#fellas is it GAY to have MATCHING CHAPTER IMAGES where one of you has your heart locked up and the other one has the key???

[lovers-instead]

Whisper Me A Love Song volume 7 / Whisper Me A Love Song volume 8

[georgeharris0n]

Blisters On His Fingers- Chapter 3- “Paul Is On The Verge of a Mental Breakdown”

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapters: 3/25

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, Minor Paul McCartney/John Lennon

Summery:  Paul gets a front row seat to a famous John and Rory ego match, except this time John's scheme goes into motion.

Also- Geo and Ringo get a little impulsive. ;) 

Read Chapter 2 here

The very back of the KaiserKeller was probably the most musty, weathered place of the entire establishment. This was where the bands had to store most of the equipment when sets ended and nights were played out. It was horrid, dusty, and just plane disgusting to say the least. Ringo could barely stand having to store his drums back there. It always gave him a nasty cough when he breathed.

  “Oi! Rings! Need a hand with them drums?” Johnny called out from round the corner of the hall.

  Ringo was holding in a breath and gave his friend a quick nod as he rushed from the room holding onto his snare and cymbals. Johnny kindly swept in to grab what was left, the stool and bass drum.

  “Thanks lad- um.. how long have we got till our numbers?” Ringo asked nervously looking over at the cracked floorboards while approaching the rotting stage.

  Johnny quirked his brow, and scanned the bar. “Nope, no Beatles yet… if that’s what you’re askin’.” He flashed a knowing grin and gave Ringo a nudge with his elbow.

  At that, Ringo scratched the back of his neck and checked his watch. “I’m serious arsehole I- I’ve jus’ got to set up my things n’ all…”

  Of all the things Ringo was in the world, he was always a shitty liar.

  “OHhhh sureee- right, because it’s so hard putting drums onto a stage?“ The lad scoffed. “Maybe I should ask Rory for ya? He might know when they get here.” Johnny said teasingly. Giving Ringo one last shove in the arm.

  In panic, Ringo’s eyes went big and he spun round’ to Johnny’s smug smile. “Please-”

  “You’re gonna hav’ to them him eventually Rings.” Johnny cautioned “He knows you’re into fellas anyhow, what’s the worry? Coverin’ for ya last night wasn’t easy you know.”

  He knew, of course he knew. Rory was observant. He seemed lively and easygoing, which he was- but Rory could tell when something was off, and Ringo leaving last evening was very off. The band spent practically every waking moment together, and Rory was a natural born leader. He knew when any of the boys were out of it.

  Rory was what people wished they could be. Back in Liverpool he was always the talk of the town. Popular, athletic, and with more energy than all of the boys in Liverpool combined. He was a looker as well, Rory had high cheekbones and some of the most fluffed and well groomed hair you’d ever seen. Not to mention he was a tall bastard, lean, and full of promise. Fellas wanted to be him and girls wanted to be his . 

His best quality though by far was his drive. Rory was ambitious, and when he set his sights on starting a band, he went in- full force. There was nothing he took more seriously, he designed every aspect in order to set up the band’s image and style. He liked glamour, flare, and theatrics. A theatrical showman in his own right, and he loved feeding the audience as much of it as he could throw.

  Sure the pink suits were a bit much, but it was different and Rory loves different. None of the other lads ever complained, except maybe Luo. He thought it to be a bit too flashy. Although, that's what Rory likes, flashy, fun, and professional. It’s probably why the Beatles were so different. Natural rivals. Rory was serious about a clean, fun image, while the Beatles were rough looking, not so much caring for stage presence. For them, they focused on the music.

  Regardless, Ringo admired the Beatles, not just George. John and Paul were both characters for sure, but musically they fit into each other like gloves. The Hurricane’s could hopefully live up to that kind of potential. The band was close, but even Ringo could tell it wasn’t the same as what those 3 had.

  Johnny Guitar was probably the closest friend Ringo had. They got on real well since he joined and since then has been best mates. They’d gotten to know each other so well Johnny even knew Ringo was crushing on George before he told him he was.

  He knew Johnny meant well, even if he was takin’ the piss while doing it. Ringo needed to tell Rory. The band never had secrets, mostly because they are impossible to hide.

  Ringo surrendered and slumped back in his drum stool. “Fine, fine… I’ll tell Rory.”

  “Do you really think he’ll take it that bad? He might be fine, he’s always bantering with John n’ all.”

  Rory did have a strange relationship with John. Emphasis on relationship. John certainly was with Paul, there was no question about those too. But John and Rory always seemed to have a weird flirtatious quality to their “intimidation”. Clearly nothing either of the two meant, just a playing off each other's cheeky attitude. But- it made Ringo wonder if Rory and them really weren’t meant to overlap. Was Ringo dating George against some kind of rule?

