[For Brian. And Plot.]

[one__song]

There was something building inside of Roger. He was reaching some kind of breaking point and he could feel it. Mark and he were speaking again, but the stress of relieving tension was upon him there. And he and Clem were no longer speaking, which... fuck, he couldn't even think about that. And there was Prior and he hadn't seen Mimi and he

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[queer_as_brian]

Brian was heading toward the men's room when he heard the unpleasant jangling noise that was clearly a frustrated person with a guitar. He glanced over at Roger's room, frowning. Not that he was worried about him or anything, but...hey, maybe he'd welcome a little distraction.

He exchanged the frown for a grin, moved to Roger's doorway and knocked on the doorframe before poking his head inside the curtain. "Hey Rockstar."

[one__song]

Something about... that- what was it? Brian's voice or the fact that he knew it by the word 'Rockstar'- it made a smile tug at his lips, but there was barely a trace of it by the time he looked up. He looked miserable. And tired. And a little sallow.

"Hey, Brian," he said, scratching a hand through wild tangles of hair. "What's up?"

[queer_as_brian]

Not a flicker of the brief pang of concern Roger's appearance brought him showed on Brian's face. He slipped inside as if invited, leaning against the wall and arching an eyebrow at Roger. "Not much. I was bored and in the neighborhood, so to speak." He smirked faintly and straightened again, moving to the bed and making himself comfortable. "What's up with you?"

[one__song]

Roger snorted and scooted back on the bed, using the wall to support his aching back. He was aching all over, but he wasn't sure why. It wasn't cold; the cold weather usually aggravated all of his injuries, and he didn't think he was getting sick. He sincerely fucking hoped he wasn't.

"How much time you got?" He rolled his eyes. Brian would never, in a million fucking years listen or care.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian arched an eyebrow at him, then commented, deadpan, "I'm stuck on an island with no job, no bars, no clubs, and very limited social life." He glanced at his nonexistent watch and moved up next to him, reaching out a hand to absently play with Roger's hair. "At the moment, I have no pressing appointments, in other words." He chuckled under his breath.

[one__song]

Roger was surprised, but he just... sighed, letting Brian touch him. It felt good. It wasn't... heavy. Cumbersome.

"Clem and I got into it," he began, rubbing violently at his eyes. "I think I called her a pretentious cunt? Anyway, that fucking sucked. And I... did some stupid shit. And Mark started talking to me. And I should feel good about that? But I.... feel like an asshole." He laughed cruelly.

"I know it sounds like nothing, but it's... just a lot of shit."

[queer_as_brian]

Brian sighed, fingers moving to Roger's neck, massaging it gently. "Sounds like you could use a distraction," he purred, leaning in to kiss the side of Roger's neck. "And a backrub," he added wryly against his skin as he felt the tension in the muscles beneath his lips and fingers.

[one__song]

Anytime Roger was touched, he tended to tense and stay that way, but the tension did ease after a moment under Brian's agile fingers, his warm lips.

"God, yes," Roger said on an exhale. He closed his eyes and let his head loll forward.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian laughed gently and moved his hand to rest between Roger's shoulderblades, nudging him forward. "All right, take off your shirt and scoot forward." It was foreplay. It wasn't comfort, it wasn't compassion, it was fucking foreplay, and Brian was sticking to that.

[one__song]

Pretty much as soon as the request was out of Brian's mouth and they were moved into position, Roger's shirt was being discarded on the floor. He sighed and sat up, trying to relax as much has he could.

"I heard what you did to Prior. And if he and I were speaking more than we had to, I'd be totally fucking pissed." He meant it, but there wasn't a lot of malice behind it. He was too tired for malice. And Brian was the only person he could turn to.

Fuck, how sad was that?

[queer_as_brian]

"What I did?" Brian barely remembered that--or was pretending to, at any rate. "...Oh, right. He'll get over it," Brian replied airily, even as his hands gripped Roger's shoulders, kneading them firmly.

[one__song]

"You're a--fuck, that's good." The word 'bastard' was in there somewhere, but it left. All he could think was Brian's hands and tension release and someone that expected nothing of him. He needed all of it. And he'd never ask for it. God forbid anyone else just... give it to him.

[queer_as_brian]

"I know," Brian murmured, brushing his lips over the back of Roger's neck as his hands moved out and down, onto Roger's upper arms and then back up again.

[one__song]

A low, rumbling moan vibrated Roger's throat, low and barely audible, but he didn't doubt Brian heard it nor was he trying to hide it. In fact, he was moving closer, close enough to be considered as pressed against Brian. He didn't remember what they'd been talking about, despite the fact that it had seemed important. There was too much that was important.

[queer_as_brian]

Brian worked his hands lower, pressing and kneading the muscles in Roger's back for a few minutes more. He rested his chin on Roger's shoulder as his thumbs stroked firmly along the base of his spine. "Hey Rockstar. Look at me," he purred.

[one__song]

That spark that made his lips form a smile flaired in his stomach, and he turned his head as directed, looking at Brian as much as he could.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and appeared docile.