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Dortmund January 21, 1979
Roger had been trying to catch up with Freddie all night, but somehow they’d never ended up in the same place at the same time. Whenever Freddie seemed to be free, Roger had two or more people demanding his attention, and when he could finally get away, Freddie was entertaining a bunch of people. Roger didn't know if they were fans or record company folk, and he didn't really care, but he very urgently needed to talk to Freddie. So when he saw Freddie leave the aftershow party, he made a quick excuse by citing a migraine to the lady who was currently telling him how much she missed his long hair and rushed after his friend.
The cold January air hit him right in the face when he left the club. It cleared up the small buzz which the few beers he had consumed had admittedly brought on. He made it just in time to see Freddie getting into his limo. “Hey Fred, wait up!”, he called.
The singer turned around and watched Roger running up to him.
“Are you ready to leave as well, dear? What a terrible party that was. I don’t remember the Germans ever being so boring.” Freddie let out a laugh and Roger joined in because it was true. As far as aftershow parties were concerned, this one hadn’t been anything to write home about. Roger had not enjoyed himself at all, and what a rare occurrence that was.
“Yeah, I’m knackered,” Roger explained.
“But it’s only the second show of the year. How can you of all people be tired?” Freddie sounded genuinely surprised.
Roger had to laugh at that. “Guess I’m getting old.”
“You’re not even 30! Oh, that reminds me. I still need to plan your birthday party. It’s going to be absolutely amazing, a night you’ll never forget!”
They walked to the limo while Freddie excitedly rambled on about the party of the decade, no, century, that he was going to throw for Roger.
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The drive to the hotel was, thankfully, rather short, so not 10 minutes after they left the party they stepped out of the lift.
“Do you fancy a nightcap?” Freddie asked while opening the door to his suite.
Roger nodded, he wasn’t that tired after all and he still needed to talk to Freddie.
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The one glass of scotch that Freddie had given him turned into a couple more and Roger had forgotten all about the reason he needed to speak to Freddie in the first place.
Currently, he was lying on the sofa, his head in Freddie’s lap and his feet hanging off the end. He had toed off his trainers to get more comfortable.
Freddie was massaging his head while he talked about something or other. Roger was feeling content and relaxed so he wasn’t really listening but he pricked up his ears when he suddenly heard the word ‘bitch’.
“Sorry, what did you just say?” he asked, slurring just a bit.
“When did you tune out, darling?” Freddie did sound a bit reproachful.
But Roger ignored him and sat up. He had been preoccupied all night, thinking back to that one moment during the show. At first he hadn't really thought about it very much with the roar of the crowd and the general fun of being on the road again after their Christmas break, but when John turned to him after the show with a smirk and said “See you later, bitch!” he thought that maybe he should talk to Freddie.
And then he had forgotten all about it because he had been so cozy in Freddie’s lap.
“You know I love you, right?” he asked.
“Of course I do. Why would you…”
But Roger interrupted him. “And you know I’m not ashamed of you or anything like that?”
Freddie just stared at him for a moment, clearly not understanding where this was coming from. “What’s going on here, darling?”
“No, don't look at me like that, it's not anything bad, I just think that maybe you shouldn’t be telling 15,000 people that you’re in love with me. That’s all.” Roger let out a satisfied sigh. There, he'd finally told Freddie. Now they could go back to cuddling.
But Freddie was having none of that. He was narrowing his eyes at Roger instead. “What are you on about? I never said I loved you on stage tonight!” He sounded quite indignant, too.
They had agreed to keep their relationship private, at least in the beginning. But now, nearly three years later, well, there really wasn’t any reason to change that.
Roger was giggling. He had picked up his Scotch again and was taking a sip. “Yes, you did.”
“When did I say that?”
“Well, just before Dreamer’s Ball … when you said ‘I Hate You, Bitch’.”
Freddie’s mood turned quickly when he heard that answer and he let out a loud laugh.
“God Roger, I thought you were serious, you git.”
“But I am serious!” Now it was Roger’s turn to sound indignant. “Why would I be joking about something like that?”
“Roger darling, in what language does ‘I hate you, bitch’ translate into ‘I love youʼ?” Freddie was still smiling.
“It is common practice between…” Roger started to explain.
“Stop talking nonsense!”
“No, you stop interrupting me. I have a friend…”
“Oh, you have a friend …” Freddie was enjoying this far too much.
“Freddiiiiie …”
“Alright, alright!” Freddie held up his hands in surrender and motioned for Roger to continue.
“So anyway, my friend and his girlfriend always throw insults at each other but everyone knows they love each other dearly. It’s the way you say it.”
“The way you say … so you are telling me when I look at you like this,”Freddie cupped his face with his hands and looked seductively at his boyfriend, “and say ‘You’re really ugly, you arsehole’ you will only hear …”
“’You look beautiful tonight, babe.ʼ” Roger grinned at him.
“You, Roger, are an utter prat!”
Roger looked proudly at his boyfriend. “See, you’ve already gotten the hang of it, you pillock. I knew this would be right up your alley.”
“Oh, piss off, you nutter!” But Freddie couldn’t hide his smile. Roger was right, he was enjoying this.
“I mean, you're usually not the sharpest tool in the shed, but you’re actually quite good at this.” Roger yelped when the pillow hit him right in the face.
“Shut up, you git, or I'll…” Freddie reached for another pillow.
