Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 28

Just like that, the end credits were rolling and Bernie had gotten up to turn a light back on. Roger's body felt icy without hers leaning on his and he wished they could stay exactly how they just were all night. Although that was actually a lie, because he was bursting for a wee and was glad for an opportunity to go without disturbing Bernie's comfort. In the time that he was gone, she refolded the blanket draping stylishly over the back of the sofa and realigned all the pillows. Mugs were taken through, the television was shut off and the room looked as if nobody had touched it all day. All in the five minute gap that Roger was gone for.

Although she was feeling about ready for bed, Roger's mind couldn't quite snap out of the mood he had acquired from Bernie more or less laying on him. Flirtatious and...something else. Weighing it up, he quickly decided that Bernie must have some form of feelings for him if she was willing to have him round and sit that close to him. From her perspective, nothing she had done was fuelled by her growing feelings for him, but by the need for companionship in a life where that did not exist for her. Everyone she met was either in a relationship, didn't have time for her, or both, so she greatly appreciated Roger for sticking around and being her friend.

"Thanks for coming over this evening, Roger," she smiled gratefully at him, innocently washing up the mugs and snack bowl, trying to make it clear that nothing she had done was because she liked him as more than a friend. She'd considered it multiple times, so the feelings were always simmering under the surface, but tonight meant nothing more than shutting Holden up.

"No problem, Bernie." Returning the smile, he came and stood behind her whilst she was washing up. So close that she could feel his hot breath on her neck and insanely soft hair tickle her face. His hands had taken a gentle hold of her waist and she went completely rigid. The feeling of his fingertips around her sent sparks shooting through her body, but she still didn't want his hands there, even if it did feel as good as hell to have him against her. Her heart told her to cave, but her mind was screaming overbearingly at her to get him off of her.

So in one swift move, she spun around to face him - big mistake, she could barely resist that gorgeous gaze of his - and pushed him away by with her wet hands. "What did I tell you earlier, Taylor?" The menace in her voice made him back down, wet handprints on his shoulders.

"I-I'm sorry Bernie...I thought-" he began, but she cut him off entirely. Which was just as well, he didn't think the answer of "I'm horny and want you" would be sufficient enough to get away without a feminist-induced rant. And feminist-induced rant he received regardless.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You think that just because I let you here for the night, that you can try and get in my knickers! I'm not like the tools you decide to sleep with, I have boundaries that extend further than wanting to shag the drummer of Queen simply because he is sexy and famous." Uh-oh. Another big mistake. Where Roger's eyes shone with innocence, a blackness came about them and he daringly took a step back towards her, her hands still dripping wet and now holding the wet sponge.

"You think I'm sexy, do you?" He almost whispered, peering down at her lips and then her eyes through his eyelashes. Bernie's heart pounded erratically in her chest, threatening to burst through the skin.

Taking a deep intake of air, she decided to just let loose. "Yes! Yes, I do, okay? Is that what you want to hear? But that doesn't mean I want to sleep with you, so if that's what you think you're here for then I'd rather you just left and I'll deal with Holden on my own." All of this was said exasperatedly in one breath. Then she turned back around and finished washing the bowl before drying her hands on the tea towel beside the sink mechanically.

Roger's presence suddenly seemed unwanted and heavy, and Bernie willed Flo to come home, but she wouldn't be back until the next afternoon.

"You know, you're quite cute when you're angry." The corner of Roger's mouth turned upwards into a smirk and Bernie's now dry palms went clammy with rage. There was no getting through to him whatsoever!

"UGH!" She cried, crossing her arms, her face reddening dauntlessly. "You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the slimiest person I've ever crossed paths with, and you've got to bear in mind the bastard I live next to. And to think I was beginning to enjoy your company. Just get out of my sight, I can't handle the sound of your voice right now," she flung her arms around aggressively as she spoke, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger, then stormed out of the kitchen with a sense of power.

In the kitchen, the sound of Bernie's bedroom door being slammed echoed around the entire flat and the silence that followed was enough to punish Roger. He'd pushed his luck and he knew it. Often, he forgot what she was capable of and her dramatic exit just proved that point. So, instead of making it worse by trying to coax her to come out straight away, he decided to give her her own time and dry the dishes for her. Whilst drying, he did something he wasn't prone to doing: he thought about his actions.

Bernie thought Roger was attractive. He also knew that she thought he could be a good person, demonstrated through his kindness throughout her healing period. If he hadn't have been so forward when he knew she didn't like it, perhaps he'd have more of a chance with her. Thus, as he knocked on her bedroom door, he pledged to be the person he should be towards her from that moment on.

"Bernie, please open the door." A bang. Roger flinched away, but put his head against the thin wooden door again, ignoring whatever it was that she threw at it from the other side. "Bernie, I'm sorry, okay? Now I'm only gunna say it once, so accept it." Much to his surprise, the door clicked open and out emerged Bernie. She didn't look like she'd been crying, in fact she looked even better than she did before, hair teased from her hands being raked through it and cheeks adorned with a gentle flush rather than full-on fuchsia. Despite this, she was still seething.

"Oh, you're sorry? And did you ever stop to think how I feel?"

"No. I'm openly admitting that and apologising for it. I should've thought about you more than my own cock."

Bernie milled this over for a moment. The livid tinge left her cheeks finally and she raised an eyebrow in contemplation. In reality, she had no idea what she was supposed to be thinking. Her mind was entirely blank, but what she did know was that she didn't like arguing with Roger; he could be a good friend when he wanted to be. "I'm not forgiving you, but I do want to be civil with you, and you to be nice to me. Friends?"

"Will you be nice to me?" That was a big ask of Bernie, and Roger knew it.

"...No promises." A small smile came to her face and it visibly calmed as their demeanours became more lighthearted around one another again. As attractive as he was when he started flirting, and as much as she didn't want to ignore that, there was no way she was embarking on romantic actions with him. 'Sex On Legs', as Brian and the rest of the band called him. And not for no reason.

"Friends." Roger smiled genuinely, showing almost all of his teeth, to which Bernie patted his shoulder and went to sit back down again. How they'd gone from sort-of-but-not-really cuddling on the sofa to arguing fiercely, to being devout friends again made no sense to Bernie, but she was glad to be able to tolerate him again.

10/12/22