Body Language. Queen

In Deep Shit.

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?