Freddie's P.O.V.

That little fucking detective.

I inhaled heavily and glanced at him, I tried to act casual, it wasn't like Roger had even done anything with that woman that was sat on his lap...she was just sitting...on his lap.

Oh dear.

Should I tell him the truth or curve it a little? To stop an argument breaking out between the two of them again.

Somehow, I don't think Deaks would like it if I told him that Roger had an attractive female perched on his lap, stroking his thigh. If I found out Brian had been in the same situation...I certainly wouldn't be very happy.

"We...we just got talking to these girls whilst waiting at the bar. I think one of them may have...had to lean over his shoulder to order her drink...that's all." I shrugged.

He nodded his head slowly, "Okay...that's okay..." he said quietly.

I sat there, waiting for another question from him but I didn't get one, thankfully.

I put a hand on his leg, "You're coming with us next time. In fact, we need a night out with all four of us!" I exclaimed, realising that the four of us haven't been out together since Scotland, probably.

He cracked into a grin and a giggle, he nodded more enthusiastically this time, "Definitely. I'm fed up of having to Mother him all the time." He replied, hinting at Roger.

"I'll have it arranged." I winked.

He got up from my bed, looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, I hoped my answers to his questions satisfied him enough, even if they were not the full truth. But I think by withholding some information, it's going to be better for the both of them.

I just hated how Roger never told him anything in fear of an argument. He needed to get over that fear, sometimes arguing is the only way of communicating, it's not a nice way, but it gets things said.

"You should get dressed, we have to go in ten." Deaks chuckled as he walked to my door.

I groaned, "Why today. Of all days...can't it fucking wait?" I flopped back onto my bed.

I heard him laugh, "Ten minutes, Freddie!" He reminded me as he left.

"Ten minutes. They can bloody well wait." I chuntered to myself, scraping my sorry body off the comfort of my bed. I still felt like the devil himself had entered my body and was making poison pulse through my every vein whilst he clawed at my brain. I had the worst of headaches, the light was blinding me even though it was likely to be dim.

I bet that lucky blonde bastard felt fresh as daisy as he always did after a night out. I envied him for that, how I wish I didn't have to recover for three days and feel like I'd been run over by several lorries.

I couldn't be arsed to make any kind of effort, they should all be blessed that I was even going to bother to turn up, a bloody tour meeting, already. The album wasn't even out yet and they already wanted to blast us off to the other side of the world. I sometimes wished we didn't have a manager so we could decide for ourselves when and if we wanted to tour. Don't get me wrong, touring was a wonderful experience, I throughly enjoyed putting on the shows and entertaining the audiences, meeting new people in their countries and so on, we had an awful lot to give back to them, but the travelling pissed me right off. It was so fucking boring and I hated planes. Fucking hated them. It wasn't that I was scared of flying, I just didn't trust them as machines...unpredictable things they are. Trains are noisy and long and coaches make me throw up, you know, if I could walk, I bloody well would.

I threw on some jeans and a striped T-shirt and brushed my hair, trying to flatten it. My hair always seemed to be a lot more wild when I woke up the morning after a drunken night. Making me look as bad as I felt.

Grabbing my aviator sunglasses to shield my eyes from the light that was blinding me...and to hide the dark circles that were courtesy of this beautiful hangover, I slid them on and left my room, already wanting this day to be over and there was bound to be tonnes more meetings regarding the tour before something even gets done. Tedious work.

I ran downstairs, greeted by the smell of toast that was graciously churning my stomach but of course, when I entered the kitchen it was Roger munching on it, how he was always able to eat after getting drunk I will never fucking know. He never throws up either, he was like a sponge, just soaked it all up.

I heard his little snicker when I entered, "Morning..." he giggled.

I didn't say anything back but gave him the middle finger instead.

"Feeling fresh this morning, I see." He added, obviously very pleased with himself.

"You knobhead." I chuckled a little whilst I downed a glass of water.
"You out of the doghouse with Deaks yet?" I asked.

He looked at me comically, "I'm sorry, are you talking to me? I can't quite tell where you're looking what with those sunglasses..." he joked, knowing he was irritating me but loving it.

