Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 20) ~
Title: Be Happy, Baby (Chapter 20)
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: George/Ringo for this chapter
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, sexual mentioning’s, homophobic undertones, mo’ angst
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, Ringo’s food is delicious. lol wut.
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Chapter 20! Hory mory! I feel like my child had just turned into a young man. Anyways, gets a little cracky towards the end I think there since I totally made up the newspaper and the article. Oh well. Guess this is sort of turning into an AT kind of thing.
CHAPITRE VINGT
Apres le concerto de Hollywood Bowl deux.. la matin.
This biscuit must be the Messiah of all that is golden and fluffy, because it’s damn good.
Ringo took another bite out of the delicious thing and tried to pinpoint exactly what differentiated it from yesterdays. It was fresh, again, and so was the butter it seemed, but it tasted so much… better.
He chewed slowly so that he could properly taste the biscuit, feeling sort of like one of those French food critics as he did. It was the same texture and solidity, same smell, same fluffy look, but it was only the taste that seemed more pronounced.
He thought back and remembered that his mother once said that food tastes like your mood or something rhymey like that, and he started to wonder if that was true.
Well, he was pretty happy. But he was happy yesterday too, wasn’t he? In fact, he was always happy, but his food never tasted quite this happy.
Ringo looked up from his inspection at the man across from him who seemed to be fussing over his own food.
The drummer felt himself smiling as he watched George carefully mix the right amount of sugar and cream into his coffee with measured precision.
Ringo took a moment to take the younger man in and observed him quietly. George had been slightly cranky all morning, but they were all a bit unwound from their consumption of alcoholic beverages last night so he didn’t really blame him. The man, although he was fully dressed, still had that just rolled out of bed look with his mussed hair and lack of a tie.
He examined George’s hair curiously, wondering how it actually looked like he had purposely styled it like that when he hadn’t even touched it. How the heck did he get it like that? The drummer was sure the messy look wouldn’t work very well on him or-
“Um, hello..” A voice suddenly said. Ringo looked up from his examination to see a young man dressed in a red bellhop’s outfit addressing George.
The guitarist turned and gave him a blank look, staying silent. Ringo, always the friendly little drummer, decided to save the man from the awkwardness that accompanied a stranger trying to talk to George.
“Good mornin’,” He said, smiling at the man. The guy looked a little young to be working at such an upscale hotel, but Ringo was never very good at judging people’s ages. “Er, Teddy.” He said, reading the man’s golden nametag.
The bellhop smiled at the drummer nervously. “Can I get you anything?” This Teddy fellow looked oddly familiar to Ringo, but he couldn’t put the face to the name. He looked like he could be half Hispanic or something with his slightly bronzed skin tone and his face showing what he recognized to be Latin features.
Ringo turned to look at George for his input but he was fiddling with the sugar jar, silently staying out of the exchange.
This was kind of a new occurrence, one of the hotel’s staff addressing them. He was pretty sure no one had asked them if they needed anything at all before this but Ringo wasn’t one to analyze things like this. “Uh, just this morning’s paper I guess.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be right back!” The man said, looking and sounding excited to be of use. Teddy kind of reminded him of a puppy, he could almost see his tail wagging back and forth as he walked out of the buffet.
Ringo chuckled at the odd fellow and turned to look out the lattice window above their isolated table in the corner of the buffet, still pleasantly surprised that George had automatically agreed to sit alone with him for breakfast. He constantly had this weird and fairly new feeling of possessiveness for the younger man, always wanting him all to himself. The feeling was sated for the moment though.
He watched an old lady enter a shop across the way, his paranoia of being seen by some gaggle of fans settled by now. The Beatlemaniacs still hadn’t figured out which hotel they were staying in, and he was sure they were convinced that the four were in the other one across town, so he really had nothing to worry about.
The drummer was watching some stray cat daringly cross the road when he heard the younger man speak.
“You’d make a good elf.”
The words took a moment to process in Ringo’s head before he slowly turned to look back at the man. Even after all these years, Ringo still never expected the bizarre crap that came out of George’s mouth.
“…An elf, George?” He asked him, clearly confused.
George nodded, looking quite pleased with his insight. Now that the younger man had finally spoken, he actually seemed pretty chipper, his crankiness seemingly worn off by now. Which was good because seeing George happy and comfortable was always a relief to Ringo. He wasn’t too nervous about the actual intimate acts the two shared anymore. After all, it seemed like they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other since that first night so no problems there.
No, it was more the morning or even few minutes afterwards that mostly had him worried. But even that was getting better. It was a little weird, but it was almost like this whole new addition of sex has meshed quite well with their overall friendship, it was kind of like adding a fourth leg to their table-of-friendship. Three legs were alright, but four legs just made it much steadier and safer to set your expensive china on.
The drummer should probably know better by now than to prolong these odd conversations, but fueled by George’s good mood, he did. “And why’s that?”
The guitarist was quick with his rebuttal, probably already expecting that question. “’Cos yer small and smiley like Santa’s slaves.”
Ringo was about to question George’s use of the word ‘slaves’ in place of ‘helpers’ but decided against it, knowing he’d probably pull the drummer into a discussion of unfair elf labor or something.
“M’not all small though, right?” Ringo tried as a steering wheel into a different conversation.
George ignored his sex joke and continued with his reasoning. “Plus you’ve got blue eyes. Elves have always got blue eyes.”
Ringo understood his logic, kind of, but wasn’t sure whether to take this as a compliment or what. “Sure I wouldn’t be a prince or something?” He chuckled.
