Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants. Roger seems to live by that motto. You're certain he has more than enough. But he's determined to prove you wrong.
w/c: 12k (oops?)
a/n: Here it is! My LOC Event Fic for the wonderful darling @brianandthemays 🌈 This is my first time publishing something for Roger, so I'm a bit anxious, but mostly excited! I sincerely hope you enjoy this lovie 💖 Thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for hosting another fun event! Without further ado...
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Freddie escorted you through the doors of his favorite overpriced coffee shop, a Thursday afternoon tradition. Like always, you followed behind your friend and complained about the things that had gone wrong all week since the last Thursday like this one.
"...And not only did my internship get canceled, but they dropped the whole production. Now it's too late for me to sign up to any other until the fall." You fretted all the way to the back of the place, plopping down in a booth across from Freddie. He was entirely overdressed for the casual occasion, but you'd be worried if he wasn't.
"Well, you think you've got it bad, dear, we're on an actual fucking deadline for once. We have to record in two months and we have no songs, and no place to stay and rehearse for a month. All our neighbors have had enough." Freddie waved his hand and widened his eyes, only trying to relate to you by airing out his own misfortunes.
"You're kidding, right?" You narrowed your eyes as Freddie waited for you to make clear what you thought was already obvious. That's when a barista brought out your usual drinks. The staff had come to expect you and Freddie to twirl in like clockwork and order the same drinks at the same time each week. So eventually, someone started making your orders ahead of time.
"Decaf tea and a piping hot black coffee." A familiar girl placed mismatched cups between yourself and Freddie. Your feather haired friend bowed to the barista who laughed on her spin the other direction.
"Fred!" You snapped his attention back on you, wrapping your fingers around the steaming mug.
"My dad owns that countryside villa in Surrey." You reminded. "Well, it's more of a done up farmhouse. But, still." The countryside getaway was more quaint than Romanesque, but it was big enough for a band. Freddie's obsidian eyes sparkled, maybe with remembrance, but you couldn't tell past the obvious hope that flooded his gaze.
"Oh, darling. Do you think we could come and stay for a while? We just need a place to write and rehearse before we record. Could you help?"
"I'll see what I can do. We have a big empty barn where you could set up your instruments to practice." You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.
"You'd save my life darling, you'd absolutely be my queen." Freddie fawned.
"Yeah yeah, some friends we are. I've talked about spending summers in Surrey more than anything. Do you even know me?" You dramatically provoked, sticking your lip out for show.
"I know that you always order decaf tea. And that your dad owns a place in Surrey. And that I'd do anything for you if we got to stay."
"You're in luck... I haven't got anything better to do this year!" You laughed, albeit a little somberly. You had always loved wasting away summers in the countryside. But, until recently, you'd finally been an arm's length away from dipping your toes into the metaphorical waters of your dream job. You'd finally felt like the future was at your doorstep, and it was all canceled in the blink of an eye.
///
You followed Freddie home from the coffee shop, at his behest. When the sunset, he and his three best friends were scheduled to put on a show. And according to Freddie, you needed something new and fun to wear. At the foot of his bed, he tossed dresses and tops and scarves over his shoulder, digging in an old chest for something your style. You leaned against his pillows, laughing as your friend argued with himself while matching patterns.
From behind Freddies halfway shut bedroom door, you heard the front lock turn and a bright giggle you didn't recognize echo into the flat.
"Roger's home." Freddie looked up to you, holding out a dress and jacket to imagine how it might fit your form.
"That doesn't sound much like Roger." You laughed, posing in place as Freddie held up another outfit. With a look, he moved to click his bedroom door shut.
"You're right. It sounds like Ivy. Who I'm sure is a fine girl, but is entirely wrong for Roger." Freddie tossed a floral number your way as he shut the lid of the chest decidedly. You let out an "Ah," of understanding moving to change your outfit.
"Is anybody right for Roger?" You chuckled, thinking to the few long evenings you'd spent getting to know Queen's drummer. He was deadly funny, and jarringly good looking. With an overload of talent and style, you recognized Mr. Taylor as one of the most sought after bachelors in the region- using the word bachelor loosely. He always seemed to have a lady on his arm. At least one girl was hot on Rogers trail each time you'd been near him.
"Well, yes." Freddie sang, leafing through his own closet. "He needs someone driven in their own right. Someone willing to deal with all the pressures of Roger being a superstar, because you know darling, we're going to be famous one day. Someone who will be happy for him. Someone he can be just as proud of."
You halfway listened as you shimmied into the outfit your dear friend picked just for you. It fit quite nicely, even with the back still unzipped. Freddie had thrown on a yellow and black striped jacket before he sauntered over your way.
"Someone quite like you, if I'm honest." Freddie seemed to confess as he zipped you into style. He barely got the chance before you spun to face him, holding back a barking laugh.
"You can't be serious." You began, watching Freddie feign innocence. "Freddie. No. You're scheming I can tell!" You pointed as your friend spun out of your way. Where was all this coming from?
"I don't know what you're on about, love." Freddie sighed, grabbing a pair of sunglasses. "I'll leave things between you and Rog to figure out yourselves." He reached for the door with a shrug.
"There isn't anything between us to discuss!" You laughed, in a bit of shock at the prospect of this conversation you hadn't seen coming at all. You'd never had more than a few casual conversations with Roger. Freddie seemed to drop it, spinning into the main room to get the show on the road.
Roger was there, lounging with a pretty little hippie lady decked out in lace. Freddie called for the pair to get up and get going- it was time to head toward soundcheck.
"Rog, before we leave, pay some respect to the lovely y/n. She's going to save our lives this summer!" Freddie fawned, ignoring your previous discussion, trying to start a fire that you never realized had the potential to burn.
As Roger led his date out the door, he stalled to greet you for the night.
"Nice dress, love." Roger's familiar rasp was gentle past his grossly over-rehearsed line. His saucer eyes raked up your figure in a way you'd seen him do to others, but never to you, until now.
"Thank Freddie." You spoke through your teeth, turning away from Roger to hide your blush and shoot your glare to the frontman who was already biting back an "I told you so."
///
You could count the evenings you'd spent with Queen on a couple of hands. But the days you spent with Freddie were in the hundreds by now. He was your closest friend, someone you meditated with, cried with. Someone who might have known you better than you knew yourself. And on occasion, some of Fred's bandmates would join in on the fun.
John had become accustomed to accompanying you and Fred on Thursdays for coffee and tea. You liked John's ideas and the way was keen to listen to you and Freddie banter more than he joined in to do the same. When John spoke, it was decidedly. A wit filled joke, or a valuable point, John hardly uttered any passing thought; unless, of course, he was absolutely hammered.
Brian would sometimes join you and Freddie before shows for dinner, or on rainy Sunday afternoons to play Scrabble and dream of the future. You admired the things that mattered to Brian and how fiercely he protected the value of the things he spoke of, big and small.
Then there was Roger. He was always around, in the other room, at the back of the stage, at the end of the night. But he usually kept company of his own. And the times he joined in for Scrabble or lunch, he was usually too preoccupied with whoever he brought along. But there were odd exceptions- when Freddie had fallen asleep and Rogers dates would leave for the evening- when you'd share a drink in the kitchen and traded updates on your week.
Times like then, you noticed Roger's gaze was hypnotic. You didn't think it was a power he used manically. You figured it was a trait that came naturally, the inherent draw of his piercing blue eyes. It must have been what made all the girls line up like ducklings and follow Roger around for their turn at wooing him. He was always kind to them, and a few times you wondered if he might have fallen in love. But then another would follow the last and you decided that Roger must have been happiest dating around, meeting all kinds of people with all kinds of stories to share. Such was the way of a man who dreamed of touring the world, singing about it, and the lot.
///
"Do you own any wellies?" You asked, twirling your mustard yellow phone cord around your index, studying your grossly overpacked suitcase.
Freddie's response of laughter was rich and crackly through the other line.
"I'm just saying... that you're bound to muck up those ballet flats of yours when you and the boys come to stay in Surrey in a week."
"You serious? We can come and stay? Oh, how shall I ever repay you?" Freddie shrieked into your ear. You held the receiver back with a grin as you tossed a couple of sweaters on the floor in hopes your suitcase would better zip closed. Freddie promised you he was on his knees, shouting thanks into the phone. You promised you'd see him soon, gave him the last of the info he needed, and managed to seal your bag shut.
///
You swore you could smell the freshness in the air, see the vibrant hue of the trees through clearer eyes. The house in Surrey your father called a villa, was the place you spent most summers.
Until the last few summers in a row, the summer palace was a place your extended family came to stay for a month or two. You'd all get together and kick around the countryside for a while, forgetting petty worries and putting off all the responsibilities you could manage. You hadn't missed a summer yet, but each one became quieter, less action-packed. Last year it was only yourself and your parents who spent a while enjoying the quiet getaway.
But you always had Mona. The old, cheery, pale-haired woman hired to come around on the weekends to help keep order about the place. You always insisted she stay and enjoy a day or two of peace when her work was done. Mona always accepted the offer, much to your delight. When there was nothing left for her to do, she gave in to your pleas to help bake ridiculously complicated recipes or to simply keep you company in the quiet for a while. You and Mona would lose yourselves in conversation while cooking meals and enjoying days where you did nothing but track the rise and fall of the sun in the sky.
Then there was Otto. He was your only neighbor for miles, right across the road, behind his own mess of trees. Otto was only a few years older than you, and when his parents left the property, he gladly took it over with big plans of his own. After Otto had landscaped his home to his heart's content, your father hired him to come and spruce up your family's property. Even if that hadn't ever happened, you'd already made a habit of inviting Otto over for dinners and game nights. You imaged going it alone in the depths of the country had to be lonely so many months in a row.
Last summer, Otto made miraculous headway on your property's garden. He planted new trees, fixed up your old windows, and even built a chicken coop, something that provided a bit of entertainment for you, but became your neighbor's pride and joy.
He'd stop over every day, even if it was just to check on the chickens. And following close in Otto's stride from across the road, was his pet retriever, Pepper. Otto never minded when you stole his pet for walks through the trails you'd worn between trees in the distant forest, over the years.
In fact, the golden pup was always the first one to greet you every summer. The tradition held fast even now, as you pulled into the gravel drive. You spotted her yellow form zooming from out of nowhere at all, barking to greet you.
"Hi Pepper!" You chimed after collecting your luggage. You dropped to your knees at the edge of the drive as the dog bound your way. She was nearly eight years old, or was it nine, now? Pepper pranced in time with you as you made your way to the countryside home for another year in a row.
