Carry That Weight: Chapter 1
Title: Carry that Weight: Involving a Particular Rory Storm or; Remembering
Author: ofsarcasm
Fandom: The Beatles
Pairing: Ringo/Other(for now) Ringo/George Ringo/Paul Ringo/John
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: Crack, Love pentagons, suggestive language, foul language, and terrible grammar.
Disclaimer: Strawberry Fields, Nothing is Real, and I own Nothing not even lyrics.
Summary: A Reflection on all the (important) affairs (with men) that shaped a one Richard Starkey. The first Chapter of an epic story of how the Ringo of today was shaped by his loves of yesterday.
A/N: This is the second pat of my story after my: Prologue
“So, I think I’m gonna go drum for yea now, okay?”
Words, stated confidently.
Words that would be remembered by only one party.
But not when it really counted.
Rory Storm would remember the words when he was surrounded by screaming girls, all there to see him and his Hurricanes.
Rory Storm would remember the words after pounding in and out of some bird, exhausted but euphoric.
Rory Storm would remember the words whenever he caught the one who said them staring at him with his
bright blue eyes and crooked grin.
And he would especially remember them when he was inside that particular young man, a one Ringo Starr, thrusting in and out both of them moaning all kinds of four letter words, except the one that really counted.
Because the truth is, Ringo Starr and Rory Storm didn’t Love one another.
( Richard Starkey was a kid who had dropped out of school and joined up in a gang. Alan Caldwell was an insecure kid with an evident stutter. They were separate in some way from those who surrounded them. So they were separate together. They accepted one another, and understood the other.
But acceptance is not Love, however nice it is.
And Love is not acceptance, because no matter how much you love someone, you always want them to be the best they can be, which they can never be, but you go one wishing for it anyway.
And Alan Caldwell and Richard Starkey, were loved by a lot of people. But they had only ever accepted each other. This was enough, until Love came along.)
Which is why whenever Rory really needed to have heard those words, he just couldn’t recall them.
Rory Storm would not remember the words whenever he saw that young drummer staring at a certain
George Harrison a little too long. And especially not when a certain George Harrison stared a little too long back.
( George Harrison first found himself staring a little too long the first time he saw him play in Liverpool, that new drummer of Rory’s.
He stared because of the smile. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Wow.
And that was all it took. George wanted him.
So George lingered behind after sets, hoping to catch a word, or even another smile of that drummer.
And he did.
“Hello, I heard you just now, and I think your pretty gear. The names George, by the way, George Harrison.” Fast, jumbled words.
“Why thank you very much George Harrison. I think your pretty gear for noticing.” Teasing, smooth sentences.
And in that conversation that lasted roughly thirty seconds, before Ringo was dragged away by a drunken Rory, they both knew that they desired the other.
But George, just as young and naïve and foolish as he was, didn’t know how to act on his desires.
And Ringo, was much too polite to throw him against the wall and fuck the living daylights out of him like he desired.
But even if they didn’t touch each other , Rory still saw the connection made.
And truthfully, he didn’t really care.)
Rory Storm would not remember the words when he caught that young drummer fooling around with Paul Fucking McCartney in Hamburg.
( Paul McCartney was not so polite as Ringo, when they first became acquainted.
Because the first time Richard Starkey met Paul McCartney he had some kid pinned against the wall of the broom closet ,and was currently taking him up the ass.
Ringo spluttered, as Paul let out a moan.
At the sound Paul turned, eyes widening, “Shit.”
Ringo blushed, and muttered a quick apology before he shut the door.
He had made it about 10 ft, before he heard a shout behind him, “Stop!”
Paul McCartney was jogging after him, zipping up is fly, his expression terrified.
Ringo didn’t stop, but instead walked faster his face bright red. Finally Paul McCartney caught up grabbing the younger boys arm roughly, and whirling him around.
“It’s not what its looks like!”
Ringo attempted to yank his arm out of the boys grasp his eyes becoming angry, his Teddy boy instincts beginning to resurface.
“When it looks like that, it can only be so many things!”
“No one will believe you anyway! I’m no queer!”
Ringo stopped struggling, surprised, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
Paul McCartney stepped back, incredulous, “You're not?”
“None of me business, is it?” He became embarrassed once again, and began to wipe his palms against his pant leg.
Paul said nothing ,but continued to stare at him, his mouth agape.
Suddenly Ringo reached out, and began to button-up Paul’s shirt.
“You look like you had quite a good time, mate.”
Paul smiled shyly before he reached up to finish the job Ringo had started,
“It’s alright mate I can-” his hand brushed against Ringo’s and their eyes locked.
It was around 10 minutes later that Rory Storm opened the broom cupboard to find Paul McCartney taking his drummer up the ass.
Rory just closed the door, and walked away.)
Rory Storm would not remember the words whenever the young drummer would come home, all sad and all quiet and all smelling like John Lennon.
( John Lennon had heard of Richard Starkey, and was damn sick of hearing about him.
