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Roger Taylor wasn't much a man of romance, more of the man who enjoys alone time as soon as he's done with his shag of the night. So when he hears John talking aimlessly about how he hasn't eaten at a proper restaurant since they started recording their new album, he feels a sudden and unexpected tug at his heartstrings.
"I just haven't been able to find much energy after recording for hours and hours," John says to Freddie leaning against the sound mixer, "I'm just always so tired."
"Oh, come on love!" Freddie smiles at him, "You're the youngest of us all and here you are, your new bedtime at 6 o' clock! You're turning into a granny!" he laughs.
John laughs with him, but Roger can see that he's not truly laughing along.
Later that night, after dinner and everyone's gone to bed, Brian and Roger take their turn to do the dishes.
"I just feel right awful for Deaky," Roger says while scrubbing at a plate, "he just seems so worn out."
"Well," Brian says, waving a dish towel around, "we have been working on this goddamn album for weeks now, so I think it's starting to get the best of everyone really."
Roger almost drops a plate, but catches it at the last second to hand it over to Brian to dry it off. Brian takes it from him with caution as if he were about to break it, which he was actually, and places it on the rack next to the sink.
"Your turn to make breakfast tomorrow, right Rog?" Brian asks, turning to him to wait for the next dish to dry.
He doesn't respond immediately, just scrubs more at the cup he'd been holding for a minute too long now. Poor John. He doesn't even know why, but Roger feels bad for him the most out of all of them. He probably hasn't been away from home for this long before, and this bloody album that's seeming to take forever is really getting to him. Roger wishes he could just grab Deaky and drive him out to a town, anywhere, just to go somewhere to eat something that isn't poorly homemade food made by one of the boys. Maybe take him to a club, get him to dance, loosen him up a little. He needs something to relax and take a break from all this constant recording.
"Hello? Earth to Roger?" Brian waves the dish towel he's holding in his hand in front of the blond's face.
Roger snaps out of his train of thought, handing Brian the cup. He takes it and looks at Roger with a questioning look.
"You alright?" he asks with care.
"Yeah, sorry Bri, I was just thinking about John. He needs a break from all this, don't you think?"
Brian chuckles a little at that. "I think we all do," he dries the cup and puts in on the rack, "but yeah, he seems all dried out. But what do you suppose we do about it?" he asks. "Take him home? We can't exactly leave, Rog, and we're weeks behind schedule, we need him around."
"Agh, I know," Roger takes another plate to clean, and angrily scrubs all the stains away, "I just wish I could take him just for a night out, go to a restaraunt or something, just to shake him out of it." He rinses a few forks and knives and hands them carefully to Brian.
"That sounds nice Rog, but we can't exactly take a break to go out downtown." Brian dries the utensils while he speaks, occasionally brushing a stray strand of his curly hair out of the way of his line of view.
"Not even just for one night? I'm sure you can convince Fred to let me take Deaky out, just for a a few hours," Roger says. "It won't kill us."
Brian sighs with defeat, putting the last fork away before folding up the towel and setting it next to the sink. He crosses his arms and faces a pouting Roger. He looks at his kicked puppy expression and eventually cracks.
"God, fine." Brian says, shaking his head. "I'll convince Freddie to let you and John have your bloody date."
"Thank you Bri," Roger smiles. "Thank you, thank you, I owe you one now I swear." Roger buzzes with the promise of getting to leave the old barn.
-
Roger walks carefully down the steps into the basement, making sure to be quiet in case John is resting. He reaches the bottom to see him curled up with his back facing Roger, the sheet pulled gently just below his waist. He's breathing slowly, but not evenly enough to assume asleep, so Roger assumes it's okay to step inside.
The blond can't help but to stare a little, even if it's just at his back, Roger admires the way the brunet's long hair falls down over his neck and fans out on the pillow, making him look so soft and serene.
Before the drummer can soak up the beauty just for a little longer, John shifts and turns to face him.
"Hi Rog", he smiles softly, "did you need something?"
"Erm," Roger struggles, "Uh, hi Deaks, eh, yeah, I was wondering how you were feeling? You seem to be getting more tired lately, and I wanted to make sure you're okay and not coming down with anything."
He sits on the bed with a nod from John to let him know it's alright, and John sits up and crosses his legs.
"Oh, yes well I'm fine, not getting the flu or anything, just a little homesick is all", he mentions with a small smile that barely tugs at his lips.
"Ah, me too." Roger says back awkwardly.
A small silence stretches before Roger decides he should just say fuck it and ask Deaky right there off the bat.
"Would you like to go out then? We don't have to, of course, I just- It seemed like you weren't exactly feeling very energetic and I wanted to take you somewhere to eat or something, you know, maybe get something other than Brian or mine's poor excuse for cooking," he laughs.
John's face is scarlet and he's rendered speechless. He smiles a little at Roger's joke about the band's incapability to cook but is more fixated on the first question he had asked.
"...Like... a date..?" John questions quietly, almost hiding behind his hair. He holds his hands in his lap, twiddling the sheets a little and keeps his stare steady at Roger's face, ears burning and heartbeat thumping faster and faster.
