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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.

Chapter Text

“That’s Uncle Brian!” Teddy told you, his face lighting up as Brian began playing the opening chords to “We Will Rock You”. Teddy’s smile only got broader as Roger set in on the drums, quickly followed by John’s bassline and Freddie’s vocalizations as he played with the crowd.

“Where’s daddy?” Teddy asked, craning his neck to see through the smoke and flashing lights.

“Right there,” you said, finding him off the drum risers already. If there was one thing that could be counted on during a Queen concert, it was that your husband couldn’t stand to stay in the same place for more than a few seconds. Freddie gallivanted across the stage very noticeably, but if you took your attention from John for a second, he’d be off somewhere else before you noticed he was gone. It had always been something that amused you about him, and Teddy hadn’t yet figured out that there really was no telling where his father would be on stage at any given moment.

When John did find a place to settle for a moment, he’d more than make up for his lack of distance traveled across the stage by dancing. As soon as Freddie started singing, John was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his playing perfectly in time as his whole body moved along to the beat.

“Mud on your face, big disgrace!” Teddy sang with Freddie, his fear of the noise quickly overcome by one of the songs he’d known by heart since he was old enough to talk. He wriggled in your arms to be set down and you obliged, watching him with a smile on your face as he danced and sang every word. He danced just like his father, bending at the knees, jumping and kicking to the beat.

You looked back up as they transitioned to playing “Let Me Entertain You”, seeing John hop from one foot to the other on the drum riser steps. Watching him dance on stage never failed to make you smile like it had done the very first time you’d seen him perform, back when they were still playing pubs. You’d taken to calling him your “bouncy boy”, endeared to the way he put his heart and his body into every single song they played.

No one had prepared you for how easily your heart would be stolen by another bouncy boy, a little replica of his father down to the bob of his copper brown curls as he danced. If you’d thought John couldn’t keep still to save his life, Theodore Taylor Deacon was ten times worse. Between the two of them they were never lost for energy, always fiddling with something and unable to stay still. Though some days it was a little hard to keep up with them, moments like this reminded you that you wouldn’t have changed your two bouncy boys for the world.

You watched them happily, Teddy’s adorable laughter at the sheer energy of the concert mingling with the sound of the songs that never failed to amaze you in their beauty and intensity. At some point John stepped off stage to take off his jacket, tossing it to you without really taking his attention from the stage where Freddie was talking to the audience. You didn’t mind, knowing he was in his concert mindset and very little could pull him from it. You caught his jacket and folded it neatly over your arm, happy to help everything go as smoothly for John as you could.

“Can I wear daddy’s jacket?” Teddy asked. You breathed a laugh as you took a look at him, his hair damp with sweat, breathing heavily from his dancing.

“You sure?” you asked. It was always hot backstage even if you weren’t skipping around the whole square footage of it, and you could feel the warmth of John’s body heat still on his jacket. “Might get a little warm.”

“Just for a minute,” he pressed.

You held the jacket open for him, smiling to yourself as his hands didn’t even reach halfway through the sleeves. The hem was nearly on the ground but Teddy didn’t seem to mind, beaming up at you as he waved a sleeve.

“Do I look like daddy?” he asked.

You felt such adoration for him you thought your heart might burst. “Yes, you do,” you told him. “Just like daddy.”

Teddy grinned and continued to dance, albeit a little slower with the weight of the jacket and the relative calmness of “Killer Queen” that they were playing at the moment. Suddenly, at the end of Brian’s solo, the stage went black; Teddy’s yelp of panic quickly turned to a gasp of delight as he recognized the transition to his very favorite Queen song.

“The machine of a dream!” he sang at the top of his voice as the stage lights flashed back on, his high voice blending with Roger’s raspy vocalization. You could tell Roger was tired; he’d been drumming his heart out as he always did, and drumming and singing at the same time was hard work. You made a mental note to tell Roger how excited Teddy had been to sing along with him, knowing it would make Roger smile.

The stage went black again as the crowd applauded Roger’s drum solo. Green lights dimly lit the stage and you felt a flutter of excitement in your chest as you knew what came next; sure enough, the deep twang of John’s bass strings delivered the first notes of “Get Down, Make Love” and you felt your mind wandering to your post-concert plans with your husband.

As if reading your mind, John looked over towards you as blue lights joined the green on stage, giving you a wink as he played the four notes you’d never been able to associate with anything other than being absolutely wild for your husband since the first time he’d recorded them. The song never failed to put you and John in the mood, and you’d drunkenly confessed that to Freddie one night at a party only to be met by Freddie’s delighted laughter. “That was the intended effect, darling,” he’d said. “I’m glad to know it works.”

It worked, alright; that much you could say for sure, biting your lip as you watched how John moved his hips against his bass and studied how his long fingers danced across the strings. You would have spent the whole song with John holding your rapt attention had it not been for Teddy wrapping his arms around your leg, clinging to you again as the song slowly dissolved into the eerie noise used on the studio version. The main lights went off and stayed off, only the glow of the now slightly sinister rainbow lights traveling over the stage giving it light. You picked Teddy up and held him close, bundled in John’s jacket, rocking him gently as you kissed his forehead. You had to admit that it was a bit unsettling, even for you, as the ghostly wail of the Red Special echoed through the dark.

“It’s kind of scary, mummy,” Teddy said in a small voice, his face buried in your neck to hide from the dark.

You patted his back soothingly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just Uncle Brian and Red Special.”

“Where’s daddy?” Teddy asked.

“He’s okay,” you assured him, knowing he was worried. “He’s still on stage. The lights will come on in a minute and you’ll be able to see him.”

A moment later a whistle sounded, Roger coming in strong on the drums to bring the song to its rocking finish. The white lights came back on and you were immediately met by the sight of John bouncing and swiveling on his feet.

“There’s your daddy right there,” you said to Teddy. “See?”

Teddy lifted his head and nodded, the color returning to his face as he saw John was perfectly fine and in fact having a great time. If John was okay and thought it was a good time to dance, then everything must be alright.

Teddy seemed to need a little bit more time to get settled from that fright, though; you trusted your maternal instinct and continued to pat his back to soothe him like you had since he was a baby, holding him close and letting him rest his head on your shoulder again. Thankfully the next song was slow; Brian played piano and you rocked Teddy in time with his playing. You sang along with Freddie, singing “Save Me” like a lullaby to your little boy.

By the time Freddie started playing with the audience after the next song, Teddy was back to his usual exuberant self and happily joined in with the audience’s part of the call and response. You set him down and he mimicked Freddie in his wild gesticulations, the sleeves of John’s jacket flapping adorably with every movement.

The rest of the concert continued without incident, Teddy every bit as invested as the audience through the remaining hour of the show. You had to hold him back from rushing at Freddie when he came backstage after “Tie Your Mother Down”, knowing Freddie was only popping back very quickly to change into a pair of shorts before the next song. Though Freddie didn’t have time to hug and talk to Teddy like you knew both would have liked, he did give Teddy a smile and encourage him to keep dancing as he went back onstage.

Teddy did as Freddie said, dancing his little heart out until the very last song. He looked up at you as the strains of “God Save the Queen” echoed through the arena, recognizing it as the traditional end to Queen’s concert sets.

“Is that the end, mummy?” he asked. You could barely hear him over the incredibly loud but well-deserved cheers and applause as the boys made their final bows.

“That’s the end,” you agreed. “Look, here they come now.”

Teddy turned when you gestured to the stage, his expression lighting up as his father and his uncles made their way offstage towards him. He took off like a shot towards his father, wrapping his arms around John’s leg. John stepped back a step to steady himself, a little surprised at the greeting, moving his bass out of the way so it wouldn’t hit Teddy.

“How was it?” John asked, a smile playing on his features as he looked down at his boy.

“Amazing!” Teddy gushed. “I was dancing with you the whole time, and it was so loud, and you played so many songs, daddy!”

“Don’t I know it,” John agreed with a chuckle. “You’ve got my jacket, I see.”

Teddy flapped the sleeves for effect. “It’s too big for me.”

John laughed outright. “I think you’re right. Come on, let’s go see mum.”

John pulled the strap of the bass over the head, handing the instrument to Ratty to be put away. He guided Teddy with a protective touch to his shoulder, steering him towards you, and you couldn’t help but smile at your two favorite boys.

“Fancy seeing you here,” John said, drawing close to you. You could tell from his voice alone that he was tired; you ran your hand up and down his arm in an effort to soothe.

“I was off with my boyfriend,” you teased. “But I ditched him to come see you.”

He grinned. “As any proper groupie should do. I’d expect nothing less from the girl who’s been coming to my shows for as long as you have.”

Teddy looked up at the two of you. “What’s a groupie?”

You met each other’s eyes, amusement and surprise warring for dominance as you tried to think of what to say in answer. Thankfully you were rescued by Roger, who scooped Teddy up and set him on his shoulders.

“You’ll learn all about what groupies are when you’re older, little rock ‘n roll man,” Roger said. Teddy was happy to forget it in favor of chattering on about how loudly he’d sung “I’m in Love With My Car”, which brought a huge grin to Roger’s face as he listened. Roger took Teddy over to see Brian and Freddie at his request, giving you and John a moment’s peace from your energetic little boy.

“How was it?” you asked him. It had seemed perfect from your end, but you knew there was an added layer of perspective John had from actually performing.

“Good, yeah,” he said. “No major hiccups, no broken strings or anything like that. What did you think?”

You smiled. “I thought it was great. ‘Get Down, Make Love’ scared Teddy a bit, but other than that we both loved it.”

