Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Can’t we just be done with this for today, Fred?” Brian didn’t spare his friend a single glance while staring through the glass into the booth where Roger and John were tweaking the rhythm section to their new song.

“We still have a few hours of studio time left, Brian. It’s not like we can afford to waste it. We’re already going to stretch the deadline very thin on this record” Freddie’s tone had a bite to it, but Brian was too focused on his boyfriend to actually pay much mind to it.

Even though Roger’s blue eyes were covered by black sunglasses, the curly haired man could clearly see the strain on his beautiful face. The way he chewed the inside of his cheeks, how his brows furrowed and disappeared beneath the sunglasses every few minutes. The way he would stop hitting the drums at the first given moment when John wanted to discuss something about the way they played. Very unlike their always overly energetic and slightly perfectionistic drummer.

But Brian knew what all this was about, and he felt guilt and worry eat away at the pit of his stomach. It was his fault. Because he had gone and gotten Roger pregnant. And after that, he had agreed to not tell anyone yet, because it ‘would just make everyone walk on eggshells and working on this record would become bullshit, Brian’. And of course there was the increased risk of miscarriage so early on, but Roger had refused to discuss that part.

Brian still remembered the blatant fear and anxiety, mixed with hope and happiness in those blue eyes when they had stared at the three positive tests in the rustic toilet at Ridge farm three weeks prior.

They were having a baby. They were starting a family.

And right now Roger was feeling physically miserable because of it.

“Well maybe we could go over the vocals for your.. Thing now? They’ve been going through the rhythm section on this for hours now. Maybe it would give them a fresh point of view if they could just..”

“Oh my God, Brian! No! You know how long it takes to switch up all the gear and the tapes and all!” Freddie grabbed Brian’s shoulder and shook him with frustration, voice pitched higher than usual, “Can you just sit down and wait for them to do their jobs. I know how eager you are to get into your boyfriend’s pants but just zip it up for a while longer!”

Brian wanted to throttle Freddie. He really did. He wanted to yell at him about how it was his precious clusterfuck of a song that had taken a ton of their recording time, and how it wasn’t fair of him to now punish Roger and John for it. How the man that was carrying Brian’s child didn’t deserve to suffer because Freddie was a bloody perfectionist.

Instead, the taller man settled with giving his friend a glance that spoke of murder, before moving to sit down on the couch behind them. Of course Freddie would put this all on Brian being horny, refusing to see that one of their bandmates was obviously not feeling well. Trying to fix a problem he had created by using other people.

Deep down Brian knew he would regret thinking that later on, because Freddie was one of the sweetest people he had ever met. But right in that moment his friend might as well have sprouted horns and held a pitchfork, because the guitarist really felt no love for him.

There were a few more beats played in the booth, before they could clearly hear that something went wrong and it stopped again.

“Jesus, Roger! Get your shit together! I already had to scold your boyfriend for not keeping his head in the game, do you want me to do that to you too?!”

“Sod off, Fred!” Roger voiced his boyfriends thoughts exactly, because Brian was really contemplating a murder which didn’t happen too often.

“Come on, darling! It’s just one track and you’ve been at it for hours! What’s taking so long?”

“Why don’t you play your own bloody drums if it’s that fucking simple huh?” Brian couldn’t see into the booth anymore, but he could imagine the way Roger slammed his drumsticks down on one of the snare drums, completely fed up despite his exhaustion.

“I’m gonna go to the loo” John’s voice interrupted anything Freddie might have wanted to say, and they could hear a bit of shuffling through the microphone that connected the booth to the recording room. Soon the door flung open, letting two very frustrated musicians in. John marched right through the small room, muttering halfheartedly something about needing a break from their bickering bullshit.

Roger made a bee-line to Brian, plopping to sit down on his lap without any further questions. The guitarist immediately wrapped his arms around him, sneaking one hand up to his shoulder and gently rubbing the muscles while the other slipped the sunglasses off of the blonde’s face, earning a whine.

“I actually don’t feel that good, Bri” The words were muffled into Brian’s neck, as the blonde seemed to completely melt into his lap, hiding his face under the curly hair.

“I know, babe. Just a while longer, I know you can do it”

“You don’t know shit about drumming” Brian didn’t take the insult to heart, knowing that an under-the-weather Roger was a mean and bratty one, but never meant the rude words he was spitting out. And soon enough, there were gentle fingers tapping at his nape softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it”

“I know”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s alright”

“It’s really not. I’m just really tired” Roger’s breath was warm against Brian’s skin, and for a while the guitarist could have sworn the younger man felt warmer than normal all over. But he didn’t have time to voice his concerns when Freddie sat down next to them. Giving them a bit of space, but close enough to have a conversation.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, darlings” The singer started, looking earnestly at Brian, before shifting his gaze to Roger. But the blonde showed no signs of unveiling his face from Brian’s hair, so the older man sighed, before continuing, “It’s just that the people from the label are breathing down on Paul’s neck, asking about how the album is coming along. And we are behind the schedule, a lot by now and… Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be making excuses. I was being a shitty bandmate. I’m sorry”

“It happens, Fred. We’re all difficult from time to time” Brian answered, but with a slightly prickly tone. It seemingly went unnoticed by the singer. Roger still wasn’t moving from his position against his boyfriend’s neck, but a muttered “It’s fine” could be heard from underneath his hair. The guitarist frowned. His boyfriend had to be feeling very miserable if he wasn’t commenting on how he didn’t give a damn if something or someone was bugging Prenter.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that the blonde hated the irishman’s guts, because he had been very vocal about it from day one. Basically the only one out of the four band members that tolerated the guy was Freddie. The others rarely missed an opportunity to roll their eyes or voice their dislike, Roger being the most vocal.

