Chapter Text
Sheer Heart Attack was getting recorded with the band having a new brainstorm everyday, especially Freddie. Each morning the main singer showed up with a new song for the album, and it was Brian, Roger and John’s job to say if it fit with the album or not. However the young band, full of steam and eagerness, were way too excited from making a third album, so good lyrics were requested.
John, during the last couple of weeks, was a bit curious with the blond drummer. He was being a bit more reserved than usual, throwing less tantrums than usual, and he’s constantly writing in a small journal he’s carrying around. At first John thought it was for some song ideas, but Roger already showed the band his single contribution for the album.
“What are you writing, Taylor?” asked John one day, his fierce eyes glued at the man in question.
Roger looked at the brunet, a bit surprised that someone was giving him attention. Then, something odd happened: he blushed.
The drummer was popular with the birds (and with some blokes as well, to be honest), and he was the one who normally made them blush. However, John had to agree that Roger seemed pretty with red cheeks.
“Just thoughts. Daily stuff,” Roger said, in a low tone, his eyes going back to the paper.
“He always liked to write his shenanigans at the end of the day since I met him,” Brian commented playfully. “He said it’d be nice to register important things, when he gets famous.”
“And I stand by that,” Roger nodded firmly, making John giggle softly.
“I just keep wondering what he writes about us there,” John murmured, standing up, walking next to the couch Roger was sitting on.
John was very close to Roger's back, one step to the left and he could see what the blond was writing...
Before he could, Roger just closed his journal, looking at the bass player with a satisfied smile. “Nice try, mate.”
Roger and John knew each other for three years, and John could say it’s a challenge to be in a band with the drummer. He’s very different from him: easy-going, very cheerful (when he wants to) and charming. John couldn’t deny that sometimes he stopped what he’s doing just to admire the bandmate’s features.
“Darlings, can we focus on this album? We have a deadline!” Freddie sang, very excited.
“We could stay in the deadline if he came to the studio before ten, and not after ten,” whispered the drummer in John’s ear.
“You’re the worst,” John whispered back, pumping his shoulder on the blond’s.
Roger looked John up and down and refrained a smile, and walked away.
---
Later that day Freddie requested no breaks until they finished that track recording. The main singer was tiring, but he said if they stopped they’d waste the energy the song needed.
When the song was done, John begged for a glass of water and threw himself on the couch, lying down on it. He closed his eyes, seriously thinking of taking a nap there before heading home.
“Your water, Deaky.” This made John open his eyes, and he saw Roger with a glass of water, handing for him.
John sat up straight, to drink the water. It was at the perfect temperature, refreshing and cool, so he hummed while drinking it. He almost didn’t register that Roger sat next to him. When he was putting the empty glass on the table he felt something fluff touching his forehead.
He looked up and saw Roger cleansing his forehead with a small towel.
“Mate, what are you doing?” John asked, confused.
“Well, you’re sweating,” Roger said, smiling.
“So are you.”
“I was just trying to help you,” the blond looked away, clearly embarrassed.
Maybe John was a bit ungrateful. “Sorry, Rog. I’m just tired,” he clapped on Roger’s leg, squeezing it slightly. Roger looked at his action, and the bass player could see he’s frowning.
When he looked at John again, Brian appeared, with a tired expression. “No, Freddie, I’m not going to drink with you. I have class tomorrow morning.”
“Of course you have, you dead dog!” Freddie rolled his eyes, and with a more cheerful smile, he turned to John and Roger. “Let’s go to a pub, darlings? Lighten up our night?”
“Not today, Freddie,” said John, standing up.
Roger did the same. “Sorry, Freddie, but all I need tonight is my bed.”
“Rog, you’re being a bit lazy, I must say. It’s been some months since you bragged about some conquer,” The oldest man showed a naughty look. “Hmm, maybe someone is in love!”
Brian and John laughed with it, and they saw Roger getting disconcerted with his friend’s statement, and in the end the blond gave a weird laugh.
“You can’t blame me for wanting to sleep after you took all my energy, mate,” he just said.
John found it amusing that Roger didn’t deny what Freddie said.
---
After a nice night of sleep, John came very early to the studio. He wanted to try some new bass riffs without Brian lecturing him. When he passed the front door he heard, far away, a laugh, and he was surprised to find that Roger was already at the studio too.
Unusual, but good either way. He could use the drum beats to help him to build the riffs.
When the brunet reached the studio booth, only one of the roadies was there. He said Roger was making some coffee for him, and he left too.
John grabbed his bass and plugged it in the amp, ready to start. He was with the lyrics of Brian’s song in his hands, but he forgot to bring a pen to mark the tempo. He looked around the room, to find a missing pen, and he saw one in an open book.
He was just going to grab the pen and go back to his seat, but he saw Roger’s handwriting in the paper. It was Roger’s journal.
No, John never was the type of person that looked at someone else’s personal stuff, but he was clearly curious. No…It was his bandmate’s private journal. He couldn’t peek.
The bass player was already moving around when he saw at a glance his nickname. If he saw John he wouldn’t mind, since it’s a very common name, but he saw ‘Deaky’. Okay, Roger’s handwriting was very weird to read, but John definitely saw his nickname.
