#autistic!john

Here my drawing of autistic!john with beary :3 I hope you like it, also I love your blog

of course luvvie.  i hope this makes you feel better <3

I did make a mention of Beary from @disabled-queen-hc‘s world, because I love him more than anything :) (I also hope you’re doing okay, too! miss you lots!)

                                                             —–

When John presented Roger with the stuffed lion the Sunday before Queen first tour, he wasn’t really sure how to react. Now, Roger rarely did know how to react in general. There was a reason he was the spaz of the band and not Brian.  But…this was different. “And I just know how much you always seem to like holding Beary, and you know I appreciate you asking and all, but I just thought that you’d like your own maybe. Your own Beary.” John had been babbling and Roger only just tuned back in.  He’d been too busy stewing over his own response and combing his fingers through the lion’s mane.  

“Well not a Beary,” Roger muttered, now focused on the stuffie’s plastic nose and eyes. He tapped his fingernail over them, again and again. Nice sound. He did it some more and he felt John go from standing to sitting beside him on the sofa.  

“Unless this is a Beary in drag.” He looked up, finally, and smiled at John.  A real one–with his eyes and his body and everything. Legs bouncing and hands moving.  He didn’t want to admit it, but…he liked this gift.  Roger held up the lion and started playing with it, making it strike funky poses and bop to the radio playing in the kitchen.

“That’s why I got you the lion, Rog. ‘Cause we’re-’cause you’re a Leo–stop that!” He chuckled, hands swinging around happily. “Lions aren’t supposed to like rock n’ roll!”Roger gasped in mock disgrace and started swinging one of his little cloth arms around an air guitar like Pete Townsend.  Now they had both moved up onto their knees and were bouncing on the couch cushions, hair bobbing up and down in time.  John was so happy and bright, Roger wanted to tackle him in a hug.  “If Bearys can like rock n’ roll than so can lions!” 

“Your lion doesn’t have the experience to like anything yet.  He doesn’t even have a name. And you have to at least have a name to have experience.”

Roger frowned and stopped bouncing a moment, holding his lion out in front of him and studying it.  

“He…does have a name.” He argued from behind the furry mane. John smirked and raised an eyebrow, eyes brighter than stars.  “Oh? And what’s his name?” Roger reddened. He…knew this was coming, but he also hadn’t thought this far ahead.  “Ly. Short for…Lion.” He found himself clutching Ly tight and averting his gaze again.  Thank god his new stuffed animal was soft, because he was white knuckling the poor thing.  

“And don’t go saying it’s a bad name ‘cause your bear’s name is Beary and that’s not any better than naming a Lion Ly, so you don’t have any leg to stand on, Deaky.” Roger heart was beating fast, expecting a snarky remark from John.  And now would be the perfect time use it, too.  Roger was lost to think of any decent rebuttal.  He couldn’t feel things and be smart at the same time, not like normal people.  A gentle hand, wearing rings on three fingers, came to rest on the stuffed lion’s head, and pushed it out of the way.  John looked at Roger and Roger looked back from behind his bangs.  He smiled that gap toothed smile made of pixie dust and Roger suddenly felt calmer.  “I think Ly’s a great name.” John shrugged. “All I was going to say was that just because lion’s can’t like rock n’ roll doesn’t mean they shouldn’t.” A glint reappeared in John’s eye and Roger’s lips quirked up a little.  “Hasn’t stopped us.” 

                                                            —-               

This is possibly THE most deaky thing I have ever seen

People are scary and there’s so many rules that are unspoken. One being understanding authority figures. Who is and isn’t.

John defaults to everyone being an authority figure. It’s a mixture of not understanding social situations and lack of confidence. He doesn’t know who he should be listening to and on top of that, he feels kind of dumb, so assumes everyone knows better than him. 

In the beginning of his time in Queen, everyone is like hehehe, John’s a real passive guy. Listens to everything we say. Better than a roadie actually.

It’s not until one day they realize John really was listening to them because he didn’t think he had a choice. Brian says jokingly for John to fetch him some expensive beer from a store across town and John gets up and gets his keys, nearly walking out of the door before everyone wrangles him back inside.