George: He’s fab! I mean he just starts drumming, and wow! He’s just..gear..( John had no idea what that meant)
Paul: He’s cool, mate. Keeps a good beat. Great for a laugh. ( John was pretty sure that meant Paul was shagging him.)
Some higher power: He’s pretty much Jesus Reincarnate. ( Ok. So John didn’t hear that, but he was pretty sure that was what the world was trying to telling him.)
Jesus Christ. He had only seen the kid once, briefly, and he didn’t look to special, banging away on his drums between sets, frowning in concentration.
Not special enough for him anyway. And John Lennon needed someone really special. A special someone to save him from the darkness he felt in his heart. And this Richard Starkey was not that person.
Richard Starkey was not this person when George finally introduced them in Hamburg in mid October 1960.
Richard Starkey did not even pay him any attention, he was too busy looking for Rory, who had forgotten meet up with him once again.
Richard Starkey was not this person as he hung around George for about half an hour listening, his eyes sparkling, to all that the boy said.
Richard Starkey was definitely not this person when he snuck off with Paul McCartney to the bathroom, after getting George sufficiently stoned enough to not notice.
But an hour into their acquaintance, with all the gang gathered round the bar, gathered around, him, a one Richard Starkey as he joked and glowed, and beamed, John Lennon knew that Ringo Starr had just become that person. And as Rory Storm walked into the bar to the sight of his drummer shifting uncomfortably under the awed gaze of Mr. Lennon, he knew it was only a matter of time before Ringo Starr would allow himself to be that person, for that kid John.)
And Rory Strom would not remember the words, even if they seemed so familiar, on the day Ringo Starr would leave for the final time.
“So, I think I’m gonna go drum for ‘em now, okay?”
Words , muttered uncomfortably.
Words that would be forgotten by both parties.
But they didn’t really matter that much, anyway.
They didn’t matter the day Brian Epstein died.
( Ringo remembered Brian’s words)
They didn’t matter the day Keith Moon died.
(Ringo remembered Keith’s words)
They didn’t matter the day John Lennon died.
( Ringo remembered John’s words)
And they certainly didn’t even cross Mr. Storm’s mind on the night he died.
( He remembered the words of all the people he had loved.)
He didn’t cry for Ringo.
And Ringo never cried for him, or even show up at his funeral.
But on that day when Ringo spoke those forgotten words before walking out the door, Rory Storm waited until the sound of footsteps had disappeared, and then allowed the tears to fall and fall and fall.
Because, even if Rory Storm never loved Richard Starkey, it’s always nice to be accepted.
Author: ofsarcasm
Fandom: The Beatles
Pairing: Ringo/Other(for now) Ringo/George Ringo/Paul Ringo/John
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: Crack, Love pentagons, suggestive language, foul language, and terrible grammar.
Disclaimer: Strawberry Fields, Nothing is Real, and I own Nothing not even lyrics.
Summary: A Reflection on all the (important) affairs (with men) that shaped a one Richard Starkey. The first Chapter of an epic story of how the Ringo of today was shaped by his loves of yesterday.
A/N: This is the second pat of my story after my: Prologue
“So, I think I’m gonna go drum for yea now, okay?”
Words, stated confidently.
Words that would be remembered by only one party.
But not when it really counted.
Rory Storm would remember the words when he was surrounded by screaming girls, all there to see him and his Hurricanes.
Rory Storm would remember the words after pounding in and out of some bird, exhausted but euphoric.
Rory Storm would remember the words whenever he caught the one who said them staring at him with his
bright blue eyes and crooked grin.
And he would especially remember them when he was inside that particular young man, a one Ringo Starr, thrusting in and out both of them moaning all kinds of four letter words, except the one that really counted.
Because the truth is, Ringo Starr and Rory Storm didn’t Love one another.
( Richard Starkey was a kid who had dropped out of school and joined up in a gang. Alan Caldwell was an insecure kid with an evident stutter. They were separate in some way from those who surrounded them. So they were separate together. They accepted one another, and understood the other.
But acceptance is not Love, however nice it is.
And Love is not acceptance, because no matter how much you love someone, you always want them to be the best they can be, which they can never be, but you go one wishing for it anyway.
And Alan Caldwell and Richard Starkey, were loved by a lot of people. But they had only ever accepted each other. This was enough, until Love came along.)
Which is why whenever Rory really needed to have heard those words, he just couldn’t recall them.
Rory Storm would not remember the words whenever he saw that young drummer staring at a certain
George Harrison a little too long. And especially not when a certain George Harrison stared a little too long back.
( George Harrison first found himself staring a little too long the first time he saw him play in Liverpool, that new drummer of Rory’s.
He stared because of the smile. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Wow.
And that was all it took. George wanted him.
So George lingered behind after sets, hoping to catch a word, or even another smile of that drummer.
And he did.
“Hello, I heard you just now, and I think your pretty gear. The names George, by the way, George Harrison.” Fast, jumbled words.
