The Fantastic Drowse (Maylor)

Weather the Storm

A/N:
Gets a bit angsty at the end so enjoy this picture featuring Brian's rainbow toe socks that I've been laughing at for the past 45 minutes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"That's ridiculous. We're not doing that."

Brian shook his head, laying his guitar in his lap. He was done with the conversation. It would never work out well.

The top room of the cabin made for a great studio space. Trevor even talked about recording equipment he planned on getting from a friend of his who owned a studio in the 60's and 70's. The prospect of recording their songs for the first time was exhilarating! Until the arguments ultimately came with it.

Sure, they already had technically had three 'albums' that they had compiled on tapes and recording equipment from the school, god knows how with the shit of a year they all had especially when Roger decided to take a topple off the roof and break his arm (and the month he ran away, but we won't talk about that), but a real chance to record? To make a real record with decent equipment? Trevor even gave his blessing to let them stay half the summer to write and record, though Winifred was hesitant and it took hours to convince Freddie's parents and John's mum. As soon as permission was granted, they got to work. It was amazing!

But again, it came with arguments.

"Come on, Bri, it's a good song." Roger rolled his eyes, tapping his drumstick on his knee. "You're being closed minded, not very rock n roll."

"No, I'm not! What is the song even about?" Brian questioned, looking to the singer who was sat at the piano, an annoyed look on his face.

"It's pretty obvious, darling, if you'd open up your mind a bit and actually listen." Freddie crossed his arms.

"Well, I'm not putting in any guitar." Brian concluded, propping his guitar up to show the finality of his statement. "The sound isn't right, it won't work."

"We'll manage." Freddie bit back, looking to Roger. "You with me?"

Roger nodded, sending a look to the stubborn guitarist only to be met with an annoyed look. "Don't look at me like that! It's a good song, Bri! You're the one being a prick!"

The guitarist threw his hands up in exasperation. An deeper argument brewing in his throat.

"Roger, I am so sick and tired of you-"

"Well take a fucking nap!"

"No!" Brian huffed, standing up and walking out of the studio.

Roger rolled his eyes, pushing himself back in the chair. Putting his hand out, he looked at Freddie.

"Pass me the bloody kazoo."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I broke it."

"What do you mean you broke it, we need that!"

"I mean I bloody broke it! It is broken, out of order, it's fucked!" Roger huffed, throwing the piece of plastic in the trash. "Fucking rubbish, that's what that is. Don't bloody need it anyway. I'll use my fucking voice."

"Oh, don't be such a prat!" Freddie rolled his eyes. "Fine, but you better be able to sound even better because I am not walking three bloody miles to steal another one."

"Are you joking? You've heard my trumpet, I can do kazoo with no problem. The kazoo wishes it was me." Roger smirk, tossing a thimble up and catching it before tapping it on the table.