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The first time Freddie brought it up, Brian was sure he was kidding.
"Brian May.”
"Freddie Mercury,” Brian smiled in reply, his lap suddenly full of post-show, sweaty lead singer.
Freddie looked back at him, his gaze flickering with mischief. "You should make out with me."
Brian just laughed, and stood up, leaving Freddie to scramble for his balance.
"What? Darling, I'm serious," Freddie said as Brian wandered away.
When he tried again the very next day, Brian humored him with more conversation. Freddie made it more difficult for Brian to run away by sitting on his lap again, but facing him this time, thighs pressed snug together in tight denim, effectively pinning him to his chair.
"Why?" Brian asked, laughter in his voice.
"Because it would be fun," Freddie insisted, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Freddie, I'm not gay."
Freddie stared at him, perplexed, like Brian just spoke in Japanese or something. "I'm not saying you're gay, I'm saying you should make out with me."
Brian wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Why don't you go make out with Roger?”
Freddie sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "Roger is going through this narcissistic, masturbatory phase."
Brian shifted uncomfortably. They were all going through a masturbatory phase. It was called living on a tour bus.
"And, honestly, darling,” Freddie continued, looking at Brian again, "he'd probably let me watch, but I don't really fancy being quite that frustrated."
That was just a little more than Brian needed to know, surely. "Um, what about Deaky?”
“Deaky is fulfilling other roles in my life," Freddie said astutely.
Brian's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "Are you reading that Sexual Psychology book again?"
"So?" Freddie challenged. "I have the right to feed my mind."
"That's true, you do."
"So will you?" Freddie leaned a bit closer, pressing his forefinger to the chest revealed by Brian’s mostly unbuttoned shirt. "Make out with me?"
"How about a hug?" Brian offered. "I'll give you a hug."
Freddie's slender arms were wrapped tight around Brian's neck before he even finished speaking. Brian had to grin as he embraced Freddie, squeezing his body gently, and Freddie hummed softly into Brian's ear.
"You give good hugs, Brimi.”
"And you're a total flatterer. Now move."
Brian's respite from Freddie's advances lasted all of three days. Which was just long enough for Brian to begin to relax again, and perhaps to forget the unexpected comfort that came from Freddie's presence on his lap, too.
He wandered up to the lounge area of the bus, just as they hit full speed on the highway, only to find Freddie sitting at the kitchenette table. In his hands he held a huge white styrofoam cup, his lips firmly puckered around the top of the pale pink straw. Freddie glanced up, suppressing a grin when he caught Brian staring at him.
"Is that..." Brian began, sinking into the seat across from Freddie. “Fred, is that a milkshake?"
Freddie paused, breaking the suction, and taking a much-needed breath. He nodded as the contents of the straw receded slowly.
"That's real too... not some fast food bullshit," Brian mused. "Where'd you get it?"
Freddie gazed at Brian, his bottom lip brushing the top of the straw. "Stage crew got it for me."
Brian leaned closer as Freddie twirled the straw, pinching it delicately in his fingertips, closing his lips around the end again as he looked up.
"Strawberry?" Brian asked curiously.
Freddie swallowed. "Strawberry-banana."
"It looks really good," Brian muttered, and he knew he was being pathetic. "Is it good?"
Freddie pulled the length of the straw from the cup, dripping thick and pale pink, and gave Brian a half-smile as he brought it toward his mouth. "Yep," Freddie replied, running the straw between his lips, flicking his tongue around it, pink foam pooling in the corner of his grin.
"Can I have some?" Brian asked finally.
Freddie dropped the straw back into the cup, giving it another stir. "Sure," he answered, and took another sip. "You can have the rest of it, darling.”
Brian reached for the cup, but Freddie kept a firm grip on it, his eyes meeting Brian's.
"If you make out with me," Freddie added.
Brian hadn't thought about it much before, but he was pretty sure his affections were worth more than a half-finished strawberry-banana milkshake. Even if said milkshake was once owned by the interminable Freddie Mercury.
