Hi.

Roger's gonna do something drastic.

Bye.

"Look, Fred!" Roger threatened, pointing a finger in his band mate's face and sneering at him menacingly. Fred crossed his eyes to look at the finger then raised an eyebrow at the blond. "If you don't put my song on the single, I'll…I'll…" he paused and looked around anxiously for inspiration. His eyes lit up when his gaze landed on the closet. "I'll do something drastic!"

Freddie chuckled and rolled his eyes. He pushed the other man's finger out of his face and put his hand on his hip. "Roggie, darling, please," He smirked, his tone patronizing. "I'm not putting your idiotic song on the single."

The blond drummer puffed up his cheeks angrily, his face turning red, and stormed past the singer. Freddie whipped around to watch the blond shove his way into the closet and lock the door behind him. Brian gasped softly, rushing over to the door, his long, lanky legs flying behind him. He knocked on the door worriedly and softly called Roger's name; John calmly walked up behind him and set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Brian looked at him and smiled softly, physically seeming to calm down.

"Rog," He called softly, making Freddie groan and roll his eyes. He knocked again and leaned his head against the door. "Don't lock yourself in the closet! It's dusty and stuffy; your allergies might act up! Why don't you come out?"

"I'm not coming out until he puts my song on the single!" He screamed, his voice sounding more raspy than usual from inside the closet. Freddie scoffed at his immature behavior and made his way over to the locked closet door. He shoved Brian out of the way, making him run into John with a soft "oof", and kicked the door.

"What the fuck are you; five years old?!" Freddie accused, Roger didn't respond but the singer knew the drummer was bound to be pouting, especially because of what a child he was being. "With that kind of attitude, I am never putting that piece of fucking trash on the single!"

Roger slammed himself against the door then, making everyone in the room (well, except John) jump back. "Then, go!" He shrieked, punching and kicking the door.

Freddie huffed angrily and stomped his feet. He slammed his fists into the door until Roger had stopped throwing a fit. "You're fucking absurd, Roger Meddows Taylor!" He screamed, ramming into the closet on last time for emphasis. "A fucking nut, that's what you are, you goddamn…child!" He added, shaking with rage.

Brian and John stared at him, the guitarist in surprise and the bassist in faint amusement. "You're not obvious at all, dear." John commented. Freddie flushed with embarrassment then and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The guitarist nudged John and they both followed Freddie out.

Slowly, but surely, Roger unlocked the door and peeked his head out of it. He nodded seriously and then proceeded to close it again

As hours passed, John and Brian had tried to coax Roger out of the closet, but it was to no avail. Freddie himself couldn't give a flying fuck, or that's what he kept telling himself at least. Subconsciously, he was constantly glancing at the door to see if there was any sign of Roger coming out. There wasn't.

Eventually, after a long, stressful band meeting, it was time to call it quits. Well, for the guitarist and the bassist at least. After John stood up calmly and announced it was time for him to head home, Brian had nodded in agreement. As he was packing up his stuff, he asked Fred if he wanted to catch a ride.

Freddie shook his head, frowning. He made the excuse that he wanted to record a song he had been working on. The truth was the song he was working on wasn't nearly ready to be recorded. He glanced in the direction of the closet again, not really knowing why he wanted to stay anymore.

John smirked, crossing his arms, and Brian nodded, smiling softly. Then they grabbed their instruments, muttering to each other.

For a long time, there was complete silence, except for the occasional nail biting from Freddie. He waited for a sound of movement, a sigh, anything really. But all he could hear was the sound of the clock ticking and his own heart beating. The more he thought about Roger in the small space, probably sweating from the heat and tired from the lack of oxygen, the more worried he had gotten.

There was a quiet cough from inside the closet that made Freddie go absolutely ballistic. He threw his fists down on the table and groaned exasperatingly. "God damn it, Roger!" He marched over to the closet and turned the nob, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn't. He crashed into a couple recording mics and music stands before being shoved into the wall.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the lead singer could feel hands snaking up his shirt and nails dragging up and down his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he felt narrow hips press into his.

Then he felt chapped lips press up against his own. He tried to cry out, but it was too muffled. He squeaked and sewed his eyes shut as he felt one of the calloused hands grip his bum beneath his drawers. Before he could even gather what the fuck was even going on, he felt the mouth slowly move against his, feeling a tongue pressing into the crack between his own lips

Despite his best interests, Fred started groping whatever he could. He grinned when he heard a surprised moan after he squeezed a very sensitive place. And just when he was about ready to commence the famous battle of tongues, the other pulled back, panting and still massaging his ass. Freddie whimpered softly, a mixture between disgruntled sadness at the loss of friction and the sensual rubbing that was making his leather pants even tighter.

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple times, finally able to see the soft glow of blond hair. In a damaged, raspy voice, the drummer asked, panting, "Is there a…possibility of my song…going on the new…single?"

Freddie swallowed, wrapping his arms around Roger's neck. He looked up at his shyly through his eyelashes and bit his lip, his face growing even redder out of embarrassment. "I—I think," He began, stuttering, something he had never done, mind you, tangling his hands in the other's blond hair. "I think I need a…a bit more persuasion." He finished.

There was a long pause, just the two of them still touching and panting. Then Roger grinned, lifted Freddie up by his ass, and pressed him into the wall. Freddie giggled wildly and stretched his neck as Roger attacked it with kisses, sucks, and nips.

Roger banged his back into the door, sloppily relocking the closet door.

A couple minutes later, John strutted in, and, having forgot his coat, quickly picked it up. He didn't look up when he heard loud bangs and a pleased sounding 'Oh, Roger!' coming from inside the closet. He just rolled his eyes and muttered "fucking imbeciles", swaggering back out like he didn't hear anything.

See? Told you.

-IG