“Yeah, ‘course.” He quickly marked his place in his book and set it aside as Freddie closed the door behind him.

Roger sat up a little straighter in bed and pulled his legs beneath him to make space for Freddie to sit. He watched as Freddie did so and wrung his hands together anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” Dozens of possible scenarios flashed through Roger’s mind.

Freddie stared at the duvet on the bed, hair falling in his face as he picked at a loose thread absentmindedly and said, “Am I…am I damaged goods?”

Roger blinked, “What?”

“Am I unlovable? Am I…”

“No–” Roger put a hand on Freddie’s knee. “No, Fred. Fuck, what’s making you ask these things?”

Roger didn’t miss the tears rolling down Freddie’s cheek; he ached to reach out and brush them away. Instead, he gave Freddie’s knee a comforting squeeze while he listened.

“That guy I was seeing had some things to say to me…about me, when he– when he broke up with me.”

Roger thought that seeing, in all its vagueness, was still too generous a word for the way that guy had been stringing Freddie along.

“He’s an aresehole, Fred.” Roger bit his tongue in time to leave out the like I’ve said before, that was the last thing Freddie needed to hear.

To his surprise, Freddie nodded, “I know. I know.”

“He’s wrong, Freddie. Whatever he said to you, he doesn’t know you, doesn’t see you the way you deserve to be seen.”

“I am a lot of work, though,” Freddie murmured as he looked up at Roger for the first time. “Too much work, apparently.”

This time, Roger couldn’t stop himself. He leaned forward a little, gently taking Freddie’s head in his hands and brushing his thumbs over the tear tracks staining Freddie’s cheeks as their eyes locked.

“Not for me.”

Silence stretched in the room as Freddie’s eyes widened a fraction.

Roger swallowed thickly, “Not for Brian. Not for John.”

Freddie screwed his eyes shut and jerked away from Roger’s touch, leaving Roger scrambling to figure out what he’d said wrong.

“Don’t play with me, Rog, not now.” Freddie rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there were fresh tears falling. “One of you, maybe I could believe that. But not all of you. Come on.”

Roger’s heart broke, “Freddie…you’re beautiful. Inside and out. You’re kind and generous. You’re funny as hell, and you know how to have a good time. You’re thoughtful and talented, and…”

Roger hesitated for a second, but he’d started down this path, and now he wanted to see it through. “And is it any wonder that the three of us are falling in love with you?”

The heartbreak in Freddie’s eyes had changed to confusion. More importantly, Roger saw a small spark of hope in them.

“In love…with me? You know that for a fact?”

Roger nodded, flashing him a smile, “Bri and Deaky told me themselves.”

“Why hasn’t anyone said anything?!”

“You’ve not been single long enough lately for any of us to get a bloody word in!” Roger laughed.

“You’re sure?”

“God, yes! What do I have to do to prove it? Kiss you?”

He kept his tone light, but to Roger, this was the most serious proposition he’d ever made. He was surprised to see a blush spreading on Freddie’s cheeks. Fredie gave him a shy smile as he caught his eye.

“Would you?”

Roger beamed and took Freddie’s head between his hands again, lightly running his thumbs along Freddie’s cheekbones. They met each other halfway, and Roger couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

It was comfortable, like they’d been doing this together all their lives. There was no awkwardness of trying to figure out how to move against each other. Freddie deepened the kiss, and Roger responded, opening his mouth and letting Freddie take what he needed.

They were panting by the time they pulled apart, and Roger grinned.

“Should we go find John and Brian in the sitting room and tell them the good news? They might want to get in on the celebration.”