See now this is the part where Roger isn't his greatest. Him and John haven't been exactly dating, but they've shared some heated looks which lead to backstage makeouts, which lead to confessions and the occasional hand-holding, which eventually lead up to now.
But this wasn't anything Roger was rightly prepared for. He hadn't been on a proper date since high school, and definitely has never been on a date with a bloke before.
"Er, yeah, unless you don't really want to I, uh. It doesn't have to be anything, it can just be dinner." Roger's getting a little red now too, and since when was he the one to get nervous around John? What the hell?
"No, no! I'd love that." John smiles his adorble gap-toothed smile, and beams, giggling nervously like a schoolboy. "A date. With you."
He cautiously tangles their fingers together.
"What about recording? I thought we were too busy to go downtown." John speaks softly, as if his whole voice would break something, possibly the warmness of Roger's sweet and rare nervousness lingering from the earlier questions.
"I managed to get Brian to do me a favor and beg Fred to give us a night off," Roger explains. "So the night will be just for us."
"Just us?"
"Just us."
They share a comfortable silence, John smiling dopely into Roger's deep blue eyes, and Roger gazes back, smile just as wide. Roger tightens his grip on John's fingers slightly and gets one last second of green-gray eye contact before letting go to get up.
"Okay, so tomorrow then? I promise I'll take you somewhere nice, maybe go dance at a club or something afterwards. I want to see you dance in someplace other than jigging in the studio," Roger winks.
John laughs and nods a little, shyly enough that he doesn't need words to explain his answer.
"Goodnight, Rog."
"Goodnight, Deaky."
Roger goes back upstairs with a splitting grin.
He cannot wait for tomorrow.
-
Roger tightens his shirt in anxiousness, making sure all the buttons are buttoned and he flattens as many wrinkles out of his only dress shirt he packed as smoothly as possible. It's just a plain deep red shirt with small embroidered swirled patterns on the outer sleeves in a darker red thread, nothing too fancy.
The blond then darts into Freddie's room to snag his dark eyeshadow palette to do up his eyes a little, just the slightest bit, enough to make the blue in his eyes stand out, but not too much to make him look like a raccoon.
He carefully applies the shade onto his lids, brushing the amberish-brown color lightly across his left eye, then switches to do the other. He finishes and closes the small brush inside its box and tosses it back into Freddie's room someplace on his dresser.
Roger stands back to admire himself in the small mirror hung on his tiny room's wall, tousling his hair just enough for it to look not bad but not perfect either. He knows he's jittery and nervous, picking and prodding at all these little things on himself when he knows John couldn't care less about things like if his shirt was ironed or not.
He almost dwindles too much on the thought of how his shirt really isn't ironed at all and is in fact, way too wrinkly, before he gets interrupted by a knocking on his door.
"It's John," a soft voice says.
"Come in love," Roger replies.
He opens the door and lets it swing open to reveal a very dolled-up John Deacon. He stands awkwardly at the door, wearing his dramatic platform boots but a simpler dark pants and silky white shirt. He's wearing some stage makeup just like Roger, his eyelids dark with small bits of glitter in the corners, and his lips colored with a very light gloss. Not too much, but just enough to make him look so
"Beautiful." Roger says, breathless.
"Huh?"
"You look utterly beautiful, Deaky."
"Oh! Well... thank you." John blushes and twrils around to joke at his little fashionable get-up, letting the loose shirt billow through the spin. "Erm, I thought it'd be a bit much actually. It's been a while so I don't really know what I'm doing." He laughs a little.
"And here I thought I was getting too dressed up!" Roger laughs. "Though, I must admit it's been a while for me, too. But it makes it all the better for the both of us to not know what we're doing together." he smiles and steps closer to John, placing his hands gently on his sides.
"So where are we going?" John asks, smiley and a little giddy under Roger's hands.
"I was thinking this small French place down in the outer part of the city actually, if that's alright with you." Roger smiles at John's bashfulness.
"Yeah, I mean, yes that sounds- that sounds good." John stumbles and stutters. He's very nervous.
"It's okay to be a little anxious John but it's not like it'll be the end of the world if this doesn't really go well," Roger chuckles.
"Ah, I know," John sighs, "I'm just worried I'll mess this whole thing up. We've never been on a date before Roger. A real date."
"Well, yes I know that love. It'll be just fine, I promise. You nor I could possibly mess any of this up." Roger smiles softly to reassure the brunet, taking his hands into his own to gently carress his knuckles. He manages to calm him down a little, despite being quite nervous himself.
-
When they enter the restaurant, Roger is especially pleased to see that it's nearly empty, with only two or three tables taken, and all of the booths free.
A waiter greets them with a polite "hello" and asks the pair where they would like to sit.
"Just any of the booths would be fine," Roger says.
"Right this way," the waiter brings them to the booth a bit farther from the rest of the tables, probably understanding that the two are a couple, and wouldn't want to gain any stares.
Roger thanks the waiter and lets John sit down first before following in suit and sitting across from him. The waiter then takes their drink orders and leaves for the kitchen.
