Archive of Our Own

1.

It had to be close to dawn by now, in that pocket of time when last night morphs into the morning. Roger and John threw in the towel and returned to their shared room hours ago.

“I’m not competitive enough to lose a night’s sleep over a bloody game,” Roger had laughed.

Brian and Freddie were. It helped that neither kept a good sleep schedule, even by rock ‘n’ roll standards, and both considered too much sleep to be a waste of time. Why go to bed when they could be doing this? This was much more worthy of their time.

Yes, this was worth it, Brian insisted mentally as he readjusted his posture against the side of the bed after catching himself slipping and nearly tipping over onto the carpet.

Freddie sat crossed-legged across from him, smirking despite the yawn he just muffled into his fist a moment ago. “Oh, you poor dear, you look tired,” he taunted with an exaggerated coo. “Perhaps you should give in.”

“Never,” Brian swore and picked up a tile. It didn’t help that the four of them downed the now-empty whiskey bottle a few inches away far too quickly. He was such a lightweight out of the four of them, still not used to drinking so much so often. His brain was sluggish and his muscles ached dully from their show tonight. The bed behind him was calling out. He wanted to win, though, because Freddie liked cheating by using nonsense words like EN.

“You’re not allowed to bring the Scrabble board next time,” he grumbled as he stared down at the board and willed his brain to come up with something.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Freddie said, rubbing at his jaw. 

Brian had been around him enough by now to know that was one of the little gestures he did when he was tired and trying to stay up. His face was pink from the booze and his dark eyes were unguarded and a little glassy. His black hair had been away from a straightener long enough to get wavy, too. Brian realized he was staring and refocused his gaze to his tiles. “I haven’t lost yet.”

“Yet.”

The game was close, although Brian couldn’t remember the exact score right now. The board was almost filled, so there wasn’t much more they could fit. He was able to make a word: beaver.

Freddie’s sleepy eyes sparkled at him in the lamplight.

Brian stared at them, then sniffed and shook his head. “Uh, what?”

“Always thinking about pussy, dear?”

It took him a second, and then he giggled at the word’s double meaning. “Who the fuck actually calls it that?” he laughed.

“Don’t know, really.” Then, Freddie focused. He got a very serious look on his face while he considered his tiles.

Brian held back more laughter. He didn’t know why Freddie took this game so seriously.

Freddie was tracing his plump lower lip with his fingertip.

Brian blinked lethargically and watched him. Sometimes Freddie wore lip gloss. It was a nice look on him. He could always pull that stuff off. He had nice lips. Nice for makeup. Same with his high cheekbones. And long eyelashes. He had such a look. Such an aesthetic. He made that himself. Freddie was a self-made man. A self-made man who was tracing his pouting lower lip over a board game.

Laughter bubbled in his chest and tickled his cheeks. Brian giggled to himself.

Freddie looked up. “What?”

“You’re funny.”

“I’m not doing anything funny.”

“You’re being you. You make me laugh.”

Freddie smiled hesitantly. “I’ll…take that as a compliment and not an insult.”

“Course it’s a compliment. I wouldn’t insult you. You’ve got nothing to insult.”

Freddie laughed a little. “I think we need to start watching how much you drink, darling.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yes, that’s why you almost took a nap on the carpet a minute ago.”

“You’re putting me to sleep with how long you’re taking.”

Freddie stuck his tongue out at him.

Brian did it back.

His face brightened and he laughed. He had a very nice laugh. It made Brian feel warm and toasty. With a flick of the wrist, Freddie put his tiles down. “There,” he said confidently.

Brian peered down at the board.

Xing.

He blinked a few times. “The hell does that mean?”

“Crossing!” Freddie flailed his hands. “The abbreviation, like what you see on yellow signs on the road.”

Brian stared at him blankly. “Fred. That is definitely not a word.”

“Yes, it is!”

“If you have to explain it, it’s not a word!”

“When it appears on the sign, you know exactly what it means,” Freddie sat up straight and folded his hands on his knee. “No one gets into traffic accidents ‘cause they don’t think it’s a word.”

“You’re cheating ‘cause you can’t fit the whole word.”

“Being clever isn’t cheating. Let’s see the score.” He picked up the piece of paper serving as their scorecard. The x in the word was placed on a light blue tile, doubling the score, bringing the total score for the word to 20.

Their scores:

Brian: 237

Freddie: 260

Freddie waved the piece of paper in his face enthusiastically with a sudden burst of energy. “Brian! Briaaaan,” he whined. “Come on, it counts!” he insisted and fixed his large, round eyes on him.

It didn’t count. But as the tug at his eyelids went from negligible to persistent and unpleasant, his resolve broke from Freddie’s pleading face. “Okay, you win.”

It was well past 4 in the morning, they were jet lagged, and they played a hell of a concert tonight, and yet Freddie found the energy to beam and laugh joyfully. “Yes!” the corners of his eyes crinkled and he smiled widely, teeth showing and cheeks pink. It was such a simple thing to be happy over. It was only a game. Freddie was like that, though. While he loved the extravagant and excessive, could find such glee out of the simple things in life, too. It was admirable. He was always trying to squeeze every drop of joy from life. Every drop of sunshine. His face was like sunshine now.

With a lopsided smile on his face, Brian thought, I love you.

The smile dimmed. His brow furrowed. Why’d he think that? That was weird. It wasn’t like he felt anything different from Freddie than normal.

Freddie looked at him curiously. “You okay?”

Yeah, he thought so. It was just…his mind was just wandering right now from the booze. Yeah, it was just an idle thought. It didn’t mean anything. “Yeah, I just think the night’s catching up with me,” he mumbled.

Freddie put the paper down and grinned. “All right, dear. It’s time we turn in. Now that I won.”

Brian imitated now that I won in a childish voice.

Freddie swatted him with the piece of paper. “I’ll kick your arse.”

He giggled tiredly. I love you. The giggling stopped. Why was he thinking that? It was quite odd. He felt fond of Freddie often because he did something endearing practically every day. Nothing changed tonight. It wasn’t like Brian was gay or anything. His drunken mind flashed an image of how Chrissy might react if she knew Brian thought that about Freddie tonight. Ergh. No. That would be bad. He was usually on thin ice with her as it was.

Freddie was looking at him in amusement and hauled him up to his feet, only to gently push him back on his own bed. “I’ll gloat more later. Bedtime.”

Yeah, he just needed some sleep. That would stop the thought. He probably wouldn’t even remember this when he woke up. His mind simply needed a recharge. He nuzzled his nose into the pillow. “’Night, Fred,” he mumbled, and was drifting off before Freddie could finish saying, “Goodnight, silly.”

2.

When they heard the news, a bolt of lightning struck all of their bodies and catapulted their hearts into a sprint.

Freddie’s mouth twitched and he pressed his lips together before settling into a neutral expression. “Has it really? How nice.”

“That’s all you have to say?” John Reid laughed.

