Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

1988: Just Waiting For the Hammer To Fall

A/N: This one shot is inspired by a prompt that one of my longest suffering readers has given me ahah. Thank you bubsy46 for the idea, and hopefully I got around to writing what you wanted in my very roundabout way ahah.

This one-shot is obscenely long, but I saw no point in trying to split it in two. I haven't been updating as frequently, so I may as well give it to you all in one!

Enjoy! 💜

George Griffith

London
July, 1988

I fought the urge to wince as a great big lump of a ginger cat brushed against my shin, leaving a trail of hair in its wake. Casually, I leant down to brush the fur away from my trouser leg, wishing the creature would stop being drawn to Cucinelli.

I felt as though my every movement was under scrutiny thanks to the judgemental gaze of the blue-eyed feline across from me. In contrast, the small sooty grey cat which lay beneath a free armchair, barely blinked its eyes in my direction. Which was just fine by me. My own gaze was locked on the other patterned cat that lay against its master's leg, and I wondered how many more of them would pounce out of the woodworks.

"George thinks I'm a crazy cat lady."

I startled out of my daze, "Pardon?"

Freddie sat across from me, ready to play the ever regal host at the drop of a hat. It was always jarring to see him at home, because he looked a far cry from his on-stage self. When I wasn't looking at his cats, I was looking at his rather loud Hawaiian shirt— or at least I think that's what they're called.

"You're just as terrified of them as Hayes is."

"Oh no," I chuckled, not wanting to offend the musician, "I'm not—"

"He is." My wife chimed in helpfully, "Hayes was always much worse, I could never understand it."

"They can be rather unpredictable buggers, I suppose." I cleared my throat, "A little too capricious for my liking. But considering you know how to deal with my brother, I'm sure they're no trouble for you."

"I would take 100 cats over an out of work Hayes." Freddie grumbled before he pulled on a quick smile, "I say that with love, of course."

"Yes..." I fiddled with my shirt cuff, "How is he faring?"

Freddie pinched the bridge of his nose, and slowly inhaled. It was rather strange to see him without his signature moustache, but it appeared as though he was growing out a beard.

"I have only been back a few days, and I realise that I should have come home earlier because he's gone half mad."

"Where is he?" Annie whispered, glancing about as if he may appear at any second.

"Outside." Freddie replied, "Reading."

"Ah, well that's good isn't he?" I smiled encouragingly, "Nothing better than a good book to keep one's mind—"

"When I say reading, he's noting grammatical errors and writing letters to publishing houses."

"Oh..." I sighed. It was much worse than I thought. "Has he started doing his translations yet?"

"Sorry?"

"That's the next phase." Annie informed him.

Freddie looked at me cluelessly, but he was clearly intrigued. There wasn't exactly a whole lot of new things I could tell him about my brother, considering he was the expert.