A/N: This one shot is inspired by a prompt that one of my longest suffering readers has given me ahah. Thank you bubsy46 for the idea, and hopefully I got around to writing what you wanted in my very roundabout way ahah.

This one-shot is obscenely long, but I saw no point in trying to split it in two. I haven't been updating as frequently, so I may as well give it to you all in one!

Enjoy! 💜

George Griffith

London
July, 1988

I fought the urge to wince as a great big lump of a ginger cat brushed against my shin, leaving a trail of hair in its wake. Casually, I leant down to brush the fur away from my trouser leg, wishing the creature would stop being drawn to Cucinelli.

I felt as though my every movement was under scrutiny thanks to the judgemental gaze of the blue-eyed feline across from me. In contrast, the small sooty grey cat which lay beneath a free armchair, barely blinked its eyes in my direction. Which was just fine by me. My own gaze was locked on the other patterned cat that lay against its master's leg, and I wondered how many more of them would pounce out of the woodworks.

"George thinks I'm a crazy cat lady."

I startled out of my daze, "Pardon?"

Freddie sat across from me, ready to play the ever regal host at the drop of a hat. It was always jarring to see him at home, because he looked a far cry from his on-stage self. When I wasn't looking at his cats, I was looking at his rather loud Hawaiian shirt— or at least I think that's what they're called.

"You're just as terrified of them as Hayes is."

"Oh no," I chuckled, not wanting to offend the musician, "I'm not—"

"He is." My wife chimed in helpfully, "Hayes was always much worse, I could never understand it."

"They can be rather unpredictable buggers, I suppose." I cleared my throat, "A little too capricious for my liking. But considering you know how to deal with my brother, I'm sure they're no trouble for you."

"I would take 100 cats over an out of work Hayes." Freddie grumbled before he pulled on a quick smile, "I say that with love, of course."

"Yes..." I fiddled with my shirt cuff, "How is he faring?"

Freddie pinched the bridge of his nose, and slowly inhaled. It was rather strange to see him without his signature moustache, but it appeared as though he was growing out a beard.

"I have only been back a few days, and I realise that I should have come home earlier because he's gone half mad."

"Where is he?" Annie whispered, glancing about as if he may appear at any second.

"Outside." Freddie replied, "Reading."

"Ah, well that's good isn't he?" I smiled encouragingly, "Nothing better than a good book to keep one's mind—"

"When I say reading, he's noting grammatical errors and writing letters to publishing houses."

"Oh..." I sighed. It was much worse than I thought. "Has he started doing his translations yet?"

"Sorry?"

"That's the next phase." Annie informed him.

Freddie looked at me cluelessly, but he was clearly intrigued. There wasn't exactly a whole lot of new things I could tell him about my brother, considering he was the expert.

"Well, you know how Hayes wanted to be a jockey when he was younger?"

Freddie nodded, "He was too tall."

"Yes, one summer he returned from Belfast, completely stretched out."

Oliver and I had been a little peeved to find the boy hadn't been capped by our mother's shorter stock. Our paternal grandmother took to calling him a lanky streak of misery, which had of course been funny to us at the time because it was such a... common phrase to leave the delicate dowager.

"When father gleefully informed him that his jockey dreams were dashed, Hayes was sort of aimless, I suppose. The boy doesn't know what to do when he's aimless." I grimaced, remembering the absolute terror the snarky teen had been when he didn't have horses or music to distract him.

"Anyway, he took to translating original Latin passages into English... as one does. I think at the time, he translated some poetry by Propertius. He then compared his translations to the Penguin classics translation."

Annie started to laugh, causing me to smile, "Oh was that why he was acting like he invented the wheel?"

"Yes," I nodded, "He said that everyone had been reading the wrong translations for years."

"What age was he?" Freddie was smiling as if this story was utterly endearing, and not a vignette proving how bloody pretentious Hayes could be. Which was probably why they worked so well.

"About sixteen, I would say. He was seeing Victoria at the time... she thought he was translating the poetry for her."

At that, Annie found herself nearly dying of laughter as the memory came trickling back to her, "Oh god, I remember his face when Vic told him that he was very romantic."

"Why would you accuse me of that!?" I mimicked my brother.

I really should have known better than to speak of the devil, because he will appear. Metaphorically speaking that is.

"I'm glad you all find George's subpar impressions so entertaining.

The laugher in the room dissipated when Hayes appeared in the doorway. I did a less obvious double take than Annie, who half gaped at the sight of Griff still in scruffy sleep/leisure wear. It was 2pm. Griffith men didn't... lounge.

My gaze spent a significant amount of time trying to fight against the fact he was wearing Adidas slider sandals, before struggling to accept the green Nike shorts and the tatty open bathrobe he wore. It was a cry for help, plain and simple.

"I don't think I have ever seen your legs before." Annie commented, causing Freddie to laugh.

"Well," Hayes flashed a falsely sweet smile, "Today's your lucky day."

The duality of Hayes Griffith was exhibited in the next moment when he leant down to press a kiss on the top of Freddie's head before straightening up to send a piercing glare my way.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" He asked suspiciously.

"Just checking in." I replied, and tried to offer him a smile that said 'I'm on your side'.

Of course, he barely blinked in response.

I watched as he plucked one of those American baseball caps from his head. I don't think my mind had been actually able to register that he had been wearing it. The only other time I had ever seen Hayes wear such a thing was when him and Hugh Laurie were forced to imitate the Pet Shop Boys for a Comic Relief sketch on the BBC. It was last year, and involved Laurie and Hayes offending the real Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe, forcing the duo to quit, only to replace them with the two driest men in Britain. If you so much as hum 'West End Girls' Hayes shrivels up, which is probably why it's Edward and Lottie's favourite song.

Hayes was celebrated by the BBC for his two-minute Comic Relief cameos each year, but was now being villainised by the broadcasters for true activism. Not that he really gave a toss.

On June 23rd, Gay rights activists invaded the BBC television studios during the 6pm live, BBC News bulletin. It was no surprise really, because a month earlier a ban on the 'promotion' of homosexuality had been passed in parliament. People were dying, and this was what the government decided to charge forward with instead. Protests were just going to become the new normal, until people began to listen. Invading a live, widely watched news broadcast was definitely the way to go, but of course the group were tossed out before they could really say what they wanted.

