“I suppose I was on my fourth lager when it happened. John went to the lavatory and this guy came up to me. I was thirty-four and he was slightly older. He was dressed casually in jeans and a white vest and, like me, had a moustache. He was slight and not the sort of man I found attractive. I preferred men bigger and butcher.
‘Let me buy you a drink,’ he said.
I had an almost full can and I replied: ‘No, thank you.’ Then he asked me what I was doing that night.
‘Fuck off,’ I said. ‘You’d better ask my boyfriend about that.’ The stranger could see he was getting nowhere with me and let the matter drop, going back to join his friends in the corner.
‘Somebody’s just tried to chat me up,’ I told John when he returned. ‘Who was he?’ he asked. ‘Which one?’
‘Over there,’ I said, pointing him out.
‘That’s Freddie Mercury!’ he said, although it meant nothing to me – not a light. If he’d been the managing director of the Savoy Hotel where I worked it might have been a different matter. But I never kept up with popular music. Although I had it on the radio all the time, I couldn’t tell one group from another, or one singer from another. I had never heard of Queen.
John wasn’t annoyed that Freddie had tried it on – on the contrary, he was flattered that a famous singer fancied his partner.”
“She became the little princess of the house. Of all the cats at Garden Lodge, Delilah was Freddie’s favourite and the one he’d pick up and stroke the most often.”
“When Freddie went to bed, it was Delilah he brought in with us. She’d sleep at the foot of the bed, before slipping out for a night-time prowl around Garden Lodge.”
“Delilah was a spoilt cat and depended on Freddie for everything, even protection from the other cats. They would gang up on her and she would run into our bedroom.”
“I picked Delilah up and placed her next to Freddie. Dave then took Freddie’s hand and started stroking Delilah’s coat with it. ‘It’s Delilah,’ he told Freddie. He seemed to recognise what he was being told.”
Oscar & Tiffany
“We strolled back the way we had come and dived into a pet shop where we fell in love with the kittens. Freddie bought tins and tins of cat food, in flavours you couldn’t buy in London, as well as little toys for his beloved Tiffany and Oscar.”
“Tiffany was cremated and her ashes buried in a little casket, just as Freddie wanted, outside, and exactly in the middle of, the enormous dining room window. It was very touching.”
“Oscar was a cat who preferred his own company, and the arrival of the latest kitten proved to be the final straw. Increasingly he would roam off to visit other homes in the area and adopted one neighbour especially. He even started sleeping out at night, but Freddie didn’t mind.”
Goliath
“Then, like a mother, Freddie scolded the cat, shouting and screaming at tiny Goliath for leaving Garden Lodge. The dark ball of fur just sat there, listening calmly to Freddie’s outburst and purring loudly.”
“Whenever I was beavering away in the garden, Goliath would jump up and sit on my shoulder, purring in my left ear while watching me work.”
“Freddie came up, took one look at Goliath asleep in the marble washbasin and let out a hysterical scream. It became Goliath’s favourite spot to take a snooze, on a par with the laundry baskets for comfort.”
Miko
“The kitten was named Miko, and in the end she won over Goliath and even Delilah. We’d come down some mornings to find the three of them snuggled up in the basket together. Before long they were such friends that Delilah would even clean Miko, licking her all over.”
“The only regular visitors to The Mews in all that time were the cats. Miko slept with me every night.”
“This time, just as I was about to leave, little Miko appeared. She came into the kitchen and purred at me for a few minutes.”
Romeo
“I spotted it in a pet shop in Kensington High Street, where it sat on its own in the window bawling its head off. It was very big-boned with grey, white and black striped markings.”
“I opened the box and Freddie peeped inside. ‘You bastard!’ he said. I could tell from the expression on his face that the kitten could stay. He soon decreed that the kitten should be called Romeo...Romeo grew to be a real bruiser of a cat.”
“Early in 1990, when we’d had Romeo for several months, Freddie and I were walking into the conservatory, quickly followed by four of the cats. Suddenly Romeo turned on Goliath, Delilah and Miko and starting fighting. I looked at Freddie and called out ‘Rambo!’ ‘What do you mean, Rambo?’ he asked. ‘Watch him,’ I said. ‘He’s attacking all the other cats. He’s Rambo.’ It was a nickname which stuck.”