  “I don’t know Johnny, but I need to tell him before-”

  “Before he sees right through your smitten arse?” Johnny chimed.

  “Piss off! You’re no help.” Ringo chuckled and shoved Johnny’s arm away. “Go tune your guitar or somthing you wanker.”

  ____________________

  It was 30 minutes until the set started and Rory and the rest of the band were just about ready. It was only about 4, so the crowd turn out wouldn’t build up till nearly 6. 

  There was still no sign of the Beatles. Ringo figetted at his drum set. Despite not having any numbers tonight, The Beatles never missed a gig. For weeks he’d seen George in the audience having beers and watching them play till the end of the night. They’d never been late either. Always a little early, so John could get in a few beers to heckle between songs.

  Now it was almost time for the first song, and Ringo hasn’t seen any of them out here. What if the date hadn’t gone as well as he thought? Maybe the gay bar was too overwhelming? Or maybe it was too little ? Not enough excitement. Had he fucked up? Said something? Was… was it the kiss ? He knew George had kissed him this time, but was it not what he expected? It was certainly… intense. Really hot too, he could remember how warm and wet his bottom lip had felt between George’s. Maybe he was a bad kisser and George was so disappointed he doesn’ want any reason to even look at him. Rory Storm and the Hurricane’s drummer “the worst kisser ev-”

  “Well! If it isn’t Rory and his shit storm!” 

  Ringo’s head had sprung up. He knew that crude greeting anywhere.

  John was perched at the front door with a toothy smile, clearly ready to spare with Rory before the show. Paul was never far behind, he was shaking his head as his boyfriend made an ass of himself as per usual. Ringo tilted his head, trying to get a glimpse behind Paul, but there was no George in sight.

   It looked like it was just the two of them, but- it was never just the two of them? Ringo glanced up at Johnny and felt his chest get tight. He’s not here.

  Ringo dipped his head down and excused himself, he turned the corner and started walking off the stage. He didn’t come…

  The date had gone so well. He felt super dizzy trying to wrap his head around all the confusion that washed over him. He knew he never felt that way about anyone so quickly and now he needed to go take breather and try not to completely embarrass-

  In a b-line for the basement, the step of the stairs caught Ringo’s foot and he fell forward into the dark stairway.

  Before Ringo could even brace himself for a nasty tumble down the stairs, he felt himself wrapped in two long arms. Two leathery arms.

  “Wha- Ritchie?”

  Ringo’s heart accelerated. George- that’s George’s arms.

  “George? You’re here!” Ringo sputtered against George’s chest, then regaining his balance at the top step and making room for him to climb up. “Course I am Ringo, I wouldn't miss your shows for the world. I just came down here for the toilets.” He shrugged, smiling at Ringo’s wide eyes.

  “I um- I wasn’t sure you were coming.” Ringo chuckled as he stuck his hands in his pockets. He tried to play it casual, and totally act like he wasn’t about to hyperventilate in the bathroom over one date. Even in this shitty backhall lighting George still had the most attractive features when he smiled at Ringo. And that just made him even more flustered.

  “You didn’t think after such a charmin’ date i’d leave you out to dry did ya?”

  Glancing up at George, Ringo was so fucking smitten he could hardly believe he thought George would do that. He liked the date just as much. Which also meant he wasn’t a bad kisser afterall. Thank fuckin goodness. The kiss they’d had had felt far too good to be a deal breaker. The way they sunk against each other so easily had to be right, everything. Everything about it from their hands, to their lips, was just so damn perfect...

  Ringo glanced past George at the storeroom door behind him… that dusty, awful, private storeroom. (with a lock of all things.)

      _________________

  George felt his cheeks get red at the hot-blooded look in Ringo’s eyes, he loved how one minute he could look as soft and sweet and maybe even a bit flustered one second… then, well… sexy the next. George felt his own body lean back against the wall, hoping Ringo would follow closer.

  Wait- is this a good idea though? I mean- here? In THE HALL?

  “Ritchie, someone could come this way any second.” George reasoned, pretending like he totally didn’t just grab onto Ringo's shirt collar.

  Ringo had both arms on either side of George’s face, while George leaned down a tad with buckled knees so they could be level with each other. (or George is literally weak in the knees for Ringo, but go off-)

   Ringo’s eyes broke from George’s a split second as he eyed the storeroom one last time. 

  Fuck it.

   Before making another move for the handle beside them Ringo’s breath ghosted over George’s cheek. “I think I know a good place.”

___________________________

“John you rat bastard! Keep it down!” Paul shouted probably even louder than John had even yelled.

  “Com’on Macca, I promise I won't embarrass you this time.” John said sliding his arm around Paul’s shoulders and threatening him with a nip behind the ear. “Fuck- quit that, you’re already embarrssing me you shit.”

