Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

15. When In Rome

Julia

Modo 1's timing was impeccable.

At five-thirty sharp, the crow of a rooster shot into my brain, followed by a sizable horn section blaring and the Beatles yelling "Good Morning, Good Morning" against my right eardrum.  (How's that for an effective alarm?)  Savagely I yanked the earbud out of my head and almost tossed it back toward the Modo.

"Modo, snooze!" I hissed.  The tinny hum of music stopped wafting from the buds, and all was still again.

Then I blinked, looked down at myself- and for a split second I actually wondered why I was contorted into a fetal position here in my big fuzzy papasan, and not tucked up between the bed sheets where I belonged.  But then I remembered.

Oh, yes.  Because the prima donna is sleeping in my bed.

I sat up and peered against the darkness.  Yup, he was still there, one arm laying limply over his face.  At least he looked comfortable.  I could hardly say the same for myself; I had a crick in my neck and my knees were a little stiff from being tucked up and still for so long.  With a wince, I rolled my head around against my shoulders and stretched, automatically pulling the buds out of Modo's headphone jack. 

Tonight, it is back to the sofa for me.  I don't care what he says.  Papasans are for afternoon loafing, not a good night's rest.

Fighting the urge to turn on the lights, I felt my way to the closet, slipped on my robe, and quietly closed the door to the bathroom.  I pulled my tousled hair back out of my drowsy eyes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, put in my contacts, swallowed my now ultra-necessary reinforcements, did a couple of other things, then tiptoed out of my bedroom and went downstairs.  As always, I smiled at the as yet-undecorated Christmas tree standing by my late grandfather's upright piano, but I didn't feel like listening to Yuletide carols just yet today; I put Yellow Submarine on the turntable and made sure it was connected via Bluetooth to Modo 2's speaker.  I suppose that was close enough, right?

"We all live in a yellow submarine," I sang under my breath so as not to wake any of the three boys, bouncing up the steps to the rhythm.  Perfect music by which I could start a pot of coffee, make Danny's school lunch, and get set for another day. 

By the time "All Together Now" started playing, Danny's lunch was packed and the coffee was ready.  I pulled out my daily cigarette and stuck it between my fingers.  I licked my lips in anticipation; the patches might have assuaged my nicotine need under normal circumstances, but not now.  Though I had gotten myself down to three cigarettes a week, each morning to follow would begin with a long sip of Joe and a long drag off a Marlboro.  Freddie was enough to drive anyone a little further into their addictions.

But I digress.

So, shutting my eyes, I raised my painted owl mug to my lips and drank.  Certainly tasted nice and strong today, which was just how I wanted it.  Then, my eyes still closed, I stuck the cigarette between my teeth, lit the end, and breathed the filtered, carcinogenic tobacco smoke right into my lungs-

"Good morning!"

The voice startled me so much I choked mid-inhale. 

I started hacking, bending over from the force of each cough, and nearly spilled hot coffee all over the floor.  I fumbled around for some water, but I couldn't stop coughing long enough to get a glass out of the cupboard.  Freddie acted fast. He took the mug and cigarette out of my hands.

"How long did you say you've been smoking?" he quipped, sticking the cigarette in his own mouth.

"Oh, y- you [cough] did [cough cough] did that on p-" I swallowed, and spat the last word out, "PUR-POSE!"