#poly!queen week

Summary: Roger joins Queen and realizes that means more than just joining a band. 

Prompt: One of the boys is struggling with mental illness, and the other three are there to support them.

Rating T: for totally tame

Pairing: John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Brian May & Eventually John Deacon/Freddie Mercury/Brian May/Roger Taylor

Words: 2505

Also on Ao3

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Roger groaned into the pillow, cracking one eye open to find only the chill darkness of his bedroom.  He reached over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, swiping a finger across the screen.  It was barely 3am. 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered to himself.  He’d hoped he would make it until daybreak.  This time he’d slept only a few hours.  The night before had only been marginally better. 

He flopped back into bed, swiping through to access the calendar on his phone. There, in stark white against a black background was the appointment for his audition for a new band.  “5:30,” he spoke in the quiet.  “I’ll feel bloody awful with no sleep,” he said to no one. 

And you’ll play awful, too, a little voice within him whispered.  But that was just the beginning of his doubts, as a tidal wave of anxieties began to assault him from all directions…insecurities about his drumming, his intellect, even his looks.  He pressed his palms against his ears to will them quiet before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 

Getting up would help.  It always did.  He could never rest in bed unless he was sleeping.  He had to be moving.  Always had to be moving. 

Roger padded to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  On the counter lay his bag from the pharmacy.  He frowned at it, then headed into the living room where he sagged against the couch where he drifted into a fitful sleep.

When he woke up, it was half past nine, and he was late for art appreciation.  He hurriedly scooped up his things and ran off to class. 

The school day passed in a whirlwind…a dizzying array of lecture after lecture that left Roger drained and no less informed.  He had trouble concentrating, and the lack of sleep only made things worse. 

Before he realized it, it was nearing 5:30 and he was both wired from anxiety and dead on his feet.  He popped into an on campus coffee shop for a quick shot of caffeine, hoping it would equalize him somewhat. 

That bitter liquid made him jittery, but gave him the energy he needed to hold his eyes open.  He tossed the cup and made his way over to the rehearsal hall where the auditions would be held. 

He stood in front of the large double doors, his sticks in his back pocket.  A cold sweat sprang out over his entire body, and he could feel a blush creep up his chest.  It became harder to breathe, and he began to pray to God or whoever was listening “not now, please not now” as he felt the tell-tale signs of a panic attack.  He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he would be playing soon, and playing music was the only thing that ever truly helped. 

The double doors opened, cool air dusting his overheated skin.  A tall, curly-haired man greeted him, a kind smile on his face.  “Hi mate.  You must be here to audition.” 

Roger still couldn’t speak, so he just held up his sticks, a wry grin on his face.  He’d gotten very good at faking it over the years. 

“Come on in then…meet the boys.”  The man gestured him inside the small auditorium space, and Roger’s eyes immediately settled on the very nice drumset setup…the drumset he would soon be playing. His throat began to relax. 

“I’m Brian, by the way.  And this is John and Freddie.” 

Roger turned around, surveying the remaining men.  They were all…beautiful.  He wished he had another word for them, but it was true.  It was as if they had all been grown on some freakishly experimental farm where only amazingly good looking people are produced.  He felt sorely out of place. 

“Roger,” he half croaked.  “My name’s Roger.” 

“Lovely,” one of them spoke.  He had the blackest hair Roger had ever seen, and it shined like a mirror.  “How long have you been drumming, darling?” 

Roger stood a little straighter.  “Since I was a kid.”

The other man, Roger believed his name was John, the one with the long brown hair and cute bum (yes, he’d looked), smiled at him sweetly.  “Let’s see what you’ve got Roger.”

Without another word, Roger crossed to the drumset, settling behind it.  Instantly, all of his anxieties melted away.  A peace fell over him, and for a moment he felt like the only person in the room.  He set about tuning the drums. 

Brian frowned at him.  “What are you doing?” 

Roger looked at him curiously.  “Tuning them?  They’re really out mate.  Have people been playing them like this all day?” 

Brian looked at the others with an interesting expression, and then simply watched Roger as he made quick work of tuning the drums.  Then he began his audition. 

Roger quickly became lost in the music, lost in the way his body became an instrument to produce sound, how he could feel the vibrations of the drums through his hands, reverberating in his ears...with his lightning fast rhythms he created a wall of sound rising through the small auditorium that left the three men watching a little breathless. 

Roger finished his solo, holding up his sticks and finally realizing he was back in the auditorium space.  He’d been so lost in the music he’d forgotten himself for a moment.  He looked up to see Brian, John, and Freddie staring at him, a bit of wonder on their faces. 

Instantly, Roger became anxious. Was that good enough?  Did he make a mistake?  How did it even sound?  The old insecurities came rushing back, self-doubt and anxiety a trusted friend that would never leave him. 

Brian cleared his throat, interrupting his racing thoughts. 