“Well, it’s about time the general public recognizes our artistry,” Freddie said with a flair of nonchalance that Brian could tell was being put on. Freddie’s fingertips were jittery and rubbing together by his sides.

The elevator dinged behind them.

“Ah, if you would excuse us, dear,” Freddie said, “we were about to go up. Are you going up, too?”

“No, I need to talk to my driver,” Reid said. “I’ll catch up with you later. Congratulations again, lads!”

The four of them offered very calm, very polite thanks. 

They got into the lift.

Roger pressed the button to go up to the eleventh floor.

The doors closed.

It only took two seconds of wide-eyed staring at each other for them to lose their composures completely and erupt into cheers.

Freddie was positively ecstatic with a huge smile that he didn’t even think about covering with his hand. “Yes! Finally! We’re number one!” he began jumping up and down. “We’re number one!”

“Fuck yeah!” Roger threw an arm around his shoulders and began jumping with him. In a burst of pure elation and excitement, Brian and John joined them, and all four of them were jumping up and down in a huddle in the lift, laughing and repeating, “We’re number one! We’re number one!”

It was one of those moments when Brian wished he had his camera, or a feasible way to film them so he could watch it back when he was old and grey. After several years of hard work, they went from giving out popcorn and orange juice to the small audience at Imperial College, to landing a gig at the Rainbow, to being treated like The Beatles in Japan, and today they finally got a #1 single in the UK.

No, Freddie finally snatched their first #1 single with his brilliance. “Bohemian Rhapsody” was truly like nothing Brian ever heard before and he was honored to be part of it, really, and to put in his touch with his solo, which Freddie trusted him to create. Even though it was his vision, his baby, he was more than happy to hear Brian’s solo. When they weren’t biting each other’s heads off, they could create so well together.

And now the country saw Freddie’s genius, too, evidently. Brian used to think playing at the Rainbow was reaching for the stars, but Freddie brought them all even further. This was all because of him, not simply because he was the composer in this case, but since he insisted to Brian and Roger that they shouldn’t give up and the three of them should start a band. If it weren’t for him, Brian and Roger would have quit after Tim left, and maybe stopped talking altogether. They wouldn’t have met John. Brian would still be agonizing over his thesis instead of literally jumping for joy. He owed Freddie so much.

“You did it, Fred!” Brian told him. “People love your song!” 

Freddie stopped jumping, bringing the rest of them to a halt. He was breathless and pink in the face from delight. “No, we did it,” he insisted. “It’s our song, Bri. We all bloody well did it!” he yelled and jumped up one more time.

“Yeah,” Roger elbowed Brian good-naturedly. “We worked on it, too!” 

Brian wasn’t listening to him much. He was witnessing the unadulterated happiness on Freddie’s face. It was absolutely well-deserved. Brian was also struck by how Freddie didn’t hesitate for a second to include all of them in his song’s success. Not every musician would do that. People thought Freddie was a diva, but he always considered Queen to be four equal parts. Brian knew that already, of course, but he admired Freddie’s generous nature.

“Wait until I call my mum and Kash!” Freddie said excitedly. “And to think Mum wanted me to be an accountant!”

And there he was, giddy at the thought of telling his family about their success. They just reached new heights, but Freddie was still the same Feltham boy in some ways.

“You couldn’t be trusted with the money at our stall,” Roger snickered.

“Clearly, my talents lie elsewhere,” he giggled.

Brian’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I love you.

The smile faltered on his face for a second, but, no, it was fine. Of course he loved Freddie. They were friends for years now, it was normal to love friends, and he was immensely proud of him right now. This was fine. But he knew it’d be weird if he just blurted those words out right now, and in front of Roger and John, so he didn’t say them. British men weren’t supposed to say that to each other.

Brian looked Freddie over.

He was bouncing on his heels in excitement.

Freddie deserved to hear those words, though.

Brian frowned. That was sort of an…intense thought. Well, he was probably just overly emotional from the news. It was only natural.

“Umm,” John said. “Shouldn’t we be on our floor by now?”

They froze.

Roger looked up. “It, uh, it says we’re on the fifth floor.”

“It’s not moving,” John said.

“No shit,” Roger sighed. “I guess we shouldn’t have jumped so much.”

“Oh,” Freddie put his hands on his hips. “That’s just perfect. Here we are, the number one band in England, trapped in a bloody lift!”

“Calm down,” Roger laughed. “I’ll press the help button.”

The hotel maintenance staff did come restart the lift, and then they were heading back to Roger’s room to spoil themselves with celebratory room service and drinks.

“I don’t know if we can actually afford that yet,” John said.

“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Roger complained. 

“I’m not, I’m just being practical.”

As they bickered a few paces ahead, Brian glanced over at Freddie. 

A large smile was planted on his face with his front teeth resting on his lower lip.

Brian’s heart warmed and beat a little harder. He remembered their summer of hard work at Ridge Farm and was deeply glad for Freddie that he felt the satisfaction of being rewarded for his labor of love, which the song surely was. Brian didn’t need to know what “Bohemian Rhapsody” meant to know it was about the things Freddie wasn’t comfortable with outright saying. Brian understood that because he did it in his own songs, as well. Turning your deepest thoughts into art that could reach out and touch others wasn’t easy, and Freddie achieved it.

“Hey,” Brian said softly.

Freddie looked up at him with a friendly grin. Now, he was a far cry from the shy boy who sang with uncontrolled vibrato on stage, yet his dark eyes were the same: curious, playful, and warm.

I love you.

“I’m proud of you,” Brian said instead, speaking up over his loud heartbeats, which was both true and much more socially acceptable. Even though it would be an expression of friendship, he didn’t know how Freddie would react if Brian suddenly told him he loved him. (A tiny part of him wanted to see that reaction.)

Freddie’s smile grew puzzled. “Oh? Why? I told you the song belongs to all of us, darling.”

“I know, but I remember how hard you worked at Ridge Farm. I’m still proud of you, and you should be, too.”

Freddie’s grin faded a bit more as the slightest hint of red rose to his cheeks. He looked unsure of himself.

Brian watched in amazement, because hardly anything flustered Freddie.

He covered his teeth with his upper lip and looked ahead. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice.

There was a little twist in Brian’s chest. He opened his mouth, but they’d arrived at Roger's room.

“Party time!” Roger declared, and the moment was over.

3.

Brian didn’t know how to approach the subject because they never talked about the meaning and inspiration behind their lyrics. Ever. There was the unspoken acknowledgment that the songwriter knew his vision best and it was ultimately his business. If they had thoughts and questions about another’s motivation for their lyrics, they respectfully kept them quiet. Brian never felt unnerved by a song like this. He didn’t like it. Musically, it was wonderful. Nothing regarding the composition of the song was the issue, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a problem saying it.

