F.M

I lay staring at the ceiling for an immeasurable amount of time, unable to move.

I was ninety-nine percent certain that any sudden movement would have me empty the contents of my stomach all over the luxurious duvet I had tangled myself in. The sheets even smelt divine. I would expect nothing less from Hayes Griffith, London's poshest export. As I considered the very real possibility that Hayes bathed in liquid gold and dried himself off with money, I heard a muffled voice through the wall, hissing.

"What do you mean Freddie Mercury is in our spare room!?" An absolutely furious female voice raged.

Hayes response was unintelligible, but I assumed he was on thin ice from how low his own voice was. I didn't want to get him in anymore trouble considering what he had done for me last night. I needed to dip out of here and quickly, so I braved the elements. I must have only gotten halfway through undressing before passing out last night, because next thing I knew I had fallen over with my trousers around my knees. Of course I fell with a large thud.

"Is that him!?"

"No, I smuggled in Elton John when you weren't looking." I heard him remark dryly. "A right old English piss-up- oi!" He grunted, "I was joking."

After that they moved away to a different room, or they must have because I could no longer hear them... and I did try. The room spun about me as I attempted to pull myself together. I didn't exactly want to face Hayes this morning, considering how much I embarrassed myself last night. All I could do was hope that I had not said anything too awful to Hayes when drunk. Luckily, I think I was too busy silently fawning over him to have said anything too damning.

I don't really remember how I got into the apartment, or into the bed. Hopefully I was a little graceful when I tumbled in. There was minimal furniture in the large room, aside from the bed that is. I couldn't imagine Hayes and clutter so that made sense. I squinted to find a glass of water placed on a frayed white vanity table. How matronly of Hayes.

As I forced down a few gulps of water, my eyes flicked to the mirror. My white T-shirt was thoroughly stained, rough stubble covered my jaw, and my hair... I wouldn't be shocked if someone told me I had been dragged through a bush. I need to find a bathroom before I even attempt to speak with Hayes.

The door creaked loudly as I slipped out into the hallway. I turned right, and blindly went to search for a bathroom. Only five seconds later, I was distracted by an open door leading into a large study. As I scolded myself not to go in, my feet had already carried me there.

There were few items of decor that suggested the apartment was a home and not a showroom. Although a few picture frames littered the traditional walnut desk that dominated the small room. Nosy beggar I was, I cast my eyes over the pictures.

In one photo, Angie and Hayes looked like siblings forced into the guise that they could stand each other for the split second it would take the camera to go off. It was not Angela's fault the picture gave off such a vibe, she was wrapped around Hayes like a vine. Hayes on the other hand, barely smiled and barely touched his current fiancé.

"What are you doing in here?"

Angela Reynolds' gratingly flat voice caught my ear. I whirled around, "Sorry dear, I got lost."

Her eyes surveyed me slowly from head to toe, "Clearly."

"I apologise if I disrupted your night with Hayes." I attempted to edge towards the door.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before softening out once again,  "He often switches to the spare room when he can't sleep, so you merely returned him to me. No need to apologise."

I tucked the fact that he didn't sleep with Angie into my evidence pile for later inspection. As if reading my mind, she grew a little defensive, "He wakes up much earlier than me, he doesn't like to disrupt me in the mornings."

"It's really none of my business." I offered her my most disarming smile. "Again, sorry for imposing like this."

I thought for a moment that Angie may have been all bark and no bite before. That I may have caught her on a very bad day. She then smiled sweetly, and reached for my arm, patting gently.

"You aren't the first man who has expected more from Hayes than he's willing to offer, you're not the first to come sniffing because of the rumours."

After spending so much time with offensively British people lately, a dose of American directness took me back for a moment. "I don't understand-"

"Oh you do, but Hayes and I are happy. I don't want anyone confusing him, that better be alright with you. I don't want us to have a problem Freddie Mercury."