But now there was nothing but silence coming from the drummer, and Brian wanted to scream because he was really getting worried.

“Love? Can you look at me, hmm?” He asked in a gently voice, moving his other hand to cup Roger’s cheek.

“No, Bri”

“Dear, please” Maybe Roger heard the growing discomfort in his boyfriend’s voice, maybe he was too tired to fight it. But very slowly, very gingerly, he lifted his head to meet Brian’s gaze, and Brian’s heart broke a little at the sight.

Roger’s big, blue eyes were rimmed red, shining with unshed tears. His face was slightly blotchy and he was biting his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed at any given moment.

“I really don’t feel that good” The complaint was whispered and the drummers voice cracked towards the end. Brian felt a very strong urge to hide and protect him from the world.

“Roger, darling why didn’t you tell us you were feeling that bad?” Freddie was immediately turning his mother hen mode on, starting to fuss around the couple, touching Roger’s forehead to check his temperature, asking if he had been feeling that bad for long, if he thought he was coming down with something, if he had eaten anything weird. His voice had a certain strained, worried tone to it.

Brian appreciated it.

Roger leaned his head against Brian’s shoulder, hands still holding onto Brian’s neck, watching the singer’s fussing with half lidded, teary eyes. The guitarist now felt bad for keeping the real reason behind Roger’s illness a secret. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t the flu, it was the morning sickness that wasn’t as much ‘morning’ as it was ‘all day every day’. But it was still so early on in the pregnancy. They had agreed not to tell anyone yet. So he kept quiet.

“What's going on in here?” Brian and Freddie's heads snapped towards the door, where Paul had just stepped in, with John trailing close after him. The bassist soon found his spot in a chair next to the couch, eyeing Roger worriedly. Now that Brian came to think of it, the youngest member of their band had probably been the first of them to notice that the drummer wasn't alright that morning. Maybe even before Brian himself. John had a weird sixth sense for these things.

Paul, however, seemed more annoyed than worried or sympathetic. The irishman had taken one glance at the situation in the room, with Freddie fussing over Roger who was sat in Brian's lap eyes red and obviously upset about something, and his face had immediately set into a displeasured frown.

“Roger's not feeling good” Freddie answered Prenter's earlier question, when no one else in the room made an effort to.

“He's not feeling good? He seemed to be fine last night, messing around with May on that very couch” Brian felt his skin crawl at the tone of Prenter's voice. It dripped venom and something the guitarist couldn't quite name, but it was not good.

He didn't appreciate his and Roger's personal life being brought into arguments. Even less for them to be used as a stick to whack Roger over the head with.

“That’s really none of your business, Prenter” Brian muttered, his arms tightening around Roger. There was a thinly veiled warning in his voice, but Paul seemed to look right past it. Or maybe he was simply too dumb to notice it at all.

“It is my business when your boyfriend's laziness is biting me in the ass. I'm the one who needs to explain to the label why nothing is happening here, and I'm the one who's getting yelled at because I can't get you to work”

“Laziness?” Brian's voice was suddenly an octave lower, the warning way more blatant now. He had heard the dry swallow from Roger when Prenter had accused him of being lazy. He felt how the drummer's hold around his neck tightened at the thought of him not giving a hundred percent of himself to the band.

“Well fucking look at him! Whining and fucking crying, because he has to work for a bit? I mean really, Taylor! Can't you just get a grip for a moment and spare a thought for someone else than yourself?” The irishman took a step forward, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps to appear more threatening.

Brian felt a heavy coldness settle in his stomach and the little hairs at the back of his neck standing up. A shiver went down his spine, and if he hadn’t been holding Roger so tightly his hands would have been shaking.

“You better shut the hell up, you cunt” Even to his own ears the guitarist sounded strained, his voice thick and shaky with anger. His eyes were now glued on Prenter who, among everyone else in the room, had completely frozen on his spot at the profanity that had fallen from his lips.

Brian didn’t consider himself as a very aggressive or hot headed person. He usually tried to resolve any disagreement or fight with talking, usually in a civil manner even. It was very rare for him to get an actual, forceful urge to hurt someone. But he was fiercely protective of the people he cared about, always making his voice heard in interviews or other situations where someone was insulting his friends. Always ready to step in the middle of a fight to calm it down before anyone got actually, physically hurt.

But now, for the second time that day, he was contemplating murder. He wanted to hurt Prenter. He heard the blood rushing in his ears and felt his molars grinding together as he kept staring the irishman down. Distantly, he heard Roger whispering about Paul not being worth it, but the guitarist’s heart was racing too fast for him to pay attention to his boyfriend.

His pregnant boyfriend. His pregnant boyfriend who was feeling like shit, trying to give his all to the band, trying to work around the overwhelming nausea. Who got up in the morning despite having gotten maybe three hours of sleep, just to keep working so he wouldn’t disappoint anyone. Who was scared to death that something bad would happen to their baby during these first months but refused to tell anyone so they could keep working normally. Who was carrying Brian’s baby.

And Paul fucking Prenter had just called him lazy and whiny.

“Look, Brian. All I’m saying is..”

“You’re not going to say another fucking word, Prenter. You are going to keep your mouth shut very, very tightly. Or I promise, I will shut it for you” It was a cheesy line, but there was not a single person in the room to have any doubts about it being legit.

Once Prenter was quiet to a point that satisfied Brian’s overly protective, furious frame of mind, the guitarist moved his gaze slowly away from him to face Roger. In the two seconds that the transition took, it was like a switch had been flipped. Brian’s face melted into a soft smile, and he gave Roger’s flushed cheek a gentle stroke before carefully guiding him to sit down on the couch. The blonde did so  reluctantly, gathering his legs on the couch as well to wrap his arms around them while everyone else seemed to be holding their breaths.

