BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

25 - roger waters ²

For the kind vintagerbaby . I know it doesn't start out as very fluffy, but things always get worse before they get better!
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The salty sea air was the first thing that hit you upon stepping foot on the sand. It was something you had missed in the years that you spent cooped up in London – the warm sun on your face and the sound of the waves crashing off in the distance.

It had taken a lot of persuasion, but you had managed to convince Roger to go on a day trip to Brighton. He wasn't very happy about the matter, but you had the feeling he went just to avoid fighting with you.

He had been gone for the past few months, touring with the Floyd, and you had missed him terribly. You knew Roger missed you too. He didn't like to show it very often, always being closed off behind emotional walls. However, there was no denying how tight Roger held you when you two were first reunited, his wiry arms hoisting you a few inches off the ground.

That first night, Roger hadn't strayed very far from your side. Not that you minded, of course. It wasn't often that Roger sat with you in the kitchen, reaching for things on the top shelves for you and helping set the table.

You sensed he felt a bit guilty about being away, so he'd been treating you particularly well. Hence the impromptu trip to Brighton. Being guilty didn't change Roger's attitude in the slightest, so you had your work cut out for you if you wanted Roger to enjoy the beach.

Currently, Roger was lagging a few steps behind you, hissing every now and again at the feeling of the hot sand on his bare feet. He had been the one stuck with carrying your beach chairs and umbrella, being the tallest and strongest of the both of you.

Now, you were regretting the decision. Each time Roger hopped to escape the burning heat of the sand, he accidentally swung the umbrella in your direction.

"Don't know why you wanted to go to Brighton," Roger huffed. "Of all the bloody places."

"I don't remember ever going to the beach with you, Rog," you said. "I thought you'd enjoy the break."

There was some biting, cruel thing on Roger's tongue, but you refused to listen hard enough to hear it. You had become adept at dodging the verbal bullets Roger set loose after years spent crying over them.

Half of the time Roger didn't mean it and scarcely remembered saying anything harsh. It was his way of keeping himself protected. Now that you were in a very public setting, you doubted Roger would be letting his guard down anytime soon.

"Come on, there's a good spot right here!" You pointed towards a relatively empty spot nearest to the shore.

Roger went without protest, dumping the heavy load onto the sand with a groan. "Will you at least help? Then I'll let you free to go roam somewhere."

You agreed, purposefully not reading too far into Roger's words. Dropping your own bag of supplies, you opened the folding chairs and packing the sand around the umbrella while Roger straightened it. You two had always made a good team, no matter how poor your communication skills were.

As soon as everything was set up, Roger plopped down on one of the chairs. Your face fell, though you knew what Roger was going to do from the beginning. At least you got to visit the beach again, you kept telling yourself. That should be enough.