The tone she used to speak to me was very much akin to the fans who have both claimed to be having my child and murder me in the same breath, so a smart ass reply was not on the cards. Clearly Angela felt threatened by men around Hayes, but still mentioned that he wouldn't ever return any interest. That doesn't help my confusion surrounding him at all.

Not that I'm interested or want him to show any interest. That would be absurd!

"You'll have no problems from me dear," Doesn't she realise I'm Freddie Mercury? I don't need to chase after her little fiancé. "I better get going."

"Good." Angie's smile brightened, "Hayes doesn't need any more whispering about him. Now I'm off to work, Hayes will see you out."

I nodded as if to say 'yes or course!' And then I skipped out on the woman who thought she was in a soap opera. I ignored how terrible I looked as I escaped to find Hayes, who thankfully was in the easily accessible kitchen. I wasn't risking going to the bathroom and running into Angie for round two.

Hayes was impeccable once again, not a hair out of place, as he sat sipping a cup of coffee. He looked so pristine, I was beginning to think his dishevelled state last night was a figment of my imagination. A very enjoyable figment of my imagination.

"Morning." I chirped.

After spending most of my morning considering what I might say to Hayes, I was embarrassed that 'morning' was the best I could come up with.

"Hmph." Hayes waved a large hand in response as he continued sipping his drink.

The man is not a day, or night person, I don't know why I would have expected him to be in any better a mood in the mornings.

"I'm really sorry about last night."

Hayes shrugged, "It's fine. I love driving drunk celebrities around at four in the morning."

"A regular occurrence?"

"Just once with Stevie Nicks and Don Henley."

I scoffed in response, "I'm sure."

Hayes merely smirked and ran a hand down his navy tie. He looked wrecked. The poor man looked as though he was only just hanging on by the rings under his eyes. Guilt tugged at me.

"Can't you take the morning off, pull a sickie?" I ignored Emma's kind threat to back off.

"I'm not five," he said affronted, "And why would I do that anyway?"

"You're unbelievably uptight, my god." I plopped myself down in a chair across from him, "You just look tired."

"I am tired, no thanks to you." He grumbled in response, and then surprisingly added a personal tidbit of information, "I haven't been sleeping well for the past couple of years. It just hits me every now and then."

"Something keeping you up at night?" Someone? Because it's not Angie from what I can gather.

"This plonker keeps phoning me in the middle of the night," Hayes deadpanned, "Could have something to do with it."

I smiled sheepishly in response.

Hayes chuckled, "Aside from you disrupting my sleep schedule with calls, and trips to London, I just find it difficult to stay asleep."

I nodded, "I find it difficult to sleep alone." I clamped my lips shut, wondering why the fuck I would ever say such a thing to a journalist.

Hayes merely nodded, "Alone, with Angie, I never rest easy."

Angela.

"How is your fiancé?" I asked as if she were his imaginary friend, even though I saw her just moments ago. And I'm fairly sure she threatened me.

Hayes' eyes shuttered closed for a moment as he drew in a tight breath, "Good. Good." His eyes opened once again as his fingers drummed restlessly against the table, "What are you doing today?"

"I have another show tonight," I replied, almost groaning at the thought, "But between now and then? Nothing."

"Where's that friend of yours... Peter?"

Phoebe is going to combust if I tell him Hayes just asked about him. I let out a little laugh, "He's probably sent out a search party for me."

"Well I need to pop off to work," Hayes glanced at his watch, "Do you need a lift?"

"Oh don't leave me alone!" I complained, "Be fun." I looked at Hayes expectantly.

Hayes of course looked as though he had never heard such a filthy word in his entire life. "Fun? Why must I be fun?"

"You are extremely difficult."

"At least I'm not easy." He muttered.

"Did you just call me a slag?"

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "If the shoe fits Freddie-"

"How very dare you."

"You were the one wandering street corners last night."  He tutted, "You looked like a right tart actually."

"You're the one who picked me up."

Hayes laughed at that, tucking a newspaper under his arm, "I suppose you're right. Now I really do need to get going, so what's your plan?"

