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Champion lullaby singer and provider of magical nights

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“What do you mean you don't have the reservation?” Freddie yelled at the reception lady.

“Sorry, our previous receptionist must have taken your order, he often didn't write things down... That is one of the reason why he was let go.”

“But..... we don't have four individuals, but we do have two doubles... And they have two beds each, right, Don?” Don shook his head. “Well, one of them has a queen sized bed, but we can put an extra bed in that, right, Don? They're a band!”

“All right, but I get the big bed.” Freddie said. “And I get John in my room, neither of you two.”

Roger made an indignant face.

“I'm not having you come in my room with several women at three am and throw me out of my big bed. Not again, Roger.”

“Ok, I get it. But why don't you want Brian?”

“He's sad. I don't want sad in my room.”

“I'm not sad!”

“Oh, darling, you pretend not to be, and you're really good at it, but... No. Roger and his excess of happiness will compensate for you beautifully. And John's my boy. Aren't you, dear?”

“Sure, why not.”

That night, in that not so good room (but they had to accept, the poor receptionist was clearly new and stressed and they couldn't just say no... Also practically all the city was booked for some stamp collectors convention. Go figure), Roger couldn't sleep. He was way too hyped for the show the next day, he was super excited about their new set, about his new concert outfit, and they had three (three!) nights here, and sure they were just opening for another band, but...


And the an odd sound took him out his thoughts. It was almost imperceptible, very very low, but it was there – a little sob. At first Roger couldn't understand where it was coming from, how that was happening. Was he crying without realising it somehow? No, he wasn't. Was he imagining these sounds? Why would he imagine someone crying? There was no reason for that.

And then he remembered that he wasn't alone in the room. He got up from the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible (and cursed the stupid creaking floor under his bed for a while) and went to the bed next to him. And there he was, Brian, with his soft angelic face and his fluffy hair... crying in his sleep. Shit.

It was quite clear that he was completely asleep, his breathing was too regular for anything else, but still there were tears coming down, and a small whimper coming from him every now and then. It was... shit, it was very distressing. Roger didn't want to wake Brian up, because it was really late and they needed all the sleep they could get, but he didn't think he could sleep while Brian was there, hurting in his sleep.

What to do, what to do???? Think, Roger, for once in your life, think!

Roger was at an absolute loss, but really couldn't bear the sight of Brian's tear stricken face. Had he done something that could have brought this on? He may have fought with him a couple of times, may have let out a couple of subtle insults... But it wasn't that bad! He did appreciate Brian and felt they were lucky to have a guitarist like that, with such a personal sound.

What would Fred do?

Possibly sing something, as he always did. And what could one sing to help someone stop crying? …. A lullaby?

Twinkle, twinkle, little star” Roger whispered “how I wonder what you are.”

It was about stars, right? And Brian liked stars.

Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky.”

Roger kept singing for a bit, until Brian seemed... better. Then waited for a bit and smiled when he saw that there were no more tears. Mission accomplished. The next morning he asked Brian how he'd slept, and the taller man told him that he had slept surprisingly good, better than he had in weeks. Roger felt happy, absolutely convinced that it was his awesome lullaby singing that had helped Brian. He was great.

But then he felt a bit worried, because the best in weeks? Did that mean that he'd been crying every night all that time? What the hell was so tormenting him so much? Just to test his theory, the next night Roger cut the night short and went to the hotel at the same time as Brian, and decided to stay awake until the other man was asleep. Surely tonight there would be no tears, after that great concert, after those drinks in the after party... Brian had been great, they all had, there was no reason to cry, right?

But still, there it was again, that night. It was a bit more silent than the previous night, but there were still tears going down his face. Roger put a chair next to the bed, and sung and hummed the same lullaby for some minutes before going back to sleep himself. He had an incredible urge to wipe the tears on Brian's face, but that would probably wake him up, and it would be weird. Besides, he knew that by the next morning they would have dried up.

And the next morning Brian was smiling, saying that that bed must be magic because wow he was feeling refreshed and great. Roger smiled to himself, calling himself all sorts of great names (“best friend ever in the world”, “champion lullaby singer”, “magic night provider” yeah, that was a good one) and enjoying the appreciation a lot, even Brian had no idea those compliments were for him and not the bed.

But the next night... The next night the twinkle twinkle little star wasn't enough. Brian seemed to be having a full-on nightmare and Roger didn't know if he should wake him up or not, because in uni he'd often heard that it was better not to wake the person, only to do it if they seemed to be hurting themselves. But he had to do something! He couldn't just leave Brian crying and moaning and mouthing no with that little voice of his... He tried other songs, he tried toora loora loora, he tried hush little baby, he tried everything he could think, but it wasn't enough.

So it was time to do something more dramatic. He was the champion lullaby and magic night provider and no roommate of his would have a bad night, not if he could help it. So he decided to get in Brian's bed, although it was small, and just hush him from there, keep humming closer to his ear. It was a bit overwhelming, the closeness, the intimacy, Brian's breathing in his ear, and jesus how well he smelled... Then Roger started caressing Brian's face, almost without thinking about it, and that with the singing and the caressing, so rhythmical, so pleasing, so... Roger fell asleep, with one arm across Brian's chest, in a bed that wasn't his own.

When John and Freddie went to get them, they found them like that, asleep together, in that one tiny bed. Somehow, each other's body heat had made the sleep even better, even deeper. They were made a little ball of limbs and hair and they had never looked more peaceful. Freddie went back to his room and took a couple of pictures, while he smiled a happy proud smile.

“This is why you put me in your room! You knew... they were going to happen.” John said, after they decided to go to breakfast by themselves and leave those two being precious together in that bed.

“I honestly didn't, you give me too much credit. I just didn't want all of Roger's mayhem, not when we have such important shows! You seemed like a safe choice, but hey, added bonus.”

When Brian woke up after another great night of sleep he found that he wasn't alone in bed, but couldn't remember coming back with anybody. And yet there was a blonde person cuddling him in that bed.


Roger woke up after a bit, still with a bit of drool on his chin and a lazy smile in his eyes.

“Morning, sunshine....” he said automatically, convinced that he was with the lady of the night. “Shit, Brian!”


“You were having a nightmare, I couldn't wake you, so...I thought maybe some... you know caressing and hushing would help.”

Somehow, they both knew they should be untangling themselves from each other, but neither wanted to do it. They were safe and warm in that bed, they didn't want to go.

“That's... very nice of you, Rog, thanks. I slept like a baby, and usually when I have nightmares I wake up feeling awful, with a headache.”

Brian smiled and Roger smiled back. But still, there was something eating at him.

“Bri, you... you've been crying on your sleep the last three nights.”

“I have?”

“Yeah, I sang to you some lullabies and that stopped, but still... Is it something I did? You know you can tell me anything, I know sometimes it may feel like I don't care about anything but myself and being famous, but....You can tell me.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're not. You're just... repressing your tears.”

“It just a bad moment, Rog. It's not one specific thing, one specific reason. Sometimes I feel I won't live up to the band's expectations, or my dad's expectations. Sometimes there's no reason... But you've done nothing, so don't worry about it. You've actually helped a lot.”

Brian tried to maneuver himself out but Roger made a noise, stopped him.

“Stay a bit more. You're comfortable and you smell nice.”

Brian stayed. In that moment, he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be more.

“Thanks for the lullabies, Rog.”

Roger smiled. He was a champion lullaby singer and magical night provider and he'd never been comfier.

Next time, he was bunking up with Brian again (and again, and again, and again...).