George shook his head and said seriously around a mouthful of something or another, “No. You’d be an elf.”
Ringo knew that probably could have been the end of this weird discussion, but he ended up prolonging it before he could stop himself.
“But I haven’t got the ears to be an elf. Yers on the other hand..”
“Yeh, but I’m not short.” George said without missing a beat. Touché.
Ringo should’ve known he’d have more points ready to counteract should the drummer have any objections. He sighed. “Right. Which one would I be then?”
George was about to shovel a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Which what?”
The drummer’s eyes automatically followed the shiny silverware to George’s lips. “Elf. Y’know, like Snow White and the Seven Elf’s.” He said distractedly as he watched the younger man’s mouth.
George paused mid-chew and stared at him like he’d just sprouted seven cocks on his face. Ringo stared back and waited for the younger man to finish chewing, confused by the man’s wacky look.
The guitarist swallowed and lifted an eyebrow. “…Seven Dwarfs, Ringo.” He corrected him slowly.
Ringo’s brain suddenly clicked as he remembered. “Ohh..”
George smiled at him and lifted his mug. “You could be a dwarf or an elf, really. Neither of them’re very smart.” He said without a trace of mockery, tipping his mug back and taking a sip. Coming out of anyone else’s mouth it would have sounded like they were having a go at the drummer, but George obviously wasn’t. Everything the younger man said sounded so harmless that it was almost impossible to get angry at him for it.
Ringo decided not to say anything back, knowing it would only make George feel bad for unintentionally calling him dumb.
George set his mug down and was still smiling, obviously enjoying that Ringo was going along with this. “You’d be Happy, I think. But also Sleepy. And maybe Dopey… you’d be all three of those one’s.”
The drummer nodded, grabbing his own mug to take a sip.
“So what would I be? An ogre?” George asked, turning his full attention Ringo when he set his fork down and pushed his plate away. He leaned forward on his elbows and waited, looking like a child waiting for his bedtime story.
Ringo chuckled and pondered this for a moment, ultimately going for the obvious choice. “A prince, of course.” He was sure that George would make a great prince. Prince’s wear tights don’t they? Ringo tried to imagine the younger man in one of those royal get-ups, complete with and without the tights.
George wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Bah, that’s too boring.”
The drummer sighed, already knowing he wouldn’t get off the hook so easily. He glanced across the buffet at the other half of their posse. Mal and Neil were there, having finally switched to their same hotel like good roadies ought to do, talking with John and Paul. Paul seemed to be participating in the conversation wholeheartedly, but Ringo could see the passiveness on John’s face as he stayed silent. It was less scary but a bit more worrisome than the younger man’s previously sour mood.
Ringo chewed on his lip, still unsure of what was wrong with the rhythm guitarist, and turned back to the man who was staring at him patiently.
“Here you go, sir.” The little bellhop guy suddenly appeared by George’s side with the paper, his imaginary tail probably waggling rapidly. Ringo had honestly completely forgotten about him.
“Oh,” George took the rolled up newspaper and set it on the table, giving him a small smile for a change. “Ta.”
Teddy the bellhop lingered there for a few more seconds than necessary even after George had silently dismissed him.
“Need somethin’?” Ringo asked him, confused by the man’s questionable stare at the guitarist. The man being ogled turned his head to look up at the bellhop curiously.
Ringo squinted suspiciously when Teddy looked at him in a panic.
“No, um, sorry..” He was sure the man was blushing before quickly turning on his heel and slipping out of the buffet. What the heck was that all about? Ringo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a bloke check out another bloke like that in broad daylight before.
“So? What would I really be?” George asked, obviously not noticing the gay vibes that had been coming from Teddy. He looked back at the younger man, shaking off that weird fellow.
Well who was he to judge? It’s not like he hadn’t been doing the same thing himself moments before Teddy had shown up. George is one good-looking guy, after all. Now that he thought about it, George was definitely the type of guy that other guys would go for, Ringo obviously being one of them.
“Alright, you’d be an evil wizard disguised as a Prince.” Ringo finally said, quite proud of his twist.
George grinned, looking satisfied as well. “That’s good.” He nodded, but wasn’t ready to accept it like that, Ringo could already tell. “So why am I in disguise?”
Looks like story time again, Ringo thought to himself. They seemed to be making this story thing quite the habit lately, with Ringo doing most of the talking and George mostly questioning. It was sort of fun though, so he went along. “Well.. yer a wizard, and wizards aren’t allowed in the kingdom.”
“Why not?”
Ringo paused and searched through his brain. The drummer wasn’t prepared with any kind of background story but decided to just make stuff up as he went along. “’Cos it’s mostly an elf kingdom and wizards like the elves too much.”
George nodded, taking in everything the drummer was saying. “I see.”
“The elves are so very cute and small, you see, and the wizards sort of go crazy… and they, er, hug the elves so hard that they end up crushing them. And if they don’t crush them, they end up… pressuring them into sex!”
“Oh no!” George said with feigned worry.
“But one wizard, that would be you, really wants an elf friend..”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Ringo chuckled and set down his own fork, ready to go all out with this. “Exactly. And you’re confident that you’ll be able to control yerself and give the elves gentle hugs and wait until they’re ready for sex. Y’know, take them on a date and buy them flowers..” Ringo felt encouraged by George’s outburst of laughter as he kept going. “So you cast a spell and turn into a handsome prince, and then build a castle.”
“Right, good.”
