Starstruck

Part 11

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Not sure that Veronica went with Queen to Ridge Farm at all, but hey— creative licence!

Word Count: 6.9k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You woke up late, and this you knew because from downstairs you could distinctly hear arguing, and it was rare that any of the others deigned to get up before eight in the morning, which was when you normally awoke.

You wandered into the kitchen with your hair still quite mussed by sleep, but in the very least you were dressed. Unlike Queen, who were waltzing about in pyjamas and dressing gowns.

"It's just a bit weird, Roger," Deacy was saying.

"Weird? It's just a song, John!"

"Just a song?" said Freddie. "Then tell me, darling, why it is you're pushing so hard for it to be on the album, hm?"

"With my hand on your grease gun?" Brian recited from a piece of paper, glasses on his nose. "Really, Rog?"

"It's a metaphor, Brian!"

You couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, good morning, Y/N," Freddie addressed you.

"Hello everyone," you said, amusement still on your lips.

"Morning," Deacy responded, while Roger grumbled something.

Brian smilingly handed you a cup of coffee. "Back me up on this, would you?"

You leaned against the countertop, next to Brian, whose posture was so positively awful that you could almost look directly into his eyes. But you avoided that carefully; his pyjama top was only half-buttoned, and the pale skin of his chest was visible beneath the open collar. It reminded you of how he had looked on the album cover of Sheer Heart Attack, how your eyes had fallen to where he lay with wide eyes, parted lips, his shirt unbuttoned. Borderline indecent. And outrageously attractive. As he was now.

You cleared your throat. "I don't know, what're we talking about, exactly?"

John rolled his eyes. "Roger's car song."

"Car song?"

"Mm," Brian sipped his coffee.

"You're just jealous that I've written something on guitar that's better than anything you've written," Roger sniffed.

Brian looked affronted. "I'm the guitarist, I have a right to be offended, and no, it's not better than mine."

Roger scoffed. "You've written exactly two songs—"

"Two and a half," said Brian pointedly.

"Oh, sorry, two and a half. And exactly one of them is written with an electric guitar piece, and the other one is on... what?" Roger searched for the word. "A ukulele?! This is rock 'n' roll, Brian, not bloody folk music!"

"Folk music?!"

"You play the ukulele?" you interjected.

Brian glanced at you. "Not very well, but—"

"He's going to learn to play the harp too," Freddie added. "For my new song."

With a smile in your direction, Deacy said, "You know he plays the piano as well, Y/N?"

You blinked at Brian. Talk about multi-talented.

"Concentrate for a fucking second!" Roger exclaimed, and everyone jumped. "No, don't concentrate on Y/N, Brian."