Brian lingered in the doorway, unusually hesitant around Freddie, who stood outside of the studio. He was taking a breather. They all liked this place, and Brian wondered if they’d ever come back for another album. Something about Montreux spoke to Freddie. He enjoyed being away from the British press and clouds. The creamy sunsets and quiet were a nice change. Funny how Freddie took a liking to this sleepy town when he seemed to desire anything but this atmosphere in his life, if this song were anything to go by.

Brian took a couple of steps away from the front door. “Hey, Fred?” 

He turned with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

He opened his mouth, but still hadn’t actually thought of a good way to say it. Damn.

“Cat got your tongue?” Freddie asked coolly. “That’s unusual for you. You usually never shut up when you’ve got a problem with my music.”

He was still pissed off, then. “It’s not the music,” Brian said.

“Then why did you look like you swallowed a lemon when you heard my song?” he put his hands on his hips. “You didn’t even try to hide how much you disliked it.”

Brian was almost intimidated by Freddie’s hard stare, but he’d seen this look enough over the years not to back down. “It’s the idea behind the song, not the song itself.”

A crinkle formed in between his eyebrows. “The idea?” He shook his head. “You’ve lost me. I must admit, it’s one of my most straightforward tracks, so it’s not difficult to read into.”

“It’s just that…” Brian squinted. “Is that the sort of thing you really want?”

Freddie’s confusion grew. “You’re not making any sense.”

He knew that. He was afraid to say what he really meant. There was a little voice telling him that men of their generation weren’t supposed to have heart-to-hearts. It wasn’t proper for him to think of another man’s personal life. He wasn’t supposed to be this concerned. But, no. Freddie was his friend. Friends were supposed to worry about each other. Brian wanted to be a supporter, but not an enabler, and he felt like a lot of people hanging around Freddie lately were the latter.

“It’s the song combined with how you’ve been acting lately,” Brian said. “I know we don’t talk about our music, but as you just said, this is rather straightforward, and your behavior matches up with it.”

Freddie narrowed his eyes. “My new gay ‘lifestyle’, you mean,” he said flatly.

Brian widened his eyes. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s absolutely not about your preferences, Freddie. Believe me. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s that—I know you. I know you enjoy having fun, but don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?”

Freddie’s mouth curled into a grimace. “Moving fast? I’m a rock star in my fucking 30s. I’m not some virginal child experiencing the club scene for the first time.”

“I know that, but you’ve been going out every single night now and you’re touching stuff you never messed with before.” Brian wasn’t naïve. He knew what came with their line of work…he knew, intellectually. Actually watching Freddie snort a line for the first time froze every muscle in his body and the blood in his veins. He knew what people did, but…but, it was Freddie. He was different, and never expressed interest in that stuff before even with his love of partying. He was susceptible to the praise and hollering he got from Paul and his friends when he joined them in going for something stronger than alcohol. He was much more eager to please people than he let on. Hearing Freddie gleefully and openly embrace all of this in a new song was disconcerting. 

I’m floating around in ecstasy 

So don’t stop me now

Don’t stop me ‘cause I’m having a good time 

Having a good time 

“Why shouldn’t I experiment and have more fun in life?” Freddie asked. “I know what I’m doing and I stay in control.”

For now. “Aren’t your lyrics about wanting to lose control every night?”

“You’re thinking far too hard about them,” Freddie rolled his eyes.

“Am I really, when I’ve heard that you’re out ‘til dawn every single night?” Brian challenged. He didn’t judge Freddie for this, but was concerned about the excess. Too much of anything was potentially dangerous, and Freddie was getting involved in a crowd that pushed him to do more and more.

“Well some of us don’t have wives to go home to every night,” Freddie said crisply. 

Brian wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about going home to his wife every night, but this wasn’t about him. “What about David?”

Freddie’s expression darkened. “Like I said: some of us don’t have partners to go home to.”

Oh. “Freddie…”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Brian didn’t know what their relationship was like, other than that Freddie went from satisfied grins to hunched shoulders whenever he talked about David. It wasn’t a surprise that things apparently fell apart.

“I said don’t,” Freddie raised his voice.

The dull ache of uneasiness in Brian’s gut clenched and increased. Freddie hated being alone, and things fell into place in Brian’s mind. Freddie didn’t want to return to an empty bedroom at night, so some nights, he didn’t return at all.

Brian’s chest hurt. He knew what it was like. He’d eagerly throw himself into any woman’s arms on tour so he didn’t have to face cold sheets and his own thoughts. “I know going out feels better than being alone,” he said carefully. “But every night, to the point where you’re exhausted in the studio? Is that what you really want?” Brian knew he’d been struggling to find his footing since realizing what he really wanted and breaking up with Mary.

Freddie’s mouth was set in a thin, firm line. “I wouldn’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he asserted. “I don’t know what the big deal is. You’re no angel.”

Brian swallowed. “I’m well aware. I also know going too fast fucked me up, and I just don’t want the same for you.” He was two years into his marriage and he had no idea what he was doing or how to have a healthy outlook on sex from all the women who threw themselves at his feet on tour, and he didn’t see any reason why the same wouldn’t happen with men. He didn’t want Freddie to be unhappy. He wasn’t going to find lasting love in the rock ‘n’ roll party life. Brian knew from experience.

The tension in Freddie’s posture and mouth loosened. The four of them never talked about how the industry could fuck them up, and his temper lessened from Brian’s honesty. He blinked slowly. “Brian,” he said softly. “Are you really that worked up about me over a song?” he asked, not mocking, but puzzled.

Brian’s face heated. “Just be careful,” he blurted out. “That’s all.” A part of him felt ridiculous now, but…he got the sense that his gut feeling about the situations people like Paul were leading Freddie to wasn’t incorrect.

Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars

On a collision course

I am a satellite, I'm out of control

What if Freddie crashed…?

Brian’s stomach knotted from worry again. He didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. It would be terrible if he got pulled into the wrong direction just to entertain people or distract from his broken heart.

Freddie looked caught between being more puzzled and being flattered. “I will be,” he said slowly. The annoyance was fading from his face. With the sunset behind him, a slightly orange glow shone in his dark hair, and enough sunlight reflected in his eyes for them to look more like chocolate than their usual black.

Brian licked his lips with a flutter in his chest. He got that sensation a lot lately when he looked at Freddie. Maybe he was just protective of him, although he had no right to be. He couldn’t help it.

“Good,” Brian said, voice a little scratchy. “That’s all I want to hear.”

Freddie nudged his elbow. “You don’t have to fret over me, darling. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I just…” I don’t trust some of your new friends to have your best interests at heart. I’m upset that you’re unhappy because you’re my friend and I love you. Brian’s lips parted with an inhale, but nothing came out. He couldn’t say that. It was all far too revealing. Brian never had a problem telling Freddie he was his friend, but to say he loved him would be new. Even if—even though— it would only be platonic. The thought of saying those three words to him made him flush.

Freddie tilted his head to the side curiously. “Brian?”