"Your dog missed you especially, this year." Otto's familiar accent drifted from the porch, where he appeared to stand painting the entry doorway. He dropped his brush and turned to watch you ease up the steps, with a smile.
"I missed her too." You smiled, rolling your eyes at the decade-old joke. The pup belonged to Otto but she was always hot on your heels, usually leaving her owner far behind whenever you were near.
"Ah yes, she has been sneaking in and sleeping on your bed. Hope you don't mind the extra layer of fur tonight." Your mother popped her head in the doorway, careful not to touch the fresh paint. She waved you inside, insisting Otto follow along. Apparently dinner was ready.
The home was as cozy as ever, long wooden halls and big comfy furniture. Your father was sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of mail. Behind him your old, dear friend. Mona abandoned her mission to reorganize the silverware drawer to wrap you in a big warm hug. The kind woman had always been like a grandmother to you. Between the company of her and Otto, your summers here were even more special and sought after.
"Alright, sit." Your father turned his eyes toward yours, gesturing for you to rest in the empty seat at his side.
"Nice to see you too, dad." You laughed, gazing to the mail set out before him.
"I've socked up on food and essentials for all your mates coming in a week. And since they are your friends, ya think you can handle staying here while mum and I go on our own summer holiday?"
Your father figured you could handle keeping order, and he made plans with your mother seem like a long time coming.
"I can phone your uncle to come help if you don't think you can manage it."
"How hard can serving tea and keeping the place clean be? I'll have Mona's help like always. And Otto's a great human security system. remember a few years back when he wrestled a man double his size, to the ground? Made him cry."
"Oh yeah, that guy! Pretended his car broke down and tried to break in." Your mother pointed with a shiver. Otto had spotted the stranger stalking toward your home in the middle of the night, and you all woke up to the sound of the two wrestling in the gravel driveway.
"I'm just a poor gardener, but I'll do what I have to." Otto declared as you all chuckled at the distant memory. Otto took a handful of dinner plates from your mother's grasp and offered to help set the table as you moved next to Mona to help finish make the first evening meal of the summer.
///
It was early enough for you to double-check everything three times. Living room tidy? Check. Snacks on the counter? Check. Extra blankets, pillows, and beer enough for a band full of divas? Check. All that was left to do was sit on the porch with Pepper at your feet, and wait.
You'd spend endless days doing just that, but you had never had something quite like this to look forward too. You'd brought some pals to stay, growing up, but this was different. You could almost sense that Queen's stay in your family's cherished getaway would be the marking of a time you'd remember more fondly than most.
Eventually, the sound of crunching gravel disrupted your daydreams of the future. You were quicker than Pepper at your feet, who followed behind on your bolt down the porch steps with a delighted squeal.
John was the first one to step out of the van when it pulled to a stop. You raced up to greet him with a hug, one he returned with a bit of shy reluctance, but genuine mirth all the same.
"You're here! You're here!" You cheered, noticing Brian as you broke your hug with the feather haired bass player. You couldn't be stopped from greeting the lanky guitar player with the same excitement, your hug ended when Freddie's voice called out;
"I'm here! Hug me!"
Freddie planted a kiss to your cheek as you flung yourself toward him with a smile. The band stretched their legs out onto the grass, remarking about the beauty of the countryside.
"Welcome, you." You looked to Freddie, whose brows rose high over his dark sunglasses, his smile glowing as he peered past your shoulder to take it all in.
"Don't I get a warm welcome?"
Roger's familiar rasp whined from a few paces behind. He was dressed in denim head to toe, and was wearing the most ridiculous hat you'd ever seen. It made your heart buzz with some odd adoration you hadn't expected to feel at the sight of him. Your strange sudden feelings made approaching the blonde seem newly nerve-wracking, but you were glad to see him. So you opened your arms and invited Roger into a hug, same as everybody else. But Roger wasn't everybody else, was he?
Ever expressive, Roger scooped you up and lifted your feet from the ground in gratitude as he said,
"We owe you our lives for making this happen!"
You laughed in surprise, letting out a little squeal as Roger stumbled in an attempt to spin you around.
"Rog, put her down! She's got to give us a tour of this place or we're bound to get lost. It's massive." Freddie barked.
Roger did as he was told, setting you on your feet with care. You pulled down the bill of Rogers silly hat and spun around to lead everyone inside.
As the boys entered your favorite place, you introduced them two at a time to your family and friends who hurried to greet them all the same. It was a mess of hello's and warm welcomes as you shut the door and stepped further inside.
Your father held an arm out to show the boys to their rooms, chatting away on his tour down the halls. Your mother lifted a brow and shoulder when her gaze met yours after lingering on the band as they walked away.
"You've got a fun summer ahead." She grinned as if she knew something was coming, something you couldn't see yet.
The next thing you knew, you were helping Mona finish making dinner. You were sent to find Otto in the forest of flowerbeds outside of the barn. The two of you walked up the hill after you invited him in for dinner, listening to Otto ramble about the plans your father talked him into, of starting a vegetable garden.
Your mother had already rounded up everyone else in the dining room, going on about how excited she was to get to know your friends. And to your surprise, she'd even broken out the fancy fine china.
Between Otto and Freddie, the usual security you felt in their company had only been on separate respective accounts. Your worlds colliding was something you hadn't expected to be so warmed by. As you ate, you realized all your favorite people were here in one lucky place.
Queen were ever themselves, interrupting one another to share stories with your parents and Mona who asked questions at breakneck speeds. And while the jokes and banter flew from one topic to another, you held your breath each time Roger spoke up. Because every time before now, Roger only spoke in playful tones, and daring one-liners. You expected him to say something that might have embarrassed you, even if that wasn't his goal, if he even had one. But Roger surprised you in a different way, one you hadn't expected.
He utterly charmed your mother with the way he spoke about his education and aspirations. He gained your father's respect sometime after you poured everyone a new drink. During dinner, Roger was... shy. No, not shy, respectable. Boyish. No, not boyish... forbearing in a way you'd never seen from him before. Maybe you didn't have Roger figured out after all...
///
Your room was full of things you loved, in the back of the house. You enjoyed the privacy, but seeking through the halls at odd hours was always a challenge you held your breath during. The wood creaked underfoot as you followed the beams of the rising sun through the halls, daring not to wake anyone.
You snuck toward the front door without a hitch, clicking it shut with care. When on the steps of the porch, you were surprised to find two of the boys had already risen and were sharing a smoke.
John and Roger turned their heads from the steps, smiles stretching when they saw you.
"The only time I've seen you two up this early was if you were still awake from the night before." You laughed, stretching into the new day.
"Never realized you were such an early riser, either." John spoke up, stamping out his cigarette.
"Things are different here." You shrugged, making your way down the steps between the two musicians.
"Where are you going?" Roger wondered. His hair was tangled from sleep, but the dark spots near his eyes suggested he'd only tossed and turned all night.
You found yourself searching his features for a beat too long, and only played it off by raising a brow and nodding for the boys to follow you, if they so desired.
And they did. As you rounded the back of your home, you stalled near the shed and grabbed a bucket from it's tried and true stop- then you headed for the chicken coop.
This was something you did every morning, you'd never missed one. Otto handled everything else, but he always let you help out if you pestered him enough.
"This is Otto's coop." You introduced the paint chipped structure as John and Roger chuckled in awe, the band had yet to have a proper tour of the grounds.
"He built it, and everything. But I come out here every morning, just gives me something to do." You waved for the boys to walk ahead of you, before you made it to the spot you stopped in every morning.
Chickens emerged like clockwork, and the boys went about chasing a couple around like little kids. One took a particular liking to John, flowing at the man's side, stopping when he stopped. And try as he might to bend down and reach out to a group of the birds, Roger had yet to score any over.
"Why don't they like me?" He whined while John laughed in response. And just like that one bird turned from the group and started flapping and clucking toward Roger, sick of being pestered. The blonde bolted to his feet with a yelp, skipping away until the chicken stopped chasing after him in a flurry.
"I'm scared, hold me." Roger reached out to you, wrapping his arms around your side. It was comforting, it felt like less of a joke than Roger made it seem. But when you turned your head to look at him, you wondered if Roger might have actually been a little distressed.
But he'd constricted your arms, and you couldn't hug him back. So you glanced back to the house and said,
"Come on, ya big baby."
Roger's grasp slowly loosened as you lead the way, but you could feel his eyes remain fixed on you.
"I'll keep you safe, big baby." John threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as the three of you started your trek back up the hill and around to the front porch. Roger let out a comical fake cry just before you made it inside to find Freddie and Brian reluctantly awake in the kitchen.
The boys gathered around the table while you scurried to make tea, and insisted they help themselves to anything in the cabinets. And it wasn't long before the rest of your parents emerged out into the new day, Mona popping out into the kitchen soon after.
Your father showed the band to the barn, and offered to help them unload their instruments in the big empty space. Your mother took the tea you poured for her and settled into the sunroom with Mona, where you joined the ladies to gossip about everything that happened since last summer.
Day's like today, there isn't much for Mona to do, but she still got paid for sitting around chatting with you. Though she'd likely turn down the extra cash at the end of the weekend, your dad would always sneak a few bills into her purse when she wasn't looking. You'd have to remember to do the same when you were left alone.
///
Your parents and Mona all left the next morning, and the week that followed was some kind of adventure- even with the little routine you'd found yourself in.
Brian ended up being the early bird, while the others milked every last bit of sleep they could get. When you awoke and found Brian reading in the small nook of the living room, you got to talking about something so in-depth that he followed up out to feed the chickens. And that's how most mornings all week had gone, chatting away in the early morning, meandering down the hill to the birdhouse with Bri at your side, prattling all the way back to where you came from.
One by one the boys would collect at the table to pick at the breakfast you'd gotten in the habit of making, before they drifted off to the barn.
You'd stay in to clean up, stalling near the open windows where you could hear your friends music drifting up the hill. They'd clatter through newborn songs and riffs that came together each time you stood to listen.
All week, you shared lunch with Freddie. In the sunroom, on the porch, wherever as long as you were together to chat like you usually would once a week at the coffee shop. And throughout your newly established daily lunch meetups, Freddie began making liberal use of his drummer's name. "Roger this," "Roger that," The blonde started taking up more space in your conversations than most other topics.
"What's with all this talk about your friend, huh?" You challenged Freddie, reaching for some fruit on a plate you shared between the two of you.
"Surely you've caught on by now, love. He's quite taken with you?" Freddie nonchalantly responded, reaching for an apple slice of his own.
