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fourmisfitz · 5 years

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Drowse (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: You need a quiet space to work, so you go to your best friend Rogers. You arrive exhausted, though you try to deny it, and Roger takes it upon himself to take care of you and get you the rest you so desperately need...

Setting: Current year because smartphones and some literature references, but London, England when Smile was still together and Brian and Rog were still studying at Ealing Art College. Imagine whichever Roger Taylor version you fancy, I just chose the Ben!Roger Borhap gif to prime you with that concerned emotion☺

Word Count: 4.6k

Requested? ✔

Warnings/Content: Just stocked up on fluff. It’s long but it’s just sweet:)

A/N: Hello lovelies! HERE IT ISSSSS, I’m totally writing this while running on 2 hours of sleep after two all-nighters in a row so, let’s hope tis good;) I was listening to ‘39 while writing the last bit, so if you wanna get in that sorta mood, like, go for it. This is my second fic posted on this account, let me know whatcha think! Something of this sort was actually requested by two followers, and I blended the requests slightly in a way that I think works well. One request was more open-ended where Roger takes care of you, and the other involved being at his place and ending up staying the night and something happens, which brings me to- no, there is no smut (because I actually have one coming out soon for that *wink wink*), but I hope it still leaves you satisfied, enjoy!

P.S. sorry it’s so long, needless to say I got carried away! ;)

And remember- feedback, feedback, feedback! Xx, Darc

Rubbing your eye with the knuckle of your thumb you let out a muted yawn as you leaned your head against the bus window. You were on your way to your best friend Rogers for the evening to work on an important school project. You both studied at the same college, but lived about 9 miles (15km) away from each other. Though you spent a lot of time together at one or the others flats frequently, lately school had been overwhelming to say the least. You’d been nose-deep in textbooks and research papers that never seemed to end, leaving you little time for socializing besides a few phone calls. After countless waves of sirens passing in your busier side of town, you had given up trying to write your paper in your small studio apartment and asked if you could come over and work together. Roger didn’t actually have much work to do, as his prof was a little less intense with the workload, but he was more than willing to lend you a quiet space to get some work done and catch up on one another, too.

You glanced down at your phone to flip through the songs Roger had recorded with his band Smile and sent to you. Roger, Brian, and Tim had been toying with some new rhythms and riffs, and Rog always liked getting your trusted opinion on how they sounded before going out and performing them at gigs. Though he was usually pretty stubborn to changing his sound, if you suggested it he would at least try it. He’s been doing this for awhile now - sending you them, seeing as you were his best friend and had an ear for good music, playing the piano yourself; a natural virtuoso.

Some riffs really caught your ear, others were merely pleasantly entertaining; it seemed none of them were boring, but they were missing something, perhaps some more excitement. You made note of the ones you really liked and would be sure to tell Roger when you arrived around 7pm.

For the time being, you slowly dozed off en route to his flat, but as the bus struck a pothole it shook you awake as you nicked the side of your head on the glass. Glancing out the window, you realized you were one stop away from your destination.

You got off and walked into the apartment complex that towered a measly 3 stories high. It was definitely different from your studio flat, which was located in a very dodgy area with alarming traffic swinging by all through the night. You buzzed the door for entry with a “Hey-” and paused to yawn, leaning against the wall, “-Blondie. Future-tooth-inspector. Rog. R-to-the-O-Geee. TayTayyy-” and were finally cut off by a loud buzz.

When you got up to his front door on the second level, he was already standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and hair disheveled as usual.

“Don’t you ever call me TayTay again.” but his face quickly formed a wide teeth-gleaming smile as he opened his arms for a hug. “Come here, love.” You smiled back, your smile not really reaching your eyes in your fatigued state as you dove into his chest. He was a solid few inches taller than you, making hugs protective and secure. His chest was warm, instantly making you content and his little muffled laugh was lulling you. Roger was wearing a smooth black button-up, buttoned up halfway, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You let out a pleased sigh and he looked down at you nuzzled into his chest.

“ ‘You alright?” a half-laugh leaving his small mouth.

“Hm?” you asked, still hugging him tight, “Oh- yeah yeah,” you straightened up and snapped yourself awake with a head shake as he looked at you quizzically. “Yeah, ya goof” raising your voice a bit to convince him, playfully shoving his shoulder, “i’m just a little sleepy is all!” walking past him into his flat.

“If you say so.” He shrugged, dropping the thought and walking over to the kitchen.

You had plopped yourself down in front of the big couch - between it and the low wooden coffee table, a bag of textbooks and folders on the floor with you, ready to set up shop.

“Fancy some tea, bunny?” he called from around the corner, filling a kettle up with water.