I love you. He cleared his throat, disturbed by how right the words felt, which he definitely couldn’t think about here and now. “Sorry, just, forget about it. I’m on edge from stress with the album, I suppose. It’s a great song, Fred. Like I said, just be careful and keep your head above water.”

Freddie didn’t know what was going through his head, but he grasped his shoulder with a small smile. “Yes, mum.” He chuckled when Brian huffed. His grin grew more sincere and he squeezed his shoulder. “You needn’t be such a worrywart, but it’s nice of you, Brian. Thanks.” He let go of his shoulder. “Now let’s stop talking about this nonsense and grab a drink with the boys, shall we?”

Brian forced a grin to his face, unwilling to bring down the mood now that Freddie wasn’t angry with him anymore. “Sure.”

Freddie winked at him.

Brian swallowed again. I love you, he tried the words out in his head again, and his heart beat harder when his mouth twitched with the desire to utter them. What was wrong with him?

Freddie poked his chest. “Come on, dear. You definitely need a drink tonight.”

Yeah, he did. Maybe he really was worrying too much and overreacting to “Don’t Stop Me Now” after all.

Brian hoped so, anyway.

4.

The only thing more unusual than for Brian to have willingly gotten up before noon was to see Freddie alone in the hotel dining hall. Phoebe, Terry, Paul, and Bill weren’t anywhere in sight. Freddie hardly ever went anywhere alone on tour, even if it was simply for breakfast.

Despite the tension that was tugging and pulling at the whole band as of late, Brian went right over to him. He knew him long enough to see something was wrong from all the way across the room.

It was early enough for only a few people to be seated at nearby tables at this hour, mainly elderly couples who likely had no idea who they were.

Freddie was sitting at a table in the corner with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. There was a little plate on the table with lemon slices on it. He raised his eyebrows as soon as he saw him. “Brian?” his voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”

Brian’s brow furrowed. “I came down to eat. Is your throat bothering you?”

Freddie nodded silently, looking down at the mug.

Brian bit his lip. That wasn’t good. The whole reason why they were in New York today was to appear on Saturday Night Live tonight. “Oh. I should probably leave you be—”

Freddie looked up and shook his head quickly.

“Really?” Brian asked. “Don’t you want to rest your throat?”

Freddie swallowed. “We can talk quietly,” he murmured.

He wanted to spend time together? That was unusual. (It didn’t used to be.) “All right,” Brian said. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to get some food. Want anything?”

He shook his head.

“Okay.”

Brian went up to the buffet tables with breakfast food and grabbed a grapefruit. He was worried about Freddie’s throat for tonight’s appearance, since it wasn’t every day that they got to be on American television. He wondered why he was down here alone instead of making tea with the kettle available in their hotel rooms. As Brian approached the table and sat down, he got a better look at Freddie. He didn’t look sick, like he had a sore throat from a cold, but he did look tired and subdued. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans with his hair untouched by gel. It looked like he got out of bed, pulled on the first clothes he could find, and came down here alone.

It wasn’t like him to not care about his appearance outside of his home.

Freddie took a sip of his tea. “Why’re you up so early?” he asked quietly.

Brian looked away to peel his grapefruit. “I’ve been up for hours. Didn’t sleep much.” The empty bed got to him more than usual last night, overpowering his jet lag and robbing him of respite from his thoughts. He invited Chrissy to New York, but she declined. Then again, Brian didn’t ask why or insist she come along. He was the only one to blame for the bags under his eyes and hollowness in his chest.

“Why didn’t you make tea in your room so you could rest up in bed?” Brian asked and popped a piece of fruit into his mouth.

“…I didn’t want to stay in my room,” he replied quietly after a pause.

Brian lifted his gaze.

Freddie was sipping his tea and staring at the white tablecloth.

Brian swallowed the tangy juice in his mouth. His mind already started racing for reasons why that could be. He knew Freddie was sharing a room with Bill, and given his absence at breakfast, Brian didn’t think it was unreasonable to see a connection. Plus, Brian never liked Bill. Every time Freddie brought him along, he carried this cold, curt air about him. Bill hardly pretended he cared about being cordial with the band and crew, which only made Brian fear what he acted like in private with Freddie. He would’ve conceded it was a ridiculous notion if Roger hadn’t said he heard them fighting before and that Freddie admitted they were having problems.

Freddie always had issues with his relationships sooner or later (not that Brian had any room to judge), but even so, he never looked comfortable around Bill like he used to in the beginning with men like David or Joe. It was noticeable , even if everyone turned a polite blind eye.

Freddie was sensitive and private about his love life, however, so Brian had to tread lightly. “Oh. Well, where’s Peter? I’m surprised you don’t have anyone keeping you company.”

He swallowed the tea with a small wince and set down the cup. Still speaking in hushed tones, he said, “I wanted to be alone, but it was getting rather dull.”

Brian’s brain translated automatically: rather lonely.

“Good thing I was up early, then,” Brian said and ate another piece of fruit.

Freddie’s mouth attempted a grin and he nodded once before his eyes retreated to his tea.

Brian chewed and took in his demeanor. It was always a bad sign when Freddie couldn’t push past the weight on his shoulders to pretend to be okay. He was usually quite skilled at pretending. Brian leaned his elbows on the table, feeling like their recent fights and distance were trivial in this moment. Freddie’s downcast eyes prodded at his nerves.

Playing dumb, Brian asked, “Why’s your throat acting up, do you think you’re coming down with a cold?”

Freddie shook his head. “No, I’m fine,” he spoke in low tones. “Just too much yelling last night. At a club.”

Brian’s appetite was diminishing. “We all got into New York late last night. You said you and Bill were going straight to your room.”

Freddie’s mouth moved wordlessly. It turned down in a scowl. Too worn out to keep up a façade, he muttered, “Fine, we had a shouting match last night. Happy?”

“Not at all, no,” Brian frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and looked away. His fingers tapped atop the table nervously.

Brian wasn’t the least bit hungry anymore. “Do you…think you’ll be up to tonight?”

Wrong move. Freddie’s fierce eyes snapped on him in an instant. “I don’t fucking know,” he gritted his teeth. “And that fucking bastard knew this would happen, I swear,” he rubbed his eyes with his right hand. The left was gripping the edge of the table.

Brian did a quick scan of the room, but they were far away enough from everyone else for Freddie’s outburst to have gone unnoticed. Brian leaned on the table more to get closer to him. “He knew?” he asked softly. “Do you mean, he did this on purpose?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Freddie mumbled, hiding his eyes in his hand much longer than it took to rub them. “He knew tonight’s important to me.”

His blood simmered in his veins. “Wait, he’d really try to wreck your voice and ruin a career opportunity for you?” Brian was quickly going from mildly disliking Bill to wanting to march upstairs and scream at him, himself.

“It’s because I made him angry,” Freddie said. It was difficult to discern whether the weakness in his voice was physical or emotional. “It’s my fault.”