"Tag along with you?" I cannot stomach anyone I know today.

"You want to tag along?" Hayes arched a brow, "I doubt I can keep you entertained."

"I said I would do an interview with you," I stood up to follow him, "Why not do it today?" My god, I have simply lost it haven't I?

Hayes sighed deeply, "You're very persistent aren't you?"

"I am giving you a bloody rare opportunity here! I never offer to do interviews."

"I'm truly honoured Freddie."

"You're truly a twat." I grumbled, standing up to follow him.

Hayes stopped at that, I bumped into his deceptively sturdy frame. "Oh don't tell me that offended-"

"If you're visiting the Rolling Stone, you'll need to get changed." Hayes eyes slowly drew up and down, "This looks like a walk of shame."

My cheeks tinged red, "And how do you know what that is?"

"Oh I have had a few in my youth." Hayes instructed me to follow after him.

I really can't with this man. "In your youth? You're still in your youth. Why don't you act like it dear?"

Hayes swung a door open, and returned moments later with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The tags were still on both. "I haven't worn any of these, they were just lying in the back of my closet."

Like you apparently.

"The bathroom is last room on the left." Hayes shoved the clothes into my arms, "I'll bring the car out front. You decide whether you really want to do an interview or not." He sniffed delicately, "Borrow some cologne if you need."

And with that, he left me to it.

Hayes is dry, temperamental, and arrogant. So I really don't know why I was in any hurry to get dressed, or do an interview with him. Interviews are the most awful part of being a musician, why am I offering myself up? I must be still drunk.

I assumed that Hayes would implode if he deviated from his schedule, so I didn't linger too long. I slipped into his car a few minutes later, Hayes gave me an assessing glance and ended it with a look that said 'you'll do.' His clothes were quite loose on me, but comfortable all the same.

"How are you feeling?" He surprised me by asking.

"I no longer need to get sick, so as good as I can be." I replied with a sigh, "I really am sorry you had to put up with me in that state."

"You were actually fairly quiet," Hayes shrugged, "You're staring was a bit much though, you were in a constant daze. I asked you a few times what was wrong."

Oh god, I groaned inwardly. I was struggling for a way to change the subject, or at least find a different answer to Hayes' line of enquiry rather than 'you are the most unfairly attractive person I have ever seen, where else are my eyes meant to go?'.

"Sorry, I need to change this." Hayes grumbled and flicked the station.

Laura Branigan's 'Gloria' was playing softly through the in car radio. "Seriously? How can you not like this song?"

"I do like it, I don't want it to be stuck in my head all day." Hayes explained, shocking me completely.

"Really?"

"But if I were to pick any faults... I know for a fact it'll get a Grammy nod, even though the song was stolen and translated from an Italian hit released two years ago. If you're going to steal a song- at least wait a while. In any case, Umberto Tozzi sampled Elton John's 'Saturday Night's Alright', so Laura Branigan simply copied a song that was already copied. Like the rest of this 1982, the song lacks originality."

That's more like him.

"I like her voice though." Hayes added as if he hadn't just torn into the song.

I shook my head, amused, "Why are you so critical of music?"

A silent moment passed.

"Have you ever heard of musical synesthesia?" Hayes asked in a hushed tone, as if revealing a dark secret.

I shook my head slowly.

"I was in an accident as a boy..." he continued, eyes flickering back to the road, "got a knock to the head. Woke up, and suddenly my senses were heightened, and all over the place."

I leant forward with deep fascination. "In what way?"

"Sounds suddenly had tastes, smells... colours. Completely changed the way I perceived music, as you can probably imagine."

"No fucking way."

"Mhm, no offence, Hot Space," Hayes sighed as if troubled, "well, it left the aftertaste of battery acid."

"Well you can't help that!" I exclaimed, "I never realised that you..." I squinted my eyes at him, "You're taking the piss aren't you?"

Hayes nodded, his lips cracked into a smile. "Took you long enough."

"Fucking bastard."