  John pulled Paul to the side of the bar and ordered a beer while he waited for Rory to make his grand entrance. “Oi, where’d Geo head off to? Didn’t he run ahead of us?”

  Paul sighed and crossed his arms. “Think he said he had to take a piss, I told him to go before we left, but the dumbass was too eager to get going I guess.” 

  “Hmph, I bet he was…” John wiggled his brows, noticing the vacant drum set he could have sworn was occupied not too long ago. Paul gave John a swift kick in the leg under the bar counter earning himself a wince from his boyfriend. “Don’t you even fucking try it.”

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  Paul grabbed John by his jacket. “You’re scheming! You can throw yourself at Rory all you want, but don’t heckle any shit at Ringo about their date. Stay. Out. of. It.” Paul was nose to nose with John, and despite the angry look in his eyes and the hiss in his tone, John was turned on as hell by it.

  “Macca! I wasn’t even thinking of- wait, what do you mean? I don’t “throw myself at Rory”, sounds to me like you’re a little jealous Paulie.” John leaned forward and smirked as he bit the side of his lip seductively… which only earned him another kick in the leg.

  “Fuck you John.” Paul huffed, taking a big swig of John’s beer. “Just leave them alone okay?”

  John rubbed at his bruised calf and stood up from the stool. “ Well, It doesn’t look like I’m going to get to jeer anyone this evening.” He puffed his chest and turned to the rest of the bar patroons. “I guess “Liverpool’s Golden Boy” hasn’t got the guts to share a drink with me!” John shouted with his hands cuffed over his mouth.

  Paul heard the side door of the bar open and there stood the golden boy himself. Dawning his signature bright blue suit he had to contrast his bandmate’s pink ones. The young man stood well dressed and well groomed with his blonde quiff perfectly curled above his forehead. Paul couldn't stand it.

  “Quiet down Lennon! I’m going to lose my hearing with all yer yelling.” The cheery stutter of Rory Storm beamed from the back of the bar. “I was out back having a ciggy, fancy seeing you here.” Rory teased while he approached the bar for a beer of his own. “If I didn't know better Lennon, I’d say you were falling' for my charms, seen you in here a lot lately.”

  Paul shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Somehow when these two did their little “dance” he always managed to get forgotten, as if Paul wasn't even there. John’s boyfriend .

  John told him plenty of times this was just teasing, he insists that Rory’s got to be as straight as a board. Not with that fucking hair he’s not. But- even though Paul mostly ignores it and nothing ever really gets physical, he still can’t really watch for too long… He gets jealous far too easily.

  “Nah, despite those charms, you know I love to watch a good laugh when I can.” John winked, stealing his beer back from Paul and downing the rest.

  “You know you could learn a thing or too Lennon, instead of being a showboat, you could actually try and entertain for a change.” Rory said tugging at the sleeve of John's rugged leather jacket.

  See? What’s that about? How straight is that? Paul was nearly ready to tune out. He averted his eyes to look past Rory hoping he could catch George coming from the bathroom so his boiling blood could cool down. 

  John followed the remark with a light flick of Rory’s tuft up hair. “Sure, maybe in Liverpool you have it all, but here mate, all your flips and tricks are just a side act.”

  They both grinned widely at each other, almost like every quip they made only fueled the other. The showoff and the showman. Bastards.

  Rory gave a chuckle, “And where’s the rest of your act then? Word on the street is you’re short a drummer.”

  John shrugged, “Ol’ Pete? He hightailed it back to Liverpool, we’ve got a replacement coming in soon though. Suppose I can’t say the same for your drummer.” John chided giving Rory a cheeky grin. Rory followed John’s eyes to the empty drum kit.

  Paul was fuming in his seat. He couldn’t stop listening to John’s weaving web. John may not be doing his usual flirting, but this was almost worse. He could see right through his playful jabs, but poor Rory looked more confused than ever.

  He better not fucking say it.

  John stood up and leaned in close to Rory, close enough to whisper his next jest in his ear “It really would be a shame if you lost that drummer of yours huh? He's real geer, any band could use one like im’. 

  Rory furrowed his brows. “Sorry Lennon, he’s not for sale if that’s what you’re asking. Ringo’s ours.” John’s eyes looked knowingly into Rory’s, like he was holding in a secret he couldn’t bear to hold any longer, but oh he loved to watch Rory squirm for it.

  Paul felt his fists clench.

  Don’t even try John-

  “He might be- for now, but if you haven’t noticed...”

  Paul knelt up and yanked John back in his seat and out of Rory’s face. “Shut it John!”

  “Pipe down Macca, I’ve got something to tell Rory here!” John stood back up with Paul’s hand firmly locked on his arm… 

  Paul knows he can’t stop him. John was already too excited, too eager to tell his little secret, a secret he has no right to tell, but it’s one Paul can’t control.