Forget breakfast: Brian felt like he was going to be sick. “No it’s not,” he said sternly. “I don’t care what you did, Fred, if he tried to sabotage your work, that’s manipulative! It’s wrong, it’s…” Abusive. A deep chill gripped Brian’s muscles and took his breath away as his mind rapidly re-examined every tight smile Freddie gave around Bill. Oh, god…was this really right in front of everyone’s noses all this time?

Freddie had lowered his hand to fix Brian with a weary stare. “You sound like Phoebe,” he said dryly. 

Too distraught to hold back, Brian asked, “How long has this been going on?”

Freddie’s walls went up and he shifted back, putting distance between them. “Brian, stop.”

Brian’s world was crumbling in this quiet, sleepy dining hall. A million questions raced through his head, crashing against his skull and giving him a headache. Is yelling all he does to you? Brian definitely felt queasy now. No, Freddie has a bodyguard, he should be safe… He didn’t know what to do since they were more or less in public and Freddie was obviously unwilling to talk about it. He knew they had fought a lot lately, but Brian hated it. He hated upsetting Freddie. How could anyone go out of their way to do that? How could Freddie think it was his fault?

Brian clenched his jaw and breathed deeply to keep his voice low. “You know you’ve got people here to support you, right?” he asked.

Freddie’s mouth tightened. “There’s nothing to support. We’re simply going through a rough patch.”

Brian got the sense those words were rehearsed, which only made him feel worse. He didn’t understand. Freddie deserved so much better than this. Even considering his track record of relatively short-lived relationships, this seemed especially bad. Why didn’t men treat him well? Freddie had been nursing a broken heart on and off for years. It wasn’t fair. He could be so loving, so sweet, and he had to run out and give himself to men at night because his boyfriends didn’t appreciate him. It was why Brian wrote “Save Me”, because he was going mad watching Freddie hide his red eyes from everyone after Joe left, but he was tired of keeping his worries to himself. Freddie deserved the kind of romance and care he wrote about.

It felt like someone was pressing Brian’s heart against his ribs. “If you ever needed support,” he reworded his sentence. “Then you’d have it, no questions asked.”

Freddie’s eyes got very big and his lips parted. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow. He retreated to his tea once more.

Brian’s concern and anxiety threatened to burst out of him. What’s really going on? Why won’t you let me help? 

Freddie lowered the cup and stared down at the table. “Perhaps later…some support may be nice,” he said in a raspy voice. “But I’d like to focus on our performance tonight.”

Brian tried to keep his face neutral as his heart sped up. Did that mean Freddie might open up to him later, after all? Brian nodded. “Right, of course. Tonight. Just keep sipping tea until we have to go on.” 

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it?” Freddie asked genuinely, brow furrowing with worry. He always asked for his honest opinion.

Brian put his hand on his shoulder. “I know you can do it, Freddie,” he told him seriously. “You’ve got a drive like no one else. You’re amazing and I’m certain you can pull it off.” His heart thumped hard as Freddie’s eyes roamed his face, searching for a trace of a lie, and softened when they didn’t find any. Brian’s voice lowered to a rumble and he rubbed his shoulder with his thumb. “Just rest up today. It’s what you were born to do, yeah? Like you always say. You’ll wow everyone. I know it. I…” I love you. 

Those words came to him so naturally that they almost slipped out. Brian blinked a couple of times and slowly let go of him, the words sticking to his tongue. He wondered if saying them would make Freddie feel better…or make him uncomfortable. Brian didn’t fear the words automatically anymore. He knew he loved Freddie to pieces, being one of his closest friends. His soul brother, Freddie called him on the new album despite their shouting. What was a little alarming was how Brian wanted to tell Freddie he loved him, hug him, and not let go.

A gentle smile revealed Freddie’s top teeth. “You’re right, I can do it,” life entered his tone for the first time this morning. “We’ve dealt with worse. I’m better than this.”

“You are.” I love you.

 He finished his tea. “I’m going to drink more tea upstairs, like you suggested.”

“You can stay in my room if you want,” Brian said before he thought much of it. “If, um, you don’t want to be in your room.”

Freddie patted his hand atop the table. “Thank you, Maggie, but I’ll go ask Phoebe for tea and lodgings,” he said, voice warm now even with its strain. “It’s what I pay him for! You should rest, too. We can’t go on the telly tonight with a voiceless singer and a guitarist passing out from exhaustion.”

Brian grinned back, feeling a little foolish for suggesting his room. “Right.” He really wasn’t opposed to Freddie sipping tea and napping in his room, though. He sent the thought away. “I guess we should both head back upstairs.”

Freddie nodded.

When they returned to their floor after stepping off the lift, they shared a long look.

Brian had the urge to hug Freddie again. “Remember,” he murmured. “If you need anything…” He couldn’t finish his sentence without going too deep. I’ll be there. I don’t know everything that’s going on but I know it’s not good. Be safe. I love you.

Freddie nodded again, growing somber once more. He went down the hall to Phoebe’s room.

Brian went back to his room. He didn’t sleep at all.

5.

Freddie flicked on the light. “Get comfortable while I fetch you some water, okay?” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Brian slipped out of his clogs and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light in his bedroom. He swayed on his feet, feeling like all six feet and three inches of his body were filled with alcohol. He managed to get his jacket off and drop it on the floor. His body felt so heavy but his head was like a balloon, floating away from him.

His eyes landed at the bed. The covers and sheets were drawn up, perfectly neat from this morning. It was late at night. No one had been in the bedroom since this morning. That fact settled into Brian’s beer-soaked brain until everything crashed hard upon him yet again, nearly knocking him over.

There was no one here to share his space or hold him in sleep. His closet was half empty. Chrissy grabbed her last suitcase yesterday with the promise of divorce papers to be in his mailbox by the end of the week.

Brian put his hand over his mouth to stifle a low whine as the pain from earlier came back with a vengeance. The band had taken him out drinking to try to cheer him up. It didn’t work. He had no will to socialize. He just drank until he couldn’t sit upright in the booth at the bar, and the others realized they had to get Brian home or else he’d pass out and spend all night there. Freddie volunteered to get Brian inside his house and told Roger and John to go home.

“I think someone should stay with him tonight,” Freddie had said while Brian rested his aching head against the cool glass of the car window. “I owe him one.”

Currently, Brian was dizzy from the sharp stabbing of a thousand needles through his heart, and he managed to stumble over to his bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress with his spinning, pounding head in his hands. He had to take a sharp breath in through his mouth against the weight crushing his chest. He couldn’t wrap his head around this actually happening. His marriage was troubled from the start, but he thought divorce was a thing that happened to other people. Surely not him. Surely. He thought they’d always work it out and learn to be good partners as the years went by.

Maybe they should have figured out that part before Brian gave her a ring. Maybe he should’ve known that good relationships required work and wouldn’t magically fix themselves.