Blue eyes never leaving Brian’s.

Once the drummer was settled and not at risk of being jostled to any direction by Brian getting up, the guitarist turned his attention back to Paul who was switching his weight from one foot to another, clearly anxious about the situation. Maybe regretting opening his big fucking mouth.

Good.

“Brian, mate, I didn’t mean it like that. You know it, right? You know how the pressure can be..”

“I’m not your mate, Paul” Brian said quietly, getting up and stepping closer to the shorter man before continuing, “I’m not your mate, I’m not your friend, I’m just someone who’s unfortunately stuck with you. I can’t fucking stand your face, I hate the fact that you’re around my friends” His voice was gradually getting louder as he was getting closer to the irishman, and it basically radiating a kind of anger his bandmates had never heard before.

“Come on. I meant no harm..”

“I don’t give a hot, wet monkey’s ass what you meant or didn’t mean. I need you to leave this room. This is a band rehearsal. You’re not a part of the band. You’re not needed here” The guitarist grabbed the lapels of Prenter’s shirt, pushing his face very close, “And if you ever, ever, say something like that to Roger again, I will fucking end you”

Being harshly pushed backwards, Paul stumbled out of the room. Brian had half a mind to follow him and whack him over the head with something heavy but decided against it when he heard slow clapping from the direction of the couch. Turning around, he could see Roger grinning at him, biting his lower lip. Blue eyes sparkly with something else than tears.

And God if that wasn’t a welcome change.

The guitarist walked back over to the couch, sitting down and immediately wrapping his arms around the blonde.

“That was so fucking hot” the drummer whispered, giving his cheek a sloppy, wet kiss.

“Thank you for defending my honor” The tired giggle made the whole spectacle worth it and Brian felt his heart swelling with affection.

“You alright, love?” He returned the cheek kiss, just as sloppy, deserving more happy sounds from his boyfriend.

“I’m a bit better now, yeah. But maybe we should back to recording so we can get out of here sooner”

“And Prenter doesn’t need to come back and bitch until Brian makes good on his promise” John piped in with a small smile playing on his face, obviously very happy that someone had put the irish idiot to his place. Roger nodded happily, staring at Brian with an awestruck look on his face. Looking so much happier now, the little devil. Taking joys of such small things. Like Prenter being put to his place by the drummers amazing boyfriend.

Brian watched as their two youngest bandmates got up and made their way back to the recording booth, John gently supporting Roger who was still a bit wobbly on his feet. But at least both of them were smiling now, already snickering about something the guitarist didn’t really catch. It wasn’t until the drums and bass started to sound from the booth that Freddie opened his mouth.

“I’m not sure how smart that was, darling” the singer said quietly. He didn’t sound exactly angry, but slightly uncertain and annoyed. Brian lifted an eyebrow at him, not ready or willing to apologise for his behaviour.

His boyfriend wouldn’t be disrespected like that.

“I don’t care. Roger doesn’t deserve that kind of bullshit. None of us do, Prenter should really be kicked tot he curb. He can't say shit like that, not to Roger, not when he's pre-” the guitarist bit his tongue at the very last second, nearly spilling the secret he had managed to keep under wraps even in his angry haze, “-pretty fucking exhausted. I think he’s coming down with something. I’d really like for today to be done already so he could get some rest. This album won’t be done any faster if he gets worse from overworking himself and Prenter should really see that”

Brian was quite happy with his quick save, but he didn’t miss the curious look their singer shot him. He knew he would have to walk on eggshells around Freddie for a while, because heavens knew the man had a habit of figuring things out from the smallest hints.

And Brian had given him quite a few already. But for Roger, his beautiful Roger, he would do just that. And he'd make sure the eggshells remained in tact until the drummer was ready to announce their big news.

Chapter Text

“You better be the nicest, most peaceful angel once you come out, after all you’ve put me through already” Roger muttered, stroking his still flat stomach absentmindedly. He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet, closing his watering eyes for a moment.  Fucking morning sickness at half past eight in the evening. Ridiculous.

The blonde had been spending the last twenty minutes of his life hugging the toilet, and he was aching all over, hardly able to gather the strength to keep sitting upright. He blamed his overall miserable state for the fact that he was talking to his belly, and the small bundle of cells growing in there. Something he had promised himself he wouldn’t do. Not yet. Not when it was still so fragile.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his child. Or the thing that would one day be his child. He was just so horribly afraid that he would somehow screw it up, and end up losing it before it even had the chance on life. He had to detach himself or it would hurt too much.

“I already gave you bacon with whipped cream tonight so please don’t hate me” Roger felt the tears pricking behind his closed eyelids again and damned the hormones to hell and back for the umpteenth time that day.

“I’m just so scared for you. And of you. Just... please be alright. I’ll buy you a pony or whatever you want. If you just...” There was a nasty voice in the back of his mind, nagging at him to stop. Not only because the baby couldn’t possibly hear him yet, but because someone else might. His friends might think he was somewhat peculiar already, but hearing him talk to himself, promising to buy himself a pony, probably wouldn’t go over so well.

Slowly, the drummer got up to his wobbly feet, flushed the toilet and rinsed his mouth. He knew Brian was probably worried sick by now in their bedroom, but the guitarist had kindly complied with Roger’s plea of not coming to the bathroom to witness his misery. They both knew what this was about, no need for Brian to see it.

Ready to return to the privacy of their bedroom to maybe get some cuddles from his boyfriend, Roger took one last glance towards the mirror. Seeing the reflection made his heart nearly stop. Because not only did he see his own, worn out reflection, he could see someone standing behind him by the door. Feeling the blood drain from his face the blonde whipped himself around, coming face to face with Paul Prenter.

