Somebody To Love (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor fanfic)

thirty five

i want to say thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter. you guys really made me feel better about it. it's given me a wee confidence boost so thank you 😊

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"John, I swear if you fucking drop that..."

Today was moving in day for Roger and somehow, he had managed to convince the band to help him, along with Hannah and Mary.

Rebecca was walking up the stairs behind them, carrying one of the tom-tom drums and a cymbal while John and Roger carried the snare.

Roger had done as she asked -thought about the storage across the road and he'd even said he'd go see it first.

It didn't go well; there were holes in the roof, no locks on any of the unit's doors and when Rebecca saw a rat that she swore was the size of one of her handbags, she agreed that the kit could be moved into the flat.

"Where do you want this?" John asked before making Roger put it down, "Here? Perfect."

"Wanker," Roger muttered as Rebecca closed the door behind her to stop any of her nosy neighbours looking in and when she turned around, she groaned at the state of the flat.

There were boxes everywhere; his clothes, his books, dishes and there were three just for records alone.

"Think you're going to need a bigger place, mate." Brian said from his spot on the couch, "How are you going to fit all those clothes in there?"

He had a point.

"We'll be fine," Roger mumbled, wrapping his arms around Rebecca, resting his chin on her shoulder, "Won't we, love?"

"There are so many boxes," she almost whimpered, "I can't see the floor."

"Bet you're wishing you knew he had all this shit, huh?" John snickered, coming through carrying a tray with cups of tea on it, glaring at Roger when he swiped at him, "Oi, you want me to burn myself?"

"Deaky, sit down," Freddie instructed before looking at the two of them, "Now, when you're all settled in, you're going to have us over, right?"

Rebecca looked over her shoulder at Roger, who nodded in encouragement, "Go on."

"Well, I was thinking that maybe, I know most of you are going home for Christmas but Brian, Roger told me that you're staying in London and if you wanted to come here for dinner, we'd love to have you. I mean, we're not doing anything big. Right, Rog?"

"Nope."

"Oh," the guitarist gave them a bright smile, "That'd be great. Thanks, Becca."

She beamed back at him before looking at everyone else, "We will have a proper night with everyone else too, Freddie."

"Thank god you said that, darling."

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It was around six-thirty when everybody finally left; leaving Roger and Rebecca to start the horrible job of unpacking.

Before they'd gone, Brian, Freddie and John had helped move all of the drums into the bedroom and while she was unpacking his records and such, he went through to assemble them.

Humming along to the radio, she decided that she'd unpack the dishes he had brought but when she opened the box, she was shocked to see that everything - except one horrible mustard yellow mug - had been smashed.

"Oh my god."

"Hm?" Roger appeared in the doorway, "Did you say something, love?"

"Um, how much did you like those dishes, Rog?" she asked, giving him a very forced smile.

"Why?" he came to stand beside her, peering into the box and he immediately frowned, "Arsehole."

"What? Who?"

"Brian," he muttered, "I knew he bloody dropped it."

"You can't be sure that he did this," Rebecca frowned, "I mean, this could have happened on the drive over. Though I'm not really surprised. You didn't even wrap them up."

She reached in to pick out the salvageable mug but he stopped her, "Careful. You'll cut yourself." Rolling her eyes, she let him get it for her, "Put the box by the door and I'll take it out in the morning."

"Okay," she mumbled and he ruffled her hair before disappearing back into the bedroom.

Sometime later, when she got bored of sorting records into alphabetical order, Rebecca made the two of them some tea, making sure to put Roger's in that horrible yellow mug.

He looks up when she comes into the bedroom, a soft smile settling on his lips when he sees the two steaming mugs in her hand.

"Here you go," Rebecca announced, handing him his, "Your first cup of tea as an official resident of the Jackson-Taylor flat."

"Thank you," he said as she sat cross-legged in front of him, "Though why can't it be Taylor-Jackson?"

"Because it was my flat first and it's alphabetical." she replied, sticking her tongue out and he still sits there with the same smile on his face, "What are you grinning at?"

"Just can't believe we're doing this," he murmured, "I've never done this before. It's exciting."

"It is," she agreed, "Just hope you don't get sick of me."

"Sick of you?" he shook his head, leaning across to kiss her, "Could never happen. Did you finish the records?"

She shook her head and looked around the room, "Got bored. Thought I'd come watch you instead."

She hadn't noticed when she came in but noticed that when he said he was going to push the bed back, he wasn't joking. It was right against the wall which meant that one of them, would be sleeping underneath the window that was jammed open.

"I'm almost done here, so we can try and work out where we can put my clothes for now."

"Well, just leave them for tonight and tomorrow, I'll clear some space in my wardrobe and we can hang them up."

"You're the boss," he wasn't going to argue. He was knackered.

She smiled at him, "Yes I am."

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Surprisingly, Roger went to bed first that night, leaving Rebecca lying on the couch watching some comedy program on the TV but she found himself unable to keep her eyes open till the end and so with a yawn, she got up to shut it off and after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she made her way through to the bedroom.

He was still awake, sat up against the headboard as he scribbled in his notebook and she took note that he was on the left side of the bed.

"You've never slept on that side of the bed," she mumbled, moving to her dresser to take her earrings out, "You always slept on the other side."

"Yeah, but this side is closer to the door now," he said, putting the book down on the bedside table, "Feel like I need to sleep here now."

He saw her puzzled expression in the mirror, "Why?"

"It's a protection thing, innit? If a murderer comes in, they'll get me first."

"Jesus, Rog," she laughed, "That's a bit unlikely, is it not?"

"You never know love. This place is rough."

She scoffed. He was only saying that because this one night, he overheard a group of young guys fighting in the street, "If you say so, love."

He watched her get ready for bed, a smile tugging at his mouth when she automatically reached for the shirt he'd given her and when she got into a pair of pyjama bottoms, he gave the bed an inviting pat.

Giggling, she threw herself onto it, sighing happily when he covered her with the blankets, quickly shuffling herself closer to his warm body as he lay down beside her.

"This is what I was looking forward to," he hummed, "Falling asleep next to you every night."

"God," Rebecca laughed, "You're such a sap."

He didn't open his eyes, "You love it."