I stared at him blankly, "They'll be up your fucking arse in a minute if you're not careful." I replied, monotone.

He cackled loudly at my response and finally started to answer my question, "Think so...he was so mad with me. I don't know why, it's not like we did anything wrong."

I walked up to him, "Hey." I whispered, "He asked me why you smelled of women's perfume and why you had red lipstick on your collar. I told him that it happened while we were waiting at the bar so you better go along with that. And get yourself together, I don't want to see you doing anything like that with anyone again, okay? Otherwise, next time I'm not bailing you out of shit." I warned him, my voice a whisper the whole time, I never intended to scold him like that but what he allowed that woman to do, even if it wasn't major, was still wrong. He needed to get his act together, he wasn't there on the pull, he had a boyfriend. He shouldn't need reminding about that.

He eyes were wide and his smile had gone, "Shit..." he cursed, "I didn't even know." He panicked.

"Yes well. If you didn't allow her on your knee in the first place then you wouldn't have to know, because it wouldn't have happened." I hissed at him.

He nodded at me, "Thanks...that was so shitty of me." His expression was pained and I hoped he knew that he had very nearly majorly fucked up.

Although his responses never really made it clear as to whether he regretted his actions or not, he more avoided them completely so he didn't have to face them, a short answer like the one he just gave me and then it's all forgotten about...with him. Not with me.

"Right! Ready?" John suddenly burst into the kitchen looking eager to get going.

I stepped away from Roger quickly and leaned against another surface to make things look less suspicious, nodding, "Yeah...the sooner this is over, the better." I grumbled.

"Brian?!" John shouted as the guitarist wasn't downstairs yet.

"Coming!" We all heard him yell followed by him running down the stairs.

I felt a pang of guilt once he entered the kitchen and glanced at me, twice he had now asked me if we were an item and twice had I avoided answering him. I wanted to answer him, I wanted to say yes. But a little part of me was scared that if we were official...would things fizzle out a little? I had been chasing him desperately for a number of years, was I really ready for all that chasing to stop? I mean, of course, I wanted to be in a real, proper relationship with him...but it would mean that I had finally caught him...all of my unknowing questions of does he even like men, does he even like me...will stop. Even though it was emotionally and physically draining with so much heartbreak... I think I'll miss it.

Luckily, I don't think he could tell I  had been staring at him whilst going through my thoughts what with the sunglasses I had on...probably for the best. But no doubt I'd have to face his question later on.

We all went out and bundled into Brian's car, myself and Brian in the front, the other two in the back and set off to the studio.

"Do we all know what we actually want to say to them? We're agreeing on everything still, right?" Brian asked, he often took charge with things that included a lot of organising.

Prior to today we had all already discussed some factors that we all wanted for the tour, things like the countries we wanted to perform in, dates, and even a possible setlist, but nothing was set in stone yet, they were all just possibilities.

"I don't know why we bother. None of it gets listened to anyway. They just book us into wherever they fancy, we might as well not even be at the meetings, they arrange everything behind our backs." I grumbled, staring out of the window, wishing I had taken some paracetamol for this god awful headache before leaving because no doubt it would get worse what with having to listen to everyone waffle on about shit for hours on end.

"Lighten up, Freddie." Roger cackled in the back.

The drummer had really changed his tune, from refusing to speak to me for the past two weeks to being all friendly and cheeky. It left me feeling a little on edge, if he was acting this way just because he's now told me about his fancy for me and thinks he's allowed to...then it has to stop. But if he's like this just because we've gotten over that little tiff...it's fine. Maybe I was just overthinking, he probably wasn't lowkey flirting...but he was never like this before Brian and me were dating.
I ignored him.

All too soon we got to the studio and Brian parked up, the lovebirds in the back got out, Brian undid his seatbelt and glanced at me.

"You know you have to come in. Don't leave me with those two." He nodded towards Deaky and Rog who were impatiently waiting for us near the entrance.

"I don't want to..." I groaned, tipping my head back in a strop.

Bri chuckled, getting out of the car, I thought he had gone over to the other two until my car door opened and a hand reached over my body to unfasten my seatbelt.

"I'll bloody carry you in if I have to." He warned, jokingly.