"And surely if that was the case, Roger would have made that clear by now. He flirts in place of breathing." You chuckled.
"Then he must really like you. I've never known him to get so tongue-tied. Even when he's talking about you, which he never stops doing." Freddie shrugged, looking off in the direction of the warm breeze. You both stayed silent for a beat, your excuse- searching for what to say next. But Freddie found more words before you could.
"I think he would be happy with you. And I think you'd be happy with him. I just want you both to be happy."
"Well, so long as we've all got you Fred, I'm sure we will be." You grinned, truly meaning it. You and Freddie clinked your apple slices together in a toast, more like a truce to drop the subject, for now anyway.
Then as the sun burned, you meandered poolside, making Otto cease digging in the dirt long enough to ask how his day was going and distract him from work just long enough to share a few laughs.
You'd always ask him to take Pepper out, and he always insisted you didn't need to ask. You'd wander toward the forest with your furry friend, enjoying a bit of quiet. You used to bring books and pencils along when you had nothing better to do than sit against a tree and dream of the future. But this year, you keep calling Pepper back the way you came at the end of the trail, in a hurry back to check in with your friends.
When night fell after long dinners full of more chatter than food, everyone decided they'd seen enough of each other. That's when you and John would steal away the sunroom, and play cards moonlight. Sometimes you wouldn't speak much at all. And sometimes you'd share secrets, wishes you thought anyone else might make fun of you for dreaming of.
And all week, when you least expected it, you kept ending up next to Roger.
The blonde would ask to sit out on the porch with you, where you curled up in a rocking chair to read. He would ease onto the wooden steps and scribble away in his notebook, crossing out lyrics and penning new ones. He'd never tell you what he was writing, and you never asked. But you heard him humming under his breath, and you missed the gentle sound when you were called back in by Freddie for one reason or another.
Roger would find you again eventually, though. He'd leaf through the books in your living room, asking about every author. He'd appear at your side at the table during every meal, even the ones everyone ate in a hurry before scurrying off to rehearse.
One afternoon he surprised you by the side of the pool, when no one else was around. Though you had started to prepare to see Roger around when you least expected it, it was always a pleasant surprise.
"How's rehearsal today?" You asked, looking up from where you sat with your feet dangling in the water. Roger squinted your way, the shadows on his face illuminated by the hot summer sun. It wasn't until you patted the space beside you that Roger spoke up, and slowly moved to join where you sat.
"Freddie called for a break. Writer's block, or something."
You hummed in understanding, watching Roger relax at your side. And after another look your way, maybe to check if you were actually keen on listening, he went on...
"I think we've all got a hit up our sleeves. Now if we could just all agree on one thing for one minute." Roger laughed, crossing his legs, reaching in the pool to grab the stem of a leaf that floated by.
Right then, Freddie stormed around the corner. He called off practice for the rest of the afternoon and declared he planned to lock himself in his room to finish writing.
When the door shut decidedly behind Freddie, you and Roger burst into shared laughter. And for another hour at least, you stayed right where you were. Roger told you about the songs he was writing. And the songs the others were writing. He asked what you would rather be doing, because surely, staying in the middle of no place with the lads of Queen around every corner, couldn't have been at the top of your list. You assured that it was, in fact. But you still somehow started to talk about how disappointed you had been to lose out on the opportunity to live your dreams, this summer. You talked about what you wanted and why you wanted it. Roger listened and asked questions he seemed truly interested in hearing the answers too. What was the harm in sharing a few more laughs?
///
The next day at breakfast, everyone was called to order by Freddie, who relaxed at the head of the table with some announcement to make. He sat in uncharacteristic patience as his friends filled up on orange juice and yammered about what they planned to accomplish that afternoon. When Brian went off on some sorry muttering over whose songs were better or worse, you and Roger locked eyes, and dulled the same sort of snicker. You were both thinking the same thing- thinking back to the conversation you had most of yesterday.
"Alright! Listen!" Freddie demanded. "We're taking a break today. We're going to lounge poolside, and gossip about trivial things. And if anyone starts to argue about recording or writing or what you bloody want to wear on stage, you'll be swiftly excommunicated to the chicken coop. Got it?"
There was little push back and soon the lot of you abandoned your breakfast to head outback.
The boys zoomed ahead of you, tossing their things into the places they claimed as their own. John sat at the small iron table under the cool shade of the umbrella and cracked open a magazine. Brian set up his things on a beach chair and was the first to creep toward the pool. Freddie checked his hair in a small compact mirror as he kicked off his sandals. And Roger raced straight for the deep end, splashing you with water on his dive in the water.
You yelped in surprise, shocked by the cold.
"Come in!" Roger chirped after emerging to the surface.
"It's a bit cold isn't it?" You laughed, setting your things on a chair nearby.
"There," Roger intentionally splashed water at your feet. "Now you ought to be used to it. Come in!"
You reluctantly sat on the edge to dip your feet in as Roger waded toward where you settled. You turned your eyes to the water to avoid ogling the drummer, your throat going dry at the sight of his mostly bare frame so close to yours.
"I supposed it's not as cold as I thought." You cleared your throat, more so trying to keep your own cool. He hummed, still inching his way closer, making your cheeks burn.
And then, he was pulling you in. Roger yanked you from the edge, keeping a sturdy hold around you to ensure you didn't go under. You felt strangely comfortable and secure in his arms, in all the commotion. But you were still surprised enough to splash water in Roger's direction, a pitiful attempt to get back at him.
"We're meant to be relaxing!" Brian reprimanded, dodging the water you were splattering his way on accident.
"Exactly, Bri, do calm down." Freddie teased as he walked down the steps to join the rest of you.
"Deacy! Darling! You can read later, come enjoy the sun while it's here!"
And just like that, Freddie's wishes came true. The people he loved circled around your favorite old pool, gossiping about trivial things and hardly mentioned making music at all. It was the perfect summer day.
Eventually, you decided to get out to fix lunch for everyone. On your walk toward the house, you found Otto hunched over a broken wagon wheel, skin tanned from years under the same summer sky. You demanded he took a break and joined the lot of you for a much needed day of nothing but fun. He agreed, but only if you'd let him help throw food together.
When the pair of you toted trays of bite-sized lunch foods out to the nearest shade, the band of boys casually flocked to join you, scattering about the shade and fueling up to float around some more. Otto gave everyone a lesson on the kind of trees you sat under. Brian took a beer back to the deep end, Freddie following close behind, muttering something about catching the last of the day's sun. John offered to carry the empty trays back in, where he planned to head for a much-needed nap, swearing he planned to beat you at cards later.
Then there was Roger, who sulked between you and the rest of his friends. He sat near you, keeping his mouth full of beer as you chatted with Otto about all the times you'd enjoyed the pool most, before. And when Roger eventually joined Freddie and Brian in the pool, the blonde kept casting looks your way, gazes no one missed.
"He's a bit mad about you isn't he?" Otto pointed out in a hush, sipping his own beer while you scoffed a laugh.
"That's just how Roger is. He can't help himself. There's usually a line of girls waiting around for him. I must be his last resort, out here in the middle of nowhere." You explained, shifting your weight in your seat and pretending you didn't notice the drummers glances your way.
"Oh please, if that was true he'd be trying to to make you blush, right now. He's resorted to lovestruck gazes, and the occasional glare my way. That man likes you." Otto chuckled, pointing his beer can toward the boys in the pool. "Trust me I'm a guy, I know what's happening."
"That's dumb." You shot Otto a look over the top of your sunglasses. "Roger is my friend." At least you were pretty sure he was. "And I know that's just how he is." You knew that for a fact.
///
The next morning you'd woken to a silent house, and found the halls were still even upon your return from feeding the chickens. You shrugged into the kitchen, realized it was a little earlier than usual, and fixed yourself some decaf tea. When the kettle rang, the hallway creaked, and you cringed on your hurry to quiet things down again.
Roger appeared in the doorway, looking as if he was still trying to wake from a dream.
"Sorry if I woke you I-"
"It's okay, you're fine." Roger murmured, easing into the room, buttoning up his undone nightshirt.
"Fancy a cup? Mona should be here any minute, we usually start the day with tea." You explained, pouring your own drink and biting your lip.
"You wouldn't mind if I joined?" Roger asked, like you'd just invited him on some grand adventure.
"Course not." You chuckled, reaching for two more cups.
You and Roger were halfway through your tea before Mona showed up. You sat together in the sunroom, where you and your much older friend usually settled at the start of every weekend. Roger asked you'd had any dreams while you slept, and you prompted him to tell of any he might have conjured.
When Mona showed up, she eased across the small table from you like always, but in place of gossip, she spoke mostly to Roger. She asked about his hobbies and he asked about her life. Roger loved getting to know people, you knew. He was always so genuinely interested in hearing what made everyone tick. When he asked Mona about her loves and losses, she'd spoke in a vulnerable way you'd never seen from her prior. Ah, of course. Roger had that way with people, like the second anyone locked eyes with his sea-blue pair, they were in trance.
And while Mona looked after Roger as he spoke, the blonde kept turning to you, asking for details of the week he couldn't quite recall, and begging you to tell a certain story he swore you had a better perspective of.
When the rest of the band showed up, they traded sweet good mornings with your guest just before pulling Roger out into the barn to pick up where they left off the day before last.
"Now what's all that about?" Mona wondered, pouring the two of you more tea, initiating a more personal one on one chat. You cast her a perplexed gaze as she settled across from you, uttering Roger's name like you should have already been thinking of it.
You knew then that Mona was curious about all the too long gazes and nervous chuckles Roger was reduced to during the quiet morning visit at your side.
"That's just how Roger is." You shrugged. "A bit of a flirt."
"Well, that's not how you are." Mona shot back with an arch of her brow. "I know you. And if you really believed he was just having a little fun you wouldn't let yourself look at him the way you've been looking at him all morning. He has the same look, too. You match."
Mona's point toward the obvious hit you like a ton of bricks. Though she was swift to move on to your usual gossip, you felt yourself floating around the same thoughts of Roger.
For the rest of the day, in fact, you struggled to accept the fact that you'd been falling for Roger. Of course, you had, everyone seemed to expect it, root for it. And Roger had the perfect pair of eyes that refused to look away from yours until you were a puddle under his gaze; ready and willing to be pieced back together by his questions about how, exactly you were made.
You took Pepper down the walking paths between ever-growing trees, and wandered between them, the long way back home. The whole time you figured there was no harm in giving in to the little advances Roger couldn't seem to stop giving. You didn't want to fall so deep your heart would shatter when you finally collided with something cold and unmoving. But you were stuck out here for another two weeks, and Roger's persistent presence was warmer than the sun.