"You're such a git,” Brian laughed, shaking his head and standing up.
Brian fell asleep sitting up, his head tilted against the window, the dark expanse of highway flying by like a filmstrip. He stirred as Freddie brushed against him, crawling into his lap again.
Brian blinked at him, first with one eye and then both as Freddie settled in; their breathing and the low hum of the bus engine the only sounds in the darkness.
"What?" Brian asked, his voice soft and sleep-scratchy.
Freddie grinned at him slightly. "You don't even have to take your clothes off at all."
"Oh my god," Brian muttered, realization washing over him. "That's worse than the lines Roger uses, Fred, and that's saying something."
"One kiss, then."
"You don't give up, do you?" Brian asked incredulously, pushing at Freddie's chest. It was no use; he wasn't going anywhere this time.
"Come on, Brian. It's only one kiss." Freddie deflected Brian's arm, fingers curling around his wrist.
"I hate you," Brian said, but couldn't keep the grin off his face.
"I gathered that," Freddie grinned in return. "Come on," he repeated. "Just kiss me."
"I don't kiss..." Brian faltered, his gaze lingering on Freddie's mouth, "people I work with."
“Bollocks,” Freddie objected, his tongue darting out quickly, leaving his lips slick. "I'm so on to you, darling.”
Brian averted his gaze to the window, studying Freddie's reflection, faint in the low light against the endless, whirring dark outside.
"Just do it, and I'll never ask you again," Freddie said.
"One kiss, and you'll shut the fuck up about it finally?" Brian asked, meeting Freddie's eyes.
"Yes.”
"Forever?"
"And I'll buy you a milkshake. That's how nice I am." Freddie shifted slightly, the muscles of his thighs flexing.
"All right, deal," Brian conceded.
He leaned a bit closer, and Freddie's thumb grazed the inside of Brian's wrist. Brian laughed slightly, nervous, and cleared his throat, and waited. Freddie tilted his head a fraction to the right, and gradually eliminated the distance between them, stopping just before their lips met, close enough that Brian could feel the soft feather of Freddie's breath as it fanned across his face. Brian froze in anticipation, lingering there, his eyes locked with Freddie's.
Freddie's lips turned up at the corners, ever so slightly, and his eyes brightened. "Come on, dear,” he murmured, barely a whisper. "I'm not gonna do it for you."
Brian blinked and pushed his lips into Freddie's lightning quick, immediately retreating.
"There."
Freddie's eyes flew open. "Oh my god, that so doesn't count."
"You said one kiss, that was your kiss," Brian argued.
"You can't be serious. You didn't even try."
"What do you want from me?" Brian laughed. "Seriously."
"I want you to kiss me," Freddie said, all traces of banter disappearing from his tone. "And if one kiss is all I'm gonna get, you could at least make an effort."
Brian felt bad, like he'd misbehaved in school or something, the way Freddie was looking at him. "All right, bloody hell,” he said, and sighed, trying to unravel the knot in his stomach. This was beyond ridiculous.
Freddie gazed at him intently, and Brian stared back, and leaned in again, taking a breath. Freddie tilted his head toward Brian and their noses brushed, accidentally at first, the tickle of contact lulling Brian's eyes closed as his lips found Freddie's. In the soft, gentle push that followed, Brian's pulse skipped, an event Brian attributed entirely to the late hour, his lack of sleep, and how long it had been since he'd kissed anyone at all. His mouth parted slightly in reclaimed memory, his body proceeding in spite of the rational part of his mind that so kindly informed him that hey, he could probably stop now.
But that inner voice stood no chance of being heard once Freddie's mouth parted in response, warm, wet pressure that hovered on some unspoken precipice. The tip of Freddie's tongue swiped hesitantly at Brian's lower lip, like an invitation, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Brian to follow Freddie's tongue with his own, to explore carefully, see what Freddie responded best too.
