Chapter Text
As soon as Freddie heard the door lock, he leaped over to the couch and flipped Coronation Street on the TV. upon hearing Brian start the shower he snuck into their room and found his bag of salt and vinegar crisps he had hidden under his from the rest of the band.
he kicked his feet up on the coffee table and watched this week's drama. at some point, you have to think they're going to run out of plotlines right?
Wrong.
It wasn't that he was ashamed of liking soap operas, except he was so ashamed of liking soap operas.
It started with Mary, well not Mary herself but her grandmother. Freddie had heard from Mary's mother that she had some old clothes she wouldn't mind parting with. So Freddie went over for an afternoon to sort through boxes with her.
Now if you've ever been in the house of a widow over the age of fifty, you will almost definitely hear the recognizable brass intro
After Freddie finished the bag, he went to throw it in the bin, but he heard a loud groan from the bathroom.
"Brian I swear if you're wanking in the shower I'm going to fucking tear my hair out," he banged on the door.
"Jesus Fred," Brian yelled "I'm not jerking off in the fucking shower, that's Roger's job" he half laughed. Brian opened the bathroom door, and Freddie saw him, a towel on his hips, with multiple hair brushes tangled in his hair, and tears in the corners of his eyes.
Freddie's expression softened and he grabbed a bottle of conditioner before ordering him to "put some fucking pants on, dear." and sat in front of the on the couch with a bottle of conditioner and a hairbrush.
Brian sulked into the main room in flannel pants and a grey hoodie, his hair still a matted mess.
"Dear, that hood is going to be awful difficult to work around" frowned Freddie, waving the paddle brush as he spoke.
Brian pulled the jumper over his shoulders awkwardly, being careful to avoid eye contact,
Freddie poured conditioner into the palm of his hand before working it into the mats, being careful not to pull any harder than necessary, "How on earth does your hair get this tangled dear?"
"Well earlier we went to the pool, right? The chlorine will make your hair dry, that's why Roger's hair looks green-ish sometimes, and then after. I didn't brush my hair, and last week I lost my good hairbrush, which I guess explains the multitude of half-broken combs up there." He winced as Freddie pulled through a knot "so yeah, I've had a rough go"
"poor dear," Freddie half-whispered, mother-hen instincts kicking in.
Freddie had to admit, his mind was wandering (not like that you creeps) images of a small cottage, sleeping in, waking up to a mop of curls next to him, and the smell of rain wafting through an open window. "No, bad" he slapped himself internally "Brian is straight," he thought
"question mark?" the stupid, touch-starved part of his brain supplied
"Fuck off," he thought
"his hair is soft" it replied
after about half an hour, Brian's hair was tangle-free but drenched in conditioner.
"alright Bri," said Freddie, patting Brian on the shoulder "just hop back in the shower and rinse that out, love"
"I could come in and help," that stupid part of his brain thought, Freddie pinched his arm behind his back.
"and after I could put it in a braid for you!" he said cheerfully "so it doesn't get tangled while you sleep, of course"
Brian nodded and retreated back to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned the showerhead back on before running his fingers through his now very smooth hair, he looked back on the past 30 minutes or so, had Freddie always been that affectionate? Not that he was complaining. Being in a flat with three other men makes your own repressed sexuality hard to ignore.
He wondered how John and Roger were faring, with the date and the whole Elton John wedding thing was going. Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to care and that it was their fault if shit goes sideways.
Turning off the water and drying his hair, he noted that Freddie had put Sergent Pepper on the record player and the title track was playing.
By the time his hair was no longer dripping, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds was playing, and Freddie was standing in the kitchen and smoking out the window over the sink.
Brian was still, as the kids say, Whipped.
Just, the way the streetlight fell over his face, and his hair looking almost amber, "God" Brian thought "He looks fucking angelic"
the curve of his cheekbone, the straight of his nose, the honey brown of his eyes.
all very distracting
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Brian headed for the shower, Freddie immediately started towards the window. Roger and him had spent many a night looking at the moon and smoking an herb that was defiantly tobacco
Fine it was weed.
but every time freddie looked out that window he understood why brian was so enamoured with the stars.
Right, Brian.
he turned to walk to Roger's room to borrow a hair tie but instead, his brown eyes met green and goddamn.
952 words!!
I'm so so so so so sorry i let this fic die
have you drank any water? go drink some
have you eaten? go get fruit or something
taken your meds? gotten any exercise?
are you binding or tucking? check how long it been and take a break if it's been more than five or six hours
if you're looking for a sign to stay alive tonight, this is it.
I love you all and have a good day or night,
-ZIGGY