A Kind of Magic

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"Oh, Mal-" Brian looked utterly confused upon entering Roger's room the next morning to find his sister there. "What are you doing in here?"

"Yikes, would it kill you to knock, Brian?" Roger asked.

Gosh, if he had come in just a few minutes ago he would have found a very different scene...

"Uh, my room's freezing, so I borrowed a blanket from Rog to sleep with," was the best excuse she could muster there in that moment. It was shit.

"Oh, okay." Luckily, bad as it was, Brian seemed to buy it. "Would you rather we just switch rooms?"

"No, that's fine, I don't really mind the cold. Just got to bundle up a bit." Or cuddle. "Thanks though, Big Bro. Always looking out for me."

"You bet, always. All right. Well, let me know if you change your mind."

"Thanks, I will."

With that, Brian left.

Mal immediately smacked a hand over her mouth to try and stifle a snort of laughter. Roger was laughing too. She collapsed back onto the bed in a laughing heap.

Mal had quickly decided that being in love was like a kind of magic - that sounded extremely sappy and romantic, but it perfectly fit how she felt, something she hadn't fully realized until she was experiencing it herself, being in love.

Sneaking across the hall to each others' rooms in the night while the other boys slept became a nightly occurrence - well, it was mostly her sneaking to Roger's room. He had come to sleep in her room one night early on, but had quickly decided it was too cold - "Christ, you're right, it's bloody freezing in here!" That, and Brian was right next door so they didn't want to risk him finding out, as he very nearly did a few times.

And it just sort of happened that they continued to keep it a secret, just between them. It was honestly kind of fun sneaking around behind the others' backs and stealing kisses and sweet, loving words here and there.

They definitely had a few close calls though.

Knock. Knock. Knock. "Rog? You awake? We're going to start working in half an hour," Brian's voice called from the other side of Roger's closed door one following morning. Luckily, this time he didn't just barge in like before.

If he had, he would have seen his sister and best friend curled up together in Roger's bed, mostly naked.

Roger looked at his watch sitting on the bedside table. "Oh, shit-"

They had overslept.

"Rog?"

"Yeah, I'm up, Brian!" Roger called.

"Yes, he's awake," Brian called, likely to alert Freddie and John downstairs. "I can hear him cursing." Then he said, "I think Mal's still asleep too, I haven't seen her yet this morning-"

"Uh, no - I think she's already up! I thought I heard her earlier-" Roger desperately tried to cover for her. She gave him a thumbs-up but couldn't very well announce her presence to her brother from inside Roger's room.

"Okay, we made breakfast, so come downstairs when you're ready." Brian's footsteps retreated downstairs.

Only then did Mal also let a string of curses loose. "Shit - shit!"

They both cursed their way out of bed and into some clothes, scrambling about madly, tossing items of clothing that belonged to each other back to one another that somehow had managed to make it on the other side of the room.

"Hey," Roger said, stopping them mid-scramble. "I love you, you brilliant artist, you."

She grinned back, jeans half-on. "And I love you, my Little Drummer Boy."

They shared a quick kiss before Roger left the room first, signalling to her that the coast was indeed clear.

After he left Mal waited a couple of minutes before heading downstairs as well. She even went and opened her own bedroom door just to play along.

With the boys in the kitchen, she grabbed a jacket and snuck out the back of the farmhouse, going around to enter through the front kitchen door. "Morning boys!"

"Morning Mal. Were you out?" Brian asked her.

"Yeah, I went for a walk. Thought some fresh air first thing in the morning would do me some good, especially with all the work we're about to do."

"Nice. Did you eat already?"

"No, I haven't." She went over to the counter. Rog gave her a look of, nicely done.

"Whew, all this album-making is exhausting work," he said, faking a yawn.

"It is, but fulfilling work," said Freddie with a grin, always so full of energy.

"So is love-making..." A hot whisper sent shivers down her spine when Roger whispered to her as she readied something to eat. She smacked his arm, sending him a look of, be careful! We just had a close call! A very close call... Luckily none of the others seemed to notice. Luckily and thankfully.

They were recording the guitar solo of Bohemian Rhapsody today. Mal had a smile on her face the whole time listening to her brother strumming his heart out.

"That was pretty damn good," Freddie said when the take was done. "I think it's beautiful. And it's almost perfect."

"Almost?" came Brian's voice through the mic.

"You know, play it like you wrote it."

"Well I did, I wrote that part," Brian said, giving a little point to his guitar.

Freddie chuckled. "Go on, give it more rock n' roll!"

"Well I'm always up for that, Fred."

"Yes, put your body into it, like I do."

"Okay," Brian chuckled. "Put my body into it-" He did an adorable little dance, arms raised and shaking his hips, guitar still around his neck and his normally voluminous hair squished beneath the headphones. "I've got it."

"Not like that!" Freddie laughed.

"No, I've got it," Brian assured him. "Bit more soul."

"Yes, you have. Bit more heart." Freddie paused as if for dramatic affect. "And then there's the operatic section..."

"The operatic section?"

Freddie was now beaming, and did his signature single over-head clap. "You're going to love it!"

"I love it, I love it, I LOVE IT!" Brian assured him.

"What have we got to lose?"

Brian had the biggest smile on his face. "Nothing!"

"If you say so."

"All right, let's go!"









(Thank you so much for reading (and the 500+ reads!) and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) Also, although I'm still working on this story, I'm already planning a separate Smile-era story with other OCs, so stay tuned!)

Real Life or Fantasy? - 'Bohemian Rhapsody', Roger TaylorWhere stories live. Discover now