Somebody To Love (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor fanfic)

eighty seven

does anyone else think that ben hardy looked better with the shorter hair or is that just me?

over the next couple of chapters, there's gonna be some more time jumps -sorry- and of course, some tooth rotting sweetness

enjoy 😊

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Straight after getting back from New York, the band decided that for We Will Rock You, the band would make a music video and Roger, for some godforsaken reason, offered to let the band shoot it in their back garden.

"You know," Rebecca began as she watched yet another member of the lighting crew tread through one of the already wrecked flower beds, "When you said that you offered our garden, I was under the impression that it was going to be a simple video. Not a full-blown production. I mean, look at the state of the roses, Roger!"

"Those aren't roses, darling," Freddie says as he passes, wearing a thick coat and star? Sunglasses, "Those are, well, were, peony's."

She sticks her tongue out at his retreating figure and Roger laughs, "They could have been roses."

"Relax, love."

"Just make sure they take all this shit with them when they're done, yeah?"

He doesn't quite know what's going on with her; his mum said something about nesting when he was on the phone to her but she thought that it would have happened towards the end of her pregnancy.

She's pulled everything, everything out of its place and is going through the piles of clothes and clutter like her life depends on it.

But he left her to it, joining the boys outside where they're ready to start filming.

It's cold, so bitterly cold and as he sits with Deaky waiting for the director to yell action, he swears his nuts are going to drop off.

Rebecca didn't realise how much shit they actually have until it was all laid out in front of her; clothes that haven't been worn in forever, clothes are bound to be too small now and clothes that don't even belong to them and she wants it all gone.

Well, maybe not all of it.

She knows that there are some things that she can't quite bring herself to throw out. Sentimental things and she puts them safely to the side so she can find new homes for them later on.

But the clothes have to go, she thinks but then catches sight of an old Queen hoodie. One that's from the Sheer Heart Attack tour and that she's pretty sure it belonged to John. She remembers him wearing it constantly when they were out and about.

Sometime later, Rebecca looks out of one of the bathroom windows that overlook the back garden and see that they must be taking a break because the four of them are heading back towards the house to get warmed up and when they get close enough, she pushes the window open which makes Roger and Brian look up.

"You okay, love?" he asks, shielding his eyes to look up at her.

"I'm fine," she nods, "Are you guys almost done?"

Freddie takes a drag of his cigarette, "They want us to do a couple more takes of the intro and then we should be. Why?"

"Well, I'm clearing out some of our stuff and imagine my surprise when I found that most of the shit in here, belongs to you lot. So, consider this my warning; if you don't take it when you leave, I am giving it to a charity shop."

The four men stare up at the window as she closes it and John lets out a breath and looks at Roger, "She's a lot meaner now. I don't like it."

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By the time they've finished filming, Rebecca's calmed down and is now relaxing downstairs.

Roger does make sure that EVERYTHING that doesn't belong to them gets taken away with the company and the boys do take a decent amount with them and now, the house looks far too empty. That's how much stuff stored in one of the spears rooms didn't belong to them.

When he comes in, he goes straight upstairs for a warm shower and when he returns, she's curled up in his armchair in front of the fire, in a hoodie that he swears belongs to Deaky, reading a baby name book that his mum got her.

"Hey," he says quietly so he doesn't startle her and she looks up, giving him a little smile.

"Hey,"

"You're looking awfully cozy there," he leans against the doorframe.

Resting her head against the back of the chair, she shrugs, "'m sorry about earlier. I think I was a little...overbearing."

"You don't have to say sorry. I understand."

She looks as if she's going to say something but then doesn't and instead, a grin spreads onto her face as she waves him over, "Come here."

Raising an eyebrow, he steps into the sitting room and crouches down in front of her, "Yeah?"

He doesn't look away from her face as she silently rolls up the hoodie and takes his hand, moving it so it's resting on the warm fabric of her shirt and his mouth drops slightly.

"Is that...?"

It's small. God, it's so small but it's a bump. She has a bump.

"Nice of you to make an appearance, little one," he whispers, making Rebecca laugh and he looks back up at her face, "Stand up. Please, stand up. Lemme see it properly."

She happily does as he says and once he's pulled the hoodie over her head, he's back on his knees in front of her, pushing her shirt up to expose her stomach and there it is, nestled perfectly between her hips.

She giggles as he trails his fingers over it, lips following before he's resting his forehead against the small swell.

"Where are you going?" she asks when he gets up.

"'m gonna get the camera! I need to take a picture!"

She flushes when he returns, crouching down in front of her once more as he prepares to take the photo and Rebecca makes sure that she's holding her shirt out of the way and she closes her eyes as the flash goes off.

Roger's grin is large as he catches the photo at the bottom of the camera and he looks at her with bright eyes.

"I read that they're the size of an orange right about now," he informs her as he waves the photo in the air and she raises an eyebrow.

"Really? An orange?"

He nods and reaches for the marker that's on the table, writing the date and how far along she is on the bottom of the photo, "Yeah, doesn't seem really big, does it? We should start putting these in your scrapbook."

Her brow furrows, "If Sprout isn't the size of a sprout anymore, should we start calling them...orange?"

He looks at her as if she's daft, "No! Sprout is Sprout. That won't change."

"Oh," she nods, releasing her shirt so it covers the small swell again, "Right, sorry. Sprout is Sprout."