“I was joking, Deacy!” Brian says.

“You can say no, you know, sweetie,” Freddie says.

“Don’t think he knows how,” Roger notes.

John’s confused.

If it was a joke, why are they all so concerned? 

This leads to a very big talk. All the things they’ve noticed come together. John has never said no since they met him. He does everything anyone tells him to do. Anyone. Anything. He takes all advice seriously. Changes his behavior if someone points it out. He’s basically a well trained dog and that is not a good thing!

They point this out to John and tell him that it’s okay to have a spine. In fact, it’s necessary in this business. It’s okay to say no. Maybe not to a police officer or his mum, but to them and managers and fans and random people, he can say no. He can ignore their words, their recommendations. He can act how he likes. He’s a grown man who can make decisions for himself.

John’s still confused and now embarrassed. He didn’t even notice he did that. He’s blushing furiously and going quiet. The boys decide to practice it rather than talk about it.

“Mind giving me a few pounds?” Roger asks.

John reaches into his wallet.

“No, John, you’re supposed to say no,” Brian reminds him.

“But I want to give Rog some money,” John says. Roger clutches his heart and tries to pretend that wasn’t kind of sort of sweet.

They try again.

“I don’t like your hair long. You should cut it, Deacy,” Freddie says.

John looks at his hair. Maybe he’s right? Wait. No. “Uh, no thank you...I think” John says, his voice cracking. It felt weird saying no to Freddie. He felt like someone you couldn’t say no to.

Again.

“Get me my guitar,” Brian says. The guitar is at his feet. 

John wants to bend over to get it but shakes his head. “No...” he says. He looks to Freddie and Roger who are giving him bright smiles and thumbs up. 

They try one more test to make sure John gets it.

Freddie lays dramatically on the floor.

“Deacy...I’ve just had a heart attack...call 999 for me, please. I’m dying.

“N-No...?” John said, not sure of himself.

“Oh my god.”

“The mad man just killed Fred.”

Roger is a sensory seeker, so he’s definitely a gigantic cuddle bug. Hanging off people like a koala at all times.

John on the other hand is very to himself. Doesn’t touch people and doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t get anything from contact with other people and most times, he might even get distressed.

But, Roger has always been respectful of John’s boundaries. More so now that they’re dating. He always asks if he can touch John or asks permission to hold his hand. He never kisses him without a warning. He’s exceptional and John decides to meet Roger halfway too.

Roger almost blushes himself to death the first time John grabs his hand unprompted. He melts into a puddle of goo when John kisses his cheek out of the blue. And he’s on cloud nine when John initiates their first real cuddle.

Roger’s on the couch watching some car show when John plops himself on the couch next to him and snuggles up to his side. 

Roger’s looking at John like, “Is this for real?” John nods and lays his head on Roger’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him. He’s a bit stiff. A tiny bit uncomfortable. But it’s not bad. Physically, it’s not doing anything for him, but emotionally, it’s nice to be so close to Roger.

Roger meanwhile is dying. His skin feels like butterflies are tickling him with their wings and he’s all warm and his stomach is doing flips like when he’s really happy. He wraps his arm around John, loosely as to not overwhelm him, and he leans into John’s embrace, smiling so big and having to stop the urge to get up and jump. 

John does some happy clicking at the back of his throat and Roger mimics him. Roger giggles and nuzzles his head against John’s. This is fantastic.

It does end eventually, John getting fatigued from all the skin to skin contact. He pulls away, nervous Roger might be upset but Roger’s beaming. And now he has room to flap and bounce and jump. John claps and laughs watching his boyfriend happy stim like he’s never done before.

John is very touch aversive. His skin is extremely sensitive. His clothes have to be just right or else he’ll be itching and squirming all day. His hair has to be a certain way or he’ll feel it on his neck all day and go nuts. His skin has to be free of all things, like lotion or sticky spots or else...he’ll die. 

It’s not giant leap to figure out that he hates touch from people. A firm handshake feels like knives. A pat on the back is like a bulldozer. A hug is on par to hugging a cactus.

