Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 43

With Brian's inhibitions lowered, it was harder for him to remember why he had arrived at Freddie's house in the first place. The party of two had moved to the living room - migrated from the dining room and reduced from three when Mary decided to call it an early night and took the bottle of wine with her, kissing her fiancé on the head and disappearing upstairs—and the dark-haired man was showing the professor a photo album he'd been keeping that showcased his friendship with Roger.

"You can't even tell he's a man in most of these," Brian mentioned as he lazily flipped from one page to the next, skimming over the pages - each containing six Polaroids of Roger dressed up in that memorable blonde wig - and taking a sip of the vodka and tonic Freddie had prepared for him.

"They're from our fashion show I was telling you about," he explained, smirking, "Don't tell him I told you this because it's his biggest secret—aside from his crush on you, of course—but that wig he always wears was originally mine. He just liked how he looked in it so much that I never asked for it back."

An inebriated giggle slipped past the professor's lips as he flipped to the next set of pictures, too drunk to pick up on the insight the dark-haired man had provided. Whether or not the remark was intentional would remain a mystery to both men, but the comment was overlooked by Brian saying, "That's so Roger of him."

Freddie stared at Brian and pulled his bottom lip underneath his big front teeth, his eyes flicking between the professor and the book as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. It was clear as day to him that his curly-haired houseguest had become infatuated with the blonde, and god knew that Freddie had been waiting forever for the day that Roger came to his senses and left the leech that's been sucking the life out of him for far too long. It was just a matter of time, at this point. Everything else was set in place; ready to go. All it needed was a spark.

Brian seemed like a nice enough guy, and he was obviously much better off than Tim was with an actual job that didn't rely on Roger selling his body to skeevy pervs looking to get their jollies while their wives were at work or out of the house with their friends. However, he was hesitant. He doubted every decision he made, and constantly worried about what's wrong and what's right, and for that reason, Freddie wondered if he'd actually come through; if he'd take the chance when it presented itself and not run away when things got scary. After all, it wasn't like their lifestyles were particularly accepted in London, or the world for that matter. Roger was used to it; he knew how to handle and skirt around it. But Brian? It was highly unlikely he was prepared for what he'd be getting himself into.

The dark-haired man leaned over and took a quick glimpse of the collection of pictures Brian had started to examine, pictures of the two friends from a party or club—Freddie couldn't remember, but he certainly remembered wearing the ridiculous outfits the professor could never imagine pulling off himself. "He's gorgeous, isn't he?" he asked, pulling his attention away from the photographs and shifting it over to the man sitting beside him, more interested in what his response would be.

The curly-haired man kept quiet for a little before running his fingers down one of the photographs that stuck out like a sore thumb, contrasting greatly from the rest on the page. It was a picture of Roger alone, sitting behind a drum kit and wearing much more casual clothes—an all denim outfit, his pants a shade lighter than his shirt—with sticks in his hands and sunglasses on his face. There was no wig, no makeup, and no ostentatious getup. It was just...Roger. "I think he looks best just like this," he answered softly as a blush crept up in his cheeks and a crooked smile appeared on his face.

Freddie couldn't help the twitch in the corner of his lips as he took a sip of his own drink—having gained a little more faith in the professor—and murmured, "Yeah, I think so too."

Brian glanced over at him, the alcohol coursing through his veins preventing him from filtering his responses, and mumbled, "Can I ask you something, Freddie?"

"Ask away, Professor May," he replied cheekily, his lips forming a wide grin.

"I like him, Freddie. Roger, I mean. I really like Roger."

Freddie chuckled. "Not much of a question, Brian, but I know. In fact, I knew it the night at the club. Everyone did."

"Everyone?" the professor repeated, a wave of terror washing over him as he wondered who might've seen him that night, particularly someone at the university. He doubted it would've been another professor, because for all he knew, they were all married with wives and husbands—even Chrissie. But perhaps a student saw him. Word about him and the headmistress had already spread through the school, and that was bad enough. What if word got around that he was seen at a gay bar? He couldn't imagine what that would do to his already tainted image.

"Oh, don't act so surprised, darling. You were practically undressing him with your eyes." Brian's cheeks reddened at the brash accusation, but Freddie dismissed his embarrassment with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "I mean, practically everyone does, it's just that some are lucky enough to actually do it. I particularly haven't been lucky myself, other than to help him in or out of a dress or stockings, but I have a feeling that you, my friend, have a very good chance of being one of the lucky ones."

The professor remained quiet, pressing his lips tightly together as he tried desperately to think of anything and everything else. The thought of getting to undress Roger was tantalizing, though, and he couldn't help but wonder how it would be.

The two of them would be in a room together, alone, and some music would be playing softly in the background. A nervous tension would fill the air, but the minute their hands fall upon one another's bodies and their lips touch, that tension would fade away and be replaced with nothing but passionate lust. They'd stumbled over each other's feet towards the bed, and Roger would fall back on the mattress with Brian standing over him.

The blonde would bite his lip and inch his shirt up teasingly, revealing his flat stomach to the professor as he slipped his own shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the side. A giggle would slip past Roger's lips as Brian climbs into the bed with him, lowering himself down on top of the blonde and eliminating the space between them. He'd capture the music instructor's lips with his once more and his hands would slide up the clothes preventing him from making skin contact, his fingers desperately tugging at the fabric.

Roger would smirk against his colleague's kiss and tell him to do it, to take it off already, which Brian would eagerly agree to. First his shirt, then his pants and socks, and lastly his underwear that, when pulled down just enough, would expose the blonde's—

"Shit. It appears we're all out of vodka," Freddie blurted out dismally, bringing the professor back to reality as he tilted the empty bottle side to side and dropped his head back, shouting, "Mary, dear! Can you fetch me and Brian another bottle of vodka? We're all out, love!"