John gave you a knowing smirk. “Oh yeah? And what did you think of ‘Get Down, Make Love’, Mrs. Deacon?”

“Other than it making me jealous of your bass?” you ask, giving him a coy smile. “Between your hips and your fingers, I couldn’t help but wish you were playing me instead.”

You twined your fingers with his and give him a kiss; though he responded as he always did in leaning closer to your touch, you could tell he wasn’t nearly as passionate as you were. You pulled back and took his hand in both of yours, noticing the slight tremor there. He was always a bit shaky after shows as he came down from the adrenaline high, and you gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Tired?” you asked.

His grimace was apologetic. “Kind of, sorry. I know we had plans.”

“That’s ok, honey,” you assured him gently. Truth be told you were tired too, and though you could have gladly gone a few rounds in the dressing room if he’d been up for it, you were also perfectly happy to take him home and let the three of you get some rest. “It’ll make next time even better. Let’s get Teddy and head home, how does that sound?”

He gave a sigh of relief. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

You gave him a chaste kiss and brushed his sweat-dampened curls back from his face, smiling up at him as you kept your hand in his and looked over to where Brian, Freddie, and Roger were all watching Teddy demonstrate his dance moves. For three rock ‘n rollers, they always melted the instant Teddy came around and showed their true natures as the huge softies they were at heart. Freddie gave a delighted laugh as Teddy mimicked a signature Mercury move.

“Perfect,” Freddie said. “Better than I do it, even.”

Teddy beamed under the love and attention of his uncles; even though he was shy by nature, just like his father, he was completely at home with Roger, Brian, and Freddie. You leaned closer to John and he put his arm around your waist as you watched the people you loved most in the world.

Teddy yawned and rubbed the too-long sleeve of John’s jacket over his face. “Red Special didn’t sound like a guitar, Uncle Brian.”

Brian chuckled as he picked Teddy up and held him close to his chest. “What did she sound like?”

Teddy rested his head on Brian’s collarbone. “She sounded like a ghost one time and it was scary.”

“Oh no,” Brian said, giving a sympathetic laugh. “I think I know which song you’re talking about. I’m sorry it scared you, little bear.”

Brian had called Teddy “little bear” since the day he’d come to the hospital to see the newest addition to the Deacon family, shyly presenting an astronaut teddy bear as a gift for the baby. You hadn’t told anyone what you were naming your son - Roger firmly denied that it made him tear up to know he was the boy’s namesake, but you knew better - and it had seemed like fate that Brian had brought a teddy bear for him. Too nervous to hold him at first, Brian had tucked the bear next to Teddy in the hospital bassinet. Freddie had said how sweet it was to see the two little bears together, and Brian had taken the name to heart. From then on, Theodore Taylor Deacon had always been Brian’s “little bear”.

“It’s okay,” Teddy said. “It was only scary for a minute, but then Red Special sounded like Red Special again.”

“Good thing you reminded me not to tighten the strings too much, hm?”

Teddy smiled. “Good thing!”

As Teddy yawned again, you knew it was time to start heading home. Doubtless the boys had plans to go out and party like they usually did after shows, but for your five-year-old, bedtime had long since passed. You eased out of John’s hold and went over to Brian, taking your little boy from him.

“Say goodnight,” you said as he wrapped his arms around your neck.

“Goodnight,” Teddy said, giving his uncles a little wave. All three smiled and waved back.

“Night, Teddy,” Roger said.

“Thanks for coming to see us,” Freddie added.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Brian said.

Teddy nodded. “Okay.”

John came up behind you and put his arm around your waist. “Night, boys. You’re off to dance the night away, I presume?”

“Roger’s already got a date set up, haven’t you, Rog?” Freddie teased.

Roger grinned. “I have, thank you.”

“Freddie are going out to that club we saw last night,” Brian added. “See if we can’t drum up a little fun here in the lovely city of Montreal.”

John smiled. “Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Freddie laughed. “You stuck your hand through a plate-glass window, darling. I think it’s safe to say there’s very little you wouldn’t do.”

John chuckled. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Be safe. We’ll leave the door unlocked for you when you come in.”

“A gentleman, as always,” Roger teased. “What would we do without you?”

“Are you coming home soon, Uncle Rog?” Teddy asked, his voice soft with sleepiness.

Roger looked like he could have melted. “I might have a bit of a sleepover at my friend’s house, but Uncle Brian and Uncle Freddie will come home tonight. And I’ll come home tomorrow.”

“Can we play tomorrow?” Teddy asked.

“To your heart’s content, kiddo,” Roger promised. “So be good for mummy and daddy and get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Teddy agreed.

You shifted Teddy on your hip. “You remember the address?” you asked the boys.

All three of them recited the address of your grandparents’ summer home back to you.

“Let’s hope your memory stays intact when you’re drunk,” John teased.

“Call if you can’t remember it or get in some kind of trouble,” you reminded them, hearing your worried mom voice surface almost involuntarily. They smiled as they recognized your tone, one you’d used even before having Teddy as you fussed over the four of them.

“Will do,” Brian promised.

“Go on and get that baby into bed,” Freddie said. “He’s nearly asleep already.”

“Which one?” you joked. You knew he was referring to Teddy, but looking at your husband, you knew he was nearly as ready for bed as his son.

“You’re teasing, but he really does look dead on his feet,” Freddie said. He smiled at John. “Let your lady take you home, Deaky.”

John chuckled. “If you insist. Goodnight, all.”

“Goodnight,” they chorused back. You let John lead you back to the dressing room, his hand settled protectively on the small of your back as Teddy leaned his head on your shoulder.

Chapter Text

John held the dressing room door open for you and you crossed to where yours and Teddy’s jackets were draped over the back of the couch. You handed your already sleeping son to John in order to put your own coat on.

“Let me put his jacket on him,” you said.

“Oh, that’s ok,” John said, keeping his voice low. “He’s already got mine on, I don’t want to wake him.”

“You don’t want your jacket?” you asked.

John shrugged. “It’s not far to the car. I’ll be alright.”

As you often did, you felt a love for your husband that nearly took your breath away in its intensity. You draped Teddy’s small jacket over your arm and gave John a kiss.

“You’re a really good dad, John, you know that?” you said.

He smiled at you. “Only ‘cause I’ve got a really good mum helping me.”

His free hand found yours as you walked out of the dressing room together, heading the opposite way from the stage towards the back entrance of the arena and the parking garage. Snow fell gently onto the already-white streets outside the garage, the sounds of the departing crowd on the other side of the arena dulled by the otherwise quiet night. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way to the car you’d rented for your stay in Montreal.

You opened the door for him, getting in the front to start the car and get the heat running as John got Teddy into his car seat.

“Daddy?” Teddy said in a mild panic as John gently pried his arms from around his neck.

“Shh, it’s okay,” John soothed. “Just getting you in your car seat. It’s alright.”

Teddy nodded, snuggling further into John’s jacket as his head leaned against the side of the car seat. He was back asleep before John had even finished buckling him in.

“D’you want me to drive?” John asked you.

“That’s ok,” you said. You knew he was tired and had really only asked to be kind, not because he wanted to drive. You were perfectly happy to drive your two sleepy boys home.

“Besides,” you teased, “I’m the only one of us who’s actually driven on this side of the road.”

It had been ages, of course, but you’d learned to drive while you still lived in America and at least had a modicum of experience. John had managed to go his whole life, even through the international tours, without once driving on the right hand side of the road.

He chuckled. “Alright, Miss International, you’ve convinced me.”

He closed Teddy’s door and went around to the passenger seat, sighing heavily as he met the warm air pouring from the vents. He pressed his palm to the one nearest the door and let it warm up a little before rubbing his hands together.

“Here,” you said, handing him your jacket that you’d taken off, knowing it would quickly get too warm for you with both the heat and the winter coat on. He draped it over his chest, slouching in the seat.

“You’re an angel,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. You smiled as you started the drive home, mentally working backwards from your drive into town earlier in the day. Though you normally didn’t travel with John and the boys on their international tours, especially now that Teddy was in the picture, you’d decided to make a bit of a vacation out of their weekend concert dates in Montreal. You’d lived in London since starting college there at Imperial in ‘71, but you’d grown up in Maine and had spent summers at your grandparents’ lake house in the mountains outside Montreal. It had been years since you’d been back, and with the lake house empty for the winter months and only a little over an hour away from the city Queen was slated to play for a two-concert weekend, you’d decided on a whim to fly over with them. “The family” - as the boys’ families were collectively and affectionately referred to among the road crew - only rarely got to go with the boys on their international trips, so it was a bit of a treat to be able to go with them for the weekend this time.

As you drove the ever-quieting streets out of the city, you noticed a faint but relentless tapping noise coming from the passenger side of the car. You frowned, wondering if something was wrong with the car, but as you looked over at your husband you quickly realized what it was.

“John,” you said.

He straightened and looked over at you, his foot never faltering in its tapping against the floor mat. “Hm?”

You couldn’t help a gentle smile. Most of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it, and he’d made sure in the early days of your relationship that you knew you could always ask him to stop and he wouldn’t mind. “Tapping, baby.”

“Oh,” he said, stilling. He didn’t bother to apologize; you were allowed to ask him to stop and he was allowed to not apologize for something he couldn’t really help.

“You still feeling a little wired?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah. Can’t seem to settle.”

“Come here,” you said, patting your thigh. “Lay down and see if that helps.”

He gave a soft grunt as he stretched out as much as he could on the bench seat, resting his head in your lap and tucking your jacket tighter around him. “Don’t crash.”

You breathed a laugh. “I’ll try my best.”

