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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 1)

’Tis the Season 📸

‘This is ridiculous.’ Joe announced to nobody in particular, the bell on the end of his hat jingling loudly as he shook his head from side to side with dismay.

It was hard to take him seriously when he was dressed head to toe in green and red, his legs squeezed into a pair of striped candy cane tights and his feet sporting a pair of ridiculous elf shoes with pom poms sewn at the tips. Phoebe found himself desperately biting the inside of his cheek in an effort not to laugh, because that would be majorly hypocritical of him. He looked just as ridiculous in the Santa costume Freddie had insisted that he put on; red coat, black boots, and a beard that looked like someone had shaved a poodle and glued the stray hairs to his chin.

He felt the most sorry for Jim though. He’d drawn the short straw and got stuck with the reindeer suit.

‘Don’t be silly, darling!’ Freddie chimed, almost denting his halo on the doorframe as he shepherded the last of the cats into the conservatory. ‘You all look fantastic. We’re definitely going to outdo last year’s photos.’

Ah, yes. Last year’s photos. Jim remembered Christmas of ’87 well. That cursed snowman costume still haunted his dreams.

He could hardly remember what life was like before Freddie introduced him to the classic Garden Lodge tradition that was the family Christmas card. Because, unlike most normal people, who simply buy their cards from the local shop for a couple of pounds, Freddie was adamant they don their gayest apparel and treat their loved ones to a personalised holiday greeting.

Jim pitied the cats the most. Last year, they were gingerbread men. Today, Freddie had decided to switch things up and now five little Christmas puddings were waddling about the conservatory, either gnawing angrily at their unwanted attire or staring into space wondering, how in all their nine lives, it had come to this. Only the kitten, Miko, appeared to be taking this whole ordeal in her stride, bouncing around the place with considerable energy while her siblings gave her the evil eye.

‘I think we’re ready!’ Freddie cooed over to the poor photographer, who had the look of a man who had just stepped onto the Uncanny Valley. ‘Make sure you’ve got a good hold on Goliath, Liza, he tends to wriggle a bit.’

‘A bit?’ Joe huffed, dodging the angry black paw that swatted dangerously close to his nose.

‘Alright, say cheese!’ Cried the photographer, prompting everyone in the vicinity to fix the camera with grins the Cheshire Cat would be proud of. Jim was certain that if he smiled any wider, he’d pull a muscle and his mouth would be stuck that way forever.

A white flash lit up the room, accompanied by a chorus of yowls as the cats went scrambling for cover, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake.

‘Well, that’s the last time I hire that buffoon.’ Freddie grumbled a few days later, scowling down at the pile of photographs scattered on the coffee table. ‘These monstrosities aren’t fit to see the light of day, let alone be the face of a Christmas card!’

‘I quite like them.’ Joe said matter-of-factly, examining the snapshot of him being severely clawed by Goliath, his face a mere blur as he attempted to get the crazed animal off him. ‘I think they perfectly symbolise the true chaos of the holiday season that is often overlooked in today’s society.’

Freddie gave him a look that could have set the room on fire.

‘I like them too.’ Phoebe held up a photograph that had Delilah frozen in mid-air after leaping out of Freddie’s arms to escape the camera flash. ‘See here, it looks as though Freddie is tossing aside a Christmas pudding, as if doing away with the commercialised traditions that are forced upon us by the materialistic world we live in. When you really think about it, this isn’t just a photograph. It’s art.’

‘I hate both of you so much.’ Freddie muttered.

‘On the bright side, Jim and Miko look great in all of them.’ Joe pointed out the Irishman smiling away amidst the ruckus, Miko sitting happily in his arms as if she had simply been born for the role of a Christmas pudding. ‘If you cut the rest of us out and just use them, you’ll have the perfect card.’

Freddie could not deny that Jim looked a picture in his reindeer costume (which had been quickly peeled off and discarded onto the bedroom floor the moment the pair of them were alone.) Little Miko was adorable as always, her little pink tongue poking out, her one white paw raised as if she was waving at the camera, oblivious to the disarray surrounding her. Even if the rest of the photograph was hideous, he didn’t have to heart to throw them away when it was such a great snapshot of his beloved husband.

‘Oh, fuck it – let’s use this one.’ Freddie picked up the one photograph that was free of any blurs, with Goliath now prised on Joe’s head and Tiffany picking a fight with Phoebe’s fake beard. ‘I’m going to be the laughingstock of Kensington, but at least everyone will know how handsome my man is.’

‘And how cute the latest addition to the family is.’ Jim added, little Miko curled up against his chest, purring contently. ‘If you ask me Freddie, this outdoes last year’s photo by far. It shows us for what we are – four disaster gays and our cats.’

Freddie would have protested, were it not true. He chuckled despite himself and put an arm around Jim, resting his head on his husband’s shoulder as he used his free hand to reach over and rub between Miko’s tiny ears. ‘At least one of my children appreciates the family Christmas card tradition. Just you wait, lovie. Next year, we’ll have you all dressed as little penguins – and Phoebe can be the big friendly polar bear who comes to play with you.’

Joe’s laughter was immediately cut off as Phoebe thumped him round the head with a cushion.

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 25)

And To All a Good Night 💍

Freddie could distinctly remember saying that he didn’t expect to make old bones.

Old age had always been something he dreaded considerably. From the loss of mobility to the slow degradation of looks, he had no aspirations of making it to sixty, let alone seventy-five. As far as he was concerned, he’d be happier to die young and in his prime, rather than live to be the shell of the person he once was, his entire existence merely a waiting game until he was touched by the cold kiss of death.

It was his illness that made him reconsider this opinion. Being so close to the end seemed to flip a switch in his brain that made him realise how much more of life he still had to experience, and how it would be worth living even if it came along with painful joints and mobility scooters. When Khaleel came into their lives, it only furthered his determination to make it to his twilight years; no matter how frail and ugly he became in the passage of time, he was going to hold on for the sake of his son. After all, Khaleel deserved to have his father around for as long as possible.

Freddie had to disagree with his younger self now, as he examined his reflection in the bedroom mirror. True, he wasn’t quite the spring chicken he had been in his youth; his hair was thin and grey, the skin on his face was loose and sagging, and he even had a few liver spots dotted around the bridge of his nose like freckles. But while many would see such changes as unflattering, Freddie found them curiously beautiful. He was far more comfortable in his skin than he used to be, the obsession with his physical appearance having waned over time; he found within himself a deeper kind of beauty, one which worked its way out from the inside, far more authentic and less superficial.

He was a happier man now that he was older. He wished he could turn back the clock and tell Little Freddie that everything would turn out okay. God knows, he had needed to hear it.

There was a soft knock at the door and Jim walked in, proudly sporting the hideous reindeer sweater Freddie had bought him as a gag gift. He approached his husband and gently wound his arms around that still pleasantly slender waist, resting his chin against Freddie’s shoulder. ‘Kenny just called. They got held up at the airport, but they’re almost here now.’

To say that it was difficult having their baby live so far away was an understatement. But that’s what you get when your son falls in love with an American and decides to uproot to the States. And Khaleel wasn’t a little boy anymore; he was thirty-one, a ballet master, married for seven years, and now had kids of his own. Seamus Farrokh, their rambunctious toddler, and Kashmira Ann, only four months.

It was crazy how much the world had changed in what felt like such a short amount of time. When Freddie was thirty, the very notion that a gay man could live openly with his partner and have their own biological children via surrogacy was laughable, some unobtainable fantasy one could only dream of. But it wasn’t 1976; it was 2021, and while society still had a long way to go (and Freddie himself was still unlearning his own deeply ingrained biases day by day,) being a queer boy in London wasn’t quite the death sentence it had once been. Seeing Khaleel so comfortable in his own skin, proud of his identity and unafraid of the naysayers, was all Freddie had ever wanted for him. One of his biggest parental fears was his poor boy experiencing the same hatred, self-loathing, judgement, and heartbreak he’d had to go through as a consequence of living his true self. But thank God, Khaleel had been born in the right decade.

‘Do you think I’ll be able to convince him to come back to England and live with us?’ Freddie chuckled, fiddling with his own ugly sweater, which had a goofy, googly-eyed polar bear on the front of it. ‘I know I’ve asked him that every year since he moved out, but fiftieth time’s a charm.’

‘If I remember correctly, he promised to shut his head in the oven if you asked him that one more time.’ Replied Jim, grinning at the memory. ‘By the way, he’s given me strict instructions to hide all the photo albums, so you don’t embarrass him in front of Dylan again by showing his baby pictures.’

‘I’m his father, it’s my job to embarrass him!’ Freddie finally fixed his collar and leaned back in Jim’s arms, watching them both through the glass.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. This was his own son after all, and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen Khaleel in a long time. They spoke nearly every day on the phone and on weekends, Phoebe would help Jim set up that Zoom thing on the computer so they could video chat and see the grandchildren. But Freddie could feel his stomach twisting uncomfortably, as if he was about to ride the world’s tallest rollercoaster.

Then he remembered the tiny square shaped box in his trouser pocket.

He told himself over and over that it was a bad idea. He and Jim were already married, perhaps not legally but definitely spiritually. They had been living like man and wife for over thirty years now; did they really need a piece of paper to prove their commitment to one another?

But there was so much more to it than that, as Khaleel had pointed out when Freddie expressed his doubts over him marrying Dylan; everything from finances, to citizenships, to just being able to call the person you loved your spouse as any heterosexual couple would. And the more Freddie considered it, the less gratuitous the idea of gay marriage became to his old-fashioned brain.

Freddie had always been a spontaneous man. He did things on impulse, willing to go to whatever lengths necessary to get what he wanted, until he quickly grew bored and moved on to the next exciting venture. But this was different. He had been stewing over the idea for months now, seeking the advice of just about everybody he knew (the response from his friends was unanimous – ‘marry him!’ - with Brian adding, ‘it’s about bloody time!’ for good measure), until he finally gathered the courage to visit Cartier’s and, with Mary’s help, picked out a beautiful gold lace wedding band studded with diamonds.

It was Mary who suggested he propose on Christmas Day. Freddie could understand the romance of it, but there was still one nagging fear that kept him from dropping to his knee then and there in the bedroom.

What if Jim said no?

Tying the knot was something they had discussed before, in passing. Before it was legalised, it was a fun “what if” scenario they would play around with when they were drunk or cuddling together in bed at night, and Freddie had always been under the impression that he and Jim were of the same mind when it came to the prospect of marriage. Jim had always maintained that he was content with his lot, that he knew he loved Freddie and didn’t need to prove it with a certificate or a ceremony.

Freddie didn’t want to risk ruining his own Christmas by proposing and being swiftly rejected.

Jim, ever the observant fellow he was, picked up on Freddie’s anxiety and softly inquired, ‘are you alright, pet?’

It was now or never. Freddie knew that if he didn’t bite the bullet and just ask, he would keep beating round the bush until he went off the idea altogether. He turned around in Jim’s arms, staring intently into the gentle brown eyes he was still so desperately in love with. He opened his mouth to pop the question, but his tongue had other ideas.

‘Do you love me?’

He cursed himself internally, but Jim leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, somewhat soothing his rapidly beating heart.

‘Yes, I love you.’ His husband replied as he always did. ‘I’ll always love you, Freddie. Until the day I die, and in any life that might come afterwards.’

