Archive of Our Own

The dark clouds that had rolled in so suddenly showed no sign of moving on. Ringo’s arm dangled from his window. Heavy drops of rain hit his sleeve, soaking through to his skin. He left it hanging there, almost hoping that the longer he kept his arm in the rain, the sooner the clouds would clear. It didn’t work like that, of course, and Ringo was stuck with a wet arm and a grey sky.

And no boyfriend in his bed.

He and Paul had agreed to hang out at Ringo’s place, get cosy under his blanket, and watch a movie together. But the rain had come so quickly and so heavily, it was threatening to flood the entire town. Ringo wouldn’t be surprised if it did . So when Paul’s text came, apologising for not being able to come over, Ringo wasn’t surprised. This was no weather to drive in.

Ringo had pulled his shirt off, the sleeve now too wet for him to wear it comfortably, when his phone buzzed again. Another text from Paul.

Online date? Let me make it up to you. Call me

The corners of Ringo’s mouth tugged into a smile. What else was he going to do tonight, watch that movie on his own? He swiftly moved over to his desk to open his laptop, and within minutes, he was setting up a video call with Paul. He thought he would have enough time to pull on another shirt, but Paul had answered instantly. The other man’s eyebrows raised at Ringo’s state of undress, a smirk on his lips.

“Hullo, love. Am I happy to see you.”

Ringo laughed, leaning away from the camera to rummage through his drawers. “Cheeky. I got all wet, awrite?”

“Gettin’ ready for me, were you?”

Ringo tugged the dry shirt over his head, cheeks flushed. Paul wasn’t very flirtatious in public, but in private , he was a demon with the face of a cherub. He picked up his laptop and carried Paul over to the bed.

“Aye, just for you, Macca. And now you’ve got me in bed. What’s next in your filthy plan?”

Paul took a moment to think, leaning on his desk, chin resting on his hands. The way he pouted, eyes rolled up to the ceiling and eyelashes on full display, made Ringo’s heart soar as he sunk further into his mattress.

“Well,” Paul hummed with a mischievous smile. “I could have you do plenty. Wouldn’t mind watchin’.”

“Proper filthy,” Ringo tutted. He rested the laptop on his windowsill, finally closing the window behind it, and pulled his blanket over his shoulders in a warm cocoon. “I don’t want nothin’ dirty tonight, Paulie.”

“Awrite, awrite,” Paul sighed. “I get it. When you said ‘Netflix and chill’, you actually meant it.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, just watching each other. Ringo’s gaze wandered over Paul’s face, his cupid’s bow lips and sleepy doe eyes. He was more gorgeous than anyone Ringo had met before, bird or bloke. How had Paul ended up with Ringo , of all people?

Paul was the one who broke the silence, his voice low and quiet. “You look cosy.”

“I am. It’d be more comfortable with you here with me.”

Paul’s laugh was soft, apologetic. “I wish I was there. This bloody rain, though…”

Ringo glanced at the window behind his laptop, rain pounding just as heavy as before. “I know. Bloody rubbish.”

Before Ringo knew it, he was the one being carried. Paul had stood and walked himself into his own bed, then pulled the covers over both himself and his laptop. “C’mon, Richie,” he urged. “Get in bed with me.”

Well, how could Ringo say no to that? He moved the laptop onto his mattress and lay beside it, pulling his own duvet over himself. With the two of them lying on their sides like this, it almost felt like they were in bed together. Almost. Ringo wanted to run his fingers through Paul’s hair, kiss his neck, pull him close and breathe him in. This was a decent substitute, but no replacement for the real thing.

His thick blanket was enough to filter most of the noise from the storm, reducing it to an afterthought in Ringo’s mind. All he could focus on was his lovely Paul. His lovely lips. His lovely eyes.

“I love you,” Ringo whispered.

Paul’s smile grew, and he whispered back. “I love you, too.”