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iamnotbrianmay · 6 years ago

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The A Experience

Here goes chapter 7, ladios.

okay so, since some people are having trouble with the tag list im putting it first: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill

and now on to the chapter! I’m sorry it’s so dialogue heavy! But the plot is moving forward now!

“Okay,” Brian said plopping down on the seat and giving Roger the hot chocolate he had ordered, “We have twenty days from now until the Christmas dinner and we have to make our break up believable. Let’s get planning.”

He typed in the password for his laptop and opened a word document. Brian barely noticed that Roger had not answered until the screen of his computer was pushed down slightly, “Mate, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

Roger rolled his eyes and started taking off his gloves, “I can’t believe you are going to plan everything.”

Brian huffed in annoyance, “Well, Rog, if I don’t we might end up forgetting or messing things up. Or do you want me to remind you of the Nutella incident?”

Roger visibly shivered, and Brian wasn’t kin on remembering their slip earlier that week, their near disaster that would have inevitably ended with them looking like utter buffoons. Brian cracked his neck, trying to lessen his embarrassment. Yes, that was definitely a story for another time when the pressure of nailing this thing wasn’t upon them.

“Okay, fine, have it your way, nerd.” Roger said as he took out his cigarette, Brian glared at him for taking the ugly thing out in the middle of a crowded restaurant with children all around them.

“Any ideas with how to start?”

Roger shrugged, “Maybe we could just get you drunk and leave you like that on their doorstep.”

Brian made a face, “It’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“Are you kidding me?” Roger said, “It’s terrible, I don’t know what kind of drunk you are! What if you snitch on us?”

“I won’t snitch,” Brian said indignantly, “but I will write that idea down because it’s not stupid.”

“Fine,” Roger scoffed, “what do you have in mind?”

Brian shrugged, “Maybe I could cheat on you or something.”

“No,” Roger said, “they won’t buy that. Make me cheat on you.”

“No,” Brian replied, “I won’t do that to you.”

Roger let out an irritated sigh, “Why are you making it so difficult to break up?”

“Because,” Brian tried to explain, but his mind was blank for a few seconds, “It should be believable!”

“And cheating isn’t a good excuse to break up?”

“Not if it hurts you!”

Roger gave a strangled scream, “God your so infuriatingly polite.”

“I try to be!”

Silence settled between both of them, they looked around, trying not to meet each other’s eyes as they calmed down. Roger took a drag from his cigarette and used his shirt to cover up the smoke he blew. Brian eyed him curiously, wondering if it was rude to ask for a drag. He had always been curious about the cigarettes. Roger caught him staring.

“Bad habit,” Roger admitted, “I know, even more so for a person who sings, but everything is better than the real ones.”

“You used to smoke a lot?”

Rogger nodded and took another drag, “Started out pretty young. Now that I think about it it’s embarrassing.”

“You are trying to fix it,” Brian offered, “that’s what matters.”

“I guess it is,” Roger replied.

There was another awkward silence in which the nearly blank word document starred back at Brian in accusation. He knew he should have just written ‘Roger cheating’ as an option, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not because he thought it would bother the other man, or because he thought it wouldn’t be a good excuse, but because he couldn’t bring himself to fill that page with tangible, and very valid, excuses to break up with Roger.

In the end Roger broke the silence, he sighed heavily and closed the laptop once again, “We are doing this wrong, Brian.”

The older man frowned, “We are?”

Roger nodded, “We shouldn’t be sitting in a cafe arguing about how we are going to break up before we even hang out properly.”

“Rog, that makes no sense.”

“Of course it does,” the blond argued, “we can’t properly stage a break up if we don’t even know each other.”

“Why not?”

Roger took a sip from his chocolate, mulling over his options before saying something under his breath. Brian couldn’t catch it, but before he could ask what Roger had said, the blond spoke up, “What if I want to know you before we break up?”

Brian froze for a second, looking at Roger with wide eyes. Every moment without an answer Roger’s eyes started to fill with regret. Brian could see it, the way his sudden bravado started to dim, giving way to uncertainty. Roger started to get up, gathering his gloves and warm cup of chocolate, but Brian was faster. He grabbed Roger’s wrist, which looked ridiculously thin compared to the thick wool sweater he was wearing. He stared at the younger man for a few seconds, admiring how his long hair framed his face and his blue eyes looked at Brian expectantly. He looked like an angel dressed in the white sweater, Brian notes, and finally snapped out of his haze.

“What do you have in mind, Rog?”

The younger man smiles tentatively and Brian feels his butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

————

“Farrokh Bulsara, I can’t believe you actually wore every single one of my decent shirts and then forgot to wash them!”

“Don’t ‘Farrokh Bulsara’ me, darling,” Freddie snapped back, “and, mind you, it’s not my fault the power was out and we couldn’t do laundry!”

“That was five days ago Freddie!”