Lily
“Whenever Freddie saw the television commercial for cat-food featuring snowy-coated Arthur he said how much he’d like a white cat. Then he dismissed the idea because he thought it would be impossible to keep such a cat clean. I went to the pet shop in Kensington High Street one morning and in the window there were five kittens from the same litter. Each was completely white save for a few marks which were hardly noticeable.”
“Freddie bent down, stroked her and couldn’t resist picking her up. Freddie quickly christened our sixth cat. ‘We’ll call her Lily!’ he said. So Lily it was.”
For the third time that morning, their son decided to scream at the top of his lungs and wake up his exhausted parents. Jim blinked open bleary eyes and squinted in the darkness, just able to make out the face of the small, wind-up clock sitting on the nightstand.
5:20 am. Well, it was an hour later than yesterday.
As soon as he turned over, a tiny hand grabbed his nose and squeezed with remarkable strength for a six-month-old.
‘It’s your turn.’ Freddie mumbled; eyes still closed. ‘We flipped a coin and you lost.’
Jim resisted the urge to whack his husband with one of the pillows and, after a long stretch to get his circulation going, sat up and scooped the baby into his arms. He slipped out of bed and made his way to the ensuite bathroom, so accustomed to the sound of screaming that he barely noticed it anymore in his zombie-like state. The bathroom light was like fire to his eyes after being in darkness for so long, but he was able to fumble his way to the changing table and carefully set the infant down on the mat.
‘Yes, yes, I know.’ He mumbled through a yawn, as the little one continued to kick and fuss, making it nearly impossible to get his wet nappy removed. ‘It’s very itchy and you want it off. I’m trying to help you, pet, you need to work with me.’
He managed to restrain the kicking legs long enough to slip the soiled nappy off and wipe the little bottom clean; but the baby continued to grizzle, wailing against Jim’s shoulder even after his diaper had been replaced and his little dinosaur onesie buttoned back up.
‘God, I wish you could tell me what you want.’ Jim grumbled as he paced about the bedroom, swaying to and fro, singing softly to soothe the crying child, who was beginning to give him a headache. ‘Now, don’t give me that look, I know you’re not hungry. You’ve had your bottle; your tummy is full. You don’t need any more milk.’
As much as he loved his son to the moon and back, he’d be lying if he said he’d never contemplated just shutting the mini police siren in a wardrobe to give himself five minutes of peace. His nappy had been changed. He’d been fed only an hour ago. No fever, no sign of injury. Jim was completely stumped on what to do.
When the singing and swaying appeared to have no effect, the Irishman made his way back to bed and sat on top of the covers, cradling the babe close to his chest so those tiny hands could clutch his pyjama shirt for comfort. He cooed gently at the wriggling tot, stroked his thin hair, rubbed small circles on his belly, until finally, finally, the crying began to die down and the infant accepted the blue dummy that was placed at his lips, sucking on it contently.
‘Just wanted a cuddle, eh?’ Jim whispered, smiling despite his exhaustion. ‘You’re going to make your Daddy’s hair turn grey, you little sausage.’
‘Poor petal is just excited for his first Christmas.’ Freddie muttered, halfway to the land of dreams. ‘You wanted to make sure we were all awake to see Santa come, didn’t you, darling?’
‘I’m going to need a nice festive lie-in to catch up on all the sleep I’ve lost.’ Jim returned their son to the space between them, relieved to see two brown eyes begin to droop at last. ‘Otherwise, Daddy will be face down in his Christmas pudding, and we can’t have that, can we?’
‘As amusing as that would be to watch, Uncle Joe would not be happy to have his pudding go to waste.’ Freddie giggled and gave up on trying to fall asleep as he pecked one of those chubby cheeks. ‘Just you wait until you open your presents, sweetheart. You’re going to love what Papa’s picked out for you. A brand new coat, matching booties and some woolly gloves for when you play in the snow!’
‘Spoilers, Freddie.’ Jim smiled as the babe finally began to drift off and he leaned down to brush a feather light kiss against his son’s forehead. ‘Goodnight, my little angel. And Merry Christmas.’