“And the whole kingdom falls in love with you, including all the elves. Then-”
“Are you an elf in the kingdom?” George interrupted.
Ringo paused before nodding. “Of course.”
“So you’re in love with me too?”
“Of course.” The drummer said without thinking and continued on. “So anyways, all the elves…“
George was grinning ear to ear when the realization finally hit Ringo.
He could feel his face heating up as he backtracked and sputtered out a pitiful explanation. “No, I mean, y’know… you casted a spell and all, so, um, everyone fell in love with you y’know..” Ringo would somehow get tricked into such a lame confession like this. “All the elves and village people..”
The younger man nodded. “I’m sure I’m in love with you as well..” He said, a small smile still present on his face. “You being an elf and all.”
Ringo averted his gaze to anywhere but George’s smiley face sure the man was about to stay on this newly formed topic. He picked up his mug and chugged some his lukewarm coffee, willing the burning in his face to go away.
George watched him silently, showing no signs of any mood change save for the light rosiness to his cheeks. He picked at his nails nonchalantly, looking like he was going to say something more about it, but he didn’t.
“So is that the end then?” He asked, getting back on the previous topic.
Ringo finally set his mug down and shook his head, feeling relieved but at the same time unfulfilled. He sort of wished George would have kept at it, feeling like neither of them had made it too clear what was being said there just then.
“Uh, no.” The drummer paused and searched through his mind a bit. “Then everyone found out you were really a wizard and kicked you out because all the elves were disappearing when they’d come visit you at the castle.”
George cocked an eyebrow, placing his hands back into his lap and turning his full attention back to the drummer. “Did I eat them or something?”
Ringo was glad he hadn’t taken another sip before George had spoken, otherwise the younger man would have been covered in coffee from the drummer’s sudden burst of laughter.
“No!” The drummer said between chuckles. “You didn’t eat them, George.” Alright, it wasn’t that funny, Ringo supposed he was just doing that thing where you laugh a lot after something nerve-wracking had just happened.
“Then where are they?” The younger man questioned, looking ready to call bullshit. “Elves don’t just disappear ,y’know..”
“They’re chained up in the castle’s dungeons.. ‘cos yer evil, remember?”
George pursed his lips but nodded. “So then I have my filthy way with all the elves, right?”
Ringo shrugged, using that as a good plot-point for the story. “Right.”
“Including you?” The younger man gave him a small smile.
“Including me.” Ringo picked up his fork and turned back to his food. “That’s the end.”
“Very good story.” George said and chuckled, eyes shifting over to the window.
“I think you should probably tell me a story every day.” He said after a moment, voicing his thoughts.
Ringo looked up at the guitarist, unsure if he was joking or not. “Should I?”
George grinned and nodded. “Yeh, ya should. I heard that making up stories can keep the mind stimulated and whatnot.” Ringo nodded at the new knowledge, chuckling silently at George’s suddenly serious face. “But they have to end like the other two, alright?”
It only took the drummer a few seconds to realize what he meant, the realization giving his ego a nice belly rub. “Right, I’ll try..”
The younger man smiled again and nodded looking satisfied and turned himself completely to the window.
The older man smiled to himself and decided to finish eating as the two sat in comfortable silence for a while.
After a few bites of various foodstuffs, he looked up and found that George was staring at him like he was going to strike up another conversation. Ringo lifted his eyebrows in a sort of silent “go on.” gesture, but the younger man merely turned back to the window, looking to be deep in thought.
Ringo decided not to press him and reached for his napkin, noticing rolled up newspaper sitting next to it where George had left it. “Gonna read that?”
George turned back to the table, seeming to come out of his daze as his eyes followed the invisible line of sight Ringo was pointing to. “Oh, yeh.”
Ringo watched as he unrolled the black and white paper, the title Ongoing Times in plain lettering appearing at the top. Clever title, Ringo mused.
“That’s the one that Frank guy works for right?
“Think so.” George mumbled, already delving into the text across the paper. Ringo glanced at the upside down headlines and saw multiple articles with the word “Beatles” in the titles, so he figured George was reading about himself or something.
Ringo turned his attention back to his almost cleared plate and imagined how the day was going to go. This could pretty much be counted as another relaxing day after a concert, save for the next fancy or important whatevers Brian might suddenly have planned.
He plucked a strip of bacon off of George’s unfinished plate and noticed that the younger man’s food tasted pretty great too. Maybe they’d gotten a new chef?
Ringo glanced at the younger man who seemed to being getting pretty into whatever he was reading and felt a familiar warmth spread inside of him.
He could definitely get used to this whole sex & brekky thing he and George had going. In fact, he feared he already was falling into the pleasant routine, which was starting to gnaw at the back of his brain. He was a married for Christ’s sake. It’d been what, 6 or 7 months and he was already crazy for someone else? That someone else being a man. It was a scenario he never saw himself being a part of, that’s for sure.
He hated to think about it, but it was all coming down fast, seeing as the tour was going to be over in a few short days. Sure, they still had San Francisco after this next Hollywood Bowl concert, but that was almost immediately afterwards. The days seemed to be getting shorter and shorter as each precious hour passed.
Ringo decided to stop thinking about it for now, not wanting to suddenly get all depressed when there was no good reason to be. He took a big bite from his biscuit and nearly choked on it when he heard an unexpected half-scoff, half-sob come from across the table.
George was gaping at the paper in front of him, his face as red Ringo had seen it in a long while. From the torn look on his face, Ringo’s stomach was immediately in knots. “What? What?!”
