I'm writing notes on a patient's chart when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a child-sized tornado tear down the hospital corridor. Cedric stops just short of me and wraps his arms around both my legs, threatening to topple me over. His mum trails behind him, calling his name.

"I don't want to go," he mumbles into my leg. I reach down and ruffle his curly auburn hair, briefly remembering how feeble he had looked when he first arrived. His lungs had been so full of fluid that he could barely breathe, and it had been touch-and-go for a few days. In the two weeks since then, he's managed to enchant everyone here.

"Dr. Evans, I'm so sorry--" his mum says breathlessly as she near us. I smile kindly at her before stooping down to speak to my patient.

"Just think how nice it'll be to sleep in your own bed!"

"No, I want to stay here," he replies petulantly. "Will you come live with us? You're my favorite."

"But who will feed my cats if I live with you?" I ask with mock seriousness. "I think they may get a bit lonely... and quite hungry."

"Well... maybe you could visit me then?" He looks up at me with hopeful eyes.

"Tell you what:  Once you're home, I want you to make a list of all the fun things that you do. Then you can tell me about it at your check-up in a few weeks. Deal?"

Cedric looks at me with a little pout, considering my offer. I glance up at his mum, who gives me a grateful smile. She looks absolutely worn-out. We haven't seen Cedric's dad once the entire time, making me wonder if his mum is doing this all on her own. Straightening up, I'm about to grab Cedric's file when a nurse calls over to me.

"Dr. Evans? There's someone here to see you." She has a little grin on her face and looks mischievously down the hall.

I look around and spot Roger standing by the reception desk. Even from here, I can tell that he's full of nervous energy, though I don't know if the nerves are from worry or excitement. Furrowing my brow, I wonder if everything is okay.

"Cedric, give me two minutes, okay? Then I'll get you discharged. Just two minutes."

Walking down the long hallway towards Roger, I feel a smile spread across my face. I haven't seen him all week, and he's a sight for sore eyes. Despite our crazy schedules, we've managed to cram in four dates in three weeks, which wasn't as easy as it may sound. We had both kept things annoyingly chaste, deliberately driving each other slightly mad.

Our first date took place at the cinema, and, if you quizzed either of us about the film's plot line, we would fail. We went dancing at a club for the second date. The third, he dragged me to a bar in Shoreditch, where I was promised the most fabulous martini in the world. The fourth date took place at Trident Studios, where I lounged on the sofa while the boys finished the final mix for their album. That one didn't even count as a real date, but we included it in the tally anyway.

And tonight was the elusive fifth date, for which I have very high expectations.

At the end of the hallway, Roger is  looking down at his fidgeting hands. A five o'clock shadow covers his jaw, making him appear a bit older. This is the first time that he's been inside the hospital, so it's also the first time he's seen me in my doctor's attire. Hopefully, I don't look too terrible, since I'm on hour 13 of an 18-hour shift.

As I get closer, he sees me and straightens. Initially, he looks a bit intimidated as his eyes wander down to check out my white doctor's coat. Then, just as quickly, a familiar smirk spreads across his face.

"Why do I feel like you're undressing me with your eyes?" I murmur, keeping a respectable distance between us even though I'm dying to throw myself into his arms.

"Because I am," he replies cockily.

"Is everything okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you at work. The thing is, I can't do dinner tonight, and I wanted to tell you in person."

"But, it's the fifth date!" I blurt out. Roger's smile widens as I realize that I sound like a horny, overeager teenager. One look at his face, though, tells me that he doesn't mind one bit.

"Oh, trust me, I know," he says. "But I have a good reason to reschedule. An excellent reason. The best reason in the history of reasons, even."

"Doc-tor Ev-ans!" Cedric's voice echoes down the hallway, and I look back to see him tapping his foot impatiently. I wave and hold up one finger before I turn back to Roger, who, in his excitement, leans forward to put his hand on my arm and lowers his voice conspiratorially.

"Sky-- we're going to be on Top of the Pops tomorrow."

"What!? No! Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious. Bowie had to cancel, so our publicist called in a favor."

"Rog, that's amazing! Oh my god!" I want to jump up and down but, rationally, know that I can't at the moment. "I really wish I could kiss you right now."

"Don't tempt me," he replies, looking at my lips for a beat before taking a deep breath. "So, anyway, we have to rehearse basically all night so that we don't fuck it up... which is why I need to reschedule. Trust me, I'd rather be with you than with those three."

"Are you actually apologizing for rehearsing for Top of the Pops instead of having dinner with me?!"

"No, not at all, actually. I'm apologizing for missing out on what would have happened just after dinner." His smirk is infectious, and I take a step closer as I  momentarily forget that I'm at work.

"You're pretty sure of yourself."

"Well, given what happened last week at the studio once the fellows left-- I mean, really, Sky, that was--"

Before Roger can finish the sentence, and before the blush can spread across my face, Cedric scurries over to once again wrap his body around my legs.

"Who's this?" Roger asks as his expression immediately transforms into an innocent-boy-next-door look that I've never seen before.

"I'm Cedric. And your two minutes are up."

"Ahh, Cedric." Roger grins and squats down to his level, putting his hand out. "I've heard so much about you from Skylar-- uh, Dr. Evans. Lovely to meet you." The little boy stoically ignores the proffered hand and looks up at his competition with cunning eyes.

"Well, I've never once heard of you, mister." With that, he reaches out a chubby hand and pokes Roger in the ribs with just enough force that the drummer is thrown off balance. He tumbles onto the floor, a pile of blonde hair and long legs. I try to keep a straight face, but seeing Roger Taylor felled by a six-year-old kid... it's too much. I burst out laughing, clapping my hands over my mouth.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry-- Cedric, that's a naughty thing to do--" Cedric's mum runs over, looking horrified.