“Thank you Roger.  Can we uh…have a few moments alone?”

Roger paled.  “Yeah, sure,” he said quickly.  That’s it you really fucked it up you really blew it “I’ll just be outside,” he said to the three of them. 

He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest.  He needed a cigarette, but he was certain he couldn’t smoke inside the building.  He began thinking about what he would do when he went home.  Go to bed, his inner voice supplied.  Go to bed and forget this day ever happened.  Roger agreed. 

Roger sat for a few more moments before the door to the auditorium hall opened and John poked his head out.  He smiled sweetly, and Roger noticed for the first time he had a cute little tooth gap.  No use noticing now, he thought.  I’ll never see any of these chaps again. 

He walked in with his sticks in his hand, facing the three of them.  He shuffled his feet a bit, suddenly interested in the toes of his sparkly Converse. 

“Welcome to Queen,” Freddie said dramatically. 

Roger’s head shot up, and he blinked a few times, not understanding. 

Brian laughed.  “You’re in.  We love you.  Now let’s go to the pub and celebrate.” 

---

Roger didn’t really do public places well, but he went along with his new friends because it was really important to him that he didn’t disappoint them.  So he sat in a booth at the Lucky Horseshoe nursing a beer and hedging questions about himself. 

“What are you studying,” John asked.  His hair was more of a golden brown than a dark brown, and Roger wanted to run his fingers through it.  “Um, Biology,” he said a little tight-lipped. 

“Do you like it?” 

Roger shrugged.  He really hated himself, how boring he was.  Maybe if he drank some more beer he could be engaging like Freddie, Freddie with the beautiful kohl-lined eyes who was laughing, high and sweet.  Or maybe he could be charming like Brian, with the lustrous curls and pretty hands who was talking about the stars.  God, he was boring as hell.

“It’s ok,” he elaborated, but not by much.  Come on Rog…try.  “I um, wanted to be a dentist, but that didn’t work out.”

John smiled at him, and something warm spooled in his gut.  “And why is that love?” 

Roger found himself smiling back.  “Too many maths.”

Brian overheard him, and placed a hand on his arm.  Where he touched him was warm and a bit rough…Roger could feel the callouses where Brian played the guitar, and it sent a thrill through him.  He shifted a bit in his seat. 

“Love, if you need help with maths, all you have to do is ask,” Brian said sweetly.  He smelled of beer and of something uniquely him, like cinnamon and earth. 

Freddie smiled, his toothy grin stretching over his soft plum lips.  “Brian here is our resident genius.”  Freddie teased a finger over Brian’s thin arm, rubbing it softly, and Roger’s mouth fell open.  “Our little astrophysicist.” 

Roger swallowed.  Could they be together?  The thought sent him spiraling.  They certainly would make a beautiful couple.  A pang of jealousy shot through him.  Why couldn’t he ever get someone to love him like that? 

Because you’re ugly. 

His eyes welled with tears, but he hid them behind his mug of beer. 

Brian grabbed Freddie’s hand, playfully toying with his fingers.  “Not yet, darling.  But one day.  Besides, what would I do without my artist and my engineer?” 

John grinned widely, falling into Freddie as he rested his head on his shoulder.  He nuzzled him softly and then planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  Roger gasped quietly, eyes wide.  He had it wrong.  They all were together. 

And you’re the odd man out. 

Roger clenched his fist to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay, but more often than not, they won. 

Freddie nuzzled John back, his eyes locking on Roger.  “So you got tired of dentistry dear…I don’t blame you.  So what do you plan to do with your degree?”

Roger’s hand tightened on his mug.  “I uh, haven’t decided.” 

Brian touched him again, this time on the shoulder, and a shiver went through him.  “There’s nothing wrong with that love.  You’ve got plenty of time.”

John tipped his mug until it was empty.  “Well you’re one hell of a drummer,” John said a little drunkenly.  “You could always do that.” 

Roger blushed, looking down like he always did whenever anyone complimented him. 

Freddie playfully slapped John on the arm.  “You’ve gone and embarrassed him now Deaky.  And he’s so pretty when he blushes.” 

You look like a tomato when you blush.

“You don’t have to say that,” Roger said hurriedly. 

Freddie just blinked.  “Say what dear?  That you’re attractive?  I bloody well might.  You’re fucking gorgeous.” 

“Freddie—“ Brian began.

“No, Brian…looks like our friend here might need to hear it.” 

Roger wished the pub floor would open up and take him into hell.  His face was burning, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

Freddie reached across the table and tipped his chin up.  “Roger, darling.  Look at me.” 

Roger managed to look up, his lip trembling. 

“You know how beautiful you are?  Hmm?  And I’m not talking about just on the outside, darling, but on the inside too.  I know we just met but I can tell you’re a good person.” 

Roger couldn’t stop the tears from flowing hotly down his face, and Freddie wiped them with his thumb.  He sniffed miserably, trying to keep his head up under Freddie’s gaze. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” John added, his little tooth gap flashing. 

