Rebecca isn't sure that touring is for her.
Yes, she loves being able to travel with her friends and Roger, loves being able to see all these different places that before, she could only dream of but god, it's exhausting.
And she feels rotten even thinking this, but it is. The constant moving around from place to place, the time stuck on buses and planes and the not being able to sleep from people snoring on the bus.
It's tiring.
And she doesn't even do anything to deserve feeling this way. Compared to the band, who go out every night and give it all to each and every show, she does nothing. She does hair and makeup for them and then gets to sit and relax backstage or in the wings.
It's not like touring in the UK. There's vast distances to cover and different time zones that wreak havoc with her body clock, even if it is just an hours difference.
Roger doesn't really realise the toll it's having on her until they're in Waterbury, Connecticut, in some club that's playing music with a thumping bass line and she still somehow manages to fall asleep and he doesn't notice that she has until her drink, which she was still holding, spills onto his white dress shirt.
He feels immensely guilty. He's her boyfriend and is supposed to take care of her but he's been too wrapped up in this bubble of being a rockstar to notice.
So, the next night, the night of the gig, when she's about to start getting ready, he catches her before she can disappear into the bathroom for her shower.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" he asks, reaching out to push some hair behind her ear.
"What?" she breathes, frowning, "No. I'm gonna come I-"
"You're exhausted, love." he whispers, "Fell asleep on us twice last night."
"I was just resting my eyes."
"Rebecca," he laughed, "The next table heard your snoring."
He winced when she smacked his arm, "I don't snore!"
"I'm kidding," he murmured, pulling her into his chest, "But you do. Just little cute ones though."
Huffing, she dropped her head to his shoulder, "I don't want to miss your show."
"It's okay to miss one." he tells her, "Hannah's still here so she can help us get ready."
"The last time Hannah did your makeup you yelled at her. Can't do that this time."
Laughing, he nuzzles his nose into her hair, "I know. I won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"What will I even do?" she pouts and he turns her around and walks her into the bathroom, where he wraps his arms around her middle.
"You could have a bubble bath?" he murmurs, "There's some stuff under the sink there. Or you could order some room service. Treat yourself a little bit?"
"But the guys-"
"Will understand," he promises, kissing her cheek.
She did feel awful about missing out on a gig but the thought of having a bath in the large tub and then having that huge bed to herself for a while was very, very tempting.
"Alright," she finally relents, "You've convinced me. Will of you be going out afterwards?"
He shrugs, "Might have a couple but I won't be out long."
"Roger," she laughs, "If you want to stay out, that's fine. You know I don't mind." She presses a kiss to his lips for good luck, even though she knows that doesn't need it, "You'd better go. Mr May will murder you if you're late."
||-|| (there is smut in this little bit)
Roger comes back to the room at around eleven thirty, quietly pushing the door open and he squints towards the bed to see the person like shape under the covers.
He'd returned to see if Rebecca was up to see if she wanted to go to the after party together but she was still fast asleep.
He couldn't wake her.
And since they've hardly any time together, he decides to blow the whole thing off and stay here with her instead - even if she is sleeping.
He silently moves around the room, taking off his stupid dress shirt that Freddie demanded he put on after the show and tossing it onto a chair before he digs his cigarettes from his pocket and heads for the balcony, picking up one of the miniature bottles of wine that she'd obviously taken out of the small fridge.
The cool breeze hitting her face from the open doors is what makes Rebecca stir, her eyes fluttering open to a dark room and for a second, she thinks someone may have possibly climbed in through the balcony doors but then she sees Roger leaning up against the railing and she relaxes, sitting up to run a hand through her hair.
Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she sees that it's eleven 45, considerably early in the evening. Well, by Roger's standards it is and she gets up, tiptoeing over to the door, where she leans against the frame and just looks at him.
She knows that smoking is bad for him and she should try and get him to stop but god, he just looks so good doing it and unable to wait any more, she steps out onto the balcony, making sure to tie her dressing gown shut against the chilly air.
He doesn't startle when she wraps her arms around his torso, resting her head on his back between his shoulders though he does shiver when she presses a kiss to his skin.
She's soft and still warm from sleep and he takes one final drag of his cigarette before tossing it off of the balcony and resting his hands on top of hers.
