Supernaturals of Liverpool

Aaaaaah The Night Before

Note: Flashback to the boys preparing for the camping trip.

That morning at 4 am
Paul's eyes snapped open and a smile quickly spread on his lips. Today. Today has been the day he's waiting for. He's been planning to take the other lads for a camping trip and has found the perfect day ( which was today , Paul thought excitedly). His finger flew to disable the alarm on his phone before the ringtone even started. Next to him, John was still sleeping soundly, a soft snore escaped him every now and then, the cute fucker. Paul smiled softly and rolled out of bed. Standing up straight, he immediately stretched and opened the curtains all the way. Soft and sweet colours of twilight spreaded itself in front of Paul, a little bit of light seeped in near the horizon. The loud sound of the curtain being drawn harshly seemingly didn't bother John in anyway (except for a soft huff he let out). He turned and stretched, sprawling on the bed and continued on snoring. Paul couldn't help but beam at the sight. He knew John would rarely be awake at 7, nevermind 4 in the morning (except when they're about to record something early, which Paul would already push them around to get ready at half past 4 and arrive at 5). After a full minute, Paul decided to stop staring at John's sleeping form and go downstairs to get ready for the event.
"Mornin' Paulie. Up to do your 4 o'clock cleaning ritual?" George, laying on the sofa in a position very reminiscent of the girl in Titanic, looked up to Paul lazily, his phone illuminating his face in the darkness. Paul walked towards him and shoved George's feet aside. He flopped down and sighed.
"Y'know George, I probably should've told you before that we are going camping today, y'know, incase you had plans and such,"
"Yeah, probably," George answered. Paul bit his lips and frowned. He glanced at George who was still stone faced, scrolling on his phone. George seemed to notice the nervous action and quickly added "Oh, no. I don't have anything for the whole week."
"Well, alright then." Several seconds of silence passed by. "Sooo...," Paul began slowly, "Ringo." That managed to get a very quick and sharp glance from George.
"What about him?" George shot back. Paul let out an amused smirk. Carefully, Paul watched George's reactions out of the corner of his eyes, which, honestly, wasn't much, George being George.
"Exactly.. what about him?" Paul teased. He couldn't stop the grin that slowly forced its way to his expression as he watched a blush flower over George's cheeks, the bright light from his phone screen lit up the scene perfectly. All George answered with was a frown and furious, methodical scrolling. I'll take that as a win , Paul thought grinning with pride as he scanned the room. He frowned as an automatic thought came to his mind. A thought which he decided to share. "Y'know, playing on your phone with the lights off is really harmful for your eyes,"
All George did was roll his eyes and kept frowning.

7:43 A.M.

Ringo hates showers now. Not that he didn't like being clean, but the sense of overwhelming panic and anxiety looms over him everytime he thinks about touching water. But he can't be scared and duck down on something as simple as showering. Not when he's the oldest in the house and especially not with Paul around. He could already imagine Paul throwing a judgemental look at him before leaving him hints that he should clean up. It happens to John a lot anyway. Fortunately though, this shower went on rather uneventfully (minus the soap running out and him having to shout for George who handed him a new one, a slight blush on his cheeks). As he buttoned his shirt and slowly walked downstairs to the family room, he saw a bright pink bag next to a light blue one on the couch. A red one seems to be on the carpet and a green one leaned on an armchair, still in the plastic, untouched.
"Ringo!! We're going camping today!" Paul said excitedly as he skipped over to Ringo and directed him to the bags.
"Well, mornin' to you too, Paul," he replied, glancing at the 4 bright coloured, seemingly empty bags (except for the light blue one). Paul just smiled and pulled a small notebook seemingly out of nowhere and wrote in it, mumbling something about noodles.
Suddenly, the smell of toast and tea danced it's way to Ringo's nose. This was inciting in and of itself but the sight of George with his hands on his hip staring down the toaster seemed more interesting to him. He doesn't know why but despite showing majorly public affection, he would never really admitting to them mainly because "nobody asked". He sniffles a bit as he shuffles towards George and hugged him from behind as George plates the toasted bread and smears some strawberry jam on them.
"Mornin' love," George said, his whole waist enveloped by Ringo latching onto him.
"Mornin' smoochtsie poo," Ringo muffled voice answered back as he buries his face in George's shirt. Goerge chuckled as he places the plate of toasts down on the table, slightly dragging Ringo along with his movement. Ringo let go of his latch on George and sat down to eat a toast as George prepared some tea. Suddenly, Paul walked in from upstairs and threw two sleeping bags in the direction of the bags and swerved towards the dining table.
"We only have sleeping bags for two.." he mumbled as he took a piece of toast and leaned on the wall, taking his notebook to check it again. George just silently slid two cups of tea to Ringo and Paul then drank his own.
"Need to go shopping do we?" George asked as he sat next to Ringo and grabbed a slice of toast for himself.
Paul answered by frowning, scribbling on the list, and shoving it to George. "You two shop, I'll get your stuff packed." He smiled and skipped up the stairs, presumably to get clothes and bathroom necessities.
"Wait, I-"
"Use yer card for now, I'll pay you off,"
George turned to Ringo exasperatedly. "Can you believe 'im?"
Ringo giggled and grabbed another toast before standing up and walking toward the exit of their house. "Come on, George. You get to choose the snack, think about that." He heard a groan and a dull thud from the dining table. He felt George behind and tuned towards him, offering his coat. George stopped rubbing his elbow (bruised from the thud, Ringo thought) and grabbed his coat defeatedly. Ringo himself pulled a jacket on and opened the door for the two of them.