Chapter Text
Thwack
“Aagh John! Gerrof me”
“Not a chance!”
Ringo blinked himself awake, looking around the room
sluggishly and catching the sight of John Lennon and Paul McCartney engaged in what seemed to be an unnecessarily violent pillow fight.
Ritchie groaned and threw his head down on his absurdly comfortable pillow.
To his right George Harrison had his duvet pulled partially over his face and was grumbling at them to shut up.
Suddenly a pillow clipped Ringo clean across the face.
“Oi-” he mumbled, half-heartedly swatting it away without lifting his head.
“That's what you get for sleeping in, sunshine!” John informed him cheerfully.
The bedroom door creaked obnoxiously as Brian walked in, taking in the scene, with an amused George Martin behind him.
“Boys” Brian chided sharply, looking at John and Paul who were now tangled on the floor in a pile of pillows, giggling like schoolgirls “stop it please”.
“Paul started it”
“I did not”
“Pack it in” George Martin warned with a serious expression.
That seemed to sober them up as they both stood up and began to gather the pillows onto their beds, murmuring apologies that didn't seem at all sincere judging by the mischievous smirks adorning their faces.
Ringo blinked again, with half lidded eyes as Brian and the older George returned the room back to order.
George Harrison groaned loudly as Mr Martin flicked the light switch, filling the room with an artificial white glow.
John dramatically shot his hands up to cover his face.
“Aaaaaah me eyes” he yelped and Brian scoffed in disbelief.
“Honestly John, grow up”.
“Not bloody likely” George mumbled from under his duvet.
“Right boys” Brian declared “dressed and teeth brushed, breakfast is in ten minutes”.
“Ten minutes???” Paul demanded incredulously.
“Yes ten minutes” Mr Martin responded with mild amusement “We've a busy day today”
“We do?”
“Yes, we do,” Brian confirmed.
“But we've been doin nothin the whole time we've been down ere” John contested “And now little drummer boy over there gets dragged into it and you want just to what exactly?”
Ringo's face heated at the title and Paul giggled.
Brian sighed.
“‘Im not doing this right now, get yourselves sorted and we can talk over breakfast”.
John and Paul, ever curious, began to get dressed, both retreating clothes from the wardrobe on their side of the bedroom.
George Harrison finally stood and made his way to the bathroom and Ritchie heard the sound of water running.
Brian walked over to the other wardrobe and grabbed some clothes for Georgie, folding them neatly on his bed.
Ringo stayed where he was on his own bed.
“Richard go and brush your teeth” George Martin commanded surprisingly gently.
“Ok” he mumbled tiredly and after a pause he stood up.
—
By the time all four boys were ready they had definitely surpassed the ten minute time limit and Brian seemed to be losing patience by the second.
When John threw a rolled up sock across the room at George Harrison, Brian finally snapped.
“John! Stop it now!”
His tone left no room for argument and seemed to have a compelling effect over the room, as all four boys jumped to attention.
George Martin moved towards the door to the hallway and opened it.
“Right then, if that's settled, we best be getting to breakfast.
—
They reached the basement's kitchen without further incident, going through a door that Ringo hadn't noticed the night before, and the other three boys sat down immediately while he hovered hopelessly by the set table.
Brian sat down at the head of the table, the other head remained empty as George Martin pottered about the kitchen, making what seemed to be scrambled eggs on toast.
Looking up from the newspaper he was reading, Brian blinked at the sight of Ritchie still standing up.
“You can sit down”
Ringo sat without consciously thinking about it, his body moving on autopilot.
Once Mr Martin had plated up their food he sat down and the boys began to eat, well, all except for Ringo, he simply stared at the plate like it had personally insulted him.
George Martin cleared his throat.
“Richard you need to eat"
“M’not hungry”
“It's not a case of whether you're hungry or not, it's a case of your body needing sustenance"
“How do I know you haven't poisoned it”
“Poisoned it? Richard this isn't a James Bond film”
“Could've fooled me” John muttered darkly.
“Not now John,” Brian said, flipping a page in his newspaper.
“No, no he has a point” Ringo snapped, his voice raising slightly. “Guns, alleys, kidnapping. It all is a bit James Bondish”
“Nevertheless, no one is going to poison you”
“Oh because you've both been so civilised so far”
Brian closed the newspaper and dropped it on the dining table.
“John, watch your tone”
“Watch his tone? Are you serious?” Ringo demanded.
“No seriously, what were you expecting? You dragged us into a basement, flashed a gun in our faces, forced me and Paul to write fake letters to lure George down here and last night you had him crying himself sick, having panic attacks and now you expect us to what? Listen to you? Because I won't. I won't do it. And by the looks and sounds of it neither will he” John snapped jerking his thumb in Ringo's direction who was still glaring at Brian.
Brian stared at John for a long moment
“John-”
“No! You don't get to ‘John’ me. Look at him!” He snapped sharply, jabbing his finger in Ringo's direction.
“John, it's fine,” he muttered, looking down at the table.
“It's not, it's not fucking fine, Ritchie, you're terrified”
“We're not disputing that he's scared, however at the moment that fear is completely unfounded” George Martin said with an air of annoyance now.
“Fuck you!” Ringo snapped suddenly, his head whipping up to face him.
“Right, John, Ringo, the pair of you get up now. Now!” Brian barked.
Brian's chair shrieked as he stood.
Neither boy moved for a second.
“Now” George Martin said, his voice dangerously low.
Finally John rose with exaggerated reluctance.
Ringo stayed where he was.
Not because he was trying to be difficult.
His body was simply refusing to cooperate.
