Chapter Text
Roger Meddows Taylor
When Tim Staffell asked Roger out, he thought it’d be a fun time. Smile was always a close-knit band and Tim was very sweet to Roger, always complimenting him and encouraging him to try new things. However, on the date, Tim was nearly the opposite. Roger got a dirty look with Tim’s eyes running up and down his body and then he had to get the doors himself.
Wondering why Tim was so different led to Roger nearly getting ordered for, and this made an angry red color run up his cheeks, who took deep breaths as not to just leave the date and go curl up with pizza and Freddie. “How have you been these days, Tim?” He asked nicely, eating the appetizer salad while glancing back up at the singer-bassist.
“I’ve been fantastic, how has your new band been treating you?” Roger suspected a hint of disgust at the mention of Queen, and he willed himself to keep his mouth shut and eat the nice meal Tim was paying for. “Queen is thriving, we’ve recorded an album and I think we’re starting to do quite well.” He stayed polite, letting the waitress, who Tim glanced at for far too long, take the salad plate and replace it with the nice vegetarian pasta he’d ordered.
Brian would like this place, he thought to himself. Before digging in, Tim ordered his third glass of wine and sipped at it while Roger nursed his first glass, taking more swigs of water than wine. He was determined to stay sober through this so-far-terrible date. They made more small talk throughout the evening, Roger growing even more bored as it progressed.
At the end of the meal, Tim grabbed the bill and grunted, glancing up to Roger, who prayed he wouldn’t ask him to pay or split the bill. Finally, Tim decided he would pay and put cash on the table, standing to walk out. Roger followed, thanking the hostess as they left and climbed into Tim’s pick up. Riding in silence, Roger looked at the stars as they neared his neighborhood.
He then noticed they’d stopped, not far from his house. “This isn’t my house, Tim.” Roger huffed, looking over, who just nodded and smirked, leaning over the console. As Tim tried to kiss him, Roger put a hand on his chest and shook his head, “You were a total asshat, Tim Staffell. Take me home.”
Withdrawing from the blonde, Tim pulled back onto the street and dropped Roger off, who scurried into the house with a scowl. Freddie greeted him, “It’s only eight! Was it that awful?” he asked, which earned him a nod, watching his friend flop onto the couch and groan loudly. “It’s like he’s a new person! And not in a good way, he was a prick! He didn’t get the doors, he nearly made me pay for dinner, he was definitely a little less than sober. God, I’m giving up on men.” announced Roger.
John laughed as he walked in, giving Roger a pat on the shoulder as he sat up. “Sure you are, Rog. Do you want a nap before we leave, love?” He grabbed a blanket and tossed it to Roger, who had wrestled his way out of most of his clothes, cuddled into Freddie who was braiding his hair carefully.
Brian sat next to John, hair damp as he grabbed a book from the coffee table and read quietly, looking up to see Roger fall asleep with dutch braids adorning his head. Freddie cooed and turned the television off, grabbing a magazine from the ground next to the couch. They all read and chatted quietly, save for Roger, who slept, until nearly ten when they all moved to get ready.
Freddie slipped out from Roger’s grasp, letting Brian try to wake him. “Darling, love, we do need to get ready for our show.” Roger grumbled, pulling Brian into him, making the older, taller man’s heart nearly break in two. “I know you’re tired from your date, but we need the money.” Brian chuckled, poking at his cheek. John went to warm the van, “Just bring him to the van when it’s warm, he’ll wake up before we set up.”
Freddie returned to the living room with a case and an extremely lavish outfit, ready for their small show. “Let’s go, kids! We don’t want to be late!”
Brian Harold May
Watching Roger Taylor play the drums must have been the great privilege, at least that’s what Brian thought as he glanced up during the drummer’s solo. He heard Freddie’s voice come back, and only then did he realize his fingers were still moving on their own, eyes still locked on the blonde. Snapping his eyes away, he moved to center stage for his own solo, glancing up at the crowd with a half-smile, eyes lidded as he concentrated on his playing.
Roger hit the last drum beat on their set and soon, a sweaty Queen was walking off stage, high on their performance. “Great job, Bri, you were banging out there.” Roger clapped his hand on Brian’s shoulder as he passed, making Brian jolt back into reality, the only coherent word he could think of, banging, slipping from his mouth before he could stop it.
“What?” laughed Roger, eyes twinkling with the post-concert glow they all had. “You were banging too. Sorry, still coming down from the high.” Roger only nodded in response, walking towards the dressing room without another word. Brian soon followed, only after he made sure his beloved guitar was safely packed in their van.
When he entered the room, the other three were about to take off their sweat-covered concert clothes. “Hey, Bri, we need to talk to you.” started John. “About what?” Brian choked out, breathing in deeply through his nose to try to calm down. He was failing to come up with a situation that was not something bad.
“Brian, please calm down, we just want to ask you about your song?” Freddie laughed quietly, rubbing Brian’s shoulder. “I just want to know what it’s called, darling, so I can make plans for the recording studio and we can label the tapes.” Brian let out a heavy sigh of relief, leaning into Freddie’s godly massage hands.
“I’ve decided it’s going to be called, Las Palabras de Amor.” with a smile, Brian tugged his shirt over his mop of hair, damp with sweat. “Lovely, Brian, thank you.” Roger gave Brian a wink as he took off his own clothing, making Brian’s heart jump in his chest. It definitely was a huge privilege to make music with this blonde god, but it was an even bigger one to be his friend.