You kept one hand on the wheel, comfortable with driving through the light snowfall, letting your other hand play with John’s soft curls. His breath warm through the fabric of your jeans, and he ran his hand lightly up and down your shin, his touch soothing and slow.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice gentle. 

You brushed your fingers over his cheek. “Me too.”

“You’re everything to me, you know?” he said, his voice muffled as he lay against you. “You and Teddy, you’re... you’re absolutely everything to me. I don’t know how I get through being away from you for so long.”

Though he’d been home for a month, they’d just gotten off a long tour that ended in a catastrophic string of concerts in South America that went exactly opposite to plan and had driven even your easygoing husband to distraction. 

“Me either,” you admitted. “Habit, I guess.”

He huffed. “I don’t want to have that habit.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Neither do I. But this one’s not so bad, it’s just the weekend. One more tomorrow night, and then you’re home again.”

“Yeah, for how long?” he said. “We’re gonna make another album and then we’re gonna tour again and it’s gonna go on forever.”

You hand stilled in brushing his curls back from his face, a little concerned at the bitterness in his tone.

“Honey...” You bit your lip. “Is everything ok?”

He sighed. “Yeah,” he said apologetically. “I’m just tired.”

Tired from the concert, tired from the tour, tired from being away from his family for months on end. You could understand that, and you didn’t blame him for venting some frustration.

“Sorry,” he ventured after a moment. “You’re just as affected by the tour as I am, and you’ve been nothing but cheerful.”

You felt a wry smile surface. “Maybe today, but I’ve had plenty of days where I was at my wit’s end about it. It’s ok to be frustrated with it, John. I don’t mind. You can talk about it if you want.”

He drew a deep breath as he turned onto his back, running his hand over his face. His wedding ring caught the pale light of the half-moon outside the window, giving a dull glint with his movements.

“Is this what you thought it would be like?” he asked.

You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, strong and steady as it always was. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Y’know,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “This. Being married to me. Having your life run by a band you didn’t even think was going anywhere when you first met us.”

“John Richard Deacon,” you said with a laugh. “I never said you weren’t going anywhere. In fact, I knew the first time I saw you play that you’d be famous.”

“Couldn’t have,” he said, though you could hear the teasing in his voice. “We didn’t even know what we were doing half the time.”

You shook your head. “Queen has always had that something special,” you said. “You were always going to be famous. You were always going to be international stars. You just had to find your footing first.”

He smiled. “Well, at least someone’s believed in us from the beginning,” he said. Then, after a moment, “But you must have pictured our life a bit differently back then, right? I mean, when I asked you to marry me, you weren’t saying yes to a member of the internationally famous band Queen. You were saying yes to an engineering student who played bass with his mates on weekends.”

You smiled fondly as you thought of that lanky young man, that shy nineteen-year-old with an unfamiliar accent and the sweetest grin you’d ever seen. You were in love with him the moment you met him, doing your homework during your friends’ band practice. That boy with soft brown curls who spoke louder on bass than he ever did with his own voice had won your heart with his first smile at you, introducing himself with his full name.

But as much as you loved that boy, you also loved the way John had changed over the years into the man he was now. Your husband, the father of your child, the bassist for one of the most famous bands worldwide. Steadier and more confident, wiser and only made kinder by the harshness of the world. You loved the changes the years had made in him, and you loved the changes your life had gone through from that spring day at Imperial College ten years ago. 

“It’s a bit mad, isn’t it?” he asked softly, entwining his fingers with yours. “It’s nothing like I thought it would be.”

You ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so. We’ve had a good life, haven’t we? We’ve traveled and met interesting people and we have the three best mates anyone could ask for. We made a beautiful little boy. We’ve gone to some wild parties and had fantastic sex in dressing rooms of dozens of cities.”

You laughed. “Yeah, that probably wouldn’t have happened if we lived in a cottage in Leicestershire and you worked a blue-collar job, now would it?”

“Ah, we would have found ways to spice things up, don’t you think?” he teased.

You smirked. You had no doubt that the two of you would have had as adventurous a sex life even if you’d ended up living quietly in the countryside.

“Sorry we didn’t get to mess around backstage,” he said, somewhat teasingly. Then, sobering, “I just wanted to be someplace quiet with you. Tours and concerts are always such a constant rush. I just... I dunno, wanted to be... like this, I guess.”

You softened as he brought your hand to his mouth and gently kissed your fingers. “I love being like this with you, John. It’s what I miss the most when you’re gone.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, that first cup of tea gets pretty lonely, doesn’t it? Even over the phone, it’s not the same.”

Your first “date” had been tea at Brian’s flat a week or so after John auditioned for Queen; he had come to go over a few things with Brian before the show that night. He wanted to get everything perfect but was shy about asking for help during rehearsals, especially in front of the cocky drummer who loved to take the mickey out of anybody, including his bandmates, be they old friends or brand-new members who weren’t familiar with Roger’s way of showing affection. Brian, sensing this, had kindly suggested that John come round to his flat in the morning, where they could work through whatever John wanted. 

You smiled to yourself at the memory, letting your mind wander to that morning over a decade ago.

Chapter Text

You had been Brian’s roommate at the time, both of you attending Imperial College London at various stages of your academic career. As considerate a flatmate as your the aspiring astrophysicist was, he’d forgotten to mention to you that he’d invited Queen’s new bassist over first thing in the morning. 

You’d stumbled out of bed when you heard the kettle being filled, the sound of Brian’s early morning tea-making a surer alarm than your own bedside clock since the day you’d moved in. You’d made it down the hall and to the bathroom when you realized that the shower was running already and that the soft humming coming from the kitchen wasn’t in Brian’s familiar voice. Stopped at the bathroom door and peeking around the corner into the kitchen, you bit your lip to keep an obscenity from tumbling out as you leaned back from the corner. 

Nope, that wasn’t Brian at all. You wouldn’t have minded walking out in your “Ringo for President” t-shirt and messy hair if it had just been your roommate - you’d been best friends for so long that he was practically your brother, and you’d long since stopped caring about looking presentable for him. But the new bass player - John Richard Deacon, you didn’t think you’d ever forget that introduction - was heart-stoppingly cute, and you’d wanted to make a good impression on him the next time you saw him. You were just about to make your retreat to your room to actually get dressed when the bathroom door opened; you took one step backwards and bumped into Brian, all dripping hair and lanky limbs and nothing but a towel around his waist.

“Hey,” he’d protested, pushing you forward a bit so you weren’t standing on his foot.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, unblushing at the slightly compromising situation you found yourself in, you with no bra and him with no clothes at all. There was nothing romantic or sexual between the two of you; though you’d nursed a latent crush on him in the early days of your friendship, living with him had made that a thing of the past. Not that you didn’t think Brian was good-looking or sweet or good fun to be around; you just knew that he’d make some other girl quite happy, and his friendship meant the world to you.

“Mind telling me why you’re just standing right at the doorway?” he asked, amused. Then, with a flicker of worry, “Did you need in? Sorry if I was taking too long.”

“No, you’re ok,” you said. “I just… ah, didn’t know we were having company.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, realizing. “I meant to tell you last night. We’re going over a few things before the show. I asked him to put on some tea and I told him you had a stash of Jammie Dodgers up in the cabinet.”

You frowned. “You’re not even supposed to know about those.”

Brian smirked. “You want me to go tell John that he can’t have any?”

“No,” you said quickly. “But next time, I’m telling him about your million-year-old brandy hidden behind that vase from your mother that you never use.”

He gave a melodramatic gasp. “That’s not even on the same level as Jammie Dodgers.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Brimi.”

“Fine, point taken.” He gave you a crooked smile. “You could go say hi, you know, instead of hiding out and arguing with me. He doesn’t bite. Unless you wanted him to, maybe.”

“Brian,” you scolded, feeling your cheeks flush. He only laughed. 

“Besides, I can’t go out there looking like this,” you insisted, your voice a little quieter for fear of John overhearing.

“No?” Brian teased, matching your tone. “Maybe he’s into the all-natural kind of thing.”

“Brian Harold May,” you said, smacking his arm and earning another laugh from him. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said with a grin. “But you should still go say hi.”

He crossed to his bedroom and shut the door behind him; you followed suit, putting a bra on and checking that your hair wasn’t a complete mess. You didn’t want this John Richard Deacon fellow to think that you were avoiding him, but you also didn’t want to be an absolute mess the first time you really talked to him. Satisfied, marginally, with your appearance, you went back out to the hallway and rounded the corner, making your way into the kitchen.

“Hi,” you ventured, giving a shy little wave even though he had his back to you. He turned to face you with the expression of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, his smile endearingly nervous. 

“Hi,” he said. “Sorry about - I mean - I couldn’t help but overhear, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I - ”

“Oh, that’s ok,” you assured him, feeling a little embarrassed. Which parts had he heard? “Brian and I aren’t masters of arguing quietly.”

“All the same, I’m sorry if it was a bit of a shock to see me in your kitchen so early,” he said, bashful. “I asked Brian if you were ok with it, and he said you would be. And that he’d let you know.”

“Well, no harm done,” you said, giving him a smile and hoping to ease his guilt. “If there’s one thing to know about Brian, it’s that he’s an absolute genius who would lose his head if it weren’t attached to him. He tends to be very scatterbrained.”

He smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll remember that for next time and ask you myself if it’s ok to come over.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a deep blush rose to his cheeks. “Not that I’m - I mean - sorry, that was - ” He gave a nervous laugh. “Awfully presumptuous of me.”

“No, you’re fine,” you said, endeared to him. “You don’t have to ask to come over here - Roger and Freddie are over here all hours, and now that you’re in the band, our home is your home too.”