Can I request some Jimercury hurt/comfort?🥺🥰 (I’ve been reading and loving your fics recently🥰🥰)
Jim can’t even remember what the argument was about.
Something to do with the garden, if he recalls correctly; the little wooden birdhouse Freddie asked him to build had been blown over during the night and for some reason his boyfriend deemed this act of God to be his fault. What should have been just another lover’s spat quickly descended into a full-blown screaming match, until it became less about the birdhouse and more about trying to see how much they could rile each other up with their words.
Then Freddie took it too far.
‘You really think I keep you around because I like you? You’re only here because you’re a useful idiot, Jim! You trim my hedges and occasionally you’re a good lay – that’s the extent of your use to me. Do you know how many men there are out there willing to do that? I could replace you in a heartbeat!’
Jim stared at him, mouth slightly open, blood swimming into both cheeks as Freddie’s words seemed to catch up with him and the singer covered his mouth, as if doing so could somehow take back everything that was said. Then Jim turned and walked straight out of the door, making his way up the staircase to the bedroom two steps at a time. He heard Freddie call after him but barely acknowledged his voice, unable to think of anything but the conformation that he was nothing more than a temporary fling, a toy for the great Freddie Mercury to play around with until he gets bored and tosses him away like yesterday’s rubbish.
Jim had planned to start packing the moment he reached the bedroom but found that all he could do was curl up on the master bed as he was struck by a swarm of different emotions at once. First anger, then guilt and finally, complete heartbreak. He’s made plenty of ridiculous mistakes in his life, but this is beyond a simple mishap. He was stupid enough to believe that he meant something to a global superstar, that he was anything more than a tiny weed in the huge garden of flowers Freddie has to choose from.
He’s such a fool. Freddie has a world of men at his disposal; did Jim really think he would settle for a lowly hairdresser who hadn’t even recognised him the first time they met?
His eyes fill with water as he clutches the bedsheets. He wishes he had never moved into Garden Lodge. He wishes he had never laid eyes on Freddie fucking Mercury. He wishes he could just disappear.
Little Miko appears in the doorway, clearly sensing his distress, and she hops up onto the bed beside him, nuzzling his chin so his tears are soaked up by her fur. Jim holds her close, gently rests his cheek against her tiny head and begins to sob.
--
Freddie can’t even remember what the argument was about.
Something to do with that confounded birdbox he had insisted Jim build if he remembers correctly; another one of his impulsive ventures, having been inspired after reading an old gardening catalogue. He hadn’t anticipated that the weather would take a turn for the worst overnight, and they discovered the box smashed to pieces on the lawn the next morning. Freddie being Freddie, he needed to find someone to blame – and Jim just so happened to be in the firing line at the time.
He cringes just thinking about how unfair he was, lecturing his boyfriend about not making the post secure enough and implying that Jim had sabotaged the entire thing on purpose just to annoy him. He doesn’t understand why he always has this urge to push people’s buttons, to make something a big deal when it really isn’t. Some twisted idea that a good argument is a sure sign of true love, or something ridiculous like that.
Then he took it too far.
Freddie hadn’t meant a word he said, not one bit of it. He had wanted to hurt Jim, but the moment he succeeded, he immediately regretted it. Seeing the look of devastation fall across the man's face was almost too much to bear; he held out his arms to his boyfriend, an apology already on his lips, but Jim turned and left the room abruptly, his footsteps disappearing up the staircase.
Freddie had wanted to follow him, but Phoebe quickly intervened, having heard the yelling all the way from the kitchen, and suggested he give the Irishman some space. He sat Freddie down, made him a cup of tea and reassured him that everything would be alright, that Jim would come round once he was calm. Good old Phoebe, always seeing the positive in every situation. Freddie would be lucky if Jim didn’t pack his bags and walk out then and there.
When Jim fails to show up for dinner, Freddie finally bites the bullet and climbs the stairs to the bedroom, a cup of coffee carefully balanced in both his shaking hands as a peace offering. He prays the Irishman isn’t too angry – though he has every right to be. He's expelled so much energy from earlier, he’s not sure if he has the stamina for another round of screaming.
As he approaches the bedroom door, he becomes sensible to the sound of crying; low, almost inaudible sobs, as if someone is in terrible pain. He pushes open the door with one hand and in the darkness is just able to make out the shape of his darling Jim lying face down on the bed, shoulders shaking as he wets the pillow with his tears.
