Feelings Long Buried - Roger Taylor

January 1977

After three years, Y/N felt she was a pretty good manager. She knew the ins and outs at that point, could handle not only the brutal music business, and the sometimes clashing personalities of Queen, with a level head. But every now and then, an issue would arise that would make her want to punch a wall. Or in the case of the Day at the Races show in Chicago, every problem imaginable would arise.

The lighting rig started malfunctioning halfway through the show, Roger and Freddie were at each other's throats all night, three of the roadies were sick, you name it. Everything that could wrong, did. Y/N was running around like a madman all night. Whenever she would put out one fire, another one would pop up. Maddeningly exhausting was an accurate description. She didn't even want to go to the afterparty. All she wanted was some alcohol, a cigarette, and some peace and quiet.

And she got that, luckily.

Y/N was holed up in her hotel room the minute everything was squared away, with mini-hotel booze bottles scattered over her bed, and a cigarette between her lips. That was, until a knock sounded at her door.

She let out a groan, still tensely frustrated, and dragged herself up from the bed. Whoever it is better have a damn good reason...

Yanking open the door, she didn't bother checking who was on the other side. If she did look through the peephole, however, Y/N would've seen a tipsy Roger, disheveled from the afterparty leaning against her doorway. "What do you want, Taylor?" she snapped. The content smile on his face faltered for a moment at her harsh tone.

"Whoa, did I interrupt something?" he chuckled. Y/N sighed, rolling her fingers over her eyebrows, eyes fluttering closed in annoyance.

"Just me getting the first moment of quiet in the past five hours..." she sighed.

"Should I come back?" he asked gently. Y/N opened her eyes to see a genuinely worried look on his face and sighed again. Though that one was much more cathartic.

"No, sorry...What did you need?" she asked with a much gentler tone. The cigarette found its way up to her lips again as Roger slipped past her and into her room.

"Just wanted to know when we were shipping off to Toledo tomorrow. I thought you'd have- hey, what the hell?" Y/N turned towards him at the abrupt change in tone, and tossed the door shut.

"What?" she offered, taking another drag.

Roger's face was suddenly much more serious. "I thought you were trying to quit. These things can kill you, y'know," he stepped towards her again, snatching the cigarette from her hand.

"Hey! That's real rich coming from you," Y/N said sarcastically. She didn't even have the energy to try and take it back.

"Yes, but," Roger smirked around the cigarette as he took a drag, "I'm not trying to quit." Y/N only rolled her eyes.

"After the day I had, I think I get a pass," she grumbled and dragged her feet towards her bed to flop onto it again.

"That bad, huh?" Roger sat beside her, so Y/N pulled herself up to a seated position.

"I'll just leave it at anything that could've gone wrong, did," she snapped. Just thinking about the frustration from earlier that night caused her to tense up again.

"Huh... You really need to get laid," Roger said casually, but Y/N's brows skyrocketed.

"Excuse me?" Despite Roger's reputation, and the fact that they were friends, the two of them hadn't discussed sex since... Well since they fucked each other.

Roger threw his hands up in surrender. "You haven't dated anyone since Colin, haven't been with anyone since..." he trailed off for a moment. His tipsy brain must've not thought to side step that awkward topic, so he quickly continued. "I'm just speaking from experience. Whenever I'm as pent up as you are right now, sex always helps," he shrugged.