The hour before Roger and John leave is the longest hour that has ever passed in the history of mankind.
Brian finds himself staring at the kitchen clock, certain it must have stopped, but the second hand continues creeping around, maddeningly slowly.
“Hadn’t you better get a move on?” Brian suggests when he can’t take it anymore. “You don’t want to miss the start.”
“Nah, doesn’t start ‘til seven,” Roger replies, busily eating all the popcorn he and John had made to take to the film.
Brian wishes he wouldn’t because it means they’ll have to make more which means they’re going to stay here for longer.
“You sure you don’t want to come?”
“No thanks,” Brian tells him. He’s positive of that. He and Freddie haven’t had a chance to be alone together in weeks and he feels like he might die soon; they’d managed to steal a quick mutual handjob a while back when Roger and John had both gone to buy cigarettes but that’s it.
“What about Freddie?” Roger asks, glancing around. “Where’d he go, anyway?”
“Shower,” Brian supplies. That’s torture, too. If Roger and John would leave already Brian could go and surprise him in there. Their shower isn’t big enough (or frankly clean enough) to really have any fun in there but they could at least start before moving to the bedroom.
“Oh,” Roger says, glancing up at the ceiling where he can hear the hum of the pipes, now he listens for it. “I didn’t think he was going out tonight?”
“He’s not,” Brian says, then wonders if he answered too quickly. “Well, I don’t think,” he adds. “I don’t know what he’s doing tonight. I haven’t spoken to him about it.”
Roger gives him an odd look and Brian makes a vow to himself to get better at lying but Roger doesn’t comment. Their only saving grace is that the truth is so unexpected, neither Roger or John would ever even think to suspect it.
“Well I want to shower before we leave so he’d better be quick,” Roger says and Brian resists the urge to sigh.
“Who’d better be quick?” John asks as he joins them, slapping Roger’s hand away from their already well-depleted popcorn stash.
“Freddie, tarting himself up,” Roger says, shooting John a dirty look and throwing an errant bit of popcorn at him in protest.
Deaky frowns. “I thought he was staying in tonight?”
Roger shrugs. “Guess not.”
Brian wants to kill them both. “I don’t think you’ll have time to shower, anyway, Rog,” he says, getting up to busy himself with making a cup of coffee so he can deliver his newly thought of lie oh-so-casually. “There were closures on Circle and District today and most of the other lines were running restricted services.”
Complete bullshit, of course, but Brian’s very keen to usher them out of the house.
Roger swings himself off the counter he’s been perched on and hurries off to get changed while Deaky mutters under his breath and sets about making more popcorn.
Brian’s very pleased with himself, stirring sugar into his coffee because he wants to be as awake as possible for tonight; they’ve only got a few hours while Roger and John are out and they need to make the most of them.
He sips his coffee while they tear about in a flat panic and breeze out with one last, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?” before the door slams shut behind them.
Brian immediately tips the rest of his coffee away and sprints upstairs to his and John’s room, diving under his bed to dig out the candles he bought this week, tearing open the packaging.
Freddie’s still in the shower but Brian moves quickly, not sure when he’ll be out. He sets candles all around the room, on his desk and bedside table and the windowsill, doing another lap after with matches to light them all.
The ones in the window gutter badly in the perpetual draft that seems to come through but they stay lit.
It’s still a little dark so Brian switches his lamp on as well, and then the one on his desk, then steps back to survey his handiwork.
He tugs the edge of his duvet straight, smoothing it down over the corner of the mattress. Picks up his pillow and gives it a good shake to try and plump it up a bit.
He knows it is but Brian opens the drawer in his bedside table to check his lube’s still in there, because he doesn’t plan on letting anything interrupt once they get started.
The bathroom door opens down the hall and Brian quickly slips out to meet Freddie before he can disappear into his and Roger’s room.
“Darling,” Freddie grins when he sees him, absolutely gorgeous even damp and red-faced from the steam.
“They’re gone,” Brian tells him, crossing the distance between them because he can’t help himself and giving Freddie a long kiss, hands settling on his hips. “Place is ours.”