The irishman had kept his distance ever since Brian’s little lash out in the studio earlier that day. The drummer had hoped they would have at least a few days without his stupid face but apparently that had been a useless wish. And the satisfied grin on Paul’s face made the situation even worse.

“That nausea really riding your ass, isn’t it?”

“You ever heard of knocking?” The drummer hissed, trying to hide the shaking of his hands by squeezing them into fists.

“Door wasn’t locked, didn’t think anyone was here” Prenter said evasively, looking at Roger from head to toes. Eyes looking calculating and the annoying, happy grin staying in place. The drummer was fairly sure he had locked the door, but that didn’t really matter now, did it. Now he was just worried about how much exactly the irishman had heard.

“Well I’m done here, so your attempts of being a creepy perv were wasted. Good night” Roger squeezed himself past Prenter to get out and away, feeling anxiety and nausea building again, only this time it had nothing to do with the baby, but with Prenter being in such close proximity, with that distressing smile on his face.

“You know the nausea is supposed to be a sign that the baby is alright” Roger froze midstep, a strong shiver running through his spine, making him lightheaded. Slowly, he turned to face the other man, trying his hardest to keep his face blank of any emotion.

“What on earth are you on about?” He could only hope Paul didn’t catch the slight tremble in his voice, and the way his breathing had quickened slightly.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere. Means the baby is growing normally”

“What baby?”

“Oh come off it, Taylor. I’m not that stupid. I can put two and two together”

“You’re fucking mental, Prenter”

“I also found the tests from the trash can a while back. I don’t think John or Fred have been getting any lately, so that really narrows it down to you and May” Prenter shrugged nonchalantly, obviously enjoying Roger’s rapidly paling complexion and the way the blonde opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish on dry land.

“You… How did you..”

“Ah, breathe. Come on now”  The irishman went to put his hand on Roger’s shoulder, the blonde being too shocked to shove it off. Panic was squeezing his lungs, making the whole task of existing very uncomfortable. “No need to panic, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Shit, Roger, calm down. It’s all good”

If the drummer had been in a more settled state of mind, he would have doubted the suddenly overly friendly and sweet tone of Paul’s voice, but he wasn’t. So he let it slide.

“You can’t.. No one knows yet” He whispered windedly, finally taking a step back from the other man, eyeing him warily.

“Yeah I figured. And I’m not gonna tell ‘em”

“You’re not?”

“Not my business to tell, really. Just wanted to say congrats” Paul smiled widely, looking like a cat with a bowl of cream.

“You’ll keep this to yourself?”

“Sure. Though I don’t understand why you won’t tell the others. I think they should know about such big changes coming up”

“And they will. At some point, just not yet. And there’s that. So please keep quiet”

“Sure thing, mate. You don’t need to worry, we're all friends here right? Just go rest now, you’ll probably need it. And sorry for freaking you out”

If Roger had been in a more sensible state of mind, he would have doubted it.

But he wasn’t.

____________________

“Just go ahead, Bri. I'll be there in a minute. Just keep the others occupied and they won't even notice” Roger's tone was light and worry free, very much contrasting with the worried frown on the drummer's face as he stared at himself from the full body mirror in their bedroom. Brian hovered by the closed door, unable to tear his gaze from his shirtless boyfriend and the way the early morning light settled on his skin.

“I can wait. It's not like Fred is always the most punctual person” the guitarist muttered, watching as Roger slowly stroked a hand over his belly.

“I swear to God this bump wasn't here last night…” The blonde muttered, biting his lip. Finally, blue eyes looked at Brian trough their reflection, clouded with worry. “They're going to notice”

“They're not, love. Don't fret. Just wear one of my shirts, they won't be able to tell the difference” Brian was done fighting the urge to hold his boyfriend, so he walked up to him and wrapped his arms around Roger's smaller frame. Resting his hands over his boyfriend's on the slightly swollen belly. The drummer took a deep breath, leaning to Brian slightly.

“They're going to ask questions soon. I'm not exactly a fan of baggy clothes and they know it”

“Well you can still say you're not feeling so good. No one likes to go around in skin tight clothing when they're feeling like shit” Brian pressed a gentle kiss to Roger's shoulder, offering him a smile through the mirror. The blonde returned it halfheartedly.

“Let's hope they will buy that for a while still”

“I'm sure they will. But Roger, love. We should really consider telling them some time soon. We're basically family and I'm sure they would be over the moon by the…”

“I know, Brian. I know, okay? But I can't… I just need a little bit more time” Roger's voice cracked at the end of his answer, and Brian felt a bit bad for bringing the subject up again. He knew how his boyfriend felt, he knew about his fears. But he couldn't help but think it would be easier if the rest of the band knew. They could arrange everything, taking Roger's condition into consideration. Making sure the drummer wouldn't overwork himself.

But Roger wasn't ready for that yet, so the guitarist would just bite his tongue and do his best to support his boyfriend.

“I'm sorry I brought it up. I'm just worried that this secrecy is just adding to your stress” Thankfully, Roger just smiled at his apology. A real, genuine smile this time.

“Don't apologise, silly. I mean, you have a point. It's just… I'm scared” Brian knew how much it took from his boyfriend to admit that, even without the way the blonde swallowed audibly, and was hardly able to look the taller man in the eyes. Also the way Roger slid on the mask of a happy smile and breezy tone in his voice just seconds later, spoke volumes of how uncomfortable the small blonde was.

