It was their first performance on U.S. soil. For what she had heard about them, she thought the venue was too small to contain their reputation, let alone their egos. And she kinda felt bad for the headlining band because as of now, it looked like Queen would go down in history as legendary, where the headliners would only be known for being there when Queen first played the U.S.

What Lena was doing here, she wasn't quite sure, she had just been told that for the next months until this tour was over, she would be managing many of the behind-the-scenes Queen affairs. She decided not to question why she would be assigned this sort of task, but it was only ever once in your life you were told that you should manage famous rock stars with zero experience. Lena had yet to actually meet the band as they were late, as per usual. The headlining band's singer was pacing the stage, looking out over the empty grounds anxiously.

"What could they possibly be doing. They were supposed to be here to soundcheck hours ago."

Just then, a car door banged in the distance and followed by a round of unruly laughter. They had finally arrived, Lena thought.

With much flipping of hair and a chorus of "Hello Darlings!" to everyone Freddie saw, the band entered the venue.

Hours later, the hall was packed full of people, a writhing sweaty mass, drinking in all the rock n'roll thrown at them. At first the crowd had seemed hesitant at the force with which Queen had arrived onto the stage, but it was not long before they fell right into the swing of Freddie's phantasmagoria. Meeting the band had been about as eventful as Lena had imagined. Freddie had greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek, Brian with a warm smile, John with a hesitant half grin and Roger with a wink. She watched them play to the crowd now. They were more incredible to watch than she had envisiond; Brian with his passionate playing, John with his weird little dancing, Roger's focus and flare, and Freddie's sheer passion. Lena watched them with intensity, marveling at their stage presence and they way they commanded the still unsure crowd.

Their set was over as soon as it had begun and the band came prancing off stage as the headlining band went on.

"What did you think darling?" Freddie asked.

Before she had a chance to answer, Roger interrupted, "Of course she thought it was wonderful. What other reaction would there be?"

Lena just rolled her eyes, "I was going to say that I was very impressed, especially with your playing songs that were released only a few days ago."

"Oh so you're a fan?" Freddie said.

"I just did my research. I figured I should know a bit about you before I spend the next two months making sure you survive."

"Well then darling, let us all go out together and you can finish your research by having a drink with us."

"I don't think-"

"I am sure it is perfectly acceptable. Now let us go."

To no surprise of Lena, but to the immense surprise of the band, there were no clubs of the sort they were looking for. After living in the States for even a short amount of time it was evident that in the more rural parts, even in a city like Denver, there was a desperate lack of clubs and places which a band like Queen might frequent. They were not perturbed by this state of affairs and still insisted that they go out for drinks. At Lena's recommendation they arrived at the most acceptable bar they could find.

A slow, almost jazzy rendition of of an old rock song was being played on the stage, and although crowded with patrons, the place was fairly docile compared to anything Queen might be accustomed to. The band's flamboyant dress caught many an eye, but to Lena's surprise, the four remained quiet and reserved over the course of sipping their drinks.

"Care to dance darling?" Freddie asked when the grizzled old man on the stage began to sing a swaying melody.

Accepting his request, Lena let herself be led into the midst of a small collection of other couples dancing. It felt weird to slow dance like this, regardless of the fact that she was dancing with a famous rockstar. The song was shorter than Lena had expected it to be, but at a rustling of the mic and screeching of a stool across the floor, Lena looked up to see Brian situating himself on said stool with the old man's guitar. Freddie almost giggled as he rolled his eyes. Brian's accent caught the attention of everyone in the room as he introduced himself, and began to play. It was a song unlike any of the ones they had played in their accompaniment of Mott and the Hopple earlier that night, but an acoustic song that triggered in Lena's memory, but she couldn't remember from where.

"Can I cut in?" Roger's voice sounded at her shoulder.

Freddie winked in response, and expertly spun Lena around to land squarely in Roger's grip.

Lena was not particularly surprised to find herself here, based on what she had heard about the drummer's illustrious reputation. And she supposed that one dance couldn't hurt.

Roger certainly did not have the same sort of elegance that Lena was used to in dancing partners, but this was not to say he could not dance. His hand on her waist, the other hand in hers felt electric, not something she had foreseen. In spinning circles they danced wordless around the room, Brian's voice filling up the room, like a warm feeling bubbling over. For some unidentifiable reason, this moment felt more real than any she had experienced in the past decade.

Brian's song ended, but he began another, this one too eliciting a tender feeling of belonging in Lena's chest. She wanted to focus on the song being played, the unusual familiarity it played in her heart, but for some reason she could not keep her attention on that. Instead, she noticed the way the warm light fell on Roger's hair made it appear more ginger than blonde, and she supposed it did the same to hers. She wondered if it clashed badly with her orange top.

She found herself shaken at this thought of worrying at her appearance. For one, she was supposed to be their employee. For two, this was not time in her life for allowing her feelings to interrupt her daily discourse. She was shaken out of this string of thought when she felt Roger's fingers on the thin strip exposed skin between her top and bell bottoms. She guessed he had felt her tense at the contact, for the touch immediately vanished and his conversation and eye contact faltered.

For the remainder of the song Lena recognized a certain, careful hesitance in a his words. A hesitance for which she was grateful. As the song concluded, Roger detached himself and pulled her from the dance floor grasping her hand in his.

By the time they reached John and Freddie, Brain had also removed himself from the stage. Roger dropped her hand as they neared the group.

"As wonderful as that was, really Brian, was that all together necessary?" Roger asked.

"About as necessary as your dancing with our new tour manager."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Lena said, noticing a slight blush rise in Roger's cheeks, "I thought they were both wonderful. Roger," she said looking at each in turn, "you're a fine dancer, and Brain your non rock and roll voice is absolutely lovely."

Later that night when they exited the bar Lena was filled with a joy and anticipation for the coming months. She had decided that she like them all immensely and could not wait to partake in whatever adventures the might encounter. But her eyes kept flickering back to Roger, to his blonde hair and clear blue eyes. How unlike he was to anyone she had before deemed as worthy of her time. WHether he was actually worth her time she did not know, but as of now he had not really lived up to his reputation of being an absolute player, and she wondered if it was all rumors. Those rumors had to come from somewhere though.

On a what Lena presumed to be the last running bus of the night, that Freddie had insisted on riding, the five of them sat together, accompanied only one other, only mildly sketchy looking man. She wondered what that man thought of their little posse. Brian and Freddie with their dark hair and abstract hairstyles, joking with John, who was looking like a Renaissance painting. And then there was the blonde man, looking almost too pretty to be included with the rest of them, that kept shooting glances at the blonde girl. As much as Roger thought that Lena didn't see those stolen glances, she saw them, and wasn't sure if she should return the gaze. As they exited the bus a block from their hotel, she felt Roger's hand at her back, and at every other excuse he could seem to find to touch her in a casual way, he took.

As Lena rummaged for their room keys from her briefcase, they walked into the hotel, it's green walls reflecting the light to further establish that it was most definitely the mid nineteen seventies. She led the way to their rooms, giving them each their respective keys. She dropped Roger's into his hand and felt herself hesitate for a fraction of a second, her hand almost imperceptibly hovering over his.

Then she retracted her hand, flashed him a smile and slipped into her own room, pressing her back against the door. This was ridiculous, she thought, why was her heart thudding in her chest? Why did her palms feel like they were buzzing with energy? Why did she have butterflies in her stomach?