John doesn’t want to be touched. It’s an easy concept to understand. If you know him, of course.

At his audition, he is a stranger to the 3 other boys. He didn’t think to warn them. It didn’t cross his mind.

Until the boys are gushing over him. They’re surrounding him, asking him questions, telling him times and places to meet up next week. John is handling all the interaction well. That is, before Freddie gives his shoulder a firm pat. A congratulations to most but a punishment to John.

John cries out, dropping his guitar case, leaping backwards. Freddie’s hand hasn’t been on his shoulder for seconds now, but John can still feel it as if it were still there and it hurts. He hisses as he tries to sooth his shoulder with light touches. The boys are confused. They think his shoulder must have some sort of injury.

“What’s wrong, luvvy? Did I touch a cut or something?”

“You alright, mate?”

“Have you a fresh tattoo or something?”

They try to reach out and comfort him, with touch again. Their hands look like weapons to John. He takes steps back and shakes his head.

"Don’t touch me, please,” John says grimacing. 

Their faces sour. He must be a snob. Or anti social. Or just a jerk. Maybe he has something contagious?

John frowns. “Sorry. It’s not like that. I would like to be able to shake your hands or get a pat on the shoulder. But, uh, my skin. It’s real sensitive. Like painfully,” he says, hoping that explains things.

“Did you just get over a cold?” Freddie asks.

John can feel Freddie’s hand on his shoulder. He knew there wouldn’t be a bruise on it if he looked, but it feels like there should be with the pain radiating off of it.

“N-No. My skin is ramped up to a 10 sensitivity wise all the time. Since I can remember. It’s not contagious or anything. Just how my brain is wired, you know.”

“Your brain?” Roger asks, not understanding the connection.

John flushes nervously. “I, uh, I have autism. It’s not a big deal. J-Just my skin. I guess.” He feels like he ruined his chance to be in the band. They’ll surly kick him out now.

Freddie looks to Brian who nods. And then to Roger who also nods. John’s stomach drops. Freddie looks to John, his eyes unreadable, but John’s no good at reading faces.

“Well, then, John. Guess we’ll have to figure things out as we go. Feel free to talk to us more about this autism thing later. For now, welcome to Queen,” Freddie said, holding out his hand.

John went pale looking at Freddie’s hand. He was happy they were interested in learning about him, but did he not pay attention to what had just happened?

Freddie laughed. “You don’t have to touch it, sweetheart. Just hover it close to mine. Our auras will handshake and that’s good enough for me.”

John stuttered, looking at Freddie to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t.

John brought his hand close to Freddie’s, close enough to feel his warmth but not his skin. They bowed their hands as if they were shaking them. A smile spread on both their faces.

Roger was next to ‘shake’ John’s hand, then Brian. 

Ideally, Crystal would call in a replacement, but on tour I could see how that’s not feasible.

So he really has no choice other than the boys since John isn’t comfortable with anyone else.

Crystal is barely lucid and calls Roger, mumbling something about taking John and calling a doctor for himself. Roger’s quite confused because Crystal isn’t making any sense so he drops over to their adjoined hotel room and John’s on his bed smiling and in the other room, Crystal is almost dead, coughing and sneezing. 

Roger looks at John again and he swears the man who can’t speak says ‘Welcome to hell’

Roger gets the other 2 and they get call Crystal a doctor and then they’re in the lobby, all sat together awkwardly.

“Soo....What...do we have to do,” Freddie says, a little apprehensive. John is quite independent but he still needs help with some things. None of them know what though.

They all look at John. John cringes a little bit but points to his mouth. 

“A kiss?” Roger asks.

“He wants food, you jackass,” Brian says, already forming a headache for the buffoonery today has to offer.

Freddie and Roger go “Oooh”. John’s signs ‘Jackass’ but nobody knows what he said.

They go and get breakfast. John is dumbfounded at the boys not knowing his breakfast of choice. The only thing he’s ate for decades. He scribbles Cheese on toast with milk onto a paper, already missing Crystal.

They order their breakfast and eat it without much fanfare. Once everyone’s done, they start staring again. John’s happily rocking away, playing with his hair when he feels their eyes on him. He shrugs as if to say ‘What?”