“Go on, now. I'll find something to wear but it would really be better if one of us was in the studio on time”

“Fine, then. Just don't take too long, alright?” Brian pressed another kiss to his shoulder, before slowly walking out of the room. Not missing the way Roger's shoulders slumped a bit, and his teeth bit back into his already abused lower lip.

Making his way across the yard to the building that held their recording studio, Brian just wished to himself that all of this would get easier soon. That they could tell Freddie and John, and Roger could stop stressing about it. On top of the nausea, insomnia and lack of appetite, the drummer really didn't need anything more to bother him. He could only hope that his boyfriend would listen to him soon.

“There is the man of the hour! How is everything, Brian darling?”  The guitarist was slightly surprised by the enthusiastic greeting he received the moment he opened the door to the studio. Freddie, John and, for fucks sakes, Paul were sat very close together, sort of like teenage girls gossipping about something. All eyes were on Brian suddenly, and the guitarist didn't miss the piercing look Freddie was giving him, or the slightly hurt expression on John's face.

The self satisfied smirk on Prenter's face was the most alarming.

“What's going on? I'm only a few minutes late, it's not like -”

“When were you going to tell us about the baby?” Freddie blurted out, tilting his head slightly, his gaze boring a hole into Brian's forehead.

“Uh.. What? What baby?” The guitarist knew he was a shitty liar. Roger was always so smooth with the tiny white lies, it was sometimes scary how naturally they slipped out. But not nearly as scary as Brian's lack of ability to do so.

“There's no need for that, dear. Paul already filled us in. Now I'm just interested on when you were planning on telling us?”

“Yeah it's a bit shitty to hear it from him of all people” John piped in, his tone flat and without much emotion. Brian glared at Paul, who seemed way too happy with his little scheme and the cracks it was already causing between the bandmates.

“I… it wasn't really his place to tell, was it? And how the hell did you even know?!”

“Hardly the point, Brian” John muttered, “The biggest problem here was that you guys kept something so big from us. What about all that talk about us being a family? Don't you share this kind of things with family?”

“We didn't -”

“You didn't what, darling? Think we'd notice when Roger started to bloat out of all his clothes? You didn't think we'd pay attention to him suddenly showing up to practise with a baby?”

“That's not what I meant! We were going to tell you, when -”

“When what? When he went into labor?”

“When the risk of miscarriage goes from 20 percent to two or three percent” Brian muttered, body rigid and heart beating twice the speed it should have. “When we ourselves have wrapped our heads around the idea that we are having a child. When Roger is ready to face the overwhelming responses from everyone. He doesn't need this, he's dealing with so much already”

“Would be easier to deal with it, if he had more people around him to support him, wouldn't you reckon?” John offered quietly, and the betrayed look on the bassist's face almost made Brian regret keeping everything a secret. Almost.

“We decided to keep this quiet for now” There was no way Brian was going to let Roger take all the fault for this. They were in it together, after all, “And you can't go bombarding him with questions when he comes in. You can't, alright?”

The guitarist eyed Prenter with murder in his eyes. He had no idea how the irishman had figured it out, but it definitely was not his place to tell anyone. Even if Freddie had maybe all but guessed it earlier, it wasn’t Prenter’s place.

“It's not really fair that you didn't tell us, dear” Freddie answered, looking at Brian with those eyes that knew too much.

“It's not about what's fair and what's not. It's our business. It's our decision. And just.. Roger's so anxious about it. Just be subtle, alright? Don't let him know you know”  The guitarist wasn't sure if his pleas were heard or not, he could only hope his bandmates understood.

If he was to judge by the expressions on their faces, they didn't. But Brian didn't have any time to try and convince them further, when the door opened again, letting in their blonde drummer. Hair all mussed up by the wind, wearing a clearly oversized t-shirt.

Okay, maybe it did look a bit obvious.

“What's going on in here?” Roger looked confused,eyeing Brian warily, before letting his gaze move to the others. “I'm not that late you guys, come on. I was just catching on some sleep and -”

“When were you going to tell us about the baby?”

Brian could basically hear the shit hitting the fan after Freddie's words. He could see his boyfriend paling, he could see the blonde's eyes scanning over the room before stopping on Prenter. The pure horror on his boyfriend's beautiful face made his heart break.

“I didn't… I…” Roger looked so lost. Brian wanted nothing more than to go over to him, but he knew it would help nothing. The damage was done. It was all out in the open, and Roger was breaking for it. And the way the blonde was looking at Prenter made the guitarist's blood boil.

It was like the irishman had murdered Roger's whole family and spat on the grave.

“I really thought they deserved to know” Paul spoke for the first time, and it seemed to be the last straw on the load that Roger was carrying. The drummer let out a wounded sound, before rushing out of the studio.

“Thanks for being subtle” Brian growled, already starting after his boyfriend. Before rushing out of the door, he turned and pointed at Prenter, “This is the second time you've hurt him. I'm fucking done with you. I warned you yesterday. You better be watching over your shoulder very carefully when you're alone from now on” He didn't stay to see the effect his words had or didn't have, just rushed out, desperate to find his boyfriend.

How had their relatively nice morning gone to shit so fast?

Worry was gnawing away in Brian's chest as he rushed over the yard, hoping the blonde had just escaped to their bedroom in his panic. It was sometimes surprising how far and how fast the drummers legs could carry him when he was upset. And Brian really didn't want him to be running around in blind panic, surely not wearing enough clothes to help him against the biting wind of the early morning hour.

So he knew he was in luck when he found his boyfriend curled up on their bed a few minutes later, after racing up the stairs three steps at a time like a madman. But the fact that the blonde was safe and indoors was a small victory. He realised it as soon as he laid eyes on the drummer.

