✨ Oneshots ✨

Misery - Maylor (platonic, sick)

original title: The World Is Treating Me Bad. I thought it was too melodramatic, lol.
(see if you can find all the references!)
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Nineteen eighty-two, London.

Roger wasn't usually one to get a cold. Especially before a show, but much to his dismay, he'd managed to get himself one.

He was resting at his house, or rather, grumbling about feeling bad. Dominique and Felix were out to let him get some sleep or whatever.
-

Plus, Roger definitely did not need a two-year-old climbing on him and giving him a headache.

Luckily, there wasn't any performance tonight. On the unlucky side though, the drummer felt awful.

"Ugh, this is rubbish. I can barely talk." Roger thinks, putting a hand on his forehead in stress. Also to check for a fever.

Brian was just going to check on their other band mate, little did he know exactly that the blond man was under the weather.
-

"Roger? Can I come in?" Brian knocks and asks, struggling to hear the much-quieter-somehow-more-raspy voice.

"Yeah, come in." Roger calls, his vocal cords straining. When the guitarist doesn't open the door, the percussionist goes over and invites him in.

"Sorry," Roger clears his throat, then grumbles a little after discovering that it hurt, too.

"You all right there?" The tall man inquires, frowning in sympathy.
-

Roger shrugs his shoulders, looking a little concerned that someone was visiting him -- now he'd know there was something wrong.

"Yeah, um.. It's nothing, really. I'm fine." He dismisses, coughing into his elbow.

"Rog, there's no use in faking it. You're ill, I can hear it. And see it." Brian replies, noticing how pale the musician looked.

The blue eyed man sighs heavily, now having a hard time staying on his feet. The hazel eyed man took note of that too, gently leading his friend to the sofa to sit down.
-

"But Bri, I don't need you to-" he sneezes in the middle of the sentence, "--be here and take care of me."

"Well, I want to. We're like brothers, yeah? Fred and Deaky are also part of our family."

The sick man thought it over for a minute, before deciding to allow the company.

"Okay, but you can't tell Freddie and John. You know how Fred gets about people having colds."

Brian and Roger look at each other for a second, and briefly, the latter worries he would tell.
-

"I won't, I know he gets all motherly. How about some soup?" Brian offers politely.

"That will do quite nicely." The almost drowsy man answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It'll do good for your throat too. You're losing your voice, it sounds like."

Roger wanted to argue, "no, I'm not!" , but that would only prove the guitarist's point.
-

A few minutes later, Brian has successfully made some nice, also vegetarian soup.

Roger gets up to see how the cooking is going and to get himself a bowl of the warm meal, but Brian catches him and lightly scolds him.

"No, no, no. You're supposed to be resting. Go sit somewhere, I'll bring you a bowl!"

Roger playfully rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out, but Brian gives him a serious look; insisting to follow his instructions. That's enough to get the shorter man back to sitting down, but at the table.
-

"Thanks, it looks great." The man that felt on fire says quietly.

"It's no problem, you'll have plenty of leftovers to eat." Brian says with a smile.

The two rockstars sit quietly and enjoy it, and the warm meal is definitely helping Roger's sore throat.

After both of them finish, the unwell man gets up and nearly puts the bowl in his dirty laundry.

"You don't want soup in the laundry bag, do you? The sink is over here." Brian gently reminds with a laugh.
--

Ten minutes later, the duo are talking on the sofa. Roger's voice was ever so gentle and Brian's was barely any more than his.

Brian slowly creeps his hand up to Roger's forehead, but the latter catches on and childishly pushes the long fingers away from his face, squirming as well.

"Rog, I'm just making sure your temperature is fine. Please don't fight it."

"I'm fine, honestly. No need for that."

"You're coming down with a fever."

Roger pouts, his bottom lip sticking out like a child. It didn't occur to him that if he cooperated more, then it wouldn't be as embarrassing and annoying.

But, being the stubborn rockstar he is, of course he just kept trying to pretend like nothing was wrong.
-

"You should take some medicine. It will bring this fever down."

"No, I think it will go away on its own. Just needs time." Roger answers and shivers.

"Well then, you'll have to be taken care of some more."

This made the grown child roll his eyes again and shake his head in disagreement.

-
"You're not my mum, Bri. I can very well take care of myself alone." But secretly, Roger enjoyed having someone to talk to.

"And I thought you wouldn't act like Fred." He whines.

"I said I wouldn't tell Fred. I can ring him and ask him over, if you want-"

"No, no. I guess you're fine. Just tell me what I need to do."

--

A few minutes later, Brian had Roger change into lighter clothes and made sure he was drinking lots of juice and water.

Brian also managed to get the man to take some fever reducing medicine. Then, he finally said he had to leave.

"Wait, Bri!"

"What? I thought you didn't want me here?"

"Actually, I do. It's so quiet here and I'm in misery. It's gonna be a drag, alone."

--

Brian sat across from Roger on the sofa, talking and just keeping him company.

The guitar player at some point decided to put music on when they weren't talking, picking up Abbey Road and setting it on the record player.  He knew Roger really liked that album.

A few songs played before Brian saw that his band mate was getting really sleepy, so he picked up the arm and set it on the tenth track, "Sun King."

The lazy river feeling of the song immediately filled the silence in the room, the gentle singing making the drummer feel even more tired. For once, he could sit still peacefully.

By the time the Beatles were singing in Italian, Roger was actually asleep.

-
Brian made sure to put that song on one more time, then carefully took the vinyl record off and put it back. After, he turned off any lights and put a light blanket on Roger, then quietly left the house and went back to his own.
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Word count : 1,100