A Man For All Seasons (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

22. Go, Part One

Julia

By the time I stepped out of the shower- a quick, brisk affair, intended more to help me pull myself together than make me feel good- it wasn't even half-past seven. I let down my messily piled-up hair, cringing when I caught myself in the mirror. Of all the occasions on which to have a bad face day, this had to be the most inopportune. I had seen crumpled-up fast food wrappers lying in a ditch on the highway with more visual appeal.

Well, at least, he won't remember, no matter how awful I look, I told myself, taking a tiny bit of comfort in that fact as I studied my still puffy eyes and that lingering redness surrounding my nose. Holding it all in while cooking breakfast had not been easy. Don't get me wrong, I could have killed Freddie after his little crack about Stuart. But momentary rage folded in the face of my much greater sorrow, to the point that I had to bypass eating with the boys entirely to spend the next ten minutes bawling under a cold shower. After all, even Rudy could talk me off the ledge only so far.

I tapped my phone screen, which showed that no messages had come in since five minutes before. Thirty minutes remained until Freddie was scheduled to be passed back into the rats' custody. Unfortunately, there were still numerous tasks that needed to be accomplished, loose ends that had yet to be tied up before Danny and I could hit the road. Although a good portion of me would have preferred to make love with Freddie every second between now and then, and every second thereafter to be perfectly honest, I still had other responsibilities, inconvenient though they were.

With a decisive nod, I adjusted my towel. "Better to be in motion anyway, than just sitting on my hands," I sniffed. "I know Freddie would agree."

So I stepped out of the bathroom, leaned toward the clothes I had left waiting on the bedspread. This slight movement caused the towel to slip from my body, but I didn't mind too much; the door was shut, with no one but myself for company.

I had barely hooked my bra into place, however, when I realized something had changed about the luggage strewn around my feet. John's and my cases were closed, where only ten minutes ago they lay open and dangerous across the floor. Even more jarring, beside mine sat a third bag, one I kept stored under the bed and practically never used.

Did I pull that bag out? I don't remember. I mean, I must have, I just can't recall doing that at any point. I really am losing my mind.

I bent over to take a look. Inside I found sweaters, jeans, shirts, socks, underwear- all men's styles and sizes, all stuff I had purchased for Freddie last week. I squinted, my confusion mounting. "What the hell-?"

"You know, you really should ask before nosing round in another man's bag," Freddie's voice crooned from out of nowhere.

Startled, I looked up just in time to watch him rise from behind the bed like some smirking, voyeuristic ghost. First impulse was to spout off some indignant remark about privacy, or the virtue of knocking before entering. But too quickly I recalled my lack of clothes and makeup. Although Freddie had certainly seen me enough times without either one, I hit the floor, crawled around to the other side so that I too was invisible, and snatched my change of clothes off the top.

That's when Freddie began chuckling to himself- which only deepened the flush in my cheeks. "Well, I'm glad you think it's so funny."

"Sorry, dear, I simply wasn't expecting the 'stop, drop, and roll' bit," he laughed.

"And I was not expecting you to ignore the fact that the door was closed," I muttered, kicking my way into my jeans. "At this point, though, shame on me for assuming anything less."

With a little cough, Freddie drew himself up to full height. "Need any help wi-"

"STAY right where you are, you- you peeping Tom, you."