“So do I,” Brian said, warm calloused fingers wrapping around his arm. 

No intrusive thoughts opposed. 

---

The next day Roger couldn’t get out of bed.  It’s not that he didn’t want to; he knew he had school, and he needed to eat and shower and he had band practice, but a heavy blackness had settled over him, sucking his energy and will to do anything other than sleep.  So that’s what he did. 

Until a knock came at the door.  Several knocks, actually, and since the door was unlocked, they came right in. 

Freddie, John and Brian entered Roger’s flat with worried expressions on their faces.  When Roger refused to return their calls and messages, they decided to go check on him where they had dropped him off from the pub the night before.  But as they entered the flat, all was quiet. 

The flat was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the living room.  There were no dishes in the sink, however suggesting Roger hadn’t been eating properly.  And there was a bag of medicine from a week ago that hadn’t been touched. 

“Found him!” Freddie cried out from a back bedroom as he stood over Roger’s sleeping form.  He had the covers pulled up tight, and his blond hair was messily spread over the pillow. 

Brian stood over Roger, shaking him gently.  “Roger…Roger…it’s us.  Are you ok?”

“Leave me alone,” Roger grumbled.  “I just want to sleep.” 

John came in with the bag of medicine.  “Are you supposed to be taking these pills Roger?  They were filled a week ago.” 

Roger focused on the young man holding his bag of medicine, and he became suddenly angry.  “Fuck off!” he cried out.  “I didn’t ask for you to be in my personal business like this!” 

Brian soothed the hair back from his forehead, the seething, spitting Roger shrinking back from his touch. 

“Ah, love you are our business now.  You’re in our circle.  We care about you whether you like it or not.  Now let’s get you sat up so you can have a bit of food, yeah?” 

Roger scowled at him.  “I don’t want anything, Brian.  I don’t want you here. I just want to be left alone.” 

John sat down on the edge of the bed.  “I know you do.  But that’s not what you need right now.” 

Roger crossed his arms, looking at John defiantly.  “And how do you know what I need?” 

John looked at him sympathetically.  “Because these prescriptions are for anxiety and depression love, and being alone only makes those worse.” 

Brian leaned over and kissed his head, and Roger’s frown dissipated, his face going lax under Brian’s gentle touch. 

Freddie had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and some juice, and he set it on a tray over Roger’s lap. He kissed him on the cheek.  “When you’re feeling better, we’ll go out properly, but for right now, this is a start.  Eat all of it darling.  It was made with love.” 

John stepped forward with a pill bottle.  “And after your sandwich, you’re gonna take this medicine.  And you’ll do the same thing every day.  Eat. Take medicine.  Repeat.” 

Roger looked up, his eyes large.  “Why are you doing this?”

Freddie smiled.  “Because you’re one of us now darling.”  He moved to put an arm around John and Brian, pulling them close.  “And we always take care of our own.”

My contribution to Poly!Queen Week 2019

A client at the strip club asks for a lap dance from Brian.

Day 2 of Poly!Queen week - Roleplay

pairing: Brian May/Roger Taylor/John Deacon/Freddie Mercury

//So it has! Unfortunately I don't have anything special planned for it, as Poly!Queen doesn't belong to my main interests in the fandom(not that i don't love reading it *coughcough*)

But if you have any headcanons/prompts you'd like me to write for it, i'm game! I have absolutely nothing against poly!Queen, I just can't conjure up any ideas of my own for it♥️

Have a great week everyone! //

Summary: Roger needs glasses, but getting him to wear them takes some convincing.  

Rating E: Everyone be aware here be smut

Pairing: It’s poly week ya’ll

Words 1970

Also on Ao3

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“Darling, if you bounce your leg any harder, you’re going to drill a hole though the bloody floor.”

Roger huffed, tensing even as Freddie placed a calming hand on his thigh.  His appointment was at 2:30.  It was 2:15.

Brian was flipping through a magazine while John ticked boxes on the extensive new patient paperwork that Roger had refused to do.  Among the four of them, they filled nearly every chair in the tiny waiting room of the optometrist’s office.

“Double vision?”  John asked softly.  The pencil hovered over the page, awaiting Roger’s answer.

“No,” he ground out.

“He just can’t see things far away I think,” Freddie added, a soothing hand on the seething blond’s back.

“Or close up,” Brian piped up.  “What about the sheet music from practice the other day?  Poor dear played all the wrong notes.”

Roger shirked off Freddie’s hand, twisting in his seat to face Brian.  “Would you stop talking about me like I’m not bloody here?  There’s nothing wrong with my eyes!  Besides, you don’t need the sheet music when you know all the songs.”  He held his head in frustration.  “This whole business has given me the worst headache.”

John tapped the pencil against his teeth, searching the symptom sheet for headaches and quietly checking it.