‘Jim?’ Freddie calls out, alarmed.
The shape responds to his voice with a small whimper and Freddie quickly sets the coffee mug down on the nightstand before hurrying to sit on the bed. ‘Jim? Oh darling, please don’t cry! I’m so sorry sweetheart. Jim, please look at me!’
A loud, muffled sniff and the Irishman lifts his head to look up at Freddie with wet, red-rimmed eyes. ‘You don’t love me.’
‘No, Jim, no!’ Freddie almost bursts into tears himself, leaning down to scatter frantic kisses across every inch of Jim’s tear-stained face. ‘I love you, my darling, I love you so much! I didn’t mean what I said, not one word of it, I swear!’
He gathers the younger man up in his arms, rocking him back and forth like a child while Jim weeps into the crook of his neck. Miko watches them from the foot of the bed, her ears flat against her skull as she watches the two humans shed tears together until they’re physically unable to cry anymore.
‘I’m sorry, Jim.’ Freddie looks down at his boyfriend through long lashes, wiping away the stray droplets of water that remain on Jim’s cheeks. He’s never seen his lovely man in such a state; knowing he’s the one who caused it makes his heart go tight until he fears it will burst. ‘You have to believe me, dearest, I love you with every bone in my body. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I was being a horrible, hateful bastard and I never should have said such beastly things. Please forgive me.’
Jim nestles his face against the soft hollow of Freddie’s throat, exhausted from so much crying. ‘Why are you even with me? You could have any man in the world, and you lumbered yourself with this useless eejit. You deserve the best.’
‘And I have the best.’ Freddie brushes a tender kiss between Jim’s eyes. ‘You’re the only man who’s ever truly understood me, Jim. You’ve never given up on me, despite all the shit I put you through, even though I'm impossible to live with at times. I love you, Jim Hutton. I love you more than words can explain. I want you here with me, always, if you’ll stay.’
Jim leans back to look into Freddie’s eyes, searching for a lie. When he finds none, he nods tiredly and tucks his face back against his boyfriend’s neck.
‘You really hurt me, Freddie.’ He murmurs, lifting a hand to gently caress Miko as she rubs up against his side again.
‘I know, darling.’ Freddie drops a kiss into Jim’s hair, starting to rock them back and forth again. ‘I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if need be.’
“The only regular visitors to The Mews in all that time were the cats. Miko slept with me every night.”
“If my circumstances changed and I had to move from Garden Lodge, he would assume I’d do so with some of the cats. I asked Mary if I could take Miko with me.”
“I’d walk back to Garden Lodge late at night when there was no one around and call quietly for Miko and the other cats.”
“Two months later, on the first anniversary of Freddie’s death, 24 November, I returned again to Garden Lodge...This time, just as I was about to leave, little Miko appeared. She came into the kitchen and purred at me for a few minutes.”
- Jim Hutton, Mercury & Me.
We all know that Delilah was Freddie’s favourite cat. I strongly believe Miko was Jim’s 💜
I have a happy one! For the kid series. Hahaha, literally take this wherever you will, but Kahleel is on the doorstep to puberty and Freddie and Jim decide (or maybe one of them decides and the other is reluctant?) to have The Talk. About the Birds and the Bees. Adam and Eve. Or Steve. Really Adam and whatever he wants to do, but only when he's ready and 'not under my roof!' or maybe yes, because that's safer? Oh God. Do they even make it as far as talking to their son? Or do they get hung up on different ideas as to what ought to be said? Is Kahleel already totally well-informed? Leaving it all up to you, just an idea which tickles me as a parent! XD
Part 50 of Jimercury Kid AU
Warning for an extremely awkward attempt at sex ed.
‘I think you’d be better at explaining this to him, darling.’ Freddie reached across the table and gave Jim’s hand a pat. ‘You know you’re his favourite parent. He always listens to you. You’re so kind and understanding – you don’t nag, nag, nag like I do.’
Jim cocked a brow at him. ‘Nice try, love. But you’re not wriggling your way out of this one. If anyone knows about sex it’s you. You were a rabbit back in your day.’