The younger man closed his mouth into a thin line, his eyes still rapidly scanning back and forth across whatever article he was reading and his face fell into a deep frown the further he went on.
“George, what? What’s wrong?”
Ringo waited for him to say something but he didn’t even look up. Instead, the younger man suddenly pushed his chair back from the table, face still in flames, and practically ran from the buffet in an impressive record of 3 seconds.
“George! Wait a minute, wouldja-“ He tried to call after him utterly confused, but George had quite the stride with those mile-long legs and was already out the door.
All four of the other men occupying the buffet turned to look at Ringo questioningly, but the drummer was already turning his attention back to the paper strewn across the table.
That overused feeling of uneasiness returned to his stomach and tickled the knots already there as he reluctantly reached out and turned the paper right side up. Something in this thing had obviously set George off. The younger man wasn’t usually one to get upset over a silly little article written about him though..
Ringo leaned forward and did a quick skim over the page.
One little blurb on the right-side panel immediately caught his eye.
Beatle George Harrison: Questionable Indiscretions?Written by Frank A. Guettera
Ringo felt even sicker as soon he read the first line.
“I may not be a man of the world, even at the quite ripe age of 43, but I do know a homosexual when I see one.”
Jesus, that had to catch more than just his eye. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read on, but he couldn’t stop himself as he snatched the paper up with shaky hands, curling it at the edges like he was paranoid of someone reading it over his shoulder.
“I had the utmost privilege of interviewing the famous Beatles yesterday morning and although I was already a little biased towards the idea going in, I came out with more than enough evidence to further fuel my theory.”
Ringo could still feel the other’s eyes on his face as he tried to keep his nerves from showing. He slouched down further and tried to hide his face by the paper, sure it must be twisting up grotesquely as he went on.
“The theory is this: one or more of the “Fab Four” are in fact, closet-homosexuals. Fab, indeed.”
The drummer gasped quietly, a feeling of dread coming over him. He glanced up and unintentionally met John’s hard gaze before quickly turning back to scan the paragraph.
“Similar to that of their esteemed manager Brian Epstein, a “closet-homosexual” is defined as those who are attracted to the same sex, but are either in complete denial, or are just very good at hiding it. Now don’t get your pitchforks out just yet folks, please do read on before you decide to barricade my office with Beatles-themed wood. That goes out especially to all of you young Beatle-fanatics, I’ve seen what havoc you young folks can unleash..”
Ringo wanted to throw up and scream, or perhaps do both simultaneously. He wanted to jump up from the table and throw it out the window so he could escape and go on a rampage all the way to Frank’s stupid office. But of course, he couldn’t and didn’t. The drummer only continued to read.
“Now, I’m not necessarily saying I know which of the four is indeed a homosexual, or if any one of them are at all, but as the headline suggests my always humble guess is the lead guitarist George Harrison. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, George is in fact married to woman. Quite a woman, if I do say so myself..”
If Ringo had less control, he probably would have ripped the paper up into a millions pieces then and there so he wouldn’t have to look at the ridiculous thing anymore.
“But that proves nothing. Plenty of men in this world who like to think of themselves as a “man’s man” still end up marrying beautiful women but do find some way to satisfy their ungodly cravings in their free time. How do I know so much about queers, you ask?”
How did anyone approve of this shitty article? Is all Ringo asks. He didn’t dare guess how many people had read this already, fearing the number would be way too high. Although now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he already knew of one person who had obviously already read and believed this thing, and that knowledge alone infuriated him. Ringo stopped himself from scanning the premises for Teddy, knowing he would be nowhere in sight.
“I happen to have a homosexual nephew, actually. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he’s quite the fairy. In fact, I let him come to the interview with me and sit among the press as he happens to have a “thing” for George, as you might call it.”
The knowledge that some guy had been drooling over George within 50 yards of him creeped even Ringo out; he couldn’t imagine how the guitarist had felt after reading that. Not that he could remember any young faces sticking in the sea of old press peoples.
What he probably should have done right about then was run upstairs to see if George was alright, but his eyes stayed glued to the article like he was under some spell that wouldn’t be broken until he read through to the end.
“But I digress. My point is that you can’t always tell just by looking, you have to do a little investigating if you want to know for sure. I won’t share any details for I don’t condone snooping, but I’ve been doing some detective work of my own lately and the proof is, as they say, in the pudding.”
The rest of the article went on about how George was most likely so quiet in public because he had issues with his ‘self-image’ in society, being aware that he was gay or something. Most of it was obviously bullshit, but towards the end of the blurb Ringo felt an unpleasant sinking in his gut. Frank talked about how George was most likely ‘having an affair’ or ‘attempting to have an affair’ with one of them, as in the other three Beatles. Frank went on to talk about which of the three he felt George had his mind set on, his reasoning starting to sound more and more logical as he ultimately threw John and Paul off the ‘possible targets’ list.
Ringo felt an eerie chill travel up his spine as he read the last sentences.
“… states that George Harrison, in this very broad and general sense, is theoretically having an affair with none other than Ringo Starr. For more information on this theory, just go to a Beatles concert.
-Frank A. Gueterra”
And that was the end of the article.
**
A/N2: No idea why I’m always writing them at breakfast. I must have some sort of breakfast fetish. Et sowwy for the longness of this chapter… sigh.
lolwut. Go away. Next entry.
