Work Text:
“It’s blindingly obvious,” Ringo muttered, eyes on the pair.
“It is,” George agreed.
“What should we do about it?”
“What do you mean?”
Ringo dried a glass and put it away in the cupboard. “John’s never going to ask Paul out without a little influence.”
George leaned forward. “A lot of influence. He’s stubborn, that Lennon.”
The pair in question were on Ringo and George’s sofa, visible from the kitchen. Paul was playing something on ukulele, never able to stop the music seeping from him.
They could all tell John was infatuated with that fact. He hung onto Paul's every word, no matter how much he liked to pretend he didn’t. That he was obviously the leader. That he had all the say.
But Paul was leading him everywhere, driving him, acting as his muse.
“It’s so frustrating, the way Paul flirts with him and John doesn’t even notice. He’s not just blind, he can’t get a clue, either.” Ringo rinsed another glass. “Paul loves the man.”
“That insecurity of his…” George murmured.
“It’s not helping.”
“Hey, do you think he writes Paul’s name in his notebook? With little hearts around them?”
“John McCartney…” Ringo grinned. “I wouldn’t doubt it!”
George squinted down at his fingers on the counter. “Are you saying we should try and get them together?”
“I think it’s time. They’ve been doing circles around each other for years.”
“Hmm… we couldn’t just send them out on a date. They wouldn’t get it. And they would get swarmed.” Fans were getting crazier by the day. Their date would get press, no matter where they sent the pair.
“We could lock them in a room together?”
“They do that all the time.” George rested his hand in his palm, watching the couple on the sofa. “You don’t think they’ll ever catch on?”
“Catch on, sure. Act on it? No chance.” Ringo put away a glass.
“We have to do something.” George sat up straight on his stool. “They can’t do this forever… just acting all piney and such.”
A moment passed as they mulled over possibilities.
“We could- we could have someone pretend to hurt Paul, and John would be protecting him in seconds. You can’t unsee jealousy. Paul would swoon and John would catch him. All romantic-like.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it would go, George.”
George groaned, hitting his head on the countertop, leaning heavily over it. “They just have to be bloody honest with each other.”
“Yeah.” Ringo dried the last of his dishes and slapped the towel down on the counter, startling George. He ran a hand over George’s back soothingly. “Come on, let’s go fix them up.”
George’s eyes widened slightly in fear but he nodded and agreed.
They got to the living room and sat down. John had sat to face Paul, eyes focused for once, rested on Paul’s face.
They were charming together, had time for each other, each moment enriched with life and illusion. They were perfect for each other, loved each other, had spent so many intimate moments together, and still they pretended to be nothing but friends and writing partners.
Ringo’s heart ached for them, but he couldn’t imagine how much they hurt. Sitting there, obviously infatuated with no means to ever let each other know.
George sat in an armchair with his legs extended, fist under his chin.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Paul snipped, fingers working the fretboard.
George raised an eyebrow. “You two,” he answered honestly.
Ringo stood suddenly, making his way over to their record player. “Hey, remember this?” He held up their first record, Please Please Me.
“Look at our ugly mugs,” John piped, eyes hovering just above the record, nearly on Ringo’s face.
“I’m gonna put it on.”
“Why would you do tha’?” Paul asked.
“Relive our simpler years? Why not?”
“That was last year, Rings,” George reminded.
“A lot has changed.” He put the record on, setting the needle down in the middle of the A side.
I been told when a boy kiss a girl-
“Ritch!” Paul laughed.
“My only number needs some attention. I love this song.” He turned it up.
Well, I talk about boys! Yeah, yeah, boys!
George huffed with a smile. “Oh, this was your plan?”
Ringo pointed at him. “Exactly.”
Don’t ya know I mean boys? Yeah, yeah, boys!
“What plan?” Paul asked. “You two are acting pretty queer, yknow.”
Ringo grinned, settling down on George’s armrest.
“Doesn’t hurt to be mysterious,” George said.
They would get them somehow, no matter how much subliminal messaging they had to send them.
When the song ended, Ringo hopped up to start it again.
The others didn’t complain too much, letting Ringo enjoy his little spotlight.