Freddie sighed and drew his hand back again. ‘Well, it was worth a try.’
Jim couldn’t quite remember how this conversation had started – something to do with how quickly Khaleel was growing up, already on the brink of adolescence when it seemed like only yesterday he was their little baby boy – but they had somehow ended up on the topic of the birds and the bees, and how exactly they were going to go about explaining the facts of life to their twelve-year-old son when he inevitably began asking questions.
Jim thought it was too soon, personally. Khaleel was still so young, should be worried about climbing trees and kicking a football around instead of…well, that.
‘We could always do what Phoebe suggested and buy him a book.’ He said to Freddie.
‘Books are so impersonal.’ His husband replied. ‘We’re his parents, it’s our responsibility to educate him on things like this. God knows, I wish my parents had.’
Jim felt a twinge of guilt and took Freddie’s hand in his own. ‘You and me both. Most of my education came from dirty magazines the boys at school used to read behind the bike shed. We’re of a different generation, Freddie.’
‘Well, ourboy certainly isn’t going to be exposed to any of that filth.’ Said Freddie adamantly. ‘We’ve raised him to be a respectable gentleman.’ He glanced at the clock hanging above the door. ‘I suppose we better get this over with before Phoebe starts on supper.’
‘Want me to summon the monster from his cave?’
‘I sincerely hope you’re not referring to our son.’
Jim chuckled and pushed out his chair, waltzing over to the doorway and sticking his head through to yell up the stairs. ‘Kenny! Come to the dining room, please!’
Puberty seemed to be slowing Khaleel down, as it was a full ten minutes before he eventually showed up, Walkman in hand and headphones plastered to his ears as he bobbed his head to the music. Freddie cringed at the sound of smacking lips, as the preteen chewed away at a piece of gum.
‘Khaleel.’ Freddie folded his arms, giving his son the infamous “look” that always immediately earned obedience. Khaleel hit the pause button and slid his headphones down to his neck. ‘What have I told you about listening to that at full volume? You’ll ruin your hearing.’
Khaleel shrugged. ‘You always play your records at full volume, and it’s never ruined your hearing.’
‘He has a point, Fred.’ Jim sniggered, taking a sip from his coffee mug, and ignoring the glower he received in return.
‘Take a seat, darling.’ Freddie murmured, pulling out a chair for the boy to sit on. ‘And for goodness’ sake, stop that chewing. If that goes down your throat, you’ll choke! Jim!’
Jim sighed and held out his hand for Khaleel to spit his gum into.
‘We want to talk to you about something.’ Freddie continued.
Khaleel sensed the urgency in his tone and immediately sat down, eyeing them both warily. ‘Are you two splitting up?’
‘What? Of course not!’ Freddie almost laughed, sitting as well. ‘No, we wanted to talk to you about…well, it’s to do with you actually.’
‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘No, lovie.’ Freddie had never been so eager for the ground to swallow him up in his life. ‘We just wanted to talk to you about…well, you’re at an age now where you’re going to start going through this thing called puberty. It’s when your body begins to undergo changes that prepares you for adulthood and you become…sexually mature.’
Colour swam into Khaleel’s cheeks, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘Okay…’
‘The older you get, the more interested you’ll become in…sex.’ Freddie coughed and quickly took a gulp of tea to clear his throat. ‘Now, you’re not to start worrying about that sort of thing until you’re much older. But it’s important that you understand what it is and how to stay safe while doing it.’
‘I know what sex is.’ Khaleel perked up. ‘It’s when a man sticks his roger in a woman’s-’
‘Khaleel Joseph!’ Freddie cried amidst the sound of Jim spitting out a mouthful of coffee. ‘Where on earth did you hear that?’
‘The boys at school were talking about it. The man puts his roger in the woman’s fanny and-’
‘Alright, alright!’ Freddie clamped his hands over his ears, face burning as Jim spluttered with laughter in the background. ‘Looks like we can skip that step. Now listen, Bijou, it’s important for you to know that what you’re going to feel is perfectly natural and happens to everyone. But with sex comes a lot of responsibility; there are these things called condoms and it’s very important you always wear one.’
Khaleel cocked his head in interest. ‘You mean those weird balloons you put on your roger? Piers Buchanan found a packet of them in the playground once. We blew them up and kicked them around.’