His eyes burned and he could gag from how tight his throat was. He let out a small whimper as tears stung his eyes. He didn’t think he ever cried for so many days in a row, but he couldn’t pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. Being a good husband was such a central part of his identity, and he completely and utterly failed. That part of him was gone for good. He didn’t even know who he was without his marriage after being told for so long that being a family man was the ultimate goal in life. No one wanted to be with him. He was undesirable. He’d probably be alone for the rest of his life. Why would anyone want to be with him, really, when he was gone for months on end and acted like a rotten, insufferable wanker when he came back home? Of course Chrissy left. A person could only take so many broken promises.

The alcohol didn’t prevent him from thinking about all of this, and instead made his thoughts come in fast and disjointed. Bitter tears leaked onto his palms. His dad didn’t even want to speak to him. What was he going to do? He couldn’t go on feeling this way forever. It was consuming him, all-encompassing and inescapable with reminders everywhere, such as the empty bed he was sitting on. How was he going to face the empty side of the bed every night? He was in his mid 30s with so much life ahead and he didn’t know how he could possibly face it.

A small gasp.

Brian lifted his tear-stained face.

Freddie was standing in the doorway with his eyebrows raised to his hairline and a glass of water in his hand.

Fuck, the sight of the empty bed made him forget about Freddie.

“Oh, dear,” Freddie’s face fell. He swiftly moved to place the glass on the bedside table and sit next to him.

Through the thick haze of alcohol clouding his brain, Brian could feel his face was hot and damp. He put his hand over his eyes in mortification. “God, I’m sorry,” his voice quivered, which made him realize he was still actively crying. He scowled at how pathetic he was and his chest constricted in another cry. The sting of humiliation drove a dagger deeper into his chest. The band never really cried in front of each other, and men weren’t supposed to do this in front of other people in general. It only caused Brian to feel like more of a disgusting failure. The alcohol flooding his veins rendered him helpless against the fresh wave of tears that spilled past his eyes and hunched his shoulders. There wasn’t an ounce of self-control left in him. “I’m sorry, Fred,” he slurred. 

Freddie put an arm around his shoulders. “No, it’s all right,” he said gently. “Of course you’re upset, dearest. It’s perfectly all right.”

Brian’s heart was weak to Freddie’s comfort. “No, it’s not,” he got out after a couple of hitching breaths. He was afraid to move his hand from his eyes. He couldn’t look at him. “I’m sorry you’ve gotta see me like this.”

Freddie gave his shoulders a little squeeze. “Don’t be. You helped me through a dreadful breakup, remember?”

Yes, he did. “It wasn’t a problem.” He’d help Freddie again in a heartbeat.

“And neither is this,” Freddie assured him, voice as soft as Brian had ever heard it. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I know you feel terribly, Bri. You’re entitled to a good cry.”

Brian bit his lower lip hard to try to stop its trembling. Freddie was kinder than he deserved. Brian was taking advantage of his good nature right now. Freddie should be out having fun instead of sitting with a blubbering moron. Brian was so out of it that this felt like a bad dream. When was he going to wake up?

“Breathe,” Freddie told him. “Don’t work yourself into a panic, darling. It’ll pass.”

He meant that this round of tears would pass, but Brian’s intoxicated mind rambled, “No, it’s not. It’s never gonna pass and I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It will, Brian,” Freddie insisted. “You’ll be right as rain eventually. Trust me, I know it hurts like a bloody bitch right now, but you’ll find someone else in time.”

Brian’s shoulders shook. Freddie knew heartbreak intimately, and yet he always got himself back out there to find love again. But Freddie was very lovable. He was handsome and witty and funny and talented and generous and captivating and gentle yet strong at the same time. Brian was none of those things. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “No one will ever want me,” he whispered harshly, too drunk not to.

“Nonsense,” Freddie chided. “Absolute nonsense.” He had a slight lisp from his own (considerably less intense) night of drinking. “Why have you always sold yourself short? You’re wonderful, lovie. Such a good man.”

Brian trembled again, desperately clutching onto the praise like a lifesaver. 

“I mean it,” Freddie said close to his ear, his warm breath fanning onto his skin. “With that big heart of yours, anyone would be lucky to have it.”

The praise swirled in his chest and relaxed the taut muscles in his throat. Someone as good as Freddie really thought those nice things about him? Brian turned his head. 

Freddie’s cheeks were pink and his dark eyes held Brian’s attention effortlessly. He fussed, “Goodness, Maggie.” He brushed some curls from his cheeks that were sticking to his skin from his tears. “My poor Maggie May.”

Brian sniffled and his heart eagerly devoured the touches and praise. Freddie never touched his face and hair like this. It was enticing. Addicting. His eyes closed and he leaned into his touch. His eyes hurt from shedding so many tears, but he could breathe again. 

Freddie swiped his thumb over his cheek, drying a tear track. “It’s okay to be upset,” he murmured. “But this won’t last forever.”

Brian opened his eyes. He was spellbound as he stared at him and shivered from his touch. “You really think so?”

Freddie’s smile was small, yet earnest. “I do.” He tapped his cheek lightly. “You’ve already calmed down a bit, see? It’ll be all right.”

Brian’s fragile heart melted from his smile and touch. Freddie was always so charming, so caring, and Brian was too weak tonight to resist his heart’s desire to reach out to him. He wanted to hold him and bury his face in his neck, feel his warm skin and smell his cologne. He wanted to tell him how amazing he was. He wanted to make him blush and feel his warm cheeks under his fingertips—or lips. Freddie looked very good tonight, as he did every night. Brian didn’t have enough awareness to fight his recurring thought that Freddie was good-looking and had beautiful eyes. How could he resist those eyes, when they were so close and tender right now? And those lips, too, looked sinfully soft and adorable from his smile. 

“You’re the best, Freddie,” he breathed.

His flush darkened to red. “Yes, I am,” he joked. “But you’re pretty shit-faced, too.”

“No,” Brian shook his head, wincing when it increased his dizziness. “I’m serious. You’re so good. Good to everyone, but ‘specially to me.” Brian loved when Freddie was affectionate towards him. He wanted more. He wanted to give affection to Freddie, too. He wanted…

He wanted to give Freddie the appreciation and care he deserved. Wait, he was single now. He could do it. He could make them both happy.

Freddie pressed his lips together bashfully. “Well, I like being good to you. When you’re not being a tit in the studio, of course.”

Brian giggled. Freddie made him laugh for the first time in days, the amazing man that he was. He always loved Freddie’s humor. 

Freddie smiled too, and Brian was drawn closer to his beautiful mouth. Brian had hardly even registered that he brought their lips together before Freddie was breaking them apart.

Shock struck Freddie’s face like he'd been slapped. He was slack-jawed. “Brian…no,” he shook his head, scooting away from him on the side of the bed. “No, you don’t want this,” he said slowly.

