Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 62

The end of the day crept up on the entire university, sending the students off to their dorms and homes while their professors packed their bags and turned off the lights. In the basement, Roger finished adjusting the last piece to his violently disassembled kit and heaved a sigh just as the hands of the small clock resting against the stolen—or as the music instructor preferred to think of it as, borrowed—coffee mug fell on the twelve and six, glancing over at Freddie who had been scribbling away at the desk.

"In the land where horses born with eagle wings and honey bees have lost their...their..." the dark-haired man sang quietly under his breath, tripping over the end of the phrase and biting the end of the pen he was using for inspiration.

"Stings," the blonde mumbled, picking himself up off the ground—his body still aching all over—and brushing the dirt off the back of his pants, "The honey bees have lost their stings."

Freddie gasped, meeting Roger's tired gaze and repeating as though he was in a trance, "The honey bees have lost their stings." He smacked the notepad he held in his hands with the pen and exclaimed, "My god, Roger Taylor, you're a genius!" He quickly wrote down the word and stared at the completed line, smiling widely. "You know, I know you gave up on being a musician a while ago, babe, but I still think you could do it. You've got a knack for things like this—you really do."

"It's time for us to go, Fred," he announced, avoiding the suggestion with a chuckle under his breath as he made his way over to the desk and picked his coat up. "You said Mary'd be here around six, right?" he asked, slipping into the jacket.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at the absurdity of the blonde's question. "When did I say that?"

Roger's eyes widened at the realization of their situation. "Fred, please tell me you took the train to get here."

"Nope."

"A cab?"

"Now why would I do that when Mary's got a perfectly good car and left the keys on the counter for me?"

Roger couldn't hold back the frown that appeared on his face, the thought of his friend speeding down the streets of London—completely unsupervised—eliciting a concerned "Freddie..." out of him.

"Oh, don't act so surprised, darling. It's not like I haven't driven before!" He clicked his tongue and raised his index finger. "Though I will say that this time, I seemed to find myself at the head of a parade. Everyone was honking their horns and shouting things...it was all very exciting. Do they do that every day and I just don't know about it?"

The blonde chuckled sadly at Freddie's interpretation of what surely had to be the most chaotic traffic jam London's seen in years. He could picture it now—the narrow streets backed up from one end to the next as Freddie figured out how to shift gears, stalling with each attempt and getting more and more frustrated with himself. He could imagine the insults the drivers and Freddie shot back and forth between one another, conversations that went on without either person even looking in the other's direction. It was a sight that Roger wished he was there for, yet at the same time was grateful he was far away from, because he knew he'd only make the situation worse, laughing uncontrollably in the passenger seat and adding to his friend's irritation.

So, for the sake of avoiding a repeat of what inevitably happened this morning, Roger held his hand out and sighed. "Give me the keys, Fred. I'll drive you home."

Freddie groaned and reluctantly pulled the keys out of his pants' pocket, dropping them pettily into Roger's palm and muttering, "You're just jealous you don't get your own parades every time you hit the road."

"Yeah, that's it," Roger responded, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

The dark-haired man detected his friend's mockery and crossed his arms over his chest, mumbling, "You know, just because I don't have my license yet doesn't mean I can't drive. I drove you home that one night, remember? And I didn't get into one accident. Not one!"

The blonde rolled his eyes, wanting to mention his neighbor's damaged bumper—whose blemish seemed worse in daylight than it did in dusk and had yet to cause a scene—but opting to respond with a chastising, "Just because you can drive, Fred, doesn't mean you can't get arrested."

Freddie scoffed. "You say that like I haven't been arrested before." He tucked his hands underneath his arms. "Besides, since when did you become the responsible one? You know that if it happens, Mary will just bail me out like she always does."

Roger shook his head and went to pocket the keys, thinking about how one day Mary wasn't going to bail him out of jail. However, he was quick to contradict that train of thought when he reminded himself about how tightly wrapped around Freddie's finger she was. He was gay, for fuck's sake, yet she bent over backwards every time Freddie wanted something from her. As much as he despised her and she despised him, Roger pitied her.

"Well I guess she can thank me later for getting you home safely, then, huh?" the blonde joked before draping an arm around Freddie's shoulders and painfully guiding the two of them out of the room.