///
The next couple of days, when you looked to Roger, your heart started up like an engine. You didn't like it one bit. You only planned to let his flirting entertain you. You couldn't become invested in it. You'd lodged yourself between wanting to spend every odd hour listening to him talk, and knowing you were better off to go about your day like usual, to save yourself the trouble.
So when Roger invited you to come and sit while the band showed off their mostly put together list of songs, you did. And when Roger sat next to you during every meal, you offered him a smile before tucking in. And when Roger woke up to share a cup of tea with you every other morning, you let him. And you liked it.
But when Roger leaned in too close, you turned your eyes to your lap, focusing on your nails digging into your palms so you couldn't feel his breath ghosting across your ear as he told a joke no one else could hear. And when Roger asked to join your walks with Pepper, you told him no, because you'd never been so alone with him before, and you couldn't let that happen now.
The week was full of conflicts between the imaginary angel and devil on either of your shoulders. You waded further from the waters of self-control, but dashed back with the tide when Rogers moonstruck gaze grew too pretty to handle.
By the end of the second week, you'd continued your normal lunches with Freddie, the occasional morning debate with Brian, and the promised game of cards with John, when everyone else went to bed.
You poured some drinks for the two of you and sat in silence while the game started up. But before too long, John eased into a conversation about how much he enjoyed your countryside getaway.
"We're all so glad you've let us come round, it's so nice to be here. Feels like home. Fred might be going a bit stir crazy but he loves it, don't let him fool you." John laughed, laying down a card. You chuckled too.
"And Bri is content out here, with all the stars." You pointed out. Every night, Brian made a show of pointing out all the things the naked eye could see when the sky started turning black.
"And somehow, Rog is happiest. Can you believe that?" John's smile remained lithe but you realized John had subtly achieved changing the subject entirely.
"No, not really." You offered an honest simper.
"He really does like you, y/n."
"Hm..."
You laid a final card down, lost the round, and stretched upright, grabbing both empty glasses to rest in the sink.
"Just because I'm the only girl around for him to attach himself to, doesn't mean he likes me." You shrugged from across the room. John stood to join you, curiously meeting your gaze, waiting to hear more of what you had to say.
"Roger just can't be alone. I'm not interested in being a placeholder." You reasoned.
"Then why haven't you told him so? You've let him follow you around like a puppy all since he got here." John pointed out unabashedly. But he wasn't wrong to wonder why you'd started giving into the small advances.
"Because I like him." You admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And all I have is the rest of this summer to pretend that I'm not just his only option. But I can't... I just can't let him break my heart. It already hurts bad enough knowing this'll all end in a week."
"I get where you're coming from..." John sighed, disgruntled. A silence weighed between the two of you, while you stood in place, mind racing too fast to focus on a single thought through the white noise.
"But, you know," John went on, raising his chin as if that would help make a clearer point. "Rog may be reckless. And he may get caught up in getting the things he wants, so much so that he'll make a bit of a mess on his mission. But when he really genuinely wants something, he gets it. And when he has it, he doesn't let it go."
"I'm a person, Deacy. Not a fucking stamp. I refuse to be collected with all the other pretty souvenirs to be left on a shelf." You spoke in a harsh, exhausted hiss. John hung his head, pursing his lips as if he'd been personally defeated. You spun to leave the room, but someone was blocking the doorway.
Roger was clutching the door frame, fingertips going white, eyes and mouth drooping pitifully. You barely looked his way as you brushed past, scurrying down the hall to take cover. And the whole time, Roger hurried after you, asking your name like a big scary question.
You managed to shut yourself in your room before the blonde rounded the corner and caught up with you. And when you heard his voice muffle past the closed door, a silly little sadness bubbled up in your throat.
You didn't want to shut him out, but you really believed you had to. A couple of frustrated tears escaped as you went on getting ready for bed, and as you tried to talk yourself down from all the mess of thoughts threatening to make you cry harder, everything turned to white noise as your eyes grew heavy.
///
When you awoke, it was as if everything that happened before you fell asleep was a fever dream. You crossed your fingers for that to have been the case and went to start your morning like every one before it.
But when you opened your door, all the dreaded feelings you'd gone to sleep with flooded back tenfold. You found Roger asleep, slumped against the wall outside your door. At his side, Pepper, comfily curled against the man with her head in his lap, asleep too. You huffed, creeping past him to do your job.
And as you hurry your practiced creep through the house and out of the door, you thought you'd made it to the porch steps without any trouble. But of course, when you reached the shed, you heard the door swing open and heavy footsteps bounding down the porch. Roger hurried toward you with wild red eyes.
"Roger I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I guess I just got used to being around you." You let out a breath that sounded like a laugh as you grabbed your bucket of feed, and kept walking.
"Do you really feel that way?" Roger asked, voice rattling in a pitch you'd never heard him use.
"Does it matter?" You shrugged, approaching the coop.
"Do you really think I'm not mad about you? Do you really think I'm just going to go back to the city and shag the first lass I see? I want you, y/n. Isn't it dead obvious?"
"Roger!" You spun to face him, your tone starling a couple of chickens, and the blonde, who flinched away from a bird who flapped too close. "Don't do this to me!" You threatened.
If you could see up the hill you would know your voices traveled far enough to alarm John, Brian, and Freddie who were sharing tea next to the open kitchen windows. They couldn't make out what you were saying, but they could tell this wasn't going to be a morning like any other. They'd been watching things between you and Roger morph past friendly acquaintance, and they realized this must have been the breaking point. Things were boiling over, but where would they fall?
"It's worse to think you might actually be a little interested in me."
"I want to be with you y/n! Why is that bad?" Roger pointed desperately trying to make himself clear.
"For now, you might!" You shouted back. That stopped him in his tracks.
"But I want a forever, Roger. And you can't even get through breakfast without changing your plans. You can't even sign an autograph for one groupie without letting your eyes linger to meet someone else's! They might be okay with it. And if you are too, fine! But it would just break my heart."
You slammed the bucket of feed on the ground, birds hurrying toward the meal. Roger looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. You hated it. But you had to stand your ground. It was going to hurt eventually anyway.
"Then what does it say about me that I still want you? Even if you think I'm so horrid?" Roger winced.
"I don't think you're horrid, I think you're amazing!" You shouted back with a wild gesture.
"That's the whole bloody problem!" Wasn't it obvious? "I'll want you forever, even when you don't want me anymore!" You admitted, only realizing the weight of your statement after your words hung in the air, your heart cracking in its mold.
"What do I need to do?" Roger asked in a panic, stepping closer to you. "How can I prove that you're the only one for me? For now, and for always. Tell me what you want and I'll do anything I fucking swear." Roger's voice was thick and frantic, but you'd heard him sing and forget what he'd been wailing about the morning after.
"You don't mean that!" You cried, moving away. You heard all the times he planned one date with someone else while he toted a different girl on his arm. You didn't think it was a problem, not if that's what everyone was looking for. But you weren't that girl. You couldn't wait on the sidelines and be glad you got a kiss at the end of the day. And you couldn't expect Roger to play the part you wanted if that wasn't really him. You just didn't fit together. No matter how badly you wished you did.
So you picked up your bucket and turned to stomp up the hill.
"Y/n!" Roger plead, watching your storm away. He stood debating on letting you have a bit of space. But, he'd done enough of that. He needed to prove himself now.
You stormed inside, casually so. You'd planned to ignore the rest of the boys who still stood about the kitchen, and head straight for your room. But you hadn't out run Rogers hurry to stop you. He bolted through the entry just as you reached the doorway to the hall.
"Y/n wait," Roger begged, instead of demanded. His dejected tone was what forced your feet to stall before they reached the corner. The boys fell silent from across the room while you fixated your stare at the wall, afraid if you met anyone eye, you'd burst into tears.
"Please." Roger croaked. The room was silent. And when you slowly turned to face him, Roger was struggling to hold back tears, pools brimming in his impossibly big eyes. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, waiting for you to say something.
After what felt like forever, Freddie ushered his two remaining bandmates out the back door while you and Roger stood, deadlocked.
You sighed, shook your head, grabbed Roger by the wrist, and pulled him toward the living room. You released him from your grasp near the sofa, where Roger slowly sat, gapping your way.
"I don't want to fight with you, Roger." You sighed after a while of staring out the window, searching for just what to say.
"I'm fighting for you, y/n. I've never wanted anything more."
"But Rog..." You implored softly. But when you turned and looked at his watery eyes, you'd forgotten what point you were busy making.
He sucked in a breath bracing for you to keep at it, but you slumped, sitting next to him sorrily. You moved both of your hands to Roger's face, and brushed your thumbs under each of his eyes, wiping away the traces of tears that happened to overflow.
"Everything is different with you. I understand just saying so isn't good enough. Give me a chance to prove it?" Roger asked in a hush, looking in your eyes his fingers slowly wrapped around your wrists. The drummer slid off the side of the couch, tangled his fingers with yours, and looked up to you from his knees, one final silent plea.
Your heart was too conflicted, too quick to cower behind the wall you'd build up. So you just gave Roger a pathetic nod, because you knew you couldn't say no.
"I'm sorry I upset you." You spoke, glancing at the way Roger's hands clutched yours, still. With that, the blonde let out a sigh and rested his head in your lap, accepting the conclusion.
You lost your fingers in his strands of hair, accepting his display of affection, or whatever it might have been. All you knew was that you'd never felt more content and confused at the same time.
The pair of you stayed like that for a while, in shared silence. It was broken when Freddie's voice echoed through the back door. He called both of your names, and then Rogers once more. The band didn't have much more time to waste.
When Roger lifted his head from your lap, you stopped him from standing to brush his hair back into place. The two of you shared the smallest laugh, the tiniest expressions that made you believe you were on the same page. Then you walked toward the sound of Freddie's timbre, side by side.
The singer was wringing his hands in the garden doorway, casting Roger a concerned expression as the two of you approached. The blonde nodded toward Freddie as he walked outdoors and sauntered toward the barn, stretching his arms. But Freddie stalled in the doorway, turning to you once Roger was a few paces off.
"We'll figure it out, I promise." You told Freddie, before he could even ask. You knew he only stopped you to wonder what just happened. The only thing was that you weren't entirely too sure. "We'll be alright. And you can finish your record. I'm sorry-"
Freddie raised his hand ceasing your statement. Then he looped an arm through yours and insisted you come and listen to Queen's newly perfected masterpiece that still didn't have a name.
