Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

1985: "If You're Gonna Cock It Up..." P- I

A/N:

Been a while since I updated here ahah, I hope you'll all enjoy! 💜 Strap yourselves in for Live Aid!

Garden Lodge, 1985

Jim Beach would forever rue the day he insisted on taking Hayes Griffith under his show-business managerial wing.

Like it or not, Hayes was in the entertainment industry thanks to his television show on the BBC, and needed all the management bells and whistles that come along with that. Hayes was already somewhat of a public figure thanks to his high-profile family, his controversial reviews, and famous connections, but in recent months he had established himself as a household name in the UK. Which meant the image he portrayed to the public needed to be somewhat carefully curated and controlled. Something Hayes fought against at every turn.

Why Jim made it his mission to take Hayes on, he would never know. Being responsible for Queen was one thing, but being responsible for both Hayes Griffith and Queen was bloody nightmare fuel.

However, it was Hayes and Freddie's... "friendship" that may send him to an early grave.

"Neither of you are listening to me!"

A tired Freddie was in the drawing room, splayed out on a chair so luxurious its frame appeared gilded. He wasn't listening to Jim's lecture, nor did he make much of an attempt to pretend that he was. If Freddie wasn't paying attention, Hayes who only glanced at Jim long enough to acknowledge his presence, certainly wasn't.

Jim quickly learned that his attention was impossible to keep a hold of if you weren't someone he was particularly interested in or comfortable with. Hayes' mind always appeared to be else where, but not in that typical dreamy, mindless sense. It seemed to Jim that Hayes was always in a defensive sort of state, and retreated into his mind to figure out all the potential offensives he may need to launch. 

Right now, Jim knew he appeared like the bloody enemy, barging in on the pair's surprisingly domestic morning, but someone needed to tell them to be more discreet.

"You two always badger me to help keep your names separate and out of the press, but you make it impossible!"

Hayes placed a cigarette between his lips and stood up to pluck the tabloid from Beach's loose grip. "Why are you needling out this photograph, it's a good one. Look how handsome Freddie looks."

Freddie chuckled whilst his gaze darted over a Japanese shopping catalogue. His spending was a subject that Jim had given up on long ago.

"My own wife doesn't look at me like that!" Beach tried to snatch the tabloid right back, "Photos of you two are fine, but you can't look like you... Hayes, you could stay somewhere else for a week or two."

"I dare say I could," Hayes murmured, "But I live here, so I won't."

"Watch the ashes, Hayes."

"I haven't lit it yet." Hayes hummed around the cigarette. He set about doing a spot of redecorating on the decorative grand piano where a sea of art and photos were displayed atop of.

"You live here, permanently?" Jim spluttered, completely caught of guard by the development. "How— since when was it this serious? You told me you were house hunting, Hayes, what happened?"