BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

6 - roger daltrey ²

A continuation of the previous chapter for the sweet @alicemaydaltrey! Same notes apply: a female reader who's pregnant.
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The days had waned into months, slowly building up to the day that you would go into labor. It was just one day shy of your ninth month of pregnancy, and the doctor had warned you that the baby could come any day now. It was
frightening and exciting all at once.

Roger had took the doctor at his word, abstaining from all activities with the band until he knew that you and your child were safe and healthy. You had protested this at first, knowing all too well the repercussions Roger's absence would cause. The Who needed him.

But you needed him more.

And it was true. You didn't have the energy to get out of bed anymore. The strain of the baby on you made your ankles ache and your body sore. It felt as though you were a walking nerve-end, pulsing with irritating soreness.

Roger had taken it in stride, careful to mask any of his worry with extra cups of tea and lingering touches on your shoulders and back. He was always a second away from the telephone, waiting to ring the hospital if any complications should arise.

You didn't bother with chastising him for it, as you weren't sure if there would be issues either. Was everything supposed to hurt this badly? Was it normal?

To distract yourself from your own worry, you read novel upon novel, pulling yourself away from the world for just an hour or two. Roger wouldn't be too far away, watching a terrible variety show on television. He didn't enjoy reading like you did, but he was kind enough to make himself scarce to give you some peace.

Right now, you had your nose in your favorite comfort book, leant up against a wall of pillows that Roger had thrown together for you on the bed. He'd taken them from every room in the house, from cushions to feather pillows, Roger painstakingly made you a little nest.

His efforts were misguided, yet sweet all the same.

"Didja want some more tea, love? I added extra sugar." Roger came into the room balancing two cups. It was clear you would have to take it anyway.

You smiled tiredly, bookmarking your current page and setting the book aside to take the tea. "Thanks, dear. Come sit with me, I need the company."

Roger didn't waste any time sliding into the bed next to you, carefully rearranging himself around the sea of pillows so you wouldn't be caused any needless discomfort. You sighed fondly, stretching your tender legs out underneath the blankets, brushing your socked feet together.

"Are you still sore?" Roger asked quietly, placing his drink down on the nightstand to rub at your shoulders. "There're some painkillers in the cabinet if –"

You plucked one of his hands off, dropping a short kiss on the knuckles. "I'm fine. Remember what we said about worrying?"

Roger chewed on his lip, "I know. I jus' don't wanna take any chances. Not with the baby bein' so close to..."

You nodded, understanding. He reached a tentative hand over, sliding reverently over your belly. If you waited, you might be lucky enough to feel a gentle kick. It was a terrifying sort of wonder. Soon you would be giving birth.

"We'll get through it. She'll be alright, I just know it," you said, covering his hand with your own.

"How do you know it's a she?" Roger asked, quirking a half-smile. You'd successfully distracted him from another bout of worry.

Grinning back at him, you hummed, "A mother just knows, doesn't she?"

Roger relented, allowing you this small victory. You leaned into his chest, finding a home within the scent of his cologne. The TV was droning softly in the background, lulling you into your dreams.

Even in your subconscious, you could feel Roger's hands on your back, rubbing away the tension. He combed his fingers through your hair and played with the frayed ends of your worn blouse. Roger whispered things to you, but you couldn't make them out.

Your brain was midway between shutting off entirely and being awake enough to pick up on the minute sounds around you. Roger muttered something that sounded a lot like I love you. It was lost in the fizzle of the program.

When next you awoke, it was to the nauseous, swimming feeling of your stomach. You disentangled yourself from Roger, who'd passed out on your chest, and padded into the bathroom just in time.

You hated morning sickness. It was by far the worst part of the whole ordeal. The vomiting made you feel vulnerable and weak, like you were being turned inside out.

Rinsing your mouth out thoroughly, you went through the motions of brushing your teeth and hair. Lying around in bed all day wasn't doing much for your looks, and you cringed at how Roger had been seeing you. You were all tangled hair and drooping eyes.

"I heard you – Y/N, are you alright?" Roger poked his head into the bathroom, eyes wide and panicked.

You realized that Roger hadn't been around for your morning sickness yet. It was all very new to him still.

He rushed over, his hands finding your belly. "Are you sick? D'ya need me to ring them?"

You steadied yourself with Roger's arm, trying to calm another nauseous swell before it took over again. "No, no. It's normal."

Roger helped you walk back to your bed, making sure that you were covered snugly in the blankets and comfortable against the pillows. He silently hovered by your bedside holding your hand, as if you were about to go into labor.

It was clear that Roger was exhausted, drained by his worry over you. It ate you up with guilt. You wished that he could relax, but you knew that wouldn't happen until the baby was born. Maybe even longer than that.

"Stay with me Rog. Until the baby comes," you murmured sleepily, tugging on Roger's arm.

He fit himself in beside you again, nuzzling into your hair as one hand snuck its way up underneath your shirt to feel the rise and fall of your swelled abdomen with each inhale and exhale.

It was this frazzled sort of peace that you could live with.

"Love you too, y'know," you said to the orange-yellow tones of the rising sun on the ceiling.

You felt Roger smile into your neck.
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I hope you enjoyed this! It took me a hot minute to finish writing actually, so I hope it turned out alright! Any feedback you might have would be greatly appreciated!

Do you have a favorite Who composition?

It's so hard for me to choose just one, but I will narrow it down to three: Going Mobile, However Much I Booze, and A Quick One, While He's Away (but the version of A Quick One on The Kids Are Alright just hits different.)

Thank you for reading!
– adeleine