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3rd May, 1963

"Makin' out."

To George, that sentence just rolled off his tongue. He even shrugged after it and began to stare aimlessly into the crowd of people still on the dance floor.

But Ringo, his jaw felt like it hit the ground.

George was way too drunk, at this point Ringo was beginning to wonder if someone had spiked his drink. But they can't have done, because he had been with him the entire time he was here.

Ringo took a heavy deep breath, before deciding what to do.

"Right, Geo... C'mon, follow me." He held onto the younger's arm and re opened the door to the dressing room, leading him inside. "Okay, stay here. Do not leave, yeah?"

"M-What?" George slurred.

"I'm just gonna go and speak to Pete, okay? Just wait here and I'll be back in a few minutes, right Geo?"

"Wha'ver." He spoke, walking further into the room.

Ringo immediately shut the door, grateful when he heard the music come to a stop, meaning Pete would be walking down the steps soon. There was no way he could leave George walking around here, he was way too drunk at this point.

"Oh! Pete?!" He called at the boy who was grabbing his things and beginning to walk off stage.

"Oh Ringo! What is it?"

"Look man, I'm sorry, but can you please cover for me tonight again?" Ringo almost begged. "My friend... He's absolutely pissed to the point his mind is makin' him see shit. I can't send him home on his own."

"Yeah man, of course." Pete smiled, patting his back.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you covered for me the other day, so of course. I'll tell Jamie too."

"You're an absolute God."

"I know." He smiled, walking back up the steps.

Ringo headed straight back towards the dressing room, coming to an abrupt stop when he turned his head to the right and saw John and Paul on the dance stage, dancing hopelessly.

He ran over.

"Boys!"

John was the only person who heard him, Paul still occupied with trying to do the twist. He'd had a lot to drink too, clearly.

"Yeah pal?" John asked, still laughing at something Paul had done.

"I'm just taking Geo home, he's absolutely pissed."

"Wouldn't expect anything less." John sniggered.

"Hm. He's even at the point where he's seeing things."

"What things?" Paul slurred, now also looking up to Ringo's gaze.

"He told me he saw you makin' out in the alleyway." Ringo sighed, running a hand through his head and looking up to the stage to see if Pete was there or in the manager's office and telling him.

He had no idea of Paul and John's horror.

"N-No way?" Paul pathetically laughed out.

"Yeah." Ringo nodded. "So I'm takin' him home."

"Yeah, probably a good idea." John nodded, looking down.

"Right, see you, boys."

"Bye..." They said, in sync.

When Ringo reaches the dressing room again, he was grateful to see that George was there. Even if he was lay over the arm of the chair and singing the words to 'can't help falling in love with you' by Elvis, poorly.

"C'mon Geo." Ringo sighed, pulling the man up."

"With y-you..." He called out as his body was supported by Ringo.

The older man grabbed his bag and led George out, locking the door behind him.

"I don't wanna go!" He pouted.

"Me neither, but George, you're fuckin' bottled. Look at you, you can hardly stand up..."

"But it's only l-like 12am!"

Ringo ignored his childlike complaining, finding his unusual behaviour kind of entertaining. He lead them both through the crowd of people and towards the steps leading to the main door.

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"W-Where are we?" George asked, trying to look around for some idea.

Ringo had told the taxi to take they boys back to his place, as he didn't want George to be alone like this. So here he was, dragging a drunk George Harrison away from the taxi and down the path to his shitty one bedroomed flat in the middle of a council estate.

It was quite a long path to the door, large patches of slightly overgrown grass on each side and weeds growing through the cracks of the tiles in the ground.

George had been here before, so had John and Paul, but Ringo was not surprised he didn't recognise it.

"We're going to my flat."

"What...?" He slurred.

"Nevermind. Just c'mon, it's gettin' cold."

"I wanna go b-back!" The younger whined out, hiccuping at the end of his sentence.

"Well tough because we're here now."

Ringo grabbed his key for the main door from inside of his pocket, struggling to put it in the door because of the man next to him pulling and fidgeting with the handle.

"Hey. Stop it, look, I'll do it."

"M'kay."

Ringo pushed the main door open, and was greatful that his flat was only on the second floor.

When they got inside, Ringo sighed in relief at the warm feeling. He led George down the small corridor and into his room, which was rather tidy.

"Right, lie down, Geo." He told him, leading him to the bed.

"'M not tired."

"I know." He went along with the man.

George sat down on the twin bed, eventually lying back on it. Ringo sat at the bottom of him, taking his shoes off, as well as his jacket from around his waist.

The older man stood up again, noticing the curtains were still open. But when he stood up to close them, a voice stopped him.

"Don't go."

"Hm?" Ringo asked, wanting to make sure he heard him right.

"Want you to stay."

"Okay... I'm just gonna close the curtains though,  yeah?"

"Mhm." The younger nodded, closing his eyes.

When the older turned back around from the closed curtains, George was asleep. With a sigh, Ringo leant under the bed, pulling out a black blanket and placing it over George.

He didn't want to leave him, not after telling the man he'd stay with him. So he flicked the hall in both the corridor and the bedroom off, closing the door and heading for the bed.

The man lay down next to his best friend, pulling the blanket over himself too, and drifting off to sleep.

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