1977

Rain. Monica hated it. London was less exciting when it was bucketing down on the streets that were as wet and humid as a rainforest, leaving large puddles on the pavement with it. And every time the torrents violently tapped against the glass of the window it made the outside world seem more and more uninviting.

And wind was howling down the chimneys and through the cracks of the windows. All of Freddie's precious cats were huddled up indoors in the warmth and shielded from such unpleasant conditions.

The mere idea of visiting another museum or gallery to pass time was out of the question.

Paula left for Belfast yesterday, and although she'd rung Monica as promised when she landed, it was seemingly as though she'd taken the weather with her.

They lay atop the covers of Freddie's unmade bed that stormy morning, nestled close, legs entwined as their heads rested on the pillow across from one another, nose to nose, skin on skin.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear tenderly.

In the first few days of Monica moving into Stafford Terrace, they'd done nothing but stayed indoors and locked in each other's arms, their bodies spent, even when the sun was shining outside. The only form of social interaction they'd both had was the day before when Paula dropped by to say farewell.

It was bliss, and already Freddie and Monica were inseparable, but such laziness caused her great skepticism; if she was going to live here from now on, she needed a purpose and to find something to do with herself.

"I want to start looking for a job," her fingers drew light circles on his unshaven cheek. "And maybe open a bank account, and transfer my savings"

"Work for me?" A playful grin played on his lips.

She chuckled slightly, "I want to keep out of your hair... what use would I be to you anyway?"

"Hmmmm... well, you'd make a perfect sort of maid with a lovely white headpiece and your frilly apron... and a little trolley driver" he teased, nuzzling her gently.

She sniggered as she rubbed her inner thigh against his hipbone, "What would I do?"

"You could serve me scones and tea at home and the studio," he ran a hand up and down her bare thigh resting on his hipbone, "...then, you and I both know how the day would end"

"Well, it sounds like the best job I could take at the moment," she drew her arms back to herself a little. "It sounds like you'd make a lot of profit from it though"

"In what way?" He murmured.

"Tea and scones" she replied.

His soft lips curled at the corners, "What else?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, "You know the answer, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction" she then sat up.

"What are you doing?" He rolled over to watch her.

"I'm going to open the curtains. The daylight will be a bit more energising, at least."

He shuffled closer to her as she sat with her back to him and stretched, taking her by surprise as he moved her cascading brunette waves aside and started kissing the goose-bumped skin on her back.

She gasped, "Freddie?!"

He let out a chuckle as he let her hand slip out of his, watching her bend down to graze a cat's head before approaching the window.

"Don't stand too close to the glass, dearie," he purred from his spot under the covers. "Those tits are good enough to make people drive off the road and into a lamppost."

She glared at him playfully before slightly opening the curtains, and he giggled from his spot as a crack of soft daylight slipped across the room.

"They're not exactly Jayne Mansfield, are they?" She hooked it back.

"Turn around and let me look at them" his arms were crossed behind his head.

She obediently turned to face him, lowering her arms from her rack, "Better?" She called across the room.

He smirked, "They're a perfect size on you. Now come back here"

"Is that an order?" She put her hands on her hips, making her way over, "I haven't said yes to your offer yet"

"Come back here, or there'll be consequences" the gleam in his eye was mischievous.

She giggled as she clambered onto the mattress, "like what?"

He sat up and grabbed her waist, digging his teeth into the side of her thigh gently.

"AAAGH!" She scrambled back, and he laid back laughing.

She was startled more when the bedside phone started to ring.

Monica was on Freddie's side of the bed at this point, so she immediately and instinctively picked it up like she would back home, "Hello?"

"Freddie? Why aren't you at the studio for the fourth day in a row?!" An angry Scotsman's voice sounded, and Freddie immediately tried to make a grab for the receiver.

She was taken aback by the man on the phone's attitude as she tried to dodge Freddie's distracting hands, "I'm sorry?"

"Jim [Beach] keeps ringing me up on behalf of the-wait, hold on...." she heard his voice turn from hard to confused. "You're not Freddie"

"No... he's right here though," she pushed an impatient Freddie back down onto his pillow. "Shall I put him on?"

"Well, Yes please miss, if it's no trouble," he said, and then she heard him shout in the background, "HE'S GOT A GIRL THIS TIME, LADS! I FUCKING TOLD YOU IT WOULDN'T BE LONG!"

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she felt Freddie snatch the receiver out of her hand, giving her an irritated glare.

She rolled away from him, "Well, that hurt"

It was looking like his career would creep up on him after all. Four days in bed seemed too good to be true.

"Freddie speaking... John [Reid]! Well, I'm sorry, she answered it for me," Freddie sat up and turned away from her in concentration, "...I was only taking things easy... no, I'm not telling you how I spent the last three days, why would any of that be your fucking business?... No, she's not distracting me, she's just a girl!"

