the scent of heat → r . taylor ( COMPLETED )

nine

It felt like each night was more electrifying than the last. Each night, the crowds were huge, the sounds were deafening, and post concert sex Roger and Adeline shared was breathtaking, literally. And each night, they would fall asleep in the back of the tour bus, while Brian played Scrabble with Freddie, and John napped on a couch. And despite all the girls calling Roger's name each night, Adeline watched the show happily, knowing that she was the one he was coming back to.

After one show, when Adeline and Roger couldn't sneak away, the whole band was on the bus, huddled around a table with a Scrabble board on top. She was squeezed between Brian and Roger, keeping her head propped up as she watched their game. Every once in a while, she would glance at Roger's tiles, lean a bit closer to him, and help him out, which encouraged cries of cheating from the other three.

"Oi! Quit letting the elementary school teacher help you out!" one of the roadies called, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"Oi, spell 'obnoxious'," Adeline called back, and the man fell silent. She settled back into her seat with a smirk, and she let her head rest on Roger's shoulder. But then she quickly lifted her head, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Rog, you smell like beer and sweat. That's so gross!" She shuffled closer to Brian, who laughed and held her close to his side. Roger rolled his eyes and looked back at his tiles, all while Freddie played a word. The rest of the game was filled with laughter, and eventually, Adeline sat a bit closer to Roger again, looking over his tiles with a sleepy smile. Against her better judgement, she set her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"You can't go to sleep now. Who'll help me out?" he teased, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"You can manage. You're smarter than you think," she mumbled, and Roger smiled down at her as she fell asleep.

***

The American tour was over before everyone knew it. And once again, Roger had to part with Adeline, but it wasn't for long. It took only a few weeks before they were called back into Ray Foster's office, and Adeline was sitting at a table near the back of the room, her head propped up on her hand. She, the boys, Ray, John Reid, and Paul were all waiting for Freddie to arrive, and like always, he was late. And Adeline wanted nothing more than to be snuggled up beside Roger in bed, like they had been that morning. Suddenly, the office door opened, startling Adeline and making her jump in her seat.

"Hello." Freddie came in, and everyone looked to him.

"You're late," Ray said.

"Am I?"

"We saved you a seat," Paul said, motioning to the empty chair closest to him. Freddie sat down, and Adeline got up, walking over to lean against the back of the couch the boys were sitting on.

"Lovely."

"Okay, so now that we're all here... Jim, this is Ray Foster. Ray, this is the band's lawyer, Jim Beach," Reid said, and everyone's eyes went from Ray, behind his desk, to Jim, who stood by the door.

"You must stop calling him that," Freddie said as he lit a cigarette.

"That's his name."

"No, we cannot keep calling him "Jim Beach." No, that's absurd. Not to mention unspeakably boring." Freddie took a drag from his cigarette. "Miami. From now on, I dub thee "Miami Beach."

"The sun always sets behind you, doesn't it? On Miami Beach," Miami said, and Adeline smiled softly.

"Hmm, right. Now that everybody's got an acceptable name... let's get to it. Look, we just need something really special. More hits, like Killer Queen, only bigger." As Ray spoke, Freddie had gotten up from his seat, a record sleeve in hand.

"It's not bloody widgets we're making. We can't just reproduce Killer Queen," Roger said.

"No. We can do better." Freddie made his way over to the record player near the window, set the record down, and lifted the needle onto it. Adeline smiled softly and took hold of Roger's hand as a woman's voice filled the room.

"It's opera," Foster said.

"Opera!" Reid chuckled.

"Opera!" Prenter echoed.

"There seems to be an echo in here," Deaky said, and Adeline giggled softly. All while, Freddie was moving around the room, moving his hand in time to the music. Roger gave Adeline's hand a squeeze as Freddie tossed a record across the room, watching it hit the wall and roll by the couch. Brian picked it up and handed it back to Reid, who tossed it back to Foster. Freddie turned down the volume on the record player as Brian leaned forward on the couch.

"See, we don't want to repeat ourselves. The same formula over and over," he said.

"Formulas are a complete and utter waste of time," Freddie added.

"Formulas work. Let's stick with the formulas. I like formulas," Foster said, and Adeline rolled her eyes.

"I'm starting to hate the word formula," she said, and Freddie nodded.

"We'll call the album A Night at the Opera," he said.

"Are you aware that no one actually likes opera?" Foster asked.

"I like opera," Miami interjected.

"Do you?"

"I do," Reid said.

"No, don't misunderstand, darling. It's a rock and roll record, with the scale of opera, the pathos of Greek tragedy, the wit of Shakespeare, the unbridled joy of musical theater. It's a musical experience," Freddie explained.

"Yeah," Foster muttered.

"Rather than just another record. Something for everyone. Something... something that will make people feel belongs to them. We'll mix genres, we'll cross boundaries. We'll... we'll speak in bloody tongues if we want to."

"There's no musical ghetto that can contain us," Roger said.

"That's it."

"No one knows what Queen means because it doesn't mean one thing," Deaky added.

"Queen is an experience in itself," Addy said quietly, and for the first time, all eyes were on her, "no one sounds like them, and they don't sound like anyone else."

"What do you think, John?" Foster asked.

"I... agree with the band," Reid said.

"Of course you do. How about you, uh..."

"Miami. Fortune favors the bold."

"Surely, a man of your... unique taste... isn't afraid of a little risk?" Freddie asked, setting his hands on the desk.

"Please don't make me regret this," Foster said softly.

"You're fun."