Freddie sighs against his mouth when Brian pulls away just enough to speak and his eyelashes flutter. “Kiss me again,” he says, puckering his lips. “I’ve missed you.”
Brian kisses him, but only briefly. “Go on and dry your hair,” he says, giving Freddie a gentle thwack on the ass to hurry him along. He’d happily take Freddie to bed dripping wet from the shower but Freddie’s quite fussy about that sort of thing and trying to talk him out of it will only waste more time.
Freddie laughs and twirls away, clutching his towel so it won’t fall. “I’ll make myself pretty for you,” he promises over his shoulder.
“You’re already the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Brian tells him, and means it. “Even in your towel turban. Just dry your hair, don’t spend hours finding an outfit you’re only going to take off. Freddie!” Brian calls out as the door shuts. “We don’t have long!”
“Don’t worry, darling!” Freddie’s muffled through the door. “I’ll only be a minute.”
A total lie, Freddie’s never done anything in one minute in his life but Brian doesn’t hassle him any further, leaving him to it once he hears the hair dryer going. It does at least give him some time to pick out a record and Brian thoughtfully eyes up his collection, pulling out a few albums as he considers them. But there’s no choice in the end, really. It has to be Jimi.
Brian slips the album out of its sleeve and gently places it in his record player, lowering the needle down until Purple Haze begins playing softly. They usually listen to this up as loud as it will go, until Brian’s speakers distort, but tonight is meant to be quieter than that.
Brian smiles as he turns around and looks at the room one last time, pleased with how it’s turned out, and as though they’ve timed it, Freddie appears in the doorway in the same moment.
He’s in a silk robe destined for the clothing stall and gives a soft gasp when he takes in the room, pausing in the doorway with his eyes wide.
“Oh! Did you do this for me?”
Brian could make a joke, some dry remark about how it’s for someone else he plans on shagging, but he doesn’t. He crosses the room and takes both of Freddie’s hands in his, gently pulling him inside.
“Of course I did.”
Freddie throws his arms around Brian and kisses him eagerly, leaning into him until Brian’s hands go to his waist to steady him.
They barely even pause for breath, they just stay right there and kiss because they’ve not had a chance in so long and they need to make the most of it, memorise it all over again to get them through until they can next steal some time.
Eventually, though, Brian’s hands start wandering, his fingers sliding underneath Freddie’s robe, pushing it open with one hand while the other tugs on the belt. Once it’s open his hands move freely, up Freddie’s chest, fingertips gently grazing his nipples until he gets to Freddie’s shoulders and casually slips the robe over them so it falls on the floor at their feet.
Freddie presses against him from head to toe once he’s naked and Brian wraps an arm around his waist, guiding him over to the bed.
They lay down together, carefully, and Brian kneels above him for a moment as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside before falling down onto Freddie and getting back to kissing him.
“These off too,” Freddie says quickly, trying to yank Brian’s trousers down without even opening the button.
Brian complies while trying not to stop kissing him, fumbling to open his fly while Freddie’s hands frankly just get in the way, not that Brian can really complain when he wraps his fingers around his cock.
He’s hard already, been bordering on it every time he’s thought about tonight for the past few days—it’s been too fucking long—and groans when Freddie touches him, grinding down into his fist and pressing against Freddie as much as he can, their chests and legs and cocks and mouths together.
“God,” Brian says, breaking their kiss for only a moment so he can get the words out, “I just—fucking—love it—when you’re naked.” It’s not the most poetic or romantic thing he’s ever said but his brain is barely engaged right now, far too distracted by the feeling of so much of Freddie’s skin under him and, oh yeah, the hand on his cock. Trying to have a quick wank in the shower while three other people hammer on the door demanding you hurry up just isn’t the same.
Brian would love to just lie there and make out while Freddie gives him a much needed handjob but he does want to get laid so he reaches down and catches Freddie’s hand in his, stopping him before they can get carried away.