"Just a girl! Gee thanks!" Monica thought, listening as a lump formed in her throat.

"...Oh, but we all knew Debbie Harry was just going to be another one of Roger's flings! This isn't like that!" He said nonchalantly.

"First Elton, then Rod, now Debbie Harry... who doesn't this man know?" She daren't day it out loud.

"Well, John, I like this girl," his voice suddenly turned soft, and he reached over to affectionately rub Monica's back. "I was helping her move in..."

His touch lingered on her goose-bumped skin, and she could feel her heart melt.

"I met her the other night..." Freddie trailed off as Tom jumped up onto the bed and started head butting his hand gently.

Monica felt the lining of her stomach turn pink, knowing that the angry Scottish business man wasn't going to take that too well.

He suddenly snapped back, "Sorry John, what was that you asked? ...Oh, she's 18... no, I don't have a schoolgirl fetish like... Jimmy Page!"

"Maybe this is more indecent then I thought... he's 30 after all! " she hesitated, but it didn't make her shudder the was it was supposed to.

"I just-Look, I'll tell about it later..." he scoffed, "yes, yes, I'll turn up this time... yeah of course, bye."

Monica widened her eyes and blurted out, "Roger dated Blondie?!"

Freddie put the receiver back on the cradle, "Briefly. They were both absolute terrors"

"Ah" She noised, slightly curling up in a foetal position.

She kept her hands to herself, listening as he cussed under his breath.

His large hand on her waist startled her, and then she felt him mould himself against her from behind.

"I'm sorry, I really have to go back to the studio today. They boys have been getting on our band manager's nerves," his arms slipped around her. "They sent a bloody car for me and everything!"

"Was that him on the phone?" She stared out the window.

"No. That was our studio manager" he kissed the back oh her neck.

"...I'm sorry I intervened by answering the call, I was only trying to help" she murmured.

Feeling bad, Freddie tried to lighten the mood, "I know you were... but, I suppose the truth of my whereabouts as of late had to come out at some point"

She turned her head a little, "Am I an inconvenience?"

"No... baby... I'm the one holding the band back" he admitted. "Most of them usually like my voice on their tracks when they can, and often they do, unless they're John. For John, it's a necessity to have me singing in his songs."

"Why?" She quipped.

"Because John claims he can't sing, and that to him my voice is the heart of Queen," he muttered, smoothing her hair back. "I suppose he's right in a way, when people think of our band and our image they think of me... But also, he just doesn't want to sing."

"Coming from a member of the public, it's true. We do perceive you as Queen... I'd hate to hold you back though" she whispered.

"It's not you, it's me," he sighed sadly. "Once I meet someone, I get dependent"

"What do you mean?" She lifted her head again.

"...I don't like being lonely" he admitted.

She could feel the vulnerability by the way he had his arms locked around her. She couldn't think of anything else helpful to say.

"You know, I don't have a lot of friends aside from Paula... I don't know anybody here other than you," she gave his hand a loving squeeze. "We can be lonely together"

He laced his fingers with hers, "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Well, what do you think the answer is?" She giggled.

"Meet me at the Odeon, say around 7:30, and we will watch something and go out for dinner afterwards" he brought her knuckle to his lips.

"Where is it?" She asked.

"On the high street, just a ten minute walk away" he explained.

"...Do you know what's on?"

"We'll decide when we get there, dearie" he kissed her hand.

She giggled, "But what if there's nothing on?"

"Even better," he grinned. "We can have a screen all to ourselves"

Monica rolled over to face him, "Sounds like a plan"

"Now, if only there was something that could make me get out of this warm bed with this lovely girl in it..." he buried his face into her neck, his hands snaking to her bottom.

She sat up and straddled him, rubbing his cheek, "You want something to make you get out of bed?"

Freddie simply smirked back up at her as he caressed her thighs by his hips.

She found that glossy black hair, that kissable pout and those dark sensual eyes below her to be irresistible.

But he wanted an excuse to get out of bed as well after all.

She pried his hands off of her curves and placed them above his head in a suggestive manner as she leaned down, only to miss and crawl off of the mattress before letting go of him, leaving him alone with a full erection.

"You tease... I'll get you back for this!" He watched as she picked a garment up off of the bedroom floor to cover herself up with, pulling her brown hair back from her face.

She called back as she exited to room, "You said you wanted motivation to get out of bed!"

Grumbling lightly, he hauled himself up and grabbed his underpants strewn on the floor by his feet.

"I'll deal with you downstairs, bad boy!" He murmured as he stepped into them, just about managing to pull them over his tender hard-on.

He awkwardly stumbled out of his bedroom and after wherever Monica's trail lead him to...