Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

1987: Great Pretenders

A/N--
I know it's been far too long since I updated, so I hope a few of you are still about to read hahah. I've been struggling with writers block, which will be very clear by this one shot, but I still hope it's a fun easy read for ye. Enjoy!💜

F.M
January, 1987
England

"Look at this lovely stray I found wandering around outside."

I glanced up to find Straker with his hand tightly wrapped around Hayes' forearm. A grin tugged at my lips before I quickly tossed the razor back in the basin. My initial excitement rapidly turned to a spiral of self-conscious worry when I realised Hayes had never seen me with my lip bare. I was uncertain as to whether or not I could handle his blunt reaction to the sight right now.

"What are you doing here?" I asked by way of greeting, "I told you to go straight home from the airport."

"Does he always speak to you like this?" Straker gasped theatrically and gently stroked Hayes' arm.

"It's usually much worse." Hayes replied solemnly before he turned his attention back to me, "I didn't want to go home. You're here, not there."

"Oh, he's well trained." Straker chuckled before I cut him a look that said 'get out'.

I was rather surprised when he actually listened and sped off out of the room without any further smart comment. Hayes' soft smile was rather subdued as he slowly made his way towards me. He was dressed casually in a pair of dark slacks, ivory shirt, and a tan leather jacket. His expensive shirt was rather crinkled and his hair looked unusually limp. A rough flight then.

"You must be shattered."

"I am a little tired." He ducked down and placed a quick kiss to my temple so that he wouldn't disturb the shaving foam littering my cheeks.

"Did someone try to speak to you on the plane again?"

Hayes' eyelids momentarily fluttered shut as if he were gathering strength, "Yes, actually."

"Oh no." I chuckled as he leant up against the vanity table. "How awful."

"It was awful. I ended up in the middle—"

"—you can't call it the middle class section."

"Bloody hell, I wasn't going to!" Hayes chuckled and nudged his knee against mine, "I was going to say that I was stuck in the middle seat."

I frowned, "And you managed to survive this terrible ordeal?"

"The lad on my left recognised me, which was mortifying." He explained and shucked off his jacket, "And he was an aspiring musician."

I plucked up my razor and returned to shaving.

"He had something called a "Walkman". A convenient little device which meant that he could show me his music on the flight."

"Was he any good?"

Hayes simply exhaled, "No."

"So you aren't going to pass his demo along?"

"No." I felt his intense gaze rest on my face, "You're getting dangerously close to your lip."

"Mhm." I chuckled hoping he could just ignore my new look for now, "Who was on your right?"

"A lady," Hayes languidly stretched his arms behind his head, "Who had just found out about her cheating husband, and was on her way back to England to confront him."

"I'm sure you were a great comfort to her."

"She drank the plane's entire stock of wine."

"Poor girl sounded like she needed it."