Roger lets out a laugh and stands easily. "It's no problem. I'm the one interrupting."

"You said two minutes, Dr. Evans!" Cedric whines. I grin at him and hold out a hand.

"Okay," I say. "Let's get you discharged." We turn towards the reception desk, and I look back over my shoulder to see two blue eyes gazing at me.

"You'll come tomorrow? We're filming in the late afternoon." He keeps his voice just low enough that I can barely hear it as I'm marched away by a six-year-old tyrant.

"Leave the details with the receptionist, and I'll be there," I promise.

He winks and mouths the word 'bye.' I return the smile and, just before I'm out dragged out of eyesight, I blow a kiss over my shoulder.

**

When I arrive at Weather Studios at 3pm sharp the next day, the four members of Queen are a heady mixture of giddy and terrified.

"You're here!" Roger exclaims as soon as I stick my head through a half-open door to the dressing room. He jumps up and runs over to envelop me in a hug, lifting me off the ground briefly.

"Hi," I say, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. At the last moment, he turns his head so that our lips lock briefly.

"Hey, Skylar," Brian calls over from where he's perched by an illuminated mirror. A hairstylist is poking at his mane of curls as if she's not sure what to do with them. Roger gives me two seconds to greet the fellows before he drags me over to a corner.

"Look what they've done to my hair," he says flatly, pulling a long lock of dark blonde hair through his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking Freddie and his fucking straightening iron."

"Not my fault," Freddie calls over from where he's chatting with Mary. "Mine doesn't get so... flat."

I give Roger a critical once-over and decide that, yes, his hair is flatter than usual. But he still looks edible in tight pants and a silky black-and-white jacket with flared sleeves. His chest is bare except for a few necklaces, reminding me of what I had missed the previous night. I don't realize that my eyes are roving his body hungrily until he clears his throat, and I raise my eyes guiltily to meet his triumphant eyes.

"Now who's undressing who with their eyes?"

"Well, you're practically naked..." I trail off as Roger rolls his eyes and grins happily at me. He reaches out a hand to tug me closer.

"I missed you last night," he says quietly so his bandmates can't overhear. My arms go around his waist under his coat, and he angles his head towards mine. He's about to go for it when Brian interrupts us with his snickering.

"Get a room, you two!"

"Don't be silly, they haven't had their fifth date yet," Freddie comments. I break away from Roger to look at the singer, who winks and flashes a broad, cheeky smile.

"You told them?" I say to Roger, swatting his arm.

"Darling, he could talk of nothing else last night. Each time we went through the song again, he reminded us about what he was missing."

Freddie's grin gets even wider, and, clearing his throat, his voice goes up a few octaves.

"'You lot are lucky that I'm sooooo committed to the band! Otherwise, I'd be shagging my girl right now! Right this very second! Allllll night long! Allllll over the flat! The sofa, the kitchen floor, the dining table, the shower, the--'"

Freddie's soliloquy is interrupted by Mary, who laughingly puts a hand over her boyfriend's mouth. Freddie immediately pulls it away and begins to cackle uncontrollably, John and Brian chucking behind him. I roll my eyes at Roger, who has the decency to look embarrassed.

"It wasn't like that at all, Sky, it was much more respectful and-- uh, innocent, I swear."

"Sure it was," I grumble.

"Besides, if someone could manage to mime the damn song without looking like an absolute fraud, then we wouldn't have been holed up in rehearsals all night--"

"--I told you, I'm just going to keep the microphone in front of my mouth," Freddie says defensively. "You fucking try to sing along convincingly to a recording of yourself."

"Well, I bloody well have to do it too, don't I? And play fake drums. So if anyone--"

"Will you two old ladies give it a rest?" John says from his corner of the room. "We've been over this a million times. It'll be fine."

"It'll be great," Brian adds.

"It'll be great," I repeat quietly to Roger, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

And it's better than great. In fact, they absolutely smash it. Mary and I stand in a corner, watching the fellows perform "Seven Seas of Rhye." Freddie is deadly serious throughout the performance, gazing sultrily at the camera. Brian and John look down studiously at their instruments, while Roger sneaks in a wink when he leans over to the mic to fake-harmonize.

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Once the final note is played, the producer runs over to them, clapping his hands with glee. "The kids will go crazy over this!" he exclaims. The guys look noticeably more relaxed and, as soon as they're changed, they begin to organize an outing to the pub.

"We could have our date now?" Roger comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

"I have to be at work in an hour," I reply sadly.

"You're no fun," he replies, giving me a little squeeze.

"I've been telling you that all along." I lean my head back and kiss the side of his head. "You go have fun with the boys. I'll just be saving the lives of tiny humans. No big deal."

"No big deal," he repeats with a grin. He spins me around and kisses me on the nose. "So when will we have our fifth date? Because, seriously, Sky, if it's not soon, then I swear--"

"Skylar, I would think that you of all people would know that blue balls are a serious medical condition. Do they not teach that curriculum these days?" Freddie interrupts our conversation as he pulls a shirt over his head.

"To be fair, I'm not quite yet a doctor," I reply with a serious face. "Perhaps they save that bit for the last day."

"Maybe Rog can come in and be a life-sized example of what happens when--"

"Mary, could you do something about him?" Roger calls over to the blonde woman, who is deep in conversation with John. "Maybe a muzzle?"

Roger and Freddie start to bicker with Mary playing referee. Somewhere between all the banter, Roger and I manage to agree that we'll have dinner the night before Queen leaves for the UK tour.

But, like all things between the two of us, that's easier said than done.