#monty python imagines

“John?” He called out, toeing off his shoes yet remaining where he stood. He closed the door and let out a heavy sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. His eyes met the cat’s in slight defiance. “John, there’s a cat in our sitting room.”

“I’m quite aware, dear, now come chop these damn vegetables.” John called from the kitchen. Michael stormed there immediately, practically stomping his foot in the doorway. John refused to turn around, but Michael knew that John knew that he was in a heap of trouble.

“John.” His husband’s hands ceased their work on the chicken before him, but he still refused to face Michael. “There’s a cat in our sitting room.” John silently set down his knife and reached for a towel. “You know what the landlord said about pets.”

John finally turned around, wiping his hands on the towel with a sheepish look. Michael saw him carefully consider his next words. “Well, I…was walking home after work and she wouldn’t stop following me, and it’s supposed to snow this evening, so…” Michael only crossed his arms again. “I couldn’t just leave her out there.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you can! I don’t want to get thrown out of our flat!” Michael threw his hands up in exasperation. His attention was torn from his husband when he felt the cat brushing against his leg, quickly making her way into the kitchen. John didn’t hesitate to throw down a small bit of chicken for her.

For a moment, Michael considered their options, and then considered the risks. That cat didn’t look at all stray, with its white, well-groomed hair and expensive collar. If they posted signs, they could probably find its owner in a week or two, especially with a cat that looked that pampered. She looked like she probably belonged to some rich bloke. And if they posted signs, they could probably make some much-needed cash for her finding, as well…

“Now you listen closely, John.” He took a step forward as John leaned down to pet the cat. “She can stay here until we find her owner, but I won’t be the one to clean up after her. If the landlord does find out, that’s on you, understand?” John didn’t reply, only straightening up with a nod. Michael swallowed as he thought of what risk that cat was putting them in, but he’d already made his decision. “I’m going to start making signs and posts for her owner. And when we find her owner, you’re not going to whine about it.”

“I’m not going to whine about it.” John repeated, hands crossing behind his back. Michael gave him a look of warning before a nod, and turned on his heel to find the bedroom.

John was most definitely going to whine about it. But, then again, he’d also said no to cats.

“Ah, hello, everyone!” He caught the interest of some, while others just resumed talking and eating and drinking among themselves. He had my full attention, however. His presence was becoming a black hole. I wanted to gravitate towards it. He didn’t seem to mind the lack of response. “My name is Eric Idle. I’ll be performing for you all this evening.”

I crossed one leg over the other and reached for my drink. I waited patiently as he tuned his guitar and joked around with the men on the keyboard and drums. This man was certainly charming- and not only to me, it seemed.

I must have watched him all evening. I barely registered the time passing. But with each ending song, he would look down at my table, notice that I was still there, and play another. Now, I wouldn’t say he was playing for me- but he was playing for me. That much was obvious; however, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

It was nearly midnight when finally stood from his stool. The only people left in the audience were two old ladies further back and myself. I gave a short, soft applaud anyway, and even went as far as to stand for them before gathering my things.

When I looked up again, the man was coming my way with his guitar slung over his back. I quickly smoothed down my skirt and cleared my throat. His first move was to hold out his hand for me to take, and I did so with glee. “I take it you enjoyed the show?”

“I very well did.” I replied, my voice weak. My legs threatened to collapse. Why was it this hard talking to a man I’d never seen before that evening? “You have a beautiful voice, mister.”

“Ah, just call me Eric. No need for formalities.” The man shifted in his spot with a shy grin. “Is there a name I could call you by, miss?”

I practically giggled. I hadn’t intended to; it just sort of came out, I suppose. “My name is Y/n. It’s very nice to meet you, Eric.”

He looked as if he’d been about to say something, but one of his band members called from a door leading off the stage. “Come on, Eric! It’s midnight, for fucks’ sake!” The man before me only laughed in reply before turning back to me. His smile suddenly fell, as did mine.

“Well…will you be performing here again?” I asked him, my hands folding behind my back. He didn’t have to think before replying.

“Oh- yes, yes, of course!” His band member shouted at him again, and Eric’s head shot back and forth from him and myself. “I, uh, have to go. But we should be back next Saturday evening, if you’ll be here?”

