some ice.”
“Alright,” Paul muttered, wiping away some of his tears.
Ringo returned a minute later with ice and a wet rag. “Let’s get this blood off of you first,” he said, lifting the rag to Paul’s face. But before he made contact, he hesitated. “Do you want to do it yourself? I don’t want to hurt you more.”
“Rich, you’re the last person in the world who’d ever hurt me,” Paul said, cracking a tiny smile. “I trust you.”
Smiling back, Ringo brought the rag to Paul’s nose. He worked slowly, using the lightest pressure he could. Paul winced a couple of times, but that was unavoidable with the state that his face was in. Ringo was just thankful that the blood had stopped flowing so that Paul’s face remained clean when he was done with it.
“Is that a little better?”
Paul gently touched his nose. “Much better. Thank you.”
Ringo pressed a very, very soft kiss to Paul’s blood-free lips. “Good. Now hold the ice on your eye.”
“…It’s gonna sting, isn’t it?”
“If it does, I’ll distract you.”
“How?”
Ringo winked and handed Paul the ice. Sure enough, Paul hissed when it made contact with his face.
But Ringo didn’t waste any time. He grabbed Paul’s other hand and traced tiny shapes against his palm before kissing each fingertip. He continued kissing up every inch of Paul’s arm until he reached his neck, where he used his own fingers to give him a little tickle.
“Hey—stop that,” Paul giggled, leaning away.
Ringo chased him with his lips, finishing the journey from his neck to his lips. The kiss was a bit awkward with the bag of ice pressed between them, but Ringo felt Paul smiling anyway.
“How’s the ice feeling now?”
“Better.”
“Good.” They kissed once more. “Anything else I can get you?”
Paul shook his head.
“Perfect.” Ringo shimmied under the blanket as well and rested his head against Paul’s shoulder. “Good night, love.”
“G’night. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Their eyes fell closed as their breathing synchronized. Paul let the bag of ice drop down as he drifted toward sleep—but Ringo broke the silence.
“By the way…if you ever feel like telling me who did this, I’ll murder them for you.”
Paul sighed and shook his head. “Good night, Rich.”
“Ugh. Fine.” Ringo closed his eyes. “…I mean it though.”
“I know.”