“Oh,” he said softly, surprised. “That’s very kind. Thank you.” He looked down at his shoes, a well-loved pair of trainers. “I wouldn’t go giving me any special band privileges yet, though, I’ve only just auditioned.”

Trying to make him feel more at ease, you hopped up on the bar stool at the island, trying to give the impression that this was just a casual conversation and not the Spanish Inquisition. You leaned your elbows on the counter and propped your chin in your hand.

“Oh, I think you’re here to stay,” you said sincerely. “I’m no musical genius like you guys, but it sounded great to me at your audition. And the boys have said they think you’re really good.”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes alight and hopeful. “They have?”

You smiled. He really did have the loveliest features, all brightened and softened by this newfound excitement. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to have him look that way because of you, maybe because you decided to reach up on tiptoes and kiss him…

You blushed, shaking your head to clear it. Geez, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been absolutely doe-eyed over somebody like this, much less after only meeting him one time and then stumbling upon him in your kitchen at seven in the morning. You couldn’t help hiding behind your hands a bit, trying to conceal your deep blush.

“Yeah,” you said, remembering the question. “They really like your style. Roger was impressed that you got ‘Keep Yourself Alive’ right off the bat. That’s one of the ones he auditioned with, and it took him a few run-throughs to get it.”

John’s soft laugh was a little surprised. “Roger was impressed?”

You smiled. “Yeah, he was, and don’t let him get to you. He’s a jackass, but he’s really a sweetheart underneath all that.”

“Well… I’m looking forward to getting to know that side of him,” John said diplomatically, drawing a laugh from you. You couldn’t help but notice the way he smiled when you laughed, and you felt you’d like to make him smile like that all the time.

The kettle began its familiar whistle and John turned to take it off the stove, filling two mugs with hot water before replacing it on the eye.

“Tea’s up in the cabinet to your left,” you said. “Though Brian probably told you that. Help yourself to whatever kind you like - we have kind of an eclectic collection.”

“I’m really plain when it comes to tea,” he admitted. “I usually go for Lady Grey or something equally unexciting.”

“Lady Grey’s my favorite, actually,” you said with a smile. “That should be up on top.”

He took two teabags out of the box and fixed your mugs, spooning some sugar into yours at your request and adding milk to both. He handed your mug to you and you cradled it with both hands, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. 

“Thank you for making tea,” you said. “I wouldn’t have made you make tea - I mean, you’re the guest, after all - but my skill for being a hostess has never quite rubbed off on Brian. So I apologize on his behalf.”

“Oh, you don’t need to,” John said, a little embarrassed. “I don’t mind. Did I make yours alright?”

You took a sip. “Perfect,” you told him.

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both of you sipping at your tea, the sunlight growing brighter as it filled your tiny flat. You had the feeling that you would be content to spend every morning like this, sharing tea with John Richard Deacon.

“So, John,” you said. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked up at you and gave you a gentle smile. “Of course.”

You bit your lip. “What do you do in real life?”

You could tell from the sound of his laugh that you’d caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like, not in the band.”

“Oh,” he said, his smile still lingering. “Um, I study electrical engineering at university. Not that exciting.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “You must know lots of fun things. Do you like studying it?”

“Very much, actually,” he said. “It’s always been a hobby of mine since I was a kid, and it’ll suit me just fine for my living. Actually, I’ve been hoping to get a closer look at Brian’s guitar and ask him about how he wired it.”

“Oh, he’ll talk with you about Red Special to your heart’s content,” you said. “And probably past that. Seriously, don’t be afraid to ask him about it. He’ll talk your ear off.”

“Who’ll talk whose ear off?”

Both you and John looked over to the doorway, seeing Brian come in.

“You’re going to talk John’s ear off about the Red Special,” you clarified. “He’s interested in how it’s wired.”

“Are you really?” Brian asked excitedly.

John smiled. “Yeah, I’d love to know how you built it. It’s fantastic, and that sound is so unique.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Brian said, his cheeks pinking a little. He busied himself making himself some tea, John politely moving out of the way of Brian’s gangly limbs. 

“Y/N’s right,” Brian said. “I’ll babble on ‘til you’re begging me to stop. But you’re more than welcome to take a look at her.”

John’s gaze flickered to you. “H-her?”

You blushed and Brian chuckled. “Oh, sorry, I meant Red Special. My one and only. I don’t have any say in who takes a look at Y/N.”

Your flush deepened. “Bri,” you warned. You looked over to John. “Sorry about him, he’s - ”

“Just teasing,” Brian supplied with a grin. “As she knows.” He tugged on a curl that had come loose from your bun. “But enough about you two, you’ve got me started on my guitar, and I’m not going to stop anytime soon. Come on, John, give me your professional electrical engineer opinion.”

John gave you a sweet smile as he made to follow Brian to the living room. “It was lovely having tea with you,” he said.

You returned his smile. “You too, John Richard Deacon.”

He chuckled at the reminder of how he’d introduced himself. “Maybe we could have tea again, before our next show.”

You grinned. “I’d like nothing better.”

Chapter Text

You did have tea again the morning of Queen’s next show, and from there it started a tradition of show-morning dates at your flat or his or this lovely little cafe you’d found on your wanderings around the city together. Eventually your pre-show morning tea took place at your shared flat, and it had been something that had endured throughout your marriage. When Queen started touring and you and John were apart, you did your best to work around time zone differences; you’d stayed awake late and gotten up early just to be there with the kettle on as soon as the phone rang. It was inevitable that some dates had to be skipped, of course, due to bad connections or sick babies or sudden schedule changes. It was those times that you felt the weight of your distance most of all. 

Your shared tea this morning had been the first in a long time that you’d actually been able to have it in person before a show. Gone were the days of pub shows and university concerts around London, but as much nostalgia as you had for those days, you were much more proud of how well Queen had done and the part your husband had played in their success. 

“Brian really shouldn’t have made you make tea,” you told him, your soft voice breaking the silence in the car.

He chuckled. “Thought you might’ve taken a trip down memory lane,” he said affectionately. “And it doesn’t surprise me that you’re still hung up on that, even now. But it didn’t bother me, sweetheart. I was just relieved that I made yours the way you liked it.”

You smiled. “It was lady grey with a spoon of sugar and some milk, John,” you said. “How could you have gotten it wrong?”

“I was more nervous making your tea than I’d ever been in my entire life,” he said. “I thought, ‘god, if I don’t manage to make her tea just like she likes, that’ll be the end of it. She’ll hate me.’”

You laughed. “You’re so melodramatic.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and you had me absolutely shaking with nerves.”

You felt yourself blush a little, his innocent sweetness still able to make you feel like it had when you were young and in your first flush of love.

“And, just for the record, I do like the all-natural thing.”

Your blush deepened. From sweet to raunchy in the space of a heartbeat, and you wouldn’t have had him any other way.

“You heard that whole conversation?”

He laughed. “You did admit that you and Brian weren’t good at arguing quietly. You’re still not. But yes, I heard the whole thing.”

“What about when you thought Brian was inviting you to take a look at my wiring?” you teased.

“He nearly gave me a heart attack,” he said with a wry smile. “Though I must say…”

He turned on his side and pressed a kiss to your thigh, running his fingers lightly against the seam of your jeans. “Your wiring is the most pleasurable thing I’ve ever studied in my long and storied career as an electrical engineer.”

You sucked in a breath, surprised at your response to his touch. Maybe you’d been looking forward to your backstage activities more than you’d thought.

“John.”

“Hm?”

You reached down and put your hand over his, stilling his movements. “Save it for when we’re not driving on an icy road in the middle of the night.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment and you worried you’d offended him, but a second later you could feel a grin spread over his face. His shoulders shook with laughter as he tried to keep quiet for your son’s sake.

He pushed himself up and sat next to you. “God, do I love you.”

Your smile was a bit bashful as he kissed your cheek.

“Probably a bit cold to pull over and show you just how much, yeah?” he said, only half-teasing.

You laughed. “With Teddy in the backseat?”

“We’ll just tell him we’re working on getting a new baby brother or sister.”

Your breath caught in your chest. A new baby? Could you have heard him right?

“Turn’s coming up, love,” he said, seemingly oblivious to the effect his words had had on you. You pulled into the driveway of the lakehouse, the headlights shining through the gently falling snow and casting circles on the front porch.

You put the car in park and turned to face your husband. “Did you mean that?”

He looked a little bemused. “Mean what?”

You bit your lip. “What you said about… getting Teddy a new brother or sister.”

His expression suddenly turned a bit nervous, his hand going to the back of his neck like it always did when he was uneasy.

“Oh, um… I dunno. I mean, only if you want, of course, but I’ve…” He met your eyes, bashful and wary as if he were asking for the moon and more. “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

You felt a heady mix of relief and joy wash over you. “Me too, John. I’ve been thinking about it too. For… well, for a while now.”

“You have?” he asked, surprised. “For how long? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You could have laughed at how nervous the two of you were, like teenagers about to try fooling around for the first time. This was your husband, the man you’d known and loved for years - why were you so worried to talk about this with him?
You shook your head. “I just thought… I don’t know, I guess I thought you might get angry or something. If I brought it up.”

A shade of distress colored his expression. “Angry? Why, what on earth for? How could I be angry?”

“You always say how hard it is to be away from Teddy,” you said, the words tumbling from you, unable to stop them now that you were finally talking about it. “I know how hard it is for you, and I thought you wouldn’t want to have more kids so you wouldn’t have to go through that more than you already have to. I thought you wouldn’t want another baby.”

