Work Text
It's something that Brian got used to over time, the way he got accustomed to moving from planes to rental cars to hotel rooms, living in a manner that was overwhelmingly glamorous and breathtakingly tedious at the same time. He learned to absorb Freddie's teasing compliments in the same way he consumed all of Freddie's words, with careful consideration the majority of times and bewilderment on quite a few occasions. It is obviously Freddie's mission in life to say the most flattering things he can about Brian.
Except when they're arguing, of course, but even then, Freddie would say things like, "Brian, darling, sometimes? You're such a fucking bitch," and it would come out one part disgusted and pissed off, and the other part full of a proud kind of awe... as if Brian was a dangerous wild animal that Freddie had found in the jungle and had tamed to a point, before Brian had taken a chunk out of his ankle during feeding time.
There's a section in Brian's mind that will always be flustered over this, because he's basically the same person on the inside who thought it a mystery that someone of like Freddie would deign to hang out with him and make music and enjoy the whole process... He's grown used to it, mostly, and so he just smiles at whatever Freddie says and moves on.
It helped, though, that Freddie said shit like that about everybody; Freddie was a people-person, generally, and the individuals he liked were showered with laughing declarations of their awesome, sometimes in a backhanded manner which indicated that even the act of insulting them was a compliment in itself. Roger and John and the rest of the crew had their moments too, but as John liked to point out, Brian was the greatest focus of Freddie's energies.
"Like the sun to Superman," he claimed during this plane-ride and had fixed an unwavering gaze on Brian as they sailed through the air on a flight to their latest tour stop. "Or like Kryptonite, you're his weakness. You know what I mean."
"Umm," Brian mused and then shrugged. "No. I have no idea what you mean. Once again, Deaky, you are the source of my complete stupefaction."
"I try my best." John grinned and then stuck his nose back in the book he's brought along; Brian watched him for a moment, and then jumped as Freddie touched the side of his neck, fingers wriggling through the spaces between the seats.
“Brian,” Freddie groaned unconvincingly. "I want to sit beside you and touch any part of your hot body. It will cure my air-sickness."
"My body isn't hot enough to cure anything," Brian said as he turned around and peeked through the space. He could see one wide brown eye just inches away, ringed with thick dark lashes. The eye blinked slowly; Brian blinked back, smiling.
"Please?" Freddie begged and blinked so rapidly that Brian couldn't keep up. "Have you seen yourself lately? The gossip rags are utterly drooling over you."
"I like how you mention the gossip magazines as if they're a living entity."
"But, Brian," Freddie pointed out in an aggrieved tone. "They are."
"Fine." John sighed and stood up, going out into the aisle and motioning at Freddie impatiently. "Change seats with me, so you can touch Brian's hot body."
There was a chorus of jeers from Roger directed at John for giving in, and at Freddie for being a general pain. Freddie, oblivious to the calls or just flat-out ignoring them, grinned mightily as he wriggled and jittered around until he was in John’s seat. He twisted and sighed for a moment, stretching in contentment before turning to look at Brian's amused face.
"Hi."
"Hello there," Brian replied, flipping through the fashion magazine in his hand without looking at the pages. Freddie glanced down at the glossy sheets; his eyes narrowed slightly, then lifted to lock with Brian's gaze again.
"What are you looking through that for?"
"To remind myself of my complete and utter averageness." Brian composed his face into serious lines as Freddie's expression became stormy, his default whenever someone derided Brian, including Brian himself. He reached over and pointed to a blond male model with barely any clothes on.
"You're more attractive than he is," he claimed and Brian's shoulders were shaking with waves of suppressed laughter.
"Alright. How about her?" Brian pointed to the heart-faced female model on the opposite page, her eyes large and innocent as the rest of her frail body was covered with a thick coat.
"You're cuter," Freddie asserted.
Brian turned a few more pages until he found a group of three, long tanned limbs draped artfully; they were beautifully androgynous.
"Them?"
"Look, if they were having a threesome and inviting me for a Freddie-sandwich, I would tell them that I'm on a diet and it consists of all Brian all the time." Freddie considered for a moment. "If I wasn’t engaged, of course."
"Of course." Brian made sure his voice was carefully neutral; he retrieved his shades from under the magazine and slid them over his eyes, giving Freddie a sidelong glance. "Those were the right answers, in any case. And hey, if it weren’t for your engagement, I'd probably take you up on that diet of yours."
Freddie stared back at him, his eyes wide with wariness and shock. Brian stared back patiently; most times, the strangest things threw Freddie off-balanced, made him skittish and impatient. Granted, dealing with Freddie who was slowly becoming more famous was dealing with a person who was half as reactive as before and more thoughtful than ever. Now and again, though, Brian could throw him a good curve-ball.
He could see Freddie trying to figure out if he was just joking or not, his eyes boring into Brian's. Brian let his mouth curve a little more, knowing that while he was indeed very serious, there was nothing either of them would do about it. Not now, anyway. He couldn't help but smile a little more, though, when Freddie's gaze dropped briefly to his mouth.
"That's... good to know," Freddie finally said carefully. "Brian, after--" he stopped, shaking his head and turning to gaze at the back of the seat in front of him, clearly at a loss for words. Brian didn't want him to mentally flail for too long, so he put his hand on Freddie's cloth-covered arm, pressing his fingers so that Freddie would feel the warmth against his pulse.
"Freddie, hey, don't worry," he murmured; Freddie's pulse was now thrumming against his fingertips, like a beloved series of notes. "Just keep telling me how attractive I am. I'll believe you one day."
This was a far cry from the real conversation that they were having, but Freddie actually shot him a glance of sheer gratitude, as if Brian had done everything in his power to preserve the two of them just the way they were. To move a few steps out of this preservation would be disastrous, terrifyingly so... and it could be exhilarating.
"I could do that, darling," Freddie said in a louder voice, and it was only then that Brian realized how low that their voices had been, secrets built between them like a kiss hidden in the shadows. "You know that you're the hottest guitarist of all, Brian.”
Brian nodded, looking down at his magazine without seeing anything. "You're bad for my ego, Fred,” was all his only reply, teasing at the top layer of his voice and wry acceptance underneath. From the way Freddie shifted beside him, trying to get closer and pull away at the very same time, he had heard every nuance. He seemed to stopped struggling with himself after a few moments, and placed his head gingerly on Brian's shoulder; Brian let that shoulder relax, and they sat there together for a long time, pretending to read Brian's magazine.