At that Hayes surprised me with a short burst of raspy laughter, his hand going to his forehead as if to create a shade to hide his expression. God forbid if Hayes Griffith laughed.

"Sorry, sorry." He caught his breath. I couldn't tell if he was apologising for showing an emotion, or for joking around. "I do actually enjoy music, but I have to dissect songs for a living. Any song can sound good at first, but I suppose critics delve a little deeper."

"Are there any musicians that pass your inspection?"

"You're generalising far too much." Hayes shook his head, "I have found many Queen albums satisfactory."

"You really known how to flatter a lady-"

"I wasn't finished." He chuckled, "Just because I enjoy certain Queen songs doesn't mean I have to love the whole discography. Conversely, if I don't enjoy certain Queen songs, it doesn't mean I hate the entire discography."

"I take each song for what it is, regardless of the artist, or their previous work." He explained, "And then I jazz things up a little to make the review more entertaining."

"So... you don't like any bands or musicians in a general sense?"

"I do."

"Like who?"

"No one exciting."

"Name one."

"The Kinks are very good-"

"The knockoff Beatles?"

Hayes looked mildly offended, "Oh please, most bands in the sixties sounded similar, the Kinks were distinct. Ray Davies is amazing."

"Of course the Kinks are good, I just wanted to see how much of a fan you could turn into. Did you ever meet any of them?"

"Ray," Hayes replied immediately, "I was seventeen, I already had a job at New Music Express, I did the pieces nobody else wanted to but it was a foot in the door. I thought I would faint when one of the journalists brought me to tag along for an interview with Ray Davies."

"What was he like?"

"Quiet, and a real gentleman. Quick to smile." He chuckled as he reminisced, "Much taller in person."

"And me?" I joked.

"Much smaller in person," he frowned, "But I don't see-"

"For fuck sake I didn't mean my height. I meant you must have preconceived ideas of celebrities before you meet them. What did you think of me?"

"You pushed me through a table, do you really want to know what I thought of you?" Hayes pulled the car over, parking it in a designated employee for the Stones. "If you want to play tourist instead of interviewee, Carnegie Hall, and Times Square are only a stone's throw away-"

"I have been in New York many, many times. I'll pass." I waved my hand, "I shouldn't have to beg you to do an interview!"

"It's just not in my schedule!" Hayes grumbled as he slipped out of the car, "I prefer to have things planned."

"It's just an interview."

"I need to do some research before an interview." Hayes sighed as a set of large doors were opened for us in an unnecessarily tall sky rise building. There wasn't much to indicate that we were entering the space of one of the world's most popular magazines.

"Thought it was just a conversation?"

Hayes stepped into the lift, he squared his shoulders and straightened up, "Yes, but we need to know about the musician prior."

"I think we know each other just enough for it to work." I laughed, and the lift binged open.

My eyes widened at the long hallway, skilfully decorated with the cover of various Rolling Stone issues.

"Cool right?" I almost leapt out of my skin when Hayes gently touched my elbow to prompt me forward, "Ever see the first issue?"

He removed his hand and lead me toward the end of the hall, where the covers steadily reverted back in time. He gestured toward a place on the wall the cover had been kept away from the others.

'Rolling Stone, vol.1, issue 1, November 9, 1967.' A black and white snapshot of John Lennon from 'How I Won the War' was splashed across the cover. It was still strange to think him gone.

"That is pretty cool." I paused, "67' doesn't seem all that long ago."

"You think?" Hayes rose his brows as he lead me into what seemed to be the reception area, "I suppose the 70s were a blur for you."

"Sex, drugs, rock and roll." I agreed with a grin that caused him to roll his eyes.

Nobody offered me a second glance as I walked the corridors with Hayes. The US was one of the only places Queen could go in the past few years without getting mobbed, so I didn't expect to get much attention from New York journalists who were all well used to celebrities by now. Not that I minded really.

No, instead most people looked at Hayes, and scuttled away like rats fleeing a sinking ship. At least I know I'm not the only one who is privy to Hayes' temperamental side.