“Or what? You’re going to insult me to death? If you think you can win this fight you’re as mad as a bag of ferrets.” By now Roger was laughing so hard he was holding his stomach. So the next pillow hit him dead on as well.
Freddie was now advancing on his boyfriend. “Tosser!”
“Minger!” And this time the pillow hit Freddie right in the chest, tumbled off to the side and knocked over one of their glasses. Freddie let out a little screech.
“Oh, you daft twat. Have you gone completely bonkers, you berk!” With that, Freddie threw himself onto Roger.
His boyfriend let out a loud ‘oof’. “Get off me, you knobhead! You’re crushing me.”
Freddie started to lift himself up but Roger pulled him back and planted a loud, wet kiss on his mouth. “You are a hysterical old tart but I love you anyway.”
“And you are clearly one card short of a full deck but I love you, too.”
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The next morning Freddie awoke first. He turned towards Roger and smiled fondly at him.
Then he gently shook his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Wake up, you tosser.”
Roger slowly opened his eyes, and groaned as the light of the day assaulted him.
Freddie gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you for last night, darling. I had a lot of fun even if you fell asleep on me. And I was thinking…”
His boyfriend just looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
Freddie slapped him on the knee and gave him a disapproving stare. “Yes, it does happen from time to time. Don’t you think we should tell Brian and John?”
“Tell them what?” Roger was rubbing his eyes and let out a loud yawn.
“Well, about us and do cover your mouth, please.”
“You think they still don’t know?”
“Well, we have been rather careful, don’t you think?”
“Yes, until you told everybody last night.” Roger grinned up at Freddie.
“Very funny… John might have his suspicions but Brian wouldn’t suspect anything even if we decided to have a shag right in front of him.”
“Now there's an idea.” Roger licked his lips in what Freddie supposed should have been a suggestive manner but just looked silly this early in the morning.
“Be serious please, they are our friends after all.”
“You're right. We should tell them, I do feel a little guilty for lying to them this long.”
Roger did indeed look contrite. They really hadn’t meant to deceive Brian and John this long but somehow the right moment had never come up. “Don’t worry, Fred. I’ll take care of this. Now, about this shagging business…”
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Two weeks later Brian and John went to pick up Freddie for breakfast. Roger had told them he’d rather skip breakfast today – considering the party after the Zurich show had been quite wild with Roger right in the middle of it, not eating was probably for the best – so they went on to Freddie’s room.
After Brian had knocked on the door, the singer shouted for them to come in. The two men entered Freddie’s suite only to find him still in the bathroom.
“Fred?” Brian called out.
“In here! Make yourselves comfortable, darlings. I’ll be out in 5.”
Brian and John shared a look, knowing it would probably take much longer than 5 minutes. But, they did make their way over to the little lounge. When they passed Freddie’s bedside table though, Brian grabbed John’s arm.
“Hey John, look at this.”
A mug set on the table. It was shaped like the lower part of Minnie Mouse and stuck to it was a yellow post-it note.
“For my scumbag
Love Roger x”
The note looked as if it had been scribbled quickly with a pen that was running out of ink.
“Oh,” was all Brian could think to say. That was not something he had expected to find. Freddie and Roger had been at each other’s throat for the last two weeks. Ever since that show in Dortmund. He didn’t know what had happened, but the only words they would say to each other were insults. Brian was sure he could fill a notebook with all the things they had come up with; from the pretty common ‘twat’ to the more original ‘wankpuffin’ that Brian was sure Roger had made up on the spot.
“I knew it!” John’s exclamation interrupted Brian’s thoughts. He looked at his friend who had a very smug expression on his face.
“Knew what?” Brian was still confused as all hell.
“That Fred and Roger are... you know.” John raised his eyebrow with a smirk.
“What are you talking about. They’ve been insulting each other for the last two weeks. The nicest things they’ve said to each other was ‘hello’. What on earth makes you think they’re a couple?”
“Oh please, Brian. Some people say ‘I love you, honey!’ and some people say ‘I hate you, bitch!’ What kind do you think the two of them would be?”
Brian considered this for a while. John did have a point. And it wasn’t as if he had never noticed his two friends hanging all over each other and giggling. He had wondered before if there wasn’t something more to their friendship. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed to him and he had to admit that Freddie and Roger made a pretty sweet couple.
Just as he was going to respond, the bathroom door opened and Freddie appeared, looking surprisingly awake for someone who’d only had four hours of sleep.
“I’m ready! And I could eat a horse…” Freddie stopped talking when he saw the way Brian and John were looking at him. “What’s wrong? Something on my face?”
John was the first to reply. “No, nothing’s wrong … congratulations though! About bloody time you told us.”
“Yes, congratulations, Fred. We are very happy for you both.” Brian said with a warm smile on his face.
Freddie smiled back at them. “Thank you, darlings,” he said. He linked arms with both Brian and John. “Let’s have breakfast. I really am starving. Hopefully they offer a full English. This continental stuff is just not my cup of tea…” Freddie rambled on, dragging the other two towards the door.
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Roger joined them later, after they had already finished their breakfast. He sat down next to Freddie who turned to him and gave him a once-over.
“Darling, you look dreadful.”
Roger's smirk was tired, but mischievous. “Well, darling, so do you, but at least with me it’s only temporary.”
Brian and John just looked at them, smiling fondly.