“Why thank you very much George Harrison. I think your pretty gear for noticing.” Teasing, smooth sentences.
And in that conversation that lasted roughly thirty seconds, before Ringo was dragged away by a drunken Rory, they both knew that they desired the other.
But George, just as young and naïve and foolish as he was, didn’t know how to act on his desires.
And Ringo, was much too polite to throw him against the wall and fuck the living daylights out of him like he desired.
But even if they didn’t touch each other , Rory still saw the connection made.
And truthfully, he didn’t really care.)
Rory Storm would not remember the words when he caught that young drummer fooling around with Paul Fucking McCartney in Hamburg.
( Paul McCartney was not so polite as Ringo, when they first became acquainted.
Because the first time Richard Starkey met Paul McCartney he had some kid pinned against the wall of the broom closet ,and was currently taking him up the ass.
Ringo spluttered, as Paul let out a moan.
At the sound Paul turned, eyes widening, “Shit.”
Ringo blushed, and muttered a quick apology before he shut the door.
He had made it about 10 ft, before he heard a shout behind him, “Stop!”
Paul McCartney was jogging after him, zipping up is fly, his expression terrified.
Ringo didn’t stop, but instead walked faster his face bright red. Finally Paul McCartney caught up grabbing the younger boys arm roughly, and whirling him around.
“It’s not what its looks like!”
Ringo attempted to yank his arm out of the boys grasp his eyes becoming angry, his Teddy boy instincts beginning to resurface.
“When it looks like that, it can only be so many things!”
“No one will believe you anyway! I’m no queer!”
Ringo stopped struggling, surprised, “I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
Paul McCartney stepped back, incredulous, “You're not?”
“None of me business, is it?” He became embarrassed once again, and began to wipe his palms against his pant leg.
Paul said nothing ,but continued to stare at him, his mouth agape.
Suddenly Ringo reached out, and began to button-up Paul’s shirt.
“You look like you had quite a good time, mate.”
Paul smiled shyly before he reached up to finish the job Ringo had started,
“It’s alright mate I can-” his hand brushed against Ringo’s and their eyes locked.
It was around 10 minutes later that Rory Storm opened the broom cupboard to find Paul McCartney taking his drummer up the ass.
Rory just closed the door, and walked away.)
Rory Storm would not remember the words whenever the young drummer would come home, all sad and all quiet and all smelling like John Lennon.
( John Lennon had heard of Richard Starkey, and was damn sick of hearing about him.
George: He’s fab! I mean he just starts drumming, and wow! He’s just..gear..( John had no idea what that meant)
Paul: He’s cool, mate. Keeps a good beat. Great for a laugh. ( John was pretty sure that meant Paul was shagging him.)
Some higher power: He’s pretty much Jesus Reincarnate. ( Ok. So John didn’t hear that, but he was pretty sure that was what the world was trying to telling him.)
Jesus Christ. He had only seen the kid once, briefly, and he didn’t look to special, banging away on his drums between sets, frowning in concentration.
Not special enough for him anyway. And John Lennon needed someone really special. A special someone to save him from the darkness he felt in his heart. And this Richard Starkey was not that person.
Richard Starkey was not this person when George finally introduced them in Hamburg in mid October 1960.
Richard Starkey did not even pay him any attention, he was too busy looking for Rory, who had forgotten meet up with him once again.
Richard Starkey was not this person as he hung around George for about half an hour listening, his eyes sparkling, to all that the boy said.
Richard Starkey was definitely not this person when he snuck off with Paul McCartney to the bathroom, after getting George sufficiently stoned enough to not notice.
But an hour into their acquaintance, with all the gang gathered round the bar, gathered around, him, a one Richard Starkey as he joked and glowed, and beamed, John Lennon knew that Ringo Starr had just become that person. And as Rory Storm walked into the bar to the sight of his drummer shifting uncomfortably under the awed gaze of Mr. Lennon, he knew it was only a matter of time before Ringo Starr would allow himself to be that person, for that kid John.)
And Rory Strom would not remember the words, even if they seemed so familiar, on the day Ringo Starr would leave for the final time.
“So, I think I’m gonna go drum for ‘em now, okay?”
Words , muttered uncomfortably.
Words that would be forgotten by both parties.
But they didn’t really matter that much, anyway.
They didn’t matter the day Brian Epstein died.
( Ringo remembered Brian’s words)
They didn’t matter the day Keith Moon died.
(Ringo remembered Keith’s words)
They didn’t matter the day John Lennon died.
( Ringo remembered John’s words)
And they certainly didn’t even cross Mr. Storm’s mind on the night he died.
( He remembered the words of all the people he had loved.)
He didn’t cry for Ringo.
And Ringo never cried for him, or even show up at his funeral.
But on that day when Ringo spoke those forgotten words before walking out the door, Rory Storm waited until the sound of footsteps had disappeared, and then allowed the tears to fall and fall and fall.
Because, even if Rory Storm never loved Richard Starkey, it’s always nice to be accepted.