Somebody To Love (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor fanfic)

thirty eight

"My, it is cold out there," Morag huffed, taking off her coat and wordlessly handing it to Roger as she walked over to Rebecca.

"Well?" she asked, opening her arms, "Aren't you going to say hello?"

Roger hung up her coat, "Merry Christmas, Morag."

"You too, Richard," she hummed and John, obviously hearing her, choked on his drink.

"It's Roger," he muttered as Morag moved into the living room.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca whispered against his lips, hand on his cheek as she made him look at her.

"Doesn't even sound the same."

"I know," she kissed him softly, "I'll talk to her, yeah?"

"Don't bother."

He disappeared back into the kitchen and Rebecca sighed.

This was going to be a long day.

||-||

The third and final disaster of the day, came when they were all just waiting for the chicken to cook.

They were all sat in the living room, and although he shouldn't, Roger rather enjoys the uncomfortable expression on her mum's face as she sits between Brian and John, who are having an intense conversation about the name for their next album.

It was her own fault for intruding uninvited on their dinner.

They've all had a good couple of drinks and as the day has gone on, they've gotten louder and louder.

As she gets herself another glass of wine, her mum finally escapes Brian's conversation about his favourite constellations, following her into the small kitchen and she leans back against the worktop after peering into the oven.

"You need to open it to check it," Morag said quietly but Rebecca shakes her head.

"Roger knows what he's doing."

The way she says it makes her mum raise an eyebrow but she doesn't say anything else about it.
"So," Morag leans on the worktop opposite her, "Sophie tells me that you've Biba."

Rebecca groaned quietly. How the fuck did Sophie know? She hadn't spoken to her in who knows how long, "How does she know?"

"She popped in to see you and someone called Linda told her you quit. I thought you said you were doing something you enjoyed."

"I was," she nodded, glancing through the open door to the boys, which made her smile, "But I got a better offer."

Her mum raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, "Which is what?"

"Rebecca's the band's stylist," Deaky said as he came into the kitchen to grab another drink, casually throwing his arm around her shoulders as he gestured to the outfit he was currently wearing, "She put this snazzy little ensemble together for me in Penzance. She's got a gift. She can even make Brian look like a rockstar."

"I heard that!"

"He studied to be an astrophysicist," John explained to Morag as they all returned through to the living room, "Rather boring really."

"Not as boring as Rog though," Brian smirked while the blonde groaned.

"Not this again."

"What was it you were studying again?" John asked, "Dentistry, I think. Wasn't it Brian?"

"It was, yes." Brian played along as Rebecca took a seat on the arm of the armchair that Roger was sat in, "You were a dentist, weren't you?"

"I was never a dentist," he muttered, humming quietly when Rebecca started massaging his scalp.

"You kind of were."

"No, I wasn't."

Brian knows exactly what he's doing. Roger falls into the trap every time and soon, much to Morag's horror, they're hurling insults at each other while John is laughing and Rebecca is trying to calm the situation down.

She was starting to feel like their mum.

That's when the oven timer goes off but of course, not one person hears it over the rabble that's going on.

Roger is the one who smells the burning food first, practically leaping out of the chair, which startles his poor girlfriend and makes her spill wine down her shirt, and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

But it's too late.

||-||

"Oh my god,"

The chicken is burnt. Well, cremated is a better word for it and Brian's cranberry bake isn't much better.

Roger and Rebecca are staring at it. Just staring because this means that they are fucked.

There is no way to save that food.

"Don't you dare," Roger says when, out the corner of his eye, he sees her bottom lip trembling, "Bex, don't."

But she can't help it. The leaking, her mum turning up, this. It was all too much and before she knows it, there's a tear leaking from one of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to wipe the tears before he sees them but of course, he sees them anyway. 

"Becca," he sighed, wrapping an arm around her to bring her into his side, "It's okay."

"How can you say that?" she asked, "Rog, we have no food and five people to feed!"

"Relax," he whispered, kissing her forehead softly, "Look, I'll look in the fridge and see if there's anything. And we have the veggies, don't we?" 

He wiped a couple more tears away for her as she nodded. 

"What's taking so long in here?" John asked as he came through the door, "You haven't burnt it have you, Rog?"

The blonde glared at him as Rebecca started sobbing again and the young man held his hands up as he slowly backed out of the room. 

"Never mind."

Roger muttered something under his breath as she hid her face in his jumper. 

A couple of minutes later, when he manages to calm her down once more, he did as he said he would and moved to look in the fridge. 

"Anything?" Rebecca asked, wiping away the last of her tears and he looked over his shoulder at her.

"How does chicken sandwiches sound?"