Brian sighed through his nose.
“Richard. Up now.”
“No”
Brian crossed the room towards him in two long strides, and roughly grabbed Ringo by the collar of his borrowed pyjamas before dragging him out of his seat.
Ringo flinched.
“W-what are you doing? Get off” he yelled, twisting around in Brian's grasp and trying to get free.
“Stop struggling, this wouldn't be happening if you had just listened.
With Ringo kicking and writhing even harder Brian dragged him into the hallway with a stern looking George Martin behind them, who was holding John by the shoulder, guiding him along.
Tears were beginning to drip down Ritchie's face and John averted his eyes.
When they reached the living room Brian hurled Ringo on to the sofa, making him cry out and John flinch.
George Martin finally released John's shoulder.
“Sit down”
John obeyed and sat beside Ringo without any further protest.
Slowly the two older men settled in the armchairs across from them.
The likeness to last night was jarring for Ringo. But he tried to remember that yesterday he had been alone.
Today he had John beside him.
Brian leaned back in his chair slightly, his eyes raking over the two of them before clearing his throat.
“We know you're scared, we know you're tired and angry, however we can't go on like this”
His voice carried through the room without effort. It was low and authoritative. And made both of the boys visibly on edge.
John scoffed anyway.
“We wouldn't have to carry on like this if you hadn't kidnapped us”
The room fell silent.
Brian's jaw tightened.
“Yes” he said eventually “And yet here we are”
“Oh that's brilliant that”
“John,” George Martin warned.
“No, are you serious? That's his defence? ‘Oh well sure I kidnapped you but you're here in this fucking secret basement so that's just fine and dandy’ you're insane you are”
“Perhaps” Brian agreed softly and that made them all hesitate.
Ringo was the first to recover.
“Why are you guys doing all of this? Really?”
Ritchie didn't sound sad or angry anymore, just resigned and morbidly curious.
“We just want to protect you, you deserve success” Brian responded desperately.
John rolled his eyes.
“Protect us from what exactly?”
“The world and…yourselves”
“What do you mean?” Ringo asked, looking baffled.
George Martin ran a hand through his hair.
“You boys were wasting away. Paul was working himself sick, John was drinking enough to contract liver disease, George was miserable all the time, and you, you were underappreciated, not just by the hurricanes but by everyone”
“I wasn't-"
Brian interrupted him.
“Can you honestly tell us that your family cares about where you are right now or every night for that matter, when you were wandering around Liverpool at all hours with boys twice your age, getting into fights, drinking, taking substances you should have never been exposed to. You're sixteen Ritchie, you're not invincible and no one who really cares for you would expect you to be."
Ringo opened his mouth.
And then he closed it.
Because despite everything, Brian was right.
The thought made Ritchie's stomach twist, he hated it.
Hated having his whole life out into a pathetic speech for them all to hear.
He especially hated that John was hearing it.
Even before playing with the Beatles Ringo had always looked up to John a bit. John Lennon with his Elvis haircut and flashy songs. John Lennon with his rough rock'n'roll voice that made all the girls in Liverpool literally swoon.
And there he sat, being spoonfed personal details about Ringo's pitiful little life.
Ringo began to nibble on his nails.
A childhood tic that he thought he had grown out of.
Apparently not.
“Richard”
Ringo looked up at Brian reluctantly.
"Has anyone ever stopped you before?"
The question caught him off guard.
"What?"
"When you've been doing something dangerous."
Ringo frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Brian leaned forward.
"The drinking."
"I'm old enough."
"You're sixteen."
"The smoking."
"So does everyone else."
"The fights."
Ringo's jaw tightened.
"The—"
"Right, stop."
Brian stopped speaking.
“You don't get kidnap me and then try and play fucking daddy like you care” Ringo snapped.
Brian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That's not what I'm doing, I just want you to believe that you are allowed to be looked after without there being a price or an ulterior motive behind it”
“Well I don't, I don't believe it, and that is hardly my fault” Ritchie snapped his voice cracking halfway through.
Brian's face softened.
“Oh Ritchie…”
“Don't” Ringo said flatly “Just don't”
Suddenly a soft voice cleared their throat from the kitchen doorway, making them all look up.
Paul was peeking out with a timid looking George Harrison slightly behind him.
“We…uhm, we finished breakfast” Paul said quietly, his face flushing.
“Did you both eat it all?” George Martin asked gently.
The pair nodded
.
That earned a smile from Brian and the older George.
“Good lads” Mr Martin praised making both boys duck their heads, whilst John and Ringo stared at them with undisguised mystification at their compliance.
As Brian beckoned Paul and George into the living room John continued to stare at them like they had both grown a second head.
“You what?”
Paul shifted awkwardly next to the sofa.
“We ate breakfast”
“No, no I heard that bit” John said waving a dismissive hand “why though?”
“because we were hungry” George Harrison muttered.
“Traitors” John informed them with a glare.
Paul rolled his eyes before leaning against the arm of the sofa.
“Oh fuck off”
George however just blinked.
“We ate eggs John”
“Exactly”
That earned a snort from Ringo.
Paul smirked.
“See even Ritchie thinks you're being ridiculous”
“Ritchie's suffering from Stockholm syndrome” John shot back.
“I am not”
George Harrison shook his head in disbelief.
“He's been here for less than twenty four hours”
“Early onset”
John's quip set all four boys off laughing for about two seconds, until they remembered where they were.
When they turned to the two older men they were both smiling and looking pleased with themselves.
Brian leaned back in his chair and surveyed them with a fond look.
“There you all are, I feared we'd lost you”