Roger was sat against the headboard of the bed, trying to make himself as small as possible. Arms wrapped around himself and knees pulled tight against his chest, slightly rocking himself back and forth while bawling his eyes out.

“Oh, Roger. Love..” The older man made his way over to the bed, climbing in and gathering his boyfriend in his arms, trying to hush him. It only seemed to make it worse as Roger's crying only intensified, and by the sound of it the blonde was working himself up to a full blown panic attack. And Brian had no idea how to stop it so he just let the blonde cling to him like a lifeline, while crying his heart out and breaking Brian's in the process.

“Breathe, love. Okay? It's all going to be alright. You're alright. Sweetheart I need you to calm down” He knew this was where Roger's insomnia came out to play. The younger man was exhausted, and on top of all the hormones running through his body, the lack of sleep was multiplying the feelings he was experiencing.

“He- He had no right. He had n-no right!” Roger hiccupped against Brian's chest, the words barely coherent and understandable between the sobs.

“I know, love. I know. He didn't”

“He wasn't su- supposed to… He had no right! It wasn't his… His to t-tell!” Brian just squeezed the blonde tighter against himself, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. It had been a long time since he had seen his boyfriend so upset and it hurt to be reminded of how bad it could be. The sense of utter helplessness was weighing him down, heightening the feeling of Roger's tears soaking through his shirt.

“They're going to h-hate me now. They're going to.. To kick m-me out”

“Roger, love. No. They're not. Don't even say that, they would never do that. You're like their family, you know that. They love you just as much as I do”

“I didn't tell them. I didn't…I kept it from them and they're g-going to hate me for it” Roger's cries were slowly dying down, leaving him with gasped breath and tremors running through his body over and over again.

“They're not, Roger. They're just shocked right now from having the news dropped on them like that, and probably scared shitless by you running out the way you did” Brian stroked the younger man's hair gently, brushing it away from his face that was slightly sticky with sweat and tears.

“This isn't how I wanted t-to tell them, you know? I w-wanted to figure out some nice way to tell them, once I was… Once I was sure it would be okay” Roger whispered softly, trying to catch his breath and even it out a bit. Failing miserably when the sobs broke out again as he continued, “But now it's all gone to sh-shit because of that… That… That fucking…”

“Shh, you're alright. Don't cry, love. It doesn't matter, they won't care. They are just happy for us, I know it. They don't care who told them and how. And they most certainly aren't going to hate you”

And Brian knew that deep down, their friends didn't really care. They were shocked right at that moment, perhaps a little upset that the information had come from Paul fucking Prenter instead of them. But they weren't going to remember it for long. Soon enough they would be busy buying the baby all sorts of things with the last of their money, fussing around Roger, making sure the blonde was happy and healthy.

Yes, their friend's wouldn't mind. They'd forget this part of the story soon enough. But, Brian thought as he held his crying boyfriend in his arms and listened as he sobbed quietly, he wouldn't forget. He wouldn't forget how Prenter had taken a piece of Roger's world and trashed it right then and there, just smiling happily after doing it.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to forgive.

Chapter Text

There were a few things Brian hated in the world. Few things he was ready to give up his left kidney for them to never happen again.

Abuse. No matter what kind. Domestic, sexual, mental or aimed towards animals. It made him sick and it made him angry and he wanted it gone from the world.

Racism and discrimination. Very much fit under the earlier category too in some ways. Because in his eyes, to discriminate someone based on their lovelife, ethnicity or whatever, was to abuse them. And it was disgusting.

One more thing that he hated, absolutely loathed, was to watch his boyfriend helplessly cry and panic until he was just God's honestly too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to stay awake anymore. Brian hated how Roger had to cling to him for dear life, and fight for every breath in the midst of his crying. The way there was absolutely no way to comfort the small blonde, who had had the metaphorical knife buried deep between his vertebras by a person he had made the mistake of trusting in a brief moment of weakness.

And Brian had been at it for hours. Just holding the drummer, telling him everything was going to be alright. Whispering sweet nothings to his ear, quite sure they were all drowned out by the sound of Roger's crying.

And someone was surely going to pay for it.

Brian brushed a blonde lock of hair behind Roger's ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. For a few seconds the guitarist listened to his breathing, making sure there was absolutely no hitches in it anymore. Only long, deep inhales and steady, warm puffs of air on the exhales. No sounds apart from the small, occasional snores indicating that the blonde was fast asleep. For the first time in days.

After making sure his boyfriend was going to be just fine and blissfully unaware of a moment of loneliness, Brian got up from the bed and left the room. Leaving the door open just a bit so he could hear if Roger happened to wake up and call for him.

Quietly, afraid of making any sounds on the stairs, the guitarist made his way to the kitchen. Unsurprised to see his bandmates there, but a bit shocked about the fact that Prenter wasn't present. He didn't have time to comment on it though, before Freddie opened his mouth.

“How is Roger doing?” Brian lifted a brow at the noticeable worry in the singer's voice, before walking over to the stove to start warming water for tea. The shock about the irish fucktard not being present had only diminished the anger in Brian's gut for a few seconds. Now it was back, and for a moment he considered to not dignify John and Freddie's presence with an answer.

But then a very small voice in the back of his head reminded him that these were his friends. Roger's friends too. Who had received some pretty grand news in quite a shitty manner.

“About as good as you can expect” He muttered, filling up the kettle and settling it on the stove before turning back to his bandmates.

“We really don't know what to expect. We didn't expect any of this” There was that slightly accusing tone again. Sure, diluted still with the worry for their drummer, but still a bit too accusatory for Brian's liking.