But the third time. “Is this necessary? What’s gotten into you?” Paul asked. His brow was furrowing more and more as he tried to piece together how the others were acting strangely.
“Let him enjoy it. It’s not a bad song,” John murmured. “Anyway, we used to do that.”
A little smile popped up on Paul’s face. “Yeah, we’d play those songs so many times, trying to sound like the record.” He smiled down at the ukulele.
“I like this song, anyway.” John ran a hand through his hair, bringing his feet up on the couch, just inches away from tucking them against Paul.
“I do too,” Paul shrugged, having finally set aside his ukulele. “Sounds like Ritchie’s boy-crazy, but, yknow. Some people would really connect to it.” He lit a cigarette, offering one to John absentmindedly.
Ringo and George exchanged looks.
“Hey, you both still planning to stay the night? You know we don’t have a guest room,” Ringo asked.
“You two top and tail in yours and we can share Georgie’s,” John offered.
George made a face. “Pattie and I share my room! She’s already asleep!”
“Well, Rings can join you two and we can sleep in his bed,” John said.
Ringo held up a finger. “How about you both sleep in the living room?”
“Then I’m leaving. I’d rather not sleep on the floor,” Paul sighed. “And anyway, I want a bath.”
“Oh, I’ll take the floor!” John interjected. “And they have a bath here!”
“What’s gotten into all of you?” Paul squinted between them.
John sat back. “I’m not in on anything.”
“Tell you what-” Ringo shook his head. “You two can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the settee.”
“John already said he would sleep on the floor!” Paul piped.
George wiped his face, frustrated. “Just take the damn room! I don’t want to hear any more of this!” He stood, grabbing Ringo by the back.
They paced to Ringo’s room, letting out sighs of relief as they shut the door behind them.
Ringo went to his wardrobe to pick out his pajamas and dressing gown. His eyes went despondent suddenly as he closed the wardrobe door. “I have to sleep on the settee tonight.”
“Well, you did suggest it. And anyway, our plan is working. They’re staying in the same bed.” George crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Ringo looked around his room. “How can we make it any more romantic in here?”
“We’ve already got boys stuck in their head, I don’t know what else we could do.”
Ringo snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!” He stripped the bed of its comforter, wrapping it around his shoulders. He took a throw blanket off his desk chair and got George to help him lay it over the bed correctly. “They’ll have to huddle to keep warm!”
“It gets so cold at night! This is just evil.”
“It’s matchmaking at its finest!”
Ringo left a bedside light on, exiting the room with his things.
“Room’s all yours!”
“Bed already?” John asked, faking a yawn.
“Your- well, I mean, Paul? Didn’t you want a bath?”
Paul looked up from his cigarette, uncrossing his legs. It was clear why John was so in love with him. He was classy, and stylish. He had that demeanor about him that told everyone he was the star in the room. John wanted to compete with it. Wanted to harness it.
“Why not? I’ll have it now.” Paul paced to their dining table and left his jacket hanging over a chair. “Anyone need the lavvy first? No? Well…” He headed off for the bathroom.
John watched him go, stretching his legs out on the couch. Ringo dropped his comforter on him.
“Taking up me bed, are you?” Ringo tutted.
“I’m just visiting,” John yawned, pulling the duvet up to his chin. He smiled.
“You excited?” George asked, standing above John.
“Excited for what?”
“I know you’re excited, doesn’t he look excited, Rings?” George grinned devilishly.
John looked lost. “What are you on about, you two? You’ve both been actin’ peculiar…”
“I’d say he looks confused. Poor sod,” Ringo sighed.
He shared a look with George. George was doing something with his eyebrow that looked moderately encouraging, raising it and nodding down at John.
John sat up, squinting. Ringo quickly sat down on his left, and George on his right, trapping him in the duvet.
John shimmed in it like he was straightjacketed. “What do ye want?” he directed at Ringo.
“We just want to know if you’re excited about your night with Paul!” George broke in. “Sharin’ a bed an’ that.”
“We’ve done it before. We all have.” John was getting ever more confused and red.
Ringo kicked his feet a little. “Be open with Paul tonight. Take your chances.”
