speechless | roger taylor

twenty three

It was the fifth of August when Elise had finally been able to talk the boys into letting her cook a dinner for them and have a small party at the farm. Sure, she was still upset that Roger hadn't told her about his birthday, but with what she had planned, she'd get over it. As long as he was happy, she told herself, she'd be okay.

On top of her trying to plan the perfect birthday for Roger, she was trying to think of the perfect present to get John for his birthday. It was in two weeks, after all. Each year since they met, they'd get each other something as sentimental as possible—he'd given her a photo album for her birthday, and she needed to figure out something that'd make him cry as much as she did when she went through it with Roger.

That would have to wait until later, she told herself. She had to get ready. Her hands came up to her necklace, fiddling with it anxiously as she took the black bag out of her closet, hoping that the dress underneath wasn't as wrinkled as she thought it would be. 

She'd bought the dress a few days ago after she made the plans for Roger's birthday. She had snuck out while the boys were recording to get it and if she was being honest, she was quite scared to wear it. Sure, her confidence had surged since she got with him—how couldn't it? He was constantly telling her how brilliant she was, how beautiful she was, and how lucky he was to have her. But, she was still self-confident.

Elise made sure that John took the boys out to get fancy dress clothes while she was back at the farm, dolling herself up and making everything perfect. She wasn't very good at cooking, so they'd have to deal with the only thing she really knew how to make; pasta. Hopefully, it'd taste good with the expensive bottles of wine she got. 

She slid the jumper she'd stolen from Roger a few days ago over her head and dropped it on top of her suitcase before sliding her fuzzy pyjama bottoms off of her freshly shaven legs. The cold air surrounded her and she let out an involuntary shiver, goosebumps forming on her soft skin. She unzipped the black bag that contained her dress and smiled at the shiny gold sequins as the light hit them.

She turned around for a moment, looking at herself in the small full-length mirror that was hung on the inside of the door of the closet. She began to pick and tear at the things she hated about herself, like the way her pink stretch marks decorated her stomach or the way her boobs were slightly lopsided in a way only she'd notice. But, for the first time in a while, she stopped to think of the things Roger loved about her.

She thought of the way his fingers trailed along her stretchmarks before he pressed a line of kisses to each of them, constantly making her squirm. She thought of how he'd always grasp at her thighs and tell her 'how fucking sexy' they were. Her boobs were one of his favourite parts of her, physically. He'd always leave the biggest hickeys on them when they had sex, and when they were cuddling and he was the little spoon, he'd rest his head on them. He always said that they made the perfect pillows.

A smile formed on her face as she trailed her fingers over the waistband of her light blue, lacy knickers. She felt comfortable in her skin. Moving towards the small drawer filled with her and Roger's clothes, she pulled out the matching light blue bra and quickly clasped it on. She moved back to the little number she'd picked out and pulled it from its bag, her eyes lighting up. 

She looked at the time as she stepped through the dress, pulling it up over her body. She needed to hurry if she wanted everything to be perfect before the boys came back.

-

"You look brilliant," John told his best friend as he stepped into the kitchen. He made sure that Freddie kept Brian and Roger in the small lounge, knowing how much this meant to her. Roger was somewhat clueless as to what was going on, but he didn't mind. He knew it had to have something to do with Elise as he was told to wear his black velvet trousers and a slightly unbuttoned, white top. 

He felt like Brian.

"Thank you," Elise giggled, smoothing the front of her gold dress with her hands. "You do, as well."

He smiled, looking down at the ground. He was dressed in a simple outfit; black flares and a brown button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. She wished she had her camera on her—Veronica would've loved the sight of him dressed so fancy.

"Is everything ready? Do you need any help?" he asked, looking around the kitchen. Roger was lucky to have someone like her. She had five plates of cheesy pasta around the table along with five glasses of red wine, and a simple, honeydew melon candle in the middle of the table. She'd messed with the lighting a bit so that it looked dimmer than usual.

"Is Paul still stuck in his room?" she asked, her voice faltering. "I really don't want him to ruin this, Deaks."

"He is. He won't be getting out any time soon," he told her. "It'll be alright, okay?" 

"What if my food's bad? What if he doesn't think I'm beautiful?" Elise's insecurities flooded over her like a tsunami, causing small tears to prick at her eyes. She quickly batted them away, not wanting to ruin the faint amount of makeup she'd put on.

"Ellie," he cooed, pulling her into his arms. "He's going to love it, you needn't worry about that. You should hear the way he talks about you—it's like you hung the damn moon."

"How do you know I didn't?" she giggled, looking up at him with a smile on her face. "Thank you, Deaky."

"'Course, love. Now, shall I bring them in? Please don't eye-fuck Roger, though. I know you two go at it like bunnies, but I don't need to see you two practically undressing each other right in front of me. Wait until you're in your room, please."

"Shut up," Elise laughed. "Go get the boys, I'll light the candle."

John snorted as he turned on his heel, making his way back into the lounge. Roger was pacing the room as Brian and Freddie were engaged in a conversation about something, but he wasn't quite sure what. 

"It's time, get your arses up and into the kitchen," he smiled, brushing some of his hair out of his face. Roger turned around and looked at him, eyes wide.

Freddie and Brian cut their conversation short, each standing up and patting the small wrinkles from their clothes. Freddie looked as dashing as ever with white flares on and a black coat with gold decorations on it over top of a basic, dark grey tank, while Brian wore practically the same thing as Roger and John, but rather than a brown or white top, he wore a light blue one.

"Shall we?" John asked, smiling warmly at Roger. He was nervous, though he didn't quite know why. Roger Taylor was not one to be nervous—he was one to make others nervous. There was just something about Elise that brought out a different side to him.

"Okay."

-

[ it's a bit short, sorry! hope you're all enjoying the story, and thank you for 4k! ]