Author: samberrie (itsa me)
Pairing: George/Ringo for this chapter
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Naughty language, crude humor, sexual mentioning’s, homophobic undertones, mo’ angst
Time Frame: Second American Tour, 1965.
Summary: In this chapter, Ringo’s food is delicious. lol wut.
Disclaimer!: I own no Beatles. None of their songs and none of their pretty faces. None of this ever happened. ‘Tis fiction my dears.
A/N: Chapter 20! Hory mory! I feel like my child had just turned into a young man. Anyways, gets a little cracky towards the end I think there since I totally made up the newspaper and the article. Oh well. Guess this is sort of turning into an AT kind of thing.
CHAPITRE VINGT
Apres le concerto de Hollywood Bowl deux.. la matin.
This biscuit must be the Messiah of all that is golden and fluffy, because it’s damn good.
Ringo took another bite out of the delicious thing and tried to pinpoint exactly what differentiated it from yesterdays. It was fresh, again, and so was the butter it seemed, but it tasted so much… better.
He chewed slowly so that he could properly taste the biscuit, feeling sort of like one of those French food critics as he did. It was the same texture and solidity, same smell, same fluffy look, but it was only the taste that seemed more pronounced.
He thought back and remembered that his mother once said that food tastes like your mood or something rhymey like that, and he started to wonder if that was true.
Well, he was pretty happy. But he was happy yesterday too, wasn’t he? In fact, he was always happy, but his food never tasted quite this happy.
Ringo looked up from his inspection at the man across from him who seemed to be fussing over his own food.
The drummer felt himself smiling as he watched George carefully mix the right amount of sugar and cream into his coffee with measured precision.
Ringo took a moment to take the younger man in and observed him quietly. George had been slightly cranky all morning, but they were all a bit unwound from their consumption of alcoholic beverages last night so he didn’t really blame him. The man, although he was fully dressed, still had that just rolled out of bed look with his mussed hair and lack of a tie.
He examined George’s hair curiously, wondering how it actually looked like he had purposely styled it like that when he hadn’t even touched it. How the heck did he get it like that? The drummer was sure the messy look wouldn’t work very well on him or-
“Um, hello..” A voice suddenly said. Ringo looked up from his examination to see a young man dressed in a red bellhop’s outfit addressing George.
The guitarist turned and gave him a blank look, staying silent. Ringo, always the friendly little drummer, decided to save the man from the awkwardness that accompanied a stranger trying to talk to George.
“Good mornin’,” He said, smiling at the man. The guy looked a little young to be working at such an upscale hotel, but Ringo was never very good at judging people’s ages. “Er, Teddy.” He said, reading the man’s golden nametag.
The bellhop smiled at the drummer nervously. “Can I get you anything?” This Teddy fellow looked oddly familiar to Ringo, but he couldn’t put the face to the name. He looked like he could be half Hispanic or something with his slightly bronzed skin tone and his face showing what he recognized to be Latin features.
Ringo turned to look at George for his input but he was fiddling with the sugar jar, silently staying out of the exchange.
This was kind of a new occurrence, one of the hotel’s staff addressing them. He was pretty sure no one had asked them if they needed anything at all before this but Ringo wasn’t one to analyze things like this. “Uh, just this morning’s paper I guess.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be right back!” The man said, looking and sounding excited to be of use. Teddy kind of reminded him of a puppy, he could almost see his tail wagging back and forth as he walked out of the buffet.
Ringo chuckled at the odd fellow and turned to look out the lattice window above their isolated table in the corner of the buffet, still pleasantly surprised that George had automatically agreed to sit alone with him for breakfast. He constantly had this weird and fairly new feeling of possessiveness for the younger man, always wanting him all to himself. The feeling was sated for the moment though.
He watched an old lady enter a shop across the way, his paranoia of being seen by some gaggle of fans settled by now. The Beatlemaniacs still hadn’t figured out which hotel they were staying in, and he was sure they were convinced that the four were in the other one across town, so he really had nothing to worry about.
The drummer was watching some stray cat daringly cross the road when he heard the younger man speak.
“You’d make a good elf.”
The words took a moment to process in Ringo’s head before he slowly turned to look back at the man. Even after all these years, Ringo still never expected the bizarre crap that came out of George’s mouth.
“…An elf, George?” He asked him, clearly confused.
George nodded, looking quite pleased with his insight. Now that the younger man had finally spoken, he actually seemed pretty chipper, his crankiness seemingly worn off by now. Which was good because seeing George happy and comfortable was always a relief to Ringo. He wasn’t too nervous about the actual intimate acts the two shared anymore. After all, it seemed like they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other since that first night so no problems there.
No, it was more the morning or even few minutes afterwards that mostly had him worried. But even that was getting better. It was a little weird, but it was almost like this whole new addition of sex has meshed quite well with their overall friendship, it was kind of like adding a fourth leg to their table-of-friendship. Three legs were alright, but four legs just made it much steadier and safer to set your expensive china on.
The drummer should probably know better by now than to prolong these odd conversations, but fueled by George’s good mood, he did. “And why’s that?”
The guitarist was quick with his rebuttal, probably already expecting that question. “’Cos yer small and smiley like Santa’s slaves.”
Ringo was about to question George’s use of the word ‘slaves’ in place of ‘helpers’ but decided against it, knowing he’d probably pull the drummer into a discussion of unfair elf labor or something.
“M’not all small though, right?” Ringo tried as a steering wheel into a different conversation.
George ignored his sex joke and continued with his reasoning. “Plus you’ve got blue eyes. Elves have always got blue eyes.”
