Save Me (Roger Taylor FanFiction) [Wattys 2019]

11: Life is Good

*13th December 1969*

ROGER TAYLOR CAME BACK to my house that night and I have never felt so nervous in my life. I had no idea what had possessed me to ask him to come back with me.

I brought him into the living room and instructed him to make himself comfortable on my couch while I went to get something for him to drink. I wasn't a drinker but I always had a bottle of wine and a few bottles of beer just in case Freddie came round.

I brought him the beer and I sat with a glass of water. It was moments like this where I felt awkward about not drinking; I always felt like it would just be so much easier if I drank with my guest.

"Thanks, love," he said as I handed him the cold bottle. "This is a nice house," he complimented and I thanked him.

We sat in a rather awkward silence for a moment or two which was painful for me. I hated awkward silences and I always beat myself up for my inability to get a conversation going.

"You said you wanted to be a photographer, didn't you?" He asked, taking a sip from his beer and thankfully filling the silence.

"Yeah, it's always been a passion of mine,"

"How did you get into it?"

"Well, my Grandad used to take pictures all the time, he'd always have his walking stick and his camera with him everywhere he went. He'd take pictures of my Gran constantly, she hated it but he always said that it's a crime not to capture the beautiful things in life,"

I could never ever forget that my Grandad said that; he was absolutely right. Roger smiled and it made me wish I had my camera down here.

"Once when we were in that place, Aviemore; do you remember me telling you about it?" He nodded and smiled at me. "Well, there was this rose that I saw when we went for a walk and I begged him to take a picture of it but he insisted I did it, so I did. I took this picture of this amazing red rose and I just felt good about myself. I'd captured this piece of nature and made it into the art that it should be,"

"That's poetic," he told me and I searched through his comment for any signs of him making fun of me but there wasn't.

"I just think that if there's something beautiful in front of you, you should take a picture so you'll never forget it."

"You should take a picture of yourself then," he told me, reaching over and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. I blushed at his slightly cheesy comment.

"You're a smooth talker," I scoffed at him to hide my blush.

"Maybe so, but it's true. A guy would be crazy not to fancy you," Roger's voice was raspy and calming, it was lowered and quiet. The tension in the room was thick.

"I don't buy it, you've had too much to drink," I giggled, still feeling like he was winding me up. I was not ugly but I was definitely not the kind of stunning girl that could grab the attention of every guy in the room. Nothing he could say was going to make me think that.

"You are so beautiful," he repeated and reached his hand up again to touch my hair. I didn't move at all and this time, I wasn't sure my voice would be strong enough to deny it a second time.

Suddenly his lips were on mine sending shockwaves all through my body. My eyelids immediately closed and I kissed him in return. His hand had worked its way towards the back of my head and his other hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him on the couch.

Our lips moulded together perfectly, I had never felt this good before. I couldn't fight the smile that formed on my lips against his as I tangled my hands in his soft, blonde hair. This was unlike any kiss I'd ever had before, it felt right.

Roger's hands moved down to my hips where he then proceeded to push me backwards, gently, so that my back was flat against the couch. He crawled on top of me and reconnected our lips.

It was only when I felt his cold hands on the bare skin of my stomach and my back that I realised this was going too far. I placed my hand on his chest and gently pushed him back and away from me. His hands slipped back out from underneath my shirt and he looked rejected.

"Wait," I panted, looking up at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked me, fiddling with a piece of my hair.

"I'm not ready to go that far," I said, sheepishly. I felt so young and immature after telling him that but the thing was I also didn't want him to be drunk for the first time we slept together.

"That's okay, we don't have to," he told me, stroking my cheek.

"Are you sure?" I found myself asking.

"Of course I'm sure, I'd never make you do something you don't want to, love," he kissed my forehead gently and we sat up.

We talked for hours and hours after that which made me happy. I was scared he'd disappear home after my childish statement and that I'd never see or hear from him again.

But he stayed.

It was late and my eyes were starting to droop. At some point, they closed fully and I fell asleep with my head resting on the shoulder of my rock and roll drummer.

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I woke up the next morning with my head buried in Roger's softly rising chest. His arm was around me and we were lying back on the couch.

The winter sun was streaming through the window and I could hear the buzz of the London street I lived on. I wrapped my arm around Roger's waist, closed my eyes and snuggled into his warmth.

What did I do to deserve Roger? I lifted my head to look at his peaceful face. His blonde hair was perfectly falling around his pretty face. His big eyes were closed and his mouth was open just slightly. He looked so cute.

I knew I needed to get up for work but I really didn't want to move from Roger's warm embrace. I tried to move but Roger's arm just tightened around me so I sighed and relaxed. I guess I was just going to have to lie here for a while.

Life was good.

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A/N

There is it! Their first little chat. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please keep an eye out for any of my new chapters.

We're nearly all caught up to the events of the 70s so there will only be a few more chapters set in 69 so please make sure you're paying attention to the dates!

As always, keep reading!

Xx