Work Text:
-1971-
Roger was staring out the window, watching in wonder the changes that spring has brought. Colorful flowers, birds singing more often, green grass, fluttering butterflies from time to time, among other little things. But those little things, which most people did not pay attention to, were what inspired him to sing or write, although he did not do the latter very often.
He took a drag on his cigarette while sighing, not peacefully, unfortunately, but jaded.
He was fed up, he's been like that for half an hour now and no matter how hard he tried to look at the window, forcing himself to watch, he just couldn't ignore Pete behaving like that.
He flattened his cigarette against the Hiwatt high amp in which the blonde was sitting with one leg dangling and the other raised using his knee to support his elbow.
Her gaze drifted to Pete who was walking in circles like a caged lion, cursing under his breath and sometimes muttering. Some mutterings said "Damn Kit" and others were unintelligible. Sometimes he would kick his guitar or violently grab his head.
'Poor Pete' thought Roger. He knew, and seemed to be the only one who did, how much his guitarist suffered from being under so much pressure most of the time. Many could take it as an exaggeration but the blonde could bet his head that Pete was not feeling well lately. Pete could be dramatic, yes, he admitted that, but he hadn't necessarily been one these last few months. Roger didn't feel sorry for Pete, he just felt sad and frustrated that someone like Pete with so much talent suffered so much, it wasn't fair.
He let out another long, heavy sigh thinking maybe he should talk to Pete to try to calm him down or help him, but then he remembered that that was never really a solution.
It seems that Pete had forgotten, or did not know, that Roger was in the same room as him. When he turned around in the middle of his anger, his pretty eyes widened unawarely looking at the singer in absolute surprise.
That second in which all was at peace and their gazes met staring at each other was as brief as Pete's good mood. After a few seconds of complete silence, the guitarist seemed to remember that he was in the middle of a tantrum, his brow furrowed, his eyes turned cold and his gaze sharp as an arrow ready to pierce Roger's chest.
"What are you looking at, Daltrey?" His voice echoed across the room, being harsh and threatening.
Roger let out another little sigh, he already knew that tone of voice and it meant nothing more than a possible discussion. The blonde didn't want to argue with Pete like always, he just wanted to help him but it would be impossible if Pete kept talking to him like that.
"You're not going to talk?" He attacked again. "I imagined it, always believing you better than the others." He snapped incoherently with a sinister smile, as if he was purposely trying to start a fight with that phrase.
Roger wanted to reply him something sarcastic, but it was not the moment and it would not help at all to continue his game.
"Pete ..." The blonde finally spoke. His voice came out firm but a little frustrated too. He was determined to try, not like the other two pricks who when they barely noticed Pete's temper ran away. "You know I hate to see you like this and -..." He couldn't finish his sentence when he was interrupted by a nasal laugh, almost sneeringly coming from Pete.
"Yes, yes, yes, Roger, I know." He was smiling wryly. "Look at me I'm Roger Daltrey and I like to get into other people's lives pretending that I'm helping" Pete teased changing his tone of voice for a sharp one. "Leave it, Roger, you don't have to pretend you care about others all the time."
He wasn't going to lie, that had bothered him a bit to the point of hurting him. The blonde did care about Pete, a lot, but the idiot was in a terrible mood to notice it, as always.
As he had anticipated, it was going to be worse trying to help him than letting him be, but he wasn't going to give up, he had to reassure him or it was going to end very badly for either of them any minute.
At one point an idea crossed his mind, one that might just work. He was going to have to give him some of his own medicine, even if the blonde bothered to do so.
"Actually, Pete, I was here waiting for you to finish playing the victim to continue the rehearsal," Roger blurted out with a wicked smile on his lips.
"I? a victim? You have no idea about anything Roger!” Pete yelled out of his mind. Roger smiled without thinking, the guitarist had taken the bait. "You have no idea how much pressure I'm on to keep this together!" The vocalist rolled his eyes at that. 'Yeah Pete, you're trying to keep this together' Roger thought sarcastically. "You don't know the frustration that is that nobody understands you, that nobody supports or helps you." As he said all that, the guitarist approached Roger trying to intimidate him. "You don't know how it feels that the person you most admire in this world sticks a dagger in your back. You will never know what is like to be stressed every damn day of your life!" At this point, Pete was in front of Roger who was still sitting in the amp. He had already lowered his other leg, hanging both of them. "And you can't help me because I just don't want your help, you understand? I hate you Roger, I always did." He spat angrily. Roger raised his eyes to look at the tall one who was looking at him venomously. "I dislike you so much, you know that?" He asked rhetorically.
