Work Text:
Ringo always found new ways to catch Paul off guard. Sometimes it was a witty joke that made Paul laugh so hard his abs hurt, other times it was a subtle wink that had Paul questioning whether Ringo was flirting or just messing around.
During today’s shoot, however, there was no subtlety in the way that Ringo spontaneously hopped into Paul’s arms. Paul gasped and staggered backward under Ringo’s weight, barely managing to stay on his feet. “The hell was that for?” Paul laughed as a camera flash went off.
“Just wanted to mix it up—it was getting a bit dull in here,” Ringo said, tightening his grip on Paul’s shoulders and holding eye contact for a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Clearly this is much better,” Paul said through gritted teeth as his knees began to wobble.
“Clearly.” Ringo winked again. “Now let’s move—I need a drink, and my water’s all the way across the room.”
“You can’t get it yourself?”
“Nah. My feet are sore. You wouldn’t want me to hurt my poor little feet, would you?” Ringo asked, giving his best puppy dog eyes and wiggling his feet in the air.
Paul sighed. As much as his own feet were starting to hurt, he’d do anything for Ringo and his adorable face. “If I break my legs, I’m suing,” Paul groaned as he started to walk.
“Deal.”
When they finally made it back to the hotel suite, Paul collapsed on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and rubbed his feet. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned in relief.
“Should I give you some privacy?”
Paul opened his eyes to see Ringo smirking at him from his half of the room. “Oh, hush—this is your fault, you know,” Paul said, wagging a finger at Ringo.
“My fault? How is it my fault that your scrawny legs can’t support my teeny tiny body?” He plopped down next to Paul and prodded his calf with his toes. “Maybe you just need to work out more.”
“Hah—like you’d be able to hold me,” Paul scoffed, kicking Ringo’s foot away.
Ringo stared at him. “Alright, get up.”
“What?”
“You heard me—get up.” Ringo climbed off the bed and yanked Paul to his feet.
“You’re kidding, right?” Paul asked. “There’s no way you can catch me properly.”
Leaning in closer to Paul, Ringo lowered his eyelids and smirked. “Try me.”
As warmth rushed to Paul’s cheeks, he gave in. Without warning, he rushed forward and jumped at Ringo—who failed to get his arms beneath him in time, sending their colliding bodies toppling to the floor.
“Fuck,” Ringo groaned as his head hit the floor.
“Shit,” Paul gasped, scrambling to place his hands on the ground so he could climb off of Ringo. But before he could stand, his eyes locked with Ringo’s, whose face was much closer than it had ever been. The cool carpet felt much colder as Paul’s body grew warmer.
“Paul?” Ringo whispered. “You alright?”
“Y-yeah.” Paul took a deep breath to calm his nerves as he continued staring at Ringo on the floor beneath him. “You?”
“Yeah.”
Paul breathed easier. “Told you that you couldn’t catch me,” he teased.
But Ringo’s face remained serious. “Who said I was trying to?” Slowly, he reached his hands around the back of Paul’s neck and pulled him down.
Paul’s legs were still sore and the floor was still cold, but with Ringo’s lips pressed against his, none of that mattered. He dropped his body back against Ringo’s chest to cup Ringo’s face in his hands, pulling him even closer.
If not for the uncomfortable floor, Paul would have gladly stayed like that forever, but it only took a few minutes before Ringo pushed him up so that they were both seated.
“Woah,” Paul said, unable to contain the smile spreading across his face. “That was….”
“Yeah,” Ringo agreed, leaning forward to peck him on the lips again.
“…I still don’t think you could catch me,” Paul said.
“Whatever you say, love,” Ringo shrugged. Then he grinned. “At least you’re a good catch.”