ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ
˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚
[ killer queen ]
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝.
Deacon and Brian had spilled all the information to you, often discussing possible mark-ups and loopholes they may have missed out on. They came to you in these desperate times, for you were a desperate measure. Freddie and the boys had dubbed you their unofficial lawyer of some sorts, but you knew that they were going to need someone with more experience in the field due to their rising fame.
You and Mary, escorted by the band and a man named Paul Prenter, made your way into the BBC studio. Mary was decked out in all oranges and red, perfectly contrasting with her fiery hair, whilst you opted for green leather high-waisted pants and jewelry, as well as a dark brown bell-sleeve top and black boots.
The boys had fanned out to their respective instruments, Brian and Roger leading you over to the drum set and vast collection of guitars. You found yourself watching Paul, eyes squinted in thought as you watched him argue with one of the directors, "Listen, I understand. I understand that it's the policy of the BBC."
Roger banged his drumstick on the ride cymbal, receiving a dull thud. "This is shit!" he huffed, shaking his head.
"Quiet down, Rog," you muttered, continuing to watch Paul.
"Oh, don't bloody tell me," he scoffed. "Eyes on the assistant?"
You turned around with a glare, hands going to your hips. "Get your head out of your arse for one minute," you sneered, earning a chuckle from Brian.
"What's the matter?" the guitarist asked you.
You shook your head, eyes remaining on Paul. "I... I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about him. Can't shake it."
"You got that too?" You looked over to Brian, nodding your head quickly. "Your gut feelings have gotten us out of some sticky situations. Glad to know we're on the same page."
You chuckled, nodding once again when you heard the leech, "I need you to explain it to the band, please! Freddie, boys," he called.
"Look, chaps, it is going to be playback," the director informed. "Lip sync is all that's required."
"We do know how to play our instruments," Roger said.
Freddie came in close to the director with a low voice, "You want me to lip sync?"
"I don't understand why we can't simply perform live," Brian shrugged.
"The audience will never know the difference."
"We'll know the bloody difference."
"This is the BBC. That's how things are done around here, alright?" the director snapped. "Don't be a nuisance."
He stormed off, and Paul went after him, but not before reassuring the vocalist, "Freddie, it'll be great."
He turned around, finding Mary with a sultry grin. "You'll just have to make sure no one's looking at your lips." He smirked, pinching her butt as he passed.
"Well, the way things are done are a load of bollocks, old chap," Roger mocked with a dreadful accent.
"This is the BBC," Brian added with a snorty expression.
"I'm relieved," John stated, earning a deadpan look from the guitarist.
"You would be," he murmured.
"Look, perfect performance."
Stage management and extras soon began finding their spots and fixing up last minute propping. The boys made their way up to the stage, but not before Freddie kissed you and Mary on the cheeks.
The two of you grinned madly, cheering alongside the others as 'Killer Queen' began playing. Freddie tried his hardest to not belt out the lyrics like he usually did. From the station room, the same director the band was mocking ordered around the camera crew. "Number two, only above the waist," he demanded when the camera had stayed on Freddie's lower abdomen for too long. "Camera up! Camera two! No one wants to see this while they're eating their meal."
When the band went for the tour in Japan, you were saddened by the fact that you couldn't go, due to an internship at a small law firm. But the boys and Mary did not fail to call you every night, informing you of the adoring fans and ear-piercing screams of the crowd.
You felt a flutter in your heart whenever Roger called you, which was a daily occurrence. He would speak for hours on end, and you would sit there and listen to the excitement in his voice, finding a smile that subconsciously curled at your lips.
You didn't exactly know how to describe your relationship. I mean, you spat out insults on the daily, but then there were soft moments shared between you.
"You should've seen Brian's face, Y/N. It was fucking hilarious!" Roger had just been telling you that earlier that night, a woman had thrown her panties at Brian.
"I can imagine," you giggled. "Poor Brian. I bet he was as red as a cherry!"