Brian felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around, John was holding a white button up shirt in his hand, “Take this, you’ll look nice.”

“That’s my special shirt, John!”

The younger man glared at his boyfriend, “I know.”

Brian grabbed the shirt, putting it on while glaring at Freddie, and then rolled the sleeves up when he realised that they looked ridiculously small on his long arms. He tucked the shirt into his pants and went into the bathroom too look at himself in the mirror.

He looked-- decent.

White shirt and shoes, black pants, curly hair recently washed and fluffed by the three hundred chemicals that Freddie had insisted on putting on his hair. He even had the thick, black, leather wristbands that covered his pale wrists.

Yes, he actually didn’t look bad at all.

He stepped out and jokingly obliged to Freddie’s request of showing off his outfit. The three men laughed when he struck a ridiculous pose, and then grew quiet once Brian’s phone dinged. He picked it up nervously, and saw that Roger had sent him the location of the club he had chosen for their night out.

“It’s not that far away,” Freddie noted. “We could walk with you if you want too.”

Yes, please, do so, Brian wanted to scream, I have never been this nervous in my entire life.

But he knew that he shouldn’t show them his real feelings, according to their knowledge this was far from Brian’s first date with Roger. He wanted to hit himself in the face, but instead just smiled and shook his head.

“I’m fine, guys,” He hugged John, and then turned to Freddie, “thank you for the shirt.”

Freddie laughed, “You look good, darling.”

The older man kissed Brian’s cheek, before wishing him a good night, and then Brian was off. He bundled himself inside his thick winter coat and walked over to the promised club. He was there in less than fifteen minutes, and blushed when he was that Roger had been waiting for him outside the place, smoking an electronic cigarette.

He smiled once he saw Brian approaching and stuffed the cigarette into his pocket, “You ready?”

Brian nodded, and Roger turned towards the man at the door, he gave him a small smile and greeted him as he let them pass.

Inside the music was loud enough for Brian and Roger not to hear anything, the lights were dim, the reflectors all around the room were only there for show and colouring. Otherwise, the room was completely black. Brian could see people dancing and milling around, a set of sofas to the side of the club in which at least five couples were snogging their faces off, and a bar with a long line. The four bartenders were struggling to keep up with the rate at which people were ordering their drinks and Brian felt a little bad as Roger grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the bar.

They stayed at the side, waiting for one of the bartenders to notice them. Talking about nothing and everything, and wondering if there was somewhere they could leave their jackets for the night.

“Roger,” one of the people said, “long time no see.”

Roger smiled and turned towards the bartender, a lanky man, almost as tall as Roger, with mismatched eyes and a thin and crooked nose, “Bowie! I didn’t know you would be working tonight!”

The other man, Bowie, raised his eyebrows, “Neither did I, but the water bill came in a little too high this month.”

Roger grimaced, “Tough luck.”

The other man shrugged, “Who’s your friend here?”

Roger turned towards Brian and the guitarist extended his hand, “Brian May.”

Bowie gave him a crooked smile and shook his hand, “David Bowie, please to meet you.”

There was a scream from one of the people working behind the bar and David grimaced, “I have to go, but I’ll get your drinks once I’m free.”

He turned and started walking towards the multitude of people before stopping for a second, “Nearly forgot, Taylor. Your table is number five.”

“Thanks mate!” Roger called back and turned towards Brian. “Let’s go.”

Brian followed Roger pressing up against the younger man’s back to talk to him, “You come here often?”

Roger nodded, “I’m a VIP here.”

They got near a table marked with a sign that read ‘previous reservation’ and Roger threw his things down on the booth. His thick coat landed on the wooden table then slid down to the ground. Brian chuckled and placed his things carefully, sliding into one side of the booth.

Roger sat down opposite of him, and smiled at Brian, “Nice club, eh?”

Brian couldn’t know, he hadn’t been to many in his years, “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Roger scrunched up his nose, “Aw man, I completely forgot to ask you what you drank. I hope you don’t mind vodka.”

Again, Brian didn’t know what he would like cause he didn’t drink much except for the odd bear that Freddie coaxed him into trying. He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, “As long as it’s good.”

Roger eyed him with interest, “You aren’t much of a drinker, are you?”

Brian blushed, “That obvious?”

Roger chuckled, “Don’t worry, Freddie made me promise to take care of you.”

He rolled his eyes at the comment, then studied Roger. His long blond hair looked freshly washed, a too big button up shirt like the one Brian was wearing was thrown over black track pants. He looked beautiful, there was no other word to describe it.

“So, the band.”

Roger leaned forward, “We have rehearsal tomorrow, don’t we?”

Brian nodded, “I’m actually looking forward to hearing you play.”

“You might regret that,” Roger said teasingly, “I’ll make them forget you once they hear me drum.”

Brian raised his eyebrows, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yep,” Roger nodded, “you’re good, but you are no Roger Taylor.”