Instantly, Brian’s heart tore apart again. “Yes, I do,” he argued with an emphatic nod. “I promise I do.”

“No,” Freddie said faintly, pain crumpling his features. “You’re drunk, Brian. You’d never do that if you were sober,” he said thickly.

“Yes, I would!” he yelled, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “I thought about it before! When I was sober!”

Freddie was stunned. “You…what?”

Brian ran his hand through his curls restlessly, trying to self-soothe from the increasing despair filling his hollow chest. “I want to try it, Freddie. I wanna try us.” No, no, this was bad. His inebriated mind couldn’t process precisely how bad it was, but he knew it was a big mistake. “Please.”

Freddie was frozen in astonishment for a few seconds before he shook his head. “No, we…we can’t do this now. You’re not right.”

“But—” his voice cracked as his eyes grew glassy again. “But I want you.” Oh god, did he just ruin them forever? Did he lose his marriage and his musical partner in the same week? He couldn’t take that. Please, god, he didn’t want to lose Freddie, too. “Please, Fred.”

Freddie gently pushed Brian onto his back against the mattress and pillows. His hands were shaking. “Yo–you’re very drunk,” he reiterated. “You need to rest. I’m—” He stood up from the bed and looked around, his lower lip caught between his teeth. His face was bright red. “I’m gonna go get a bin in case you get sick.”

“No, wait,” Brian protested, but his head was spinning more now that he was lying flat on his back. He groaned and rolled over on his side, closing his eyes to hide the spinning room. 

“I’ll be right back,” Freddie said, and footsteps left the room.

Hot tears were sliding down Brian’s face again and dripped onto the pillowcase. He wanted Freddie back. Why didn’t he think Brian wanted this? He’d have to be an idiot not to want Freddie, who was normally very considerate. Why wasn’t he being considerate now? Maybe, did he think Brian was just looking for a rebound? Oh, oh that made sense. Yeah, Freddie wouldn’t want that and Brian wouldn’t blame him. Being the rebound never ended well, but Brian wasn’t doing that. He really really wanted Freddie and had wanted to know what it was like to hold him and kiss him for the last couple years or so.

Being horizontal made the world a lot fuzzier. He had to keep his eyes closed or else it felt like someone was using his brain as a yo-yo. He whimpered and rubbed his face into the pillow. He needs to make Freddie know he meant this. He should—he should tell him he loved him. Yeah, that was serious stuff. Freddie surely wouldn’t think he would say that casually. Brian did love him. He loved his laughter and mischief. He loved his soft heart and dazzling confidence on stage. He loved him. Just Freddie being Freddie. Watching Freddie be himself was the best thing of all. He was one of a kind. Special and bright. Like a star. Or many beautiful stars. A constellation. Yeah.

Something touched his shoulder.

Brian tried rolling onto his back, but he could barely open his eyes. They were so heavy, but the spinning in his skull was worse. He groaned in deep discomfort.

“Shh, just sleep it off, darling,” Freddie whispered, rubbing his arm. “No use in trying to get you to drink water now, I’m afraid.”

Brian shook his head against the pillow. He was going to tell Freddie something. What was it? “Freddie…”

“A bin’s by the bed if you need it. Listen to me for once and just relax.” He rubbed his arm more. Then, in a small whisper, “You probably won’t even remember this in the morning…”

Freddie’s disappointed tone triggered an automatic response in Brian, who furrowed his brow and tried to remember what he was going to say. It was something that would make Freddie feel good, wasn’t it? “Fred, I…” He what?

“You never listen to me, do you?” Freddie murmured, sounding a little sad. “Fuck it, you’re in no state to tell me off for touching your hair.”

Brian’s efforts to move and remember what he wanted to say were thwarted by a hand entering his hair and caressing it rhythmically. 

“That’s it,” Freddie said, sounding fond and sad all at once. “You were always very endearing, you know,” he said under his breath. It was the last thing Brian heard before he was swept away by the tidal wave of intoxicated exhaustion.

+1

Brian watched with a raised eyebrow while Freddie squeezed the bottle as hard as he could. “Do we really need that much?”

“Yes,” Freddie said. “Doing things by halves is boring.”

“You’re going to use it all in one go.”

“I’m sure we could afford more, dear,” Freddie deadpanned. “Besides, it’s a housewarming gift. We should be thankful and enjoy it as much as we can.”

Brian crossed his arms. “I’m not cleaning it up if it makes a mess on the floor.”

“That’s what we have Phoebe for,” he gave the bottle another squeeze.

“We shouldn’t trouble him over something so trivial.”

“Why? I pay him well.” Freddie closed the cap on the bottle, which was, indeed, close to empty by now. He placed the bottle on the granite counter, next to the sink. His eyes were shining and he was bouncing on his heels.

Brian wasn’t actually annoyed with him. He thought he was rather cute right now.

Freddie removed his fluffy yellow robe and hung it on the hook attached to the door. He wiggled his eyebrows at Brian playfully and stepped into the mountain of bubbles that almost entirely obscured their new bathtub. “The water’s warm, love. Come in.”

Brian took off his pants and entered the bath. He sighed in satisfaction from the warm water instantly soothing his skin and tired muscles. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a bath instead of a shower. In the early days, before they could afford luxury suites, he could hardly fit his legs inside the tubs (that didn’t always look clean, either).

Here, the tub was large enough so both of them could sit at opposite ends without being uncomfortable, although Brian had to bend his knees a tad. “Look at that, we fit,” he commented.

“I told you we would,” Freddie said, already scooping up two handfuls of bubbles. “That’s why I wanted to pick out the design.”

“I still don’t know about the mirror, though,” Brian glanced at his reflection. He wasn’t crazy about the wall which the tub was up against being replaced by a giant mirror, but Freddie insisted and said he was the one with the art degree, therefore he knew what he was talking about. Brian gave in because he knew he had to pick his battles.

“You’ll warm up to it. It’s modern, very stylish.” Freddie sniffed the pile of bubbles in his hand. “The bubbles smell like lavender.” He brought his hands together and watched bubbles pop in fascination. He scooped up more bubbles, stared at them for a long moment of contemplation, and methodically applied them to his jaw to create a beard.

Brian leaned his back against the tub and rubbed his foot against Freddie’s calf. He was biting the inside of his cheek to suppress his laughter. “New fashion choice, Fred?”

“It goes with the mustache.” He looked at Brian. Slowly, a smirk pulled up his lips.

“What?” 

Freddie sat up and scooted closer in the tub. “I want to give you a mohawk.”

“No.”

“Please?” He crawled closer, between Brian’s spread legs, and lowered his eyelids. “I can reward you later.” His face dropped when Brian started laughing. “What?” Freddie demanded.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—you’re trying to be sexy with a soapy Father Christmas beard.”

Freddie hastily wiped off the bubbles with a pout and whine. “Never mind, then,” red rose to his cheeks.