‘Stop laughing, Jim!’ Freddie snapped, as the Irishman doubled over, clutching his stomach. ‘Yes, those. Condoms are very important, dear. When you meet a girl and you…well, you know…it means you can safely have sex without getting her pregnant.’
Khaleel made a face, as if there was a bad smell in the air. ‘Don’t worry, Baba. I don’t ever want to put my roger in a girl’s fanny. It sounds horrible.’
‘Just wait until the hormones kick in.’ Jim mumbled.
‘I think we’ve covered enough ground today.’ Freddie said quickly, face completely crimson at this point. ‘Run along now, Phoebe will be getting dinner ready soon.’
Satisfied that this awkward lecture was over, Khaleel jumped up and returned his headphones to his ears, reaching into his pocket to get another wad of gum. ‘So, how do you and Dad do it?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘How do you and Dad have sex? Neither of you have got a fanny, so what do you-?’
‘I’m going to stop you right there.’ Jim cut in, steering the boy towards the doorway. ‘Go listen to that Soup Doggy Dog or whatever his name is.’
‘Snoop Dogg, Dad!’ Khaleel rolled his eyes and blew a large bubble, before turning his Walkman back on and making himself scarce. As soon as he had disappeared, Freddie groaned and bonked his head against the dining room table.
hello!! just found your account recently and I love the content you post! I had a bit of a suggestion for the Jimercury/Kid AU if that’s alright (of course, if that’s still being updated, no pressure at all) - could there be a scenario with Khaleel meeting Elton John (or Auntie Sharon ;) ) or any other of Freddie’s close friends?
Part 49 of Jimercury Kid Series
‘Careful now, darling!’ Elton chuckled as the excited nine-year-old did another spin, the jewels on his costume shimmering in the light like the sun reflecting off the ocean. ‘You don’t want to use up all your energy. I still want you to show me what you’ve been learning in that dance class of yours after supper.’
Freddie’s mouth stretched into a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s as he and Jim watched Khaleel glide around the lounge in the costume Elton had designed for him specially. "Auntie Sharon" had caught wind of Khaleel’s fondness for Swan Lake, after the child had gabbled about it to the couple's guests when they were hosting one of their many soirees at Garden Lodge; now, on the eve of Khaleel's ninth birthday, Elton had paid a special visit to deliver his gift - a white catsuit, adorned with melee diamonds and feathers sewn on to the shoulders and arms so they resembled wings.
Roger was still convinced that somebody had stolen Freddie’s sperm when he wasn’t looking and Freddie was beginning to consider the possibility that he might be right; Khaleel was truly a mini-Mercury, flitting around like a butterfly as he showed off his pirouettes, stretching his legs and pointing his toes. Within the solid walls of his home, he was safe to be himself; it was the big, unforgiving world outside that Freddie was afraid of.
‘I’m like the white swan!’ Khaleel spread out his arms, as if he was ready to take flight. ‘I’m going to fall in love with a handsome prince and then throw myself off a cliff when he runs away with the black swan.’
Elton covered his mouth, though it did nothing to hold back his laughter. ‘Gracious, Melina. What were you watching, Swan Lake or Eastenders?’
‘I wouldn't liken ballet to soap operas in front of Freddie, if I were you.’ Jim chuckled and went to scoop Khaleel up in his arms, rubbing his stubble against the boy’s neck so he squealed. ‘And don’t you dare go throwing yourself off any cliffs, you little rascal. The white swan should have had a nice cup of tea and a heart-to-heart with her girlfriends to fix her broken heart instead.’
‘Quite right, darling.’ Freddie walked over to join the pair as Jim swooped Khaleel around, making airplane noises. ‘As for you, young man, what do you say to Auntie Sharon?’
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, Auntie Sharon!’ Khaleel sang as Jim brought him down to land and he went to hug Elton around the waist. ‘I love my outfit, it’s perfect! I want to wear it to my party tomorrow!’
Freddie felt his smile falter a little. He was still wary about letting Khaleel dress so extravagantly in front of guests, particularly ones from school, where gossip spread like wildfire. But his child had every right to dress how he wanted in his own home. He could bite the bullet, just for one day.