Freddie lets go at once and holds onto his shoulders instead, focusing back on kissing him while Brian lazily rolls their hips together, humming with pleasure. They’re both already leaking, neither of them are going to last long. Hopefully Roger and John’s movie is long enough that they’ll have time to fuck at least twice before they get home. Personally, Brian’s hoping for three; he’s absolutely positive that he’s horny enough to manage it right now.
He fumbles around for the lube without breaking stride, leaning on his elbows and opening the bottle above Freddie’s head so he won’t have to stop kissing him, blindly coating his fingers.
He’s desperate to bury his cock in something but Brian takes his time, forcing himself to take a couple of deep breaths because he doesn’t want to rush this; that wasn’t the point of any of this. He wants to enjoy it, appreciate it, fuck Freddie in the candlelight and show him how much he loves him.
He takes it slow, steadily opening Freddie with his fingers while Freddie moans quietly, humming along to Jimi to try and distract himself from coming too soon.
“Love you,” Brian mutters to him, kissing his neck as he works a third finger inside and slowly rotates his wrist. “Love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Freddie gasps, wrapping his legs around Brian’s waist and pushing down against his fingers. “Oh, darling, please just fuck me, I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.”
Brian laughs and sucks without thinking, gently biting down as he removes his fingers and strokes himself a few times, more than enough lube and precome on his hand to slick his cock, and fumbles between them to line himself up.
He nudges up against Freddie, clumsy because he can’t see what he’s doing, just sliding the head of his cock between his cheeks for a few seconds before he manages to find Freddie’s opening and push inside.
Brian groans as he sinks in, quickly finding Freddie’s mouth to slip his tongue inside again, and sighs with relief.
Far too distracted by the sex they’ve both been waiting for for weeks, neither of them hear the front door open downstairs.
“Why wouldn’t you bring it with you?” Roger demands as they both hurry back down the street, having just jumped off the bus at the nearest stop to their house.
“I said I was sorry,” John huffs, starting to jog. There’s no point in rushing now, they’ve missed this showing and they’re going to have to go to a later one, but it’s difficult not to feel hurried and John’s hoping they might catch the next one rather than the late-night one.
If they’re quick, and lucky with the bus times, they might just make it.
He’d forgotten his ID, left it in his other jeans, and the damn clerk at the movie theatre had unexpectedly asked for it, then refused to sell them tickets when John couldn’t provide it.
Roger had not been pleased, muttering low curses about John’s ‘fucking baby face’ the entire bus ride back, hasn’t let up for even a moment since they walked out of the cinema.
“God, give it a rest, Rog!” Deaky finally snaps at him, fumbling with his door key. “There’s another showing in an hour, we’ll make it to that one, alright? My ID’s in my room, it’ll take two seconds to grab it.” And as long as there’s another bus in the next twenty minutes, they’ll be fine.
“Yeah and get there right before it starts and be left with the shit seats,” Roger says gloomily, stomping inside after John and giving a loud sigh. “Guess which moron forgot to bring ID!” he calls out, then pauses when there’s no reply.
John frowns and pokes his head into the living room. “They’re not here,” he says, glancing back at Roger. “I thought they were staying in?”
“Bloody assholes, I bet they’ve gone to that new disco that just opened up!” Roger says, even more incensed about this than about John’s ID. “Freddie said he could get a couple of tickets off a friend, if he’s taken Brian over me I’ll kill him! I thought it was weird he was getting ready earlier!”
“So did I,” Deaky frowns, heading up the stairs. “They won’t have gone to that disco without us, don’t w—”
He pauses for a moment, confused because he can hear something coming from his and Brian’s room, but it’s not a long enough moment for him to really think, because he opens the door.
And nothing in the world could have prepared him for what he sees.
The room’s beautifully lit with dozens of gently flickering candles and soft lamplight, record player crackling softly at the end of an album, and Brian is balls-deep in Freddie on Brian’s bed, the two of them naked and frantically shagging in complete and blissful ignorance of their unwitting audience.
For a moment, John is frozen in shock.
Then Roger appears at his shoulder and gasps. “What the FUCK!” he yells, loud enough to make Deaky jump.
