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George wasn’t sure when it had started.
Maybe back in the spring of ‘62, when he would go down to the Cavern late on a Thursday with John and Paul and see Ritch behind the drums, Rory’s blond head almost obscuring him from view, but not quite.
Maybe in Hamburg, when the haze of the smoke and the daze from the prellies would make him feel light-headed, and then he would glance back and catch Ringo’s eye whilst they played.
Maybe when From Me to You reached number 1 in May of ‘63, and they had stayed up till 3 in the morning smoking joints and drinking and celebrating, and just before Ritchie had passed out, he had leaned over to George and slurred, “We’ve made it, Georgie. You and me...”
Maybe when A Hard Day’s Night premiered in the cinema and they all went to watch it, and Ringo ended up asleep, stretched out over George’s lap, and when he woke up, instead of immediately getting up off of the younger man, he had just given him the most adorable sleepy smile and buried his face in George’s shirt.
Maybe when George turned up for the Beatles For Sale album cover photoshoot with his hair all sticking up from waking up late, and Ritch had shaken his head fondly, smoothing it out and making it only stick up in one place. George had given him his scarf too because Ringo’s nose was a bit pink in the cold.
Maybe when they were filming Help! and Ringo had been kidnapped, and when George finally caught up to the car, Ringo had given him the sweetest smile. George thought he might even have seen a tinge of blush in his cheeks when he cast his eyes over his saviour.
Maybe when they were being drawn for the Revolver cover in Klaus’s attic in ‘66, and Ringo had insisted on staying for George’s turn. He hadn’t looked away once during that time, even though he could barely see the glint of the younger man’s eyes through the darkness.
Maybe when they first got their outfits for Sgt. Pepper, and George’s had been slightly on the small side, but Ringo had been unable to say a word looking at him. George couldn’t help but swoon over how the lurid pink looked on the shorter man either.
Maybe when Ringo got to sing With a Little Help From My Friends for the first time, and he had been silently thrilled about it all day, as he had told George later, and when they recorded it, he sang with a tiny smile on his face, which most of the time ended up being directed at George himself.
Maybe when they filmed Magical Mystery Tour, and Ringo was walking round the Wizard house with his pink collar sticking up and a pointed hat on his head, and he had leaned into George and asked, “Where’s the bus?” in such an indignant tone, or the look he gave George from off camera when he said “a song”, and how he continued to scribble in his tiny notebook even after his line was delivered, looking up at the camera every few seconds.
Maybe when they were in India, and Ringo would keep glancing over at George from the other side of the Maharishi, even though George would only shake his head fondly and give him the tiniest hint of a smile back. He kept doing it anyway.
Maybe when they were filming their cameo for the end of Yellow Submarine, and standing behind Ringo, George couldn’t help but be intoxicated by the closeness, and found himself distracted by the older man’s confidence. Ringo had flushed a bit when George had said “three”; George could see the tips of his ears turn pink when he rolled the r.
Maybe when they arrived at Abbey Road to get pictures for their album cover, and Ritchie had turned up full of swag and looking polished in a new suit that cut a striking figure, at least, in George’s eyes, and he’d given George a wink just before they walked across the road.
Maybe their last day in the studio together, all four of them, and though tension was running high, they had all hugged at the end, and there were more than a few tears. Ringo and George had left last, and before they went their separate ways, Ritch had pulled him into another hug, but this one thick with a layer of something else.
Something... more.
Ringo had whispered, “This is the end of an era, Geo, but I’ll always love you.”
George suspected that Ritchie hadn’t exactly meant for him to hear, but he did. And it was a while before they managed to see each other again.
Maybe it was the first time they did, after the band split. Ringo had turned up at George’s house holding an exquisite bunch of orchids, and it was clear that he had been fidgeting with his hair, which was slightly fluffy, but George had to admit that it made him look very cute.
They had talked for a while about how things had been, how they were now, and how they hoped they might be in the future. Just before Ritch had (reluctantly) left George’s house, he had kissed George briefly on the cheek and whispered, “I meant it, Geo. What I told you on the last day. Truly.”
George hadn’t known what to say, and he’d wanted to say something, anything, so badly, but nothing came out. Ringo let out a small chuckle looking at George’s face, and gave him the sweetest smile before walking out of the door.
He knew now, at least, as he strummed on a ukelele in Friar Park with Ringo asleep in his lap, that he was most certainly in love. It was simply a question of whether he always had been. And when Ritchie woke up from his slumber and gazed so adoringly into the other man’s eyes, lifting his head to place a soft, lingering kiss on his lover’s lips, it was finally clear to George.
They had always been a bit in love with each other, and now they had all of each other, and would do forever.
Ritch pulled away from the kiss first, but only to whisper in George’s ear, “I’m yours, Geo. I always have been.”
And George finally managed to turn his head, catch the other man’s lips with his own, and whisper back against them, “I love you, Ritchie.”