John's P.O.V.

I dragged the drunken Roger up the stairs whilst he pathetically giggled, shoving him in the bathroom where I waited in the doorway impatiently whilst he clumsily brushed his teeth and sloppily washed his face. He kept smirking at me but I was in no mood for playing.

I lead him into my bedroom where he immediately flopped onto the bed.

"Get up." I spat.

He groaned in response with no signs of him moving.

I charged over, grabbing his hands and roughly pulling him back up onto his feet.

"You're a disgrace." I snapped.

He grinned with slanted eyes that he could hardly keep open, "You love me."

Well, right now I was questioning that.

I glared at him whilst I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, yanking it from his person.

"Woah there..." he wobbled a little, "Somebodies eager." He winked at me, thinking that I was rushing to get his clothes off because I wanted to fuck him.

I scoffed, "Fat chance. You can never manage to get your cock hard when you're pissed anyway." I threw his shirt in a corner and proceeded to unbutton and unzip his jeans, pushing him on the bed so he was sat and I could pull the jeans off his legs.

"You're sure about that?" He slurred, trying to be sexy and failing.
He pointed to his crotch that was still thankfully covered by his boxers.

"Positive." I mumbled, taking off my own clothes. I just wanted to get into bed, turn off the light and not have to speak to him or see him.

"Get in." I ordered, pointing to the far side of the bed.

He stood up, "Just make sure..." he bit his lip with a wild grin on his face, I noticed how large his pupils were and realising he must have also taken some kind of drugs tonight too, adding to my anger. He took my hand and pressed my palm against his cock.

I shrugged, "Flaccid as fuck."

His face fell and he let my hand go, "Who says I have to go to bed anyway. I'm not tired." He stood in front of me, stubbornly crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, "Me, Roger. I say. We have work tomorrow and to be quite frank I just want you to go to sleep so you'll shut up."

His arms fell back by his side, "That's not very nice..." he pouted his lips and gave in, crawling into bed with a face like he'd just gotten a smacked bum.

We finally got settled in bed and I flicked off the lights, plummeting us into blackness.

He suddenly let out a really long, loud and exasperated sigh, "I love you..."

I swallowed, pretending to be asleep. I loved him back, I course I bloody did but right now I wasn't his biggest fan.

I had no clear idea as to why I was so angry anyway. Being alone with Brian tonight, I had been fine, of course I'd been worried, thinking Freddie was still out there looking for him but I knew he'd return at some point. He wasn't that stupid. I also had no clue why I was focusing all my anger towards Freddie when it should have been Roger I was angry at. Roger had lied to the other two, why did he tell them I was at the dentist? I told him that he could tell them if they asked. Why didn't he want them to know that I had gone to visit my parents? To build bridges with them?

Maybe it was the fact that Roger ran off because he was feeling angry about something, thinking that for some reason he thought he was the victim, that he needed the sympathy. That he never bothered to return home to ask how seeing my parents went. How seeing them for the first time since they threw me out of their house for being gay went. Did he care at all?

Maybe I was angry with Freddie for taking him out. I was angry because whatever Freddie did, Roger copied. It was like a unpopular school kid copying the popular kid just to make themselves look cool too. Freddie could lead Roger on to do anything, if he told him to jump, he'd jump.

If Fred drank, Roger did.
If Freddie took drugs, so did Roger.

I'm not saying this was all Freddie's idea because Roger probably encouraged him, like Brian said, they're the terrible twosome. They'll get up to bad things together, always have done, probably always will.

Maybe it was because Roger always seemed to have so much fun with Freddie, it wasn't that I wanted Rog to have more fun with me, more that I wanted to have a piece of the fun too. I seemed to always have to pick up the pieces from their carnage. Like right now, I had to look after Roger because he was so pissed, maybe I would just like to be invited out with them.

Maybe it was because since Roger had been displaying anger for the past couple of weeks, and then a night out with Freddie miraculously cured him...gave it all away. It gave away the answer. That Freddie was his cure. That no matter how hard I had tried with him, how hard I wanted to make him feel better...it was Freddie that he wanted. It was the singer that he wanted to spend time with. That's why he was angry. Because since Brian and Fred had been spending more time together lately, Roger hadn't been getting his daily Freddie fix.
I wasn't fucking stupid.

It was like I wasn't enough for him.

I had noticed Freddie being a tiny little bit more distant from me and Rog but probably no more than we were to him when we first got together so I had no hard feelings, I was happy for the two of them...Rog didn't seem to be at all.