Pete, being already out of his mind totally angry with Roger, almost unconscious, he raised his fist, feigning to hit the blonde, but before Pete could even bring his hand closer, Roger extended his arms towards the angry guitarist and smiled warmly. The blonde witnessed how Pete's face relaxed, lowering his fist slowly and almost as if they were a magnet, Pete dropped into Roger's arms resting his head on the vocalist's shoulder. Surrendering himself to Roger.
Pete could not resist, he was so stressed, he felt so desolate and Roger was there... being himself, with that smile full of warmth and with those sapphire eyes of his that inspired a deep trust. The body heat that Roger was giving him made him realize how vital Rog was in his life. He didn't really hate him, or so he wanted to believe, he wasn't sure if all those 'I hate you' had a precise or real meaning, but the only thing he was sure of ,was how much he needed him and even more at times like this where he blond proved once again to be there for Pete despite everything.
The guitarist let out a sigh of ... he didn't exactly know, he wasn't sure if it was sadness or relaxation but it came out of him unintentionally while, followed by that, he felt Roger's arms snaking around his back hugging him and his hands caressing his hair. His body, which was tense a few moments ago, seemed to relax with Roger's touch to the point that Pete had no control over it anymore. His arms were hanging at the sides of his body and they were so relaxed that they looked like the arms of a doll, without being able to move them to hug Roger back.
Either that or was that Pete was too proud to admit or show that he loved him too.
He had no idea what effect Roger had on him, but it seemed to always work, no matter what happened. After a few minutes of silence where you could only hear the small sighs of satisfaction from both, Pete snuggled closer to the neck of the blonde. Rog rested his cheek on Pete's black hair.
"I'm stressed," he blurted out softly, proving that "Roger's strange effect" worked on him compared to his tone of voice a few minutes ago.
"I know, Peter." Roger murmured sweetly as he continued stroking his hair which seemed to relax Pete even more.
"I can't do it," he let out discouraged with a hidden fear in his tone of voice.
"You're the most talented person I know, Pete, you can do it." Pete couldn't see him but he knew that Roger was smiling.
"And if not?" Pete asked concerned, keeping his gaze lost in some corner of the study, feeling Roger's caressing that made him feel safe in his arms.
"And if not, you'll be able to turn it into something better," Roger said, completely sure that he was going to do it. Pete, overwhelmed by Roger's confidence in him, suddenly he felt a small blush appear. He approached his head until the tip of his nose touched the blonde's neck and by an act of inertia, he took a deep breath enjoying the aroma of Roger. Usually it used to be cigarettes and whiskey but the blonde had a particular smell that he hadn't felt on anyone else ... the smell of honey. He didn't understand where that scent was coming from. It wasn't any shampoo or perfume, Roger smelled like natural honey.
"Why are you so good to me?" Pete asked a little incredulous, but keeping his tone soft and slow, at the treatment he was receiving from Roger despite how he treated him previously.
"Because you're my friend," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. But the truth was that the two of them knew they were something like more than friends but they would never going to admit it. There were feelings that they will never going to express, out of pure pride or because they believed they were incapable of having them.
"Roger?" Pete called.
"Yes?"
"I hate you ..." Pete blurted out but not in the same tone that he had a few minutes ago. He said it warmly as if he was about to smile because originally, that was going to be an 'I hate myself' with an 'I love you' but his mind was so relaxed from being in Roger's arms that the word that came out what he would normally say to him an 'I hate you'.
"I love you too, Pete." Roger answered interpreting that 'I hate you' as an 'I love you' as it should have been in the first place but he knew him well enough to know that Pete was somewhat clumsy with affection and words, especially when it came to the blonde.
He kissed that messy hair that Roger always found charming and for the first time that day, Pete smiled.