Bunny - the nickname he picked up for you for always being so hyper and jumpy, never really able to sit still, a true opposite to your current demeanor, though. You leaned your head back to rest on the couch cushion as your laptop started up.

“Yeah! ummm-” you pinched your nose, feeling a headache rush to the surface. He had backed up from the kitchen to see you past the dividing wall, popping his head around the corner. “Orange pekoe, please!” eyes still closed, you called back, not realizing he was a few feet away from you. He paused for a moment and then resumed his meandering in the kitchen.

“Sugar?”

“Hit me with three!” you were in need of something extra sweet to wake you up.

You moved your hands behind your head, supporting your neck, elbows high. You blew a big short breath as if to get down to business, but your laptop was installing some updates, as it always seemed to do when you needed it most. You pulled out your phone and decided to scroll through social media for a bit while you waited, but the screen just hurt your head more, so you settled on resting your head in your arms on the table. Just for a minute. The kettle began to pop and bustle.

“Oh! By the way, did you get a chance to listen to some of the new material from the band I sent over?” After a few seconds of silence, Roger peaked his head about the wall again, seeing your face was buried in your arms. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” you perked your head up the slightest inch and shook yourself awake again. “Oh- yes I really liked, umm... the one with...” You were yet again interrupted by another oncoming yawn. “the one with theee.. guitar and, stuff.” Your voice was barely audible through the yawn. You fluttered a hand in his direction, drooping your head back into the dark space provided by your arms.

“Rrright...” he furrowed his eyebrows. The kettle threw pops of water inside it, bouncing off the metal and echoing throughout the flat. He wondered how long it had really been since you’d had a decent night sleep. He walked over to the couch, sitting down behind you and lightly placed a large hand on your shoulder.

“I’m up!” You snapped, throwing flexed hands up like a reflex. His hand was paused hovering above your shoulder in a bit of shock from your reaction. You let out a groan, leaning your head back against his knee.

“I’m sorry, I- I’m just so-”

“-I know.” he said in a low calm voice. He knew when you got tired like this - like anyone - you were bound to be more impulsive and emotional. He slipped one hand under your head to cradle it and cushion his boney kneecap. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look pathetically exhausted, Y/N.” he peered at you, running his fingers through your hair near your temple with the other hand, chuckling to himself at your puffy eyelids.

You rubbed your eyes and sat back up. You gently gripped the edge of the coffee table bracing yourself as you leaned into a deep yawn, “I ammm-muh,” agreeing. You lifted your head back up, wiping shy hints of tears away that had emerged from the stretch as you blinked into alertness, “but I have to finish this paper, Rog, it’s due in two days and I still have another one to start due in a week.”

“Well, then how ‘bout a walk? It’s cooled down a bit outside. Fresh air ‘oughta do some good.” He tried.

“A walk sounds nice, but I really can’t right now, Rog.”

Roger looked at you inquisitively as you went to type in your password to unlock it. After two failed sloppy attempts pattering the keys, you grunted weakly in frustration, “Well this is just great!” but then it turned into a quiet giggle. You glanced up at him smiling a bit deliriously. His faced was laced with concern as he scanned your goofy lopsided smile, the laptop serving another delayed ding and rejecting you entry. You seemed to be acting the same as you did when you were tipsy, all giggly and incoherent.

He didn’t mind looking after you, he quite liked it actually, having someone to get all protective over sometimes. He had taken care of you in many instances in the past, whether it was taking you home after you went too hard, too fast at a bar and was worried about prowling guys taking advantage, or when the seemingly kinder ones broke your heart; you always found yourself at his flat, welcoming you with open arms, movie marathons, tea and your favourite ice cream.

“Oops.” your head bobbled, eyes hooded and blinking at him through your lashes. You returned your gaze back to your screen for another hopeless effort, but just as you were about to type, your hands were shaking profusely. You started to feel a wave of dizziness occur. You began to drowse.

And at last, the tea kettle began whistling from the other room. He got off the couch and bent down beside you.

“On second thought, maybe we should get you ready for bed, yeah?” Though he offered a ‘maybe’, it wasn’t a suggestion, he decided on it. He reached out from his perched lowered stance to scoop either of his wrists below each of your underarms, lifting you back onto the couch for a moment as he stood back up.

“What? No, Rog, I’m- I’mm-” you were halted in your sentence by another stubborn yawn, “III’m fiiiiine-hh” relaxing your face. He just shook his head deciding to ignore your weak protest.

“Surrre you are.” He bent down to reach an arm under one of your legs.