These words cemented Freddie’s decision.

Without fully processing what he was doing, he sank down to one knee, hands trembling as he reached inside the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms and pulled out the little square box. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Jim’s face, lest he notice even a hint of apprehension or disappointment; he opened the box, shaking so hard he was certain he would drop it, revealing the gleaming gold band inside.

He opened his mouth to say those four words, but it was so dry, nothing came out. He knelt there, opening and shutting his mouth like a fucking fish, while Jim stood above him, red in the face, scarcely able to believe what was happening. After what had to have been a full minute of horrifically awkward silence, Freddie decided that this had indeed been a bad idea and began mumbling an apology as he went to stuff the stupid box back into his pocket out of sight.

‘Yes.’

Freddie froze in place, unsure if he had heard correctly. He dared to look up at Jim, whose expression was unreadable, yet Freddie could see there was a sparkle in his eye that seemed to speak louder than any words could.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’ Jim affirmed, sounding like he was about to cry, and suddenly he was also on his knees, amidst creaking bones, clutching both of Freddie’s hands. ‘Yes, yes, the answer is fucking yes.’

Freddie’s eyes filled up with tears so quickly, he didn’t have time to catch them before they fell. His hands tightened around Jim’s desperately, the box falling to the floor. ‘Do you mean it? You promise you want to marry me?’

‘Of course, you idiot!’ Jim barked out a laugh, his own tear tracks glistening beneath the light. ‘I just…fuck, Freddie, where’s this come from? I thought you weren’t interested in getting married. You always said you didn’t see the point.’

‘I know.’ Freddie might have been embarrassed by how his voice quivered when he spoke, were his heart not literally sitting in his mouth. ‘I know I did, darling, and I meant it at the time. But these past few months I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my mind. Watching Kenny so happy with Dylan, being able to call him his husband and have it mean something in the eyes of the law…I want that for us, Jim. I know we don’t have anything to prove but I want to marry you properly. I want us to have the campest, most outrageous wedding this world has ever seen, with all our family and friends watching. I want the boys to argue over who gets to walk me down the aisle. I want Seamus to be our ringbearer and little Kash to be our flower girl. I want to stand at the altar and say my vows, pledge my love to you in front of everybody. I want us to jet off for our honeymoon and spend two weeks doing nothing but drinking and fucking-’

‘Freddie!’ Jim exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

‘-I want all the things that I never thought were possible for people like me, Jim.’ Freddie paused, dropping his gaze to the floor. He stared at the old wedding band on his finger, heart swelling in his chest when he remembered how Jim had gifted it to him on the eve of his fortieth birthday. It was one of the most poignant moments of his life, realising that he was ready to commit to someone, to love and honour, in sickness and in health. Something that both exhilarated and terrified him at the same time.

Thirty-five years later, the ring remained on. Call him crazy, but he was aiming for thirty-five more.

He remembered the box and quickly picked it up from the floor, carefully pulling out the precious circle of gold and slipping it onto the ring finger on Jim’s left hand. A perfect fit.

‘I pinched your old ring the morning Mary and I went to the jewellers to make sure I got the right size.’ Freddie confessed. ‘I apologise for the deception, darling; I didn’t know you would panic so much when you realised it was missing.’

‘And here I was thinking I’d lost it and I would be sleeping on the couch for the rest of my life.’ Jim looked down at the new ring adorning his finger, holding his hand up to the light so the diamonds glittered like the sun reflecting off ocean waves. ‘It’s gorgeous, Freddie. Thank you.’

‘Only the best for my husband.’ Freddie took Jim’s hands again, unable to keep himself from extending his thumb out to gently stroke the ring. ‘God, I can’t wait to marry you.’

Before their lips could meet again, they heard Phoebe shout from downstairs.

‘They’re here!’

What followed was a few minutes of fumbling, nervous giggles as they wiped away tears and clumsily rose to their feet.

‘Just a pair of old queens, aren’t we?’ Freddie smoothed back his hair and checked the mirror again, hoping his red-rimmed eyes weren’t too evident. ‘How do I look?’

‘Like you’ve either been crying or shagging.’ Jim repeated his previous action of winding his arms around his husband’s waist, his embrace tighter than before. ‘Though I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure there will be plenty more tears when we break the news to Kenny. What do you think he’ll say?’

‘Same as Brian – it’s about bloody time!’

They kissed once more for luck, before joining their hands and heading for the bedroom door.

Very soon, Garden Lodge would be alive with the sound of music and clinking glasses, laughter as Freddie inevitably brought out the photo albums Jim had believed were well hidden, and joyous applause as Khaleel demonstrated the latest routine he had choreographed for his ballet students. Seamus would bounce on Dylan’s knee and play with the cats by the hearth until his eyes grew heavy and he curled up on the sofa to spend the rest of the evening schooling Phoebe in Minecraft. And little Kashmira would blink up at her grandparents with large, curious eyes, occasionally treating them to a smile or even a laugh if she was in a good mood.

They would break the news of their engagement over dinner, Freddie decided, as they made the way down the stairs to greet their family at the door. His thumb reached out to gently stroke the ring on Jim’s finger again. Truly, this would be a Christmas like no other.

Merry Christmas, everyone 💜

#jimercury #jimcury #jimercury fanfiction #jimercury advent calendar 2021 #kid au #my writing #she's a killer queue

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 20)

Figgy Pudding 🍮

Freddie was certain that this was the proudest achievement of his life.

Forget Bohemian Rhapsody. This was his jewel in the crown, his magnum opus, his pièce de resistance. To someone of lesser intelligence, it might have just looked like a misshapen, slightly overcooked Christmas pudding – but no, it was so much more than that. This was living proof that he wasn’t completely useless in the kitchen, as Joe fucking Fanelli had absurdly implied. This is what he would be remembered by. Not his music or his stage theatrics, but this single festive dessert; dried fruits baked into a sweet spongey bread and topped with brandy sauce. A delicacy. It was poetry in cake.

He was a mess, flour and sugar adoring his apron, brown batter smeared across his face like war paint. But it was all worth it.

He couldn’t wait to show Jim. He couldn’t wait to see the look of utter surprise on the Irishman’s face when he saw this remarkable creation. Jim would surely be so taken back by his husband’s accomplishment, he would sweep him off his feet right then and there and take him upstairs to bed to make sweet and passionate love. The very thought made Freddie weak in the knees.

After ensuring that the pudding was perfectly centred in the middle of the counter, Freddie brushed his hands against his apron and rushed off to find Jim, failing to notice several pairs of eyes glinting from beneath the kitchen table.

‘Something smells good.’ Jim chuckled, treading carefully as Freddie guided him towards the kitchen, covering his eyes with both hands. ‘And I didn’t hear the smoke alarm go off once. Joe owes me a fiver.’

‘Forget that Negative Nelly.’ Freddie said as they neared the kitchen door. ‘I haven’t tasted it yet, but I can assure you, this will be the most delicious figgy pudding you’ve ever eaten in your life.’ He reached around his husband to push down the door handle, before throwing his hands away from Jim’s eyes. ‘Behold!’

The moment the word left his mouth, Freddie caught sight of the counter and felt all the blood drain out of his face. What had once been the beautiful Christmas pudding he had put all his blood, sweat and tears into for the last six hours was now little more than a pile of crumbs; and five hungry cats were chomping away on the remains, munching through the fruit filling, and licking brandy sauce from their whiskers. There was a long, agonising silence, before Freddie let out a noise that sounded like a wounded animal.

‘My cake!’ he cried, his outburst causing the cats to scatter. ‘My perfect, precious cake – ruined!’

He immediately rounded upon the five offenders, who were now congregated on the kitchen floor, wondering what the fuss was about. ‘You are all very bad cats! Daddy worked very hard on that pudding, and you had no business eating it for yourselves!’

Miko purred loudly at him, her nose and mouth covered in white brandy sauce.

‘Don’t you make that face at me, young lady!’ Freddie thundered. ‘I have half a mind to smack your bottom for being such a naughty girl!’

The tortoiseshell stopped purring immediately and she let out a distressed meow, running to hide behind Jim, her sticky face nuzzling his leg as if asking him to protect her.

‘Now, now, love.’ Said Jim, as he bent down to scoop his favourite daughter into his arms. ‘It’s not their fault that your pudding was so delicious. They couldn’t resist, poor things.’ He pressed a gentle kiss on Miko’s head. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let Papa smack your bottom.’

Miko mewed happily, snuggling into Jim’s chest.

‘If any of them are sick, you’re going to be the one cleaning it up.’ Freddie grumbled, grabbing a tea towel, and attempting to wipe the mess off Delilah’s face. ‘Well, I hope you’re all satisfied, darlings; you’ve ruined Christmas!’

The cats seemed completely unfazed by this statement. Goliath licked the rest of the crumbs off his paws. Romeo was grooming Lily, trying to get every last spot of sauce out of her fur. Delilah made a noise that sounded strikingly similar to a belch. Miko yawned, ready for a nap now that she had a full belly.

Jim glanced at the counter and spied a small lump of cake that had been seemingly untouched by their wayward felines; he quickly grabbed it with his free hand and, after inspecting it for any stray cat hairs, popped it into his mouth. His brows immediately raised to his hairline.

‘Wow. This is fucking incredible.’

Freddie stopped scowling long enough to look over at his husband, who was sucking the sugar off his fingers thoughtfully. ‘You really think so?’

‘You were right, this is delicious. I dare say it’s better than my mum used to make – though don’t go telling her I said that.’ Jim gently set Miko onto the floor and went to wind his arms around Freddie’s slender waist, pulling him close. ‘Did you really make that all by yourself?’

‘Well, Phoebe helped me a bit with the oven.’ Freddie replied, recalling how frustrating it had been twisting all those knobs, trying to figure out which one turned the damn thing on. ‘But the rest was all me. I was so looking forward to presenting it after dinner tomorrow. Joe is never going to let me live this down.’

‘Joe doesn’t have to find out. We’ll make another one.’

‘What?’ Freddie stared up at Jim as if he’d lost his mind. ‘Darling, it’s almost nine o’clock. The cake needs to be boiled for six hours!’

‘Then we better get a move on!’ Jim chimed, pecking Freddie on the nose. ‘Right, I’ll get the children out of the way while you gather all the ingredients together. This is my first-time making pudding, so go easy on me.’

Freddie felt his heart do a flip as he watched Jim shepherd the cats out of the kitchen, his devastation almost immediately replaced with a new sense of hope. He rushed to the counter to begin cleaning up the mess, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of pulling an all-nighter to bake with his wonderful man.

Perhaps Christmas wasn’t ruined after all.

#jimercury #jimcury #jimercury fanfiction #jimercury advent calendar 2021 #my writing #she's a killer queue

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 4)

The Weather Outside is Frightful ❄️

The sound of chattering teeth roused Freddie from his light slumber, and he blinked his eyes open, just able to make out the lump in the blankets beside him, shivering from the cold.

‘Oh, you poor thing.’ He whispered groggily, shuffling up to Jim’s side and wrapping his arms around him, pressing their bodies together to give his husband some much needed heat. ‘You’re cold as ice, darling. Here, let me warm you up.’