"Hi," she murmurs, "Thought you'd be out later."
"Couldn't be arsed. And I missed you, didn't I?"
"Sap," she teased, stepping back slightly so he can turn to look at her and immediately, his eyes move down to what she's wearing and she sees his tongue flick over his lips.
"Hope you're wearing something under that," he says, reaching out a hand to take a peek and she jumps away from him.
Rebecca gets an idea and moves her hand to where the tie is, looking up at him briefly to see that his eyes are glued to her hand.
"Come on, Bex," he says, voice husky, "Don't be a tease."
"Maybe you should come see," she grins and pulls gently at the tie.
He steps forward, making her step back and a grin matches hers when he does it again, she does the same.
Rebecca smirks, the two of them having a standoff and there's a brief moment of complete and utter silence.
It's been a while since they've done this. Sure, there's been some heavy petting in the back of cars on their way back from pubs and clubs but they're always interrupted. But not tonight. Not this time.
When she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip, that's it. That's when Roger crashes his lips against hers.
It's searing, one that takes all of the breath from her lungs as he bats her hand away from where it's still resting on the dressing gown's tie.
Slowly, teasingly, he pulls it undone and pulls away, causing her to whine.
"Not of that," he whispers, "Wanna have a look at you."
He's said it before and he'll say it again but Rebecca is truly beautiful - she always is but there's something about the way she looks with messy hair and swollen lips, standing there in nothing but a pretty set of underwear that drives him mad.
"Beautiful."
"Rog-" she tries to speak but he silences her with his lips once more, one large hand resting on her hip while the other slides into her hair to gently tip her head back.
Rebecca runs her hand down his front; feeling his heartbeat against her fingertips and down to the firmness of his torso.
"Gonna make love to you," he whispers, slowly pushing the fabric from her shoulders and she shivers when the cool air hits her newly exposed skin, "Gonna make you feel so good,"
She practically jumps at him when he comes forward again, eagerly wrapping her legs around his waist as he presses his lips against hers once more; nipping and biting as he carries her toward the bed.
He gently throws her down onto it and while she scrambles to get comfortable against the pillows, he takes the time to pull off his jeans and boxers.
She watches, biting her lip as he crawls at an agonising pace up the bed toward her.
"These," he whispers, pulling at the elastic of her underwear gently, "I reckon these can come off, yeah?"
She nods, letting out a yelp when he lets it snap against her skin, "Ow! You're such an arse sometimes!"
He laughs softly as he taps her leg to get her to raise her hips so he can slide the garment down off her and he tosses it off to the side.
Rebecca squirms as he kisses up the inside of her thigh and a tentative kiss being placed on her slit makes her hips jolt.
He doesn't spend long down there; just delves his tongue in for a quick taste before he's kissing up her body.
"Rog, not that I don't love this," she breathes when he reaches her lips again, "But can you please do somethi-okay,"
He slips a finger into her warmth, watching as her head falls back, a small whimper leaving her as he sucks the skin of her neck.
"How's that?" he asks and she turns her head toward him, moaning when he adds a second finger, "That good?"
She grinds herself against his fingers and nods. "Yes," she breathes, "Good."
He watches her for a couple of seconds, enjoying how it's him that's making her face screw up in pleasure, how it's his name she's whispering as he continues to move his fingers gently. When his finger brushes a spot inside her and she makes a noise he's never heard her make before and he stills.
"Do that again," she pleads, "God, Roger, please."
He swipes his finger across the same spot, marvelling how her back arches off the bed and he grins, slinking down her body once more, "What do we have here, hm?"
"Don't be a prat," she tries to groan but at that moment the pad of Roger's fingertip grazed the sensitive spot deep inside her once more and she called out hoarsely.
"Fuck," she swore and squeezed her eyes shut in pleasure as he fingered the spot repeatedly. His tongue flicked at her clit and it was game over. She came loudly, a mix of incoherent curses and Roger's name.
Rebecca hides her face with her hands as he presses soft kisses to her hip, trying to steady her breathing and when she looks down at him, he gives her a smug grin.
"You..."
He laughs and moves up the bed so he's looking down on her, reaching out a hand to push some of her damp hair from her face, "Hope you don't think that's all I have planned for you, love. We're in for a long night."
And Rebecca doesn't think she minds that at all.