John didn’t say anything right away; he carded his hand through his hair, and you knew he was thinking of what to say. That was something you had always loved and admired about him: he took his time to say what he meant. He rarely went off half-cocked about anything, and his words were intentional. 

He took a breath and met your eyes, taking both of your hands in his.

“It is hard to be away from Teddy,” he said. “It’s the hardest thing in the world to be away from my son, and it’s just as hard to be away from his mother, too. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want more kids with you, love.”

He smiled at you so tenderly it nearly took your breath away.

“I love you more than you could possibly know. I love our son more than life itself. Even if it’s hard, nothing would please me more than to have more babies with you.”

You felt the sting of tears, good tears of happiness and relief. “Really?”

He cradled your cheek in his hand and kissed you.

“Really,” he said, when you came up for air. He rested his forehead against yours and bumped your noses together affectionately. “As many as you like.”

You gave a watery laugh. “Let’s just try for one, for the time being.”

He chuckled. “Suits me just fine, love.”

You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin as he laughed, the smoldering desire you’d felt all night sparking into a fire again at the pure adoration you felt for the man you’d been so lucky to marry.

“Maybe… we could start trying tonight?” he ventured.

You grinned and threw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He caught you against him; you could feel his smile against your lips.

“Take that as a yes,” he said breathlessly when you finally pulled back. 

“I’m all yours, Mr. Deacon,” you said with a flirtatious smile.

He bit his lip as he looked at you. “You drive me mad, woman, you know that?”

He gave you a quick kiss and got out of the car to get Teddy from the backseat. You took your jacket and Teddy’s inside, turning on the porch light against the darkness. The house was freezing; you went to the thermostat to turn the heat up a bit. You heard John take Teddy into the bedroom Teddy had picked out when you first got here, declaring his claim on both levels of the bunk bed. You smiled at the memory, knowing John would tuck his son into the bottom bunk tonight.

You ventured into the master bedroom, hearing the heat come on through the house. More for coziness than for warmth, you knelt at the fireplace and lit the kindling under the logs John had set up for you that morning. In no time you had a cheery fire crackling away, giving a cozy light to your otherwise dark bedroom.

“Teddy didn’t even wake up when I put him in bed,” John said, coming into your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes where yours lay by the door. “Did you have him do some extra laps around backstage to tire him out?”

You smiled and stood, letting yourself be held as John put his hands to your hips and drew you close to him. “He was dancing with you the whole concert,” you said. “Between that and singing at the top of his lungs, it’s no wonder he’s all tuckered out.”

“Maybe we’ll get to have a bit of a lie-in tomorrow, hm?” John said with a smile, splaying his hand over the small of your back. “If Teddy won’t be up with the sun.”

“Even if he is, I’m sure Uncle Brimi would love some early morning company,” you joked. Brian was a bit of a wonder in that regard; no matter how late he stayed up, he could always be counted on to be up earlier than all the rest of you.

John grinned. “Works for me.” Then, like a kid eager to get his hands on a new toy, he scooped you up with his hands under your thighs. Startled, you hooked your legs around his waist and held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Easy, sweetheart,” John teased. “I’m not gonna let you fall.”

You relaxed and kissed him, practically glowing as he held you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your hands went from his strong, steady shoulders to his face, framing the features you knew and loved so deeply. He smiled up at you, looking at you like he’d never seen anything more lovely; as you often did, you realized anew how privileged you were to be loved by him.

“I believe it’s time to take your wife to bed, Mr. Deacon,” you teased gently.

He grinned. “That time already? If you say so, love.”

He walked the two of you over to the bed, easing you down until you lay on your back on the patchwork quilt. You kept your legs hooked around him and enjoyed the view as he pulled that lovely blue shirt off, revealing the much lovelier sight of your husband’s skin in the firelight, all golden and warm and begging to be kissed.

“Quit ogling me like that,” he laughed.

You smiled and sat up, hooking your thumbs in the loopholes of his deliciously tight jeans that hugged low on his hips. “Could it be that I’m making the famous John Deacon blush?”

He honest to god giggled at that, and if you thought you couldn’t adore your husband any more than you already did, you were proven wrong. His smile was like the sun, beautiful and pure, as he took your face in his hands and kissed you tenderly.

“I love you,” he said. “And I intend to spend the whole night showing you just how much I love you.”

His hands wandered to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head before unclasping your bra with the ease of a man who’d been doing the same movement to the same bra for a long time. He kissed you again before he eased you back down; you stretched languidly under his gaze and felt heat pool between your legs as he looked over you.

“Lovely thing,” he praised, his voice low and gentle and full of desire. “I could look at you for hours.”

Leaning on his hands on either side of you, he hovered over you and kissed down your neck, sucking at your collarbone before lavishing his kisses on your breasts. You carded you hands through his hair as his warm mouth sent flames licking through you, up from the steady burn of desire that had settled low between your hips. He tugged at the waistband of your jeans, pulling them off you one-handed while his other at your back lifted your hips to his. You could feel him through his jeans, already hard and ready for you.

You could hear how his breath caught in his chest as he pulled your panties off and tossed them aside with the rest of your clothes. You did blush then, unable to help a swell of pride at the effect you had on him.

“Do me a favor,” he said breathlessly.

You looked up at him as you lay back on the bed. “Depends on the favor,” you teased.

He tore his eyes away from your heat for a moment to meet your eyes. “Only if you want to, but… how would you feel about touching yourself for me?”

You felt a rush of heat. “You want to see?” you said, batting your eyelashes and playing coy, trying to disguise how eager you were to give him what he wanted.

He swallowed. “Y-yeah.”

You gave him a pleased smirk. “You put on such a good show for me tonight,” you purred. “I think it’s only fair that I give you a good show in return.”

“Fair’s fair,” he agreed in a choked voice.

You slowly spread your legs on either side of him, trying your best to keep yourself in check and ease your way to the center of your desire. Your hands trailed over your breasts, up your thighs, building the delicious tension in your whole body. You wished it was John’s hands on you instead of your own; god knows you’d had too many nights when your hands had to be a meager substitute, working as best they could in tandem with his voice over the phone. But he wanted it, and you would do nearly anything he wanted, and it wouldn’t matter for long anyway. The way he was already looking near to undone, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you for long.

“You know who I think of when I touch myself?” you asked, your voice silky with pleasure. Your hands reached your heat and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“Tell me, beautiful,” he said, his voice steadier even as his breathing grew more ragged. Though John’s dominant side was a thing to behold, you knew you had always had the power to unravel him completely.

Your fingers dipped between your folds, warm and wet at the sound of his voice. “Oh,” you gasped. You looked up at see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I think of you.”

You drew your fingers up to your clit, letting your desire take over and rubbing deep, fast circles against it. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hips rose to meet your hands, your legs spreading wider. John gave a sinful groan and you arched your back in pleasure, the sound of it making the heat in your belly curl tighter and closer to the edge.

“Ah, fuck, John,” you breathed. You could feel your orgasm steadily building, your legs shaking as you continued to pleasure yourself. 

“Wait, wait,” he panted. You felt his hand over yours, big and warm and calloused, as he drew your fingers away from your heat. You gave a frustrated cry at the loss of contact, hips moving of their own accord to continue the friction you so craved. 

“John,” you whined. 

“I know, my lovely,” he said breathlessly, palming himself though his jeans. “You were close, weren’t you?”

Since he’d learned to tell if you were close to the edge in the early days of your relationship, edging and teasing you had earned a high-ranking spot in his favorite things to do in bed. You were usually game, but you’d been wanting him since before the concert, and you were in no mood to be teased tonight.

“No teasing,” you said petulantly.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he said, his voice rough. “I only wanted to have you cum on my fingers instead of yours, even as pretty as yours are, but if you don’t want to - ”

You grabbed his wrist and pressed his hand to cover your heat, letting out a choked moan at the feel of him.

“That’s a yes, then?” he said. His fingers drew a stripe between your folds and he groaned.

“Christ, love, you’ve worked yourself into a state, haven’t you?” he gasped. “You’re soaked.”

Your hips bucked against his hand as his fingers barely even touched your clit, already a live wire with desire, his barest touch making your head spin.

“Easy, easy,” he said. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

He hovered over you again, leaning on his forearm next to you, his fingers in your hair, showering your face with kisses. You dug your fingers into his shoulders as his other hand began its skilled exploration of your heat.

“Fuck,” you said, gasping with pleasure as he pushed a finger into you. “John, please.”

He set a steady pace, easing another finger in, the callouses on his fingers from playing bass making you dizzy with pleasure as he played you. Needy, high-pitched moans tumbled from your mouth in time with his movements, your thighs squeezing around his wrist as you came quickly to the edge.

“Gonna cum, John,” you keened as he curled his fingers in a come-hither motion inside you. “John - Jesus, John, right there. Please, I’m gonna - ”

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he said. “Cum on my fingers, show me how good I make you feel.”

“Oh god,” you moaned, waves of pleasure tearing through you as he brought you over the edge. You sighed against his mouth, holding tight enough to his shoulders to leave bruises. He rubbed your clit through your orgasm, drawing it out as long as he could; your whole body trembled with the aftershocks that seemed to go on for a whited-out eternity.

“Fuck,” you gasped, the stars slowly fading from your vision as the last shocks of pleasure died out. You let go of him, your whole body feeling like jelly, feeling the loss of warmth from John’s hand as he withdrew before the oversensitivity became painful.

He gave a breath of a laugh. “That good, huh?”

You pulled him down to lay next to you, an awkward crush of limbs half-off the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kissed you deeply, your breaths never quite leaving the space between you.

“Thank you,” you said.

He smirked. “You’re welcome. Though really, it’s my pleasure.”