Brian leaned forward to give him a (still sort of soapy) kiss. “I’m sorry, baby. Do my hair.”

His pout instantly vanished.

With the mirror, Brian could see Freddie’s work and had to admit it was pretty funny. Freddie used the bubbles to style his wet, flat curls into three spikes of hair that jutted out of his head.

Freddie was clutching his sides from laughter. “Oh, let me get the camera!”

“No,” Brian said, and brought his knees together to hold Freddie in place. “Bringing my camera into the bath is where I draw the line.”

“Phoebe could get it!” he squirmed.

Brian wrapped his arms around him. “I’m not having anyone come in here with us in the bath.”

“Such a modest girl, Maggie,” Freddie giggled. He calmed down, but an easy smile stayed on his face, sunny and tranquil. “Funny, I don’t actually get to see your bare forehead often.” He kissed it.

Brian felt warm from head to toe, and it wasn’t just from the water and humid air. His thoughts typically settled down, at least somewhat, with Freddie in his arms. “It’s huge without my hair in the way, I know.” 

Freddie flicked his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

Brian’s thumb was tracing circles into Freddie’s hip. With his slender body in between his long legs, heat was lazily pooling in Brian’s belly. He wanted to feel how slick Freddie’s skin was from the water and soap under his lips.

Freddie kissed him chastely. Then, he put a pile of bubbles on top of his head and looked at himself in the mirror.

Brian chuckled. He didn’t know the extent of Freddie’s love of baths until they got together, and it was so ridiculous, it caused Brian’s heart to clench sweetly. It was just… cute. Simple. Freddie was being himself, having fun with the little things in life. Enjoying a day inside. A large, tender smile spread across Brian’s face.

Freddie raised his arms and puckered his lips, striking a dramatic pose in the mirror. “Imagine if we did a photo shoot for the band like this.”

“You want Roger and John in the tub with us?” Brian snickered at Freddie’s outraged expression.

“No!” he scrunched his nose. “You’re the only band mate I secretly wanted to shag, I swear.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “Might get jealous otherwise.”

Freddie gave his knee a squeeze and slid out of his loose embrace towards the other end of the tub to play with the bubbles again. He began humming happily. “Doo doo doo…”

Brian sat back and watched him, enjoying a rare sense of peace. Usually his mind couldn’t slow down, and he was going to savor this languor while it lasted. Probably until the water got cold. He felt privileged to get to see Freddie like this. If only the world knew the man who the tabloids presented as an out-of-control, drug-addicted prima donna was humming in a sea of bubbles. Freddie devoured life in ways great and small from large, extravagant parties, to a simple bubble bath. Or a Scrabble game.

Brian’s heart fluttered. The thought of them playing Scrabble tapped something deep in his brain, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He just knew that he was completely taken by the man wiggling and humming in front of him. Here they were, in their new home, doing something childish and fun together. Brian glanced at himself in the mirror at his absurd hair. This was his life.

He was one lucky bastard.

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops,” Freddie sang quietly, putting bubbles on his shoulders to resemble puffy sleeves.

“Away above the chimney tops,” Brian joined in.

Freddie beamed. He was always trying to get Brian to sing more. With an exaggerated wave of his arm that sent bubbles onto the tile floor, he sang, “That’s where you’ll find meeeee.”

Brian laughed heartily. “God, I love you.”

Freddie’s arm dropped into the tub, creating a little splash, and he went still.

Brian…was relieved. He didn’t plan this. It wasn’t some big, deep, dramatic moment. He hadn’t hyped himself up all night during dinner or while they were kissing, only to chicken out at the last second. It was simply the two of them spending time together in their new home. Maybe, because of that and not in spite of it, it was perfect. “Yeah,” he nodded slowly. His smitten smile didn’t leave his face. “I love you, Freddie.”

In the blob of bubbles, Freddie’s eyes were huge. He crawled in between Brian’s legs again. “When?” he asked urgently. “Since when?”

Brian felt this way for too long to pinpoint when it started. His memory was never great with time. “When I knew for sure? Maybe a couple of years ago. When it actually started? I honestly can’t remember.”

“Brian!” Freddie slapped his chest lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice went high-pitched.

“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, it took us a lot to get here,” Brian lifted his hand out of the bubbles to cup Freddie’s cheek and caress it with his thumb. He felt good. He loved him. 

Freddie stared at him in silence, processing.

Brian let him, stroking his face in the meantime and sitting up to press a couple of little kisses to his temple and cheekbone. Another time, perhaps Freddie’s silence would have caused Brian’s anxiety to spike. Lately, however, Brian had begun to notice that Freddie grew bashful and quiet when someone gave him genuine affection and compliments, like he didn’t know what to do with them. Brian didn’t like thinking about the implications of that, actually. It reminded him of darker days.

Freddie swallowed audibly. He licked his lips. He lowered his eyes and looked up from his lashes timidly. He placed his hand on Brian’s chest and pressed their lips together gently. He pulled back slowly with an intense gaze. “I love…” He blinked and quickly covered his smile with his upper lip. “I love you and your soapy mohawk.”

Brian grasped Freddie’s chin to give him a searing kiss. He needed him right now, and needed their bodies to love each other. However, “Freddie, I love you so much,” he whispered. “I want to make love to you. But I’m not doing it while looking like this.”

Freddie laughed joyfully. He wrapped his arms around his neck. “Can’t we at least snog in here while the water’s warm? Besides,” his voice lowered and began smearing kisses against Brian’s jaw. “I can’t wait any longer to kiss you,” he mumbled against his skin.

The water did feel nice, and Brian sort of became a puddle whenever Freddie started kissing him, anyway, so he wrapped his arms around his waist and captured his soft lips.

And hastily trying to rinse all of the soap out of Brian’s hair once the water got cold enough to interrupt their kissing was a bit of a nightmare, given how many bubbles were in the rest of the water. They were shivering by the time they got into bed. 

Freddie despised being cold, so he huddled close to Brian under the covers and buried his face into the crook of his neck. “We can fuck once I stop feeling like a fucking penguin.”

Brian tangled their legs together and held him close, smiling like mad despite the chill. “That’s fine, babe. I love you.” 

Freddie lifted his head to rest on the same pillow as Brian. “Are you going to keep saying that?”

“Probably.” He felt like he could shout it from the rooftops.

“Good, ‘cause I want to keep hearing it.”

Brian held one of his hands, placed kisses to his knuckles, and felt like a melting puddle again from Freddie’s blooming blush. “I love you.”

Freddie was trying to hold back the full force of his smile. Trying, and failing. “I love you, too, you bloody madman—casually confessing your feelings in the bath on a fucking Thursday afternoon!”

Brian was busy trailing kisses from Freddie’s knuckles up his arm. If it really were possible to be drunk on love, he was certain this was what it felt like.  “Would you have preferred dinner and candles?” he mumbled.

“No,” Freddie said softly. “It was perfect.”