Work Text:
Monday, July 31st, 1978
Roger came prancing into the studio, particularly light on his feet this morning. He was humming a tune that Freddie couldn’t quite distinguish, but he was sure he’d heard it before; it sounded like something out of an old ‘50s movie.
Brian piped up, not taking his eyes off the guitar he was carefully plucking. “Roger, please don’t tell me the song you’re humming is your next idea for the new album. I’ve already had it up to here with your last one.”
“Oh, piss off Brian. You’re just angry because I wouldn’t let you do the vocals for ‘Fun It’.”
Brian responded with a series of noises intending to mock him, which received no reaction from anyone other than John, who let out a small giggle.
Now whistling his tune, Roger propped himself on the armrest of the couch, its once maroon colours now fading with age. Pulling out a packet of cigarettes, Freddie was enticed. Slumping into the couch next to Roger, Freddie managed to slyly pull a cigarette from Roger’s packet, which he was certain he didn’t notice.
“Roger, dear, do you have a lighter?”
“I dunno, Fred. Do you have your own pack of cigs?” Roger laughed, lighting both of their cigarettes.
John joined Freddie on the sofa, opening his own packet of cigarettes and lighting one himself.
Roger feigned a serious voice, “Have you ever considered buying your own cigarettes, Fred?”
Freddie retorted quickly. “Well of course not, dear.” He paused before grinning, “I have all of you for that!”
Freddie proceeded to wander towards Brian, still plucking his guitar, with curiosity getting the better of him.
“Well I, for one, refuse to fuel your addictions. Do you know how bad those a—”
Before he could finish, Freddie blew a cloud of smoke into Brian’s face, laughter erupting from the rest of the band.
“Very funny,” Brian sighed, waving the smoke away with his hand. “Now can you lot get off your arses and help me with this bloody album?”
It felt as though the lights in the studio were getting dimmer as the day went on, and the band’s energy was being drained with it.
“I’m just not feeling it, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” John mumbled to Brian through the microphone attached to his guitar.
Holding a button, Brian spoke through the soundproof barrier. “You’re alright, John. It’s Monday, go easy on yourself. Let’s try it again from the top.”
“Alright, that’s it.” Roger stood up. “We’re taking a break; nothing is getting done. Let’s all get out of this bloody place for a minute.”
Wandering down the hall, Roger began humming the tune from earlier in the day.
“There’s that tune again! What on earth is it, Roger?” Freddie inquired, partly out of curiosity, mostly hoping he’d stop.
“God, is it really bothering you that much?” Roger asked Freddie, a little disheartened.
“Yes, it is.” John yelled, a few metres ahead of the rest of the group, eliciting a laugh from them.
“If you must know,” Roger began, “You know that movie ‘Grease’?”
John slowed his pace to join the conversation. “That’s the one with that gorgeous Australian in it, right? I can’t quite remember her name, but let me tell you—”
Roger cut him off. “Olivia Newton-John, yes. She’s a right beauty. Well, I went with Dom to see it the other day for my birthday.”
“I didn’t take you for the musical type, Rog.”
“Well I’m not really, Brian. To tell you the truth, Olivia was the only reason I really wanted to see it. What I wouldn’t give for that woman…” Roger drifted off into thought for a moment.
“Snap out of it, dear. Is there a point to you telling us this?” Freddie was growing tired of hearing Roger review the film.
“Yes, sorry! I went out and bought the soundtrack for the movie, because I actually really enjoyed it, and there’s a few songs on there that I don’t remember being in the movie. I’ve got this one stuck in my head.” Roger grinned. “You’ll never guess what it’s called, Fred.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s called Freddy My Love, but with a ‘y’ on the end of Freddy instead of an ‘ie’.”
Roger paused for a moment, seeming as though he was preparing himself. It was then that he outstretched his arms and began frolicking around Freddie, singing the tune the band had now become familiar with.
“Freddy my love, I miss you more than words can say! A-a-a-aah!” Grabbing his hands, Roger began imitating an infatuated fan at Freddie's feet.
“Freddy my love, please keep in touch while you’re away! Ooooh yeah!”
In between laughs, Freddie exclaimed “For God’s sake, darling! You just turned 29, not 15!”
Freddie’s remarks didn’t stop Roger, now on one knee. “Hearing from you can make the day so much better! Ooooh!”
This continued for what felt like an eternity to Freddie, but flew by in a matter of seconds for the rest of the boys, highly entertained.
“Come on then, you idiot!” Brian said, still laughing, whilst reaching forward to restrain Roger. “Let’s get him back to the studio before he starts serenading all of us.”
Making their way back, the group now feeling relaxed, Roger remarked, “Why’s it always Freddie, huh? What about ‘Roger My Love’? You’d never hear that in a musical.”
“Well that’s because Freddie is such a wonderful name! I mean this in the kindest way possible, my dear, but Roger is rather… bland.”
Roger let out an obviously fake laugh. “What would you suggest instead, Mr. Mercury?”
“To be absolutely honest, anything other than Roger, darling. That goes for all of you, too.”
The group let out a howl.
“Give it a rest, Freddie,” John exclaimed, still laughing. “You lot already swapped my name around on the first album.”
“We're still sorry about that, Deaky.” Roger wrapped his arm around John, lovingly. “Mark my words, one of these days, I’m putting all our names in a song. Equal recognition,” he emphasised. “Just you wait.”