A Winter's Tale [Brian/Roger] [Freddie/John]

A Winter's Tale

'Brian, wake up! It's snowing!'

'Hm...' Brian yawned tiredly as he felt someone tugging on the sleeve of his night shirt. He reached his hand out and opened his eyes wearily, expecting to be able to thread his fingers through the messy blond hair, to look into those light blue eyes, but there was no sign of his boyfriend. He frowned lightly. As he let his slender fingers slide over the empty right side of the double bed, over the crumpled bed sheets, he heard someone giggle behind him. Ah. So sweet, so schoolgirlish, so innocent – so Roger.

'I'm here, baby. Come on, get up, it's snowing!' the younger boy said cheerfully, violently shaking his boyfriend's shoulder. Brian uttered another unintelligible sound and turned around to look at the alarm clock – only to find out that it was 5:43 AM. He sighed. Was it really necessary for Roger to wake him up at this time? But the guitarist didn't get the time to think about that when Roger walked over to the window. He tore the dark blue curtains open in one quick movement, enabling the faint morning sun to enlighten their bedroom.

'Ugh, Roger! Close those damned curtains, will you?!' Brian groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. He was not at all a morning person – unlike Roger, who seemed to be at his top in the morning ánd in the evening. Roger's never-ending energy was driving Brian out of his mind at times, but he was positive he also couldn't live without it. He loved the way Roger lit up every room he entered, how his million dollar smile could brighten up your worst day, and he just adored his contagious excitement about the smallest things. But right now, at a quarter to six in the morning, he wished he could tie his lover down to the bed and tape his mouth shut.

'Do you want me to spell it out for you? It's s-n-o-w-i-n-g,' Roger emphasised, smiling at Brian as the guitarist stared at him with weary eyes.

'Yeah, and it's still night time. Do I need to spell that out for you? N-i-g-h-t t-i-m-e, ' Brian said as he sat upright, but Roger didn't even seem to hear that.

'We need to go outside!' The drummer then turned around again and stepped on the windowsill, stretching on his tiptoes, leaning over in order to reach the latch of the window.

'Do you even know how late it is? A quarter to bloody six...' Brian rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his pile of uncontrollable curls when he suddenly saw what Roger was trying to achieve. 'Hey, leave that! If you dare to open that window I swear to all that is holy- Roger Meddows Taylor!' Brian shouted when Roger indeed opened the window, allowing the storm of white crystals to scatter around in the room. Roger watched mesmerised with a smile on his face, studying the pieces of frozen water that landed on his spread out hands, not even feeling the cold he brought into their bedroom. But Brian did – he growled as he threw the white duvets aside, striding over to Roger.

'Rog, come here, I'm exhausted and I want to go back to-'

'Look, it's beautiful,' Roger whispered, looking dreamily out of the snow-covered window before inspecting the snow on his fingertips at close quarters again. Brian sighed as he studied the concentrated face of the blond angel, and suddenly a wave of tenderness washed over him.

'You're making it impossible for me to stay mad at you when you're like this, you know that?' Brian said quietly. The corners of his lips twitched upwards when Roger looked down at him, innocently blinking the snowflakes out of his golden eyelashes.

'Like what?' he asked.

'So innocent. Now come on, back to bed,' Brian let out a yawn as he watched how Roger closed the window, jumped off the windowsill and made his way to their wardrobe.

'And what do you think you're doing?' the curly boy said after he had closed the curtains, placing his hands on his hips.

'Where's my sweater? We need to go outside,' his boyfriend answered absent-mindedly, throwing random pieces of clothes onto the floor. But Brian was absolutely not in the mood to observe the miracles of nature at six o'clock – he threw his arms around Roger's legs and simply swung him over his shoulder, ignoring his whines and 'put-me-downs' as he walked back to their bed.