“No Rog really I’m quite good honestly” you tried again, really trying to display your typical bubbly self, but you were so tired you instantly sunk into him and gave up as he swung his other arm behind your upper back to support your weight.

“ ‘For your own good, love.” Your arms instinctively wrapped loosely around his neck as he carried you ‘princess-style’ to relieve the kettle of its panic and then to his bedroom.

“But my paperrrr” you slurred, tilting your head back to see the abandoned laptop.

“It can wait.” He said assertively.

“Someone’s been working out,” you giggled, tapping the shoulder farthest from you. He just did a little snort at that, because of the randomness, and he knew he wasn’t exactly the buffest guy.

Hearing yourself say that showed you just how sleep deprived you truly were, because that was just a little weird. You leaned your head into the crook of his warm neck, his long hair tickling your cheek. You swore you could pass out in his arms right then and there.

He was so good at caring for other people, at caring for you.

He presented himself as this guy with a hard protective shell who mainly cared about his reputation as a good lay, shagging girls left, right, and centre, but you knew him for the softie he was, something he didn’t really let anybody else see.

He set you down on his bed, helping you pull the puffy duvet out from under your legs and lifting it to rest over your shoulders.

“I’ll go fetch your tea, be right back.” He assured.

You must have dozed off for a brief moment because he was back with a steaming cup the very next second. Roger flicked the dim nightstand lamp on and set your mug down on the coaster.

“Let that cool for a bit, darling,”

God, you’d never get tired of his husky, raspy voice, and hearing him say darling, the way it sounded so stuffed with care as it rolled off his British tongue.

You sat up a bit and leaned into the tufted headboard. For a small apartment that was home to a college student, his bed was the most luxurious one you’ve ever seen... guess it made sense why. He sat on the edge of the bed close to you. You glanced down at his exposed forearms, never really noticing how defined they were from all the drumming, as he placed a hand on your covered thigh.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, Y/N?” his eyes finding yours. You shrugged, your guilty ones trailing away to the duvet below.

“I’on’know.” you lied. He brought a hand to your chin, his index finger knuckle tipping it up to return your gaze to his bright blue eyes.

“Have you been at least trying to fall asleep? What’s been keeping you up?” There was that look of concern again you’d become accustomed to whenever you found yourself in damsel mode.

“Well yeah, ‘course I have, I just...” he waited patiently for you to finish. The truth was that you had been working hard on school, but you had also just been dumped. You didn’t want to admit that though, because you weren’t even really officially dating the guy yet - it had only been about two months, and Roger and you hadn’t hung out in a awhile because of schedules, so you failed to inform him of the new lad anyway.

You huffed, “I got dumped.” you closed your eyes, not seeing his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Dumped? By who?” He moved his settled hand to be atop your own. You shook your head slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“I didn’t want to make it a thing, and I felt bad for not telling you about him in the first place when it started becoming something.”

You also didn’t want him thinking there was something wrong with you, that there was some attribute or trait that drove men away, had he ever decided to reciprocate feelings for you. Which was a stupid thought and you knew it - you were best friends and he knew you. You also had kinda just been keeping yourself occupied with romantic interests in an attempt to chase your feelings for him away while he himself seemed occupied with girl after girl.

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh, love, that’s okay. I mean, we’ve both been so busy, you especially. I know how hard you work. Sure I’d like to hear about things but it doesn’t always necessarily have to be as they happen.” You’re eyebrows pinched, wondering how you got so lucky to have him as your best friend.

He passed you your cup of tea, “Should be cooled down enough now, there’s no sugar though.” You raised an eyebrow at him as you tipped the mug back against your lip. “Chamomile.” He rushed to explain shortly. You just sipped without a change in expression, waiting to hear more. “Nightmares, and all - you know how sugar heightens the-” He waved his hand around in front of him, searching for the word, “vividness and all...” he almost seemed... embarassed and sheepish, trying to act like it didn’t mean much, “didn’t want you waking up from some night terror or something.” He let out a half-laugh, taking a sip from his own mug, “Do you want to tell me what happened with this dumbass?” Followed by another sip to shut himself up.

“You remembered.” you noted, slumping back lower down the headboard, a little grin coming over your face as you clutched the warm mug.

“What’s that?” he raised his brows, licking his lip to catch a droplet of tea that dribbled.

“Just,” shaking your head, “didn’t think you remembered I got night terrors.”

He shrugged. “You used to get them pretty bad.” he recalled.