A smile escaped me as I glanced up at him, "Bridal style?" I mischievously asked.

He laughed, sticking his hand out for me to take, "Come on. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can get out."
Reluctantly, I grabbed his hand and he pulled me out, gently pushing me against the car as he slammed the door shut.

He stood in front of me and I pouted at him, letting out a pretend cry whilst I let my head fall onto his chest.

"Aww, somebodies Mr Grumblebum today..." Bri said with sympathy in his voice, stroking the tops of my arms.

"I feel ill..." I moaned into his chest where he enveloped me in a hug. Hoping he would suggest driving me home and making an excuse up for me, filling me in on everything that was said later on.

"It's all that nasty alcohol." He let me go and took my chin, making me look up at him, "Maybe you should go on an alcohol ban for a while?" He said with a straight face, but I knew he was joking.

"Not fucking likely." I grinned at him.

He chuckled at me and grabbed my hand, dragging me behind him, giving me no choice as to whether I wanted to go in or not.

"Have you two done fucking?" Roger blurted once we had joined them again.

"Roger!" John slapped his arm.

I felt my face go a little red, but again, I ignored him and so did Brian. He'd soon get bored if he wasn't getting a reaction, but then again, he'd probably throw a strop and accuse us for ignoring him again.

We all entered the studio to find James, the tour producer who worked on our last tour, and to be quite frank, an utter dickhead, and Jim, our manager.

It was only going to be these two for the meeting today as no serious planning was to be done, just brainstorming and things to look into, the more serious the planning got, the more professional the meetings got and the more staff attended them.

"Hey! Off the drums!" I heard a squeal come from the blonde and I looked over to see James sat at them, drumsticks in his hands.

He was still a dickhead, then.

I glanced at Brian, cringing as he ushered us all around the table.
Jim didn't particularly like James either but had to act like it to stay professional.

On our last tour, James tried to take control and tell us how everything should look and sound. I told him to fuck off. This is how it'll happen or not at all. Of course, he wanted to make money so eventually went along with it, but after one show I was furious, throughout the whole concert the lighting routines were different, it made us look like we didn't know what we were doing, freezing when a song ended because there was supposed to be a blackout but it never happened and so on. It wasn't until after the show that I found out that James had slipped the lighting technician a new cue sheet without any of us knowing because he thought it would look better. Piece of shit. I gave him what for when I threatened to throw an iron through his fucking skull if he did it again. It was our show. He was there to direct it, if you would. Which he does a shit job of. I don't even know why Jim asked him to do it for us again after he knows none of us liked him and he changed stuff without our permission. But apparently he was cheap and we needed to save money somewhere what with having all the top of the range equipment.

"Morning boys..." Jim greeted us and sat in the middle of us, I didn't know how long Jim had been having to put up with James but he looked pissed off already.

"We won't be able to top the last one." James blurted out in his strong cockney accent, not even a hello from him, just straight to the twat talk.

His sentence rose my hackles.

"Why not?" Brian asked.

"Do you know how much money the last tour cost?" He cackled arrogantly.

"Yes actually. But you shouldn't. Why are you looking at our financial history?" John perked up. Deaks was brilliant when it came to anything that included money, he was like our personal accountant, anything that involved money was left to him because he was so good at it, always ended up saving a lot too with him in control. Which is funny because he obviously wasn't very good with his personal finances, having his house took off him and all.

James held his hands up in defence and carried on talking, ignoring John's question, "Anything bigger and we'll have to rob a bank." He shrugged.

"Well fuck that then. If it's not going to be better than the last tour what's the point?" I spat at him.

He glared at me, we'd never fixed the patches since our bust up and we quite clearly still hated each other, "Take those bloody things off, it's rude." He said smugly, referring to my sunglasses, again, completely ignoring the question I had asked.

I scoffed, I could be a lot more arrogant than he was, he was in no position to tell me what to do, "I'm just shielding my eyes from your stench, darling. But do carry on." I raised an eyebrow at him and I saw his jaw clench.

I felt a hand squeeze my thigh under the table and looked up to see Brian widening his eyes at me, warning me to keep myself under control.

