Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 24

As per usual, the four of us scrambled around the flat in preparation of the show. Freddie had made camp in the bathroom and refused to let any of us in until he had finished doing his makeup. Brian was situated on the couch in the living room, already dressed and going over the guitar parts he knew like the back of his hand but began to doubt every time we had a performance. He'd been doing that since we were in Smile together, and I didn't know why. As for John and me, we were in our bedroom, staring at the outfits Freddie had laid out for us with wide eyes.

"I am not wearing that," I grumbled.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," John replied dismally, stepping towards his bed and picking up the V-neck blouse whose deep neckline was embroidered with a somewhat floral pattern. He glanced back over his shoulder at me and sported a weak, supportive grin.

I walked up to my bed and snatched the sparkly black vest I'd been given up, shaking it in the air. "I'd rather go on stage naked than wear this monstrosity again."

The small grin on his face grew as he mused, "Again? As in, you've already worn it?"

"Once," I clarified, haphazardly folding the garment up and tossing it to the side, "It was one of the first shows Brian and I played with Freddie. He begged us to try a new name and a new look that matched." I sat down on the foot of my bed and looked up at the bassist, reminiscing, "The show went great, actually. It may have even been our best show, but that thing..." I pointed down to the pile of sequins on the floor, "...made it the worst."

"Oh, come on," he teased, "It's just a top."

A maniacal chuckle slipped past my lips. "Okay, John. If it's just a top, then you wear it."

He gasped and held the blouse I was fairly certain Freddie had acquired from the women's rack at the consignment shop he was always visiting close to his chest. "No, I like this one. And besides," his gaze trailed down to the vest for a split second before returning to me, "Only you could pull something off like that."

I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest, a facetious grin appearing on my face. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"What are you children arguing about now?" Freddie's voice broke into the conversation, the man leaning against the doorway between our bedroom and the hall. Thick, dark rings circled his eyes and his lips were a shade darker than they normally were.

"Roger refuses to wear the vest you set out for him," John answered, shamelessly throwing me under the bus.

My jaw dropped in shock at the betrayal before I stood up and tossed my hand down at the heap of a shirt, complaining, "It's too small for me, Fred."

"What are you talking about?" He stepped into the room and scooped up the garment, shoving it into my chest. "It's the perfect size for you."

I rolled my eyes and took the shirt into my possession, just to get Freddie's hand off my chest. "But it looks ridiculous." I looked over at John with eyes that pleaded for him to agree with me, but instead, he turned away and set the V-neck back down on his bed, beginning to undress himself with his back turned to Freddie and me. I returned my attention to the singer and offered, "I'll only wear it if John doesn't think I look ridiculous."

"Fine, then put it on and let's see," the flamboyantly dressed singer countered, resting his hands on his hips and, as a result, stretching the tight shirt he'd adorned himself with. I rolled my eyes and slipped the shirt I was currently wearing over my head, replacing it with the itchy yet eye-catching vest.

I squirmed inside the piece of clothing and began to scratch my chest as Freddie tapped John's shoulder, the newest band member looking warily over his shoulder, as if he was surprised to have been called upon. "What do you think?" he inquired, motioning over to me. I stood still, shooting daggers at the singer with narrowed eyes. Freddie huffed and said, "Well, don't just stand there, dear. Turn around; he can't determine how it looks just from one side."

"I hate you," I growled as I pivoted in place, stopping after I'd made a full rotation and returning to my itching.

"I think he looks quite nice," John finally gave his answer, sliding into the pair of leather pants Freddie had provided him with to accompany the blouse. The corner of his lip perked up into a smirk as he zipped the pants up, my visual daggers being redirected at him.

Freddie clapped his hands together and announced rather bluntly, "Then it's settled, Rog. You're wearing the vest."

"But I don't want to!" I whined, stomping my foot.

"Aww, you poor thing," he patronized me with pursed lips, "Now come on!" He smacked me on the ass, causing me to leap up off the floor like a volt of electricity had just ran through my entire body. "We've got a show to get to!" And with that, he waltzed out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

"You do look good in that vest," John whispered, a seductive undertone to his compliment.

"Fuck you," I murmured, grabbing the pants from my bed and leaving the room to go finish changing in the bathroom. Before I could get there, though, I bumped into Brian, the two of us looking at each other with eyes that made it clear we both had similar intentions. Our gazes traveled over to the opened bathroom door and instinct drove us forward in a competitive frenzy as we pushed and shoved our way down the hall, the taller man using his longer legs to his advantage and slipping into the small room before I could, throwing me out of the way and shutting the door in my face.

I punched the door in frustration and spun around, crossing my arms over my chest and resting my back against the door, pouting. I glanced over at John's and my bedroom where John was leaning against the threshold, matching my stance but wearing an opposite expression, with the corner of his lips curled up instead of down.

"What are you looking at?" I snapped. He put his hands up in innocence and walked towards the living room where Freddie was waiting for us. I rolled my eyes and nearly fell back on my ass as the door disappeared from behind me, glaring at Brian as he mouthed an apologetic "sorry" and brushed past me to join the other two. I shook my head and sunk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.