One night a few years ago, you had stayed the night at Rogers for the first time and he was awoken by a very panicked you, unable to fully wake up, and he just held you, shushing you as you quieted down and drifted back to sleep. You didn’t know about that night though. When he referred to it the next morning in conversation, you had no idea you woke him up at all, just that you had a bad nightmare and thought your leg shook and that was the end of it. You thought nothing of it and forgot about his mentioning of it when he played it off as “must've been a dream or something,” of his. Other times you knew you, when you would wake up alone at home from them, but you were never aware of his comfort being the reason you were able to stop panicking and lull back to a deep more relaxed sleep that night.

“Hmh. Anyway, about Dean,” another yawn, “maybe in the morning, Rog.” your weak, shaky arm resting the mug back on its coaster.

He perked up, “Dean, eh?” a grin widening across his face. You groaned. “He even sounds like an ass.” He shot you a wink, ruffling your hair as he stood up from the bed. “You’d better get some sleep, yeah? I’ll be out on the couch if you-”

“Wait!” you urged a bit too sudden, grabbing his wrist.

“Yeah?” He looked down at you, awaiting a response.

“Uhhh,” Shit.

“Wha’s up?” He turned his body to face you.

“Just... could you-... could you maybe stay in here tonight?” your voice trailed off quietly. “I just know I sleep better when I’m not alone, and-” he knew it too.

“Yeah, sure. If you think it’ll help.” A wave of relief came over you.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it in a corner, walking over to his wardrobe to snatch a pair of pajama bottoms. “Do you want something comfier to sleep in than those tight jeans you’ve got on?” He also remembered they were tight...

“That would be great.” you laughed nodding, and he threw a pair of flannel bottoms at you, accompanied by a band tshirt.

You instantly began changing right then and there, not giving it a second thought.

“I like that one.” Roger noted, your grey lace bra now in full view.

“Roger!” you clutched your cotton button-up to your chest to cover yourself. You didn’t really care too much though, but you were so tired you just didn’t really consider walking the 5 feet to the bathroom to change.

He let out a boyish chuckle, “What?!” You swatted your shirt him, shaking your head with a little grin peeking out. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” he went to undo his belt with a smirk creeping up, referring to the countless girls he’s been with.

“Shut it! I’m too tired to even- I just wanna go to-”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I’m just pullin’ your leg.” You sighed. “I’ll give you your privacy.” he mocked, defensive hands held up near his shoulders as he exited the room to the bathroom.

You began to change, pulling his tshirt over your head. It smelled so good, with hints of musk and pine permeating off of it.

From the bathroom, Roger could see your reflection in the mirror. He went to close the door properly when he noticed to actually give you your privacy, but just as he was, he caught you reveling in the scent. You had the shirt on, but lifted it, the fabric held to your face, eyes closed. He smirked and rather than shutting the door to avoid attention, just stepped away so you weren’t in his view.

You slid off your pants, which exhausted you to the brim, leaving you out of breath. You could hear the water running as Roger brushed his teeth and such. You reached for the flannel bottoms he had offered you and pulled those on under the duvet. They were huge on you because of the height difference, but they were comfy, nonetheless.

Roger knocked on the bathroom door as he walked in to give you some warning. He was shirtless and wearing a similar pair of pants as you. Your body lay somewhere under the thick duvet, just your head peeking out as you lay on your side. He looked down at you as he turned out the bedside lamp. Your hair was sprawled out over the satin pillowcase, and there was something so mesmerizing about it.

You felt the other side of the bed sink as he moved the blanket back and climbed in. Instant warmth radiated off of his body under the covers. You, back in a sort of delirious haze, reached out and placed a small hand on the side of his head, petting his hair.

“Having fun?” he laughed, moving your limp hand off and placing it between either of your pillows by your head. You felt something lumpy underneath your palm.

“Is this-?” you yanked it from the far back position it was stuffed.

“What?” a now groggy Roger asked.

you gasped, it was.

“Aha!” you gleamed, a fist clasped around its fluffy body, “Beary Potter!” you squealed. It certainly peaked his attention.

“Y/N! Give it!” He ordered as you yanked it away from his reach, giggling.

Beary was Rogers first teddy bear, and you remembered him always needing to sleep with it, no matter where he was. He had a blue ribbon tied around his neck, and even in the dark you knew it was him from the familiarity.

Roger kept reaching as you sat up holding it far away from him in the air.

“Tell me Taylor,” you went on as he groaned, falling back into the pillow, defeated.

“Do your late night shags ever get the courtesy of meeting such a legacy?”

“That’s enough out of you!” he grabbed your wrist in one swift motion, causing you to lose grip of it as it dropped. Your giggles came to a halt. He sighed, grabbing the stuffed animal and setting it on his bedside table, out of your reach.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

You sighed and whined, slumping down to the pillow, now laying on your back.

“Oh Don’t tell me you’re not tired anymore.”

