#bUT I DONT WANT FIX IT FICS WE CAN JUST IGNORE THE FINAL 15 FOR THE SAKE

[xadeone]

You know how Good Omens fics were (before s2) usually either slice of life stuff, mixed with through the ages scenes, and or some love confession shenanigan and whatnot

Well, I want that, but I don't want to go read the old ones, I want that, but with the new stuff we got in the 2nd season.

I want the ox aftermath, and them teasing eachother over it in the future, I want memories from pre fall Crowley, I want them talking about wtf went on with Bee and Gabriel. There's probably more Im not saying

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before XII

Chapter: 12/15

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut, Slow Burn

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following day was spent rather unproductively, Ringo hardly moved from his bed and refused to get dressed into anything decent. Paul and John had left early, they could easily tell when Ringo wanted to left alone, but they ensured that at least one of them would be available should Ringo need anything at all. Last night hardly felt tangible, but the grogginess of Ringo's mind and the overhanging sadness made it difficult to forget. He wasn't entirely sure what he felt so bummed out about: was it merely the pain he felt to see George with another man? Or was it the sheer humiliation Ringo had experienced, having to expose his feelings to George in such an unappealing way? Perhaps it was a mixture of both, but he was determined to only let it sully this single day for tomorrow held endless possibilities and he truly believed that the date with George would still go fairly well, even with all this tension now risen to the surface.

Sometimes it was nice to have days like this, comfortably lounging around in pyjamas with no real objectives in mind. Ringo channelled out any lasting aggression he was harbouring by blasting music on his speakers, just about loud enough to stop himself from thinking. He had more than several comfort films to watch, many of which starred his favourite actor Peter Sellers, to make the time fly by without much thought. Throughout the day he conversed sparsely with John and Paul, neither of them addressing the actual events of last night but their concerned tones were enough of an allusion.

He treated himself to some pizza for dinner, settling down in front of his television and letting the hours pass. These days of nothingness were necessary, especially with the amount of excitement he'd been unwillingly plagued with this past week. Part of him debated not even bothering to get into bed, just to gradually pass into unconsciousness on his sofa, but the mature section of his mind - one which was often ignored - convinced him to tuck himself into the covers and let sleep wash over him.

Ringo gladly slept well into the afternoon, the only thing getting him out of bed was his growling stomach. Reaching for his phone he swiped away a variety of meaningless notifications then paused when he noticed a text from George. His mixed feelings were considerably less tangled than they had been previously, but there was still a hint of dread in his stomach when he thought about him.

Look outside your door.

It was sent a couple of hours ago, Ringo worried he'd missed whatever surprise had been waiting for him. He didn't appreciate the cryptic tone, nonetheless he padded over to the front of his flat and cautiously opened the door. Sitting before him was a vase sporting a diverse bouquet of flowers, Ringo wasn't even sure he could name half of them. He looked at it for a while, registering how to fit this in with his torn attitude towards George, and noticed a small card perked upon one of the leaves; he picked it up and inspected it closely.

First of many treats I have planned for tonight. I hope your hangover isn't too bad and you aren't regretting giving me another chance.

Ringo found himself smiling, he must have looked rather odd standing in nothing but his boxers and socks clutching onto this card for longer than he needed to. The thought of one of his neighbours seeing him in this precarious situation spurred him to take the vase inside and shut the door behind him, he inhaled the fresh smell deeply as he brought them into the kitchen to find an adequate placement. He couldn't deny how beautiful they looked, as much as his pessimism wanted to convince him that this was merely a disingenuous ploy. It was difficult to hold onto the resentment, Ringo found himself leaning more towards the attitude that it was merely an extremely unfortunate situation and that George had never intended on hurting him. What use was there in holding onto the past?

Drinking his morning cup of tea, Ringo stared at the flowers before he realised he should probably respond to George's text.

sorry i only just woke up the flowers are gorgeous thank you so much

You're welcome It's the least I can do really There's plenty more where that came from

flowers or surprises??

Both Just you wait

havent got much a choice have i?

I can pick up you around 7 Does that work for you?

it sure does

Ringo debated whether to send another text, he really wanted to clear the air completely but wondered whether it would be better to do it in person. The last thing he wanted was for the whole night to feel like George was having to make it up to him, rather than it being an enjoyable night for the both of them. He understood George's guilt completely, but it would no doubt make him feel rather ridiculous with the forced nature of it all. If only things could just go back to normal, was that too much to ask? He let out a sigh, drafting out a message and staring at it for a while.

i dont want this to come across as harsh or ungrateful or anything but could we leave out any conversation about last night?? i just want to have a good time and not think about that stupid stuff

Impulsively, Ringo sent it without much further thought. He knew it wasn't the most coherent or effective way of getting across his jumbled thought process but the last thing he needed was even more stress seeping into today.