Jim turned over almost instantly, nestling his face into the crook of Freddie’s neck as he fought to gain control of his shaking. Between the two of them, Freddie was far less tolerant of the cold, given his upbringing in sunny Zanzibar; but on nights like this, with a blizzard raging outside and the heating on the blink, even his hot Irish blood wasn’t enough to shield Jim from the unrelenting chill of the bedroom.

‘That’s the last time I go looking for Goliath in the fucking snow.’ Jim laughed, though it was accompanied by a shudder, and he was certain he heard all the bones in his body audibly rattle. ‘Next time that little bugger can find his own way home.’

Freddie couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a smile. When Goliath had failed to show up during their nightly routine of herding the cats back into the house, Jim had refused to turn in until he’d found the little runaway. After nearly two hours of searching the garden and calling for him down the street, he had finally discovered the little black cat trembling beneath a parked car; a saucer of warm milk and a few cuddles later, poor Goliath was back to his old self again and was now safely snuggled in his basket with Delilah and Miko.

Such selflessness wasn’t wasted on someone like Freddie. Jim’s unconditional love and devotion to his cats, the little hairy beings he considered his children, was one of the many reasons he had fallen so hard for the man.

‘My kind, wonderful, generous man.’ Freddie cooed, rubbing both of Jim’s freezing hands between his own. He brought them up to his mouth and blew hot air against the cold skin until the colour returned to them. ‘Our babies are so lucky to have a daddy like you. Especially Goliath, our little vagabond.’

The snow swept past the window like thousands of tiny white flies. The wind whistled against the rooftops, making every inch of the house creak. But inside, the two men lay huddled together beneath layers of soft blankets, safe from the harsh and unforgiving winter’s night. Eventually, Jim’s shivering subsided and soon after, Freddie heard the sound of quiet snoring.

‘Goodnight, my love.’ He whispered, gently kissing Jim’s forehead as the sound of the wailing wind from outside finally began to die down.

#jimercury #jimcury #jimercury fanfiction #jimercury advent calendar 2021 #my writing #she's a killer queue

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 7)

I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus 🎅🏻

The older he got, the more the whole concept of Santa Claus became a tad disturbing to Khaleel.

His parents had been tenacious with their lectures about stranger danger since he was a toddler; answering the door by himself or talking to anyone he didn’t know was strictly off limits, and if a strange man ever came up to him and tried to coax him into the back of a car with the promise of sweets or gifts, he wasn’t to go with them under any circumstance. But nobody seemed to have an issue with a bearded man in a red suit breaking into houses once a year to leave presents under your tree.

For an inquisitive eight-year-old, who was too bright for his own good, it was quite the conundrum.

The very existence of Santa was still something widely debated amongst his peers, and Khaleel was definitely leaning more towards the sceptic side of the belief spectrum. Many of his classmates claimed to have seen old Saint Nick for themselves, in the flesh, but Khaleel firmly believed it wasn’t a coincidence that they all had vastly different recollections of what he had looked like. Jimmy Sutcliffe, for example, claimed he was thin as a rail and sounded strikingly similar to his uncle Henry. Eyewitness accounts were far from reliable in this case. Which is why Khaleel had taken it upon himself to finally put the speculation to rest by investigating the credibility of Santa himself.

Khaleel was usually at his most active on Christmas Eve, bouncing around the place like a rubber ball and evading his bedtime until he literally had to be carried upstairs by Jim. But tonight, he was compliant, scampering up the stairs the moment he was asked and under his sheets with his teeth brushed by nine-thirty. He calmly listened to his bedtime story, accepted the goodnight kiss from Jim (and three goodnight kisses from Freddie,) before snuggling down with Toby the Triceratops and feigning sleep until the light on the landing went out and the house fell silent.

According to the many Christmas stories he had read over the years, Santa wouldn’t be making an appearance until midnight. The next three hours were touch-and-go as he did just about everything he could think of to stop himself from falling asleep; fortunately, by the time he had read his way through half of his Marvel comic collection and did a few discreet jumping jacks, the hands on his Danger Mouse alarm clock were nearing twelve and he quickly sprang into action. Armed with his foam cricket bat (in case Santa didn’t appreciate being confronted and turned hostile), he opened his door as quietly as he could and slowly tiptoed towards the stairs.

He moved slowly, carefully slipping past Romeo who was having a snooze on one of the steps, until he made it to the hallway and crept towards the lounge. Light was seeping out through a crack in the door and as he neared, Khaleel could hear his Baba’s voice, though his exact words were hard to make out.

‘Mr Claus! Not in here! What would my husband say?’

So, Santa did exist. Khaleel felt his stomach twist uncomfortably and he swallowed down the lump that was quickly growing in his throat. He inched his way closer to the door, just able to make out a low, gruff voice mumbling words that were unintelligible; as he peered through the gap, he could see a man dressed in red sitting on the couch, Freddie propped up on his lap like an excited child waiting for a present.

‘Alright, Santa. Just one little kiss. So long as you promise to put me at the top of the nice list!’

What happened next made Khaleel’s blood go cold. His Baba leaned down and pressed his lips against the snowy white beard, arms curling around Santa’s neck as he kissed him in a way Khaleel had only ever seen him kiss Daddy. Rage overtook the young boy; gripping the cricket bat tighter in his hands, he stormed into the room and before anyone could react, brought the spine of the bat down hard across Saint Nick’s skull.

‘Jesus fuck!’ Santa screamed and immediately clutched his head, his exclamation startling Freddie so much, he tumbled off his lap and right onto the floor. Khaleel went to swing again, but at this point Santa had turned around and quickly ducked as the bat came sailing down, narrowly missing his noggin. ‘Khaleel, what are you doing?!’

It was only when he heard a familiar Irish accent that Khaleel paused his assault, bat frozen in mid-air. ‘Dad?’

‘That was very naughty, Khaleel!’ Freddie thundered, picking himself up and rubbing his bottom from where he had bumped it on the floor. ‘What have we told you about being rough with your toys? Apologise to your father right now!’

Khaleel immediately dropped the bat, his eyes beginning to sting with tears as he ran over to Jim and clambered onto his lap, hugging him tightly around his neck. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t realise it was you. I…I thought you were Father Christmas.’

There was a moment of silence, as Freddie and Jim shared a confused look before Jim pulled off his fake beard and dropped it onto the armrest. ‘You thought I was Father Christmas? Why would you hit poor old Santa? He’s a very nice bloke!’

‘Because I thought he was kissing Baba, and no one’s allowed to kiss Baba like that but you.’ Khaleel’s cheeks burned with shame, and he buried his face into Jim’s front. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dad. I’m really, really sorry.’

Jim could see Freddie’s mouth twitching in an effort not to laugh, and he shot him a look of disapproval, though he found himself biting the inside of his own cheek rather desperately as well. ‘You know violence isn’t the answer, Bijou. If it had been Father Christmas, you should have confronted him peacefully instead of beating his brains out.’

‘Though, I do appreciate you defending your father’s honour like that.’ Freddie leaned down and gently kissed the child’s head. ‘Anyway, time to get back to bed. Santa doesn’t visit boys and girls who aren’t asleep on Christmas Eve.’

Khaleel nodded, deciding against pointing out that it was technically Christmas Day now. ‘Do you think he’ll still leave me a present, even though I hit Daddy with a bat?’

‘Given that you’ve been such a good boy this year, I’m sure he can overlook this one little blip.’ Jim reassured him, glaring over at Freddie when his husband snickered. ‘Now, come on, love. Off to bed with you.’

Khaleel smiled as Jim placed a soft kiss against his cheek and he slid off his father’s lap to collect his bat and make his way to the door. His endless questions about the existence of Santa Claus were still poking away at his brain but he decided he’d be pushing his luck trying to quiz his parents after such an outburst. Perhaps he’d leave it another year; he saw how much effort his parents put into making Christmas a magical experience for him, and the last thing he wanted to do was put a spanner in the works by shattering the illusion. He’d be their innocent baby boy, who still believed in jolly elves and flying reindeer, a while longer.

Khaleel’s hand paused before it reached the door handle and he suddenly frowned in thought. ‘Hey, Dad? Why are you dressed as Santa Claus in the first place?’

Jim’s cheeks went as red as the suit he was wearing.

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 2)

Wreck the Halls 💥

‘I think you’ve made your point, Phoebe!’ Joe called from the bottom of the ladder, the damn thing shaking haphazardly as the larger man clambered his way up it with an armful of Christmas lights. ‘Do we really need an army of elves up there as well as Santa’s reindeer? It’s getting awfully crowded.’

‘Jo Mundy has reindeer and two rows of gingerbread men!’ Phoebe called over his shoulder, as he began to clip the lights into place. ‘Mrs Patterson at number fifteen is already complimenting the Nativity scene she’s put on her lawn. I’m not going to be outdone again this year!’

Joe sighed, turning to Freddie and Jim who were sitting at the garden table nearby, sipping hot chocolate. ‘He’s lost his fucking marbles.’

‘I think it’s wonderful that Phoebe’s showing some Christmas spirit.’ Freddie held up his mug to his assistant like a knight toasting his king. ‘And you have to admit Joe, the decorations are glorious, if a little excessive.’

Joe took a moment to survey the state of the house. “Glorious” wasn’t really the word that sprung to mind when he took in the man-sized polar bears sprinkled across the lawn, the candy canes hanging from the drainpipe, and the giant inflatable Santa tied to the chimney, looking like Godzilla before he unleashed his wrath on the unsuspecting citizens of Tokyo. No, “glorious” really wasn’t what he would call it. “Excessive,” “unnecessary,” and “a bloody eyesore,” were more along the lines of what Joe was thinking.

‘Freddie’s only encouraging it because he wants to stick it to Jo Mundy as much as Phoebe does.’ Jim remarked as he wiped whipped cream off his moustache. ‘He’s convinced that the reason Oscar left us was because he preferred her Christmas decorations over ours.’

‘And I stand by my theory!’ Freddie huffed. ‘You might not be able to tell by his appearance, but Oscar has very exquisite taste.’

‘Finished!’ Phoebe declared as he clipped on the last light, sitting back on the rooftop to catch his breath. ‘Alright, Jim! Flip the switch! Prepare to be amazed!’

Jim sighed and pushed back his chair, going to the little box that had been hidden amongst the giant bauble ornaments. After fiddling about for a few moments, he found the switch and flipped it on. The world was instantly bathed in a bright, glowing light, so powerful you would have thought the entire surrounding area had been struck by an atomic bomb. Joe was certain that he had gone blind; but when he opened his eyes and was just able to make out Phoebe standing on the rooftop in triumph, he decided he could rule out any permanent damage to his retinas.

‘Oh, Phoebe, it’s beautiful!’ Freddie yelled; face buried in one arm. ‘Though I do wonder if you’ve taken into consideration the electricity bill!’

‘Or what the council will have to say.’ Jim grumbled from behind his hands.

‘To hell with the council!’ Phoebe jeered, having truly gone mad with power. ‘Wait until Jo Mundy gets a load of this! We’ll be the talk of the town!’

No sooner had he said these words, the lights suddenly began to flicker, as if struggling to stay alive, before extinguishing altogether. Jim frowned, flicking the switch on and off to no avail. Before any of them could speak, the lights inside the house suddenly went off as well.

Shortly after, the houses surrounding them also went dark, until it seemed like the world had been swallowed by a giant black hole.