A week later, a new group, from the same organisation, "broke" onto the set of the BBC's primetime Friday night slot. Which happened to be Hayes' live show. Security of course made an attempt to toss the group out, but Hayes told them to sit, and Niall, his producer made sure the broadcast wasn't cut out, and that was that. The group said everything they endeavoured to say and more, before Hayes thanked them, and they left calmly on their own accord.

Tory BBC was not at all happy. Which was why Hayes and Niall were currently suspended, "pending internal investigations".

I really couldn't have been prouder of him, but I was also worried. Hayes had begun to pull away from Rolling Stone, and was now out of work on television. That lad didn't know what to do without something to occupy his overactive mind. 

Providing him with a distraction was the purpose of my visit.

I cleared my throat, "You know, it's King George's weekend over at the ascot."

"I did know." Hayes replied, and tied his crimson dressing gown shut with a severe knot.

I watched the previously unimpressed grey cat emerge from its hiding place, before it trotted on over to Hayes. "I wondered if you would be attending."

"Did you, really? Thought you'd have more important things to worry about, minister."

I fought the urge to sigh at his accusatory tone, "Yes. I'm going... would you like to go?"

Hayes' lips kicked up into an innocent grin, "And this conversation couldn't have been a phone call?"

"Hayes, dear, do you think smiling masks the fact that you're acting like a tart?" Freddie mirrored the grin Hayes had offered me.

"Yes, where are my manners?" Hayes narrowed his eyes slightly, before reaching down to pluck up the grey cat who was weaving through his ankles, mewling for attention.

"Tea, anyone?"

"I'll help." Freddie immediately offered, "Earl Grey for you Annie, and Lyon's for my Georgie?"

"Yes, that's it. Thank you."

"Yes, you're very helpful, watching me boil the kettle." Hayes chuckled as Freddie got up to join him in the doorway.

The cat in his arms butted her head against his chin as if to say 'why is your attention elsewhere?'. The sound was audible, and Freddie seemed thoroughly amused by the scene. It also appeared as though this was a common occurrence, because Freddie scolded 'Dorothy' for her overeagerness on their way out to the kitchen.

Not even five minutes later, Freddie reappeared with a tray and a bright smile. Which indicated that he had not helped to make it at all. I couldn't help but laugh as he set the tray down on the coffee table in front of us.

"For you George; the King George III set."

"It's also Victorian, stop sucking up." Hayes cooed, before taking a careful sip of his own tea. "Freddie's been waiting for any excuse to whip out this set."

I carefully dipped a spoon into the flashy silver sugar bowl adorned with twin snake handles, as Freddie poured black tea from a teapot decorated with chased floral.

"Why hide it away, it's lovely." Annie asked.

Cautiously, I lowered a sugar cube into the dainty teacup, and sensed my wife's disapproving stare. She's been watching my sugar, salt and fat content like a hawk lately. I liked to blame my high blood pressure on my job, but Annie had other ideas.

"Jules." Hayes replied, and I felt myself wince at the fond utterance of his name.

"You know what he's like." His eyes shuttered for a moment, realising he had got the tenses wrong, but he corrected himself in the next breath as if it didn't affect him, "I couldn't wear leather shoes around him... an ivory tea set would have opened Freddie and I up to the scolding of a lifetime."

Everything seemed to click in that moment.

No BBC and less Rolling Stone, meant that Hayes had nothing in his life to help distract him from losing Julian. Knowing my brother, he quickly hid the grief somewhere shallow, until it broke loose with a vengeance at a later stage. His scruffy appearance, and his prickly demeanour suggested that the time was now.

"You'll come to the races, won't you?" I asked, knowing better than to ask him if he was alright.

"I feel like we don't see you much anymore." Annie pouted rather dramatically, which did cause Hayes' to smile briefly.

"Don't be offended," Freddie sighed as if he were a long suffering wife, "Ever since people started stopping him in the street for photographs, he hasn't been the same. Miss Kelly is too good for public outings."

"Bear in mind those people aren't in the photos alongside me," Hayes ran his fingertips along his jaw, "They just wished to capture my untainted beauty."

"I'm happy to see that the fame hasn't gotten to your head." Annie laughed, and I could tell that she just wanted to tug my brother down next to her and hug him. He had not sat down once since we had been here.

"What does a scrap of fame have to do with me being unapproachably handsome?" Hayes frowned, and Freddie threatened to toss a cushion at him if he didn't start behaving.

Hayes continued to stalked about the room. After my latest trip the zoo with my children, I couldn't help but find the sight of my brother quite similar to the captive lions who spent their days pacing up and down their too-small enclosures.

"When's the last time you slept, Hayes?"

Hayes paused in his tracks, "My primo sonno?"

"Oh don't tell me you're going back to that ridiculous pattern of sleeping for an hour or two at night—"

"— and an hour or two during the day. Yes." Hayes sniffed, "I see nothing wrong with wanting to embrace the biphasic method of our ancestors."

"They still managed to get at least eight hours of kip, and there's a reason that we've adopted the monophastic sleep pattern, Hayes."

"Do you consider yourself more informed than Aristotle, George? Do you?"

Freddie cast his eyes towards the ceiling, searching for patience, and I was ready to join him in his hunt. Annie begged me with her gaze not to get into a pointless debate with Hayes, because I always ended up ready to throttle him by the end of it. However, I felt like today may be the day I had the upper hand. He couldn't be too sharp if he was sleep deprived.

"Well, since you seem to know everything Hayes, you would know that artificial light forced a change in our circadian rhythms, so now monophastic—"

"Candles?"

"Pardon?"

"The artificial light that you speak of... are you referring to candles, which were all the rage in Rome when biphasic sleep was still en vogue?"

"You know I meant widespread artificial lights, on the streets—"

"You could have been clearer."

"Fine. The bloody introduction of all the bloody lampposts in the streets of Paris, 1668, changed the bloody sleep—"

"67'."

