BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

48 - roger taylor

A cute imagine for the lovely fuckmequeen ! This is a baby fic, but I tried to keep things mostly gender neutral anyways.
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Countless sleepless nights and hundreds of dollars spent on baby clothes, cribs, and rockers later, you and Roger were still getting used to the idea of being new parents. The baby – your baby – was just a newborn yet. Small and pink, you'd keep her nestled up tight in countless blankets, both of you fraught with worry over her every inconvenience.

Roger liked to play the role of the calm and relaxed dad, but whenever your daughter was concerned, he was practically a mother hen. You thought it was rather endearing watching Roger rock her back to sleep in the middle of the night, his blond hair in tangles and eyes red from exhaustion. Not once had he murmured a complaint, insisting that you would be the one to get your rest.

It was very thoughtful until Roger wore himself ragged trying to live between the battling worlds of Queen and you. If he wasn't at the studio recording, Roger was sitting at your kitchen table helping you feed Gemma or singing her to sleep when you grew too weary to keep yourself awake.

You began to grow worried for Roger. He was so dedicated about you and Gemma that he was hardly concerned about his own wellbeing. As the months passed and Roger became wispy thin and overworked, even his own bandmates started ringing you to see what was wrong.

Brian had called you this afternoon, just as Roger had arrived home. He was changing Gemma in the nursery, far enough out of earshot so that you could discuss him in private. You knew that if Roger got wind of any of this, he'd be beyond angry that his friends and his lover, most of all, were going behind his back and talking about him.

It was enough to make you feel guilty as you picked up the phone on the second ring, already knowing who was on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Y/N, it's Brian," came the voice on the other end. "I hate to bother you with the baby and all..."

"Roger has her right now, don't worry," you said easily, even if you were nervously peeking around the corner to see if Roger had gotten done upstairs yet. "What's the matter?"

There was a long pause. Like Brian was trying to come up with the right words to say.

"Lately, Rog has been... well, he's too tired to keep time or contribute anything in the studio. It's like he's on edge." There was a crackle, like Brian was moving about restlessly. "On edge about the baby and on edge about you –"

"On edge about me?" You asked increduously, about to be offended.

Brian was quick to correct himself. "That's the wrong word. I meant that he's worried about you, Y/N. I've never seen him so distraught about having to leave home before."

Just as your face had flushed with anger, it steadily drained out of your body. Out of the corner of your eye, Roger came in the sitting room with Gemma in his arms. His eyes were alight with joy, one hand cupping the back of her small head as she rested in his arms. He grinned at you and pointed at Gemma proudly, wanting you to see his progress in keeping her quiet. Roger was careful not to make too much noise, mindful of the baby and the fact that you were on the phone.

You realized that Brian was still awaiting your response, and it had been several minutes since he had last spoken. Unsure of what was safe to say while Roger was still in the room, you tried to be as vague as you possibly could, hoping that Roger couldn't hear Brian's voice through the phone.