///
The last week you continued to share most mornings with Brian, and every lunch with Freddie. You still beat John at the same old card game. But each day you spent near Roger, was different.
The silence you shared held a new weight, a ticking time bomb. The conversations you traded were gentler, but shifted around familiar topics. There was nothing you and Roger were afraid to discuss, well, everything except one thing. And when the subject of your feelings for each other threatened to come up, you and Roger shared a glance in place of any discussion.
He followed you out to the forest with Pepper, throwing sticks she'd chase after but fail to bring back. Roger sat by you at every meal, looking to you first for every open-ended question that popped up through your friend's chatter.
And during the last night of the band's stay, after they spent the morning loading up their instruments into their van, you planned a big evening in. Setting out movies and snacks and all the proper essentials for any good party.
Otto came over, with a plate of desserts and some seeds for Brian to plant. Mona stayed an extra night, exchanging recipes with John, and sharing a long chat with Freddie and Roger in the sun room. When everyone gathered to watch a film or two, most of the boys fell asleep before the second film started. Besides you and Mona, Otto was the last man standing as the credits rolled.
When Mona lifted her frame for a big comfy claw-footed chair, she brushed past you with a wink on her way to bed. Roger had fallen asleep at your side long ago. with his head on your shoulder. You gave your old friend a pursed grin, before closing your eyes and leaning into the drummer's warmth. If whatever happened between you and Roger was only meant to last for a month, this was your last chance to enjoy it. You'd already fallen. Why not give in for a second or two?
The next morning, you awoke to find you'd switched places. Your head was comfortably perched on Roger's shoulder, his body turned toward yours as if he was inviting in the comfort. You blinked to the band still passed out around the living room. But Roger was awake, and already waiting to meet your gaze.
You could tell when your eyes met then, that it was one of those moments with a dozen outcomes. Whatever either of you said or did next felt detrimental. So you stuck to what you knew, and asked Roger if he'd like one last cup of tea. He said yes.
Eventually, the boys started dragging their suitcases to the front porch, blabbering about the sunshine and the city they were headed back to. You passed around hugs, sending each boy to their ride one by one. They all thanked you in their own silly little way, all of them groggy and reluctant to leave the quiet.
When the van pulled out of the driveway, you couldn't tell if Roger was looking back or not. You bit back tears as your friends drove off, and for the first summer ever, you feel stuck in Surrey.
///
The next time you saw Queen was on stage.
You'd made it back home to the city just in time to change and race to see your friends play. Because even though you'd had the pleasure of hearing the echoes of their endless rehearsal for weeks on end, you still weren't sick of the sound. They were set up in a small club, getting back into the swing of putting on a show for more than a wandering chicken and or two.
A usual cast of friends, groupies, and followers were scattered about the crowd. You knew some of them, and a few introduced you to faces you'd never seen before then. But when Queen took the stage, the audience ceased their chatter to join in giving the band a warm welcome.
They needed no introduction. Their instruments caught fire and melded together in perfect timing, in alarming harmony. You watched on in wonder, each member using their talent to the band's advantage, showing off in each other's favor. You'd never tire of marveling over their music.
After a setlist full of head-spinning tunes, the crowd thinned out respectively. Fans meandered out front, planning to linger near the band's parked van. Friends drifted toward the stage while the boys tore down their set, shooting winks and nods toward the groupies who slipped backstage. That left you eyeing a side exit, planning your route home, wondering if you had time to stop for a bite to eat on the way home.
But your mission toward the exit was hindered when someone yanked you backward by your shirt sleeve.
"You're not leaving." Brian declared, pulling you along, past the stage, where Freddie spun, blowing you a kiss. Brian pulled you backstage, down a couple of dank halls lined with girls and guys waiting to get their hands on one of Queen.
Brian dumped you off in the doorway of the green room, you supposed. The space offered a sofa, a mirror, and a table full of half-consumed liquor bottles. And all alone stood Roger Taylor. He appeared to have changed shirts, and was screwing the lid back on to a bottle of water when he looked up and noticed you.
If you thought Rogers eyes were bright, his smile upon seeing you was blinding.
"You came! I thought you'd be sick of us by now." Roger chuckled, opening his arms as he approached to wrap you in a hug.
"I swear you get better every time." You laughed, hugging him back, surprisingly relieved and relaxed in his arms. When Roger let go of you, he searched your face as you stood, failing to hide your blush.
"You came." He smiled again, as if he was just now really realizing you were here.
"Of course I did, Rog."
With that, he grabbed your hand like he'd done it more than once. Roger pulled you alongside him, greeting every odd familiar face in the halls. Some knew your name, others learned it when Roger introduced you in passing. He led you right to the stage, where he went to take his drums apart. Freddie cornered you to spill what seemed like every thought he had since last you'd seen each other. John even circled back around to offer you a goodbye on his hurry home for the evening.
Then, the rest of the weekend went almost just like that. You stood and watched your friends warm-up the same stage in preparation to tour later on. And when the shows ended, you waited around to make sure you told each boy hello, or goodbye.
Roger seemed to wait up for you. He never sought you out, never hurried off stage to cling to your side. He simply waited near the bar or in the green room, where you found him kicking his feet until he saw you. Then, he'd dare to cling to you. To grab your hand, or lean his shoulder against yours while you both listened to some stranger tell a long boring story.
Rogered waited up for you, and that's how you knew. At the end of the weekend, you went home feeling utterly incomplete. Thoughts of Roger used to hurt your head and heart, but the ache you felt at the thought of the blonde was much different now. You were only torturing yourself, really. It was time to give in.
You told yourself that whatever happened next, was exactly what was meant to happen. On your drive to Rogers flat, you made yourself accept your fate in advance, no matter what it might have been.
On your march up the complex stairs, you figured you didn't have much to lose.
You knocked, bolts of nerves surging through each time your knuckles met the door. When it opened, Roger seemed genuinely surprised to see you.
"Oh hey," He uttered, moving back to let you in. You glanced past Roger's shoulders as you stepped inside the space he shared with Brian, though the guitarist was usually staying with his soon to be wife in the little apartment they'd started slowly moving into.
"I thought Bri left for the evening. But I suppose if you're expecting him he'll be back any minute..." Roger reasoned, shutting the door and shuffling a safe distance away from where you'd planted your feet in the kitchen.
"I'm here to see you, Roger." You bit back a grin.
"Me? I-" His saucer eyes were innocently confused. He was clad in an old sweatshirt and his hair was still a little damp from a shower at the end of a long night. Before he had time to finish asking what you were doing here, you closed the space between the two of you.
You placed a hand on Roger's jaw and kissed him in the blink of an eye. His lips were warm and soft, and even more perfect than you imagined them to be. He stalled for a moment, but when you showed no signs of pulling away, Roger gave in. He snaked an arm around your middle and kissed you back in the manor a soldier coming home from war might have. Your lips moved together for what seemed like forever, you hoped it was.
"I'm sorry I never did that sooner." You breathed after your kisses died down. Roger kept his arm around you, holding you close against his form.
"Better late than never, right?" Roger mused, curling his lip into a grin as his eyes searched yours. This was what you wanted, no questions asked. It was time to give in.
"If you want forever, I'd love to share that with you." You nodded in a whisper, holding your breath during the nanosecond it took Roger to agree.
"I want everything with you." Roger laughed a little like he shouldn't have had to state the obvious, but was glad to all the same. You let out a small laugh too, more like a sigh of relief, though. You hadn't expected to end up in the situation, but as the summer crept into autumn, you couldn't imagine your world with Roger.
///
Thursdays were still reserved for you and Freddie to share your usual order at the coffee shop. And John still sometimes joined in to share a joke or a wise old sentiment in between your gossip. You still saw Brian at every odd dinner, game night, and gig; where you rambled and argued about the workings of the universe. And in between it all, Roger was always at the back of the stage and at the end of every day, always looking to you. You rocketed into sharing beds, and breakfasts and shopping trips together. You and Roger were never too far apart.
As autumn turned to winter, you went on the hunt for another internship and found something better; a job. It was only then you realized how glad you were to have missed out on that very first opportunity. How lucky you got when everything was canceled and you were propelled into the forest with your favorite band. That must have been how things were always meant to happen. Because the production you signed on to now caused stars to form in your eyes. It was a position even dreamier than you ever hoped to score, but something that wasn't meant to start until the beginning of the next year.
So when Queen released their record and started morphing from hometown heroes to actual superstars, they each begged you to join the tour meant to promote their new music. And you didn't have a single reason to decline.
You tagged along for a couple of weeks, snapping photos of the boys on the plane, in front of shop windows, and on each new stage they took by storm.
And as the days you'd booked to ride along dwindled away, as fate threatened to keep you apart longer than you'd like to have ever been, you just kept planning for your future.
"Let's get a dog." Roger piped up one night, as he slipped into a cozy hotel bed beside you.
"What if he gets lonely? If we get one we'd have to get another." You countered, snuggling close. Roger hummed in agreeance, while you settled against him for the last night you'd get the chance to for months in a row.
"One day we'll have all the dogs we want." Roger sighed, the softness of his tone and the rattle of his chest under your ear was just as good as any of the other music he made. "A whole farm."
"Even a chicken coop?" You teased in a falsely hopeful manner, assuming he'd shiver at the thought.
"Whatever you want." You felt Roger shrug. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, waiting for the catch, because you knew he couldn't possibly care for you so much to bend at the will of all of your silly little suggestions.
"I love you. I want everything with you. Even chicken coop." Roger spoke in a hush, reaching his long fingers to brush your cheek. You stared at him in awe, completely submerged in appreciation for Roger, and this moment you shared.
"You'll have to feed them though," Roger spoke as you searched his features. With that, you both laughed until you fell asleep, together.
When morning came, you hoped packing your bags at a slow pace would stall time, in a magic moment. But in the blink of an eye, you were rushing to catch a cab, glancing over your shoulder to find Roger watching you go.
It was hard to settle back home in the quiet rainy city without the boys to keep you company, to keep you on your toes. But you settled into your dream job, finally fulfilled with all the hard work you spent getting to the place you landed in. You worked, and dreamed of Roger, and pinched yourself every time you realized just how lucky you were.
You and Roger were further apart than ever before, even when you hadn't attached at the hip. But he called, and sent letters, and promised he'd see you soon. And you answered and wrote back and promised you were counting down the days.