  “You just better keep an eye on that drummer” John insinuated with a quiet  breath “because I know Georgie sure is.”

  Paul swore that Rory’s eyes shot open widely as if what John’s had said still wasn’t making any bit of sense.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, John’s voice returned to his loud ever casual self, as if he hadn’t just scared the living daylights out of Rory who stood completely dumbfounded “Oh yeah, those too are practically an item now, and it looks to me that George really fancies him. Especially all that drumming he does, sometimes it’s all he ever talks-” 

  “WOW! Rory would you look at that! I think that’s Ringo on stage now! Gee, suppose’ we better have a seat so you can get to playing.” Paul cut in as soon as he saw an opportunity, quickly dragging John’s smug face to the back of the bar. With Rory’s furrowed brows and squinted eyes following them.

  “You never listen huh? You’ve always got to meddle.” Paul murmured angrily into John’s ear as he seated himself down in their usual table.

  “Quit pushing me! Geez Paul, I’m just having a bit of fun, it’s all just banter to Rory anyhow.”

  Paul knew that wasn’t true. With John it was never that simple. There was always an angle no matter what he said. The last thing he needed was John messing things up for George. The lad was really into Ringo. Paul could read it all over his face. It reminded him of how over the moon he was when he met John. The giddy twinkle in his eyes, the way he smiled after his date last night and refused to give them even a single detail. All Paul had to do was look at that grin George had after he rested his head down to sleep, he could practically feel his own cheeks ache at the look of it. Paul felt the same way for John, the very day he asked him to write songs together for the first time... How he’d do anything for him in that moment, like join his band, or quit school, or go over to another country and sleep in a shitty cinema room…

  No. He knew George. If he found out what John was doing it would only make him anxious. That- or super pissed off. Either way, he had to keep it quiet. This was all too impotent.

  “You better not tell George what you said damn it- he shouldn’t have to deal with your shit, he’s 18.” Paul sneered under his breath, loud enough for John to hear.

  “Exactly- He’s not a damn child Macca.”

  Paul looked up, his eyes piercing into John’s very soul . “You’re right, he’s not, and neither are you” He deadpanned. “so you're going to listen this one damn time, and not tell him .”

  “Tell who what?”

  Paul felt his entire body turn to ice. George was looking at them both, raising his brow curiously. Paul was practically on John's side, looking more stressed than that one time he had dropped his only comb in the cinema’s toilet, and John was red in the face, holding back some kind of cough or noise in the back of his throat. 

  “Damn, you guys are weird when I’m not around…”

  Somehow, George’s dismissiveness was a relief. Thank God. Paul gave one last glare at John before scooting over so George could sit. Taking a look at George, Paul’s eyes nearly fall out of his head. “What the fuck got into you?” Paul blurted out, seeing the guitarist’s hair pointed in every which way and leather jacket practically hanging off his shoulders.

  Wait- did he?

  George’s eyes stared back at Paul with what he could only describe as “oh fuck”.

  “Fucking hell Paulie! You’re acting like you’ve never snogged in a bathroom before!” John bellowed as he gave George a slap on the back that was way too hard. 

  “It wasn’t in a bathr-” George shut his jaw quickly and pretended to clear his throat.

Paul shook his head in disbelief. “Wait, you really?” Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing, he knew this would happen, if anything, he wanted George to get to enjoy stuff like that but- 

 “In the back of a BAR? After one date!” Paul suddenly released in disbelief. Not meaning to say it out loud.

  “YES PAUL! Okay! Now can we shut up and watch the show?” George put his head on the table not looking mentally prepared to deal with talking about his make out habits at the table. Too bad though, Paul had more questions.

  “But- your first make out though? The back of-”

  George’s head sprang up in defense. “Who said it was my first!” George then had the look of instant regret, this is what Paul wanTED.

  “For God’s sake Macca, he’s 18 remember?” John cut in with a smug grin on his face as he threw Paul’s own words back at him.

  Paul’s mouth opened one last time, but then decided against it, he dropped the conversation and George finally relaxed into his seat. “I’ll- um, I’ll tell you about it later okay?” George simpered quietly to Paul.

  With that Paul could relax too. He wanted for George to feel comfortable asking for help and talking about his relationship. It’s all going to be so new for him. He shouldn’t be alone if he gets nervous or scared. Paul looked to John who was nursing a new beer, while George looked longingly up at the stage as he always did. A small smile crept up Paul’s lips. Well at least he’s happy.

  Leaning back against John’s chest he felt his arm pull him close out of habit, though he was still mad, he was at the very least- grateful. John didn’t tell George what he had done, like Paul had  asked. Yet, there was still an uneasiness, like something was going in motion, something Paul can’t stop. He knew the plan John had going on in his head, whatever it was, was going to bite them both in the ass sooner or later.

Hopefully later.