Jim's head hurt. He was vaguely aware of a throbbing pain from his hips below, but he couldn't remember what could have caused it. He distantly remembered going to a party, getting a few too many drinks, maybe...

Something about Freddie Mercury, that boy whom he loved so much, and a cat....

He saw Freddie across from him in bed, and then something occurred to him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" He shouted, trying to sit up. "WHY AM I NAKED AND WHY DOES MY ASS HURT LIKE HELL AND I CAn'T MOVE MY LEGS!"

He wasn't in his bed, he wasn't in his house, he couldn't WALK, he was NAKED in bed with Freddie Mercury, what had happened-

Suddenly Freddie's arms were wrapped around him. God, he loved Freddie, but he was still panicked. 
"Shhhh, babe. It's okay, it's okay."

"D-did we...?"

"Yes."

"Is that why I can't walk?"

"Yep."

"Uuuugh." moaned Jim. "Now I can't go to work and I'll get fired and I won't be able to live-"

"Darling, you live with me now, remember? You're literally so fucking rich."

Jim blushed BEET RED and leaned backwards into Freddie's arms. Freddie kissed him all over before propping him up against a pillow and volunteering to get him some "clothes, and some fresh lovely vodka to start off your day, sweetheart." To which Jim had replied, "Just some tea is fine, please." Freddie laughed and kissed Jim's forehead. "Of course, darling."

Freddie brought in tea, cookies, and a warm croissant, which Jim ate as the two lovers talked and cuddled. When Jim asked to go downstairs to watch Freddie practice with the band, Freddie had to carry him, as Jim couldn't walk. 

"I knew it!" screeched Roger. "Brian, you owe me twenty!"

Brian rolled his eyes and passed the money while Freddie gently put Jim down on the couch, and they began practice.

srry this is short im really tired