Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 61

"So I was thinking," Roger broke the silence sometime later as he traced lines up and down her bare arm with his rough fingers. Bernie couldn't help but think that they felt somewhat like Holden's, then remembered that Roger was never going to have smooth hands, he was a musician. This thought relaxed her. "Maybe we could tell Brian soon? You know, before he finds out on his own."

She turned around to face him and propped herself up on one elbow, looking into his encapsulating blue eyes. "You haven't even asked me on a date and you want to tell Brian? Didn't we have this conversation not so long ago, right before I kissed you and walked away? I really think then would've been a good time to have a think, Roger." She tutted with false disappointment.

"How could I remember anything after a kiss like that, Birdie?" Roger put his hands over his face, exhaling deeply, remembering every tingle of her touch that evening.

"A kiss like what?"

"Yeah, actually, I can't remember. Can you show me again?" Smirking cheekily, he locked eyes with her and she gave him a wide grin in return.

"You shouldn't be so forgetful," leaning forward as if to kiss him, she poked his nose with hers and laid back down, feeling Roger's lustful agitation hang in the air. She waited another moment primarily to build the tension before getting up, feeling hot and itchy after her nap. "Come on, let's go downstairs, this room is suffocating me."

When they got downstairs, it appeared everybody else was so knackered out from such a long day of recording that they'd all naffed off to bed. "Oh. I see how it is." Bernie said to the empty living room and rocked on the balls of her feet, feeling cold all of a sudden. So she went to flick on the kettle to make tea.

"Hey Birdie?" Roger called.

"Yes, Roger?"

"You've got something on you, a spider or something, come here a second so I can get it off."

"Ew, yeah, get it the fuck off." Bernie wasn't scared of spiders, not by any stretch, but she certainly didn't want one camping out on her back. Reversing instead of turning around for a reason inexplicable to her, he steadied her and went to get the insect off of her. Tapping his fingers on her back, he moved them round to her waist, causing her to squirm. She was insanely ticklish and the soft brush of his fingertips set off the reflex. "You bastard," she said between laughs as he started tickling her waist and stomach, making her jump about, giggling uncontrollably.

"Stop! Stop!" She cried, but she didn't really mean it and Roger could tell the difference between her authoritative voice and playful tone.

"Shhh!" He put one finger to his lips momentarily before resuming tickling her. "The others might be asleep." With great difficulty, she held her tongue but squeaks still escaped her whilst Roger tickled her more. "Where else are you ticklish, Birdie?"

"Nowhere! Nowhere!" She tried to whisper but laughed in between, raising the volume of her voice significantly.

"We'll see," he flashed a toothy, entertained smile, but had no time to find out more of her ticklish spots as the energy exertion made her feel limp again. She tried to bat it off as she was having a good time, but perhaps it was too soon to be engaging in energetic activities again since earlier, despite having a nap in between. The swift movements and breathlessness of laughter made her feel lightheaded and dizzy. So, as Roger's forefinger went out to gently tickle the crook of her neck, the room started swimming before Bernie's eyes and her tongue turned to sandpaper. Then her legs went numb and she lost all control; her knees gave out as she fell into Roger, who caught her just in time. "Birdie? You okay?"

At first there was amusement in his voice, but then he moved the hair out of her eyes to see that they were sealed shut, her mouth ever so slightly open and feet dragging on the floor. Her entire body weight was in his arms and in a desperate panic, he had to wrap his arms around her to lift her safely to a soft surface where her paper doll-like figure could lay without dragging any of her limbs across the floor as he went. With absolutely no clue of what else to do, he covered her with a blanket from the back of the sofa and darted to the nearest bedroom, taking two steps at a time down the dimly lit staircase to John's bedroom.

Yanking open the wooden door, he stormed into the room and announced, "I hope you're not wanking yourself off, Deaks, cause I need you ASAP." He paused. "Now!" Seeing that John was indeed not doing what Roger had said and was instead flicking through a magazine, he dragged the bassist up by the arm and pulled him back up the creaky stairs.

"What's going on, Roger?" John sensed the uncharacteristic alarm in Roger's tone and obliged in being hauled up the stairs to where Bernie was laying seemingly lifeless, bar the slow movement of her stomach as she breathed. "Fuck."

"What do we do, Deaks?" Roger grasped John by the collar of his shirt hysterically, mania in his eyes.

"First of all, calm down. I'm sure she'll be fine." Demonstrating what it looked like to act rationally to Roger, John went over and opened the door, letting in a cool evening breeze. Then he went and soaked a tea cloth in cold water, wringing it out and placing it on Bernie's head. By the time he'd completed this, her fingers had started twitching and her eyelids opened. She took a deep breath of life and regained consciousness with John and Roger kneeling beside her, Roger's hand holding hers.

"Where am I?" She muttered gruffly, sounding as if she'd been walking through the desert for days. She'd only been out for no more than a minute, but it felt like years.

"It's okay, Bernie, it's John and Roger." John said clearly, adjusting the wet cloth on her head. "How do you feel?"

"Grand." A hint of a smile came  to her face, lighting the boys with hope. Even in the most worrisome times, she still found humour somewhere in her head.

"What happened?"

"I fainted."

"I know, but do you know why?"

"Yes. Roger was tickling me and I think it was just a bit too much."

"Oh, Roger," John stood up and crossed his arms, giving Roger a reproving look. "Your lack of medical knowledge is almost worrying. She should be resting this evening, not jumping around the place!"

For a moment, Roger looked almost guilty before he escaped to the kitchen to get Bernie a glass of water and a sugary snack to bring her back to planet earth. Both boys sat with her for a little while whilst she regained full awareness and the ability to converse. However, after a little while all she wanted was to sleep again and John admitted to being in the same boat, so Roger carried her off to bed, leaving his friend to his own devices as he went back down to his room in the basement.

"Goodnight, Birdie." Roger kissed Bernie's loose lips softly as she dipped in and out of consciousness, feeling settled under the sheets in the comfortable bed with him close beside her.

29/3/23