𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄.

chapter 𝐭𝐞𝐧.

ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚

[ another one bites the dust ]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.. You were seated beside Jim as you both read through numerous legal forms in the recording studio whilst the group of men fought. 

"We're a rock and roll band," Roger argued. "We don't do disco."

"It's not disco," Deacy shut down with a shake of his head. He looked quite tired with all the bickering.

"Then what is it?" Brian asked.

"It's Queen."

"So sorry, my darlings!" Freddie exclaimed from the booth. "Lost all track!"

Roger stood up from the couch, glaring at the singer. "You fired Reid without consulting us! You don't make decisions for the band."

"Hey," Brian warned lowly, holding his hand up, trying to settle him down.

Freddie entered the room with Paul trailing behind him. "Well, I'm terribly sorry, dear. It's done. Besides, Miami will manage us. Won't you, darling?"

Jim chuckled nervously, glancing at you. "Um, I'll think about it."

"No. And besides, you'll have dear Y/N helping you."

"Are you high again?" Brian questioned.

"Well done, Columbo," Freddie sarcastically congratulated. 

"You need to slow down, Fred."

"Oh, don't be such a bore. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Roger countered.

"I don't care if you're shit-faced," Deacy stated, walking over to Freddie and slapping the paper to his chest. "As long as you can sing." 

He handed the paper to Roger and Brian, the former huffing, "No, John, I don't want to play it."

"Then I'm all for it," Freddie said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm tired of the bloody anthems. I want the energy in the clubs," the singer explained. "The bodies. I want to make people move."

"You mean disco?" Brian clarified.

"Why not?" Paul asked.

The guitarist turned, shooting the man a glare. "Do you mind pissing off? This is a band discussion." 

Paul did the opposite, moving towards the couch and taking a seat as Roger spoke, "Drum loops? Synthesizers?"

"If you say so," Freddie shrugged.

"It's not us!"

"Us?"

"It's not Queen!"

"Queen is whatever I say it is!"

Brian scoffed, shaking his head and Roger walked over to Freddie with a scowl. "Well, you can play your own bloody drums, then."

In a fit of pettiness, Freddie pressed the music sheet to Roger's face and shoved him away. "Fred," Brian started.