Ringo understood his logic, kind of, but wasn’t sure whether to take this as a compliment or what. “Sure I wouldn’t be a prince or something?” He chuckled.
George shook his head and said seriously around a mouthful of something or another, “No. You’d be an elf.”
Ringo knew that probably could have been the end of this weird discussion, but he ended up prolonging it before he could stop himself.
“But I haven’t got the ears to be an elf. Yers on the other hand..”
“Yeh, but I’m not short.” George said without missing a beat. Touché.
Ringo should’ve known he’d have more points ready to counteract should the drummer have any objections. He sighed. “Right. Which one would I be then?”
George was about to shovel a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Which what?”
The drummer’s eyes automatically followed the shiny silverware to George’s lips. “Elf. Y’know, like Snow White and the Seven Elf’s.” He said distractedly as he watched the younger man’s mouth.
George paused mid-chew and stared at him like he’d just sprouted seven cocks on his face. Ringo stared back and waited for the younger man to finish chewing, confused by the man’s wacky look.
The guitarist swallowed and lifted an eyebrow. “…Seven Dwarfs, Ringo.” He corrected him slowly.
Ringo’s brain suddenly clicked as he remembered. “Ohh..”
George smiled at him and lifted his mug. “You could be a dwarf or an elf, really. Neither of them’re very smart.” He said without a trace of mockery, tipping his mug back and taking a sip. Coming out of anyone else’s mouth it would have sounded like they were having a go at the drummer, but George obviously wasn’t. Everything the younger man said sounded so harmless that it was almost impossible to get angry at him for it.
Ringo decided not to say anything back, knowing it would only make George feel bad for unintentionally calling him dumb.
George set his mug down and was still smiling, obviously enjoying that Ringo was going along with this. “You’d be Happy, I think. But also Sleepy. And maybe Dopey… you’d be all three of those one’s.”
The drummer nodded, grabbing his own mug to take a sip.
“So what would I be? An ogre?” George asked, turning his full attention Ringo when he set his fork down and pushed his plate away. He leaned forward on his elbows and waited, looking like a child waiting for his bedtime story.
Ringo chuckled and pondered this for a moment, ultimately going for the obvious choice. “A prince, of course.” He was sure that George would make a great prince. Prince’s wear tights don’t they? Ringo tried to imagine the younger man in one of those royal get-ups, complete with and without the tights.
George wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Bah, that’s too boring.”
The drummer sighed, already knowing he wouldn’t get off the hook so easily. He glanced across the buffet at the other half of their posse. Mal and Neil were there, having finally switched to their same hotel like good roadies ought to do, talking with John and Paul. Paul seemed to be participating in the conversation wholeheartedly, but Ringo could see the passiveness on John’s face as he stayed silent. It was less scary but a bit more worrisome than the younger man’s previously sour mood.
Ringo chewed on his lip, still unsure of what was wrong with the rhythm guitarist, and turned back to the man who was staring at him patiently.
“Here you go, sir.” The little bellhop guy suddenly appeared by George’s side with the paper, his imaginary tail probably waggling rapidly. Ringo had honestly completely forgotten about him.
“Oh,” George took the rolled up newspaper and set it on the table, giving him a small smile for a change. “Ta.”
Teddy the bellhop lingered there for a few more seconds than necessary even after George had silently dismissed him.
“Need somethin’?” Ringo asked him, confused by the man’s questionable stare at the guitarist. The man being ogled turned his head to look up at the bellhop curiously.
Ringo squinted suspiciously when Teddy looked at him in a panic.
“No, um, sorry..” He was sure the man was blushing before quickly turning on his heel and slipping out of the buffet. What the heck was that all about? Ringo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a bloke check out another bloke like that in broad daylight before.
“So? What would I really be?” George asked, obviously not noticing the gay vibes that had been coming from Teddy. He looked back at the younger man, shaking off that weird fellow.
Well who was he to judge? It’s not like he hadn’t been doing the same thing himself moments before Teddy had shown up. George is one good-looking guy, after all. Now that he thought about it, George was definitely the type of guy that other guys would go for, Ringo obviously being one of them.
“Alright, you’d be an evil wizard disguised as a Prince.” Ringo finally said, quite proud of his twist.
George grinned, looking satisfied as well. “That’s good.” He nodded, but wasn’t ready to accept it like that, Ringo could already tell. “So why am I in disguise?”
Looks like story time again, Ringo thought to himself. They seemed to be making this story thing quite the habit lately, with Ringo doing most of the talking and George mostly questioning. It was sort of fun though, so he went along. “Well.. yer a wizard, and wizards aren’t allowed in the kingdom.”
“Why not?”
Ringo paused and searched through his brain. The drummer wasn’t prepared with any kind of background story but decided to just make stuff up as he went along. “’Cos it’s mostly an elf kingdom and wizards like the elves too much.”
George nodded, taking in everything the drummer was saying. “I see.”
“The elves are so very cute and small, you see, and the wizards sort of go crazy… and they, er, hug the elves so hard that they end up crushing them. And if they don’t crush them, they end up… pressuring them into sex!”
“Oh no!” George said with feigned worry.
“But one wizard, that would be you, really wants an elf friend..”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Ringo chuckled and set down his own fork, ready to go all out with this. “Exactly. And you’re confident that you’ll be able to control yerself and give the elves gentle hugs and wait until they’re ready for sex. Y’know, take them on a date and buy them flowers..” Ringo felt encouraged by George’s outburst of laughter as he kept going. “So you cast a spell and turn into a handsome prince, and then build a castle.”