“Well how do you usually feel after a panic attack and a few hours of crying? How do you usually cope with being deadly afraid that you're going to lose everything you have, because you weren't ready to share some life changing news quite yet but someone else decided to do it for you?” Brian tilted his head a little, squinting at Freddie. “Now if you have even a bloody inkling of what that's like, Fred, add in a few weeks of round the clock nausea and some insomnia, and then fucking tell me how you're doing” He kept his voice down, but by the end of the sentence he was basically growling.

It seemed to do the trick, because both Freddie and John looked about ready to burst into tears. Brian took a little bit of joy from it.  Sure, it had been Prenter who had spilled the secret, but Freddie and John were almost as quilty, being all judgy and confrontational about it.

“We really are sorry, for how we acted” John said quietly, fiddling and picking at his cuticles. Green eyes solemn while he looked at Brian, “It was just a shock”

“Well you knowing was a bit of a shock for us too, yet Roger is the one suffering the most for it”

“I just said we're sorry” John's voice remained even and soft, and Brian was slowly starting to understand that he himself was trying to pick a fight that wouldn't help anyone.

“I know. But I'm really not the one you should be apologising to”

“But you are. It's your baby too. We acted like brats towards you, darling. It wasn't our business to snoop into and demand answers” Freddie was twisting his hands as he spoke, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “We'll apologise to Roger too when he feels up to talking to us. But right now you're right there and you're hurting too”

“And we really didn't mean to make you feel like that” Brian's gaze flicked from John to Freddie, and then back to John and he felt his eyes burning. How had he, even for a second, thought that these people had actually meant to hurt him and Roger? How had he been able to be so angry at them? Because looking at them now, all of that escaped the guitarist.

“I… I can't say that it's alright, you guys. But I get it, sort of. It is a lot to take in, for you too. Because it is going to change things. I'm not sorry that we kept it as a secret but.. I am happy that you know now” And with those words, all the fight left his body and he slumped against the kitchen counter, barely catching himself on the edge. Freddie didn't miss a beat, rushing up from his seat and hurrying over to the guitarist. Wrapping him in a warm embrace, which Brian returned automatically.

“We're so sorry. So sorry” The singer muttered against Brian's hair as the taller man hid his face against his shoulder.

“We're so happy for you too” John's voice sounded like it came from somewhere very far away,  but it still made Brian smile. That was all he had wanted to hear. Their friend's being happy for them.

“Yes so happy! We are going to shower the little dear in gifts and love” Freddie added, now sounding way happier and more enthusiastic, less tight and worried. But his words did spark a small, new anxiety in Brian's chest. He pulled away from Freddie, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“I'm happy that you guys know and are happy for us. And.. and all. But you can't go bombarding Roger with this. Gushing over the baby and all that” The guitarist started carefully. “He's so worried that something might go wrong. That's why we kept it quiet in the first place. Because anything can happen in the first trimester and… He felt like he couldn't handle it if everybody knew, and then something would go wrong. That's why he was so upset. He's so bloody scared and I can't do anything about it so just.. Please. Keep it under the wraps for now”

It felt so good to get it off his chest, but he couldn't help but fear that Freddies overly enthusiastic antics would tic Roger off in the worst possible way.

“Oh, of course darling! No stressing Roger with this until he feels better about it, I swear”

“And I'll make sure he keeps that promise” John said quietly, with a small smile playing on his lips.

“But he can't stop me from buying gifts to the little darling”

“No, that'd be the job of your empty bank account”

“Oh pish posh, dear. There's always credit”

“Freddie”

“You two are such spoilsports” Freddie waved them off, moving to get them cups from the cupboard. Brian turned to get the kettle off the stove, pouring the boiling contents to the cups the singer was offering. For a while they prepared their drinks in a comfortable silence, everyone relieved that the tension from earlier was gone.

About halfway through his cup of tea, Brian remembered something else he needed to bring up with his bandmates. His guts twisted into an uncomfortable knot as he slowly lowered his cup to the table. The others quickly picked up on his changed mood, clearly readying themselves for whatever he had to say.

“Prenter's out” The guitarist said in a steady voice, not leaving much room for arguments despite not sounding angry or worked up.

“I agree”

“You must be kidding, dear” Their responses were just as Brian had predicted. John disliked the irishman nearly as much as Roger, he just wasn't always so vocal about it. So having him agree on tossing the bastard wasn't exactly a surprise. Freddie's reaction, however, made the little hairs in the back of Brian's neck stand up.

“I'm not. I wasn't kidding when I threatened to kill him earlier, either. The moment I'm alone with him he's going to regret messing everything up” The dark cloud was back, hanging low on Brian's head. Even thinking about Prenter made his murderous cravings come back with a rush, and the idea of having to argue his point through wasn't exactly appealing to him.

“Brian, my God don't be so dramatic. He thought he was doing the right thing by telling us! His priority is the band as a whole, and the success and operability of said band. And having a baby will definitely affect that, planning schedules and such according to the little one”

“You're saying my baby is a burden?”

“Of course I'm not, don't work yourself up over nothing, darling. I'm still delighted about the news and I believe the little darling will be a great addition to the band. What I'm saying is, it will affect the way we work. And Paul was worried about that”

“Ah fuck that, Freddie. He wanted to stir the pot and that's it” John piped in, looking at their singer with an unamused expression.

“Et tu, Brute?” Freddie pouted at the younger man, before turning his attention back to the guitarist. “How was he supposed to know that he can't tell us?”

“Because I asked him not to tell, and he promised to keep his blasted mouth shut” A new voice took part in their conversation, and all three men turned to look towards the door. Roger stood there, wearing only Brian's shirt that he had been wearing earlier, but having discarded his jeans somewhere. Brian could see the goosebumps raising on the pale skin where the hem of his boxer briefs ended.

