That boy ~ Roger Taylor fanfic

The first dinner

I guide my brand new band through the London busy Friday night streets and I finally find the restaurant. It's kind of chic and well frequented so there are no "dangerous" people. The place is crowded but we manage finding a 4-people table. We sit down and a waiter immediately comes:

"Can I start with drinks?", she asks politely.

"I'll have scotch" says Roger instantly.

"I'll have a beer please", asks Brian, less rudely than Roger, "A blond one"

"Two beers", adds Fred.

"It will be a Cosmopolitan for me...", I say, reddening.

"Oh, we're sophisticated...", Roger smirks at me, with a smile on the side of the mouth.

The waiter repeats our order and walks away. Freddie starts talking:

"So, what was your name again?"

"Y/N", I respond

"Are you Italian?", insinuates Brian, that I suppose is the "smart" one, "Your name really sounds foreign"

"In fact I am", I exclaim proudly

"How exotic...", whispers Roger under his breath.

I give him a smiling, questioning look between my eyes lovely squeezed.

"So you eat pizza, pasta and mozzarella everyday?", laughs Freddie while doing the really cliché hand shake (this one: 🤌).

"Oh gosh, don't even begin doing that, it's SO ANNOYING", I say while widening my eyes and looking at Fred, tilting my head towards him.

"Here are your drinks", says the waiter that had just arrived.

I grab my triangular glass and take a sip, observing my reddish drink. As a kid, I observe the faces of the members of my new band through the thin ice of the glass. Brian's face becomes fat and his slim nose becomes a potato. Fred's hair becomes pinkish. And Roger's eyes are... Roger is looking straight at me, with his wonderful eyes. Immediately I stop staring at him and look at the painting behind him instead.

"I think that's impressionist, is it?", I ask out loud.

"In fact, it is darling", responds calmly Freddie, "By the way, do you even know our names?"

I nod. I indicate the curly man and tell his name and the instrument he plays. He smiles with closed lips.

I indicate the man who just asked me the question and declare "Freddie".

At last, I look at the sublime blue eyed man and say "Roger", letting my Italian pronunciation of "R" slip off my lips.

I feel light goosebumps on my arms and cheeks. This mispronunciation makes Roger redden. He licks his bottom lip looking down at his feet under the table, then looks back up, straight into my E/C (Eye Colour) eyes, deep into them.

I can see his arms' hair lift up and the pupils in his ocean stare widen.

"I love your accent", Roger murmurs, stuttering a bit, "I am the drummer of the band"

Freddie abruptly leans his head towards Roger, broadening his eyelids revealing his hazel eyes while this cherry red boy was tightening his lips together and red blushes are appearing his cheeks.

"A gift from the house", says the waiter, putting on the table some tiny tuna sandwiches.

I immediately take one and slide it into my mouth. It has been days I didn't eat anything salty and as my tongue touches the bread, stars light in my orbs. The taste is so creamy and saline I am projected in the ocean, swimming with fish.

"Dish ish shooo good", is say mouthful of the sandwich.

"I'm going to get some fresh air outside." says Roger, with his head visibly full of thoughts.

He goes out of the restaurant with a cigarette and a lighter. I instantly feel the absence of his presence.

"Chill Y/N, you met him literally 1 hour ago.", Fred exclaimed, "I know he's hot but CALM DOWN."

"What?", I scream. Probably all the restaurant hears me.

"Y/N, it's OBVIOUS.", rectifies Brian, "You like him, it's not so well hidden"

"No guys. Gosh, I don't even LIKE him", I say, smashing my hand on the table, making my beverage fall all over me.

I bust my hand on my forehead. I'm so freakin' clumsy. I see Roger come back in the local with an irritated emotion on his face and a still lighten cigarette in his right hand. He has a small bruise on his right cheek.

"I burned myself with this fu***ng cigarette. I was watching a beautiful car pass by and accidentally put this s**t on my face."

He's angry but as he sits down and takes a little shot of his scotch, he suddenly becomes all bubbly with joy.

"He always gets drunk in a second", whispers Brian in my ear.

"Hey sweetie, can I take you home?", screams drunkenly Roger to me.

I observe his eyes as they light up with a thousand fires while looking at me. He clearly is drunk.

"Rog, let's get out.", Brian orders with an authority that I never thought anyone could have.

"Yeah, let's go home", I say with a maternal instinct.

I grab his soft hand and take his cigarette away from it. Hesitant, I pull a breath out of the cigarette and then I expire it out.

Fred calls a taxi and we 3 pull Roger in the car. The cabbie stays silent all the way to my house. We all climb down the cab, pay the driver and enter my minuscule habitation. Brian and Fred put Roger on the couch as a take some glasses of water. After 10 minutes, Roger calms down and falls asleep.

It's nearly 1 am and Bri and Fred tell me they really want to go home and that we would all meet tomorrow, 1 pm at the Stars Crushing club, as today.

"Good night!", I wave them goodbye as they climb on a taxi.

I close the door and climb the metallic ladder leading to my bed. I jump on it and I start wondering what I will dream that night.

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I hope you found my Pink Floyd easter egg in this part!