If I Fell... [TAG: Dear Ringo]

[RINGO 'RITCHIE' STARR]

The little bit of Ringo's mind that was still sober tried to get him to think about her question. It was a serious question, and one that he couldn't let the inebriated part of him ignore. The two of them had been such good friends when Emmy was growing up. Would tonight jeopardize that friendship in any way? Would Emmy think it meant more than it really did? Ringo was still a married man and wasn't looking for anything but one night of forgetting how messed up his life currently was.

He could have picked any woman in the city to spend that one night with so why Emmy? Because if anyone could understand him it was her. Any other woman would have run off to tell her friends about the night she spent with the drunk former Beatles member and word would have eventually reached the press. But Emmy knew better than that. Whatever happened in her home tonight was going to stay in her home. They could deal with the consequences of it later.

"I'm sure, Emmy," he said, not sure which part of him was answering her question. He liked to think it was the tiny slice of sobriety speaking. "Are you...sure?" It hadn't hit Ringo until then that she might not want this to happen, even though she had returned his kiss back at the bar. And if she said 'no' where did that leave him? He would feel like a terrible human being for having put her into this situation in the first place. He already felt like a terrible human being for having initiated anything back at the bar.

Emmy taking his hand and placing it near her collarbone, where Ringo could faintly feel her heartbeat underneath, was all the answer he needed to his fear that she might be the one to call things off before they got started. It was hard to concentrate on her heartbeat and her words at the same time but he somehow managed to do it. "That makes two of us," he said, smiling. He could count the times he had been able to genuinely smile in the past three years on one hand. He used his free hand to caress her cheek gently before leaning down to kiss her, this time a lot more confidently than the one in the bar.

[EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS]

How had they ended up here? It was strange. Emmy hadn't had much to drink, certainly not enough to blur her memory of the last few hours, yet in the back of her mind she was questioning the circumstances of how they ended up sitting on the floor of her cozy, modest apartment. Luckily he hadn't made any comments about how terribly unfurnished if it was still in the state that she had rented it in. The sparisty was something that George, and certainly Paul, would have had a cow over. It might have even caused them to yell at anyone who would listen about how she should have been better provided for than this. Of course Emmy would have politely declined it all. She didn't wish to be spoiled. She wished to do everything on her own terms: Like now. Whatever that meant.

What it meant at the moment was Richard Starkey, her Ringo, was seated in front of her a certain level of intoxicated and ready for something that neither of them would have ever expected them to carry out. Afterall, a childhood crush and desire to be married was far different than kissing and an even further stretch to what they both would eventually end up doing, though they both needed it for one reason or another.

Years earlier she would have been hiding behind John in their flat as Ringo would have given her a friendly little wave. She couldn't help but be shy around him. Of course eventually she took to him rather fondly but her relationship with Ringo had always been different than that with his bandmates. John and Paul were dad and mum respectively. She had always been awful close to Paul, clinging to his side or sitting beside him on the piano as they would play together. He had even managed to fix her a meal or two, unfortunately George or John would consume it but he had attempted. She would tail behind John, running behind him as his long legs carried him further than she could even dream of going. Him and Paul loved to pick her up. It was something that came natural to them. Then there was Georgie. He proclaimed himself the big brother but in ways he was the most loving to the little girl. He took care of her, he loved her, and he was more broken than anyone when something went wrong. Then there was Ringo. Not mum. Not father. Not brother. He was Ringo. He had always been Ringo. An engima. Ringo. Her Ringo. Dear Ringo.

At his response solidifying that he indeed was sure Emmy lowered her head some, blue eyes still on the Beatles member. So he was sure. So he said. But was she? While Ringo was probably just looking to have his fun with her, without realizing the consequences, Emmy couldn't help but approach this event with some seriousness that caused a frog in her throat. She had always adored him. In a way she had always loved him but she had come to terms with the fact that he could never feel such a way for her and deep down she knew that... Even now. But if the drummer thought immediately after she'd expect a ring he would be sorely mistaken. In fact she wouldn't even expect a relationship or even a 'how do ya do'. He could love her and leave her. Would it hurt? Maybe. But lately she felt so hurt inside 24/7 that she just desired something to make the pain go away. Perhaps Ringo could be that distraction. In a way she was using him as much as he was using her.

"Yes." She managed to get the simple word out, biting down on her bottom lip and wetting it. "I'm sure." But the truth was she was very sure, she wanted to do this, she just wasn't so positive of the consequences after. And as much as she wanted it she was still nervous over the whole thing as did the touch on her chest over her shirt that she had initiated. Already, from sheer anticipation, she had goosebumps that tingled her skin.

She looked back up at the man in worry only to be met with his trademark smile which caused a wave of warmth to fall over her. Already some, just some, of her nerves disappeared. The tension in her brow released once his free hand met with her cheek so very gently. She fought the urge to allow her eyes to close and good thing she did, or perhaps unluckily so, for Ringo leaned down again to kiss her. This was something that she returned, softly at first with her lips that had far less experience kissing than Ringo did therefore her own maneuvers were soft, tender probably far more gentile than the man had experienced in a long time. It was the kiss of someone who genuinely cared for the man. Whether or not he would appreciate this was probably silly to wonder about: So she did not.

At first her body did nothing other than kiss back. She didn't dare to lift a hand or even touch him. Out of nerves she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She would need some prompting to even do a little thing like that. Becoming more and more lost with the fluttering feeling in her stomach, which felt far better than the dismal feeling of loss that she had experienced the last few years, she gave in a bit more now daring to go up on her slender knees so to match Ringo's height, despite not being very tall he still had an advantage on her (even sitting). The silver necklace, a gift from Paul during the group's trip to India, dangled predominantly from around her neck over the navy blue tunic dress that she wore, cool metal that hung from her warm flesh.

The long kiss the two shared had managed to deepen and as a result Emmy was slowly growing more comfortable. Her tongue dared to etch out and beg for entrance to the other mouth, something taken for granted by other teenagers but Emmy was always careful (a result of her much earlier upbringing). Hands itched to touch the man in front of her but somehow remained at her side as though forcibly glued. Yes, she would definitely need more prompting, or at least the okay from the subject of her affections.