Chapter Text
“Listen close. Can you hear how it changes when I put my finger on the fret?”
Teddy watched his father’s hands in rapt attention as John played an open G followed by a C note three frets down.
“It goes a bit higher, yeah?” John said. “Here, you try. You strum and I’ll play different notes.”
A grin lit the five-year-old’s face as his small fingers plucked the bass strings, listening in wonder as John’s right hand moved deftly over the fretboard to produce a string of notes in the choppy beat of his son’s strumming.
“I’m playing, daddy!” Teddy said, beaming.
John smiled. “And you’re quite good, aren’t you? Pretty soon your uncles will be asking you to play instead of me.”
“Oh, we’d already considered it,” Roger teased, habitually twirling his drumsticks. “Little tyke’s already as good as you when you started, Deaks.”
Teddy grinned. “You’re silly, Uncle Rog.”
Roger stuck his tongue out at the boy, making Teddy giggle.
“You ought to learn guitar too, Teddy,” Brian said from the couch, tuning the Red Special.
“Don’t twist it too tight, Uncle Bri,” Teddy warned. “It might break the string.”
Brian smiled, glancing up at John, knowing Teddy was most likely repeating a warning his father had given him about tuning his bass. John just smiled and shrugged.
“That so?” Brian asked Teddy.
The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh, daddy said so.”
Brian chuckled. “Your daddy’s right. It’s not good to make the strings too tight, but I promise I’ll take good care not to.”
Teddy glowed with pride that his advice had been useful, completely oblivious to the fact that nobody knew the Red Special better than Brian did. He opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps to offer more advice on the guitar, but his attention was drawn to Freddie’s entrance into the dressing room.
“Uncle Freddie,” Teddy said with amazement, his hand falling from the bass strings. “Are you Superman?”
Freddie looked confused for a moment before he looked down at his shirt, remembering the Superman logo emblazoned across the chest. He laughed and hunkered down to be at Teddy’s height.
“Unfortunately not,” he said. “But I am friends with him. He let me borrow this shirt for the show tonight.”
Teddy’s eyes widened. “You’re really friends with Superman?”
Freddie grinned, completely comfortable with showing his smile around his family. “Sure I am, darling. And he told me to tell you that you’d make an awfully good superhero too.”
Teddy fairly beamed at him. “I can play bass too, Uncle Freddie, and be a superhero.”
“You can?” Freddie asked, the excitement in his tone showing his love for the boy. “Go on and show me, then.”
Teddy looked up at his father. “Could we show Uncle Freddie?”
“Sure,” John said with a smile. “Go ahead and play on the bottom and I’ll play on the top.”
Teddy drew his hand over the strings, looking to Freddie for his approval. Freddie smiled at him and kissed his cheek, absolutely taken with the little boy.
“You’ve got a talent on your hands, haven’t you, Deaky?” Freddie said as he stood. He gave Teddy a wink. “Not even Superman can play bass as well as that.”
Teddy giggled. “Keep making the notes, daddy.”
John chuckled. “Alright, keep strumming and I’ll keep making the notes for you.”
You watched as your son continued to play with the bass slung low across his father’s chest, John creating a melody from it almost automatically even as his attention was drawn to you. You’d been watching the adorable scene from John’s chair that you’d claimed when you first came backstage, unable to keep from smiling as you saw your two favorite boys playing together. John smiled as he met your eyes, his own bright with happiness.
“How do we sound, Mrs. Deacon?” he asked.
You stood and came over to them, giving John a chaste kiss. “Best I’ve ever heard.”
Teddy looked up at you and grinned. “Do you hear me playing, mummy?”
You ruffled his curly brown hair, so like his father’s. “I do!” you said. “You and daddy sound lovely together.”
A knock sounded on the dressing room door; a moment later, Gerry, the boys’ tour manager, stuck his head in.
“Ready, lads?” he asked. “You’re on in ten.”
Teddy looked up at John. “You’re going to play?”
“It’s almost time,” John agreed. “You and mum are going to watch from backstage.”
“We could watch the whole show?” Teddy asked, alight with excitement. “With the lights and the explosions and everything?”
John laughed. “Explosions? Last time we tried to have explosions, Uncle Rog nearly got blasted right off stage.”
“We’re not repeating that experience, thank you very much,” Roger said, standing and tapping Teddy’s head lightly with one of his drumsticks. Teddy laughed and grabbed for it and Roger gave it to him, still twirling the remaining one.
“How do you do that, Uncle Rog?” Teddy wondered.
Roger grinned. “I’ll teach you sometime,” he said, adjusting the bandanna around his neck. “And your mum will get onto me for it.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you influenced my impressionable son, would it, Rog?” you teased.
Roger laughed. “Hey, he’s turned out alright. Besides, could you really have expected anything else?”
Teddy tugged on the hem of Roger’s shirt with his free hand, the other holding the drumstick in the middle, turning his wrist back and forth. “Like that?”
Roger chuckled. “Close. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“And then we’ll have drumsticks flying all over the place, won’t we?” Brian said. A look of worry crossed his face as Teddy drew his hand close to his chest at Brian’s approach, looking at the guitar he held with a near fearful reverence.
“What is it?” Brian asked.
“Mummy said I’ve got to be very careful with Red Special,” Teddy said in a hushed voice. “I don’t want to hit it.”
Brian gave a soft laugh. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks for being careful. You can play it sometime if you want.”
Teddy gasped. “Really?”
“Sure,” Brian said. “Next time you come with daddy to the studio, I’ll show you how to play some, hm?”
Teddy grinned, but his reply broke off into delighted laughter as Freddie scooped him up from behind and kissed his cheek.
“Come on, you,” he said, making his way towards the door. “Let’s go see how many people are in the audience.”