"I'm not joking. It's going to have to be smaller and shorter, less shows. Less theatrical elements. Just a simple show with no fancy lights." He shrugged.

There was immediate grumbling and arguing from all four of us, a mixture of fuck that's and no ways.

"Boys." Jim spoke up to try and quieten us down, he turned to James, "Why can't it be at the same standard as the last one? Why does it have to be less than that? Why not the same?" He tried to reason with James but I would refuse to tour if it wasn't going to be bigger and better than the last one. Yes, it might have cost a lot of money but it wasn't coming out of his pocket anyways. What would be the point in taking something on tour that was less or even the same standard as the last one? People don't want to see the same, they want to see how much we've grown and gotten better since they saw us last.

"Because it was bloody hard work!" He exclaimed.

"Hard work?! It's your fucking job!" I spat, not meaning to erupt like that.

Again, another squeeze on my thigh from Brian.

"Can we not hire more crew?" Roger suggested, the most sensible thing to have left his mouth all day.

"With what money?" James replied, talking to him as if he was stupid.

My mind was quickly changing, not only would I not tour if the show wasn't better but I wouldn't tour if he was involved. Fuck that right off.

I glanced at Deaky who was staring at James with daggers in his eyes.

"I'm sure we'll be able to get sponsors and funding from somewhere." Brian finally said after not having participated much yet.

"Well. I refuse to do anything for you until you show me some money to work with." He leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face that I would like to kick clean off.

I stood up, I couldn't be in that room with that bastard any longer, "And I refuse to fucking work with you full stop." I hissed, walking past and heading into the toilets where my anger threatened to make me smash all the mirrors in here.

Prick. What the fuck gave him the right to speak to any of us in the way that he just had, no wonder he was cheap, he was shit at his job. The cheek, wanting us to show him the money before he would agree to work with us? He sounded like a scam to me. He'd probably pocket the lot of it and run away never to be seen again. I wasn't going to let him produce our show, it would never have the chance to be something we would be proud of if he had anything to do with it. Fuck it, I'll produce it. Well, I would if I could.
He wasn't even that cheap. I swear we could find someone cheaper who would do a brilliant job.

I leaned against the far wall with my eyes closed and took deep breaths to stop me from breaking something.

I heard the door being pushed open and my eyes flickered back open to see Brian marching towards me, I thought I was about to get a lecture from him for being an arse and not cooperating and I wasn't about to let him tell me to be nice to him.

But his expression told me otherwise, a dark smirk on his face which was actually rather sexy.

He stopped right in front of me, "He's a bastard, I know." He almost smiled but stopped himself.

I was about to go off on a rant but he grabbed my hand and took me by absolute surprise by dragging me into a cubicle with him and locking the door, pushing my back up against it, he lowered his voice, "And you need to keep being a bastard towards him back, he's loosing patience. Keep arguing and he'll quit. I know it. Then we'll get somebody else, I don't want to work with him either." He shook his head quickly and now I was smirking back at him.

Crafty little thing.

"So...you're saying we should all be really difficult, keep talking back?" I clarified with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes..." he nodded, grinning.

James must be a cockend if even Bri
didn't want to work with him, Brian usually had loads of patience with people, but clearly not James.

I chuckled and played with a strand of his hair, "I like your thinking." I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down the few inches to my level and we shared a kiss, I was finding it increasingly difficult to just be satisfied with a kiss.

He let me go and unlocked the door, but before I could escape he dragged me backwards where he scooped me up playfully and walked out of the cubicle.

"Brian! Put me down..." I laughed, trying to wriggle from his grip but he stood so that we could see the both of us in the mirror, I stopped struggling and looked at our reflections.

"Look how fucking gorgeous we look together..." I let slip from my lips as I realised, we did look good.

He stared at us in the mirror and put me back down, nodding, "I have to agree..." he said with a grin.

"Took you bloody long enough to realise that we'd look good." I teased, referring to all the years he just ignored me.

He chuckled and snaked his arms around my waist where I rested my body against his, seeing us act like this in the reflection was adorable, I have to say. It was like watching all those imaginary scenarios that I had created in my head for many years come to life...this was real.

"Although..." he started and I looked at him through the mirror, "You still haven't answered my question."