It should have been weird, but it wasn't, and it shouldn't have made any sense at all, but then it did, the seal of their lips and easy slide of their tongues together. Brian grew a little braver, or maybe just gave in, did what he wanted with Freddie's lower lip, nipping at it with his teeth. Freddie groaned gently, like he was relieved, his hands moving to Brian's face as they kept kissing. Brian brought his own hands to rest tentatively at Freddie's hips, barely brushing the denim there, and then clenching as Freddie began to suck on his tongue. Freddie's hips rocked against Brian's thighs, stuttered friction, and Brian reeled in the warmth that followed, the way it traveled through him, landing with a dull ache in his abdomen.
Freddie's hands dropped and he pulled away, leaning back as Brian stretched forward in confusion, his eyes flying open.
Freddie touched his lips quick to the tip of Brian's nose, leaving a warm, wet dot.
"Thank you," Freddie breathed, and then he was gone.
As it turned out, Freddie Mercury was really good at keeping his promises. Brian resented this fact on a daily basis, when all he could think about was that kiss.
He did get a milkshake though, which he'd forgotten about in the negotiations, and Freddie handed it over to him with a knowing grin. Brian smiled and stared at Freddie's mouth and remembered how he'd sat there in the darkness after Freddie had left, trying to find traces of Freddie's taste that remained on his lips. In that context, the strawberry-banana milkshake was of little consolation.
Brian's lap stayed empty, no matter how much he sat and stared at Freddie. Even pretending to sleep with his head against the window again got him nothing, save for a slightly sore neck.
"What?" Freddie asked him finally, forming the question around the end of his finger, which was shoved unceremoniously in his mouth. It had been eight days.
"Huh?" Brian managed to mutter, surfacing from his reverie. The one he plunged into moments before, watching as Freddie's tongue met the torn skin of his fingertip, swiping away the bright red droplet there.
Freddie's finger slipped from his lips, slick and shiny. "You're staring at me," he said, studying his injury with a worried expression.
"Oh." Brian felt his cheeks growing warmer.
"Like you want to tell me a secret," Freddie added, glancing up, closing his lips around his fingertip again.
"No," Brian said softly, his mouth going dry.
Freddie just grinned at him, still with the end of his finger in his mouth.
The eye-level microwave chirped cheerfully and then whirred to life as Brian pushed the appropriate buttons. He leaned his forehead into the door and closed his eyes, hands resting on the counter, and waited. He concentrated on the hum of the microwave, and not the two scheduled hotel stays coming up in the next week, or the way he knew from experience that Freddie liked to lounge around in only a bath towel.
"Radiation, much?"
Brian turned his head, his eyes opening slowly. Freddie's face was right there, his expression amused. He shifted even closer.
"Seriously. You might as well crawl into the microwave."
Brian wished for a brief second that he could, but banished the thought with a small grin.
“Brian,” Freddie grinned back, like Brian's name was his favorite word.
"What?" Brian asked, his body thrumming with anticipation.
Freddie's fingers brushed against Brian's on the countertop. "You know what," Freddie replied, as he looped a finger through Brian’s belt loop. Brian couldn’t have resisted that smile, even if he had been stupid enough to want to.
Roger was about twenty seconds away from completing a complex mission in his video game, one he'd been working on for a good couple of hours, when the bus' back bedroom door swung open and Freddie entered.
"Hi, leave please," Freddie announced over the squeal of in-game tires.
“Mate, I'm – "
Roger gasped in shock as Freddie hit the power button on the console.
“Fred!” Roger shouted, tossing his controller down violently. "What the fuck!"
"Please?" Freddie reiterated calmly. "Brian and I have to talk."
Roger narrowed his eyes at Freddie’s tone and glanced back and forth between them, incredulous. Brian smiled at him sheepishly.
"You owe me big, both of you," he muttered finally, pushing himself up off the floor, and brushing past Brian on his way out.
Freddie pushed the door shut and turned the latch to lock it.
"So big!" Roger shouted from the other side.