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Freddie woke up with a feeling of contentment impossible to describe. A feeling he has not experienced in a long time… maybe never before, not to this caliber at least. Foreign, but immensely welcome. All because Roger was still here, right next to him. Roger’s unruly strands of hair cascaded across the worn out pillow. He was still sound asleep, his mouth open, just slightly. Thank god he doesn’t snore.
But of course, Freddie had known that already, from all their days spent flat-sharing and touring. However, sleeping next to him now was different than it had been then… because Freddie had finally said yes. Yes, to the part of him he had attempted to bury all the way down in the pit of his stomach, the part that has been trying to crawl back up repeatedly, ever since his boarding school days. Now, Roger finally knew the full extent of what he had been feeling towards him all these years.
‘It was worth it,’ he thought, as his eyes traveled down the narrow, yet defined muscles of Roger’s arms, bare in the sunlight. Even if this all came crashing down soon.
The chill in the air remained, a faulty space heater to blame. During their tour with Mott the Hoople, he was able to pretend, at least for a while, that this sort of inconvenience was behind him. Well, maybe after their own headlining tour it finally would be, once and for all.
But last night, the chill hadn’t mattered in the slightest. The warmth in Roger’s eyes was enough to warm him up and had drowned out the normally unforgiving cold. That, plus the warmth of Roger’s hands on his skin, and of his breath on his neck, had set fire to his soul. Enough to permanently warm it most likely.
Over the years he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be with Roger in the most intimate way there is. He had done his absolute best to suppress it, just as he had done with a vast quantity of nameless faces who had long since faded into the background. But with Roger, the danger of his twisted longing had been worse. There had been a lot more risk involved in being drawn to Roger in comparison to the various alluring strangers. Because in a way, Roger was the sun in which the elements of his life revolved around. Everything good he had going on in his life involved Roger, in some way, shape, or form.
He had done his level best to keep his most impure thoughts locked away in a deep corner of his mind, so not to obliterate all that was good in his life. But no matter how hard he had tried, occasionally they ended up slipping to the forefront. It was impossible for them not to with Roger being… well Roger.
One occasion in particular stood out in his mind, the time where he had come the closest to acting on one of his whims. Perhaps it had been because he felt so completely understood by Roger, even without saying a word… or maybe it had simply been the casual intimacy that always surrounded them whenever they were alone. But whatever the reason… It seemed like the end of the world in the moment.
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Freddie had been exhausted, in every sense. Tired not only physically, from having been on the road for weeks, but mentally as well. Because every time he came off stage, he was putting on a second performance of the night. This time for the crowd of groupies who practically demanded the bands attention. It’s not that a part of him didn’t love it, because he did. It was a sign after all. A sign that they were on their way to becoming a famous rock band… and rock stars were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. And while he did love it to a certain degree, these exchanges were often expected to lead to a more intimate affair at the end of the night… and that was exhausting.
Roger always seemed to relish in the hoards of female attention. It excited him, brought the best side of him to life, filled him with a sort of contagious energy… didn’t drain him of it, such as it in Freddie’s case.
Usually, Freddie would be able to put forth just enough of himself to not garner any raised eyebrows in his direction. He was a bloody good performer after all… but he had lost a majority of his willpower tonight as he watched Roger’s fingers sprawl across a gorgeous woman’s bare shoulder. Bitterness filled him because he couldn’t be like Roger… but also because he couldn’t be that woman in that moment.
Roger glanced up and caught his eye, an expression reminiscent of cockiness on his face. Freddie quickly dropped his head to look at the floor, hopefully in a nonchalant way. He gave himself a moment to wipe any evidence of envy and dejection off of his face before he looked up once again. And when he did, Roger was still looking in his direction, except now, his expression had subtly shifted. It was subtle enough that hardly anyone in the world would be able to pick up on it most likely. Freddie and Roger had been partners in crime for years now.. which means they had practically gotten their masters degrees in reading each other’s cues. That meant his own attempts of hiding the onslaught of negative emotions had likely been futile.
Suddenly, Roger took a step forward, pivoting around to face the small group that had gathered around him. “Sorry to disappoint ladies, but I’ve just remembered we have an early day tomorrow, maybe another time, yeah?” Roger told them as he motioned for Freddie to follow him out the door.
Except they didn’t have an early morning, that was a lie. Roger just seemed to know, seemed to sense he needed him, needed to be away from all of this for the time being. But before Freddie could fully process that, Roger had led them back to the hotel, with no girls in tow. They each jumped in the shower. Freddie kept his turn under the water as short as possible in an attempt to not allow the burning questions swallow him up. ‘How much does Roger know? What must he think of him?’