Freddie looks up and shrieks just as Brian looks around, scrambling so quickly he nearly falls off the bed before grabbing the blanket and throwing it over both himself and Freddie, his face white.
“What the—what the fuck are you doing here?” Brian demands when he recovers enough, his face soon turning from white to pink to red while Freddie presses both hands over his face and moans quietly.
“What the fuck are we doing?” Roger demands, staring wide-eyed. “What the fuck are you doing! Are you two fucking? What the fuck?”
“Get out!” Brian yells, his voice a bit strangled from the shock. He grabs the matchbox off the bedside table and launches it at the two of them, where it glances off of Roger’s shoulder and lands on the floor, scattering matches everywhere.
Roger takes a step back, just gaping, and Deaky grabs him.
“Get OUT,” Brian shouts again, and the door finally slams shut as John manages to get Roger out of the doorway.
“Oh God,” Freddie says quietly, face still in his hands. “Oh God. Bri! What are we going to do?”
“Ssh, don’t worry, Fred,” Brian says softly, tugging Freddie’s hands down and pulling him close, laying back down with him. “They were bound to find out eventually. Fucking assholes, what are they even doing back already?”
“They're going to freak,” Freddie whispers, horrified. “They won’t want to be in the band.”
“Oh, hush,” Brian says quickly, tapping Freddie’s lips with his finger. “Of course they will. Come on,” he murmurs, stroking his hand down Freddie’s side and onto his ass. “I’m not letting them ruin this for us.” Not when he’s been waiting weeks for some time alone with Freddie. Let them stew in it for a while; they should have bloody knocked.
“We should go down and explain,” Freddie says, but he opens his legs for Brian when his hand wanders and moans quietly when his fingers slide home.
“We can explain later,” Brian tells him, kissing his neck and lining his cock up again, slipping inside quite easily. “We’ve been waiting weeks for this.”
Freddie closes his eyes. “What if they don’t want to be in a band with two queers?” he whispers, terrified.
“They’re already in a band with two queers, Fred,” Brian points out, gently rolling his hips. “They’re not going to have a problem with that. They’ll just be pissed we hid it from them.”
Freddie sniffs quietly and wraps an arm around Brian’s shoulders, pulling him down as close as possible. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Brian says, kissing him firmly. “Now can we please stop talking about Roger and John? It’s killing my erection.”
Freddie can’t help but snort at that, because it’s blatantly untrue, but complies; it is their date night, after all, and it would be a shame to waste it.
The movie is long forgotten.
Roger and John sit downstairs in the living room like shell-shocked soldiers home from the war.
Twenty minutes pass before Brian and Freddie emerge, both wild-haired and pink-cheeked, Freddie in a crumpled robe and Brian in an old pair of jogging bottoms that are too short in the leg. Even if Roger and John hadn’t just been witness to what they were doing upstairs, it’s obvious just from looking at them. Freddie has a vivid hickey on his neck and Brian has a very pleased-with-himself look that’s no trouble to decipher.
It’s silent for a few beats.
“So…” It’s Roger who breaks it. “You guys are fucking.” It’s accusatory and Freddie draws back a bit until Brian loops a comforting arm around his waist.
“We were going to tell you soon,” Brian says calmly, tugging Freddie further into the living room and sitting them both down on the sofa. “We’ve just been figuring out how.”
“Oh, how about, ‘Hey Roger, hey John, just so you know I’m shagging Freddie’. Gee, that was easy! Wasn’t that easy, Deaks?” Roger snaps.
“Oh, fuck off, Rog,” Brian says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not as easy as that and you know it. Look how you’re reacting right now!”
“Because you didn’t tell us!” Roger shoots back, getting up. “If you’d told us over a drink or whatever I wouldn’t have minded! How long has this been going on?”
Brian and Freddie glance at each other. The guilty looks confirm that it’s not just been a few days or weeks.
“Oh, Christ,” Roger sighs.
“Well, neither of you have been out on a date since…” Deaky pauses, thinking back. “God, must’ve been that rugby player, Freddie. Where it turned out he had a girlfriend.”
