Chapter Text
It was all worth it. The months of hardship, happiness, those long ours of pain. That tiny little body, so pink, so alive. That small but impossibly loud voice. That incredibly beautiful baby lying in his arms made every ounce of their journey worth it. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked into his baby’s gorgeous eyes as they opened for the first time. This baby was the most exquisite thing in existence. Their family finally felt complete. It felt perfect.
Brian woke that morning to screaming, laughing and the smoke alarm going off. So, a typical morning in the flat he shared with three other grown men.
There was a pounding on his shared bedroom door, and before he could answer, an over-excited blond boy bounded in.
“Brian! Freddie burnt the pancakes and now the alarm is going off!” Roger shouted, climbing up on Brian’s bed and jumping up and down like a child who’s had one too many glasses of red cordial.
The curly haired man pulled a pillow over his head and groaned. “It’s too early Rog! Get Deaky or something.”
Roger giggled. “Freddie’s waking him up now.” He jumped off the bed and sat down by Brian’s feet. “Come on, Bri, wakey wakey!” It was hard to believe this child was actually a grown man.
The older man reluctantly moved his heavy body off the bed. “Can I ask why you decided to make pancakes when neither of you know how to cook?” He said, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. Roger stood there laughing, his blond waves unruly, his ocean blue eyes swallowing Brian whole. He was so perfect, so beautiful. Brian’s heart ached, he desperately wanted to lean down and kiss those perfectly soft lips and take his small body in his arms and cuddle him until the day he died. But all that was off limits, they were friends. Nothing more.
“You are such a child.”
John looked equally disgruntled as Brian did when they sat down at the kitchen bench. Roger and Freddie must have used the same unorthodox methods of waking a person up.
The pancake fiasco had been resolved, by John scraping away the blackened mess and leaving the burnt pan to soak.
“What’s on today then darlings?” Freddie asked, producing a pot of tea with a flourish.
John sighed. “Studio, idiot.”
“What are we recording today then? Your song or Roger’s horny car one?”
Roger stood up quickly, anger clearly bubbling up. “It’s not about having sex with a car!” He shouted, breathing heavily. “I put my heart and soul into that song!”
Freddie smiled, happy with the havoc he had already created that early in the morning. “Yes Rog, darling, we know.”
“That settles it then,” Brian began with a smile. “John’s best friend song.”
The recording session went without a hitch. They recorded all the vocals for ‘You’re my Best Friend’ and even started on one of Brian’s songs.
But Brian simply couldn’t focus. Roger just looked so perfect, when he was entranced in his drum solos, puckering his lips ever so slightly and closing his eyes. He had tried to shake off these thoughts many a time, ever since he started to fall for the drummer way, way back, but it had never worked. It was actually painful, to pine this hard over someone but never have the balls to tell them how you feel. Chances were that Roger even like him back! But Brian wouldn’t dare put their whole relationship at risk just because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
“Brian!” Freddie called, snapping his fingers in front of his face, smirking. “Bit distracted dear?”
He flushed a deep red, finally realizing exactly how long he had been staring at Roger for. “Talk later, yeah?” Brian whispered to Freddie, who nodded. Freddie was the only one who knew about Brian’s little crush on the drummer, the word ‘little’ being a severe understatement.
The walk from the studio back to the flat wasn’t a long one, but the cold British autumn air was biting into their bones. It was only September, days after summer had ended but already the season had shifted into that bitter coolness. Shivering, the four scuttled up the stairs and into the flat, Roger instantly running to turn up the heating. They all agreed that take out was in order, to reward themselves for such a productive day and because no one could be bothered to cook after that morning’s fiasco. Curled up in his respective corner seat on the sofa, Brian felt something warm press against him. It was Roger, trying to wedge himself tightly into the nook behind Brian’s knees, making his heart swell.
“What? It’s cold, and your legs are plenty long enough,” The blond drummer defended when he caught the other man staring. A snort escaped Brian’s nose, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t think I could ever eat again,” Freddie sighed, chucking his Chinese takeout box on the coffee table dramatically. “What next?”
Roger let out a long sigh. He had made Brian sit up so he could lay his head across the guitarist’s thighs, much to his delight. “Wine?”
The youngest boy giggled. “Of course that is obvious course of action, Roger,” John teased, ordering Freddie to fetch the good wine glasses. “To being productive, and to good Chinese food,” John toasted. A loud clinking reverberated through the room, followed by silence as everyone took a long, well deserved drink.
The empty wine bottle lay discarded in the corner, they had moved onto the vast collection of liquor Freddie had acquired. Brian could already tell that Roger was getting drunker by the second, and surprisingly, John wasn’t very far off.
Seizing this moment, Brian signalled to Freddie.
Once they were in the kitchen, Freddie crossed his arms. “You need to do something, Brian.”
The curly haired man frowned. “I can’t Fred. I can’t ruin everything.”
One dramatic sigh later; “You won’t! Trust me, I can tell when someone’s in love.”
“Roger isn’t even gay.”
“Stop making assumptions and grow a pair and tell him!” Freddie said, turning away and flouncing back to the lounge, leaving one very stunned Brian standing on the cold kitchen tiles.
By the time it had got to the small hours of that morning, the boys had drunk themselves out. Well, three of them had. Brian couldn’t stop repeating those words Freddie had said, as if by thinking them enough, he could undo the riddle. Assumptions, what assumptions? Could Roger possibly like the same sex? Freddie surely knew. Why was no one being straight with him and telling him the truth?
“One more, Johnny!” The boy in question whined, holding out his glass and flicking back his long blond hair.
“I think you’ve all had quiet enough,” Brian said, grabbing the bottle from Deaky and the glass from Roger.
“Who do you think you are? My mum?” Freddie slurred angrily as his glass was taken too.
“Do you want the biggest hangover of your life tomorrow?”
He shook his head.
“Then go to bed,” Mother Brian ordered, sending Freddie and John skulking away. Roger, on the other hand, had decided in his drunken state that the couch would be a perfectly adequate place to, in the few minutes Brian had taken to sort out the other two, fall asleep.
The tall man smiled to himself as he lifted Roger gently off the sofa and carried him to their shared bedroom. His heart swelled as he tucked the boy into bed, pushing a few strands of blond hair off his pale face. He turned to finish dealing with the mess in the lounge, but a soft, husky voice stopped him.
“Brian…” Roger breathed.
Quick as a flash, Brian was back stroking those golden tresses again. “What is it, Rog?”
“Stay with me…” He whispered, eyes still closed.
Brian beamed. “Of course, darling,” Freddie was rubbing off on him.
Forgetting all about the disastrous lounge, he made short work of slipping in next to Roger, pulling the covers sung around them. Laying on their sides, Roger’s back was flush to Brian’s chest, the blond boy fitted so perfectly between his hips. Gently, he placed one arm around Roger’s middle, carefully pulling him in a bit closer. They had shared a bed before, while on tour, when the sleeping arrangements were rough, but tonight was different, they were just that bit closer, as if finally closing the gap. It was heavenly.