"What?"

Hayes finally took a seat beside Freddie. I tensed as a sickeningly smug grin stretched across his lips, "It was 1667."

"No."

"Yes."

"This is usually where George breaks out the Britannica." Annie placed her face in her hands. I highly doubted something as trivial as this was even in the Britannica, which meant Hayes was probably correct.

"Which always makes victory so much sweeter." Hayes tossed a crooked grin Freddie's way, who couldn't help but shake his head with amusement before pressing a quick peck to Griff's cheek.

"He doesn't need to be encouraged." I found myself grumbling.

"I do," Hayes nodded, "It fuels me."

Freddie nodded along, completely in sync with my brother, "And now you can ask him about the races once again."

"Go on," Hayes waved an impatient hand as if I were some lowly serf asking their Lord for permission to leave the village.  "Again. With feeling this time."

"Well, now I don't want you to go."

"Oh thank god," Hayes dropped his face to Freddie's shoulder dramatically, "I thought I was going to have to be sociable."

"You're doing a brilliant job of it now." Freddie murmured dryly, but his eyes were crinkling with laughter.

"Well, they should've brought the kids."

"I thought they had Charlie," Freddie agreed, "Only reason they made it past the gate."

Annie and I exchanged a small glance, but we were well used to Freddie and Hayes' tendency to speak to one another as if nobody else was there.

Hayes exhaled slowly and dragged a hand through his hair, tossing it into disarray. "I'll go to the races, if Edward is going."

"That's not the reason." Freddie scoffed. Even when his attention was back on us, he still reached over to try and tame a few stray curls of Hayes' hair, "I told him in the kitchen that I would need his help picking out a new suit, and everything seemed to change."

Hayes folded his arms, and a cheeky smile touched his mouth. "I refuse to keep looking at that silk nightmare in the wardrobe."

"Well you won't have to look at it in the wardrobe," Freddie hummed, "Because I might just wear it, honey."

"Silk, Freddie?" I tutted, and caught Hayes' gaze.

"He was slipping and sliding off of the furniture all day." He laughed softly in my direction.

"Fuck off." Freddie laughed loudly, "You borrow the shirt all the time."

"The shirt, not the suit." Hayes quickly clarified, "The shirt. Never the suit."

"So defensive." Freddie cooed before the both of them exchanged a few more joking murmurs.  As usual they got caught up in their own little tangent and one just had to wait for them to get back on track.

"I'm wearing my pink silk, like a clown... Pretending that Hayes stuck around—"

"—that's it. I'm definitely wearing it." Freddie declared. "And we're definitely going."

Hayes simply sighed in defeat.

Ascot, Berkshire
July 23rd

A lazy sun drooped over the Ascot racecourse as if to give the poor horses and their jockeys some relief from the day of racing ahead. It was also a relief for all of us following the unspoken dress code of three-piece suits and frilly frocks.

Of course a race couldn't be held in the royal borough of Windsor, without the royals being a part of the event. The stakes today were honouring King George IV and Queen Elizabeth, which made me a little worried about the demographic of people who would be attendance. The Ascot racecourse was also in the Maidenhead of Berkshire, which meant it was practically in the back garden of the Griffith family home.

I just hoped that my father would be too busy ruining lives that he wouldn't have time to watch horses that weren't being used to hunt foxes. When I asked Oliver if he could confirm our father's whereabouts, he didn't seem sure, but he knew Mum had mentioned that she might attend.

This meant that I couldn't relax unless I kept a constant eye on my younger brother.

Luckily, Hayes wasn't too hard to keep track of, especially in his natural element like this. Prior to a race, jockeys and trainers will walk their horses about a ring to show their condition. Hayes loved to suss out the competition.

"Griff, I wasn't sure if you'd show."

"I said I would."

Hayes had of course scrubbed himself up since the last time I saw him, and it made me question if his scruffy state had all been in my imagination. He had an uncanny resemblance to our father, with their severely sharp features, dark hair, and frosty eyes. Most people knew not to point out the resemblance, to either of them, especially not to Hayes. It made him extremely uncomfortable, because he truly wasn't as much of a statue as father.

"Is Freddie here?"

"Yes," Hayes smiled gently, proving that he wasn't a carbon copy of our father, "He was trapped by Elton John."

"And you ran away?"

"I ran away."  He agreed.

Hayes was dressed in a iron grey, three-piece suit, and was sporting a muted lilac tie. I eyed the crinkles that littered his ivory shirt, and concluded that it hadn't just been my imagination that he was a mess a few days ago. In our silence, he began the process of lighting up a Silk Cut cigarette, even though I had heard him vow to give them up several times.

"So, Hayes. Have you had any word from the BBC?"

Hayes sighed deeply, "Ah, that's why we're here."

"Yes— of course." I nodded and briefly thought about placing a hand on his shoulder but chickened out, "I'm worried that—"

"—I thought I would at least have time to get my affairs in order," Hayes murmured, "But here you are."

"What?" I tried to catch his gaze but he declined to meet it.

He ruffled a hand through his hair, revealing the small assault of grey at his roots that I hadn't noticed before. "I was wondering how long I could stay on the lam."

"On the what?

"I've broken the law?" Hayes arched his brows, "Or has that come in yet?"

It was clear then what he was getting at, in his usual, sly way.

"Hayes—"

"It's alright," Hayes thrust his wrists out to me as if to be bloody cuffed, and bowed his head, "I'll go quietly."

Younger siblings are truly a scourge.

"You're such a twat."

"What?" He straightened up, "I'm spreading my gay agenda. Is it prison time, a fine? Or have you not worked out the details yet?"

I had been in parliament when the Conservatives banned the "promotion" of homosexuality.

I had to sit there, as survey results were read aloud, weaponised, revealing that three quarters of the public thought that homosexuality was wrong. Every time I heard the word "abnormal" or "unnatural" tossed about, I couldn't help but picture them being directed right at Hayes, and I felt rage like I had never experienced it before.