When he finally came home to you after months away he bound your way with arms outstretched. Roger lifted you from the ground, spinning around with ease, pleading for you to come on the next tour, and the one after that if there was one. And you knew Roger was yours, that your days were better spent dreaming together. You knew you'd be alright.
rami malek : a summary
This is my gift for the lovely @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r for the Level of Concern event. It was a pleasure to meet you and talk to you 🧡🧡
Summary: Ben and Joe are best friends. Ben and you are friends. Joe and you aren’t really anything; that is until the two of you match on a dating app. But Ben can never know.
Words: 2.1k
A/N: Hi! I wrote this for @deacyblues as my secret quarantine santa/summer/sun whatever. It was so fun getting to ask you these questions and I really hope you like what I wrote! It has the secret dating and sneaking around, but it is also quite fluffy ♥
**
*****
You really hadn’t meant for it go this way.
You had been stressed and it had been one hell of a week - scratch that, one hell of a month - and all you had wanted to do had been to blow off some steam. A one time thing. Some fun for one night. And everything would have gone right back to the way it had been before.
What you, however, really hadn’t expected had been his face on your screen just minutes after swiping through the dating app. You had seen this face in real life multiple times although you weren’t sure if you would rank him anywhere near friend level. Maybe friendly acquaintances.
Somehow you had convinced yourself that swiping ‘yes’ had been out of pure curiosity. No more, no less. A simple joke. What could possibly come out of it, right?
That was until a few hours later you had received a notification saying ‘It’s a Match!’.
And until the next morning when in between bites of your guilty pleasure stress cereal a message had popped on your phone.
Joe_Francis_thethird: Ben can never know about this.
**
You really hadn’t meant for it to go this way.
Even after the match and the countless flirty and suggestive messages over the app. Even after finally working around both of your schedules and a hurried dinner to go back to his apartment; both of you filled with anticipation and anxiety. Even after he had definitely helped you feeling way less stressed and frustrated.
Yes, even then you hadn’t expected it to happen over and over again.
And yet it had happened again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
**
“You know at some point we will have to tell Ben about this.” you stated and then followed it with a dramatic sigh as you stared at the dinosaur egg in front of you.
You didn’t have to look at Joe to see him rolling his eyes whilst using his phone to snap a picture of the weird looking fossilized fern. “About what?”
Glancing down at your interlaced hands you pulled both of them up to show your bond to him. “This?”
Checking over his shoulders to make sure you were the only ones in the small side room he used your connected fingers to pull you in before his free arm wrapped around your waist expertly as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips that had you giggling against his chest. “Oh, you mean this!”
You allowed him to kiss you again, somehow never getting enough of his lips against yours and his stubble rubbing along your chin, before you pushed him away from you to walk towards the next exhibition room. “I’m serious, Joe. We can’t hide this forever.”
Your boyfriend - maybe? - shrugged and followed you obediently. He was well aware that you were right. Ben was Joe’s best friend. And Ben was your friend. What Ben didn't know, however, was that Joe and you had become quite more than friends over the last few weeks. And you felt awful hiding it from him.
Joe, however, didn’t appear to share your hatred for secrecy. “You know Ben. He will just be weird about it. And I don’t want it to be weird.”
“You really think he will be weird?”
Stepping closer to you to wrap his arms around your middle from behind, he placed his chin on top of your shoulder and you smiled fondly when his breath ghosted over your cheek. “He is Ben. So yes. Very weird. Atrociously weird. Exponentially weird.”
You couldn’t help but laugh about his dramatisation and then spun on your heels to let your arms wander around his neck.
“Fine. But we have to tell him at some point in the future. “
Placing your lips on top of his you melted against him, his cologne lingering in your nose, his stronger arms wrapped around you tightly and protectively.
You really hadn’t meant for it to go this way.
**
And thus followed a web of lies and secrecy; of carefully planning your schedules to avoid suspicion; of always being ready to have a reason for not answering your phones when Ben was calling.
And admittedly? It was kind of annoying.
However, in the moments where Ben was so close to finding out, when you were basically flaunting it in his face, you had to confess that the rush you felt was something you had never even been close to experiencing before.
It was like stealing a cookie from the tray although your mother had told you not to. It was sneaking a drink from your dad's liquor when you were younger and while he wasn’t looking at New Year’s. It was the thrill of doing something that seemed forbidden and it only amplified your feelings for Joe in all the right ways.
It started off small.
The three of you part of a group that was out at a restaurant for dinner, Joe having dropped you off around the corner so you would arrive at different times. The two of you only waving hello to each other while trying to look as if you hadn’t woken up to him between your legs that morning.
It was Joe and you holding hands under the table cover, his fingers roaming over your jeans whilst seemingly invested in a conversation with Ben across the table.
And you were not the only one that liked the high of almost getting caught, of your friend absolutely oblivious to what was actually going on.
Soon it turned into Joe answering Ben’s calls as you sucked a hickey into his neck he later had to hide with a turtleneck sweater while he was out for a beer with his best friend.
But the boldest of all moves was when you were all out, all three of you a little tipsy, Ben standing in front of a cigarette machine in concentration as he tried to find the right numbers to punch into it.
Because right then, right there, with the blonde only a meter away and not looking, Joe pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you instinctively as he pressed his lips against yours almost feverishly.
His tongue opened your mouth hungrily and you allowed him to, the alcohol combined with the absolut adrenaline of the chance of being caught riling you up to unexpected heights.
Joe was quick to take a step back when the pack of cigarettes fell into the opening and Ben turned around just a second later to look at the two of you.
“All set. Ready to party?”
Your chest still slightly panting you nodded and then followed the blonde along the alleyway as you glanced at Joe and signalled for him to wipe the lipstick you had left him off of his lips.
Yes, you really hadn’t meant for it to go this way.
**
It was a total of three months and two weeks later when things finally began to unravel.
It was a Saturday, the club was packed, and you were more than happy with your third glass of wine in your hand.
All your friends were out and although you technically knew that the more courage and fun Joe and you gathered from toying around Ben, putting alcohol in the mix would not have been the best idea.
Yet here you were. And so was Joe. And so was Ben.
You were currently watching your boyfriend - by this point you were definitely dating, right? You had a drawer in his apartment after all - deep in conversation with said blonde.
It should have been prohibited to look this amazing in a black button up, the first two buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And god, what you wanted to do to that stupid messy hair of his.
You were very right at the brink of having enough liquid courage to drag him off to some corner and let him have your way with you, but instead tried to stay collected as you stepped in to become part of their two-men circle.
“Oh hi, I was just telling Joe that he needs to get back into dating.” Ben explained the recap of their conversation, which definitely explained why Joe’s brown eyes sparked at you mischievously, his right eyebrow raised knowingly.
“Mhmm..” you hummed into the rim of your glass and then took a prolonged gulp of wine to cover up your silence. “You should Joe.”
“I don’t know.” he sighed in reply, his eyes not leaving you for a second and burning holes into the skin that was exposed in between the black material of your vintage dress. “Maybe I should try one of the dating apps.”
“Oh, come on.” Ben protested, his absolute obliviousness almost comical. “Nothing good ever comes out of those stupid apps. Only desperate people are on there.”
Covering up an escaping laugh with a loud cough you drank more wine to hide your glowing cheeks from Ben in particular.
Joe bit into his bottom lip as he studied you with lust in his eyes but then turned to Ben whilst turning his actor mode on. “Yea, maybe you are right. We’ll see I guess.”
To release you from the awkwardness of the conversation that you were way worse at hiding than Joe, you were quick to jump up and down when Road to Nowhere by the Talking Heads started playing over the speakers.
“I love this song!” you screamed along with everyone else on the dance floor and then emptied the remainder of the wine before slamming the glass onto a nearby table. “I must dance!”
You vaguely heard Joe’s “I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” as he followed you onto the dance floor and by now the alcohol was pulsing through your veins happily as you enjoyed the buzz in movement with the crowd of sweaty bodies underneath the strobe lights.
Leaning into Joe’s embrace you buried your face into is chest, breathing in his smell you had missed in the last couple of hours whilst wrapping your arms around his waist to glance up at him.
God, you wanted to kiss him.
To take off his clothes.
And - well everything else after that.
“Not to alarm you, but Ben is watching us.” Joe suddenly whisper-yelled in your ear and you looked over your shoulder to find two sparkling green and confused eyes studying his two friends pressed together tightly on the dance floor.
With a sigh you got onto the tips of your toes to be on eye level with your boyfriend and then placed your lips on top of his in surprise to the both of you - and Ben. “Let him watch then.”
Now over the barrier of secrecy Joe didn’t have to be told twice. His hands reaching out to cup your jaw and neck he pulled you closer, his tongue sliding alongside yours in a hungry and built up kiss while the song dropped into its final chorus.
You let the bass carry you, your movements against Joe’s hips in sync with it, his hands all over your body, his lips not leaving yours for a second until the last chord had softly ran out.
Ultimately letting go off you, Joe interlaced your hands and then guided you back towards the high table Ben was still standing at as if he was set in stone.
When you approached him his stance changed and he eyed you suspiciously as Joe wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, your hands interlacing with his over your stomach in a familiar motion.
“So I assume this has been going on for a while?”
You nodded and couldn’t help but smile when Joe pressed a short kiss against your cheek.
Ben took his time glancing between your faces, his mind seemingly flickering between different emotions in rapid speed until he finally settled onto a defeated sigh.
“Fine. Just don’t fuck this up. If I have to choose between you two idiots I will choose none of you.”
You simply smiled at the blonde as he shook his head in bewilderment and faked disgust when Joe turned you slightly to kiss you in front of his best friend.
You really hadn’t meant for it to go this way.
But maybe it was meant to go exactly like it did.
**
I hope you liked this ♥ also big thank you to @dtfrogertaylor for organizing this!!
We are all fools in love (Queen One-shot for LOC event)
Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem! Reader
Word Count: 2115
Summary: Roger Taylor’s your best friend...but looks like the band may need to give you a little push and you both need to admit the truth. Some good ol’ Friends to Lovers.
A/N: Hello @39-ers! Here I am- your Secret Santa revealed!!Here is my gift to you for @dtfrogertaylor Level of Concern Event! It was fun to write and it was wonderful to get to know you- I hope you enjoy it!!! Also shout out to my beta @spicyspideyme! for your quick eye and generous input!!
cw: swearing, smoking, bits and hints about sex (but no actual smut), and mentions of fictional violence. Freddie being the matchmaker like he always is in my fics. Matchmake me plz Freddie
“We’re gonna hold hands, but we aren’t together together!” Roger insisted as you walked through the park.
“How come?” you asked.