“I am tired!” you retorted. “I just-” you trailed off.

“Well out with it!” he pried impatiently.

“I’m scared...” you croaked, staring out at the black abyss of the dark room.

“To fall asleep?” his voice was a bit softer now.

Your exhale was enough of an answer to confirm that. He adjusted so he was closer now. A lot closer, actually. You could feel his warmth from all of his body right next to you, just shy of an inch away.

“Maybe.. I could help with that...” he offered in a whisper near your ear.

That caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps covered your body. He was right there but all of a sudden you felt freezing at the tiny sensation his breath had against your neck. You gulped quietly.

“How-” clearing your throat, “-how do you plan on doing that?”, the curiosity honestly getting the best of you.

And at that, you felt a hand reach over to your jaw, his finger tips just by your ear, turning you to face him. His fingers gently trailed down the side of your neck, before he stopped himself, retracting his hand back to his side.

Your face dropped in disappointment, though he couldn’t see.

The dark room let him forget who he was beside, not being able to see your face as a reminder - definitely not just some girl.

“Roger...” you breathed, completely unsure of how you were - or should be - feeling.

He exhaled through his nose. “Sorry.” he went to flip onto his side to face away, but you caught his shoulder, and slowly pulled it back down to rest on the mattress.

“No it’s... it’s okay.” He turned to face you. “Could you actually, um...” you inhaled and held your breath, “could you hold me, Rog?”

“Hold you?”

Oh boy, should I have even asked? We’re best friends and all but-

“Will that help?” he asked, genuine care lingering in his tone. There was a pause before he felt you nod as your head audibly moved on the pillow.

“Okay, love.” and you turned to face the other direction, scooting into his warmth as he extended an arm under your neck to rest your head on. He draped a secure arm over your waist and dragged his hand from the dip of your waist up your arm to your shoulder and back down again to try and relax you. There was that shiver again, but it felt so comforting.

“You’re alright, you’re okay.” he reassured, continuing to draw his fingers along your skin.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. A bit hesitantly, you moved a leg back to intertwine with his.

His leg jolted at first in surprise. “You’re freezing!” He exclaimed, barely louder than a whisper. But then he wrapped his leg with yours, making them a mess of limbs under the thick covers.

There was a pause for a bit as you settled into the comfort.

“Three days.” You croaked.

“Hm?”

You turned around to face him, taking a deep breath and letting it go against his chest. Your hot air gave him goosebumps as his arms settled around your new position.

“I haven’t slept in three days.” You whispered, nuzzling your face into his sternum.

He gave you a squeeze with his arms and held you closer, his grip securing you in his arms.

“Well...” reaching a hand up to run his fingers through your hair, instantly calming you down a hundred levels. “That’s about to change, isn’t it?”

Your nose let go of a short breath in amusement, reaching an arm under his and drawing circles on his back. After awhile, you felt yourself grow laden with fatigue, but you couldn’t get a song out of your head. “Roger?” your voice barely audible in the security of his hug. “Y/N, go to bed.” he insisted. “The one with the lyrics about the girls smile.” you murmured into this chest. A moment went by before you added, “That’s the one.” and continued tracing a few more shapes on his bare back before your hands fell limp in a deep sleep. “Well,” He kissed your head ever so lightly. “I’m relieved because that numbers about a special friend of mine.” but you were already gone.

That night, you had some dreams. You had good ones, bad ones.. terrifying ones even, but Roger was there. The whole night, he never let go of you, even when your body started nearly-convulsing in a REM sleep panic. Even when your nails dug into his back subconsciously from the fear propelling you out of stillness, he just breathed extra deep in the hopes of your lungs mimicking his inhalation patterns. Even when he woke up in the morning with just a measly half hour of sleep docked, he was still just as close to you as you awoke.

He looked down at you, your arm draped across his bare torso as he lay on his back, you basically a koala attached to him. Moving a stray hair that had fallen over your face, your eyes slowly blinked awake, lashes fluttering, and met with his blue ones.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” His raspy voice cooed, smiling at your sleepy state. You just squeezed him tight for a moment and settled your head near his collarbone as you lay on your side.

“Did you have a good sleep?” You asked with closed eyes, slowly seeping into a drowse again.

He tucked some hair behind your ear and replaced his hand on your upper arm with a deep breath.

“The best.”

You hummed in satisfaction, and went back to sleep, your little hints of snores drawing out a smile across his face you never saw as he finally did too.

Please let me know what you thought :”) I won’t know if my writing is good unless you let me know or offer ideas for what I could improve on as well as fic/blurb/headcanon requests! I appreciate all the support :) xx

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