‘You’re right, Pheebs.’ Joe said dryly. ‘We’re definitely going to be the talk of the town.’

‘I think this is rather romantic.’ Jim turned his stick slightly to toast the other side of his marshmallow, careful not to let the flame from the little tea candle burn it. ‘Electricity is very overrated. Candlelight really is the way to go.’

‘My thoughts exactly, darling.’ Freddie replied, lifting his own stick above the flame until his marshmallow turned a golden brown. ‘I’m not sure the rest of Kensington would agree with you though.’

Thanks to Phoebe’s over enthusiasm with the Christmas lights, the four of them – as well as the majority of the street - were now sitting in complete darkness, wrapped in woolly blankets to fight off the cold and surrounded by candles of all shapes and sizes. Out of context, it looked like they were performing some sort of weird séance. As far as Phoebe was concerned, that would be a far less embarrassing explanation as to how things had ended up this way.

‘I think it’s a lot of fuss over nothing.’ He shoved two marshmallows into his mouth at once, chewing angrily. ‘It’s just one little city-wide power outage. It’ll be fixed by Christmas.’

‘It better be.’ Joe scoffed. ‘Otherwise, we’ll be having cold turkey sandwiches for Christmas lunch. If we’re not crucified by an angry mob before then, that is.’

#jimercury #jimcury #jimercury fanfiction #Jimercury advent calendar 2021 #my writing #she’s a killer queue

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 11)

Baby, It’s Cold Outside 🐾

Miko let out another loud meow as she paced up and down the nearly empty street, paws sinking further and further into the snow that had covered the pavement while she looked desperately around for any sign of Garden Lodge.

She knew it was her own fault that she was in this predicament; she had been so distracted trying to catch that silly mouse, she completely lost track of where she was going, and by the time she had lost the damn thing she realised she had no idea where she was. The houses were all different. The smells were unfamiliar. The other cats were hostile and chased her away when she got too close.

As she navigated her way through the darkened streets, she sniffed around desperately, trying to find a familiar scent that might lead her back home. She followed a few people up and down the road, hoping they might notice and take her in out of the cold until they located her owners. She sat and meowed until she was hoarse, calling for her dads to come and find her. But nothing worked. She couldn’t find a single scent that she recognised. The humans were far too preoccupied trying to escape the terrible weather to pay attention to the little tortoiseshell scurrying after them.

Freddie and Jim didn’t come.

By midnight, the streets were completely empty. The only noise to be heard was the sound of the wind viciously blowing about the rapidly falling snow. As the storm grew worse, Miko crept under a parked car for shelter, curling into herself in a futile attempt to keep warm. She thought about home, her brothers and sisters who were probably laying in front of the fireplace or snuggled in the arms of their beloved parents. She thought about Freddie’s gentle voice and Jim’s strong, comfortable arms that always made her feel safe, as if nothing in the world could ever hurt her.

She might not ever feel those arms again.

Miko had liked the snow at first. She and Delilah had spent hours bouncing around in it, seeing who could leave the deepest pawprints or catch the most snowflakes on their whiskers. It made it easier for her to see her prey as well, which was why she had managed to chase that damnable mouse as far as she did. But now, she’d be glad if she never saw the bloody stuff again; it was cold against her feet, clung to her fur in wet clumps, and seemed to make humans so miserable they wouldn’t even acknowledge her.

If cats could cry, Miko would have flooded the street. She curled up tighter, trembling from head to tail, praying that her daddies had noticed her absence and would come looking for her soon.

‘Where is she?’ Freddie was close to tears, covering his mouth with his gloved hand to stifle a sob as he looked desperately up and down the darkened street. ‘Oh God, Jim, she’s never been out past midnight before. What if she’s lost? What if a car hit her? What if-?’

‘Darling.’ Jim cut his husband off, clasping Freddie by the shoulders so the smaller man looked at him. ‘We’re going to find her, I promise. She’s probably just wandered too far and can’t find her way back in the snow. She’s a smart girl; she’ll have found somewhere safe and warm to take shelter until she’s found.’

Freddie’s eyes were still glistening with unshed tears, but Jim’s words were enough to soothe his racing heart. He buried his face against Jim’s shoulder and had a little cry while Jim held him in his arms, gently swaying them both back and forth. After a few moments, Freddie pulled himself together and reached up to wipe his face.

‘Come on,’ Jim murmured, ‘let’s get in the car and bring her home.’

The snow was so thick they had to trail along at a snail’s pace. Freddie stuck his head out of the window, calling for her, not caring if he woke the whole of Kensington with his noise. They scanned every street corner for any sign of a little tortoiseshell cat, stopped passers-by to ask if they’d seen her (and begrudgingly signed a few autographs instead). An hour into their search and Freddie’s eyes were brimming with tears again, blurring all his surroundings. Jim, on the verge of crying himself, decided enough was enough. He parked the Volvo against the curb and grabbed the torch he’d stashed in the glove compartment.

The air had grown colder since they departed from Garden Lodge, but he refused to be deterred as he stepped out onto the pavement and flicked the torch on to begin searching through every nook and cranny. He was aware of how ridiculous he must look – a grown man clambering through the snow, making pspspsps noises – but he honestly didn’t care. Freddie jumped out of the car after him, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck as his teeth chattered audibly. The thought of poor little Miko being all alone in such freezing weather was simply devastating to him.

‘Miko?’ Jim called out softly, coming to a row of parked cars and shining the torch around the wheels. ‘Oh, Miko, pet. Where are you?’

He heard Freddie sniffle from behind him, but just as he was turning around to go and comfort his husband, a soft meow came from nearby and Jim turned around to see a familiar tortoiseshell poking her head out from beneath a large Range Rover, dripping wet and shaking uncontrollably. In an instant, she ran to him, crying loudly.

‘She’s here!’ Jim cried out, almost bursting into tears as he bent down to scoop up the little cat and held her close to his chest, pulling the zip of his coat down so she could snuggle beneath it for warmth. ‘Oh, you poor little mite. It’s alright, sweetheart. Your daddies are here now.’

Freddie was by his side in a flash, checking their daughter over, fussing like the mother hen he was. ‘You naughty girl, Miko! Don’t you ever scare us like that again! You’re in big trouble, young lady, do you hear me?’

His response was a loud purr, as Miko nuzzled further into Jim’s chest, relieved to be reunited with her family at last.

She decided she was never going out alone in the snow again.

#jimercury #jimcury #jimercury fanfiction #jimercury advent calendar 2021 #my writing #she's a killer queue

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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That’s a Wrap!

I want to say a big thank you to everyone who helped and motivated me with my Advent Calendar. There’s no way I could have completed it without all the support I received.

A extra big thanks to:

@just-a-poor-boy-queen @a-froger-epic @freddie-mercury-rising @stormtrooper-in-clogs @rubadubababyoil and @pumpkinlilyao3 for helping me come up with prompts and get around my writer’s block.

I hope you all have an amazing new year 💜

#queen #freddie mercury #jimercury #jimercury advent calendar 2021

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 5)

Not a Creature Was Stirring 🐁

‘I know you’re around here somewhere.’ Jim called out to the otherwise empty room. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are.’

To an oblivious bystander, it might have looked as though Jim Hutton had well and truly lost his mind. He was standing in the middle of the lounge, the fishing net he used for the koi pool brandished in both hands as if it were a sword as he surveyed the area like a hawk, looking out for the slightest hint of movement.

It had all started when Freddie came rushing into the conservatory, announcing that they had a “little visitor” in the pantry and would Jim please show their new whiskered friend the door before it left droppings all over their brand-new carpet. What followed was a lot of running around, cursing and the shuffling of furniture, as the couple all but re-arranged the entire house to catch the tiny intruder, until they finally managed to corner it in the lounge.

Two hours later, Freddie decided he’d had enough and retired upstairs to bed, but Jim wasn’t so easily defeated. He vowed that he wouldn’t rest until the little blighter was found and that’s why he was still prowling around at three in the morning, looking under every table and chair in search of something with two large ears and a tail.

Joe had suggested simply laying a few traps out and calling it a night, but Freddie wouldn’t hear of it; he couldn’t abide any sort of cruelty to animals and thought there was nothing justifiable about sentencing a tiny, innocent mouse to death purely for following its nature. And when Jim thought about it, he agreed wholeheartedly. So, he settled for the good old catch-and-release. A humane method, albeit time consuming.

Something suddenly shot out from beneath the television set and made a beeline for the couch. Jim swiped the net in its direction, missing by a hair and he pushed the sofa forward before the little devil could get comfortable in its hiding place. It sprang out again faster than the speed of light, scurrying to take cover under the end table that held the record player; before it could reach its destination, Jim brought the net down hard, successfully trapping it.

‘Got you!’ He chuckled in triumph, scooping up the struggling creature and quickly depositing it into an old china jug Phoebe had leant him to serve as a holding cell. ‘It’s the garden for you, Speedy Gonzales.’

He heard footsteps on the stairs as he made his way down the hall and Freddie appeared, running his fingers through his unkept hair, and yawning widely.

‘From the noise you’ve been making, I take it you’ve caught our little friend?’ He mumbled sleepily, as he followed his husband to the conservatory. ‘You didn’t hurt him, did you?’

‘He’s fine.’ Jim replied, glancing down into the jug to see the mouse staring up at him with wide, oil drop eyes. ‘We’ll put him outside and he’ll be on his merry little way in no-’

He paused when he got to the conservatory door and realised the world outside had turned completely white. The snow was falling so hard, you couldn’t see a hand in front of you and Jim wouldn’t dream of sending a grown man out into a blizzard like that, let alone a mouse no bigger than his thumb.

Freddie appeared to share his sentiment, looking at Jim with heartbroken eyes. ‘Oh, darling…we can’t.’

Jim could almost hear his poor father turning in his grave – what’s wrong with you, you eejit? It’s a bloody mouse! – but the animal lover within him outweighed his concerns over his masculinity. He handed the jug over to Freddie and excused himself to have a fumble around the kitchen to find somewhere for the little fellow to reside until the worst of the storm was over. He returned with an old, battered biscuit tin that hadn’t been used in years, as well as some cotton from his workshop.

‘We’ll make a nice little bed for him.’ Jim said, as he aligned the cotton at the bottom of the tin. ‘Keep him in the garage until morning and then let him out once the weather’s picked up.’

Freddie’s eyes were glittering and for a moment Jim was worried he was going to burst into tears. Before he could say anything, Freddie had thrown his arms around his neck and pulled him into a bone-breaking hug; despite his smaller stature, Freddie’s hidden strength always managed to take Jim by surprise.

‘You’re nothing but a big teddy bear, you know that?’ Freddie whispered into his ear, gently placing a kiss at his temple as he gave him a little squeeze. ‘My lovely, cuddly teddy bear.’

Jim pretended to growl and rubbed his stubbled cheek against his husband’s neck, making him shriek and squirm. Once the pair had stopped giggling like children, Jim carefully relocated the mouse into the biscuit tin and began carrying it towards the garage, unable to keep a smile off his face as the little bugger squeaked and wriggled its nose.

‘You’re lucky our Romeo wasn’t on the prowl tonight. Tell you what – if you promise to keep out of our pantry this winter, there might just be a nice fat slice of brie waiting for you on the doorstep on Christmas Eve. Deal?’