“You don’t mean-?” John’s eyes widened with fury, jerking his head towards the lavatory.
They had forgotten his temper. You wouldn’t be able to forget after Bob Wooler, could you? But John was sober, mostly, and of a sort of right mind.
He was baring his teeth, trapped under the duvet, trying to stand up, but was held down by his friends.
“John, look- you obviously like each other-” Ringo said, trying for a comforting hand on John’s shoulder.
John bit at the hand, hair flying around. Ringo held him by the back of the neck like an animal. “Fuck you guys! What are ye even on about?” His eyes widened and he stilled. “What did you say? He likes me?” He huffed with a little patronizing smile. “What do you mean? He’s in love with me? What a little queer.”
George’s jaw dropped. “You can be honest with us. We just want what’s best for ye.”
“And that’s being with Paul!” Ringo urged.
“I’m getting tired of all the marital arguments and,” George rolled his eyes, “the pining.”
“I don’t pine!” John’s head swiveled around.
“Be honest John, it's all the bloody time.”
Ringo’s eyes seemed to sooth John, and he calmed down, sinking back into the settee, breathing heavy, mouth open. He was bewildered.
“I don’t pine. I don’t even notice his eyes everyday.”
“Do you want to notice them more or something?” George asked.
“Shut up,” John’s chest was still heaving. “You really think it would be okay for us to…”
“Just don’t do it in my bed. Or you’re doing the laundry.” Ringo waved a finger in John’s face.
John released a sigh. “Okay. Okay. You think I should go for it.”
“Paul’s a catch,” George hummed. “In very high demand. And he spends most of his time with you. Just sending signals.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him tonight.” John looked convinced, but obviously worried.
“And we’re here for you if anything goes wrong,” Ringo assured.
Even with the ease and care with which Ringo said it, it scared John, and he was retreating back into his shell. Blinking hard, processing all this.
“Come off it John, he likes you!” George huffed, leaning back, resting his elbow on John’s through the duvet.
Ringo stood, tapping George on the shoulder. “Come on, get to bed. Paul will be out soon. You too, John. It’s bedtime.” Ringo lifted his pajamas.
“Alright…” John stood slowly, setting down the duvet softly. He took a deep breath.
“It’s all gonna be fine.” Ringo squeezed John’s elbow.
“Yeah, right.” John nodded, out of breath at the very idea of telling Paul.
It was a huge ask- confess to loving your best friend romantically? Ringo didn’t even want to imagine what John probably fantasized about, but he was already thinking about it. John was a sick bastard. But Paul was smooth to his rough, and they would even each other out perfectly.
-
“Shh!” Ringo held his finger up to George, glass pressed to his own bedroom door.
He could make out soft voices.
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Paul murmured.
“Have we remembered to pay them? Can’t even afford a heated flat, those two.”
Ringo’s brows furrowed.
“What are they saying?”
Ringo waved a hand at George. “Shush. They’re making fun of us at the moment… but I think it’s working,” he whispered.
There was some rustling as the pair turned over… or were moving closer to each other. Ringo raised a hopeful eyebrow.
A gasp.
“It's okay, let me hold you.” That was Paul.
There was a silence as the words covered the couple. Ringo could imagine Paul’s hands tucked around John’s ribcage, his head resting on top of John’s. Pressed together limb for limb, cuddling for warmth, as the thin blanket did nothing to keep out the cold.
“John must be sweating,” Ringo muttered, grinning.
“Did you hear something, John?” Ringo jumped in place, the glass sliding against the door.
“Hmm… must be the wind.”
“It’s not windy, Johnny,” Paul cooed.
“Some feral dogs then. Must be at the door.”
Ringo could hear the grin in Paul’s tone, mouth right by John’s ear. “Rabid dogs… sounds about right.”
There was a light smack- like a kiss, and Ringo nearly jumped for joy.
“George, George, they’ve done it!” Ringo whispered.
George grabbed the glass from Ringo’s hand and jammed it at the door, much too excitedly.
There was shuffling on the other side of the door. Rearranging.
“Paul…” John said wanly, before garbling a wild moan.
