Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Chapter 77

It was almost Christmas. Snow was falling outside, layering everything with a thick sheet of fluffy white snow. Sitting nice and warm inside was Bernie, scribbling something down on a document. "Bernie, what are you still doing here, pet?" DCI Peterson came up behind her and peered down at what she was writing, but her scrawls were so rapid that the words were barely legible. DCI Peterson was a middle-aged man who was slightly overweight and had a thick head of hair. Everybody else at the station called him 'Dad', a nickname he'd gained after he was found pushing a young child on a swing, who he was trying to distract from the arrests of her parents, who weren't going quietly.

"Dad, I've made a discovery, Derek handed me this today," she picked up a file and pushed it towards DCI Peterson. His eyes flitted over it, taking the words in in a hurry.

"Well shit. First thing tomorrow, I'll make sure we go to this address and see what we can find. Now, go home, shoo, it's late!" Flicking the little lamp off at Bernie's already-crowded desk, her papers were plunged into darkness and she knew there was no contest. Everybody else had gone home a little while ago, but she was so ecstatic by this new discovery that her fingers twitched with the anticipation to get it all down on paper. She had no idea what the time was, but could only assume that it wasn't much past eight o'clock, which was when everybody else had gone home.

The only light left in the office was what was trickling in from the bright hallway lights and Bernie stood up, putting on her coat and picking up her bag in resignation. "Is there any chance we could catch him before Christmas? I know that's only four days away, but this case really, really means a lot to me."

"Why's that, Bernie?" DCI Peterson walked with her to the doors of the station, crossing his beefy arms in curiosity.

"Oh, I just don't...like drugs?" Her improvisation was pathetic and she knew it, so she made a quick effort to leave. "Bye Dad!" Then she bolted across the car park to the weather-beaten bike sheds and put her bag in the panniers of her slim purple bike before hopping on it, ready to cycle home through the festive darkness. Luckily, the gritters had already been, so she wasn't battling against the snow and ice. The wind, however, wasn't so lenient.

"Birdie! Fuck, I was so worried." As soon as Bernie had stepped through the door, Roger's arms were strapped tightly around her, holding her into a tight hug. Confused, she patted him hesitantly, not sure what the fuss was all about.

"Why...has something happened?"

Roger let go of her and she was finally able to take a deep breath, free from his air-restricting hug. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He frantically cupped her face, ran his hands through her hair and up and down her arms. Bernie had never seen him so worked up, his cheeks red and hair a mess. Before she could question him further, he'd crashed his lips against hers, taking her by welcomed surprise. God, she'd missed this, and she could get used to the way in which he was kissing her.

"Roger, I'm fine, what's going on?" Dazed, she took hold of his hands once the kiss had broken off and bore into his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. If she wasn't mistaken, she could see a small stye working its way to the surface of the skin in the corner of his left eye. He was working himself too hard on the tour; he needed the rest during the long break he and the band had over Christmas.

"It's eleven o-fucking-clock, Birdie! Where have you been, bloody hell," knowing that she was home and safe, his voice steadied and returned to its regular husky volume.

Bernie's stomach dropped. Eleven o'clock? It couldn't be. No way had she been at work for three extra hours. Guilt surfaced and she wrapped her arms around Roger's neck, giving him a hard kiss on the cheek. He hugged her torso and they stayed like that for a few moments, swaying slightly. Not only had she been unintentionally late home, this was also the first proper evening they'd been able to spend together since Roger came home from touring Scotland on the 16th December. He'd brought home a rotten cold with him, one Bernie refused to catch, so she stayed in the spare room on the nights his coughing and sneezing was worst.

It seemed he'd gotten over the worst of it now, for it'd been almost a week. This was the first time she'd gotten to hug him and kiss him in a month and a half.

"Rog, I'm so sorry, I seriously had no idea, I was working on a new case and I guess...time just - slipped away from me..." Resting her head on his shoulder, she breathed in his familiar scent and all of the tension she'd been carrying melted away.

"Sweetheart, what could have been so important for you to have donated three extra hours of your time?" There was a hint of worry on his face, he didn't want to see Bernie become too overworked, but his mood was softened by the fact that she seemed to be enjoying her new job.

"I'll explain in a little while, I just need to have a shower and get out of these clothes." Now that she'd realised she'd been in the same outfit for over fourteen hours, she couldn't bear to be in her skirt and jumper for a minute longer.

"I can help if you'd like," Roger's eyes danced and all she had as a response was a girlish laugh. Pecking him on the lips, she made her way upstairs to get ready for bed.

"Your time will come, don't you worry Meddows."

The hot water of she shower was like a waterfall of serenity. Her skin reddened with the heat of the water, but she didn't mind a bit as her muscles unknotted and her hair had a good lather after being tied back all day. Numerous times since starting her new job she'd contemplated hacking some of the length off, but laughed at the lunacy of the idea when she caught sight of her red locks swishing down to her waist. The nightmare of washing it was a small price to pay, although it didn't seem that way when she was in the middle of it, trying to work in conditioner and tug the knots out afterwards.

"How has the tour been? I hope you and the boys have been behaving yourselves," Bernie smiled, curled up under the thick warm sheets, leaning against Roger's chest and putting her head in the crook of his neck. His arm was around her and he stroked her shoulder with his thumb, his other hand resting not-so-innocently on her thigh. She had no complaint about that, it was the best of both worlds.

"We've spoken on the phone almost every evening, I want to hear about this all-consuming new case."

"Okay, now don't get too excited, otherwise you'll get me even more riled and I won't be able to sleep...don't say it." Feeling the pressure of his jaw on her head, she knew he was grinning, which only meant one thing: he'd thought of a dirty joke.

7/12/23