Freddie winces and bites his lip.
Roger correctly interprets. “Since then?” he demands. “That was in like, June!”
“Not right then,” Brian quickly defends them. “It was a few weeks after.”
“Well, it was one week after,” Freddie amends, unable to help himself.
Roger lets out an indignant huff. “I’m your best friend!” he says loudly. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because!” Freddie says, but he doesn’t have a good response. He and Brian have talked about it so many times, trying to figure out how and when and what the fuck they should say, but it just never seemed to be the right time. “It just sort of...there was no good time to say it, darling. And then it had gone on so long it seemed impossible.”
Roger just shakes his head.
“Roger, please don’t be angry with us,” Freddie says desperately, leaving Brian’s side and crossing to him, grabbing his hands. “We’re not just messing around, this is...it’s…”
He looks helplessly over his shoulder at Brian.
“It’s real,” Brian says simply. “This isn’t just some casual thing.”
Roger looks over Freddie’s shoulder at him and sighs, but he doesn’t pull his hands away from Freddie. “Yeah, I get that,” he says slowly. “I don’t...look, we don’t care what you do, do we?” he asks, looking over at Deaky who nods his agreement. “I mean, we don’t have a problem with it. Obviously we don’t. I just…” He sighs again and gently untangles his hands, sitting back down. “I just wish you’d told us and we didn’t find out...like that.”
“We didn’t want you to find out like that, either,” Brian says, opening his arm as Freddie rejoins him on the sofa and putting it round him. “We didn’t think you’d be back that soon.”
Deaky winces. “I forgot my ID,” he explains. “I was just coming up to get it.”
“Lucky he did or you probably would never have told us,” Roger puts in.
“That’s not fair, Rog!” Freddie interjects. “We were going to. Soon.”
“Five months later!” Roger fires back.
“Roger,” Deaky cuts in, nudging him with his shoulder. “There’s no use being mad about it. I think it’s great, you guys,” he adds, looking over at Brian and Freddie. “I mean, I wish I hadn’t seen...all that.” He gestures vaguely toward the upstairs.
“Same,” Roger interrupts darkly.
“But I’m happy for you,” Deaky continues. “You’ve both been way happier lately, I’m guessing that’s why.”
Freddie grins, leaning his head on Brian’s shoulder. “I am happy,” he confesses giddily. “Oh, please don’t be mad, Rog! I’ll buy you a drink when we next go out.”
Roger sighs. “You can buy me a few,” he says. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“We should have told you,” Brian says placatingly. “Way sooner.”
“God, I wondered why neither of you wanted to come out tonight,” Roger says, shaking his head.
Deaky snorts. “When we got back and saw you weren’t in here he thought you’d gone to that new disco without us.”
“We wouldn’t have done that,” Freddie assures him.
“No, just shagging away in Deaky’s room instead!” Roger says, only mildly joking.
“It’s my room too.”
John makes a face. “Hang on, hang on,” he says quickly. “I’m happy for you guys, I really am, but can we make up a rule? No shagging while Roger and I are still here.”
Brian looks offended. “Obviously not,” he says. “We’ve been waiting weeks each time for you guys to go off somewhere! I thought you’d never leave for the cinema tonight.”
John snorts, amused. “Sorry, we didn’t realise we were cock-blocking you.”
Roger smirks. “If I had I’d have taken way longer,” he says, and Brian believes him because he can be an asshole like that when he wants to be.
“Well,” Brian says, glancing at Freddie, “we were talking anyway and we were thinking...what would you guys think about switching up rooms?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Like...so you guys could share?” Roger asks shrewdly.
Roger sighs, already defeated. “That rule still stands!” he says quickly.
“Oh yeah,” Freddie agrees at once.
“Of course,” Brian assures, not very convincingly.
“Oh God,” Deaky groans, dropping his head into his hands. “They’re going to be unbearable, aren’t they?”
Freddie and Brian glance at each other, smiling ridiculously, and don’t bother to deny it.