“I heard that!” Ringo whispered. “I said not-“
A door down the hallway clicked open, Pattie appearing out of her room. “What’s going on?” Pattie asked tiredly, shutting her bedroom door behind her, entering the hallway in her nightdress.
“Pattie!” George exclaimed, earning an elbow in the side from Ringo.
George passed the glass back to Ringo and scurried off as Pattie got closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” She asked, curling a hand on his chest.
“Well, I- uh, I was just going.” George tried to lead Pattie away.
There was another low moan, and Ringo shouted finally: “Hey, I told you, Lennon! No funny business in my room!”
Pattie gasped. “Is that John and Paul in there?”
George snorted. “Who else?”
Through the door, with no glass needed, they heard them moving- springs squeaking. In time.
“I’m going in there,” Ringo put his hand on the doorknob, and turned, George muttering away in the distance. “Don’t dirty the-!”
Paul was half stood on the mattress, crouched above John, lips bit together coyly. His eyes met Ringo’s and he looked almost caught. But he wasn’t. Not the way Ringo expected to find them. John was laying flat on his back under the blanket, perfectly decent.
“Really getting involved, aren’t you, Rings?” John asked, putting his hands behind his head.
Paul made another little jump on the bed, putting his hands on his head like a diver, or a silly shark, and jumped like a frog, head first, rolling across John. “Just practicing our aerobics.”
“You fools! Have you been pretending this whole time?” They really sounded like they were in love!
“Pretending to do what?” Paul asked, twiddling his fingers in his lap. He snuck a look at John, who shrugged, turning his lip up in confusion. “What were we doing wrong?”
Ringo put a hand on his hip. “You two were-” Did Paul seriously not know yet that John liked him? Paul who was offering to cuddle… who couldn’t notice how receptive John doubtlessly was to him. That just couldn’t be true. “You knew we were listening. You wanted me to hear.”
“You were spying on us?” Paul’s eyes widened, pouting. He nudged John in the side.
John perked up, laying a hand on his chest, agast. “I thought I trusted you, Ritchie! What were you listening for anyway?” John’s eyes were as blank and unreadable as ever.
Ringo passed the glass between his hands, and brought it quickly behind his back. “I just heard you complaining about the cold, I was just about to get you another blanket!” Ringo smiled tightly.
“Good hosts listen in, then?” John urged, tucked behind Paul’s back.
“Aye, only the best for my guests!” Ringo backed out of the room, two sets of eyes watching him closely as he did. He shut the door quickly, taking a deep breath.
He put the glass back in the cupboard and sat down on his be- settee. He sighed and lied back, wrapping his duvet around himself, not bothering to take off his nightgown.
What was up with that pair? They were pretending because Ringo was listening? Was John not into Paul? Had Ringo made it awkward? No, there was definitely something there, but… they were denying it. They must not realize that they love each other yet.
That made Ringo smile at least. Maybe they just needed more time. He reached up and shut off his lamp, letting himself relax and fall asleep happily.
-
Groggy, Ringo wiped his face. He groaned, walking off the settee on his hands, stretching out his body as he met the cold floor. He pressed his face against it. It was the shock he needed to get up. He had been needing a wee for the last ten minutes, but was too caught up in a dream to bother. It was still dark out. He hadn’t been asleep too long. He stood, crossing his arms over his chest as he shivered from the cold.
He padded across the flat towards the bathroom, pausing outside his room, his mind wandering. There was something he was forgetting. Oh! He’d forgotten to give that extra blanket to Lennon-McCartney!
Piss first. McLennon second, Ringo reasoned.
Just as he was about to take another step, he heard a voice.
“Just beautiful, you are,” John grunted.
“Hh- John, Ringo did seem pretty serious about the sheets.”
“He said we could do the laundry after. Promised.”
“Well… that’s okay then.”
“I didn’t take you as coy, anyway,” John laughed.
Ringo jumped up as Paul whined out, and booked it to the loo.
Okay- okay- they’d done it at least. Their plan worked… Ringo sighed in relief, and nearly jumped for joy when he got out of the lavvy. They were together! The agony spent watching them dance around each other every day would be over.