“What you saw me play was nothing,” Brian boasted, “I could play that set with my eyes closed.”

Soon their drinks arrived, and Brian and Roger kept talking. They drank, Roger more liberally than Brian, and they laughed. The guitarist could feel the warmth of alcohol spreading across his body and slurring his words once they got to the fourth glass of what Roger had called a November cocktail.

By the fifth November Roger dragged Brian into the dance floor. He was unsteady on his feet, which even without the alcohol weren’t very coordinated. Roger guided him, placing a hand on his waist and another one on his upper arm. Brian imitated him, and let the younger man guide them across the dance floor.

He let the beat of the music flow into his brain, taking in the one thing which made him feel completely at ease, even if the music wasn’t the usual Nirvana or Jimi Hendrix that blasted through their apartment on the saturday mornings when they have cleaning duty. The beat was constant, the words in a language he couldn’t quite understand, maybe because of the alcohol in his system, maybe because it wasn’t english at all.

It was only after an hour with Roger dancing and talking in the middle of the club, that they finally grew tired. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes were drooping, and Roger was the one that helped him get to the table and put on his coat. They were still talking, giggling every time one of them said or did something stupid. They walked out fifteen minutes later, arm in arm, and heading towards Brian’s flat for the second time that week.

Snow was falling all around them, but for some reason Brian didn’t feel the cold. He could just feel the smaller man pressed to his side, and the wobbly the ground seemed to be. Once they got to the door of the complex Brian looked down at the blond. His cheeks were flushed, his nose looked red from the cold, and his blue eyes were wide and unfocused.

Brian felt himself sober up once he remembered that the younger man still had eleven blocks from their current standing point to his apartment. Brian frowned, “Stay the night, Rog. It’s way too cold for you to walk back to your house.”

The younger man’s lips parted and a cloud of mist left them, making Brian’s point clearer.

“You can come with us to the rehearsal,” Brian offered, “and taste John’s pancakes.”

Roger smiled, and nodded. They walked up the stairs, Roger making sure that Brian didn’t tumble down the stairs and trying to convince himself that that was the exact reason why he had agreed to come up to the apartment once again.

Once they got there all the lights were turned on, and there was soft sound coming from the living room. Brian put a finger to his lips and tried to take off his shoes as quietly as possible and hang his coat on the rack. Roger followed, making sure that the inebriated Brian didn’t fall back and crack his skull.

They stumbled into Brian’s bedroom, careful not to make any noise, and wake up John and Freddie. Their efforts were useless however, since the television suddenly shut off and they heard Freddie’s voice from the living room, “Brian, dear, are you home?”

Brian turned towards Roger, motioning once again for him to stay quiet even though Roger knew that Freddie probably wouldn’t mind Roger being there with Brian, “Um, yeah. Just got here.”

Brian cringed at his slurred words and Roger giggled, stepping into the room and sitting on the bed. He heard soft steps and then Freddie saying, “I know it’s late but I just wanted to know how-- oh dear, are you drunk?”

At that Roger couldn’t keep his giggles in, and Brian soon followed. With their secret now uncovered brian opened the door completely and let Freddie see the younger man. He didn’t look pissed, but his expression was not amused either, “I thought I told you to take care of him.”

“He did,” Brian defended Roger, “he helped me get here.”

“We had fun.” Roger added, “if you wanted to know how tonight went.”

At that Freddie smiled and walked over to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. Meanwhile Roger and Brian got ready for bed, Roger found himself in the same oversized pajamas he had been using a few days prior and Brian smiled when he saw him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Freddie walked in, placing both glasses on the bedside table and smiling at the boys, “You are going to need that tomorrow.”

“I know,” Roger answered, “sorry for not keeping my promise.”

Freddie looked at Brian, who was clumsily climbing into bed, and smiled, “It’s fine. You had fun.”

“We did.”

Freddie placed a kiss on top of Roger’s head, “See you tomorrow, dear.”

“G’night, Freddie.”

He clambered into bed beside Brian and the older man watched with doe eyes as the blond settled down on the matters and covered himself with the covers. He waited until Roger was settled down to turn the light off, and laid back down, trying to see Roger in the darkness.

He couldn’t see much, but he could just make out Roger’s outline, and the soft smell of alcohol and electric cigarette smoke that seemed to cling to Roger since they had left the club.

“You were right,” Brian whispered.

“About what?”

“We were doing it wrong.”

There was a soft silence in which Brian could feel Roger press his cold feet to Brian’s legs, and hear the younger man’s soft breathing and rustling around.

“Thank you for tonight, Roggie.”

“You’re welcome, boyfriend.”

Brian laughed, but something about Roger’s comment left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Okay, tell me what you though about his chapter! And know that the next chapter will mark the beggining of the one of the major conflict in the fic!

#maylor #the a experience fic #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #fanfic #slash #fake dating #my writing #i have no beta #please forgive my mistakes

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