“Of course, yes! I’d love to see you perform, again.” Eric only smiled sadly at me, giving me a nod. He lingered for a moment, and I could tell he was just as sad to go as I was to watch him leave. “Well…you’d best be off, I’d think.”

“Yes…yes.” He let out a soft sigh. “So, next Saturday, then?”

I smiled. “Next Saturday.”

His hands found John’s shoulders, and he let his eyes fall closed as he let his nails sink into the other’s skin through his shirt. Michael brought himself closer, though kept an eye trained on the door ahead. Just the thrill of it all was intoxicatingly overwhelming, and he drank the feeling in like fine wine.

One moment, it seemed that things couldn’t be better. The next, he was most certainly right- as things got much, much worse.

It only took the sight of the doorknob twisting for Michael to shove harshly at John’s shoulders. John’s mouth, however, was still at his neck, and not quite catching the memo, latched back on again soon after. With Eric standing in the doorway, it only took Michael’s body going stiff for John to realize that something was terribly, utterly wrong.

For a moment, the world seemed to still around them, no one sure what to say. John’s back straightened as he looked to Eric with slight bewilderment, and their friend looked on utterly dumbfounded, and dear God, Michael had never felt so abysmal and ashamed.

When Eric quickly turned on his feet, shutting the door softly behind him, John was quick to follow. Michael had never seen him move so fast as he did then. Still, his voice was quicker. “John- John, I-”

“I’ll talk to him.” No comforting words, no heartfelt apologies, no reassurance. He was left empty-handed, helpless. His legs felt as if they’d fall beneath him- and at some point, they did, because he was now sobbing on the floor in his own misery.

Why did John ever think it was a good idea to fool around at work? Why did he have to agree? They’d only been seeing each other in private for a few months, both closeted despite knowing that their friends would be fine with it. But what would happen now, after the news broke out? Would Eric be that cruel? What would his family say? What would the people say when they knew that their favorite celebrities fooled around with each other in their spare time?

He was heaving, gasping for breath through wrecked sobs, when Terry quickly made his way into the room. His friend wasted no time in kneeling beside him and taking Michael into his arms, cradling him like a child. He was asking him something but there was no chance in hell Michael would hear. He felt that they both knew that.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there after his cries died down. No one else had entered the room to check on them, and Terry sat like a stone wall between Michael and the door. He felt safe, but he knew he’d feel safer when John returned. If John returned. He wasn’t sure what John would decide to do after what had happened, but he could only pray that he loved Michael as much as Michael loved him.

When John finally did come back, Michael could tell that Terry was hesitant to leave him with all of the tension hanging around them, but soon untangled his limbs from Michaels’ own. As soon as the door shut, John was by his side, Michael’s head in his hands.

“Are you alright?” A kiss was pressed to his forehead, an act so simple yet so very needed he practically melted into the other’s chest from his spot on the floor. “I spoke with Eric. He’s sworn to keep quiet until we’re ready to tell the others. We’ll be alright, I promise you.”

Michael drowned himself in John’s scent, making himself as small as possible as he dragged himself closer even still. For a while, they were silent and unmoving. He wondered if Eric would stay true to his word. He wondered if John had even talked to Eric at all. Both completely ludicrous assumptions, he knew, but his mind was filling up the quiet space around him with an armada of nonsensical noise.

“They wouldn’t mind, you know,” John spoke, his voice so quiet it seemed as if he were trying not to wake a beast. Was that what John saw him as in that moment, he wondered? “If we were openly partners. Eric didn’t have to tell me that for me to know.”

Michael gazed up at him, swallowing in his throat. John’s eyes were red, and strained. Michael hadn’t been the only one to cry, it seemed. “But what happens when- when the world finds out?”

John ran a hand through Michael’s hair, giving him just a hint of a smile. His eyes fell closed at the gentle sensation. “They aren’t barbarians. You know they can keep their word.” John kissed him softly, if only for a moment, and Michael came to find that he’d rarely ever felt as safe than when he had John to hold him. “The world never has to know, if that’s what you want.”