Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

41. Kooks

Freddie

Julia glanced up from the dishes and remarked, "Freddie, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were hungry."

I shut the fridge door. "What gave it away?"

"I don't know, might be the fact that you keep on staring into the refrigerator, walking into the pantry, that sort of thing."

"Rum cake only goes so far, darling," I replied. "Just a bit peckish is all, nothing big."

"We have food in the house, stuff to make a sandwich at least, knock yourself out." She waved her yellow gloved hand in the air as she spoke. Clearly she was not catching my drift.

So I shrugged my shoulders, sliding up beside her again. "I suppose I could... but..."

She swept her hair out of her face with her arm, looked at me. "But what?"

I drummed my fingers against the counter, glanced at random about the kitchen, humming innocently to myself. And then she realized.

"Ohhh," she nodded. "You want me to make you a sandwich, is that it?"

"Well, if you're offering..." I trailed off.

I could feel my lips curve in that little smirk she once told me I always wear. Her brow arched playfully- and my heart leapt with excitement. That was the sign, I knew exactly where this was heading. This was the very thing I was shooting for.

Here we go.

"Gimme a minute, okay?" Julia said, her voice dry.

"I need it now."

"Then you do it," she popped back. "That way, it'll be done perfectly."

"Darling, you know I can't be trusted to so much as operate a toaster."

"Don't give me that, Mr. Studio Wizard. Any monkey can use a toaster, now go make your own damn sandwich."

"Or what?"

"Or- I tell Modo to give Vanilla Ice an encore performance!"

(As an aside: may I simply say, regarding that droll little attempt at a tune- although I admittedly took great pleasure in watching Julia rattle off every single horribly stupid line by heart while swinging her hips naughtily to the beat- the man should be in jail. I'm not kidding. He ought to be locked up and never seen again, but according to her, apparently a little while back he was on some reality show, whatever that's supposed to be, and he is still very much a free man, and to me that only proves how sort of broken the justice system is, that someone can so blatantly plagiarize another group's work and have the stolen material become even more popular and thereby sort of graft the two artists -although I really don't believe Mr. Ice is at all deserving of such a title in the first place- together, inseparable, forever connected. It makes me so fucking sick. But anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest. I'm through bitching now. Carry on.)

I rubbed my hands together, saying slyly, "Ooo, yes, do."

"What?" Julia was confused. "Why?"

"Because if you turn that fucking tripe on but once more, then I shall have to make you a sandwich- with the wall."

She put her gloved hands on her hips. "Is that a threat, Freddie?"

I lifted my chin. "It's a promise. Oh, speaking of which, when is that lap dance going to happen, dear?"

She ignored the question. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"You're the one who said you preferred to work in the kitchen."