You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, pink and swollen from kissing you. “I can think of some other things that might be your pleasure,” you said, your voice husky but not worn out, not yet. Your first orgasm had only made you want him more, and from the feel of him hard against your thigh, it had made him all the more eager for you too.

“Where do you wanna cum, baby?” you asked, reaching between you to rub your hand against his erection. You felt the way his whole body shuddered with pleasure at your touch. “Between my legs? Down my throat?”

“Jesus, love,” he moaned, his hips moving against your hand. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum in my jeans like a teenager.”

You hummed. “Can’t have that, now, can we?” You fumbled with his belt as you kissed him; though he let you for a second, he quickly batted your hands away and pulled back.

“Up there,” he said, nodding towards the head of the bed. Liking this dominant streak, you did as he said, settling yourself as he made quick work of his jeans and boxers.

You let out a choked sigh at the sight of his cock, flushed and heavy between his legs, the tip leaking precum as he made his way up the bed towards you. He settled himself between your legs, giving his cock a few quick strokes as you spread wider for him.

“Love you,” he said breathlessly, leaning down to kiss you as he put his hand to the small of your back, lifting your hips to meet his.

You opened your mouth to say the same, but your voice was cut off in a desperate gasp as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

“John,” was all you could manage, but you were confident he knew what you meant. He kept you both there for a moment, steadying each other, giving you a second like he always did to adjust to him. Those few seconds with him inside you for the first time, filling you up, his warm skin pressed against yours, was easily one of your favorite things about making love to him.

He pressed kisses to your neck, sucking hard enough in some places that you were sure to wake up covered in love marks tomorrow. You couldn’t find it in you to be bothered, though, leaning your head back to expose as much skin for him as he wanted.

“I seem to recall you saying something about wanting another baby,” he said, his voice low against your neck. He was beautiful, his brown eyes lovely and dark with desire, his cheeks flushed, his curls mussed and coppery in the firelight.

“What are you waiting for, then?” you said. You felt his cock twitch and found yourself suddenly desperate for him to move. “Put a baby in me.”

That was all it took, and you gave a gasp of pleasure as he drew himself out almost completely before pushing back into you as deep as he could go. He set a steady pace, not the frantic thrusts familiar to a quickie, nor the slow, tender strokes of lazy lovemaking. This was deliberate, each snap of his hips against yours intended to unravel you as well as seeming to try and sink himself all the way into your heat with every thrust. You hooked your legs around him, drawing him even deeper.

“God, you feel amazing,” he panted, each breath punched out of him as he drove into you. “Absolutely perfect, god, I love you so much.”

You kissed him deeply, letting him catch each heartfelt moan in his mouth that wouldn’t stop coming from yours. He angled his thrust differently, hitting your sweet spot, and your cry of pleasure was sinfully loud.

“John, oh, please, John, yes,” you chanted, the words becoming more like pleas as you felt your orgasm build with every thrust. You tugged at his curls as he put his hand between you, rubbing circles against your clit.

“John,” you said desperately, knowing you were close. “Gonna cum, gonna cum - ”

His response was to deepen his touch against your clit, sending you over the edge almost immediately. White-hot pleasure crashed through you, drawing a string of curses and moans from the both of you as you tightened around him. You rode out your orgasm on his cock, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

You could feel his strokes grow sloppier as he neared his own release, his breaths more like moans as he chased his orgasm and drew yours out as long as he could. 

“I love you, John,” you said, kissing every part of him you could reach, encouraging him and praising him as you felt him coming undone. “You’re so good to me, John, so perfect. I love you. I love you so much.”

One, two, three thrusts later he was spilling inside of you, buried deep between your legs. 

“Fucking Christ,” he managed, dropping his head to your shoulder. His breath was hot against your collarbone as he pressed kisses to your skin, his whole body shaking with the intensity of his pleasure.

You stayed there for a few seconds, feeling each other inside and out, enjoying the press of your bodies together as you came back to earth. Eventually he moved to pull out of you, your breath catching in your throat as your oversensitive body protested the movement. 

“Sorry,” he said with a wince. “Went a little rough, did I?”

You shook your head, giving him a dazed smile. “No, it was good. Really good. You’re always really good.” You had never been particularly articulate in the afterglow, the heady sensation of having been loved well and thoroughly always leaving you at a loss for words.

He breathed a laugh as he lay next to you. “Well, that’s really good to hear,” he teased lightly.

You pressed close to him, seeking his warmth; now that the heat of passion had been sated, you were beginning to realize how chilly it was in the room even despite the fire still casting a lovely glow over the two of you, all tangled limbs and slowly steadying heartbeats. He drew you close, running his hands tenderly over your skin, his touch intended to soothe and calm rather than tease.

“Do you think we made a baby?” you asked.

He chuckled. “If not, we’ll just have to try again, hm?”

You gave a contented groan as you draped your arm over his stomach. “Anytime you want, honey, as long as you do me like that again.”

You felt the warm rumble of his laugh as you lay your head on his chest, tracing the planes and curves of his lean-muscled frame. He let you take your time like you wanted, interrupting his gentle humming of “You’re My Best Friend” with a happy sigh.

“I love you, Mrs. Deacon,” he said. He drew your hand to his mouth, kissing right below your wedding ring, and you could feel his smile. “I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really love you.”

You couldn’t help the adoring laugh that bubbled out of you, beaming at him like you did every time he sang your song to you. After a decade of being loved by him, writing it was still the most romantic thing he’d ever done; he could sing it to you every day and you’d never get tired of the love of your life saying you were his best friend.

“Guess what?” you said.

“Hm?”

You kissed his jaw and felt the endearing warmth of his blush. “You’re my best friend too.”

Chapter Text

You stayed in bed together for a little while, talking and making each other laugh and enjoying the simple luxury of cuddling each other. When you started to get chilly and become more aware of the bit of a mess you both were, John suggested a shower. Though you’d fully intended to shower to get clean, you found you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give your husband a proper thank you for how well he’d loved you that night; you ended up on your knees with his fingers tangled in your hair, pride and pleasure and sheer adoration filling you as you listened to his moans and lavish praise.

He was a little wobbly afterwards; to steady and soothe him, you had him lean against the shower wall as you took your time washing his hair and lathering his beautiful body until he was clean and warm and sleepy. You made quick work of your own soaping-up, a blush accompanying your smile as he watched you with an impossibly gentle and affectionate gaze.

Once out of the shower, you dressed in whatever you grabbed out of your suitcases, layers of sweaters and pajama pants. John wore his soft yellow Disneyland sweater that always made him look very cuddly. You stopped to check in on Teddy as you went out to the kitchen, brushing his curls back from his face and kissing his cheek.

You hopped up on the island as John set about making tea at the stove across from you, the sounds of his rummaging about the kitchen giving a homey comfort to the large, dark house. 

“Quiet without the boys,” John said, setting the kettle to boil. 

You hummed in agreement. You and John had spent most of your adult life bumping shoulders in tiny flats, rooming with Freddie, Brian, and Roger. When you met you’d been living with Brian, and it wasn’t two weeks after John’s first audition before Freddie insisted John come room with him and Roger in their flat. You’d always seen that as a testament to how easily all the boys had become brothers; within a month they went from strangers to bandmates to roommates to best friends.

Though it had been a necessity in the early days, when Queen was booking just enough pub gigs to split the rent between them, all five of you had pushed off moving into separate, bigger houses even when you had the money. It took you and John getting married and getting a small flat of your own to prompt the boys into taking an interest in real estate; even then, you were all living in such close quarters on tour that it still felt like you were college roommates. You all had a deep fondness for those days, when you were broke and eating whatever could be found in the cupboards as you crashed at one of the flats to watch Marx Brothers movies. 

“I’m glad we’re all here,” you said.

He smiled. “Kinda like the good old days, huh?”

You reached for his hand and he obliged you, letting you tug him closer to you. He rested his free hand on your thigh, running his thumb over the plaid of your pajama pants.

“Is it terrible that I miss that?” you asked, your voice soft. “I mean, I love Teddy more than anything in the whole world, and I love being married to you and having our own house and everything…”

“But?” he prompted gently.

You shrugged. “But, you know, I loved living like that. Even though we had a lot more to worry about, like rent and essays and you guys booking enough gigs. I loved that we were all basically living all together.” You smiled. “Maybe we should get a big flat and live together for real.”

He laughed. “And have Roger keep us up all hours with his shagging? No, thank you.”

“God, that was pretty awful,” you said with a laugh, remembering the numerous times you and John had relocated to your flat because Roger was being obscenely loud with his latest fling. Not only was it unmistakable in John’s room, with the shared wall between his and Roger’s room, but you couldn’t even escape it in the living room. Freddie would always be over at yours and Brian’s flat soon after, going on about thin walls while the long-suffering Brian listened kindly and made tea.

“To be fair, though, we probably did our fair share of knocking the headboard against that shared wall,” John said with a cheeky smile.

You grinned and kissed him. “Probably,” you agreed.

He looked up at you with a gentle gaze when your broke apart. “I don’t think it’s terrible that you miss that,” he said. “I miss it too. I mean, we’re so happy now, but we were also happy then. A different kind of happy. And I don’t think it’s ungrateful to miss a different kind of happy.”

You traced your fingers over the collar of his t-shirt. “A different kind of happy,” you mused. Like nearly everything John said, it made sense and helped you to see you weren’t alone in your feelings. “Thank you.”

He gave you a bemused smile. “What for?”

You shrugged. “Knowing me. Loving me well.” You smiled. “Indulging my sentimentality.”

He chuckled as he tucked a curl behind your ear. “You’re welcome.”