“Do you think there’s hundreds?” Teddy asked, his little arms circling Freddie’s neck.
“Thousands, even,” Roger said, following them.
Teddy’s head popped over Freddie’s shoulder. “You coming, Uncle Bri?”
Brian chuckled. “Right behind you, little bear.”
Roger threw a smirk towards you and John. “You two behave; I know Deaky’s fast, but he’s not that fast.”
“Roger Taylor,” you said, playfully aghast. Having been with John for ten years now, eight of them happily married, you were more than used to the affectionate teasing that came with being friends with the boys as close to you and John as brothers. When Teddy was born, you’d never actually had a discussion about what your son would call the boys; they’d been his uncles from the time he could talk, and they loved him as if he was their own flesh and blood. You were so thankful for the way your little boy had grown up and would continue to grow up always knowing he was loved. Roger, Freddie, and Brian were family, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.
But with family came endless ribbing, of course, especially from Roger. You stuck your tongue out at him and he did the same as he followed Freddie and Brian out towards the backstage proper, leaving you and John alone in the dressing room.
“I dunno,” John said. He stepped closer to you, a grin playing on his face. “Maybe we ought to try and prove Roger wrong, what do you think?”
You bit your lip, unable to help entertaining the thought for a second. He did look awfully handsome in that light blue.
“Tempting,” you said. You tugged on the lapel of his black leather jacket.
“Tell me about it,” he teased. He put his hand on the bass to keep it from bumping you as he leaned down to kiss you, a little less chastely than he would have if you hadn’t been alone. You couldn’t help a sigh as he nipped at your bottom lip, his pre-show energy evident in his body language.
“Mmh, John,” you said against his mouth. “We can’t.”
He breathed a laugh. “No?”
You tangled your fingers in his curls despite yourself. “No, you’re on in five minutes.”
He took you by the chin and gave you one last kiss, quick and cheeky. He grinned as he pulled back.
“How would you feel about revisiting this after the show?” he asked. “It’s been a while since we’ve made a mess of a dressing room.”
You wiped a smudge of your lip gloss from his mouth, smiling as he kissed your fingers.
“Too long, really,” you said. The two of you used to be positively wild at shows, fast and hungry before with nervousness and excitement, or lazy and languid in coming down from the adrenaline high afterwards. More than once had the boys caught you going at it, but the novelty of the backstage dressing room was too good to pass up. You’d only started to give it up when Teddy was born, because you’d started going to less shows and at the ones you did go to you usually had Teddy in tow.
“Who’ll we put on babysitting duty tonight?” John asked.
“Who cares?” you joked. “The boys should be able to handle him for a few minutes between the three of them, don’t you think?”
John smirked. “Who said anything about a few minutes? We’ve got to make up for lost time, Mrs. Deacon.”
“I’m with you all the way, honey, I really am,” you said, trying to keep yourself in check. “But you’re about to be making up for lost concert time if you don’t get out there.”
He groaned. “Ugh, fine, if you insist. You go ahead of me, though.”
You gave him a suspicious frown. “Why?”
“No reason,” he said easily. “I just rather enjoy the view.”
“You’re incorrigible, you know?”
He grinned and gave you a kiss. “Ah, but you like me like that, don’t you?”
You pushed him away even as you smiled. “Don’t push your luck, Deacon.”
He followed you out of the dressing room, no doubt enjoying the view like he said he would. As you came to the curtained area just off stage, though, his attention was quickly drawn to his son barreling full-speed at him.
“There’s hundreds and hundreds of people, daddy!” Teddy said excitedly, skidding to a halt just in front of his father.
“Yes, they’re rather loud, aren’t they?” John asked, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
“You’re going to be even louder, aren’t you?” Teddy asked gleefully.
John smiled. “We’ll certainly try.”
“Alright, boys,” Gerry told them. “At the thunder, you’re good to go.”
You remembered that John had warned you they were using thunder sounds to usher in the first song, a bit worried that it might scare Teddy.
Gerry motioned to the other side of the stage. “Roger, Brian, places please.”
They gave their bandmates one final grin as they headed around to the other side of the stage they would enter from. Freddie and John looked to each other, the energy palpable between them colored by the little bit of nervousness that they would never completely shake even if they performed to crowds like this a thousand more times. They were ready.
“Say bye to daddy,” you said, gently guiding Teddy closer to you. “It’s time for them to play!”
Teddy obeyed and wrapped his arms around your leg, the noise of the crowd a little frightening for him, despite how excited he was. You had no doubt that he’d been clinging to Freddie the entire time you and John had been backstage; hopefully he’d warm up a little as the concert started.
You took John’s face in your hands and kissed him. “Good luck, sweetheart. Show those kids what real bass playing is.”
John grinned. “That’s the plan. I love you.”
You smiled. “I love you too.”
“See you in a bit, buddy,” John said, ruffling his son’s curls as he walked over to join the Freddie at the edge of the stage. You watched your husband walk out on stage to meet his brothers, all smiles and energy as they were greeted with a wave of noise that could only be described as ecstatic. You picked Teddy up and held him on your hip; suddenly the sound of crashing thunder echoed through the arena, making Teddy jump. You gave a sympathetic laugh and held him closer.
“It’s ok, baby, it’s just the sound,” you said. “Look, daddy’s going up on the steps close to Uncle Roger.” You pointed to John’s unmistakable figure standing squarely on the steps of the drum risers, wanting to anchor Teddy with something he would find exciting rather than scary. A rainbow of lights swept up the stage, catching in the theatrical smoke; after another of the artificial peals of thunder and the accompanying rise in volume from the audience, you heard the familiar wail of the Red Special as Brian began to play.