Work Text:
“Ritchie?” George calls from their bedroom. “Ritchie!”
“Yes, love?”
“THEY’RE TALKIN’ ABOUT MY ARSE AGAIN.”
Ringo unsuccessfully tries to stifle his laugh. It’s not that George searches his own name on Twitter, it's just that the fans are constantly on the move. “Are they sayin’ nice things at least?”
“No.” But George sounds like he might be laughing. “They’re saying I don’t have one, actually.”
Ringo explodes from the loo.
“WHAT.”
“Oh look, here’s me,” George shows him a familiar photo of the crazy days: one of his magnificent side, playing his Gretsch and dressed in a great suit. But now atop the photo is a glowing red arrow pointed at his bum. “And that’s my alleged—”
“That IS your arse,” Ringo says indignantly. “It’s a great arse.”
George clears his throat and begins reading the caption of the tweet. “As you can see… there’s this… bump…”
“No no no no no stop talking,” Ringo tries to grab his phone as George laughs and ducks. “This is slander! Your bum’s bloody smashing!”
“Easy words for someone who’s smashed it plenty.”
“An' I’ll do it again, I will!”
Ringo manages to snatch the phone eventually, pinning his hysterically giggling husband face-down on their bed and immediately having to roll off of him. The ache in his bones subsides almost instantly, though. It doesn’t help that each photo in the Twitter thread is a different one of George posing delectably.
Of course George is always gorgeous, but old photos of George make Ringo’s heart flutter like he’s some blushing young fan with a crush.
“See?” Ringo scrolls to the very end of the thread, and the photo is that of George in simple plaid and jeans, tending to his lilies. Ringo has that one framed. “Ye do have an arse,” Ringo says and makes a point to pat it ever so gently, where it lays next to him in their bed. “And I love it.”
George laughs again when he sees the photo. “Kinda cut off, innit?”
“Not to me.”
And, grinning, Ringo delivers a smack to it.
Maybe the fans are alright after all.