“We should have just had a big flat back then,” you said, still a bit fond of the idea.

He smiled. “With how often you and Bri were at our place, it would have made more sense.”

“You three had the tv!” you protested. “How else was I supposed to watch Upstairs, Downstairs?”

“Did I ever tell you I don’t really like Upstairs, Downstairs?”

Your eyes widened. “What? That’s not true. You love it!”

He laughed. “I really don’t. Soap operas have never been my thing.”

“But you watched it with me every week!” you insisted.

He gave you a lovely smile. “I wanted to be with you.”

You felt a little dismayed to know you’d put him through countless episodes of a show he didn’t even like, but you were also endeared and amused that he’d put up with it for you.

 “Well damn, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” you said with a sympathetic laugh. “I just assumed since you always cleared your schedule to watch it with me that you liked it. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged, a smile playing across his features. “You liked it, and we could have been watching a blank tv screen for all I cared. We had our first kiss watching Upstairs, if you recall, and from then on I decided that I’d watch any tv show in the world to be able to kiss you again.”

You didn’t think you’d ever forget that night. Since Freddie was the only one out of you who didn’t have exams to study for, he’d herded all of you and your textbooks into the kitchen so he could mother the four of you. With Brian unable to take on the responsible, mother-hen role thanks to his studying, Freddie easily and actually quite adeptly stepped in. He’d ordered takeout, making sure everyone got their favorite, and spent the evening making strong tea and checking in with each of you. You and John had taken a break to watch Upstairs, and when you’d laughed at something one of the maids said, John had been so taken with you that he leaned in and kissed you.

“Still the best kiss you’ve ever given me,” you said fondly.

He looked playfully aghast. “You mean to tell me that after ten years, I haven’t managed to top that?”

“Nope, sorry,” you teased. “Twenty-year-old Deaky will always have a leg up on you.”

“Damn him to hell,” John said, looking up at you like you hung the moon. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep kissing you until I figure it out.”

You grinned. “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”

He took your chin in hand and drew you down to kiss him, trying out every trick in the book to make it quite possibly the headiest kiss he’d ever given you. You couldn’t help a smile even as his tongue explored your mouth; you could get used to this determination to one-up a kiss that really hadn’t been technically wonderful, but was still your favorite because of how shy and lovely it had been. 

“How was that?” he asked a little breathlessly when you came up for air. You knew you were blushing, and his smile was cheeky.

“I know, I know,” he said affectionately. “Not nearly as nice as the first kiss of a pretty boy absolutely smitten with you.”

You gently touched your fingers to his soft lips. “What’s your favorite kiss?”

“All of them,” he said, without hesitation. He smiled when he saw you roll your eyes. “It’s true! Every single kiss is my favorite.”

“That’s not how favorites work,” you said, amused.

“Well, it is with me. Besides, how could I pick a favorite? Which one would I choose?” He punctuated his questions with soft kisses on your cheek, your nose, your forehead. “Our first kiss as man and wife? The kiss you gave me when you told me you were pregnant? The kiss I gave you the first time I made you cum? There’s too many to choose from. Even the ones not nearly as memorable are still wonderful.”

You felt yourself lean close to him as he pulled back to look at you, something in you pulled inevitably towards the sincerity of his words and the gentleness of his touch.

“This one - ” he said, kissing you tenderly. “This one is my favorite too. Now, doesn’t that sound like a little less of a cop out?”

You hummed in agreement, a little dazed to say anything of consequence.

He smiled. “I have that effect on a lot of women.”

You grinned. “You’re teasing, but it’s true.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Lucky for me, I’m the only one who gets to take you home at the end of the night.”

He kissed you again, and you had the feeling that you would never tire of kissing him and giving him new favorites as long as you lived. You broke apart when the kettle started to whistle, John reluctantly turning from you to set about making tea.

“Good lord, it’s freezing.”

Both you and John looked to the front door to see Freddie and Brian come in, their hair and the shoulders of their jackets dusted with a fine layer of snow. Freddie impatiently scrubbed a hand through his short curls as he and Brian made their way inside and closed the door behind them.

“Don’t wake up my kid,” you warned, your voice just loud enough to carry from the kitchen into the living room. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Freddie said, taking his voice to a stage whisper, which was only marginally better. “Forgot about Teddy. He’s asleep?”

“It’s nearly three in the morning, Freddie,” Brian said as he hung up his own coat and the one Freddie had discarded over the back of the couch. “What five-year-old wouldn’t be asleep?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Freddie said, waving him off. “I don’t have any Mercury babies running around, I wouldn’t know.”

Brian laughed as he followed Freddie into the kitchen, pulling on his sweater with the rainbow guitar stitched over the chest. “But Freddie, that’s just common sense. You don’t need to have children to know that.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I am a little drunk,” Freddie said smartly, opening the fridge. “Speaking of which, where’s the beer?”

“Top shelf,” John supplied. “Though I’ve made tea if you want that instead.”

“I’ll have some, thank you,” Brian said. He kissed your cheek. “Hi, love.”

You smiled. “Hi, Brimi. How was the party?”

“Entertaining,” he said, amused. He took the cup of tea John handed him. “Though Freddie and I decided to take our leave when the party moved outside.”

“These Canadians are built for weather like this,” Freddie said. “But I’m rather more delicate, you know. No use dancing with all those burly Mounties if I can’t feel my feet.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said melodramatically, leaning back across the island countertop towards him. “Come here.”

Freddie grabbed a beer and closed the fridge, putting his free hand in yours and letting himself be led over to stand by you. 

“You’re the only one with any sympathy around here, darling,” he said. “The only one who really loves me.”

“I know,” you agreed, taking the beer from him and setting it on the counter. “Which is why I’m making you stand here with me while John makes you tea to warm you up.”

He sighed and leaned against the counter with his back to you, letting you drape your arms over his shoulders and kiss his cheek.

“Did you have fun with the Mounties before you were freezing to death?” you asked.

“Oh, loads,” he said. He reached up to lightly pat your cheek. “Though it’s lovely to be home. You and Deaky had a rip-roaring time here, I hope?”

“Not really,” you teased, blushing a little when John winked at you. “It was purely business.”

Freddie gave a theatrical gasp. “Business, you say? Oh, I haven’t done a call-girl roleplay in ages. Was it very nice?”

Brian laughed. “I’m not sure that’s exactly what they meant.”

“No?” Freddie asked, giving John a pout. He made his way over to John and leaned his head on his shoulder. “That’s too bad. I could have made much better use of your time, Deaky, honestly.”

“Don’t I know it, loverboy,” John said dramatically, throwing Freddie his best and most exaggerated smoulder. 

Freddie laughed. “Oh, stop it. You’re making me blush.”

John’s expression was warm with affection as he grinned at his best friend. “You’re a mess, Fred, you know that?”

“Yes, darling, but I’m your mess,” Freddie said cooly, taking the mug of tea John offered.

John cradled his own mug in his hands. “What she means by business is that we’re trying for a baby.”

Freddie nearly choked on his tea. “A baby?”

You smiled. “Not our best idea?”

“No, no, I think it’s wonderful,” he said quickly. His smile was genuine and elated when he met your eyes. “You did so well with your first one, darling, I think another one would be absolutely smashing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” you said sincerely. You couldn’t say that the boys’ reaction hadn’t been a worry to you before you’d even broached the topic with John; you were a family, and you wanted them to be excited about it too. You could tell now, though, that your worries had been silly: both Freddie and Brian looked pleased a punch at the idea, and John was practically beaming with pride.

“It’s really lovely, you guys,” Brian said to you and John. His smile turned a bit cheeky. “Would it be forward of me to wish you happy baby-making?”

“Not any more forward than Freddie seducing my husband into kinky sex,” you said dryly.

Freddie raised a brow. “Jealous, are we?”

You giggled and were rewarded with three lovely smiles from three of the men you loved most in the world. You wished that Roger was here, but you were sure he was having fun with his date; besides, there’d be no shortage of smiles from the blonde when he came home tomorrow with another notch on his bedpost.

“You should look at your horoscope to see when you’re most likely to get pregnant, darling,” Freddie said.

You laughed. You and Freddie loved reading your horoscopes, and even though John, Roger, and Brian teased you relentlessly about it, they still listened with polite intent when you insisted on reading theirs to them. You and Freddie most appreciated Brian’s indulgence when it came to detailing what the month held for Cancers; to the almost-doctor of the stars, the very idea of astrology was an amusing hobby at best and an affront to astronomical study at worst. That he listened patiently and didn’t immediately dismiss everything you said about his life in the upcoming weeks was a testament to his love for both of you.

“Speaking of which,” Freddie said, “Brian was telling me about some phenomenon or other happening tonight with the stars, weren’t you, love?”

Brian chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t have anything to do with star signs, I’m afraid.”

“Not to worry,” Freddie said. “Your star things are always much better. What was it again? Some German word, I think?”

“Gegenschein,” Brian agreed. “It’s a reflection of sunlight in interplanetary dust. You can see it much clearer when you’re as far away from the city as we are.”

“Is it tonight?” Freddie asked, making you smile with his sincere interest in what Brian loved. He suddenly looked worried. “Oh, dear, did I make you miss it by dragging you to that party?”

Brian smiled. “No, you’re alright. It happens all the time, but light pollution makes it very hard to see.”

“But you can see it from here?” Freddie pressed.

“Yes, I saw it as we walked in. It’s quite lovely.”

“You didn’t show me?” Freddie asked.

Brian looked a little bemused. “Did you want to see it? I can show you now, if you like.”

