Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

2. Roger

"You two know each other?" Brian asks, confused. I could ask you the very same question, mate.

Skylar glowers at me, the pissed off look in her eyes making her look like some sort of avenging angel. Freddie takes it upon himself to address her in a tone that's both jovial and weary, as if he's said this sort of thing a thousand times before.

"Darling, if you and Roger had, um, relations, and he forgot to ring afterward, he's sorry. He's deeply apologetic. But it's not his fault, really, it's just his genetic make-up." Then, he winks at her. "Though, to be fair, I certainly would have phoned a lovely thing like yourself."

"Oh, fuck off," she says, taking both him and me by surprise. Freddie opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Skylar turns back towards me. I finally manage to extricate myself from Susan/Suzanne's grasp and stand up, putting a hand lightly on Skylar's arm.

"Skylar, let's go have a chat--" I say softly, just wanting to make things right, but I'm interrupted by Freddie's cackle. 

"Don't tell me that you're the mysterious Skylar from so many years ago?" Freddie's eyes are wide and delighted; he couldn't sound more overjoyed if he tried. "Well, fuck, darling, Roger rung up half of London looking for you. Frankly, I was impressed with his dedication, but now I can see why he was so committed to the search."

Bloody. Hell.

"What?" she asks, confused, as she looks from Freddie to me, then over to Brian, and then back to me. I avoid her eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor in utter embarrassment. What the fuck is Freddie doing? Surely this goes against some sort of man code. Beside me, Susan/Suzanne makes a little scoffing noise and traipses off to the bar.

"Wait, you're Roger's Skylar?" Brian asks, surprised.

"I'm not Roger's anything," she replies, looking affronted at the idea. 

"--And I thought Rog was going to murder his sister, the poor thing, after that whole misunderstanding at the wedding," Freddie continues his monologue in earnest.

"His... sister?" Skylar asks. 

"And then for weeks, it was all 'Skylar' this and 'Skylar' that. I mean, really, darling--" Freddie looks across the pub and spots his girlfriend. "Mary! This is Skylar! You remember the girl that Roger-- well, look! She's here!"

"Oh, belt up, Fred," I finally hiss, glaring at my best friend. He rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to peck a bewildered Skylar on the cheek. She stands frozen, staring at the lot of us.

"I like her already!" he proclaims grandly. He saunters over and tries to ruffle my hair, but I fend off his approach and direct an icy glare his way.

"Don't fuck it up, Rog," he sings with a cheeky grin before flouncing over to join Mary at a table across the room. "Wanker," I mutter under my breath. Brian takes the hint and hurriedly escapes to the safety of a pretty blonde standing by the bar.

Skylar and I stand facing each other, unsure of what to say. I still don't quite understand what I'm walking into, but she's not happy, that's for sure. And she now knows that I basically stalked her a few years ago. Fuck, this is embarrassing.

"Hi?" she says finally, her eyes softening slightly.

"Hi," I reply softly, finally daring to look her in the eye. She gazes up at me from beneath her long lashes and, I swear to you, my breath hitches like I'm 14, and this is the first girl I've ever laid eyes on.

"It was... your sister? At the wedding?" Her voice is hesitant and quiet, and she sounds much less American than the last time I saw her.

"It was my sister," I confirm with a nod. "My sister, who has terrible timing and apparently doesn't look quite enough like me."

"Ah," she replies, her eyes unreadable. "Well, sorry for assuming. And also for yelling at you in front of your friends."

"It's alright," I reply. "Do-- do you want to get a drink?" I gesture over to the bar where Susan/Suzanne is eyeing us suspiciously. Skylar hesitates as if debating the offer but then shakes her head.

"Thanks, but I have to head home. Early day tomorrow."

"Skylar--"

"Good to see you, Roger. It was a really great show tonight. Take care of yourself." She hesitantly clasps my forearm and gives it a little squeeze.

And then, in a repeat of what happened four years ago, she turns and is immediately swallowed by the crowd. I debate running after her, but what would that solve? She clearly has no interest in me. Cursing my rotten luck, I walk back towards the bar to order another drink.

As I pass Freddie's table, I thump him lightly on the back of his head. "Hey!" he cries out, affronted, before realizing that it's just me.

"Oh, helllllllo, Rog. Where's your young lady?" he croons with a wink.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Fred."

"Oh, stop being so tetchy, Rog. I've done you a favor. I'm your own personal Yenta, darling. It'll all work out, you'll see."