The mouse squeaked again, in a way that Jim could have sworn conveyed complete and utter joy.

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar 2021 Masterlist 🎄

Day 1 - ’Tis the Season

Day 2 - Wreck the Halls

Day 3 - Here comes Santa Claus

Day 4 - The Weather Outside is Frightful

Day 5 - Not a Creature Was Stirring

Day 6 - ’O Christmas Tree

Day 7 - I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus

Day 8 - Don We Now Our Gay Apparel

Day 9 - Three French Hens

Day 10 - Glad Tidings We Bring

Day 11 - Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Day 12 - Away in a Manger

Day 13 - Santa Baby

Day 14 - All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

Day 15 - Silent Night (Well, Not Quite…)

Day 16 - Three Not So Wise Men

Day 17 - God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

Day 18 - A Catmas Carol

Day 19 - Mistletoe and Wine

Day 20 - Figgy Pudding

Day 21 - Naughty or Nice

Day 22 - Sleigh Ride

Day 23 - Romeo the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Day 24 - Chestnuts Roasting on An Open Fire

Day 25 - And To All A Good Night

#jimercury #jimercury fanfiction #jimercury advent calendar 2021 #masterlist

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 24)

Chestnuts Roasting on An Open Fire 🔥

Warning: Joe drops lots of F bombs

As far as Freddie was concerned, this entire mess was Joe’s fault.

It could be argued that Delilah was technically the catalyst for the unfortunate chain of events that had occurred during Christmas lunch; she was, after all, the one who ran under Joe’s feet just as he entered the dining room with the turkey, causing him to lose his balance and drop the steaming dish right onto the dining room floor. But Freddie was never one to lay the blame on his fluffy four-legged babies, and instead gave Joe a heated lecture about watching where he was going.

Joe’s rebuttal involved a spoonful of cranberry sauce and Freddie’s forehead.

‘Cut it out, you two.’ Jim chastised, as Phoebe wedged himself between the squabbling pair to keep them from killing each other. ‘We’ll just have to get another turkey.’

‘Good luck with that.’ Peter Straker grunted, taking a sip of wine. ‘It’s Christmas Day, the shops will be cleared out.’

‘We could always split my nut roast.’ Suggested Brian, earning a glare from all the omnivores at the table.

In the end, Joe volunteered to go out on a turkey hunt, which was probably for the best, given that he still seemed hell bent on caving Freddie’s head in with his spatula for his remarks. Not wanting the rest of the meal to go to waste, everyone spent the next few hours chowing down on the side dishes (Brian smugly tucking into his nut roast) until the front door to the house swung open and Joe walked in, noticeably dishevelled, a turkey shoved under his arm.

A very alive turkey.

‘Liza!’ Freddie screamed, almost dropping his knife and fork. ‘What the bloody fuck is that?!’

‘It’s a turkey, Freddie.’ Joe replied, as if the man was an idiot. ‘Have you never seen one before?’

‘Where on earth did you get a live turkey?’ Asked Mary, watching as the hideous looking bird strutted about the dining room, checking out its new surroundings. ‘There isn’t a farm out here for miles.’

‘A very nice man down the road happens to breed the buggers. He gave me this one for half price because the females are scrawnier.’

‘I’ll say!’ Grumbled Roger. ‘There’s no meat on her at all! How the hell is she going to feed nine of us?’

‘Wait a minute – please don’t tell me you’re planning to kill her.’ Brian looked horrified.

Joe frowned. ‘Well, yes. What else are we going to do with her?’

‘-and that’s why I concur that it’s morally unethical to kill the turkey!’

Freddie’s declaration made half the table groan, while the other half nodded in agreement.

‘So, that’s four for killing the turkey and five against killing the turkey.’ Said John, tallying up the results on his napkin. ‘The ball’s in your court, Piers. If it ends in a draw, we settle the matter with rock, paper, scissors.’

Piers went pale, adjusting his collar uncomfortably as every pair of eyes in the room fell upon him expectantly. He glanced over at the turkey, who was sitting in the corner preening her feathers, and swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘I don’t really lean too heavily either way.’

More groaning, promptly followed by a loud, ‘for fuck’s sake!’ from Joe.

‘This is a load of bollocks!’ Snapped Roger. ‘It’s a bloody turkey, we eat them all the time! Quick bang on the head and it won’t feel a thing.’

‘Are you volunteering to murder the turkey, Roger?’ Brian asked with a raised brow.

The drummer’s face went red. ‘It’s not murder! It’s necessary slaughter so that I can have a decent Christmas lunch! Now, shut up and hand me a knife!’

‘Oh no you don’t!’ Jim blocked Roger’s way before he could advance on the poor bird. ‘We’re not killing Trixie and that’s final!’

‘Trixie?’ Peter slapped a hand over his forehead. ‘Jim, darling, you’re not supposed to name it. If you name it, you’ll get attached to it.’

‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable killing a named turkey.’ Said John.

Roger threw the knife down in frustration. ‘Well, one of you fuckers better do it. I’m not eating Brian’s shitty nut roast!’

They ate Brian’s nut roast. Trixie the turkey clucked away happily on Jim’s lap, pecking at the handful of nuts the Irishman offered her every few minutes, while Roger glared daggers at her from the head of the table.

After a slightly awkward lunch, Freddie announced they would delay doing the dishes and skip right to opening the presents to clear the air. Phoebe excused himself to go upstairs and bring down the last of the gifts while the others gathered round the tree, hoping that a bit of festive spirit would make up for their less than satisfactory dinner.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on their side that day; Phoebe came strolling down the stairs, gift boxes piled high past his head and failed to notice the stray turkey feather lying hazardously on one of the steps. Seconds later, he’d fallen on his arse and the gifts were flying through the air, the heaviest one smacking Mary in the head, as she appeared at the bottom of the staircase to offer a hand.

‘I’m beginning to think this house is cursed.’ Joe took a long swig of wine straight from the bottle, while the others gathered around Mary on the couch, desperately trying to bring her round.

‘Call an ambulance!’ Freddie cried. ‘Jesus Christ, what was in that parcel? It’s knocked her clean out!’

‘A typewriter!’ Peter held the offending present up. ‘Thanks Freddie!’

‘We don’t need an ambulance.’ Jim came wading through the crowd, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a shot glass in the other. ‘A small sip of the old scotch and she’ll be right as rain.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Jim?’ Phoebe asked uncertainly. ‘You know what a lightweight Mary is. Remember Freddie’s 40th when you gave her that rum and coke?’

‘Don’t remind me. I can still taste the lipstick.’ Said Joe with a shudder.

‘Trust me.’ Jim carefully placed the glass under Mary’s nose, until her eyes fluttered open. ‘There, you see? Get some of this down you, love, it’ll make you feel better.’

It appeared Miss Austin would live to see another day, though the way she knocked back the whiskey and asked for a refill without so much as a shiver was rather concerning.

‘Explain to me how you managed to “accidentally” set the turkey on fire!’ Brian snapped, as Jim patted down a very traumatised Trixie with a tea towel, smoke still wafting off her singed feathers.

‘My foot slipped!’ Roger insisted.

‘Liar! You kicked her on purpose!’

‘Those are fighting words, Brian!’

The brawl that followed was only de-escalated when John picked up the creamer that held the brandy sauce for the Christmas pudding and promptly poured it over both their heads.

‘Delilah, this isn’t funny!’ Freddie was on all fours by the fireplace, shouting up the chimney which the calico had decided to venture into for no apparent reason other than to annoy him. ‘You have no business being up there, now come down this instant before you hurt yourself!’

‘Don’t worry, Freddie. Cats always land on their feet.’ Peter assured him, picking up one of the mince pies sitting on the coffee table, trying to ignore Roger and Brian cursing at each other in the background. ‘Have you tried using food to get her down?’

‘She won’t even budge for tuna.’ Freddie motioned to the open can. ‘Honestly, she’s never shown any interest in this bloody chimney, but she picks today of all days!’

He stuck his head up further. ‘Delilah, you’re being a very naughty girl! Get down here right now, or I’ll-’

A loud screech echoed from inside the chimney and Delilah suddenly tumbled right out onto Freddie’s head, a giant cloud of soot following close behind.

‘I think you’ve had enough, Mary.’ Said Jim, holding the woman at arm’s length as she tried to peck him on the cheek again. ‘Maybe you should sit down.’

He had thought taking her into the conservatory would help clear her head, maybe sober her up a bit, but it only seemed to make things worse; Mary floated around the place as elegantly as an elephant, burying her face into Jim’s potted plants and making the same comments about the weather over and over while taking shot after shot of whiskey.

‘I’m fiiine.’ The woman slurred, putting her lips to her glass again, only to discover it was empty. She shrugged and popped it between her cleavage, making Jim’s face burn. ‘This is such a fun party, isn’t it? The whiskey is absolutely deli…delic…it’s lovely.’

Where the fuck is Piers when you need him? Jim swore internally, as he steered the drunk woman to the little loveseat by the window. This has got to be the longest bathroom break in human history.

Before he could safely sit Mary down, Trixie zoomed past, squawking frantically as Romeo chased after her. Jim was taken by surprise and lost his balance, the cushions on the loveseat breaking his fall as he landed on his back, unintentionally bringing Mary down on top of him. The turkey and her pursuer disappeared through the door and back into the hallway, practically leaving a trail of dust.

‘You know, Jim,’ Mary hiccupped, her face so close he could practically taste the alcohol on her breath, ‘I’m not wearing any underwear…’

‘Joe, what the fuck have you done?’ Phoebe yelled, using one of the serving trays as a shield to protect himself from the many chestnuts ricocheting off the walls. ‘Didn’t you score them before you put them in the oven?!’

‘Fuck your chestnuts.’ Joe took another swig of wine from the bottle, leaning on the kitchen counter to steady himself. He barely noticed when another nut popped and flew over his head, missing him by an inch. ‘Fuck your chestnuts and fuck Christmas. Fucking commercial holiday. Money, money, money, that’s all they fucking care about.’

‘Joe!’ Phoebe screamed, ducking and dodging the popping nuts as if they were bullets. ‘For God’s sake!’

‘Fucking Freddie and his fucking cats…’ Joe swayed on the spot, stifling a belch. ‘Blaming me for wrecking the turkey I spent hours slaving over, when it was fucking Delilah’s fault. And then I go get him a nice, fresh turkey and what thanks do I get? We adopt the fucking turkey! Of course we do! Because this is Garden fucking Lodge, and we can’t just have a nice normal Christmas like everyone else. I fucking hate this place, fuck-’

Another nut flew through the air, hitting the bottle in Joe’s hand and completely shattering it, spilling wine all over the floor, counter and Joe’s front, so the place looked like a crime scene.

Phoebe strongly considered handing in his notice then and there.

‘You know, it’s not too late to run for the hills, darling.’ Said Freddie miserably. ‘No one would blame you if you did.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Jim replied, wiping a smear of Mary’s lipstick off the corner of his mouth. ‘As far as Christmases go, this could have been a lot worse.’

Freddie, covered from head to toe in soot, gave him a deadpan stare.

