Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

16. Domestic Bliss

A/N-

This definitely should have been split into two chapters sorry haha. It'll be a trek and a half to read, but I hope you enjoy! X

F.M
Kensington, U.K
Saturday, November 5th.

"Hayes is just in the shower." I carefully sipped at my glass of water as I looked up at my assistant. "Oh, you did the shopping."

Phoebe froze in the threshold. He then turned around and let the grocery bags drop slowly to the floor. Oh for fuck sake. My assistant's jaw worked over and back as if unable to speak. Obviously Peter thought that must have been an invitation to join our guest.

"What?" He finally managed. "What did you say?"

"He's in the shower." I repeated, "Hayes."

"I'm going to need a minute-" Phoebe sat down at the table, "-to process. I need a minute to process this information."

Okay, now he's just being a drama queen.

I proceeded to fill my assistant in on the situation, explaining that Hayes and I didn't have some elicit rendezvous (unfortunately) and that he just had some type of nervous breakdown. He had nowhere to go, and smelt like the country, so here he was stealing my shampoo. Despite of the detailed and entertaining tale I weaved, Phoebe didn't seem to care one bit. There was one point in the story that snagged his attention, and simply kept his interest for the entire time.

"So..." Phoebe's fingers brushed at his moustache, "What you're saying is...that my Hayes... is in the shower?"

"For fuck sake!" I snapped, "How about you settle down?"

"I don't think you realise the gravity of the situation Freddie, I really don't."

"What situation?" Hayes' expensive voice rang out from behind us.

We both whirled around to take a look at my temporary house guest. Phoebe's face was bright red, so I don't even want to know what he was thinking. Me on the other hand, I was a picture of calm, in fact I smirked a little at his ensemble. Mr Critic didn't cut half the imposing figure he usually did when wearing a suit. He looked completely different: good different. He wasn't much taller or broader than me, but the black jeans and red T-shirt I provided him fit him rather snugly. Why didn't I pick out something tighter?

I squinted my eyes, "The shirt is inside out."

"It had a bloody rainbow on it." Hayes grumbled and ran his hand through his damp wavy hair. My fingers yearned to run through the dark strands, but my brain gave them strict orders to stay put.

"And what dear? Someone from work would see it?"

"I'm just not five." He huffed because apparently only children wear clothes with graphics on them, or colours, or T-shirts.

Hayes smiled politely at my assistant, "Hello Peter."

"H-hi."

Hayes frowned at Phoebe's squeak before his gaze returned to mine, "Do you buy all your clothes a size down?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

I was treated to a small lopsided grin that sent a little thrill up my spine. "Do you want a different shirt then?" I managed to ask despite of the sudden tightness in my chest.

"Yes."

"It'll have to be Queen merchandise in that case." I decided in an attempt to piss him off.

Hayes' lips thinned whilst he considered his options for a moment. He sighed deeply as if one of the options were a slow and painful death, "Queen shirt it is then."