He stopped by the linen cupboard, grinning as he pulled a thick blanket from a shelf.
Nearly skipping back to his room he raised his fist to knock on the door, and nearly slipped out a cheery “room service!” before he remembered what was happening. There was a cacophony of sounds coming through the door.
Ringo blushed and stepped away, grinning. They were happy.
He wrapped himself in the blanket and laid back down, cozying up with the duvet. He was warm, and slept well. He didn’t even have nightmares about the new, even stronger Lennon-McCartney alliance.
-
“Bingo… best be bup bud.”
Someone was poking his cheek, and Ringo twitched, moving away from it.
“Aw, he looks so cozy.” That was Paul, accompanied by a cloud of smoke, settling over Ringo.
Ringo blinked his eyes open blearily.
“Right cozy, all tucked up. Hogging all the blankets, son?” John asked, leaning over Ringo.
The pair were standing above Ringo, staring down at him with kind, almost scary smiles.
“What?” Ringo coughed.
“We heard you last night- getting yourself blankets while we were left to huddle for warmth. We had to huddle, didn’t we?” Paul raised his eyebrows, looking to John.
John crossed his arms. “I’m surprised you don’t keep penguins with this temperature.”
“Still cold?” Paul wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders, bringing him into his side. “Not very hospitable of you, Rings.”
“I-I was going to give it to you, but you were busy!”
John raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”
Ringo’s chin wobbled. “Well-”
“Yeah, yeah, boys!” George walked into the living room, cheering. “Glad you two finally got your shit together and fucked.”
“Thanks Georgie!” John held up his hand for a high five, smiling, and George rushed over to smack it.
“Anyway, Rings, we were wondering where your linen cupboard was,” Paul said. He nodded towards Ringo’s room, nose crinkling, a smug grin on his face. “Sheets.”
“Right this way,” Ringo sat up, sighing. He grinned as he stood, the pair attached at the hip, moving to let him up. “I’m glad you finally worked this out.” Ringo wagged a finger between them.
Paul smiled softly. “I am too. Thank you, Ritchie. For helping.”
John nodded silently along.
“You’re welcome,” Rimgo stepped forward, wrapping them both in a hug. “I’m so happy.” He grinned, gripping them tight, shaking them nearly. Paul huffed in his ear happily.
John was blushing, and when he was released from the hug he tried to step away. Paul pulled him in, giggling and brushing his hand along John’s face. “It’s okay, Johnny.”
“It’s not. I’ve got all these eyes on me.” He glanced around at the room.
“You always have.” Paul kissed him chastly, holding him by the waist. “You’ve always been special, Johnny.”
“It’s going to be like this now, isn’t it?” George whispered into Ringo’s ear.
“It’s better, isn’t it?” Ringo shrugged. “Better than watching them hover and linger and never do anything.”
“Really?” George nudged Ringo, and he focused back on the pair.
Paul had John’s face in his hands, gripping him tightly as they kissed. John’s hands wandered down Paul’s backside, pressing them closer to each other. Paul was kissing with fervor, taking in big breaths of air in excitement to pry John open.
Ringo’s face tinted. “We’re gonna need to set some rules.”
“Go on!” George pushed him.
“Later. Let them enjoy it for a moment.”
They turned away from the couple, blushing as they retreated into the kitchen, resuming their positions from the night before. A bowl of cereal materialized in George’s hands in seconds, and he was sitting munching as Ringo poured himself a glass of water.
George watched as John pushed Paul onto the settee. Paul’s hands dug into John’s hair as they folded together.
George sighed and grimaced. “I’m not sure I’m hungry anymore.”
“What! I’ve never heard that from you before.” Ringo turned to look at the couple and their wandering hands. “Love birds! They have been repressing this for years.”
“That’s true.” George took a bite of his cereal, taking his eyes off the pair. “Glad we could do some good.”
“Yeah… the world is right now.” Ringo grinned.
George nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, they were meant to be. They’re gonna be great…” George squinted suddenly. “Hey, that’s too far, isn’t it?” George pointed with his spoon.
Ringo looked over his shoulder. “Oh, for the love of-”