The autumn breeze chilled you a bit. A couple leaves fell right before your feet. Stepping on them, there was a satisfying crunch that made you smile. A few park workers were taking away the pumpkins for Halloween festivities and replacing them with banners promoting bonfires for November.
“Because I just don’t want you to get lost! This is a bloody huge city! And the crowds are big!” Roger explained, he waved his arms around the place.
The band and you had hit the dry hours. Other than a few workers, you barely saw a soul.
“I think you forgot…I live in this city. Same as you!” you retorted.
Roger shrugged, scratching the back of his head.
“I just want you to be safe!” he cried.
“Well if it makes you feel like I will be safe, I’ll do it” you said.
Pouting slightly, you accepted his large, smooth hand and continued your walk.
Though the other three just keep laughing in the back at you two making little fusses just like that, eyeing each other at the odd comment and mouths tight shut to keep themselves from laughing.
“It’s like they’re married already,” Brian observed, tightening his red scarf.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but…something has got to got to happen…” John commented.
Freddie waited until you and Roger were far enough away and then turned to the others.
“I’m sick of it! And they are sick of it too! You see it- of all of the sweet glances when the other one isn’t looking! And I’m so fucking sick of hearing Roger keep talking until the cows come home about “how bloody lovely y/n is,” or “y/n did this and it’s amazing! No one’s as smart as y/n!’” he added, lifting his voice up a few pitches to mimic Roger’s.
“Are you lost or what!?” you called behind, looking at the three.
Without another word, Fred led the way quietly for the rest of the walk. But his mind was restless.
Roger insisted on visiting the vintage shop with you by his side the next day. Not that much had changed in a day, you said. He refused to hear of it.
Opening the door, you were greeted by a retail worker who pointed you to the rack of sale items. There was the smell of old leather and furs already deep in your nose as you noticed a coat from at least the forties.
This is Perfect.
You perused prices, ranging from the extreme to the frugal.
But Fred, knowing you both visited regularly, came in. He stayed away, half hiding behind some blue dresses at least a decade old.
“Doing anything Sunday, Rog?” you asked.
“I’ve got nothing on Sunday, Sundays are always boring!” he complained.
He stared in shocked awe at a garish orange blouse with ruffles on it before moving to the next item.
“Rog, I think Sundays are nice! They’re quiet, peaceful…”
“Ha! You think! It’s too bloody quiet and only the church is open,” he interjected.
Turning your head, you folded your arms crossly.
“Sunday’s are nice, Rog!”
One certain outfit caught your eye when you noticed the mannequin, but checking the price tag you shook your head and let out a small sigh.
“Wanna bet!?” Roger said, offering a hand to you with a smile.
Fred stifled a laughter following the ridiculous little bout. He even bent his legs to hide deeper behind the fifties dresses with starched, crinoline skirts.
“No, no need to bet. There are horror movies that come on Sunday night, I’ll show you! You know how much I love horror movies!” you begged.
Roger’s eyes lit up and he blinked. Then his smile returned rather than his immature pout.
“Really, what channel?”
“Rog, you really have to know. Do you really just go to bars and clubs on Sundays? Just get drunk?”
‘Well, at least they aren’t boring, Y/N!” he argued.
Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where there were pants for women. But you couldn’t help but smile. Roger was an intelligent man. He was just an intelligent man with the instincts of a child sometimes. Secretly it always charmed you.
“Whatever just come over. And don’t get drunk. Not yet,” you said.
Freddie had a deep smile on his lips. He stayed hiding in the shop until you both left. He looked right at the outfit you were eyeing.
On Sunday afternoon, there is a red blouse and the nicest pair of pants you had ever seen on your bed, laid out, fresh from the vintage shop.
Your jaw dropped and you held back a small scream at the sight. The shirt you found was a blouse: smooth as silk. The pants fitted you perfectly: lighter colored with a subtle pattern.Walking in front of the mirror, you looked nicer than you ever had before.
Next to where your clothes had been was on a small piece of paper with typewriting on it:
“Thought you’d like it! Please wear tonight! MY gift! XXXX- Rog”
“Well…it’s not too girly and it’s not racy at all…but I better put on a jacket to make it safe.”
Biting your lip, you looked at it in the mirror, examining every inch.
But no. Roger could not have meant it. Not for you at least. You knew there had to be some girl. He would buying lingerie for her. There were always crowds of women after him at parties. He was always calling women up and talking to them.
“There’s just some chick he’s crazy about and he isn’t telling me because he doesn’t want to make it weird…or maybe he’s really into Fred or John or something.”
The thought always made you sad.
“Still, wouldn’t hurt to doll up though, especially if he asked for it…” you thought, feeling that brief glimmer of hope in your belly.
As Roger sat in his home, reading while smoking his cigarette like a meditation, there was a sudden knock on the door.
“I’m back already!” Fred announced, slightly muffled from the door blocking the way.
When he walked over, Roger could barely breathe a hello when Fred leaned over closely, taking in a large whiff.
“Oh! You’re smoking! I’m dying for one myself- let’s go out!” he announced, his ringer hand grabbing Roger’s arm.
“It’s fine in here, why?”
Freddie flashed his full smile and waved away the apartment entrance. Though at the force Roger was being pulled out it was as if he didn’t have a choice
“Well, darling, you don’t need the landlord on your neck for any reason: and it’s lovely tonight! Moon and stars and all that!” he declared.
They wandered out, talking about everything in between blowing out grey smoke. Though Freddie was changing subjects fast and talking a mile a minute, even for Roger’s standards. But he kept up.
Until he heard her. Y/N’s footsteps and their certain rhythm.
You saw your friends on the side of the block, right outside the flat complex. Finally, you walked up in a light coat, a little odd from the feeling of the outfit.
Oh God, I’ve known both of them for years…why am I suddenly feeling so odd? I look…I must look like a groupie to them, not myself.
“Oh, Y/N! How are you, dear?” Freddie greeted, waving his arms up.
Waving back, you gave him a small hug. Right as you greeted Roger, you heard Freddie ring out from behind you.
“Have to head out! I’ve got to meet someone for a drink- a sudden date, you would say! Farewell, loves! I’ll return later, Rog!”
He was practically waltzing away from the two of you. There was a pause. The breeze picked up and you held your coat tighter for warmth.
“S’bloody cold, Y/N, let’s go in,” Roger offered.
He walked into the complex to where his door was. As he took out his key to the door, you began to talk, albeit shyer than usual.
“By the way, thank you for the gift.”
Roger turned to you, head tilted and squinting.
“Huh? What gift?” he asked.
As his key went in, he noticed it was already unlocked. Barely shrugging it off, he opened the door.
It was filled with candles and roses.
You both gasped, a little shocked and smiling. Though your insides felt like butter. There was distant patter of footsteps a few feet away, like a small stampede of horses. But when you glanced out to the other doors there was no one.
“Roger, it…it looks beautiful!” you praised.
“Why it…it does, but Y/N…I didn’t do it,” he confessed.
He looked down and scratched his head. His cheeks were the color of the rose petals.
“What, really?” you asked.
As you took off your jacket casually to hang it up in the coat closet, Roger kept staring at your outfit. Now his whole face matched the roses.
“That’s…pretty weird. But…nice of them. The boys, I mean.”
“I just got this outfit with a card saying it was from you,” you recalled.
Roger huffed and scuttled over to the chairs and turned the knob on his tv set. He continually checked his watch to be safe for the time.
“Anyway, uh, films on, let’s…let’s watch it!” he blubbered.
And the mysterious gifts and their origin were left ignored.
Roger folded his arms and tried his best to stare at the movie best he could, biting back almost a laugh or even a smile.
But as the killer in the movie was revealed, stabbing his screaming victims, you felt Roger’s eyes continually wander to you. First in flutters. Then in glances. Then in staring. You knew because everything you looked up briefly at him, his yellow head turned away.
Both of you sat still. Neither one asked the other for a drink or a snack or anything as the movie went on.
“You do look, really…really nice Y/N,” he complimented.
Your head flipped over. The breath in you stopped and you felt it suddenly flush back in, going a little dizzy.
“I mean, you’ve always looked nice and I swear, I never really…you just look especially nice tonight!” he clarified.
Smiling, you mumbled a thank you, while looking down at your lap.
As the movie went on, you both relaxed a little more. Your shoulders dipped down. A natural grin let up your face. You saw one on Roger as well.
Roger’s hand moved closer. Inch by inch. Then you felt it over yours.
Sweating, you accepted it. Although now the sudden threat of a masked serial killer that lurked in the night was nothing compared to your reality.
You scooted closer to Roger. He scooted closer in kind.He looked into your eyes. You looked in his.
“Roger…I…just…I just…” you blubbered, words running out before you could stop them.
“What is it?” he asked.
Now they dashed out as quick as the breaking of a dam.
“I’ve always liked you but…liked liked you- oh god, I must sound like a kid.”
“You don’t, you…you actually make perfect sense!” Roger answered, he began to chew his lower lip.
“What d’you mean?”
“I…I’ve loved you! It sounds ridiculous coming out of me- I am not a sap! I swear! I hate sappy things! But, but-but I’ve always wanted to just scream it from the top of some hill- I love you!” he confessed.
He put a hand against your face, gently caressing it. You leaned in closer to it, almost shivering from the sensation. Softly, Roger leaned forward too.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” he cursed right before tilting his head and kissed you.
It was wet and you could taste the chicken he ate and the strong tobacco from the smoking. He was so close, and so warm, with the smell of sweat and shampoo. You felt your hands go over his arm, pulling him closer.
You pulled away, and then you went in for another kiss, to make sure it was all real. His hands went to your back and pressed you against him closer. You were one mind and flesh for only a few seconds. Both of you pulled away briefly. There were a few soft chuckles released with a puff of released breath. He then pressed a forehead to yours. Your eyes closed for a second, feeling it, taking it all in. The two of you were breathing in unison, feeling that space between you that was desperate to be filled back again, to finally disappear.
Meanwhile outside, Freddie only leaned against a stoplight, barely looking at the window of the place. Brian and John stood by him, with their hands in their pockets. Seeing the light go out in Roger’s place, they all knew their job was done and they left to celebrate.
A/N: This is my LOC event gift for @likesomekindofcheese I truly hope you like it!! It was so fun to make the moodboard and short story/headcanon based in a royal AU. I never tried something like this before. I gotta say I got a little inspired by the love story that princess Margaret had with Peter Townsend in real life (im sorry, im obsessed with The Crown :p). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and it was honestly a pleasure to get to know you!!! Thank you @dtfrogertaylor
for hosting the event!