When tweaking the legislature for article 28, I had come fairly close to tearing Lord Somers a new one when he personally invited me to "look in the animal world" to see how "abnormal" two males together was. He then proceeded to tell me that young children were impressionable, and they may pick up "bad habits" from any literature promoting such a lifestyle. I knew it would damage my career, but I couldn't help the way I ripped into that absolute prat until the speaker of the house insisted I leave.

I had been briefly suspended, but I was back in Westminster once again.

"I voted against it, as you very well know."

"Yes, this is what's called a joke, darling."

"Oliver did too."

Hayes flashed me a bland smile, "What an angel."

I knew Oliver was a no go zone, even if he was was... trying lately, so I quickly changed the subject.

"How's the job hunt going?"

Hayes' released a mirthless chuckle but declined to reply. Just when I thought his focus was completely on the array of horses being paraded around the ring, my brother tucked his racing programme into his jacket and turned his gaze to me.

"What makes you think I'm pursuing further employment? Rolling Stone kept me on, although I suspect that's only because Theo made it so."

"They kept you on because you're half the reason people read it."

"You do flatter me." Hayes replied drily, "Besides, I'm only suspended, much like you were. Well, without the part where I told Thatcher to "piss off". That'll come later."

I winced at the reminder of my brief suspension from parliament, "You told me that you quit?"

"Oh, I'm waiting for them to ask me back, then I'll quit. I like the drama of it." Before I could press any further, Hayes changed the subject, "Unfuwain is the favourite, but he's looking a little nervous. Mtoto looks more confident."

"Nervous? How could you tell?"

"All in the eyes." Hayes murmured, and a plume of smoke hit me square in the face.

"Hayes!" An irritatingly familiar voice whispered gleefully in greeting, before the man noted my presence and back tracked. "I uh— Mr Griffith! George, hello."

Lord Jeremy Byron was spruced up in your average, obscenely expensive, black suit, with a rich burgundy waistcoat peaking out from beneath his jacket. Annie and her friends used to chatter on, quite loudly, about how attractive they found the man. I knew once they met him, everything would change, because Lord Byron was a prat. Luckily, Jeremy and I rarely had much reason to speak with one another, but when we did speak, he always managed to casually ask about Hayes. He always pretended to forget his name too.

"Jeremy." I nodded stiffly.

Hayes simply exhaled.

Some typical, polite English small talk ensued, with Hayes contributing nothing until he was spoken to directly.

Byron cleared his throat, "Sorry to see you got yourself in a spot of bother with the press." He proceeded to throw my brother a meaningful stare, as if to say 'I hope this doesn't touch me'.

"Yes," Hayes smiled and it caused the man to flush red, "If only I had a wife to conceal me from all my rumours."

Jeremy laughed, although it sounded quite strangled. "Yes, Amanda will be pleased to know you were asking for her."

"I didn't ask for her."

"I er— no. You didn't." Jeremy dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief, "Perhaps you and I could speak privately for a moment, I realise you're a fellow philanthropist and I was thinking—"

"He's fine." I said gruffly, noticing the hand Jeremy had let fall casually against Hayes' back.

Hayes unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, "Isn't it crass to call one's self a philanthropist?" He asked me as if Jeremy wasn't there.

I opened my mouth to reply, but wasn't given the opportunity to speak.

"Crass?" Byron seemed offended, because he like many others at this higher echelon of society, thought they were automatically a good person if they donated to various causes once a year.

"Self-indulgent?" He offered up instead, "Ostentatious? Oh I don't know, George is going to accuse me of being pedantic, but I just think claiming the title of a philanthropist and wearing it like a badge negates all of the altruism tied up with the term."

"You think too much."

"And you don't think enough." Hayes rolled his eyes heavenward, "It was Aeschylus who coined the term 'philanthropy' as a love for humankind, which I'm afraid takes you out of the running. I say this as a part-time misanthrope, so there's no need to be embarrassed."

I suppose I should be thankful that Hayes was pointing his irritation towards the state of England somewhere else but me.

"You voted in favour of this new bill, which demonstrates that you do not harbour any love for humankind. Nor do you wish to better society. All the charitable donations in the world won't change that." He clapped him on the shoulder, "So no, Lord Byron, we don't need to discuss philanthropy in private."

Jeremy wasn't a man who appreciated being condescended, or made to look foolish, especially by those he saw as beneath him. He saw Hayes as beneath him, that was clear, and I felt myself bristle at the upturned nose he offered my brother. Hayes of course couldn't give a toss.

I then noticed the rather helpless look Lord Byron threw my brother's way.

"Fine." Hayes impatiently took Byron's arm. "We'll talk about "philanthropy"." He huffed before he dragged the minister out of earshot.

Hayes then bowed his head to murmur something quietly to the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster.
His expression was rife with brazen empathy as he spoke to the Lord in front of him with clear caution. Jeremy looked rather shocked and offended by whatever it is he spoke of, but it didn't seem very genuine. What did seem genuine was when Jeremy went to reach for Hayes' elbow as he turned away to join me once again, before quickly drawing his hand back as if ashamed.

"Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you getting softer in your old age?"

"Who says I didn't give him a good dressing down?" Hayes said as we made for the bar beneath a spacious marquee. I could tell he was growing irritated with me acting as an escort, but I couldn't relax until I was sure my parents weren't about to pop out of the bushes.

"You feel sorry for him."

"Quite a difficult thing to feel when he's siding with the people who are the reason why he felt forced into marrying a woman."

"Hayes. Griffith!"

Hayes whirled at the sound of an outraged feminine voice. He squinted, as a fairly familiar woman strode over towards us. A completely loose canon, firing his way.

"... I know her?"

Oh good Christ. "Yes, Hayes, you dated her for three years."

He glanced at me, terror momentarily flashing across his ever cool gaze. "Oh no. That's—"

"Rose Beckham, yes."

"Oh no." Hayes repeated, his hand nervously going to fix his already impeccable lilac tie, "Where's Freddie?"

"I don't think he's going to save you from her."

"What? No. He'll never let me live this down—"

"You." Rose had appeared in a whirlwind of dusty pink.