Last night? What happened last night? I was at home didn't step outside for a second

you're right how silly of me must have you confused for someone else

Ringo felt relief washing over him, a grin spreading across his face as he continued to stare at the message from George. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be as stressful as he'd originally anticipated, he'd almost forgotten how at ease George was able to make him feel.

Now arrived the age old dilemma: what on Earth was he meant to wear? He probably should've asked how upscale the place was that George had picked out for them, he didn't want to risk dressing up too much and looking like a fool. Not that Ringo had a great array of formal clothes to choose from, he wasn't one to frequent snobbish establishments if he could help it. He emptied out almost his entire wardrobe, tossing clothes behind him into barely distinguishable piles like he was starring in a teen movie. It took far longer than necessary to narrow down his choices, eventually settling on a navy jumper and some dark trousers. Looking at himself in the mirror he realised there was no way this outfit reflected the amount of time he'd spent choosing it, but the last thing Ringo was about to do was spend more time agonising over something that no doubt didn't matter much at all.

His stomach started rumbling while he waited for George to arrive, he only hoped the food would be appealing. Ringo had a reputation for being a picky eater, not that he could necessarily help it with his endless list of allergies. He found himself worrying that wherever they went Ringo wouldn't be able to eat anything and it would spiral the entire date into disaster. Exactly where this paranoia came from he didn't know, he only hoped it would disappear as soon as he laid eyes on George.

When the long-awaited text finally arrived, Ringo grabbed his jacket and hurried down the stairs. If he didn't eat soon he felt like he was going to pass out, he knew that wasn't truly the case but he couldn't deny that it felt that way. George beamed at him through the glass window, Ringo reciprocated the grin without it feeling even the slightest bit forced. Everything felt normal, thank goodness.

"Don't you look dashing?" George spoke first, a playful tone in his voice.

"Why thank you." Ringo stepped out of the building "I wasn't quite sure what to wear, if I'm being honest."

George was sporting a dark green turtleneck, on top of which he wore a black chequered blazer with trousers to match. It was the most dressed up Ringo had ever seen him, and it was a pleasant sight to say the least.

"Well you look great." George reassured him "Now, I'm absolutely starving so let's get a move on."

They slid into George's car, Ringo felt a little strange to not be the one doing the driving. As they began pulling out onto the main road, Ringo felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Trying to be polite, he decided to ignore it, it was likely only Paul or John wishing him good luck on his date. Neither of them spoke much as they drove, they'd have plenty of time to talk once they got to the restaurant. George hummed to himself rather quietly, Ringo wasn't sure he was even aware he was doing it. After several minutes, George's hand gradually moved away from the steering wheel and onto Ringo's thigh; he never turned to look at him, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. Experimentally he began rubbing his thumb on the fabric of Ringo's trousers, it was a sweet gesture that Ringo appreciated. Ringo gathered the courage to press it one step further, sliding his own hand underneath and interlocking their fingers together. Once again George didn't turn, but a small smile spread on his face. Ringo wasn't sure this was exactly the safest way to drive, but it helped relax his nerves a little.

Not too much time had passed before they'd arrived at their destination, a rather small building with a cosy looking interior. George turned the ignition off but neither of them made any further movements, sat firmly in their seats with their hands still clasped together. The muffled sound of the bustling city outside the car overpowered any potential awkward silence, Ringo was afraid to move lest he ruined the moment.

"You ready to go inside?" George asked, his voice far quieter than necessary, finally turning to face Ringo.

Ringo nodded, hopefully managing to hide his disappointment as George's hand slipped away. They both stepped outside of the car and made their way towards the restaurant, it was pretty packed but fortunately George had booked a table for the both of them. Anxiety began to creep into Ringo's mind as they were guided to their seats, he hadn't been on a proper date like this for so long, he felt like he'd forgotten how to make regular conversation. Yet sitting down across from George made all those worries disappear, all he needed was the smallest amount of eye contact and he felt safe once again.

"You like wine?" George asked, perusing the drinks menu.

"I can't lie, I'm not a fan." Ringo didn't want to risk sounding rude.

"How about a cocktail or something? Just don't look at the prices." George chuckled "Whatever you want, my treat."

"I'd love a Sex on the Beach, if you're offering." Ringo said rather sheepishly.

"Last time I checked Liverpool didn't have any beaches." George feigned a quizzical expression "I think I'll have one too."

The drinks didn't take too long to arrive, Ringo felt relieved to get some alcohol in his body to help him relax. Although he was determined to not get too drunk tonight, it was about time he experienced George's company sober. The atmosphere of the restaurant was nice, rather homely, far less intimidating than the grand vision Ringo had conjured during one of his bouts of paranoia.

Everything just felt right, there was nowhere else he'd rather be or anyone else he'd rather be with. The gleam in George's eyes and the faint smile always barely hidden on his lips let Ringo know that he was feeling the exact same way.