“Right, good.”
“And the whole kingdom falls in love with you, including all the elves. Then-”
“Are you an elf in the kingdom?” George interrupted.
Ringo paused before nodding. “Of course.”
“So you’re in love with me too?”
“Of course.” The drummer said without thinking and continued on. “So anyways, all the elves…“
George was grinning ear to ear when the realization finally hit Ringo.
He could feel his face heating up as he backtracked and sputtered out a pitiful explanation. “No, I mean, y’know… you casted a spell and all, so, um, everyone fell in love with you y’know..” Ringo would somehow get tricked into such a lame confession like this. “All the elves and village people..”
The younger man nodded. “I’m sure I’m in love with you as well..” He said, a small smile still present on his face. “You being an elf and all.”
Ringo averted his gaze to anywhere but George’s smiley face sure the man was about to stay on this newly formed topic. He picked up his mug and chugged some his lukewarm coffee, willing the burning in his face to go away.
George watched him silently, showing no signs of any mood change save for the light rosiness to his cheeks. He picked at his nails nonchalantly, looking like he was going to say something more about it, but he didn’t.
“So is that the end then?” He asked, getting back on the previous topic.
Ringo finally set his mug down and shook his head, feeling relieved but at the same time unfulfilled. He sort of wished George would have kept at it, feeling like neither of them had made it too clear what was being said there just then.
“Uh, no.” The drummer paused and searched through his mind a bit. “Then everyone found out you were really a wizard and kicked you out because all the elves were disappearing when they’d come visit you at the castle.”
George cocked an eyebrow, placing his hands back into his lap and turning his full attention back to the drummer. “Did I eat them or something?”
Ringo was glad he hadn’t taken another sip before George had spoken, otherwise the younger man would have been covered in coffee from the drummer’s sudden burst of laughter.
“No!” The drummer said between chuckles. “You didn’t eat them, George.” Alright, it wasn’t that funny, Ringo supposed he was just doing that thing where you laugh a lot after something nerve-wracking had just happened.
“Then where are they?” The younger man questioned, looking ready to call bullshit. “Elves don’t just disappear ,y’know..”
“They’re chained up in the castle’s dungeons.. ‘cos yer evil, remember?”
George pursed his lips but nodded. “So then I have my filthy way with all the elves, right?”
Ringo shrugged, using that as a good plot-point for the story. “Right.”
“Including you?” The younger man gave him a small smile.
“Including me.” Ringo picked up his fork and turned back to his food. “That’s the end.”
“Very good story.” George said and chuckled, eyes shifting over to the window.
“I think you should probably tell me a story every day.” He said after a moment, voicing his thoughts.
Ringo looked up at the guitarist, unsure if he was joking or not. “Should I?”
George grinned and nodded. “Yeh, ya should. I heard that making up stories can keep the mind stimulated and whatnot.” Ringo nodded at the new knowledge, chuckling silently at George’s suddenly serious face. “But they have to end like the other two, alright?”
It only took the drummer a few seconds to realize what he meant, the realization giving his ego a nice belly rub. “Right, I’ll try..”
The younger man smiled again and nodded looking satisfied and turned himself completely to the window.
The older man smiled to himself and decided to finish eating as the two sat in comfortable silence for a while.
After a few bites of various foodstuffs, he looked up and found that George was staring at him like he was going to strike up another conversation. Ringo lifted his eyebrows in a sort of silent “go on.” gesture, but the younger man merely turned back to the window, looking to be deep in thought.
Ringo decided not to press him and reached for his napkin, noticing rolled up newspaper sitting next to it where George had left it. “Gonna read that?”
George turned back to the table, seeming to come out of his daze as his eyes followed the invisible line of sight Ringo was pointing to. “Oh, yeh.”
Ringo watched as he unrolled the black and white paper, the title Ongoing Times in plain lettering appearing at the top. Clever title, Ringo mused.
“That’s the one that Frank guy works for right?
“Think so.” George mumbled, already delving into the text across the paper. Ringo glanced at the upside down headlines and saw multiple articles with the word “Beatles” in the titles, so he figured George was reading about himself or something.
Ringo turned his attention back to his almost cleared plate and imagined how the day was going to go. This could pretty much be counted as another relaxing day after a concert, save for the next fancy or important whatevers Brian might suddenly have planned.
He plucked a strip of bacon off of George’s unfinished plate and noticed that the younger man’s food tasted pretty great too. Maybe they’d gotten a new chef?
Ringo glanced at the younger man who seemed to being getting pretty into whatever he was reading and felt a familiar warmth spread inside of him.
He could definitely get used to this whole sex & brekky thing he and George had going. In fact, he feared he already was falling into the pleasant routine, which was starting to gnaw at the back of his brain. He was a married for Christ’s sake. It’d been what, 6 or 7 months and he was already crazy for someone else? That someone else being a man. It was a scenario he never saw himself being a part of, that’s for sure.
He hated to think about it, but it was all coming down fast, seeing as the tour was going to be over in a few short days. Sure, they still had San Francisco after this next Hollywood Bowl concert, but that was almost immediately afterwards. The days seemed to be getting shorter and shorter as each precious hour passed.
Ringo decided to stop thinking about it for now, not wanting to suddenly get all depressed when there was no good reason to be. He took a big bite from his biscuit and nearly choked on it when he heard an unexpected half-scoff, half-sob come from across the table.
