Work Text:
AU. 1970s
Roger was fuming.
Arms crossed, and feet tapping against the ground incessantly, he watched with envious eyes as some unknown derelict dominated the pinball machine. The machine lit up in a plethora of places, and the entire arcade continued to cheer vociferously, abandoning their own competitions.
Suddenly, the coins stationed within Roger’s pockets felt heavier, and he had half a mind to return home and complain to his mom about how pointless it was for her to send him off to pursue his pinball legacy. Even his best friend, Keith, knew well that it was his destiny, and now watching this practical nobody abolish his personal streak, he felt a wave of insecurity riveting through him.
Roger watched the score flicker repeatedly, a spur of nausea passing through his head as the numbers switched with greater value each time. The kid worked the flippers with wicked abandon, and Roger acquired a bit of whiplash just watching them move. Left, right, left, right.
“He’s dethroning you,” Keith said from beside Roger, and when the latter turned to face him, he felt a rush of bitterness broiling in his veins. Keith gawked at the unknown boy, his lips parted with dumbstruck awe as his eyes enlivened with each flash. “He’s a pinball wizard!”
“He’s a nobody,” Roger groused, brows furrowing as his lips curved into a pout. He was wasting his time here, much to the fact that he couldn’t play when the kid overruled the only working machine. His parents were home expecting him to return and gush about his best score, dinner waiting for him on the counter, and an extra meal for Keith because Mrs.Daltrey was well aware that her son’s friend could eat like a starved lion. However, Roger didn’t fancy the idea of Keith coming home with him today.
“But look at him! He’s bloody fantastic!” Keith exclaimed, slapping Roger’s back excitedly.
The blond chewed his bottom lip and shook his head. “If you like him so much, why don’t you go chat ‘em up?”
Keith finally dared to meet Roger’s astringent glare, and then the cusp of a smirk played on his lips as though he took the latter’s words as a challenge.
“Are you jealous, Blondie?” He raised a brow, and Roger knew that if he were to admit to that at all, he’d never see the end of it. Keith was very much like a brother to him, having forced himself into the Daltrey family by sticking to Roger’s arse like a leach. The two knew each other well— too well— and Roger was beginning to believe that Keith had already anticipated the truth.
As if seeing that to be a game, Keith whisked on his heel and approached the new ‘Pinball Wizard’, hovering over the machine and mustering words to him that Roger couldn’t hear from his distance. He huffed as a few other people joined the cohort, blocking his view as he was too short to see past them.
When Roger had enough of bathing in his self-pity, he stepped outside and inserted one of his coins into the telephone. It took a terse moment before the ringing seized, and he quickly informed his mother of who was calling.
“Having fun, Roger?” Her voice was sweet, almost deafeningly so, and Roger only rolled his eyes as he looked around the deserted street.
“I’m not,” he hissed, mindlessly twirling the telephone wire in his hand.
He could imagine the frown taking over his mother’s face as she processed the words. It only took a few beats of silence before she inquired, “Did you lose Keith?”
“Somethin’ of the sort,” he mumbled, and Mrs.Daltrey ‘awhed’ sympathetically. “I think I should be heading home soon.”
“Did you beat your highest score?” She questioned, hope prominent in her tone, which only succeeded in sickening Roger to his stomach.
He glanced at his side, noticing a lanky stranger approaching him, perhaps for use of the phone. “Listen, Mum, I have to go.” And he didn’t wait for her response before slamming the handset against the dial pad. He turned back to the stranger, not even simpering in acknowledgement as his mother had politely taught him to. The man had broad shoulders, and a rather long angular face that looked quite obscure upon his gaunt body. “Phone is all yours,” Roger murmured before brushing past the other man.
Yet before he could flee from the scene, the stranger gently cantillated, “That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball.”
Roger grumbled despite himself, his heart swelling with a feeling of authentic thrill as he spun back around on his heel. He peered at the other man, who seemed to have disregarded the telephone only to gaze back at him with an amiable smile. “I watched you play the other day. It’s all about technique, isn’t it?”
Roger shifted his weight, his frustration dissipating into blatant sheepishness as the stranger took a few more steps closer to him, leaving only a couple feet between them as he overlooked the blond carefully. Roger concealed his chagrin beneath his unkempt curls of hair, and nodded slowly. “I don’t recall seeing you.”
“Well, you were warped up in the game. I was impressed!” The man not only sounded astonished, but he was visibly delighted by Roger’s presence before him, and it granted the latter a happy little spike of pride. “I’m Pete, a fan of your little talent.”
Roger release a breathy chuckle, because either the heat encompassing him was beginning to grow insufferable, or Pete had genuinely taken his breath away. “It’s only pinball, a silly little game,” he said, although the words felt like a betrayal to his own heart.
“But it’s more than that to you?” Pete’s voice was searching for more clarification rather than an answer, as though he knew Roger had grown a strong infatuation with the game. He saw through to Roger’s soul in such a way that made the blond feel special, as if his frivolous passion meant something to Pete too.
Because to Roger, it was not just pinball.
And he is the wizard of it— not that useless nobody attempting to steal his crown.
Roger frowned at his own egotistic thoughts, and emitted a soft grunt. When he glanced back up, Pete was gazing at him with expectancy laced behind his azure eyes.
“It shouldn’t mean so much to me. But even my parents are supporting it, and my friend Keith— hell, I don’t know why he’s befriended me. The game has just become addictive.”
Roger wasn’t quite sure why he established the story of his life ( just pinball) right at the midst of his meeting with Pete, and was prepared for that impending schism to be enforced between them.
However, surprise would be an understatement when describing how he felt when Pete grinned thoughtfully. “I think it’s cute. Cute as in— you’re passionate about a game.”
“Now you think I’m a little kid,” Roger grumbled, and Pete shook his head nonchalantly.
“I don’t think you’re a little kid. I think you’re an intelligent, skillful adolescent whose found something that brings him great joy.”
“What are you, a therapist?” In spite of his words, Roger gaped at Pete as though he held all the knowledge in the world— universe, even. Roger was well adjusted to his interest in the game being a tad ludicrous, and hearing Pete enlighten him on a different aspect of it, he found his confidence gradually heightening.
Pete let out a delicate laugh, one that resonated through Roger’s head like the incessant arcade music. Although, it was beautiful, lighthearted in a way that brought a smile to his own face.
“Well, I best be on my way, eh?” Pete disrupted the comfortable silence, and Roger found himself wishing they could stay within each other’s presence for a moment longer.
“Y’know,” Roger started, and instantly wondered whether the best thing for him to do was propose suggestions of seeing Pete again. Although, with the newfound friend prodding at him with those oceanic eyes, he was in any position but to refrain from spilling the words. “I could teach you pinball, sometime?”
Roger wanted desperately to drive his own head into curb, because if Pete didn’t think he was a child before, he certainly did now. He lowered his head, shame creeping up on his bones as he awaited the mocking laughter and ruthless insults.
But they never came.
Instead, a coarse finger gently danced along his jawline before tilting his head up slightly. Roger could feel the heat emanating from Pete’s gaunt body in their proximity, although he could only release a stunned ‘ Eh?’
“Maybe you should, Pinball Wizard,” Pete said, his voice suggestive in a way that made Roger’s lower stomach broil. Pete’s hand retreated, and he only nodded with an inexplicable courtesy before turning on his heel and waltzing back down the street.
A rush of giddy excitement danced in Roger’s body, and he found himself grinning boyishly as he turned back to the arcade.
For sure, he was the Pinball Wizard.