In front of them, in the center of the table, is an unlit candle that the waiter had forgotten to light. Roger sees it and then takes out his lighter to quickly spark a flame.
"Romantic," John jokes, trying to ease the semi-awkward tension.
"Why, yes I know," Roger jokes back. He's trying. Really, really trying. He likes John, he really likes John, and he fears of failing. It's been years since he's done this properly, dates, dinners, dressing up. He's scared to lose this. To lose John.
John takes his hand, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"You alright?" he asks tenderly.
"Yes," Roger smiles sheepishly, "just thinking."
"'bout what?"
"..How nice your butt is."
John laughs and slaps Rogers hand away to clutch himself, giggling.
Dinner goes well, with of course the occasional mishap. John's hair nearly caught flame when he leaned over to help Roger get hair out of his face, and Roger shattering a glass because he was distracted by John's smile.
All in all, it seemed like a normal chaotic evening for the pair.
They head back to the barn, happy, full and sated. Roger plops down onto one of the couches in the recording room and John follows suit, landing almost completely on top of the blond with an oof.
"Hey," Roger suddenly sits up, "we should listen to some music." He smiles up at the younger man above him.
"Sure," John smiles back, getting up to turn and walk at the edge of the couch, looking through a box of records. "What do you fancy?" he asks.
"Anything." Roger replies. He's twirling the soft fabric of his shirt, the top button already undone to let his neck free so he could breathe a little more.
John carefully places a Beatles record on the player, Come Together beginning to play as Abbey Road spins under the needle. John bobs his head to the beat, twirling and jamming for a bit.
"Skip to 'Something'," Roger smiles dopily, "Although I could watch you dance for hours, I do kinda wanna dance with you."
John blushes and complies, "Alright," he smiles through cute gapped-teeth, lifting the needle and placing it roughly near the beginning of the second track, guessing where it'd begin. "-ttracts me like no other lover-" sounds out, the song cutting in.
Roger stands and takes John's hands.
Something in the way she woos me
Roger steps into place, swinging lightly along with the younger man before him, holding onto one of John's hands and lightly placing his own on John's side, just above his hip. He leans down to put his head atop Rogers, swaying and leaning back and forth.
I don't wanna leave her now,
You know I believe and how,
They move cautiously, almost hesitant as feet follow each other in steps and Roger gently takes his hand away from John's side. He spins him on his feet, watching his billowy shirt ruffle and fly like silk doves, John laughing with his movements as the song swells along with Roger's heart.
You're asking me will my love grow,
I don't know, I don't know
You stick around, now it may show
I don't know, I don't know
John spins back into Roger's arms, rocking back and forth with him to the calm and beautiful guitar solo. John carefully takes his hand away from Roger's back to tilt his chin up to have the blond's eyes look up at his own. Their breathing flows through eachother's space, anticipation and loving fear in the air. Roger's clean blue eyes become thin irises as his pupils swell with affection at the sight of John.
Something in the way she knows
And all I have to do is think of her
Something in the things she shows me
I don't wanna leave her now
You know I believe and how
The songs instrumentals rise once more, and John gently presses his lips to Rogers, kissing him passionately. Roger kisses back with caution, this being their first real kiss with actual emotion and love behind it, rather than a rushed post-show fling.
The guitar quiets down and leads the song out to transition into Maxwell's Silver Hammer.
Roger laughs lightly, breaking the kiss with the sudden change of beat, holding onto John's shoulders as they lightly swing again to the lighthearted tune. John smiles and breathes out a small laugh, then reluctantly leaves Roger's arms to turn down the volume of the record, allowing the song to continue.
John bashfully walks back to Roger, smiling hard and mind loopy with love. He tries to fall back into a paced slow dance, but Roger catches him before he can get too close to avoid his face. Roger gently cradles John's face, cupping his cheeks and staring into his eyes. He smiles softly and kisses John once again, letting them kiss longer now without a distraction.
"Deaky..." Roger mumbles against the younger's lips, "John."
They break apart slowly.
"Yes?" John mumbles back, still close to the blond's face.
I love you, he thinks to himself. I love you so much, Deaky darling.
"Thank you," he says instead, "thank you for this."
"What?" John laughs, "What do you mean? You're the one who took me out to dinner, you git." he laughs softly, carding his hands through Roger's hair, both still swaying gently to a faint song in the background.
"I know, I know, but," Roger sighs, "I don't know, I just. Thank you for saying 'yes' and taking my hand and dancing horribly with me," Roger rambles on and on, talking and babbling about how great and beautiful John is.
By the time Roger's done and after John is done laughing and adding on, the record conks out and the music stops.
"I love you," Roger says quietly into John's neck.
"Huh?" John asks, "I didn't hear you love."
Except he totally did, and he's just fucking with him.
"I love you," he says louder. "I-"
"I love you too." John replies fondly.
"And I know its only been a few months Deaky but- wait, you...?" Roger trails off, looking into deep green-grey eyes.
"Yeah," he smiles, "yeah, I do."
They hold onto eachother and sway, just for a little longer, even though there's no more music playing.