George was gaping at the paper in front of him, his face as red Ringo had seen it in a long while. From the torn look on his face, Ringo’s stomach was immediately in knots. “What? What?!”
The younger man closed his mouth into a thin line, his eyes still rapidly scanning back and forth across whatever article he was reading and his face fell into a deep frown the further he went on.
“George, what? What’s wrong?”
Ringo waited for him to say something but he didn’t even look up. Instead, the younger man suddenly pushed his chair back from the table, face still in flames, and practically ran from the buffet in an impressive record of 3 seconds.
“George! Wait a minute, wouldja-“ He tried to call after him utterly confused, but George had quite the stride with those mile-long legs and was already out the door.
All four of the other men occupying the buffet turned to look at Ringo questioningly, but the drummer was already turning his attention back to the paper strewn across the table.
That overused feeling of uneasiness returned to his stomach and tickled the knots already there as he reluctantly reached out and turned the paper right side up. Something in this thing had obviously set George off. The younger man wasn’t usually one to get upset over a silly little article written about him though..
Ringo leaned forward and did a quick skim over the page.
One little blurb on the right-side panel immediately caught his eye.
Beatle George Harrison: Questionable Indiscretions?Written by Frank A. Guettera
Ringo felt even sicker as soon he read the first line.
“I may not be a man of the world, even at the quite ripe age of 43, but I do know a homosexual when I see one.”
Jesus, that had to catch more than just his eye. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read on, but he couldn’t stop himself as he snatched the paper up with shaky hands, curling it at the edges like he was paranoid of someone reading it over his shoulder.
“I had the utmost privilege of interviewing the famous Beatles yesterday morning and although I was already a little biased towards the idea going in, I came out with more than enough evidence to further fuel my theory.”
Ringo could still feel the other’s eyes on his face as he tried to keep his nerves from showing. He slouched down further and tried to hide his face by the paper, sure it must be twisting up grotesquely as he went on.
“The theory is this: one or more of the “Fab Four” are in fact, closet-homosexuals. Fab, indeed.”
The drummer gasped quietly, a feeling of dread coming over him. He glanced up and unintentionally met John’s hard gaze before quickly turning back to scan the paragraph.
“Similar to that of their esteemed manager Brian Epstein, a “closet-homosexual” is defined as those who are attracted to the same sex, but are either in complete denial, or are just very good at hiding it. Now don’t get your pitchforks out just yet folks, please do read on before you decide to barricade my office with Beatles-themed wood. That goes out especially to all of you young Beatle-fanatics, I’ve seen what havoc you young folks can unleash..”
Ringo wanted to throw up and scream, or perhaps do both simultaneously. He wanted to jump up from the table and throw it out the window so he could escape and go on a rampage all the way to Frank’s stupid office. But of course, he couldn’t and didn’t. The drummer only continued to read.
“Now, I’m not necessarily saying I know which of the four is indeed a homosexual, or if any one of them are at all, but as the headline suggests my always humble guess is the lead guitarist George Harrison. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, George is in fact married to woman. Quite a woman, if I do say so myself..”
If Ringo had less control, he probably would have ripped the paper up into a millions pieces then and there so he wouldn’t have to look at the ridiculous thing anymore.
“But that proves nothing. Plenty of men in this world who like to think of themselves as a “man’s man” still end up marrying beautiful women but do find some way to satisfy their ungodly cravings in their free time. How do I know so much about queers, you ask?”
How did anyone approve of this shitty article? Is all Ringo asks. He didn’t dare guess how many people had read this already, fearing the number would be way too high. Although now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he already knew of one person who had obviously already read and believed this thing, and that knowledge alone infuriated him. Ringo stopped himself from scanning the premises for Teddy, knowing he would be nowhere in sight.
“I happen to have a homosexual nephew, actually. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he’s quite the fairy. In fact, I let him come to the interview with me and sit among the press as he happens to have a “thing” for George, as you might call it.”
The knowledge that some guy had been drooling over George within 50 yards of him creeped even Ringo out; he couldn’t imagine how the guitarist had felt after reading that. Not that he could remember any young faces sticking in the sea of old press peoples.
What he probably should have done right about then was run upstairs to see if George was alright, but his eyes stayed glued to the article like he was under some spell that wouldn’t be broken until he read through to the end.
“But I digress. My point is that you can’t always tell just by looking, you have to do a little investigating if you want to know for sure. I won’t share any details for I don’t condone snooping, but I’ve been doing some detective work of my own lately and the proof is, as they say, in the pudding.”
The rest of the article went on about how George was most likely so quiet in public because he had issues with his ‘self-image’ in society, being aware that he was gay or something. Most of it was obviously bullshit, but towards the end of the blurb Ringo felt an unpleasant sinking in his gut. Frank talked about how George was most likely ‘having an affair’ or ‘attempting to have an affair’ with one of them, as in the other three Beatles. Frank went on to talk about which of the three he felt George had his mind set on, his reasoning starting to sound more and more logical as he ultimately threw John and Paul off the ‘possible targets’ list.
Ringo felt an eerie chill travel up his spine as he read the last sentences.
“… states that George Harrison, in this very broad and general sense, is theoretically having an affair with none other than Ringo Starr. For more information on this theory, just go to a Beatles concert.
-Frank A. Gueterra”
And that was the end of the article.
**
A/N2: No idea why I’m always writing them at breakfast. I must have some sort of breakfast fetish. Et sowwy for the longness of this chapter… sigh.
lolwut. Go away. Next entry.