I briefly glanced at the girl, noting that she hadn't changed all that much from when her and Hayes were an item. She was still lovely, lithe, and expensive.  Rose's golden hair was tossed up into a fashionable undo, and rows of pearls adorned her swanlike neck. To be quite honest, there were at least another dozen girls walking about the race course today who looked exactly like her.

"Hello, Rose."

"Ten years I have waited for an apology from you." Rose tapped Hayes' chest with a folded fan, "Ten!" tap, "Years!

Hayes smoothed a hand down the lapel of his jacket, "I er— I— it's good to see you?"

"Is it really?"

"Mhm," he nodded, trying to angle himself behind my shoulder. "You look lovely?"

"You left London, without a goodbye," tap, "without an explanation," tap, "without so much as a bloody note!" Tap, tap, whack, "It was Annie who informed me you had moved to New York."

Hayes attempted to back up a step so that he wouldn't be hit again. "Yes, I suppose I can see why that would be rather upsetting—"

"—rather upsetting!? Upsetting was when I find out, you had shacked up with some new woman, a dancer, an American!"

Hayes glanced over at me, hoping that I may step in at any second to save him. But I may have been team Rose on this one. Griff moved to New York without telling anyone, not me, not our parents, and clearly not his girlfriend at the time. He had been living there for almost a month before he phoned home and informed us that he had taken a job at Rolling Stone. None of us had noticed his absence, and that realisation made me feel like the world's biggest tosser. Ever since that, and a metaphorical kick up the arse from Annie, I had been trying to fix things up with my little brother.

"There was no overlap?" Hayes frowned.

"You never broke up with me!"

"I mean, I'm sure you filled in the blanks—"  Hayes began before I gave him a little nudge in the ribs. He proceeded to smack a syrupy smile onto his face, "It wasn't you, it was me?"

"I see you haven't lost any of your insincerity."

"Oh no darling, I mean it, it really was all me." Hayes laughed, but realised that made him sound insincere and quickly clamped his lips shut. "I truly am sorry for my mishandling— or rather my non-handling of our breakup. But I am even more sorry that it has taken me this long to apologise."

A chuckle wanted to escape me when my brother nodded to himself as if to say 'yes, well done, Hayes'.

I clasped his shoulder, and gave it a playful little shake. "Rose, I can't tell you how many times Hayes has come to me— in his attempt to pluck up the courage he needed to apologise to you."

Hayes' brows lifted in surprise, but he quickly latched onto my words. Within minutes of his charm offensive, he made it so Rose no longer looked as though she may beat him with her fan. She even accepted a drink.

Both Hayes and I exchanged a brief glance when the flute of champagne hadn't sent her packing. She talked, and talked. Which, reminded me of the fact that Hayes had always went for women who never noticed when he contributed nothing more than a few well placed nods in conversation.

"Well, I'm so glad that's all firmly in the past now." Rose beamed up at Hayes, who simply chuckled awkwardly.

"I was surprised when your father said you wanted to talk to me, but now it's clear that—"

"—what's that?" Hayes' jaw almost snapped with how hard it tensed.

Rose turned her body slightly to toss a delicate wave in our father's direction, who was only a few paces away. "Alastair. He's still such a charmer, isn't he?"

Armageddon couldn't be far away. This was it. This is how it starts.

Father nodded his head briefly in greeting, and Hayes immediately looked away. "He's a stupid old fool, who has no idea what he's talking about. Sorry, but I had no intention of speaking with you, Rose. In fact, I completely forgot that you even—"

"—Hayes. Hayes." I laughed awkwardly, "Let's not take our silly family squabbles out on Ms Beckham."

Hayes' ire was turned on me and I felt myself shrink under his chilly gaze, "Family squabbles." He snapped, "Family squabbles?"

Before I could even attempt to tell Hayes to calm down, the source of his distress had appeared.

Father clapped a hand on my shoulder and I felt my spine go rigid. "Hello son," He nodded at me, before he glanced at Griff, "Hayes."

Rose had the good sense to scurry off after making a few polite excuses that none of us heard nor acknowledged. I suppose the daggers being exchanged between Hayes and Alastair were too sharp to politely ignore.

"For god's sake." I whispered at clear distinction he has made between my brother and I, "Just leave him be."

Father sighed as if my words were grating and proceeded to ignore me, "I thought when we spoke two years ago, I made myself quite clear, Hayes."

That was likely the last time Hayes and Dad spoke more than a few sentences to one another.

Two years ago, Freddie's ex-assistant had sold all sorts of photographs and stories to the Sun in exchange for a scandalous amount of money. This Prenter character had completely violated Freddie's privacy, and offered up the intimate details of the man's life to the highest bidder. Of course, Hayes had been caught up in the crossfire. Prenter had spoke of Freddie and Hayes' relationship, creating a vicious media storm that had only just about died down.

When the fact or fiction of the pair's relationship was splashed across every tabloid in Britain... father hit the roof.

Hayes was sparse with the details, but I knew father had been cruel and that his words had been enough to mutilate their relationship beyond repair. Father also took it upon himself to do damage control, because he simply couldn't be seen to have a son that was gay. His press team dragged Prenter, and all the skeletons in his closet, so roughly through the dirt that his word meant nothing by the end of it. Freddie's ex assistant ended up looking like a desperate man out for revenge, and not someone who was likely to be telling the truth about the man who fired him.

I knew that Freddie was furious about our father's involvement in the whole thing at the time.

"Two years ago?" Hayes scratched at his jaw, "Do you know how many interesting conversations I have had since then? You can't expect me to remember your white noise."

Father chuckled, "I almost missed that bark of yours."

Hayes didn't need to take any of father's crap, so I made a feeble attempt to steer him away from the oncoming car crash. "Hayes, I have left Annie alone with the kids for too long , we should get back—"

"Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was when my good friend, Michael Checkland, phoned me up to tell me all about your exploits?"

"Oh," Hayes pouted, "So you don't watch my show?"

I threw Hayes a glance, wondering why on Earth he was poking the dragon. I knew I should have been happy to see it, but I didn't want my little brother to be inevitably burned. It always takes him so long to drag himself out of those particular ashes.