They sat on a rickety old carpet, leaning against one of the bed frames. Freddie wondered if Roger noticed they were sitting so close their arms were touching, ever so slightly… if he was doing this to him on purpose. He could feel the drops of water, falling off the ends of Roger’s hair and onto his shoulder. They were watching “Some Like it Hot” on the telly. It was oddly familiar, in a distant, almost-there sort of way.
No longer than fifteen minutes after they had begun watching, Roger had gotten up to turn the volume down low enough so he could make up his own lines in place of the actors dialogue (which Freddie had only found hilarious because he wasn’t missing out on any major plot points, considering he had seen the film quite a few times).
Halfway through an eerily accurate impersonation of Marilyn Monroe, Freddie is suddenly filled with a certain fondness and now all he wanted was for Roger to be back at his side again. “Alright darling, that’s enough now. I’d like to actually watch the movie you know,” Freddie said, his laughter fading out. Liar.
Freddie watched as Roger crawled back over, ignoring the other man’s playful grumbling about how he was “jealous of his talents” and instead focusing on the cheeky smile on full display and his wonderfully expressive eyes. A warm sensation spread throughout Freddie’s stomach as he imagined Roger moving further towards him, putting one hand on the bed, and the other on Freddie’s cheek, leaning down to close the distance between them.
Most unfortunately, Roger instead settled back down at his side again. “Volume alright?” Roger asked. Freddie turned his head, but instead of answering, his eyes flickered down to Roger’s lips, before he could help it. Roger’s lips looked so inviting and his close proximity was making him a bit dizzy. The yearning in his stomach began to grow as he parted his lips… no , what on earth was he doing?
Freddie shot up, his face flushed. “Um- just a minute. I need to use the loo.” He doesn’t chance looking at Roger’s face, afraid of what he might find there.
Freddie walked over to the loo, mindful to keep a casual pace. The warm sensation that had been spreading in his stomach had turned cold with dread.
He shut the door and moved over to the sink ‘what on earth are you thinking,’ Freddie thought, as he leaned down to splash some cold water on his face. And then, another thought even more frightening yet slowly settled over him. The realisation that he had almost majorly fucked up sober. Well, sober for a midnight in the midst of a tour anyways. What if his inhibitions had been loosened by the sweet sensation and lack of mind a slight drunkenness allows. What if Roger had been just a few centimeters closer, if Freddie would have been able to feel his breath. Freddie screwed his eyes shut. He would have kissed him.
‘No,’ Freddie cut off his own thoughts. ‘No,’ he could never have that, he could never come close to letting that happen again. He would never forgive himself if he had given in and Roger pulled back, his face contemptuous and disgusted. If Roger never felt comfortable being around him anymore… if he ruined the band.
Freddie took a deep breath, checking his face in the mirror to confirm it was neutral as he walked back into the room.
Roger turned his head at the footsteps and Freddie braved looking him in the eyes. Something about the way he was looking at him was unfamiliar to Freddie. It wasn’t something he felt he would be able to handle right now.
“So,” Freddie started, keeping his voice casual. “I’d say based on sheer noise level alone we outplayed Mott the Hoople tonight. Don’t you think?”
-
Freddie shook his head at the memory, thankful he had nothing to worry about anymore. If someone had walked into that hotel room that day and told him he would soon be where he is right now (with Roger, naked beside him, wholeheartedly returning his feelings) he would have thought it was some sort of cruel joke.
Last night was better than he could have ever imagined. Freddie couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face as contemplated this. For as long as he had known Roger, Freddie had observed how he took care of those closest to him. Freddie had experienced this privilege a multitude of times. Whether it be Roger covering for him when his voice got tired on stage, or making sure he was safe and sound after too much to drink, or even turning up with a shiny new vase the day after his cat had destroyed one of his favorite ones.
And as a lover, Roger had been no different in the amount of care and attention he had put forth into taking care of his emotional and physical needs.
It was as if Roger had taken all of the deepest desires he had written in his mind and simply put them onto paper. He had been so sure of himself, with a certain confidence Freddie hadn’t possessed that night on tour.
Roger had closed the distance between them, lips and legs and everything in between. Had pushed him down onto the mattress, his body weighing him down in the most delightful way. And in return, he had wrapped his legs around Roger’s waist and had dug his nails into his back to keep him as close as physically possible in the midst of pleasure. Of course Freddie had reciprocated, happy to match his intensity, thrilled to finally show Roger his entire self. He no longer needed to hide how he truly felt in that moment and it had been liberating.
Freddie sighed and scooted closer to where Roger was sleeping and tucked himself into the little space between the other man’s arm and his torso.
Roger stirred a bit, and the irrational part of Freddie was worried he would push him off and leave him here alone. But instead, Roger just felt around for Freddie’s hand and when he found it, he pulled it to rest on his chest.
A content smile appeared on Freddie’s face as Roger’s thumb stroked the back of his hand. Yes, this was unequivocally right.