I didn't want him to jeopardise anything for them.
Or anything for us.

I was thankful of Freddie for finding him, I should apologise to him in the morning. I really overreacted. I was just annoyed at their carelessness, if they had called home before they went out, just so I knew that Roger had been found and was safe, I would have been fine. But I should've known. They'd never done that in the past, why would they start now just because Rog was with me and Fred was seeing Brian...?

On the other hand, I needed to quiz Roger and get some answers from him. Why did he lie about me going to the dentist and why the fuck did he hide away at Freddie's old house?

I've always known that Rog has always had a little bit of a soft spot for our frontman, I mean, who doesn't? I do too...but Roger makes it a lot more obvious than I do. And it's not fair. It makes me feel unwanted. He'd soon have something to say if I was the one pining after the company of our singer. He wouldn't stand for it. Why should I?

Why does it always have to be something to do with Freddie that comes in between us? Yet the poor man doesn't even know that he does, we can't blame him, he's not actually doing anything to cause riffs in our relationship, he minds his own business most of the time.

Soon I could hear the deep breathing of Roger, giving away that, despite not wanting to go to bed, he was already asleep.

Although there was one question about tonight that I needed to ask Freddie.
Something I had discovered when undressing Roger just now that was making my hackles rise. Roger would never tell me the truth...but Freddie would.

I turned onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, wishing sleep would consume me just so I could escape this cobweb of thoughts, thankfully, my wish came true.

The next morning Roger was awake before me, I'd always been envious of him the mornings after a night out, it wasn't that he didn't suffer from hangovers because he did, a headache and the occasional nausea, but they never dampened his mood and he was always as spritely as ever.

I opened my eyes to see him checking his hair in the mirror, already dressed.

He looked at me through the reflection, noticing I was now awake and flashed me a sheepish smile...last night he was oblivious, but this morning, he knew he was in deep shit.

He turned around to face me properly now, "Morning..." he said, nervously.

"Morning." I replied, I was a lot calmer than last night but I still wanted him to know I wasn't too impressed with him.

He tentatively perched himself on the bed next to me and I looked expectantly at him.

He sighed a little, "I am so sorry..." he shook his head at himself.

I raised my eyebrows, "So you should be."

"We didn't intend to go all out last night..." he tried to defend himself. I knew he was lying.

"Really. So instead of just going for a pint in the Stone And Feather, you thought you'd walk straight past and go for a night out down The Mill? It sounds intended to me." I said smugly.

He looked down into his lap, twiddling his fingers.

"And let me guess, you didn't intend to take whatever drugs you took last night either, they just found themselves up your nose, did they?" I hated how he couldn't be straight with me. Just tell me the truth.

"It was just a bit of fun..." he mumbled.

"And do you think I was just having a bit of fun stuck here? Thinking Freddie was still out there looking for you but instead you were both living it large down town? You could have called back to tell us where you were going." I said sternly, knowing full well I sounded just like my mother right now.

He shrugged a little, "You would've stopped me..." he said, childishly.

I was getting annoyed, "Stopped you?! Damn fucking right I would have stopped you, I'd have wanted answers, like why the bloodyhell you ran off to Freddie's old house, of all places." I glared at him, he was jittery.

"I like it there...I feel safe." He swallowed hard.

"Safer then you'd feel if you were with me?"

"That's different. It's a nostalgic place." He was on defence mode.

I figured I wasn't going to get many, or if any straight answers out of him. I'd have to interrogate Freddie instead.

"Okay..." I began, about to ask him a question that Freddie wouldn't be able to answer for me, "Why did you lie to them? Why did you tell them I was at the dentist?" I shrugged.

"I didn't think you'd want them to know..."

"Roger. I told you that you could tell them! The fucking dentist?"

"I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry...how did it go anyway? With your parents?" He asked, timidly.

"Oh. So now you want to know?"

He huffed in defeat.

"Brilliant, actually. They apologised. Said they didn't want to lose me. Regretted everything they said. They've come to terms with me being gay and they've actually said they're proud of me for what Queen are doing. And they want to meet you again. Properly." I dropped the bombshell.

He looked at me with eyes wide like saucers, "Im not going if the same thing is going to happen again." He said stubbornly.

I rolled my eyes, did he listen to anything I'd just said? "It won't."

"Alright...I'll meet them again." He said, I knew he didn't want to but he owed me this for abandoning me last night.