The living room looked like the aftermath of Pompeii. Brian and Roger were drying their hair by the fire, having finally managed to wash all the brandy sauce out. John was having a staring match with Tiffany over the last pig in blanket on the coffee table. Phoebe was hoovering up the stray turkey feathers, while Trixie followed at his heels, chirping away. Peter was testing out his new typewriter, a very sooty Delilah cleaning herself on the cushion beside him. Piers was trying to sober Mary up with a glass of water, though she seemed far more interested in getting into his pants. And Joe was slumped in the corner, singing an unintelligible tune, wine staining his face and shirt, so he looked like a serial killer.

‘Hey Freddie.’ Freddie turned at the sound of Jim’s voice and saw the Irishman was holding a small, soot-covered mistletoe above their heads. ‘Merry Christmas.’

The singer cocked a brow. ‘Really, Jim?’

‘Believe me, this wasn’t half as crazy as Christmases back home. Now, give us a kiss.’

‘I worry about you sometimes.’ Freddie laughed, rubbed the soot off his lips and leaned in to kiss his husband.

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 18)

A Catmas Carol 👻

The house was eerily quiet.

It was unusual for the humans to retire to their rooms so early, especially on Christmas Eve; Freddie in particular could stay up for hours, drinking wine and chatting away until the sun was up again. Delilah highly suspected that Jim had something to do with his sudden desire to go to bed. She was never one to eavesdrop, but she had passed by their bedroom enough times to know that the couple engaged in plenty of bizarre mating rituals.

(She had no idea whether male humans had spikes on their privates like tomcats, but if they did, her heart went out to poor Freddie.)

It had been a less than desirable day for the self-appointed princess of Garden Lodge. She had yet again fallen out of favour with her less than loyal subjects, after deliberately picking a fight with Romeo, then running to her fathers for protection when the others ganged up on her. Miko, ever the voice of reason, had decided she’d had enough of her spoilt sister’s behaviour and washed her paws of her, the others following suit.

‘You’re the most selfish cat that’s ever lived, Delilah!’ The tortoiseshell’s words still echoed in her brain. ‘You have no compassion for anybody else! If you carry on this way, you’ll die a miserable, lonely old moggie with no one to love you.’

An absurd statement, of course. No matter how resentful her fellow cats grew of her, Delilah knew it was impossible for her to ever lose the affections of her beloved Freddie and Jim. Humans were delightfully easy to please and she needn’t do any more than rub herself against their ankles or roll over onto her back to show off her belly to appease them. As far as she was concerned, the approval of her parents was all that mattered. She couldn’t help it if she happened to be the favourite child.

As the clock in the hallway neared midnight, Delilah yawned and stretched out in her basket, pretending that she didn’t miss the comforting warmth of Goliath and Miko lying beside her. The others had made a point of all sleeping together in the conservatory, as far away from her royal highness as possible, but Delilah was able to convince herself that she didn’t care. If they wanted to be petty and stubborn, so be it. It wasn’t going to ruin her Christmas.

She kneaded her paws against the soft padding in the basket and curled up to fall asleep.

The gentle tinkling of a bell roused Delilah from her dreams about chasing rabbit-sized mice and she blinked open sleepy yellow eyes, only to find the hallway deserted as it had been when she first settled down in her basket. And yet, she could definitely hear a bell somewhere in the distance, the sort that humans tied to cat collars for God knows what reason.

The hair on her back immediately stood up. None of the cats in Garden Lodge wore collars; Freddie never really saw the point in them, given that they spent half their lives clambering through bushes and would likely just lose them anyway. So, whoever this bell belonged to, they were trespassing on her turf, and she wasn’t about to take that lying down.

Delilah leapt out of her basket and crept towards the staircase where the noise was coming from, her velvet paws silent against the carpet as she made her way up to the landing. The door to one of the guest rooms was open just a crack and the sound of the bell grew louder as she stalked over and carefully squeezed her way through the gap. The moment she set foot in the room she froze on the spot.

A small calico was sitting on one of the armchairs by the window, the moonlight shining against their patched white fur as they delicately cleaned their paws. They didn’t appear to notice Delilah’s entrance, nor did they react when she gave a low, threatening hiss. They just sat there, licking their paw, and rubbing it behind their ear, before repeating the process over and over. Having failed to scare off the intruder with a warning, Delilah decided on a more direct approach.

‘What are you doing in my house?’ She growled, advancing on the smaller cat, using her size to her advantage. ‘You better get out of here before I make you. If my father finds out a dirty stray has been stinking up his guest room, he’ll be furious.’

The calico finally paused in their grooming and regarded Delilah with a calm, inquisitive stare. The air in the room suddenly turned ice cold.

‘We both know that’s not true.’ They replied in a silky voice. ‘Freddie would take in all of London’s strays if it were possible.’

Delilah felt her hackles go up immediately. How on earth did this random cat know her father’s name? Her shock quickly turned to anger, and she decided she’d had enough. She charged at the stranger, teeth bared and claws out; but in the blink of an eye, the creature vanished, and Delilah crashed into an empty chair.

‘You’re wasting your time.’ That same voice appeared again, and Delilah whipped round to see the calico now sitting on the bed. ‘You can’t catch the wind, my friend.’

Delilah looked as though she had been struck by an electric wire, her fur sticking straight up, her ears flat against her skull. ‘What the fuck are you?!’

‘You don’t know me, Delilah.’ The calico replied calmly. ‘I came into Freddie’s life a long time before you did. My name is Jerry, the cat of Christmas Past.’

The name was oddly familiar. Delilah knew little about the cats that came before Garden Lodge, but she could vaguely remember Freddie mentioning a pair called Tom and Jerry, his “first babies” as he called them. But they had passed away years ago. How on earth could-?

Delilah felt her entire body begin to shake uncontrollably. ‘You’re…you’re a…’

‘A ghost?’ Jerry gave her an amused look, tail flicking back and forth. ‘It’s alright, you’re allowed to say it.’

‘But why are you here?’ Delilah asked, frozen in place. ‘You lived with that blonde woman, go and haunt her.’

‘I’m not here to haunt anyone, Delilah.’ Replied Jerry. ‘I’m here to remind you of the cat you once were, before you became so greedy and self-centred. Come with me now and let me show you.’

Before Delilah could even ask what she meant, the room suddenly began to spin. When her vision finally adjusted, she realised she was in the lounge, except the lights were on and people were bustling around her, drinking, and chatting and exchanging gifts. For a moment, she wondered if it had all just been a crazy dream and she’d slept right on through to Christmas Day; but when she caught sight of Freddie sitting on the couch, she noticed he was fussing over two little kittens in his arms, one black, the other white with patches.

‘It’s alright. Nobody can see you.’ Jerry’s voice suddenly murmured into her ear. ‘Does that little one look familiar?’

‘That’s me.’

Jerry nodded. ‘Your first Christmas. Freddie couldn’t wait to show you off to all his friends. He’s always had a soft spot for calicos, and he thought you were the most beautiful kitten he had ever seen.’

Delilah watched as her younger self scampered around the lounge with Goliath, the two of them rolling around, pouncing on each other, even taking it in turns to see who could annoy Oscar the most by grabbing hold of his tail (much to his displeasure.) She could hardly remember the last time she and her brother had played together; these days they could hardly be in the same room without having a scrap.

‘See how happy you were?’ Jerry continued. ‘No fighting, no competing; just two kittens having fun together on Christmas Day. Just the way it should be.’

Delilah remembered. It had been years, but she could still recall that joyful, carefree feeling of being a kitten; your only cares in the world being that of jumping and playing or bothering any cats bigger than you. Life was so simple back then.

‘I want you to remember this moment.’ Jerry was suddenly in front of her, the little bell around her neck jingling softly. ‘Remember how good it felt to love and be loved. I have to go now, but you’ll have a new visitor soon. It was a pleasure to meet you, Delilah.’

In a flash, Jerry was gone, and Delilah was standing in the darkened hallway again, the only sound to be heard being that of the clock ticking ominously in the background. The last time she remembered ever feeling afraid within the walls of Garden Lodge was when she first arrived as a tiny kitten; she found that fear resurfacing, as the house suddenly felt sinisterly empty, as if she was the only living soul that remained.

It had all been a dream, she decided. Any sensible cat knows that ghosts aren’t real, and she felt ridiculous for even considering such a thing to be true. She decided to have a prowl around the garden to clear her head, maybe catch a few mice to leave on the doorstep to remind her dads about the ins-and-outs of proper hunting. She jogged down the hall to the kitchen and squeezed through the cat flap, stepping out onto the frost covered grass and sniffing the air.

As she made her way down the lawn, she noticed a shape in the darkness. It was sitting up on the wall surrounding the house, so silent and still that it was almost invisible. Her hackles went up on instinct but when she was directly below the silhouette, she found she recognised the grey-and-white fur and the long, plush tail flicking to and fro.

‘Tiffany?’

Delilah immediately scaled up the wall to get a closer look, just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. But there was no mistake; the Himalayan was there, gazing up at the night sky with a look of peace on her face that had never graced her during life. She turned her head as Delilah cautiously approached her, sapphire eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

‘Hello, dear.’

Delilah’s legs began to shake, and she steadied herself before he fell off the wall altogether. She poked Tiffany with her paw, just to make sure she was real, and when she felt the soft fur against her pads, she let out a cry and nuzzled the Himalayan desperately.

‘Tiffany…’ Her voice trembled, overwhelmed with so many emotions at once as she embraced the old cat. ‘Mummy…it’s really you.’

‘Of course it’s me, dear.’ Tiffany replied, licking the calico between the ears the way she did when Delilah was a kitten. ‘You didn’t think I’d just up and leave without saying goodbye, did you? You can’t get rid of me that easily.’

‘I miss you so much, Mummy.’ Delilah whined, ears drooping. ‘Why did you have to go? It was too soon. It wasn’t fair.’

‘I know, darling. I didn’t want to leave you, any of you. It was simply my time. Unfortunately, we don’t get a choice in how or when we leave; it just happens.’

Delilah’s heart ached at the memory of Tiffany’s passing. She and Miko would often visit the little flower bed outside the dining room window where she was buried, either to pay their respects or simply have a conversation with the cat who had been their mother in all but blood. It was reassuring (and slightly disturbing) to know that Tiffany might have been able to hear them.

‘Alas, I didn’t come for a social call, dear.’ Tiffany stood up, stretching out her beautiful tail. ‘I’ve noticed that you’ve been having a bit of trouble with your brothers and sisters lately. I’m here as the cat of Christmas Present.’

Delilah huffed, sitting back on her heels. ‘It’s not my fault, Mummy. They’re all being beastly to me because they’re jealous! I hate them, I hate them all!’

‘Delilah.’ Tiffany gave her a disapproving look, one that always used to make her squirm. ‘I think we both know that’s not strictly true. I’ve known you before you could use a litter box, young lady; do you think it’s possible that your behaviour could be the cause of their resentment?’

The calico’s ears flopped back shamefully, and she lowered her head. ‘Perhaps…’

Satisfied with this answer, Tiffany murmured, ‘follow me,’ and hopped down from the wall.

Delilah followed her across the garden until they reached the conservatory, whereupon Tiffany jumped onto the windowsill and instantly walked through the glass like a wisp of smoking disappearing in the wind. Delilah hesitated and lifted her paw, expecting to feel a cold surface, but to her shock it passed through as if she was touching water; she took the plunge and pushed her way through the glass, landing next to Tiffany on the other side. The Himalayan motioned to the four cats lying on the loveseat nearby; Romeo and Lily were fast asleep, curled up to each other as always, while Goliath and Miko watched them from close by.

