A Man For All Seasons (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

25. Dogpile, Part One

Julia

"Mom?" Danny's whisper floated across the barren dreamscape. "Mom, wake up!"

I let his voice lead me back to consciousness, albeit dragging my metaphorical feet every step of the way. For one blessed moment, I chose to forget just how much trouble all of us were in, and all I knew was that morning had arrived, Danny was talking to me, and my face was pressing down into my pillow. If I had the option to stay that way for the rest of the day, there I would have remained, the very image of contentment. Alas, there is no rest for the wicked; with a begrudging moan, I lifted my head.

"Mmmmph... morning, offspring," I mumbled.

"Ohayou," he grinned. "Wanna see something funny?"

"Alri-" I began to say, before remembering that I had not fallen asleep alone and scrambling upright, heart pounding in my head as I tried frantically to think up a plausible, G-rated excuse for why Freddie lay naked next to me in the bed. But when I turned to him, he was gone. The pillow next to mine was empty and cold, as though his head had not rested upon it for hours.

"Where's Freddie?" I gasped.

"Shhh!" Danny giggled, pointing toward the foot of the bed. "Look!"

Frowning, I clambered across the covers in the direction of his finger- then smiled. If nothing else, Freddie had not traveled far. He was fully dressed (thank God) and sitting up against the wall facing me, fast asleep while the purple notebook lay closed across his lap. As sweet as I found the image, his position seemed anything but comfortable.

"What's he doing on the floor?" I asked aloud.

"I dunno." Danny said somewhat unhelpfully. "You gonna wake him up?"

I hummed thoughtfully, easing down from the bed and crawling closer. "I don't want to get him in a mood."

"You won't."

With a doubtful sidelong glance at my son, I knelt beside Freddie, putting my hand on his thigh. "Good morning," I whispered. "I hate to wake you, dear, but it's morning, and the floor is no place to sleep anyway."

"Dear?" Danny repeated with a little smile.

I shrugged. "Well, he says it, why can't I?"

"You never called him that before. All you call him, I think, is Freddie."

"I call him other things too."

"When?"

"When we're alone."

"Like what?"

"All kinds of things," I replied with a smile as vague as my answer. "But even then, he's much more the purveyor of pet names than I am."

Freddie, however, had not stirred. Lips pursing in concern, I shook him gently, and raised my voice a little. "Freddie?" But once again, there was no response.

"Maybe you should call him by one of the other things," Danny suggested.

I opened my mouth, about to reply when I caught the corner of Freddie's mouth twitch, as if in a smirk- and my eyes narrowed. Not a moment too soon, I recalled that he had deadbolted the door last night, so that our lovemaking would not be disturbed- meaning someone must have let Danny into the room.

Seems like another little game is afoot. Very well, my prince, I'll play along.

"It's a good thing he's asleep," I sighed as I stood and ambled toward my phone, stretching my arms as I went. "Otherwise I couldn't sit here peacefully and drool over pictures of Richard Dreyfuss."