"Good. And no more fucking secrets okay? And next time you decide to go for a spontaneous night out in town, at least have the decency to invite me so I don't have to be the one to clean up your mess." I winked at him. As much as I didn't agree with anything he did last night, I felt like we had only just gotten over an argument and I didn't want to have to put up with another one.

He let out a little smile and a laugh, "Okay, I will. I'm sorry for being a prick." He bent down and kissed my forehead.

I got up and out of bed, feeling a little bitter that we had to all go to the studio today on a weekend, sometimes it had to happen when the schedule for something was tight or a meeting couldn't be planned for another day, but we always tried to keep our weekends work free otherwise we'd be at it 24/7, we were all extreme workaholics.

But today was one of those days where a meeting couldn't be scheduled for any other day, the first of many, many meetings regarding our next tour was going on today. Our new album, A Day At The Races was due to be released in the next few weeks and with a new album, came a new world tour.

We knew it had to be done to promote ourselves and the new album but we all had mixed feelings about touring, Roger loved it, he thought of it as one huge adventure and the concerts were just a small part of it.

It stressed Brian out completely, he always got it into his head that he had to look after everyone, make sure the setlist was good, the equipment and instruments were spick and span, double and triple check with the other people working with us that our lighting rig and the hotels were completely and definitely working and booked.

I liked it, the different countries always interested me and I enjoyed putting on the concerts, but I was a home soul and got terribly homesick...and travel sick.

Freddie loved the thrill of the concerts, he belonged on the stage and he enjoyed visiting the countries, sight seeing and taking in the local traditions, but he hated all the travelling, he hated planes and coaches made him feel sick. He despised having to hotel hop, he said it made him feel like he had no proper place to be, staying one night in one city and another night in a different one...he often became very quiet and withdrawn...not to mention he almost always got some kind of painful throat infection what with straining his vocal chords almost every night.

Of course, myself and Brian suffered from painful and blistered fingers from the strings on our instruments, the skin on our finger tips had hardened what with the constant playing over the years but having to play nonstop 2 hour shows almost every night of the week, our fingers could be made of graphite and it would still hurt.

And then there was Roger, sat at the back behind his large drum kit, hitting and smashing those skins as if they were his worst enemy drained him of all energy and of course took its toll on his arms, often suffering from pulled muscles, he had to go through a rigorous massage before and after shows to keep his arms from seizing up for the next show.

Touring was exhausting for all four of us and the crew, but with the four of us performing on stage for more often more than two hours, maybe two shows a day or maybe a week full of shows without a break, running across the stage, concentrating, sweating like fucking mad under the heat of the lights and the general ambience of the place, having to entertain an audience and keep them entertained. It was draining, hard work and sometimes near on impossible. All of us at some point have been severely dehydrated, anything we drank got sweated out when we preformed, we all lost so much water weight and just weight in general that we were always told to fatten up before going on tour.

And then there were the fans. As much as we all fucking adored them, which we did, we would be nowhere without them, they got a little difficult sometimes. Crowding outside our hotel rooms to catch a glimpse of us, shouting outside constantly, depriving us of our much needed sleep, gathering at airports to see us get off the plane, running after our cars, grabbing and pulling at us. Brian always gets his hair pulled at, I remember one time he got a chunk of it ripped from his scalp.
We just couldn't escape them and it was scary. Imagine having a pack of Buffaloes chasing you threw the airport, our small security team and the local police officers doing all they can to keep the screaming crowd back so we can bundle ourselves into the cars, but more often than not, the crowd outnumbered the police vastly.

It was a rush and a thrill, we all loved signing autographs and taking pictures with fans but it could be really bloody scary at times. I have to keep reminding myself that it's just because we make them happy. They love what we do. More often than not they fancy us, girls and boys. We're their idols. Which I still think is weird, why would anyone look up to me?

And then of course, perhaps most importantly to Freddie, was designing the stage outfits. Apart from performing, it was his favourite part. Everything you've ever seen Freddie wear on stage has been a product of his imagination. Something that he has designed himself, a lot of the time they are rather outlandish and I personally wouldn't be seen dead in them but more often than not, he will also design our costumes too. But he knows not to take us too far with the clothes, we can't all pull off tight, open chested, studded jumpsuits like he can.

To get it off my chest and out of my head, I knew it would be better if I quizzed Freddie about what happened yesterday, now. To get it over with, then we can all move on.

