In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

60. Two Steps Back

Letting go of my hands, Freddie walked toward the turntable, temporarily breaking the spell. He browsed his record collection, muttering the artist names under his breath. "Let's see, um... Aretha Franklin? Not tonight. Jimi Hendrix? Can't really dance to that, and you don't like him anyway-"

I blinked, tried to recapture my senses. "Freddie, he's fine, I just don't think he's the be-all and end-all."

He waved his hand at me, going on, "Uh, the Stones, Joni Mitchell, more Aretha- Il Trovatore- darling, help me out here-"

"How about Al Stewart?"

"Not sure if I have any Al St- hey, where did this come from?" Freddie drew out an Al Stewart record, looking at me quizzically.

"Oh, I bought that at the record store a couple of days ago," I said offhandedly. "It's a good album- especially the last song."

"Year of the Cat. Hmm. I've heard that before, but I don't remember how it goes. Is it dance-able?"

"Very."

"Mm. Oh, why not. The title's good enough for me."

So Freddie placed the vinyl on his turntable and moved the needle to the very last track.

The music softly played through the turntable speakers- and in one smooth motion, Freddie seized me in his arms and started swaying us playfully around the parlor.

There was minimal space between our bodies as we danced through the dining room, into the kitchen, back to the parlor. I had only danced with him like this three times before: the Mercurena, the brief dance we shared on the floor of the Heatwave, and that sweet daydream on the bridge in Central Park. And now, this, one last gentle rock in his arms.

The thought gave me pause. Was this our last dance? Did I dare leave this man behind me, when I'd promised to stay? Even if I hadn't given my word, Freddie's generosity alone should have been enough to make me reconsider.

We passed the piano, and my eyes alighted on Yin and Yang. It was true after all, wasn't it; my personal feelings aside, I did feel as if I belonged with him, somehow.

Then again, the reason for that may be as simple as, I love him, and to add on to that, I've slept with him, so now we have this consummate connection. Good grief. I just don't know anymore.

Regardless of the road I chose, having sex with him tonight would not make anything easier- though the idea felt as tempting as ever before. I bit my lip, and tried to remember every reason in the world not to succumb- but I couldn't fully concentrate on any of them. How could I, with the man himself humming softly to the music, his arm securely locked around my waist, and that sweet licorice-cologne cloud engulfing me. Like usual, Freddie wasn't helping.

"Hey," Freddie cooed suddenly.

I smiled. "Hey."

"You're so quiet tonight," he said.

"I'm just thinking; there's a lot to think about."

"I know what you mean." He kissed my cheek. "Tell me, darling, what was it that changed?"

"Changed what?"

"What, um, turned you on to me?"

"You mean seven years ago, or when I arrived here?"

"I suppose what I'm asking is, what made you go from 'not in love' to 'in love' with me?"

"You know, I don't think it was any one thing," I mused. "Falling in love with you kind of sprang up out of nowhere, it took me a while to get over the fact that I was with you at all."