"Hayes!" A shrill voice rang across about twenty desks.

Hayes winced, "Pretend I didn't hear her, just follow me."

"Hayes!"

I was trying not to laugh as Hayes led me down another narrow hallway, "Who's that?"

"Someone who cannot get a hint."

Can't get a hint? I was about to chuckle once again, and probe him for more information when his face dropped at the sound of a boisterous laugh.

"Is everything okay?"

Another deep laugh boomed, but closer this time as if he was approaching. Hayes eyes flicked about as if searching for an escape route. His boss maybe?

"Hayes, are you-"

I was cut off as Hayes shouldered open a door a half step away, and yanked me in after him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" I exclaimed.

It took a moment for the fact I was in an extremely confined space with Hayes to settle in. One of his broad hands was pushed into my chest like a fiery brand, and the other was running restlessly through his hair.

"An explanation would be-"

Hayes brought a slender finger to his own lips and paired it with a glare that roughly translated to "Please, shut the fuck up."

I did as told because I certainly didn't trust my words now that my thundering pulse drowned out any sensible thoughts. Footsteps sounded outside as well as muffled conversation and laughter. Hayes was too busy freaking out over something, for him to notice my thorough examination of his face.

A few silent moments passed. My breaths began to trip over one another, once Hayes' gaze connected with mine for a mere second. A sheepish smile skewed his lips, his expression thoroughly apologetic. For some reason, that bashful grin made something twinge in my chest. I opened my mouth to say something, not really knowing what, but thankfully I was saved. A second later I half fell back through the open space behind me when Hayes opened the door once again.

"Sorry," Hayes quickly apologised, "I just- I couldn't deal with a certain someone today."

"Yeah I just forgot something in my office." A Northern Irish lilt echoed down the hall. The same man who had been laughing just moments ago.

Hayes looked as though he may dive back into the maintenance room, without me this time, but the man had already spotted us. His steps picked up the pace.

"Hayes! Good morning." There must be something in the water in Rolling Stone, because he was also a looker. Not as good as Phoebe's Hayes though.

"Hi-hey- morning." Hayes mumbled, "This is Freddie Mercury, he's doing an interview, we need to get going."

The man smiled brightly, "Freddie, I'm Alex Moore, fashion critique here at Rolling Stone."

"Alex? The huge Queen fan, Hayes mentioned you before."

Alex glanced at Hayes, "Talking about me were you?"

Hayes went white, and let out an awkward laugh, "Mhm." He clasped onto my arm, "This was just a delight, but Freddie and I really need to go."

"Nice meeting you." Alex offered another friendly smile, before his gaze lingered on Hayes. He frowned sadly before going disappearing into what must have been his office.

"Why were you hiding from him?" I asked as Hayes led me another few doors down. "He seemed nice. Actually that's probably why you're scared of him."

Hayes merely grunted in response as he opened the door to his own office. Of course the office was clinically clean and sparse. He sank down in a wine coloured leather seat, and instructed me to take the one across from him. He gave absolutely no indication that he was about to answer my questions about his colleague.

"Alright, it's almost ten." He hummed as if irritated he was late, and slid his glasses over his eyes, "Is there anything you'd like? Coffee, tea, food? We can get you anything."

"I think water is my safest option." I chuckled, "For now that is."

Hayes nodded, a stray dark hair or two fell over his forehead. "Very good, anything else you want? Anything to make you more comfortable?"

"I enjoy this side of you Hayes." I smirked, "Very accommodating."

Hayes pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses lifting with the movement, "I have to be a professional, don't make it difficult."

"I would never."

"I'll get you your drink and then we can begin." Hayes reached over to lift a phone of the receiver, "You're sure their isn't anything else you want your highness?"

"I'm quite comfortable here thank you."

"Alright, then let's kick things off with the simple questions shall we?"

"Like what?"

"Like what the bloody hell were you thinking with 'Body Language'?"

___

A/N-

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️