Roger had gone downstairs to make some cups of tea so I went on the search for the singer.

I tapped softly on his bedroom door and poked my head around, only to see his room deserted.

I was about to go and see if he was downstairs when I heard voices coming from Brians room.

I knocked softly and again, poked my head in.

I saw Brian in bed, a book in one hand and his other arm thrown around a mountain of duvet, in the middle of which was a tiny face poking out of it.

Freddie obviously wasn't blessed with the light hangovers that Roger had.

I giggled a little, "Hope I'm not disturbing anything?" I asked, gathering I had just interrupted them mid conversation what with their faces.

Brian was about to answer when Freddie answer quicker, "No! No, of course not..." his voice was very hoarse, I liked hearing his voice sound like that.

"In that case, can I steal you for a minute, Fred?"

He looked at me cautiously before shifting, nodding and removing himself from Brians bed but bringing the duvet that was wrapped around his person with him and we retreated back into his bedroom.

I shut the door behind us and he sat on the edge of his bed, the duvet looking like a teepee, draped over his head and covering the rest of his body.

"You're not going to loose your rag with me like you did last night, are you?" He asked, sheepishly, squinting at the light that was pouring into his bedroom.

I chuckled a little and sat down next to him, "No. I'm sorry about that, Fred. I really don't know what came over me. Really shit of me...thank you for finding him." I smiled and nudged him a little.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief, "Good. You're bloody scary when you're cross, do you know that?! It's okay, Deaks. We all get a bit flustered when we're panicky, don't we? I'm sorry, we shouldn't have gone out." He glanced at me sympathetically.

Already more apologetic than Roger.

There was a small pause before I started my questioning, "Did he tell you why he'd run off to your old house? Why he's been so angry?
He won't tell me." I pleaded.

He sighed and pushed off the duvet from his body, revealing his naked body apart from a pair of boxers covering his essentials.

He looked at me, his hair sticking up all over the place, his face very pale from his hangover and his under eyes dark...probably another symptom from the hangover.

"He...didn't really say much as to why he went there. He's a weirdo. Said it was nostalgic to him, it was a place he always used to go to whenever he felt angry or sad." He shrugged, his face full of hope that he had delivered me the answer I wanted to hear.

It was already more than what Rog had told me.

I understood. Before I was out as gay, before even Roger was out as gay, Fred and him practically lived together...I guess it was a place that Roger felt like he could go to feel close to Freddie because he couldn't have his real company. Still a little desperate of him...still seemed to me he wanted the singers attention more than mine.

"And his anger?" I pushed.

He struggled to form words, "He was mad at me for ignoring him. So I suggested the night out to make up for doing that. I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you too, Deaks. I just don't want to give him any reason to stop trying, y'know?" He'd lowered his voice to speak that last part, nodding towards Brians room.

I did know. And I completely understood because I was exactly the same when it came to me and Roger. I wanted to keep his attention. Didn't want to give him any excuse to start retreating.

What I didn't understand, was that Freddie was also my best friend, I had noticed the lack of attention he was giving me and Rog but I always understood why he was doing it, and was perfectly okay with it. He was finally going after what he had wanted for years. But unlike Roger, I wasn't raging with jealousy. Yes, I absolutely loved spending time with Freddie but I would never get to the point where I would get resentful towards him just because he was spending more time with Brian than he was me. I wouldn't get in a mood for weeks because of it. It was strange and I didn't like it.

"I understand completely, Fred. Go after him. You deserve it. Roger is just being stupid." I smiled, rubbing his arm as he smiled bashfully.

"Thanks, Deaks..." he smiled warmly at me.

This next question made me have an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I had to ask him about it otherwise it would drive me completely bananas, it was probably nothing and it could have just happened in passing..."Wh...why does Rogers shirt from last night smell like women's perfume? There's red lipstick on the collar..." I swallowed hard.

((A/N - hello darlings! Incredibly sorry for not updating in a week, after my drunken weekend out last weekend I went away for a few days with my parents and had no wifi so I couldn't update! I've tried to make it up to you with an extra long part <3 can we believe I've already been writing this story for over a year? It's gone so quickly and I've enjoyed every second of it, maybe I should mention now that I have SO many ideas to write a sequel story so that's certainly going to happen in the future! ;) also, GUESS WHO BAGGED HERSELF TICKETS TO GO SEE QUEEN IN DECEMBER?! I'm so excited I could vomit.))