"Nobody would have batted an eye about this whole debacle if you had just listened to me and kept your relations private—"

"—relationship." Hayes corrected him immediately, "I don't have relations, I'm in a relationship. Have been for years."

Griff had said the words slowly, as if our father was just painfully stupid and incapable of grasping the simplest of things. Which, I suppose he was. I had no idea where Hayes' backbone had come from, but if someone was selling Alastair-Griffith-proof spines, I needed to purchase a set.

Father seemed even more surprised than me that Hayes had actually stood up for himself, so his response was reduced to a simple scoff.

"There's no need for you to come up with a reply." Hayes smiled coldly, "I don't feel like arguing with you, it's simply beneath me."

"Beneath you?"

"Mhm. When I attempt to see things from your point of view, I feel that my intelligence significantly drops. It must be difficult to have such limited mental capacities which clearly prevent you from learning or growing."

My gaze quickly flicked over to my father, wondering if this would be a volley, or if he would attempt to efficiently put Hayes down before he grew too confident. Any son standing up to Alastair was basically a familial coup d'etat. It was something neither Oliver or I have even thought about attempting.

Father managed to wipe any hint of surprise or offence from his face, "Do you know how I feel when I attempt to see things from your point of view?"

Hayes shrugged a languid shoulder in response, and I gently placed a hand on his back, ready to steer him away at any second. I then took a quick nervous sip of my champagne, as if it may vicariously soothe Hayes' nerves.

"I feel disgusted. Two men engaging in relations is not natural—"

"Well, you shouldn't knock anything until you try it."

I spluttered champagne directly back into my glass, unable to keep the sudden laughter at bay. It was such a ridiculous and childish thing to say, but obviously effective.

I had never seen my father look so... frazzled. His mouth gaped open and shut like a fish trapped on the shore as he very clearly searched for his next words. Alastair Griffith always knew what to say, so this occasion was certainly more rare than a blue moon.

With the last word seemingly secured, Hayes whirled on his heel. The only hint that he was anxious was in the tight grip of his fingers on my arm.

"You accused me of being unintelligent, and incapable of learning?" Father didn't raise his voice, but the words still carried, "Well only a fool would continue living this lifestyle when it leads to nothing but illness and death."

There was the barb that struck true— the exact type of comment I knew he would make.

Hayes only allowed a fleeting streak of hurt to crack through his expression, before his face went blank again. I knew that he couldn't help but think of Julian. I had no idea what to say in that moment, especially when I was aware that Hayes wouldn't allow me to say anything even remotely comforting to him right now.

"Hayes..."

"Ah, there's Freddie and Annie." He murmured, and his tone was final. Don't push.

Freddie was dressed quite casually in a two-piece Oxford navy suit, with a canary yellow tie loosely knotted around the collar of his baby blue shirt. Hayes clearly had been too distracted to notice the hack job Freddie had made of looping that tie or else he would've fixed it.

Alright, it probably wasn't that bad. Annie tells me that Hayes and I have unreasonable standards for tie knots.

Hayes casually took Freddie's hand, and pecked a kiss to the back of it. Freddie, who was chatting to Annie, didn't even bat an eyelash at the greeting. Hayes briefly held Freddie's hand to his cheek, and his eyes momentarily flickered shut to sap some comfort from the gesture. That's when Freddie took notice, but Hayes had already dropped his hand so that he could greet Lottie.

"Griff!" Lottie had recently informed Annie and I that she was getting far too old for constant hugs, but continued to attach herself to Hayes at every opportunity. Not that I cared... not at all.

"Me and uncle Freddie made a bet!" Lottie beamed brightly.

"Yes, that's what every parent wants their child to do." I muttered, "Gamble."

Hayes flashed me a cheeky smile, before he returned his attention to Lottie. "But I didn't see any horses with silly names?"

"Lottie and I take this very seriously, Hayes, thank you very much." Freddie raised his chin haughtily.

"Who did you bet on?"

"Soft Machine."

Hayes snorted, "I should have seen that one coming."

"It's like you don't know me at all." Freddie pouted. Despite of his joking manner, I could see him trying to work out what was eating at my brother.

Lottie nodded along, "Hayes, nobody was betting on him. Me and Freddie had to."

"Well yes, that's because his odds were 200 to 1." Hayes frowned.

"Yes, so Lottie and I thought he could do with some love."

"Isn't that lovely?" he deadpanned, which provoked Freddie to playfully pinch his cheek.

Hayes then proceeded to gently ruffle Lottie's hair, "Now if you would all excuse me a moment..." He whispered something in Freddie's ear, who nodded and gave Hayes' waist a small reassuring squeeze. I instinctively readied myself to follow my brother, but he assured me that he needed no chaperones.

When I saw that Hayes had gone to speak with Sophia who was once married to Julian, and his poor kids, I settled. Somewhat.

"Freddie was just telling me about his opera album." Annie chirped, in a clear attempt to stop Freddie and I from gawking at Hayes. "Lottie and I are going to find Vic and the boys. We'll catch up with you before the race."

"I'll need a drink if I'm to prattle on about my album again." Freddie laughed.

"I could definitely use a drink."

"My stories aren't that bad, are they honey?"

I opened my mouth to quickly refute the question, but Freddie changed the subject quickly enough to give me whiplash. "What happened with Hayes?"

"Oh— I uh—"

"Alastair is here, isn't he?"

I nodded, "We had a small run in with him. But Hayes held his own. He'll be fine."

Freddie didn't seem all that convinced but he dropped the subject for now. As we joined the queue of another bar, he returned to the subject that Annie had originally suggested we chat about. Freddie spoke of his opera album, which he had just wrapped up recording.

I found myself quite intrigued by the process, considering he has been working with the Montserrat Caballe. Freddie began to animatedly tell me about how Hayes had picked up some conversational Spanish to make her feel more comfortable at a dinner party, before realising they shared Italian in common.

As Freddie worked himself up to the point of the story, a familiar set of voices gave him reason to pause.

"Is that Julian Wright's widow?"

Father sniffed, "Is she a true widow if it was a lavender marriage?"

