Chapter Text
The soft sound of students passing in the halls, the pattering of rain on the window, Brian’s soft voice, it all overcame Roger. This was the perfect place to study, and he was astounded that Brian had never brought the cozy, almost closet like room to his attention before. He was nearly ready to fall asleep, hand wavering as he wrote notes. The blonde glanced up at his friend briefly, just barely taking in how interested Brian sounded.
“Maybe you should take on Biology.” Roger said when Brian stopped reading to drink some water. He answered when he put the cup down again.
“Do you think so? No, I’d never. Not my thing, really.” Brian flipped to the table of contents in his book.
“No? You seem interested enough. More than I bloody well am, I’ll give you that.” Brian chuckled softly, tapping his pen against the table.
“Yes, well… I’m not quite as interested in the book as I am with you…” Brian trailed off, and Roger looked up at him, only to catch him with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Roger starred as Brian let it go, now ever so slightly red and plumped with wet saliva covering it. Roger couldn’t help himself.
“You’re trying to kill me, that’s it, right? You basically just had sex with my eyes ‘nd we haven’t even been studying together for a week.” This made Brian bark out a loud, cute laugh that made Roger’s own lips start to curl upwards.
“You really are something, Taylor. I suppose I… could do much more…” Brian started unbuttoning his shirt, and Roger’s face went red.
A nd then he woke up.
His head gave obnoxiously painful throbs, the thu-thud thu-thud thu-thud loud in his eardrums. He whined softly, hand coming up to touch his fragile skull. Roger took a moment, and slowly sat up to gather his surroundings. He didn’t recognize the living room, finding himself on a couch. Then, he remembered the party. The long, terribly boring frat party he’d gone to the night before.
With the smallest of smirks, he wondered what bird he happened to pick up that night… that also seemed to be in the bathroom, if the closed door and running water was any indication. Roger stood, looking around and gathering anything he recognized to be his. As he was pulling on the clothes, the female he had sex with the night before emerged from the bathroom.
Except she was a he. And he looked nearly just as hungover, long black locks knotted and thrown up in every which way. His tan skin was barely covered by an unbuttoned hawaiian shirt and some grey shorts. Roger’s mouth dried up.
“Ah, good morning…” Roger finally spoke, finishing getting into his clothes. The bloke came over to him, holding out his hand.
“Freddie. Goodmorning. You’re Roger Taylor, hm?” It was a sad attempt to sound professional, voice cracking and seeming incapable of looking Roger in the eye.
“Yeah… how did you-”
“You’re the drummer.”
Roger internally groaned, really wishing to not be having this conversation at.. Roger glanced at the clock, 7:32 in the morning.
“I am a drummer. What’sit to you?” Roger tried to sound as forgiving and polite as he could. Freddie didn’t catch the slight snarkiness.
Freddie sauntered closer, hand dropping now that Roger hadn’t taken it. He wrapped Roger in a tight, relentless hug, and whispered in his ear.
“Call me, or find me at Kensington. I’d be thrilled,” Freddie’s tongue rolled the word beautifully, and it made Roger shiver. “to talk music with you, Darling. Sometime tonight, think it rude to keep a lady waiting.” The words were nearly purred, and he slipped a small piece of paper into Roger’s hand before falling aside and strutting off.
Roger didn’t know what to make of the interaction, thinking if he knew any better, he might’ve just been going mad.
Not that it was a big deal, he wouldn’t be calling Freddie anyway, because he was perfectly and undoubtedly straight. Just a mix up, things happen. That wouldn’t change his sexuality overnight- at all.
At all.