------------------------------
Warnings: None
Word count: 500+
The King's coronation is just around the corner. And it's not like your relationship is forbidden, well, kind of. But there hasn't been an appropriate moment to let everyone know you and the soon to be king are a serious couple. Soon, you and Gwilym will finally be able to have a more normal relationship, because, so far, it has been a little like:
- Secret meetings in the gardens far away from the castle, in a place only the two of you knew. Or at least you hoped so.
- Getting a bouquet every week. Different flower arrangements were sent to your doorstep, always including at least one pink rose.
- Letters sent back and forth, signed without a name at the bottom, written in an almost secret code only the two of you could understand because if those letters ended in the wrong hands, everything would turn into a huge scandal and the Crown couldn't handle one of those again.
- On your birthday or other special occasions, the Palace would have pink roses everywhere. There wasn't a room that wasn't decorated with the flower. Every table, every corner, including the gardens would be full of pink. No one is sure why. Queen mother thinks it's a gift for her from her eldest son, the people that work there think is just a nice thing to do once in a while to make the Palace look less like a lifeless museum.
- You were invited to a masquerade ball and with the invitation came a small box. Gwilym gave you a gorgeous brooch that resembled a pink rose, made with delicate crystals and precious stones that you could wear on your hair or attached to your dress. You're supposed to wear it so he could recognize you and ask you to dance with him without anyone thinking anything about it. He'd be wearing something that resembled a rose too, just in case.
- When other social events that didn't require a mask happened, you and Gwilym would brush your hands in a very casual and discreet way. Sometimes he'd hook your pinkies together, just for a second, when he was sure no one was paying attention making you blush and he'd giggle at your reaction.
- Sharing a complicit gaze during formal dinners. Because of formalities and etiquette, you'd sit rather far away from Gwilym, but you two still managed to look at each other and know what the other was trying to say.
- He'd sometimes look at you like trying to say he's beyond bored sitting next to dull and boring aristocrats and you can't help but laugh slightly because you don't want to be suspicious. (The secret meetings you'd have after the events were over would eventually confirm you had received the correct message).
- Sharing kisses and other intimate moments in the big hallways of the Palace, or his office, or an empty room you could find, which wasn't that difficult since the Palace had over 500 rooms. You’re always careful, but you can't deny that trying not to get caught was very exciting.
- And even though your relationship will eventually be way less complicated than this, you knew that all of this was worth it because it taught you how to be patient and that the love you share with Gwilym became stronger and could pass any test.
HELLO @killer-queen-xo This is for the #locevent!!! I’m afraid i’m not as great as a writer as I used to be but I worked super hard on this so I really hope you enjoy it!
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings; Kisses, drunk dudes, cuteness?
__________________
The bar was thumping with noise. You could barely hear over the sound of the music and the loud mumble of voices overlapping. You knew you were probably indulging in a few too many drinks, but hey! You only graduate from college once. And there was only one person you’d want to be here with. The stupid goof with auburn hair and brown eyes.
You’d met Joe your first year at USC. He was in your film studies class and the two of you immediately hit it off. He’d been there for you through every breakdown, success, and drunken laugh and you for him. And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him. I mean how could you not? He was funny, charming, sweet, and utterly clueless to your affections.
So, now you stared at him, next to you at the table, rambling on about some story that he’d told you a million times but you still couldn’t get enough of.
“… and then he realizes it’s me and he throws his hands up and shouts ‘JOEY!’” he exclaimed a big smiled on his face. You couldn’t help but giggle, the alcohol in your system loosening your lips. “And he introduced me to George, and it was so great!”
“Haha! I remember that test. I totally bombed it,” you concurred, sipping on your cocktail.
“Yeah…” He trailed off looking over your shoulder.
You turned and saw who he was talking about. It was that girl he’d been into for months. She was blonde and fit and beautiful. And she was super nice. So, there wasn’t a reason for you to dislike other than the fact that she had all of Joe’s romantic attention. But there was literally nothing you wouldn’t do for him, so you turned back towards him.
“You should go talk to her,” you encouraged him.
“No, no, no.”
“Yes! She’s super into you and you guys would be so great!”
“No! She’s way out of my league!” He looked down at you and a warmth filled your chest. He smiled and said. “I’d rather have someone like you.”
Warm feeling gone. You furrowed your eyebrows as you struggled to understand what you said.
“What?” you questioned.
Joe’s eyes widened and he scrambled to fix his mistake. “No! Like I mean, you’re not like my type!”
You felt your heart quiver and break as he talked. You got it. He wasn’t into you. Man, you had too much to drink tonight and the bar was too loud, and this was waaay to close to home. You frowned and started to push away from him.
“(Y/N)! Wait! I’m sorry! I—"
“No, I’m just going to go get another drink! Then I think I’m going to head home.”
Then you pushed your way through the crowd, trying to get to the bar, ignoring Joe’s pleas for you to stop behind you. You weren’t actually going to get another drink. You were tired and Joe’s words were getting to you. You knew he didn’t like you; you really did. But his words really made it real.
You wanted to be happy for him. He’d probably go ask out that girl and they’d start dating and get married and have beautiful amazing children. You made it to the bar and called down the bartender to close your tab. The bar was suddenly very hot, and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic. You pressed yourself against the bar trying to avoid getting pushed and prodded.
“You looking for another drink?” a voice from next to you said. You turned and frowned as you realized he was talking to you.
“I’m not interested,” you murmured, hoping you end the conversation.
“Oh, please, cute girl like you?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be wearing that outfit if you weren’t looking for attention.”
You felt sick. You didn’t want him looking at you, much less touching you. You shifted away from him.
“Oh, um. Not really, I just like this outfit,” you replied, tugging at your shirt. His eyes glanced down at your cleavage and you cringed, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“C’mon, just one drink. Then you can decide if you want more,” he insisted, moving closer to you.
You needed to get out of this situation. And fast. But you hadn’t finished your tab and even if you did it would still be hard to get through the crowd. So, you thought. And you thought fast.
“No, thank you. I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.” The words came out of your mouth faster than you could process what you actually said. The boy frowned, his eyes narrowing.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Uh, yeah! He just… he just went to the bathroom,” you continued quickly.
“Well, then I hope he doesn’t mind me keeping you company until he comes back.”
Fuck! This dude would not give you a break. You gave him a wiry smile as you handed the bartender your credit card, hoping that maybe, the guy would just disappear or maybe… just maybe… he’d take a hint and fuck off. But not likely.
“He should be back anytime now…” you told him, cursing your big fat mouth. No one was coming. You had abandoned the one person you could always count on to keep you safe. But you weren’t sure you’d even want to see him if he were here.
You were an idiot. A complete, stupid, moronic, incredibly slow idiot. Even if Joe liked that girl, he was still your best friend. He made you laugh when you wanted to cry. He held you in his arms when you were lonely. He wanted to make you happy. The guy smirked, seeing your obvious distress, and moved even closer.
“Well, maybe he’s wandered off… but no matter I can—”
“Babe?” You let out a sigh of relief as you recognized Joe’s voice behind you. “I was looking for you everywhere!” He gave you a bright smile before wrapping his arm around you. You leaned right into his arm, feeling the warmth he was giving you.
“Joe! You took so long, I was starting to get worried,” you said, turning to look up at him. You tried to muster all the thanks and love you had for him in your voice and eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
He seemed to understand because he nodded before replying. “Sounds good.”
He sent a glare in the direction of your stalker before reaching down to grab your hand and pulling you out of the bar. It went by like a blur. Soon the heat and humidity of the bar turned into the dry, cool air of Los Angeles. Though normally, you found the stuff air of Los Angeles suffocating, right now, it was like a cool drink of water.
Then you realized you hadn’t let go of Joe’s hand. You looked down at the hand before looking up at Joe. He smiled sheepishly at you. Even that stupid shy smile made your stomach bubble. You let go of his hand, starting to put some space between you and him.
“Well, thanks… I think I’m going to head home…” you told him, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“(Y/N), wait!” He reached out to stop you, but you held up your hands.
“No! Joe it’s really okay,” you began. “Go have fun. I’m totally fine. I’m sure you and her are going to have a great time tonight and have a great weekend. I’m fine, ya know. You’re going to be so happy with her and she’ll be so happy with you and I’ll be—”
Suddenly he surged forward and pressed his lips against yours. You gasped but quickly regained your thoughts and kissed him back. It was like a symphony was going off with a full choir of the hallelujah chorus singing with it. It was that one kiss you wish for but never get. Well, here you were, getting it right now. Outside a crummy bar, in the middle of LA. He pulled back slowly, letting a soft chuckle escape from his lips.
“You’re the only person I’d like to spend time with,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to tell you all night… I just… seem to be really bad with words.” You stared at him, completely shocked as you mulled over his words.
“You’ve got this.” His bright smile was blinding as he rolled a little in front of you. Roller skating seemed like a good idea at the time, but then you realized you had no clue how to roller skate. “That’s it!” You rolled towards him, almost making it before tripping up and falling again. But you never made impact with the floor. You never even expected it. Because he was there, catching you in his arms and pulling you up. “You almost got it, let’s try it again.”
“I think this whole time, it’s been you,” he continued.
“Just one more page!” you cried, pulling the textbook back from him.
“No, no, no, you’re exhausted,” he corrected, tugging it away and shutting it with a defiant slam.
“Joooooe!”
“You’ve studied enough. You’re going to do amazing. And then we are going to get super drunk to celebrate?”
You held your pinky out to him. “Promise.
He smirked and hooked his pinky with yours. “Promise.”
“Everything has always been you, from the late nights, to the daydreams. All the failed dates.”
It was late when he trudged in the door. But his usually happy demeanor was clouded, and you could tell immediately. And you knew what that meant. So, you opened your arms and he was there. HE would cry, he would laugh and sometimes you would just sit there listening to each other breath.
“So… that did not go well.”
“And its lead me all to you…” he finished. “And I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. Or that, you maybe don’t feel the same way--- Oh god. Did I just kiss you for no reason? I’m so sorry. This is such a mistake—”
Now it was your turn to shut him up. But this time you just laughed. You laughed and laughed until his words trailed off and a confused look came over his face.
“Joe… I have loved you since we were freshman.”
He let out a short breath of surprise, his smile returning to his face. Then he held out his pinky.
“Promise?”
You felt a smile also coming to your face. You hooked your pinky with his. “Promise.”
Then you pulled him towards you by his pinky and pressed your lips to his. Your movie magic ending, finally complete.