Letting aside all the good manners his mother taught him, John sat in a chair and looked at the page that the journal was opened to.
Tuesday, 03 of September, 1974
Mom called and asked me to visit her. Boring college test. Spent the rest of the day at the studio. Made some nice beats. Freddie almost killed us with a very long recording. Deaky was incredibly cute today, almost asked him out. Fooled myself in front of him – again!
John had to read three times to process that Roger wrote that he’s cute and that he wanted to ask him out yesterday.
No, it couldn’t be Roger, his three years long bandmate, the Casanova band. No way. He was straight. Roger never showed interest in men.
“Is that my journal?” This made John tear his eyes away from the paper and he saw Roger in the door, a mix of surprise and fear on his face.
“Roger...” John could feel his face getting hot. “I-I just wanted a pen...I didn’t want to – ”
“Did you read something?” Roger closed the door, his voice trembling.
John’s mind, always a skeptical one, started to wonder if that wasn’t a very mean prank made by the blond. He tried to peek at his journal, so in revenge Roger wrote something to make him strained.
Maybe Roger knew that John’s heart skipped a beat everytime they shared a glance.
“Did you?” insisted Roger, and even that his eyes were oddly shy he moved, walking closer.
“Sorry.” John spoke lowly.
The drummer blinked, surprised. “So…Did you not mind?”
“Not mind what?” John looked at him, puzzled.
“That I…That I fancy you.”
John let out a weird laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Roger looked down, seeing where’s the open page, and stared back to the brunet. “Did you not look at the rest of the journal, then?”
“Of course not! I told you, it was an accident!”
Roger giggled, touching his neck ashamed. John hated when he did this; he looked extra handsome this way. “I allow you to read it.”
John looked at him, embarrassed, and then started to flip through the pages.
The hotel is shitty. At least I shared a room with Deaky. He looks adorable when he sleeps, even that he snores a bit too loud. The gig was good. Some people complimented us. Felt good with it.
New album. Don’t know what the name is, but it’ll come someday. Brian complained about tempo – I know more than him about the bloody tempo! John backed me up on this. Wanted to kiss him even more after that.
Freddie tried to teach me how to cook. He’s worse than me. Deaky saved us, making dinner for us. Drank a lot tonight. Probably said that I loved Deaky for him. Hope I didn’t.
John quickly saw all the pages. Almost every day in the last six months there was something about him, mostly Roger saying how much he wanted to date the brunet. In the end, he looked at today’s page.
Wednesday, 04 of September, 1974
Goals for today:
Not punch Freddie
Ask John out
Not let the rest of the band know about it – they will annoy you to the end of time!
John giggled with the last memo. He looked to Roger, who seemed nervous, and he bit his own lower lip. “Tell me that’s not a bloody joke.”
Roger frowned, opening his mouth. “John! That’s not a thing to joke about! Also you’re my mate. What the hell?”
“It’s that… you never showed interest in a male,” John raised an eyebrow.
The drummer took a step forward, standing in front of John, and showed a pure smile. “That’s because you’re the first. And to be fair I don’t want another one.”
“Roger Taylor, a romantic, how about that.” John teased.
With hesitant moves, Roger slowly put his hands on John’s waist, and he looked questionating to the bass player, and John gave up, and smiled. And smiling back, the drummer pulling him closer, the brunet wrapping his hands on Roger’s neck.
“You never answered me. If you minded me fancying you,” Roger spoke in a light tone.
He was already there, around the drummer’s arms, but it needed a final touch.
John leaned his lips until finding Roger’s.
The blond hummed, content, when the bassist’s soft lips gave him a warm and long peck, and moved to deep the kiss, parting them. John accepted, fitting his upper lip between Roger’s lips, and the brunet let a sound escape out of his throat when the other man sucked slowly. His hands played with the neck hair of the drummer, sometimes his fingertips brushed along his skin, and he felt Roger giving squeezes on his waist.
It was a question on John’s mind, if his bandmate’s kiss was all that. Now he knew it was. He could feel himself want to stay in that kiss, savoring Roger, feeling his softness. He moved his hands to his face, caressing the blond’s cheeks during the kiss.
He let a smile appear when he pulled away, breathing again.
“I think I made myself very clear,” John pointed, smirking.
“Did you? I don’t think so,” Roger temptly squeezed John’s chin, clearly happy.
“Oh, really?” John was already getting closer again.
“Maybe another kiss can clear it out,” Roger bit his lip, leaning in too.
“Yeah, maybe...”
“Good morning, mates!” Brian exclaimed, getting into the room.
Roger and John had less than a second to step away from each other. The bass player sat again in the chair, and Roger took his journal and started to walk to the couch, opening the journal again.
“Where’s Freddie?” the guitar player asked, rolling his eyes, already annoyed.
“I wouldn’t wait for him until noon,” spoke John. “Roger, this pen is yours?”
John walked to the drummer’s direction, showing his pen in hand.
“Oh, yeah, Deaky, thanks,” Roger tried to not smile too widely.
John leaned to the drummer, who got confused, and he wrote a ‘yes’ in front of ‘Ask John out’. The bassist winked quickly at him and left the pen in the middle of the paper.