Every time you make a move

Flashback filler-Silence is golden: pt 1

*MATURE CONTENT WARNING*

The Whitley Suite, The Ritz-Carlton , Atlanta, Georgia, 7th December 1977

"The doctors? But we just checked in after being on the road for god knows how long"

"I have to, Monica. I want my throat to be ready for tomorrow night. Jim [Beach] is already looking for a practise nearby" Freddie unwrapped his white zigzag scarf from his neck and hung it up on a wrack next to their hotel suite door.

"We just got in through the door" Monica lifted her pyjamas out of her suitcase on the floor to hang it on the radiator by the window.

"Well, eveything is best done sooner or later in rock and roll, otherwise I'll get nodes again" he switched the bathroom light on.

"Isn't there any time for rest? It looks downcast anyway" she saw a rain cloud in the distance over the city skyline, and wanted to dodge the shower that it carried.

"After we find a doctor somewhere around here" he called from the bathroom, his croaky voice echoing against the tile walls.

"We? Why we?" she tucked her pyjama top around the top of the radiator.

"I want you to come with me, dearie. I need someone to communicate for me" He got the brush from his overnight bag and started fixing his shaggy black hair in front of the mirror.

"Can't you talk yourself?" she headed for the bathroom with her bag of toiletries.

"Not after throat injections," he rubbed his eyes, "my vocal chords need to relax for an hour or two"

"See, you're all groggy! You need a rest" she placed her overnight bag on the marble sink, trying to use any excuse to avoid coming along.

"Believe me when I say I'm knackered and parched but we're better doing this sooner than later..." he slung his arm around her shoulder, "I'm not allowed to eat and drink for an hour or two afterwards"

"Great, so I will have to put up with you when you're tired, hungry, and speechless... as if the time of the month wasn't bad enough" she retorted playfully as she stared back at herself in the mirror.

Freddie, despite being exhuasted, still looked dapper in his black leather jacket with the fur trimmed collar and his grey pants. Monica, on the other hand, was visibly more fatigued from being on the tail-end of her period and more than ready to lounge in her unwashed denim flares, blue tracksuit top, her hair unwashed and dark circles on her bare face.

"You've dealt with me drunk and high, you'll survive" he smugly grinned back at her reflection.

A knock sounded on their door before she could argue back.

"You get yourself cleaned up a bit if you want, I will answer it" he kissed her cheek, slipping his hand back out.

"I guess I have no choice... his bribes will win no matter how unglamorous I feel" she thought as he left the bedroom alcove, and grabbed her nivea from her bag, "I should be happy... I am travelling across America, access all areas with the greatest rockband..."

As she listened to Queen's manager discuss the appointment details and location of the clinic, Monica took a minute to insert a tampon and make herself more presentable, putting mascara on her puffy eyes. She huffed, pulling her greasy hair back from her face and tying it into a bun at the nape of her neck as she heard the door shut.

"There's a car booked for us on its way over," he came in with an umbrella in his hand, "Deaky's leant us his umbrella because it's started bucketing out there.