The blonde looked exhausted, hair plastered over his sweaty forehead. Eyes still red and puffy but also burning with a fire Brian hadn't seen in them in the past few days. He looked so angry and fragile at the same time that Brian wasn't sure of whether to hold him or hide every sharp object in the house.

“And it's really not a brain cracker to understand that that sort of things are not for just anyone to share” Roger leaned himself heavily against the doorframe, and Brian would have been worried that he might just fall asleep right there if it hadn't been for the sharp stare the drummer was giving Freddie.

“I’m with Roger. Even more after hearing that the idiot was specifically asked to keep quiet” John received a small smile form the blonde after his words, but Freddie didn't seem too happy about them.

“Well it was a bit of a dick move on his part, but he deserves a second chance, yes? We've all done our deal of stupid decisions, darlings, and I seriously think..”

“A second chance?! Are you joking, Fred? That bitch doesn't deserve anything than a boot print to the arse! When the hell are you going to see that he's just a dickheaded leech that really needs to be gone before he actually manages to break something?”

“Roger dear don't be so dramatic. I understand that you're hurt right now but -”

“You don't understand shit! I can't fucking believe that you're taking his side!” Before Roger stormed out, Brian was able to catch the slight tremble of his lower lip and the tell tale shine of unshed tears in his eyes. The guitarist was halfway up from his seat when Freddie stopped him with a warm hand on his arm. An unreadable expression on his face.

“He’s upset with me, darling. Not you. And that's the second time today, so I guess I should be in the receiving end of his temper tantrum” The singer gave an uncertain smile before getting up himself, and disappearing after the blonde. For a moment Brian contemplated going after him, knowing that something was bound to be thrown and broken if those two were left alone, but stopped himself when he saw John shake his head.

“Just let them settle it. Like Freddie said, Roger's now upset with him. Well, with the whole situation I guess, but Freddie siding with Prenter is so fucking ridiculous that no one else than Fred himself can explain it”

“I can't believe he still thinks that Prenter's a good guy”

“Well, his views on people have always had some blind spots. For some reason Prenter seems to be a pretty big one”

Brian was going to answer something snarky, but the sentence died on his tongue when there was a loud crash from the general direction of the bedrooms, followed by Roger screaming “A bit of a dick move?! Do you have any idea what…”

While the rest of the sentence was muffled by the walls and they couldn't hear the obscenities their drummer was spitting at Freddie, it still made Brian tap his cup with anxious fingers.

“He shouldn't be raging around like that. The stress is not good for the baby”

“To be honest Brian… I think it might do him some good. He's been cowering by the edges of the rooms for days now, and that's not really him, is it? When was the last time, before you found out he's pregnant, that he went a week without throwing a tantrum about something, hm?” John tilted his head, and Brian hated how right the younger man was. “He needs to work it out of his system and he needs to clear his head from all of this. That's the only way he's going to be able to enjoy the rest of the pregnancy”

“You're probably right”

“We both know I am. Besides, how do you think Roger will handle it if you try to coddle him and treat him with kiddy gloves for the next eight or so months? Just let him express himself. Even if it is by breaking something”

Brian scoffed at John's words, but relaxed a little. The younger man had a good point in everything he was saying, and the guitarist knew Roger would know when to stop so he wouldn't end up hurting himself or their child. It had been amazing to witness, lately. How much self preservation the blonde had learned since they had discovered the pregnancy. A rather short time, but the change had been clear.

John and Brian sat in the kitchen for over an hour, chatting about the new album, as well as the baby. In the midst throwing some nasty opinions about Prenter. Dreaming about a tour after the album would be out. Every now and then they fell silent for a few seconds, hearing muffled yelling and cursing through the walls. But as the clock ticked on, the background noise lessened becoming less frequent, before stopping completely.

When it had been twenty minutes since the last sound they had heard from their two bandmates, Brian and John got slightly suspicious. Both glancing towards the door every few seconds.

“Do you think they actually managed to kill each other?” John asked quietly, raising his eyebrow at Brian. The older man frowned, pursing his lips slightly.

“Either that, or then they're just pouting at each other and we'll spend the next week trying to make them settle it”

“Well to be honest I think I'd rather cover a murder than watch those two fight any more than they already have. It's like the laws of nature have been disrupted”

After a few more minutes the curiosity, and on Brian's part, worry, got the better of them and they got up, quietly making their way towards Brian and Roger's bedroom. Not a sound could be heard to the hallway, and it was slightly unnerving considering that the room held two of the loudest people Brian had ever met.

But when they carefully pushed the door open, the sight that met them was very far from upsetting;

Freddie lay on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His arms were wrapped around Roger, who, by the looks of it, had decided that the singer made an exceptional pillow. The drummer had his head on Freddie's shoulder and one arm slung across his chest, his fist tightly squeezing the material of the singer's shirt. The blonde was wrapped around Freddie like a koala, with his leg tangled with the older man's.

Roger's face would have been the picture of peace and content, had it not been for the red and puffy eyes that, despite being hidden behind fluttering lids, looked like he had cried all the tears in the world. Judging by the steady breathing and lack of reaction to new people entering the room, the blonde was fast asleep.

Brian could see the tear stains on Freddie's shirt, but it didn't stop a smile from forming over his face. Apparently everything was fine, if the way the drummer was clinging to Freddie even in his sleep was anything to go by.

The singer slowly turned to look at John and Brian, one hand lazily petting Roger's hair. There was an unexplainable sadness in his dark eyes, but at the same time he looked content and relaxed. Brian wanted to ask if everything was okay, but opening his mouth felt like a violation against the peaceful atmosphere of the room

Thankfully, Freddie talked first, saving the guitarist from breaking the spell;

“You're right. Prenter's out”