Roger let out a booming laugh through the phone, and you chuckled along with him. You were seated in your apartment in my pajamas, due to it being a day off. You could've been doing anything else, but you were quite content conversating with the drummer of Queen.
His laugh lolled to a stop, and you heard him breathe a sigh of content. "The band misses you," he said.
"Gosh, I miss them too... Do you miss me?" you asked with a smirk, receiving no answer for a moment, further fueling your amusement. "Come on, Rog, I know you do-."
"Terribly."
You let out a chuckle, biting the tip of your nail as you held the phone closer. "Well, you'll be delighted to know that the feeling is mutual."
You could practically feel the brilliant smile on Roger's face through the phone. "I'm going to hold that against you now."
"Roger, no-."
"Boys, guess who just confessed to missing me!" you heard him shout.
"NO!"
You drummed your foot on the ground, the heel of your boot making a soothing clacking sound. John had allowed you to wait on the tarmac, acknowledging the fact that you were an important figure to the band. And the boys wouldn't shut up about it.
He stood near you as you awaited the jet's door to open, and when it did, you let out a squeal, Mary reciprocating the noise. "Y/N!" she screamed, rushing down the stairs and bounding into your open arms.
"Oh, Mary! I missed you!" you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around the girl.
The moment you let her go, you were swooped up into another hug by Brian, and you gladly held on tight. "My favorite guitarist," you beamed.
"Oh, and what does that make me?" Deacon asked with a smile.
You rolled your eyes with a grin, encasing him in another embrace. "My favorite bassist, of course," you answered with a tut. "Bubs!"
Freddie, with his pearly whites on full display, took your hand and twirled you into a hug with a flourish. "Oh, how I missed you, my darling."
You pressed large, wet kisses to his cheeks as you pulled away. "Where's Roger?" you questioned.
"Right here, darling." You turned around, finding the drummer you had been far too excited to see - let alone admit - just hopping down the last step. "I guess you saved best for last?"
"You see? This is why I don't like you."
"Oh, come on."
"No, I don't think you understand the gravity of my hatred-."
You cut yourself off when he circled his strong arms around your waist, pulling your close to his body. His chin placed itself atop your head as he closed his eyes in bliss. "You could hug me back," he whispered sarcastically after a moment.
"I was getting to that," you softly huffed, proceeding to embrace him, fingers locking themselves in at his back.
"So, when was this a thing?" Deacon quietly wandered as Mary and the boys watched the exchange. All they could was shrug.
"I like it. Unpredictable," Freddie grinned.
"Your phones off the hook," Roger stated as he barged into Freddie and Mary's apartment.
"Roger! You can't just barge in like that," you scolded.
He brushed you off with a smile, before it dropped as he pointed to the hussy he had brought. "This is Crystal."
"Cheryl!" she corrected.
"Oh, that's right. My mistake."
"Where's your loo?" she questioned.
"Uh, just down the hall," Mary answered, and the girl nodded, making her way to the toilet.
"Oh, come on in. Make yourselves at home," Freddie deadpanned as Brian and John sat down in sync. You made your way to Mary, who offered you a smile as she patted the blush orange spot on the sofa beside her. You sat down with a chuckle as she rested her head on your shoulder.
"Hello, Mary. How's your dad?" he asked.
"Yeah, pretty well. Thanks," she smiled with a grimace.
"Good."
"What's going on, Brian?" Freddie interrupted.
"Well, if you'd answered your phone, you'd know already."
"This really isn't a good time, guys."
Brian halted his movements of opening the beer bottle in his hand. "John Reid called today. He has a little... tour in mind for us."
"It's not little, Brian," Roger intervened. "He's booked us a tour of America! The album's hit the charts in the US!"
"Oh, yes!" Freddie shakily breathed out. He looked back to you and Mary, your hand placed on your mouth in excitement. "Yes!"
Roger chuckled at his face which was contorted with awe, and the four boys stood up, all beginning to laugh due to the shock. "It's happening!" Brian cheered as they all embraced. You and Mary could only watch with gleeful smiles, the pride for your boys written all across your faces.