‘Of course, Bijou - so long as you take extra special care of it.’ Freddie said gently. ‘Now, why don’t you bounce into the kitchen and show Uncle Phoebe your new look? I know he’d love to see it.’
Khaleel nodded eagerly and grabbed onto Jim’s hand, practically dragging his father out of the room to go and find Phoebe. Freddie knelt down and picked up the single, tiny white feather that had fallen off the boy’s costume, rubbing it between his fingers.
‘I envy you, you know.’ Elton murmured, coming up behind the Persian man and resting a hand against his shoulder. ‘He’s a gorgeous little thing. So polite – and so talented.’
'He is, if I do say so myself.' Freddie laughed, before pausing to wet his lips. ‘Have you and David thought any more about…?’
Silence fell over the room a moment. Sensing the sudden tension, Freddie reached up and held onto the hand grasping his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. He knew children were still a sensitive subject for Elton, and he wished he hadn’t brought it up. Stupid of him really…
‘I don’t think we’re ready yet.’ Elton replied, sounding unsure of himself. ‘We’ve only been together four years. And we’ve got our careers to think about. We’re not all lucky enough to be retired like you.’
Freddie laughed despite himself, squeezing Elton’s hand tighter. His eyes fell to the ground a moment, studying his shoes.
‘You’ll be a wonderful dad, Sharon.’ He said so gently, it was almost a whisper. ‘Whenever you decide you’re ready. Those kids will be so blessed to have you and David.’
He knew his old friend was smiling, could feel it radiating off him. Elton removed his hand and wrapped both his arms around Freddie’s middle, resting his chin on his shoulder. ‘How did two old queens like us end up so lucky?’
‘I ask myself that every day.’ Freddie replied honestly. ‘When I open my eyes in the morning and see Jim snoring away into the pillow beside me. When Khaleel comes running in and bounces on us, wanting to get downstairs for breakfast. When I watch Phoebe in the kitchen and feel Delilah’s fur between my fingers. It’s strange how it’s the little things that make you realise what you have, and how much it really means to you. But you know something, darling? I don’t think I’m lucky. I prefer to think that this was all simply meant to be.’
Prompt request: Freddie comes to visit Jim at the Savoy (either first time meeting, or they've known each other, up to you) and Jim gives him a very sweet and unexpected compliment about something he's insecure about. ; )
‘Your smile is beautiful.’
This statement catches Freddie off guard, and he feels his cheeks begin to burn as he stares at the hairdresser through the mirror, wondering if he heard him properly. The hand that had whipped up to cover his mouth when he started laughing at the Irishman’s quip about Margaret Thatcher slowly lowers back down to his lap, and he plays with his fingers awkwardly, wondering where the courage that always conquers him on the club scene has scuttled off to.
No one has ever complimented his smile before. Not once in his entire life. Even his own parents are evasive when it comes to the subject of his hideous overbite, and simply pretend that it doesn’t exist rather than offer any assurance that it gives him character or individuality. He’s had more than one ex recommend that he get his “problem” fixed, with Bill Reid going as far as to remark that he had “teeth only a rabbit could love.”
Jim’s either mad as a hatter or he’s winding Freddie up.
Probably the latter, Freddie decides and stretches his lips into a thin smile, ready to chuckle along politely. But a laugh never comes; when he glances up at Jim again, he sees he’s gone quite red in the face as well, looking like a man who has just been told he has weeks to live.
‘I’m sorry, sir.’ The Irishman rambles. ‘That was very unprofessional of me.’
Freddie’s heart does a little spin in his chest at the realisation that Jim’s words hadn’t been a joke, that he had seen those cursed buck teeth and genuinely found some sort of beauty in them. He should be sorry, making Queen’s legendary frontman blush like a virgin. The scoundrel!
‘That’s quite alright, darling.’ Freddie replies, feigning confidence. ‘I must say, you have quite a dashing smile yourself.’
He decides that the Savoy will be his new port of call whenever he needs a decent trim. It has nothing to do with the handsome Irishman who likes his smile and looks strikingly similar to Burt Reynolds. No, it’s purely because of the exemplary service and the complimentary mints they leave out for customers on the counter.
(‘But you don’t even like mints.’ Roger says later when he’s returned to the hotel.)
