Work Text:
“Owww”
Looking to the ceiling in mock exasperation, Brian sighed as Roger’s whinging permeated through the thin flat walls. Kicking the freezer door closed behind him, he fiddled with the ice-pack in his hands, the cold numbing his fingers almost immediately.
“Bri-“ he moaned again.
“Coming!” he huffed, swiping up his mug of tea with his unfrozen hand. His numb hands would be a bitch to try and play with, he thought absentmindedly as he entered the flat’s living room, a small, self-pitying lump splayed out on the sofa. Roger was bundled up with a blanket, pouting.
“Really.” Brian said, flatly.
“Really. It hurts!”
He placed the tea to one side, nudging at Roger’s legs until he shuffled to let Brian sit alongside him. Roger folded his arms petulantly, looking comical with the flourishing purple bruise around his eye.
“It’s your own fault, you didn’t have to punch that guy.” Brian leant forward, brushing his fingertips against the line of Roger’s eyebrow.
“But he was being a dick! You heard the things he said about us.” Roger flinched a little as Brian’s touch traced around his swollen lip, hot and pink from the bruise. “Besides, I won didn’t I?” He grinned up at Brian charmingly.
“I suppose so, but was it worth it?” Brian teased. Roger opened his mouth to answer, but his reply turned into a whine as Brian gently pressed the ice against his jaw. Looking up at him with big blue eyes, Roger sighed melodramatically.
“Totally” was the muffled reply, and Brian had half the mind to push the icepack against his face harder.
Rogers hands intertwined with his for a moment as he took the ice from him, leaning back on the cushions to rest it between his jaw and his shoulder as comfortably as he could. Despite the bruises, Roger looked as playful as the day they first went on stage- his eyes alight and energetic. His gaze washed over Roger’s expression, closing his eyes as the ice soothed his pain a little. His blonde hair fanned out on the back of the cushions, resting on his neck softly, whilst the steady rise and fall of his chest made the strands shine a little in the light. He almost looked peaceful, a faint blush rising all the way up to his cheekbones, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in discomfort.
The skeins of vapour had slowly dissipated over his tea, but Brian blew gently before sipping, relaxing himself in the sudden quietness. Tugging at the blanket slightly, Roger seemed to almost melt into the warmth, his feet propped up on Brian’s knees. It was almost incredible to think how he, now so softly slumbering, had a few hours earlier spat insults as Brian clutched him to hold him back. Roger was right, he had to admit, the man and his friends were awful. Leant over the bar, nuzzling a lukewarm glass of something fruity and strong (Freddie’s choice of course), he had hardly noticed the commotion until John had yelled. By then Roger had already hit the guy at least twice, almost proud of the twinge of blood on his knuckles as he swung again. Later, when Brian was hauling the fuming Rog back to their apartment, John had hurriedly muttered how they had cornered Fred in the bathroom. Dedicated fans they said, John hissed, dedicated in how they hated people like Freddie. John had assured him it wasn’t his fault after, but he still looked crestfallen as he parted ways with Brian and Roger, something small and insecure hiding behind his eyes.
He hated to be annoyed at him, and in some ashamed way, he was quite proud of Roger. He was a protective of his friends totally and entirely, Brian couldn’t recall a day where Roger had ever shyed away from them out of embarrassment. How he could do that, put up that impenetrable bravado, Brian smiled as he placed the cup onto the table as quietly as he could. His breaths were slow and even, and without looking Brian could tell he was exhausted from the night.
He thought about extricating himself, but Roger stretched a little like a cat, flopping himself further into Brian’s side. At some point he would have to get a new ice-pack, take him to bed. Roger’s grip on it was beginning to slip, and as he reached forward to take it from him a dull knock at their door softly echoed throughout the room. He paused. Roger just sighed and tucked himself into the sofa more. He slipped the ice from between his fingers, gently lifting his legs up before sliding himself out of their cosy nook. He wiped off the drops of condensation on his shirt, creaking open the door at stupid a clock in the morning.
“Bri! We thought that-“ Freddie started but his expression quickly paled as Brian hushed him harshly, stepping back and pointing behind him.
“Oh, darling.” He smiled, a little of the old look shining in his eyes.
“I left my coat behind, and we just thought that...” Roger shuffled and sighed, making all three hold their breath and John whispered, “you might want company.”
“Always welcome”
Brian chuckled, closing the door behind them. Leaving the others to sort themselves, he chucked the half-melted ice pack back into the freezer, rummaging around for a couple minutes for another one. In silent celebration, he pulled it out between the fish fingers at the very back, his hands exceedingly cold. He was about to offer John or Fred tea, but his breath fell short as he turned the corner to find them. John had leant into the corner of the sofa, resting his head on the armrest as his long hair dangled over the edge. His legs rested in Freddie’s lap, who curled John’s knees around him so he could tangle his hand in John’s hair. His other arm was leant on the back board, stretching himself out even more like a content feline. He had pulled Roger’s blanket across his and John’s legs, just scarce enough so he wouldn’t miss it, and lay there watching John with glazed eyes as he rested. Brian had to wait a moment, he had to memorise this. The three of them, half-asleep but fully comfortable in each other’s company. His best friends.
Fred noticed his unbroken gaze, and patted the cushion next to him and Roger. Brian’s legs could scarcely move any faster.
“Wha- what?” Roger murmured, opening one eye as Brian lifted his legs again.
“Fred and John. Don’t worry rog, you can go back to sleep.”
He shuffled a little, positioning himself under Freddie’s arm. Roger sighed in acceptance, shrugging, and rearranged himself until his legs were pointing towards the armrest, and his head was tucked into under Brian’s chin.
“Wait a sec, I got you another one of these-“ he prodded Roger with the ice-pack, and he grumbled as he took it from him.
It was a couple of minutes later, when Brian was just drowsing when Roger spoke again:
“My mouths gone numb.”
The vibrations of Fred’s laughter tickled him, making him hold back a smile as Roger jabbed in the ribs with his elbow. John seemed to be giggling too, holding the back of his hand to his mouth.
“It’s not funny.”
“Maybe it’ll make you sing better darling.” Fred spoke, glancing at Brian with a mischievous expression.
“Don’t tease him.” John murmured, his eyes fluttering shut like moth’s wings.
It was funny how the night turned out. The muted streetlight lapping in waves of light across the darkened room, pausing over the slumbering faces of his friends. Fred had fallen under with his hand entwined with John’s, his lips parted as he slept. Brian tried to lay still, almost wishing to feel Roger’s heartbeat over his. A small tap on his chest made him jump a little, glancing down to where he was looking up at him with hazy eyes.
“In your head. Sleep now.” He mumbled, stroking his hand over Brian’s.
“Okay.” A whisper in the darkness.
He closed his eyes, the rise and fall of his chest in time with roger’s lulling him to sleep. What a night.