Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 89

"Phone call for Mr. Roger Taylor," Freddie sang into the blonde's ear, startling him awake and bringing attention to the pain that surged through Roger's back from sleeping on the couch. However, the pain wouldn't have the chance to be acknowledged as the dark-haired man's eyes traveled down to his friend's torso and doubled in size, Freddie instantly recognizing the article of clothing Roger still had wrapped around his waist. He gasped. "Is that my—"

"Who'd you say it was?" Roger cut Freddie off, snatching the telephone out of his hand and bringing it up to his ear before he could receive an answer. It wasn't like he was going to get one anyways, his friend too concerned with the jacket covering the blonde's lower half. Just as Freddie parted his lips to interrogate him about it, Roger cupped his hand around the bottom half of the phone and asked, "Hello?"

"Roger, thank god you're there," Stewart's voice sounded through the speaker. "I've been trying to reach you all morning!"

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Wait, what time is it? And more importantly, how'd you get this number?"

"Ever heard of a thing called an operator, Rog?" the other blonde joked, neglecting to inform him of the hour. It seemed inconsequential, though.

"Well, yeah, but...how'd you know I be here?" A blush washed over Roger's cheeks.

Before the drummer could tell him that he told him at the airport when they first arrived that he'd be staying with Freddie, the man in question yanked the coat from around Roger's waist and flipped the blonde off the couch. The phone flew out of his hand as a result, and his bare ass became exposed. Roger couldn't resist the loud, "What the fuck?" that slipped past his lips as his head jerked up and his eyes met Freddie's stuck-out tongue. The petty friend sauntered off, leaving Roger to pick himself up from the ground and slip into the pants he had bunched up at the farthest end of the couch. After zipping his fly with an aggravated eye roll, he circled the piece of furniture and retrieved the phone that was slingshot into the entryway and landed among the pile of mismatched shoes. "Stewart? You there?"

"What the hell was all that?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," the blonde rattled off, slipping his free hand into the pockets of his pants and changing the subject with a simple, "What's up?"

"Well, Sting and I were hoping to rehearse this morning. Do you think you can be at Royal College—"

"Imperial College!" Sting chimed in, though his voice was much quieter than Stewart's. "We're at Imperial College, you idiot. Not fucking Royal College. Jesus..."

"Right, Imperial College," Stewart echoed his bandmate. His annoyed eye roll was heard in the pause that impregnated the conversation before he turned his attention back to Roger and asked, "Can you be at Imperial College in, like, the next half hour? We want to go through the set list with you and make sure we're good to go for tonight."

"I-I...sure," the blonde stammered, nodding his head as if Stewart could actually see him. "I'll be there soon."

"Great. See you then!"

With that, the line was cut and Roger looked into the kitchen where Mary had been standing, leaned against the counter just like she was the night before, but this time, instead of a bottle of wine in her hands, there was a teacup. Her frigid gaze cut through Roger like a knife, sending a chill down his spine as he dared to enter the room and place the phone back in its cradle.

"Who was that?" she inquired, taking a sip of the steaming beverage while not breaking her stare with the blonde.

"A guy from the band," he answered uneasily, taking another risk by venturing farther into the room to grab himself a cup of tea. Just like Mary, his eyes didn't leave hers once as he picked the kettle up off the stove and poured himself a cup, adding, "He wants to practice for the show tonight."

"Too bad you're out of a ride," she sniggered, the corner of her lip pricking upward into a malevolent smirk. "Freddie and I have plans this morning to pick out the flowers for our wedding."

"Oh, that's still happening?" Roger shot back, unwilling to let her be the only one allowed to play dirty. "I thought you might have called it off after what you told me last night. You know, since—"

"Freddie!" Mary exclaimed, swapping out her smirk for a wide, welcoming grin. Roger glanced back and watched as the dark-haired man waltzed into the room, joining his side and pushing a teacup and saucer down the counter—the porcelain clinking with Roger's and sending ripples across the surface of the hot amber-colored liquid. Without even having to ask, the blonde poured his friend a cup. Freddie refused to express his gratitude as he snatched the teacup up off the saucer and brought it to his lips.

Mary cleared her throat and attracted the attention of both men, her eyes locked on her fiancé as she asked, "Are you looking forward to going to the florist today, Fred?"

"Of course, dear," he lied, flashing her his most convincing smile. "I'm looking forward to Rog's show tonight too." The dark-haired man shifted his gaze from Mary to the blonde, tacking on, "Just as soon as I forgive him for absolutely ruining my favorite jacket."

Roger scoffed. "Oh, come on. All your jackets are your favorite, and I didn't ruin it!" he cried out in defense. "I just used it to—"

"I don't want to know, darling," Freddie interrupted him, raising his hand to silence him. "Just like I don't want to know what you and Brian did in our living room last night."

"He's getting us a new couch," his fiancé bitterly interjected.

Roger rolled his eyes and told Freddie, "I need a ride to the college to practice with the guys. Do you think you can convince Miss Stick-Up-Her-Ass to drive me there?" He nodded his head in Mary's direction.

Before she could object, Freddie replied, "I mean, I don't see why we couldn't drop him off on our way to the florist. I'm sure it's not too far out of the way." He looked over at his clearly unhappy fiancé. "Right, Mary?"

"I don't know, Freddie," she growled through clenched teeth. "We're already cutting it pretty close. I don't think we'd have time."

"Come on, Mary," the dark-haired man tried to persuade her. "It's one ride, and we can just explain to the—"

"No!" she snapped, her eyes so wide the blonde thought for sure they'd pop out of their sockets.

Freddie sighed and turned his attention to his best friend, winking at him and whispering, "We'll drop you off."

Mary grunted and threw her teacup into the sink, storming out of the room and retracing the steps she took last night up the stairs. Freddie and Roger shared an amused grin before the latter cleared his throat and said, "I think she knows, Fred."

"Oh, I know," the dark-haired man affirmed, taking a quick sip of his tea before adding, "But we agreed not to talk about it."

The blonde chuckled in disbelief. "So what, you guys are still going to get married even though you're...and she...?"

"Yup," he murmured, downing the hot beverage in one sip before smacking his lips and patting his friend hard on the shoulder. "Now let's just get you to that school. You've got a show tonight."