"I wouldn't let Lord Wright hear you," Jeremy chuckled, "He's dreadfully embarrassed about it all."

"Poor sod." Father agreed insincerely. "Such a thing is a terrible stain on a family."

I attempted to tune out of the conversation and bring Freddie along with me. I had no idea that the man could look so furious, and I had no doubt in my mind he was thinking about walking on over to my father. Hayes would likely kill me if I allowed such a thing to transpire.

"Another drink Freddie? You know I haven't had vodka since I was in college— and yours just looked so wonderfully... strong."

"Yes, another drink would be nice..."

And we may have had that drink, if Freddie's ears didn't perk right up again.

"That's your son... Harry?"

I rolled my eyes so hard, they almost rattled in my skull.

"Hmph, yes, Hayes."

"I see him quite a bit in the papers."

"Yes, but I hope you know he's not in any way associated with us anymore."

"Of course Al," Jeremy laughed, "We all have those family members we'd prefer to ship off somewhere, why just look at Thacher's twins. And my wife."

"Mhm." Father chuckled, because that's the closest he could get to laughter. "Well my son and the former Mrs Wright look quite cozy. She already has kids, and knows what it's like to be in a sham of a marriage. Perhaps the boy could be convinced to drop the girl a proposal to keep all those baseless rumours surrounding him at bay."

"Oh look! We're top of the queue, I suggest getting a double, Georgie." Freddie exclaimed, and half pushed me into the bar.

"And that's stronger, yes?" I turned around to ask, but the Queen frontman had left me in the bloody dust.

"Freddie!" I whispered, "It's not a good idea— oh bloody hell!" I strode after Freddie as quickly as possible, muttering and grumbling about how nobody ever listens to me.

"Al!" Freddie chirped as he pulled up in front of father and Lord Byron, "How are you dear!"

It took father a moment to recognise who Freddie was, but distaste curled his lips once he did. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Lord Griffith." Freddie took his hand and gave it a furious shake, "Well, they'll just let anyone in here won't they!?"

"Clearly." Father replied dryly before he pulled his hand free of Freddie's, and ran it down the side of his jacket.

Freddie let out a loud cackle of a laugh, "Oh you old
c—nt!"

When father's eyes widened like saucers, I realised I had never truly seen the whites of his eyes. "I beg you pardon!?"

"We're all friends here, no need to beg for anything." Freddie purred before setting his sights on Jeremy, "You look familiar."

Jeremy was just as flustered by Freddie's behaviour and choice of words, so his mouth stumbled about a bit before he pulled himself together. "I am not sure I would like to offer you an introduction!"

"Oh George... don't tell me this is my competition."

I was caught up with the bizarreness of this whole situation, and found myself just going along with it. "Doesn't hold a candle to you, Freddie."

"Annie has you well-trained."

Father had managed to compose himself somewhat, but his next words were a jumble, "Competition?" He shook his head, "I don't— George, why are you— you can not continue to enable this man to—"

"—Jehovah is it?" Freddie cut in, interrupting a man who was not at all used to being cut off.

Lord Byron was staring at Freddie with unadulterated terror, because he could so easily drop the fact that Jeremy sought Hayes out at every opportunity. And the reason why.

"J-Jeremy."

"Ah that's it." Freddie dropped his voice to a conspiratorial, but loud, whisper, "Now tell me, what sort of bathhouse do they have underneath Westminster— or how is it you and Hayes—"

"— Jeremy there's no need for you to stand here and listen to this nonsense." Father growled, "He's clearly barmy."

Jeremy didn't need to be told twice, and bolted like a frightened horse out of the gate. 

Freddie seemed satisfied now that Byron was gone, "I may be have the odd screw loose, dear, but you're fully mad if—"

"—I assure you that I have heard every age-related quip in the book, I don't need to hear yours."

"Yet you don't take that as a sign to retire." I muttered, and glanced away once I felt his glare burn into the side of my head.

"I wasn't going to say anything about your age," Freddie's previous jocose manner had vanished completely. "Although, it was quite stupid of you to turn away the only son that would have taken care of you when you've been put out to pasture."

Father did look rather offended by the truth in his words. Oliver and I were always simply intimidated by father, Hayes was the only one who tried to love him or held out on the hope that he would be loved back. Yet he was the one who had always been kept at arm's length.

"You have no idea what— my family is none of your business!"

"Oh no, you don't get to pick and choose when Hayes is part of your family. You lost the privilege of him. He's my family now, and my business." Freddie poked a furious finger to father's chest, "No longer yours. So how about you just fuck off?"

Father was so insulted he almost repeated the words aloud. Instead he mouthed 'fuck off?' as if he truly couldn't believe the invitation couldn't ever be extended his way.

"I realise that you are much more comfortable when Hayes is miserable. You poor dear, it must be so difficult to see him happy, which is why you insist on knocking him down at every opportunity."

"I barely talk to—"

"— barely isn't good enough. If you see his name in a tabloid, don't pick up the phone. If you see him at events like this, don't give him a second glance. He doesn't want anything to do with you, and you claim to not want anything to do with him."

"I don't—"

"— brilliant! Then fuck off."

As much as I wanted to give Freddie a standing ovation, I found myself wincing. Father was surely going to drop the hammer at any second. Nobody spoke to him like that... especially not someone father viewed as completely beneath him.

However, father was just staring at Freddie, completely aghast. Unable to make use of his usual silver tongue. "I can't— who do you think— how dare you speak to me like that! George! How could you allow him to say such things to me?"

I stared down at my father's perfectly polished shoes, "I agree with everything Freddie said." The words came out much meeker than desired, but I was glad I got them out.

"So it wasn't good enough for you to ruin one son for me?" Father's tone was razor sharp, and I don't know how Freddie didn't so much as blink.

Instead he laughed, and it was a sound of pure disbelief, "Hayes is an entire person outside of who he chooses to be with. An entire, wonderful, person, and you chose never to see that. Don't try to pin anything on me, honey."

Father's wrinkled face had mottled with red rage, and I readied myself to extract Freddie from his firing rage.

"Now, I better go." Freddie smiled sweetly, "Not that this wasn't lovely, but I sincerely hope that this is the last time we ever have to speak."