Freddie smiled. “Yes, please do.” He and Brian made their way out towards the back porch, with Freddie calling for you to join them before listening to Brian’s more detailed explanation of what exactly they were going to see.

John extended a hand to you and helped you off the counter. “Shall we do a bit of stargazing, my love?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a quick kiss. “I’d love to.”

You and John held hands as you walked out to the back porch, you tucking your free hand snugly under his arm as the cold night air rushed in the open porch door.

“You want my sweatshirt?” John asked, looking down at you.

“No, I’m ok,” you said. “But thank you.”

He smiled. “Let me know if you want it.”

The view from the porch was lovely in the night, the lake stretched out in a still, dark reflection of the starry sky above. The woods that surrounded the lake were dusted heavily with snow, catching the faint light of the crescent moon; you could see your breath as it came in little clouds in front of you.

“It’s just there,” Brian was saying to Freddie, leaning over the porch railing to see out from under the roof, pointing out a spot in the night sky.

“The bright spot?” Freddie asked.

“Yes, well done,” Brian said with a smile. You felt yourself smile in response; you always found it endearing when Brian’s teacher side came out. 

“Will you show me?” you asked. You untucked yourself from John’s side, immediately missing his warmth, but you wanted to see the stars too. Brian stepped aside to make room for you at the railing, his fingers tracing a place in the stars to show you.

“You can see that it’s kind of like a band across the sky, just below Aries.”

You tried to make out the constellation, feeling a little guilty that you couldn’t pick it out.

“I don’t remember what Aries looks like,” you admitted. “Sorry.”

He gave you a kind smile. “No, that’s quite alright,” he said. He looked back up at the sky. “Let’s see… You see that really bright star, just there?”

You nodded.

“Excellent,” he said. “Now, that’s Hamal, and she’s the brightest star in Aries. If you look just below Hamal, you can start to see a bright spot, kind of like it’s glowing.”

You followed his fingers and saw what he was indicating; you wondered how you hadn’t seen it before. It was a bright patch in the sky, kind of like a stripe across the inky blue.

“I see it!” you said excitedly. Brian’s smile was affectionate enough to warm you despite the cold.

You turned to John. “Come see, honey.”

Though you guessed he would have been content to stay closer to the warmth of the house, you also knew he would never deny you anything in his power to give; he came over to where you, Brian, and Freddie were standing and wrapped his arms around your waist. Huddled between the three of them, you were as warm as you had been inside.

“Where is this wonderful thing?” John asked, looking up in the direction you had been gazing.

Brian chuckled. “Y/N can show you, now that she’s seen it,” he said. Again, his educational nature was never quite absent; he was giving you a chance to teach so that you would remember it better.

“Do you know what Aries looks like?” you asked John.

“Yeah, I do,” he teased. “Some of us actually paid attention when Brian showed us constellations.”

You nudged him playfully. “Oh, well, if you’re so smart, are you sure you need me to show it to you?”

He gave a soft laugh and kissed your jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Show me.” He raised his hand. “Aries is right there, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And if you look right below it - ”

You drew his hand down just a little. “That’s the gegenschein right there.”

“Oh,” John said; you could tell from his tone that he was more impressed that he thought he’d be. He drew both of your hands down together, twining your fingers. “Yeah, I see it. It’s lovely.”

“Isn’t it?” Freddie agreed. “All of Brian’s star things are always quite lovely.”

Brian smiled. “My star things, hm? I’m honored.”

“Thank you for showing us,” Freddie said. “Does it every get a bit tedious, you know, being around a bunch of us who don’t know anything about space?”

“Oh, not at all,” Brian said sweetly. “I’m very happy to talk about the stars, and I’m always learning with you. I’m probably the tedious one, going on and on about these esoteric things.”

“It’s nice, actually,” John said. He smiled. “Makes me feel better about lecturing everyone on circuit boards.”

Brian chuckled. “Now, that’s something that’s actually useful. Speaking of, I was wondering if you’d take a look at Red Special before the show tomorrow.”

“Sure,” John said. “What’s going on with her?”

Brian shrugged. “She just sounded a little off towards the end of the show, and I’m worried it might be more than just a tuning fix.”

John gave your hand a quick squeeze before he released you from his bear hug, giving Brian his full attention as Brian described what he thought could be wrong with his guitar.

Freddie patted his pockets and came up empty. “Damn,” he said. “I think I left my cigarettes with that Mountie.” He looked over at John, who had taken a seat on the couch catty corner to the chair Brian was sitting in.

“Have you got any cigarettes, Deaky?” he asked.

John nodded towards the house. “In my jeans. They’re on the floor somewhere in the bedroom.”

“For shame, John,” Freddie said teasingly. “Making me root through your discarded clothes for a cigarette, honestly.”

“That’s not how you find all your other smokes?” John said cooly.

Freddie laughed. “Charming, dear, as always.” He went back inside; you stood by the porch railing and crossed your arms over your chest against the cold. You looked out over the lake and listened to Brian and John talking, their voices mixing in a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

“Sweetheart,” John said after a moment. You turned around.

“Hm?”

He gave you a sweet smile. “Are you cold, love?”

You blushed a little; you were cold, but you hadn’t meant to distract John from his conversation.

“A little,” you admitted.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?”

You shook your head. “I wanted to have a cigarette, and I don’t want to get it all smoky.”

You husband’s laugh was gentle and full of affection. “I don’t mind, lovely,” he said. He pulled it over his head and tossed it to you. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”

You pulled his sweatshirt on, enjoying his warmth and comforting scent practically woven into the fabric. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Anytime, love.”

He went back to talking with Brian as Freddie came back out to the porch, wearing his favorite yellow sweatshirt with a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Lights held triumphantly aloft.

“Took a minute, what with all the unmentionables strewn about the room, but I found them.”

He leaned up against the railing next to you, offering you the carton. “Fancy a smoke, darling?”

“Why thank you,” you said, pulling a cig from the half-empty carton. Freddie took one and lit it, handing you the lighter so you could do the same.

“I really am excited about a new baby Deacon,” Freddie said.

You smiled and exhaled, smoke mixing with the clouds of your breath in the cold air. “Thank you,” you said sincerely. “We’re excited too. I think it’s about time the world was blessed with another mini John Deacon, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Freddie said. “You can’t have enough of them, really.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “Since Brian is Teddy’s favorite, I think you should have at least two more so Rog and I can have our very own.”

“In that case, maybe we should shoot for three so that John and I can have one for us, too.”

Freddie laughed. “Very clever of you, darling. Yes, I think that’s a lovely idea. You and Deaky should have one too.”

You leaned your head on Freddie’s shoulder, smiling to yourself. “I love you, Fred.”

His chuckle was a little surprised. “Any particular reason?”

“Nope,” you said. “Just love you.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Well, I just love you too.”

You straightened after a moment as you both finished off your cigarettes, putting them out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

“You two headed in?” Brian asked.

You shrugged. “Are you guys staying out here?”

Brian and John looked to each other.

“Yeah, I think so,” John said. “Right?”

“Well, you’ve just told me you had a new idea for the amp, so I’m not going anywhere until you tell me all about it,” Brian said.

You smiled. You knew better than anybody how the two of them could get when they got started on something they both found interesting, and you guessed they wouldn’t be heading to bed any time soon.

“You can go to bed if you want,” John told you. “You don’t have to wait up.”

You considered taking him up on his offer - your bed did sound awfully inviting - but you also didn’t want to miss just being out here with your best friends. It wasn’t too often these days that you all had a chance to just be together, talking and enjoying each other’s company without the pressures of recording or concerts or dealing with the record label.

“I want to stay,” you said.

“So do I,” Freddie said. “But I’ve got to get a blanket or something or I’ll turn into the Fantastic Frozen Freddie.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a popsicle brand.”

He smirked. “Care to take a lick?”

That brought a laugh from all of you, and it seemed to catch Brian’s funny bone in particular, his normally soft chuckle giving way to a hearty laugh.

“Oh, god, Fred,” Brian said eventually, catching his breath. “I’ve never known anyone quite like you, you old queen.”

“Nor shall you ever, I assure you,” Freddie said with a cheeky smile. “Come on then, help me get some blankets and bring out the tea.”

Brian rose and followed Freddie inside, leaving you and John out on the porch. You sat next to him on the couch and curled up close to him, sighing as you met his warmth.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go to bed?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I might fall asleep right here, though. You’re a really good pillow.”

He chuckled. “Only the best for you, Mrs. Deacon.”

Freddie and Brian came back out to the porch bearing blankets and mugs of tea, slightly cooled from earlier but still nice and warm against the cold of the night. Freddie put a blanket over you and John before taking the spot on the couch on your other side; Brian wrapped himself in a blanket in his chair, cradling his mug in both hands. Uncurling from John so you could sip at your tea, you leaned back against Freddie and propped your feet in John’s lap.

“Alright, Deaky, new ideas for your amp,” Freddie prompted. “Stun us.”

“I dunno if they’re all that stunning,” John said, amused and a little bashful. “But I was thinking of…”

You let your mind wander from their conversation, still listening to the comforting sound of their voices but giving in to the contented tiredness that eased over you. You felt the warm rumble of Freddie’s laugh and watched Brian’s hands as he gestured animatedly when he spoke. John absently traced patterns over your legs, his gentle touch alone enough for you to know that he was always aware of you and always loved you, even when he was preoccupied with something else. 

It was nearly perfect; if Roger had been there, it would have been heaven as you had always imagined it, the comfort of such a deep trust and love and affection between the five of you that you felt at home no matter where you were. Roger would be home in the morning, and then it would be perfect; for now, it was close enough, and you couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.