‘Maybe I should go and check on her.’ Miko said quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping kits. ‘I know she’s a handful, but no one should be alone on Christmas Eve.’

‘She’s made her bed, Miko.’ Replied Goliath. ‘If we keep giving in to her demands, she’ll never change. I’m tired of her walking all over everyone, thinking she can treat us however she wants.’

‘I know, I know.’ Miko sighed, dropping her head between her paws. ‘But she’s our sister. She’s a stubborn, spoiled brat but I love her.’

‘I love her too. I’m always going to love her. But we need to draw the line somewhere.’

Guilt wasn’t a familiar feeling to Delilah, but right then she felt sick with it. She took a step forward to say something but quickly remembered they couldn’t see or hear her, and she sat back down again in defeat.

‘They don’t hate you, sweetheart.’ Tiffany said with a purr, which always calmed them down as children. ‘Your brothers and sisters are always going to love you, no matter what. You can’t spend your entire life blaming others for your shortcomings, Delilah. You’re a big girl now; you need to take some responsibility.’

She was right, of course. Tiffany was always right. Delilah looked over at her four siblings and realised just how much she needed them in her life; as irritating as they could be at times, they were her family, and nothing could ever replace them. She felt disgusted at herself for being so dismissive of their feelings.

Something changed in the air and Delilah felt her chest go tight. She turned and nuzzled her face into Tiffany’s soft fur again; it always made her feel so warm and safe, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to cope never feeling it again.

‘I don’t want you to go.’ She whispered.

‘I know, my darling.�� Tiffany replied. ‘But I’m always going to be with you. I’m in the grass you walk on, the trees you climb, every flower that you sniff. And I love you so much.’

‘I love you too, Mummy.’

She knew what was coming but she didn’t want to look. Delilah closed her eyes as the world around her changed and when she opened them again, Tiffany was gone, and she was back in the hallway. At times like this, she wished cats could cry like humans did; while it was distressing to watch, there always seemed to be a sense of relief after it was over and would usually end with a comforting hug or words of love. The calico settled for the next best thing; she curled up in her basket and meowed mournfully until exhaustion overcame her and she fell asleep.

‘Delilah?’

‘Bugger off.’ Delilah mumbled forthwith. She’d had just about enough ghosts for one night.

‘Delilah, you have to get up.’

The calico reluctantly opened her eyes and saw a little grey kitten sitting by her basket, a red ribbon tied delicately around his neck, so he looked like a wrapped gift. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m the cat of Christmas Yet to Come.’

‘Of course you are.’

Their surroundings appeared unchanged, though it had to be morning as light filtered in through the windows. Delilah’s mind immediately turned to her siblings sleeping in the conservatory and she sprang to her feet to rush down the hallway, the grey kitten jogging after her.

‘Delilah, wait-’

‘Leave me alone!’ Delilah snapped. ‘I need to see the others!’

‘They’re not here, Delilah.’

When Delilah reached the conservatory, she skidded to a halt when she discovered it was scarce of any cats; Freddie and Jim were sitting on the loveseat, Jim’s arm wrapped around Freddie’s shoulder as the smaller man held a photo frame in trembling hands. The pair looked significantly older, their hair grey and skin sagging, as if they had suddenly aged a hundred years. The moment she saw them, Delilah instinctively approached, tail raised in greeting as she nuzzled Freddie’s shin, but he didn’t even glance at her.

‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’ Freddie sounded like he was on the verge of tears as he held the frame close to him, hugging it to his chest. ‘Why did they all leave, Jim? I could understand with Oscar, and maybe even Goliath. But Romeo, Lily and Miko too? What did I do wrong? God, this is the worst fucking Christmas ever.’

Delilah’s blood ran cold. She desperately rubbed herself against Freddie’s leg, but it were as if he couldn’t even see her. Then she realised – he couldn’t.

‘You did nothing wrong, love.’ Replied Jim, gently kissing Freddie’s forehead. ‘Cats are complicated. Sometimes they just decide they’ve had enough and move on. You looked after them like they were your own biological children; don’t blame yourself.’

Freddie sighed and set the photograph down on the coffee table; it was only then that Delilah realised it was a picture of Miko, sprawled out on the front lawn with all four paws in the air, Jim’s hand in the shot as he rubbed her tummy.

‘They’re gone?’ She turned to the grey kitten, who was sitting calmly nearby. ‘What happened? Where did they go?’

‘Not sure.’ Replied the kitten rather curtly. ‘I think Goliath ended up with one of the neighbours, but the others have disappeared completely.’

‘This is their home. Why on earth would they leave?’

‘Why do you think? No one wants to leave with a mean, vindictive cat who always sees herself as the victim. In the end, they got tired of it and left Garden Lodge. As you can see, your humans are absolutely devastated.’

Before Delilah could respond, she saw a scrawny, miserable looking cat slouch into the room and jump onto the loveseat beside Jim, nudging his arm with its head. Jim reached down and stroked its matted fur, his touch feather light as if he were afraid it might break in two if he applied too much pressure.

‘At least we still have our little princess.’ The Irishman said. ‘Delilah’s never going to leave us, are you, old girl?’

Delilah was appalled. That ugly, worn-out cat couldn’t possibly be her! But the resemblance was undeniable. She was looking at her future self. It felt as though she had stepped into a nightmare.

‘She’s on her last legs.’ A tear spilled from Freddie’s eye, staining his cheek. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do when she goes. I’ll have no more babies left.’ Another tear fell, splashing against his jeans. ‘I told you, Jim, everyone leaves me. Even the bloody cats.’

Seeing Freddie in so much pain hurt Delilah to the core. All she wanted to do was rush over to him and jump onto his lap for a cuddle. But that wasn’t possible, thanks to this stupid ghost body she appeared to be trapped in.

‘I thought you’d be happy.’ Said the grey kitten. ‘Without the others, all the attention will be solely on you. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘I want my family back!’ Delilah wailed, unable to watch her parents suffer any longer. ‘You said this is Christmas yet to come. That means I can change things, right? I can stop this from happening?’

The kitten said nothing. He turned and began walking down the hall, which suddenly seemed to stretch on for miles like a giant, black tunnel.

‘Spirit!’ Delilah screamed, trying to run after him but finding her feet were unable to move. ‘Spirit, I’ll change! I swear, I will!’

There was no response. Delilah could only watch as the kitten disappeared from view, before the darkness closed in around her, swallowing her whole.

‘Delilah? Delilah, wake up!’

The calico’s eyes flew open, and she discovered she had tangled herself up in the blanket from her basket, the fabric wrapped around her so tightly she could barely breathe. She wriggled herself free and came face to face with Miko, who was staring at her with great concern. The house around them had returned to normal, the grandfathers clock ticking away in the background.

10:30 in the morning. She was back. She had been given a second chance.

‘What on earth happened?’ Miko asked. ‘You were crying and struggling in your sleep. Did you have a bad-?’

She was cut off as Delilah immediately began licking every inch of her face, grooming between her ears and each of her furry cheeks until the tortoiseshell was certain she wouldn’t need to bathe for a week.

‘Delilah? What’s gotten into you? Have you lost your mind?’

‘I’m sorry.’ The calico mumbled between licks. ‘I’m so, so sorry for everything Miko. You’re right, I’m a spoiled brat and you have every right to hate me. I’ll change, Miko, I promise I will. I don’t want to be that sort of cat anymore.’

Miko looked slightly hesitant, but such a sudden and genuine display of affection must have been enough to convince her. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that, Delilah. I’m not going to lie; your behaviour recently has really upset us. But if you’re willing to change, I believe you. The others might need some more convincing, but I’ve got your back. Now, come on, let’s go and clear the air. It’s Christmas Day and there’s to be no fighting.’

‘There won’t be, cross my heart.’ Delilah beamed as she followed her sister to the conservatory. ‘Oh Miko, I have so much to tell you. You won’t believe the night I’ve had!’

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 12)

Away in a Manger 🌟

Miami was close to caving his skull in, with the way he kept bonking his head against the wall.

When Queen had been asked to participate in a Nativity play, which was to be performed in front of a live audience and aired on the BBC to help raise money for Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital, their manager had leapt at the chance for the band to get some good PR while making a sizeable donation to a good cause at the same time.

The moment the cameras started rolling, he immediately began to regret his decision.

‘So, this is what you’ve been up to while I’ve been in heaven?’ Freddie called down to Jim from where he was suspended in the air over the set, dressed as angel Gabriel. ‘I leave for five minutes and come back to find you’ve got some Nazareth hussy up the duff! You’re in big trouble, Joseph of Arimathea!’

‘Freddie, that’s not the line.’ Jim hissed; cheeks red as the audience began to laugh. ‘You’re supposed to say, “be not afraid.”’

‘Oh, you should be afraid, mister!’ Freddie grumbled, swaying in his harness as he was lowered to the ground. ‘If you think I’m going to help you pay for child support, you’ve got another thing coming! I don’t care if she’s carrying the son of God, she’s not getting a penny from me!’

‘He does realise this is just a play, doesn’t he?’ Mary murmured into Jim’s ear, clutching her fake bump.

Jim wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.

‘Will someone get him off the damn stage?’ Miami barked to the crew, ready to tear his hair out. ‘Skip the angel scene. Cut to the donkey!’

There was a fair bit of crashing and thumping as Freddie was all but dragged offstage, the audience hooting with laughter at his protests about the “Virgin” Mary being a massive fraud. The front end of a donkey came hobbling in and almost collided with Jim, the back end quickly following suit.

‘What the fuck are you doing, Crystal?’ Ratty snapped a bit too loudly. ‘You can’t just charge off without the donkey’s arse, you’re supposed to wait for me!’

‘It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.’ Crystal growled. ‘Now shut it, the donkey isn’t supposed to talk.’

‘Lord give me strength.’ Miami pulled out the small flask of whiskey he always carried for emergencies and took a long swig.

Fortunately, the rest of the scene went along without a hitch, until Ratty stepped on his own tail and sent both he and Crystal tumbling over in a heap. The audience were laughing so hard at the angry, cursing donkey, there was genuine concern they might injure themselves.

By the time the shepherds came on, Miami was ready to hand in his resignation. Brian, Roger, and John’s performances were exemplary, but the same couldn’t be said for John’s children, who were playing the sheep; the Deacon sprogs refused to keep still, forcing their poor father to put his shepherding skills to good use as he ran around after them. By the time Freddie’s replacement for angel Gabriel appeared, the stage was scarce of any actors and there was a unanimous decision to scrap the scene altogether and quickly move on to Mary and Joseph’s arrival in Bethlehem.

‘Mary, what are you doing here?’ Miami squawked as the blonde woman appeared in the wings, looking dazed. ‘You’re on in a minute! Where’s your costume?’

‘Freddie made me give it to him.’

‘He what?’

Needless to say, there was an uproar when Freddie appeared wearing the Virgin Mary’s signature blue cloak, a balloon stuffed under his dress to serve as a baby bump. He was pulling Jim along by the hand, the Irishman looking like he wanted to die on the spot. The feeling was mutual for Miami.