Hayes' voice startled me when he suddenly materialised at my side, and considering he was able to easily slot into the conversation, he must have heard a considerable chunk of Freddie's words.

""Fathers should neither be seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life"."

"Oscar Wilde?"

"Mhm." Hayes smiled briefly, his attention was completely absorbed by Freddie.

"Sorry, I was just catching up with the in-laws." Freddie said breezily and placed a small peck on Hayes' cheek, who looked rather overwhelmed. I didn't have the adjectives necessary to describe how my father looked.

"That's alright, love." Hayes murmured, "I just— the race is going to start."

Father stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards my brother, "Hayes— can't you see what he's doing to—"

"—yes, the race is starting! Let's get a move on!" I placed a hand on both men's backs, and urged them to move along.

For once, they each listened to me, and we left father in the dust.

We actually walked away from father with the upper hand, thanks to Freddie and his pointed words. The whole interaction couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, but Freddie has managed to say all that needed to be said. Things I had dreamt about saying for decades. I was almost jealous.

Once I was sure father wasn't following us, I hung back a step or two as we headed for the race track, attempting to give the couple as much space as possible despite of us heading for the same destination.

"You didn't need to say all that." Hayes whispered scoldingly, "Do you know badly that could have gone?"

"What did you hear?"

"Enough for my ego to be massively inflated."

"Good." Freddie briefly swept a hand up and down along Hayes' lower back. Their whispers grew quieter, and I swept my gaze to the side.

We joined Annie and the kids moments later, near the front of the public bleachers. Charlie, my youngest, made an immediate beeline for Freddie, who had little choice but to entertain him. Edward nestled right up to Hayes, and began chattering on about furlongs and the condition of the turf. Trust a child to unwittingly interrupt a tender conversation.

"Are you alright?" Annie rested herself against my side.

"Yes, of course." I gave her waist a small squeeze, "Sorry, I didn't mean to leave you alone with the kids for so long."

"Oh don't worry, they're their uncles' problem now."

I laughed, "That's a lovely way to speak about them."

Annie smiled up at me, ready to reply but Edward turned around and shushed us because the race was about to begin. Lottie also whirled around to imitate the zipping of her lips. Of course Freddie and Hayes were exempt from this 'no speaking' rule, and they were allowed to continue their conversation in murmurs.

Glacial Storm took the early lead, with Moon Madness, Doyoun, and Freddie's 'Soft Machine' all trailing a length or two behind. Edward and Hayes' horse 'Mtoto' was dead last. Six furlongs passed by before the favourite Unfuwain passed Moon Madness on a turn. With half a mile to go, Unfuwain kept a firm grasp on the lead, but towards the back Mtoto was picking up his pace.

Edward was nervously chewing at his nails, and Hayes had both hands thrust into his hair. I laughed when Freddie and Lottie exchanged a brief look as if to say 'they're being ridiculous'.

At the final furlong, Mtoto shot past Unfuwain like an avenging comet. Edward went to celebrate, but Hayes clapped a hand over his mouth to stop him jinxing it. Hayes only released Edward when Mtoto crossed the finishing line. He had started out last, but beaten Unfuwain by two lengths.

"We won!" Edward exclaimed. "Hayes, Dad, we won!"

"And Soft Machine didn't come last!" Lottie chirped.

Freddie nodded with a small smile, "No, he didn't." He turned to Hayes, "Now how much of a small fortune have you won me?"

"Enough for that chaise longue you keep prattling on about?"

Annie chuckled, "Don't you have enough furniture?"

"We'll it's for the apartment—" Freddie began but immediately clamped his lips shut with a small glance from Hayes.

"Apartment? Are you downsizing?" I asked Hayes, who had guiltily averted his gaze.

"No," he replied hesitantly, "We're... well, Freddie's bought property in Montreux. I'm going to go back with him next time. Live there."

I was strangely caught off guard by the news. I knew Freddie rented property out in Montreux, and that he had been over and back between there and London for the past year. I just never thought him living there would be a permanent thing.

"When is this happening?" I asked apprehensively.

"Soon." Hayes twisted at the silver band which had been welded to his right ring finger for the past few years. "We'll still pop over and back to London, but for the foreseeable future, Montreux will be base."

"Well," I exhaled slowly, "If Montruex is where Freddie is going to be, that's where you should be."

"Thank you for...understanding."

It was clear that Hayes was thanking me for understanding far more than his desire to live with Freddie in Switzerland. I knew if I opened my mouth to reply, a whole stream of 'I'll miss you' sentiment would come pouring out. Which is why I kept my lips sealed. Instead, I settled for giving him a stilted clap on the back. Which he gingerly returned.

"Not to change the subject too quickly..." I began but Hayes had read my mind.

"Yes, this is a Valentino shirt, and yes it's crinkled, but I didn't have time to put her through the dry cleaners."

"And you simply can't use an iron at home on such material. The temperature doesn't go low enough." I nodded with understanding. "You don't have a iron-steamer at home?"

"I told Freddie that I might need one in case of emergencies, but he disagreed. And look at my shirt now— a calamity."

I thought Hayes and I were doing quite well on the emotional front despite being Griffith men, but the exasperated glances Annie and Freddie exchanged as we spoke told us we still had some growing to do.

I suppose I could have told Hayes that I had grown rather used to him living down the road to me, and wasn't celebrating the fact he was moving elsewhere for a while. But after seeing how valiantly Freddie had stood up for Hayes earlier, it was difficult to argue that he would be better off anywhere else but by Freddie's side. Perhaps I'll be able to tell him all of this closer to the time.

"I dare say that a steamer would make a rather good housewarming  present."

Hayes flashed me one of his rare untamed smiles, "I dare say it would."

*****

A/N—

Thanks again @bubsy46 for the idea! And if anyone else wants to see any specific one shots, feel free to ask!

I might take things back to 1985, and write about Freddie's Munich party next. But I'm happy to write anything else that anyone may want.

Hope you enjoyed, and took plenty of water breaks during that massive trek of a chapter ahah. 💜