Golden Lockets

At the Touch of a Hand...

George and Ringo were in the bedroom, but not in the way your filthy little brains are thinking. George was in his bed, pillows propping him up. Ringo was rushing around tidying, picking up dirty socks and loose blankets. George watched him fondly.

"You don't have to do that, Ringo." he said.

"I kinda do." Ringo replied, bending over to snatch up an empty chip packet, "You're bedridden and possibly dying so I want to be as useful as I can. Those nutters sleeping in their cornflakes don't give the slightest fuck."

"Wait, sleeping in their cornflakes?" George repeated, his eyes wide.

"Long story." Ringo said vaguely, "Anyway, I'm going to do my level best to make sure both you and Serenity are safe, healthy, and happy."

"Thanks, wack." George said, then he cringed suddenly. His back and stomach had been playing up in the worst ways imaginable. Some days George couldn't even drag himself out of bed without collapsing in pain. He was feeling like this now. "Serenity's been around for about two months now. She's perfectly fine and I'm the poor fucker who has to stay in bed practically an invalid!"

"I could be worse." Ringo said, smiling slyly. "You could have been sterile and never had her in the first place. Would you like that?"

"No." George muttered. He placed a hand on his forehead, knuckling it to ease his headache. His eyes slid towards the big wooden cot that was sitting in the corner. Serenity was lying on her tummy, covered by a fluffy pink and white blanket, sleeping peacefully. The innocence showed on her sleeping face, the peaceful and serene dreams blocking out the dangers of the outside. Her soft breathing making the world seem to stand still. George couldn't help smiling.

"I love her." he said softly.

Ringo patted George on the shoulder. "I know you do. I love her, too."

"I just wish she hadn't damaged my bloody body so much." George sighed heavily, poking at himself and pulling a disgusted face. "I feel so ugly..."

"What are you talking about? You look perfectly fine." Ringo said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Oh no?" George said, pulling back the duvet and lifting his shirt up all the way to his armpits. Ringo took a proper look at George's body, namely his stomach region. He had expected George's tummy to shrink back to normal after he had the baby, he but was surprised to see it was still rather rotund - as if George had swallowed a small basketball. There were also a lot of clearly visible stretch marks, mostly on his lower stomach and legs. "There." said George, "I told you. Ugly."

"Don't be silly. You look just like you always did!" Ringo blurted out, although when he replayed what he'd said in his head he realised how awful it sounded.

"Thanks a bunch, our Richie." George grumbled. "You mean I was always bloated, saggy, and spotty? I suppose you're going to say this is a vast improvement!"

Ringo sighed. He wasn't up for arguing. He knew he would just say the wrong thing. Instead of speaking he just stood there, arms limply by his sides, his face carefully expressionless. George rolled his eyes and went back to examining himself. He found the stretch marks extremely devastating, as they were bright red and felt like large, flapping sails. He scrubbed at them with his short, bitten fingernails as if he could scratch them straight off.

"Don't." Ringo said, catching hold of George's hands. He held on to it for a moment, feeling the rough skin of George's tough, guitarist fingers. Ringo felt further down and reached the palm of George's hand. This was warm and smooth, and very welcoming to potential people wanting to hold it. Ringo bit his lip, gently stroking George's soft white palm. 

"George." Ringo whispered, "I have to tell you something."

"What?" George asked. He didn't seem to mind that his hand was being somewhat molested. 

"I... I have to..." Ringo paused, desperately trying to find the right words. He sighed sadly and let his hands go limp. They slithered out of George's grasp and fell to his sides once again. George looked up expectantly at Ringo, silently willing him to speak.

"I... I don't think your ugly." Ringo eventually stammered, his face redder than a candy apple, "Sure, your body is a bit a oddly proportioned right now, but it will get better! I promise you!"

"I'll still be saggy and baggy, no matter what you say." George said glumly.

Ringo cupped George's cheeks with his hands, holding on tightly so George was forced to look him straight in the eye. "George. I'm your best friend. Would I lie to you?"

"I don't know..." George muttered.

"No, I wouldn't. I've always been brutally honest with you, right from when we met. Now I'm telling you that you are not ugly. You're still your amazing, funny wonderful self. No amount of stretch marks or fat will ever change that."

"But I -"

"Before you tell me that you feel awful, I'm going to tell you to shut up. You are still George, the wonderful guy I know and love. You've just packed on a few pounds and some extra body proportions. That's normal. Stop telling yourself otherwise, or I'll take my drumsticks and beat some fucking sense into you. Okay?" 

"Okay." George laughed. He looked at Ringo's face. He seemed perfectly serious but his eyes were sparkling in a wonderfully mischievous manner. Those big blue eyes reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what. George suddenly gasped.

"Ringo!" he cried, "I just realised something!"

"What?" Ringo asked, "Are you pregnant again?"

"Be serious. No, I just noticed that your eyes look exactly like Serenity's!"

"Do they?" Ringo said, his voice cracking. "Fancy that. Are you sure?"

"Positive." George said, nodding. "In fact, I'll go and get her now. Just to make sure!"

"No, no, no!" Ringo dove in, grabbed George by the shoulders, and pushed him back onto the bed. "You can't! Don't fetch the baby!"

George's mouth hung open in shock. "What? Why?"

Ringo paused. "Um..." he stuttered, "You're still pretty sick. I don't think you should get up and walk around just yet. You might hurt yourself."

"Oh. Okay." George said, slipping back under the duvet. Ringo looked at his friend's disappointed face. He felt terrible for acting in such a way. He patted George's shoulder sympathetically.

"She's asleep anyway, and I think you should be too." Ringo said brightly.

"I guess so..." George replied, sounding a bit drowsy. He wriggled further under the covers and lay his head properly on the pillow. "Hey Ringo?" he whispered.

"What?"

"You're a real pal. I'm so grateful I have a friend like you."

"Same here, silly." Ringo stroked George's chestnut brown locks. "Same here. Go to sleep now."

"All right. I'll be here. Night..." George slowly shut his eyes and within a minute or two he was snoring softly, deep in dreamland. Ringo smiled fondly at him. 

"Goodnight, Georgie." he said in a hushed tone. "Sleep tight."

Ringo then strolled over to the wooden cot. He peered over the railings and saw Serenity, breathing deeply, engulfed in her dreams. He leaned over and kissed he lightly on her soft, pink cheek, then he pulled the blanket up further and wrapped it around her. Serenity didn't stir but she snuffled appreciatively. Ringo stroked her wispy brown hair.

"Goodnight, Serenity." he whispered, "Sleep tight, and remember your daddy is always here... both of them..."