‘This will be the ruin of me.’ He almost wept, as Freddie began berating the innkeeper for not having a spare room available.

Herod’s segment went a lot more smoothly, to the point where it seemed as though Paul Prenter had been born for the role of a baby-killing maniac. The three wise men, not so much, as Joe made the mistake of having a sniff of his frankincense (which turned out to be pepper granules) and sneezed right in the middle of Phoebe’s lines. This scene was also promptly cut, and they swiftly moved on to the finale in the stable.

‘Someone get the baby Jesus so we can end this fucking mess.’ Miami buried his face in his hands as Freddie started ranting about how he couldn’t give birth in such appalling conditions. ‘Where’s the doll?’

‘Mr Mercury said we didn’t need the doll anymore.’ Replied one of the stagehands. ‘He said he’s using his own baby for Jesus.’

‘But Freddie doesn’t have a ba-’

‘Here he is!’ Freddie cried, shamelessly ad-libbing at this point. ‘The son of our Lord is finally here!’

Miami felt his spirit leave his body and rise to the ceiling when he saw the frontman holding a little blue swaddle, with a very disgruntled Delilah wrapped inside it. As soon as she was placed in the manger, she immediately wriggled herself free and began grooming her fur, which had been ruffled by the blanket.

The play ended to thunderous applause. Miami felt as though he had aged about ten years within an hour and vowed never to agree to participate in a charity event again. However, when the producer of the show approached and informed him that viewership was through the roof, and Great Ormond Street Hospital had received more than double their goal in donations, he decided that maybe he had been a little too hasty.

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 8)

Don We Now Our Gay Apparel 🧶

‘Well, what do you think?’

For a man who was used to being asked all kinds of difficult and intrusive questions from the press, Freddie truly didn’t know how to answer this very simple question from his own mother-in-law. He held Ann’s gift up a little closer to the light, trying to think of an appropriate word to describe the mustard-coloured sweater with a little black cat on it. A word other than hideous, that is.

He was flattered when Jim informed him that his mother had insisted Freddie be a part of the annual Hutton family tradition that year, given that he would be celebrating his first Christmas in Ireland. What exactly this tradition was, Jim refused to disclose, until Ann had handed Freddie a rather lumpy package on Christmas Day and he had opened it to find this knitted monstrosity. Apparently, it was tradition for Ann to knit each and every one of her ten children a new sweater every Christmas, but her hands weren’t quite as nimble as they used to be now that she was entering her twilight years, so her creations always ended up looking a little bit…peculiar.

Freddie’s cat, for example, had a huge pink pom-pom sewn into the middle of its face to serve as a nose, and its eyes were cartoonishly wide. She’d even gone to the trouble of stitching a little Santa hat onto its head, just to make it festive. It might have been cute, had it not looked as though the poor critter had just witnessed the horrors of war. Jim hadn’t been much luckier with his own sweater; his reindeer’s antlers were lopsided and one of the buttons used for its eyes had already fallen off, so it looked like it had been in a horrible accident.

Freddie swallowed the lump in his throat and fixed Ann with the most genuine smile he could muster. ‘I love it, Mrs Hutton. It’s beautifully made.’

Seeing the little old lady brighten up at his words made Freddie want to cry. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, pet! Seamus told me about how much you love cats, so I thought I’d knit you something a bit different. I gave your kitty a little Santa hat though, just so you’d remember it’s Christmas!’

Freddie rubbed his fingers over the soft material, feeling a bit guilty for being so dismissive of the sweater upon first glance. It really wasn’t that bad now that he looked at it properly. ‘Thank you, Mrs Hutton. It was very considerate of you to take your time to make this for me.’

‘Oh, I spend half my life knitting, dear. It really wasn’t any trouble.’ Ann reached over and gave Freddie’s hand an affectionate squeeze. ‘Besides, you’re part of the family now. It’s only fair for you to get your own special sweater like everyone else.’

Now Freddie really wanted to cry. He could feel the tears beginning to fill his eyes but quickly blinked them away and grabbed onto Jim’s hand to ground himself. The last thing he needed was to be teased by Jim’s own mother for blubbering like a baby.

‘And no more of this “Mrs Hutton” nonsense.’ Ann opened her arms and pulled the man into a bone breaking hug, surprisingly strong for such a tiny housewife. ‘From now on, you just call me Nan, like everyone else.’

One wretched tear managed to creep its way from Freddie’s eye but he wiped it away before the old lady could notice. As soon as Ann released him, Freddie picked up the sweater and pulled it over his head, finding that it fit a treat, even if it was a bit itchy.

He decided then and there that it was the nicest sweater he had ever worn in his life.

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freddiefiction · 2 years

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Jimercury Advent Calendar (Day 10)

Glad Tidings We Bring 🥣

Freddie had really gone all out for Christmas this year.

He had always been rather prone to over decorating the house during the holiday season; so much so that Garden Lodge often looked like Santa Claus himself had thrown up over it by the time he was finished. But this year, he had truly outdone himself.

You could barely see the walls for all the wreathes and tinsel and paper snowflakes hung about from room to room. The tree in the lounge was so large, it touched the ceiling, laden down with various baubles, candy canes, clip-on ornaments and even little chocolates from the Quality Street tin Phoebe had bought for their party guests. The presents were all carefully wrapped and prepared, sitting in neat individual piles so there could be no awkward mishaps (like last year, when Graham Hamilton had received the Cartier rose gold bracelet intended for Mary, and she in turn got a pair of sterling silver cufflinks.)

Everything was in place for what was to be a Christmas like no other.

Then, on the morning of the 25th, Freddie woke up and found he couldn’t stop shivering.

An emergency visit from Doctor Atkinson – who was remarkably forbearing despite being called out on Christmas Day – confirmed their worst fears. Freddie had the flu and a bad case of it at that. Despite his insistence that he was fine, they all knew that any sort of social gathering was now completely out of the question; with a heavy heart, Freddie agreed to cancel the party and spend the day in bed as the doctor had ordered. The look of complete and utter devastation on his face almost broke Jim’s heart.

‘How is he?’ The Irishman asked softly, carefully stirring the large pot of soup he had prepared on the stove as Phoebe walked through the kitchen door with an empty glass.

‘Fast asleep.’ Phoebe replied, going to the sink to re-fill the glass with water. ‘Poor thing. He was so looking forward to seeing everyone today. I can’t imagine how gutted he must feel.’

Jim sighed and put a lid on the pot to let it simmer, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘We can’t let him spend his Christmas cooped up in bed all day. Surely there’s something we can do?’

‘Gordon says he needs to keep warm and get plenty of rest if he wants to be better by New Year. I hate this as much as you do, but the doctor knows what he’s talking about.’

Jim knew he was right, but that didn’t quell his frustration. He simply couldn’t allow his husband to miss out on the Christmas he had been so looking forward to. His stubborn brain simply wouldn’t allow it.

Joe popped his head round the doorway, looking haggard and carrying a large cardboard box. ‘That’s the last of the guest list. Everyone sends their love to Freddie, and Mary said she’ll pop by in the evening with the homemade mince pies she made. Peter will probably drop in too.’

‘Freddie will love that.’ Replied Jim, relieved. ‘Soup’s almost ready. Let him sleep another hour but we’ve got to get some food in him.’

‘Good luck with that.’ Joe chuckled and he shifted the box in his arms. ‘I’m going to stuff these leftover decorations in the attic before I get started on dinner. No point letting all that good food go to waste.’

Having a full Christmas dinner with all the trimmings while Freddie was stuck with soup felt like betrayal in Jim’s eyes. But Joe was right, there was no point letting it go to waste; in fact, Freddie had insisted the three of them make the most of the day despite his ailment, which was typical of him. Always putting others before himself.

He glanced at the box in Joe’s hands, overflowing with tinsel and baubles and many other brightly coloured absurdities Freddie liked to hang about the house. A thought suddenly sprang into his mind.

‘Hold off on dinner a while, Joe. I think I have an idea.’

As soon as Freddie opened his eyes, he let out a violent shiver.

He sighed and buried his face into his pillow, willing himself to fall back asleep again so he didn’t have to focus on the constant aching in his muscles or the dull throb in his head. If God or any deity existed, they definitely hated his guts; weeks and weeks of planning and preparing had all been for nothing, and now he’d be spending Christmas Day stuck in bed with the worse case of flu he’d ever had. He could do without the presents, and the music, and the food; but the loneliness was unbearable. The others were keeping their distance, lest they end up in the same predicament. He couldn’t even enjoy a cuddle with his husband.

He quickly blinked back tears before they could spill over. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

There was a soft knock at the door, and he was tempted to tell whoever it was to go away and let him die in peace. But then he heard Jim’s voice and immediately shot up, despite the agony this caused his bones. It was only then that he noticed the room.

Everything, from the dresser to the foot of the bed, had been decked in tinsel and garland. Several ornaments – including the little Nativity scene Freddie had fallen in love with during a trip to Selfridges – had been assembled on various surfaces, so everywhere he looked there was a snowman or a rosy-cheeked elf waving cheerily at him. Someone had even gone to the trouble of bringing up the miniature Christmas tree that was usually reserved for the conservatory; it sat comfortably in the corner, a pile of presents tucked safely underneath.

Freddie was so distracted trying to figure out when and how this had all been put together, he almost didn’t hear the door knock a second time. ‘Come in, dear!’

There was a loud rattling of cutlery, as Jim came through carrying a small tray and the familiar scent of red pepper immediately hit Freddie’s stuffy nose.

‘Soup’s up, my love.’ The Irishman said gently, setting the tray down on the nightstand before leaning down to kiss Freddie’s temple. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like complete and utter shit, darling.’ Freddie replied with a grin. ‘What on earth have you done to our bedroom? It looks like Santa’s Grotto in here!’

‘We thought you could use some cheering up. You were down for the count, so Joe and I got the decorations sorted out and Phoebe brought the tree up. I never realised what a heavy sleeper you could be.’

‘Feeling like death will do that to you, I suppose.’ Freddie said as he leaned back against the headboard. Despite how ill he was, seeing all the effort his family had gone to made him feel significantly less awful than he had felt that morning. He reached over and grabbed his husband’s hand, kissing the back of it. ‘Thank you for this, Jim. Even if this isn’t how I planned for the day to go, I couldn’t have asked for a better alternative.’

‘You know I’d give you the world if it was possible, pet.’ Jim squeezed Freddie’s hand back. ‘I can’t take all the credit though. This wouldn’t have been possible without Joe and Phoebe’s help.’

‘You better believe it!’ Joe chimed as he came through the door, Phoebe following closely behind. ‘If it wasn’t for me being so naturally light-footed, we’d never have got those damn decorations up without waking you.’

‘We’re blessed to have you, Liza.’ Jim reached over and lifted the steaming bowl off the nightstand, blowing on it carefully. ‘Mary and Peter are coming over later, so you’re going to need all the energy you can get. If you’re good and finish all your soup, we might let you open a present.’

Freddie rolled his eyes but obediently ate a spoonful regardless, the warm liquid somewhat soothing his sore throat. It might not have been a very traditional Christmas dinner, but he couldn’t complain. He ate another spoonful and leaned his head against Jim’s shoulder, safe in knowing that he didn’t really mind the idea of being trapped in bed for the entire holiday season, so long as the people he loved most were right by his side.

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