Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

1985: "If You're Gonna Cock It Up..." P- II

A/N-
Thank you so much for all the engagement on Part 1! I really appreciate it. I hope you'll enjoy part 2...💜

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Hayes reached Freddie's trailer in record time thanks to a few long, determined, and furious strides.

Luckily no one else dared to intercept him, because in Hayes' current state he may quite literally have growled at someone rather than search for a scathing remark. He raised his fist to knock at the flimsy door, perhaps more angrily than he should have. The door creaked open and Hayes took a cautionary glance over his shoulder before slipping inside.

"My god, if you took any longer I was going to go out there and make a scene."

Freddie's ever-soft voice almost instantly soothed Hayes's churned up temper. The familiar warmth of him entering Hayes' space further sped up the cool down process. However, Hayes couldn't completely wipe away the traces of anger that had engraved itself in his tensed jaw.

"Oh no." Freddie murmured, taking a gentle hold of Hayes' face between his two palms, "What's happened?"

"Nothing, nothing." Hayes smacked a weak smile onto his lips, "How are you feeling? You look a little more steady than you sounded earlier."

"Yes, I'm feeling good about the whole thing." Freddie let his hands drop, but only as far as Hayes' waist. "I think we're the only ones who did any sort of proper rehearsals."

"Swots." Hayes chuckled, and playfully caught Freddie on the chin.

"Mhm," Freddie slowly backed him against the door, "What's wrong?"

"In any case," Hayes ignored the question completely, "Many of those acts don't know how to do a stadium gigs—"

"You know, I had been warned that Hayes Griffith was at his top billing today."

"Is that what they've been whispering?" Hayes sniffed, "I have been too busy trying to free myself from the massive black hole that is Paul's ego. I've not had time to do much else. Swallows up everything he passes!"

Freddie blinked, "Paul— Paul McCartney?"

"Yes, that's the one." He sniped, "Avoid him at all costs. Should be an easy enough task, you can't miss him— he's the man who behaves as though he's god's gift to humanity!"

"Well, you both can come across a little..." Freddie couldn't think of a way to phrase it delicately, so he didn't "Hardheaded. So I suppose—"

"Hardheaded?" Hayes repeated as if the word could never possibly be used to describe him, "Hardheaded? Me?"

"I'm not saying either of you are— just that—"

"This is exactly what he wants." Hayes exclaimed, "He's trying to turn us against some another! Fucking brilliant, he's winning!"

Freddie recognised Hayes' crazed and clumsy ramblings for the blaring signs of stress that they really were. The move to London had really twisted up Hayes' repressive past, and being forced to hide his relationship only exacerbated things. His current gig on the BBC was wildly successfully, and moving in with Freddie had made him happier than ever, but there was this new kernel of anger that had recently embedded itself within Hayes. He loved Freddie, and shouldn't have to hide the fact in order to keep a population of strangers happy.

"Alright dear," Freddie squeezed his waist gently, "Good to see you haven't let him get to you."

Hayes muttered a few further grumpy utterances beneath his breath before Freddie placed an amused kiss to his lips. That appeared to be a salve to soothe all irritants, because Hayes felt his body sag from its severely uptight hold.