A Babe Without A Name (A Brian May / Queen fan fiction)

10

Heather

"Man, you're really knocking them back!" Roger was in awe as I took the last sip of another drink.

The familiar burn excited me, and the fuzzy feeling I had going on was everything I needed after my shitty almost-week spent in the past.

We had all made ourselves comfortable in Freddie's flat. Brian was stretched out on the sofa, swirling his glass in one hand and watching us in amusement. Freddie was behind the counter pouring drinks for us all, occasionally leaving his post to play a few random notes on his piano. Roger was sat on a barstool sipping on a glass of brandy. John and I were dancing together in the center of the room.

"Okay, Okay so show me the walk again, I think I can
do it this time!" John set his drink down on the counter and got into position.

"It's called the moonwalk, John." I explained, as I shuffled backwards in a true Michael Jackson fashion. John was a completely different person when he was drunk. Normally he was silent, but now he was practically yelling every word he said, and dancing around the living room wildly.

I love drunk John. In fact, I love all of the guys right now. (Well, besides Brian.) I don't think I've ever laughed harder in my life than I have tonight.

"Waiiiit, do it again! How do you do that?!" John lamented, bending over to watch my feet.

"It's a wonder she's still standing at all." Freddie joked as he poured himself another glass of straight vodka.

"I told you I have a high tolerance!" I laughed while demonstrating the moonwalk again for John. "Speaking of which, hit me with another one, Freddie!"  I slid my empty glass down the countertop for a refill as if we were in an old western movie.

Freddie shook his head in mock disbelief. "Unbelievable. Well I guess this proves your theory wrong, Roger."

"What theory?" I asked Roger, stopping my little dance so John could give his best attempt at it. Roger's blue eyes went wide, and he brought his own glass up to his lips to avoid my question.

"Roger had it in his head that you would be rather innocent. Oh god, what was that dreadful nickname you had given her? It's seemed to have slipped my mind." Freddie was holding back a smile while he poured me another cup of vodka and cranberry juice.

Roger kept silent, but the guilty look on his face told me that he had indeed speculated about me with his fellow band mates.

"Virgin Mary! It was Virgin Mary!" John answered excitedly for Roger, making the drummer groan. "Did I do the walk right that time?"

I ignored John's plea for constructive criticism, and settled my eyes on Roger, who was avoiding my gaze.

"Roger?" I made my voice purposefully low, and strutted up to the barstool he was sitting on.

He slowly and reluctantly faced me. "Yes?"

"Is that true?"

He gave an uneasy nod. "I really hope you're in a 'kill the messenger' type of mood right now."

"Well maybe if you knew me better, you'd be able to tell what type of mood I was in." I playfully squinted my eyes at him. "'Virgin Mary'? I mean really?"  Freddie handed me my now full glass, and I took a long sip.
—————
Brian's POV

"Well do tell us more! I mean we're dying to know all about you." Freddie cooed to Heather.

At first, I told myself that I would be staying sober tonight. But my resolve had cracked sometime after everyone started getting buzzed and having fun. It sucks to be the only one who isn't drunk in a group of people.