“Well, what’s next? Crystal didn’t exactly leave us with an itinerary,” Brian says.

John shapes the letters Y-O-G-A with his fingers. It’s something he does with Crystal on tour to keep him busy, make a schedule and keep him from exploding. Too often at least.

Roger grimaces. He doesn’t think he can even touch his toes if he tried.

They all go to the biggest room, Freddie’s, and John runs them through his routine. Usually it’s Crystal leading the way, but now John’s in charge. He forgets a few steps and adds in stuff to make the boys suffer, but for the most part everyone is having a somewhat okay time. Roger clocked out half way in and is just laying on the floor. Brian is trying his damnedest but he’s pretty stiff. Freddie is doing weirdly fantastic and is John’s star student. John keeps clapping and giggling when Freddie can do a pose.

And then it’s nap time because John believes in the healing powers of a good nap. He throws himself onto Freddie’s bed and is out. Roger is also asleep on the floor. Freddie and Brian are like okay...do we just watch him? They spend an hour whispering to each other, telling jokes and trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

Once Sleeping Beauty John wakes up, there isn’t much else in his day to do and it’s smooth sailing. The boys all buy a Disney movie to watch in Freddie’s room and then there’s lunch and walking around by the pool.

The boys are all thinking, huh, this is pretty easy. Not sure why Crystal makes it seem like a big deal to keep John happy and safe.

Until dinner time. 

They go to the restaurant in the hotel and John’s irritable. He’s huffing and rocking and pulling some of his hair out and won’t tell anyone why. Somebody drops a glass near there table and John starts to scream and he won’t stop.

The boys have no idea what to do. They’re looking at each other with wide eyes, panicking. Freddie touches John’s shoulder but John slaps him away. Roger whispers to him that everything is okay but John pushes him away. Brian decides to drag John out of the place. It’s probably the wrong choice. It’s probably mean and bad and not what Crystal would have done, but none of them are Crystal and John does stop his meltdown.

Outside the restaurant, he’s sniffling and playing with his fingers. He calms down enough to sign “Sorry” and the boys do understand what he said. 

If Crystal were there, he would’ve told them to pick somewhere else to eat. John can’t tolerate most uppity restaurants. The lighting bothers him and the table fabric itches his skin and all the clinking of glass and porcelain drives him up the wall. And John didn’t tell them that because he doesn’t remember to. Which is why he needs Crystal in the first place.

The four of them are sitting on the floor, adrenaline leaving their bodies limp and exhausted. The 3 mumble their own apologies before settling on staying in Freddie’s room and ordering room service.

John’s back to being perky, flapping his hands and chirping. The boys are happy he’s back to normal. They’re talking and watching TV and movies until 11pm, when John points at the clock. He’s bouncing and honking. 

“What, Deacy?” Freddie asks, fighting back a yawn.

John pretends to sleep.

“You want to go to bed?” Roger asks. 

John nods. 

Down they go to his hotel room. He makes them sit on his bed while he takes a shower. They’re all giggling at his bad singing. He gets into his pajamas and they’re on backwards but he’s so proud to show off his pajamas from Japan no one has the heart to tell him. 

He combs his hair but Brian gets frustrated and combs it for him. The man can play a bass like a wizard but can’t comb his hair to save his life. John just smiles that little shit smile he does.

John washes his mouth but he really hates that so he stops some 30 seconds in.

“Mate, that wasn’t even a good attempt,” Roger says. John whines.

“At least 30 more seconds,” Roger says, dentistry school flashbacks happening in his head.

John does 50 more seconds of brushing.

He climbs into bed and gets all snuggled up, Freddie drapes his weighted blanket over him and...nothing happens.

He’s too excited to sleep.

The boys are just looking at him, expecting him to go unconscious immediately.

John’s wriggling and giggling.

“If we step outside, will you sleep?” Brian asks.

John nods although none of them are certain he’s being honest. 

But he’s an adult! So they say goodnight and walk out of his room.

The 3 of them all sigh in relief that John is in one piece and faring well. If they had returned John in a lesser condition, they were sure Crystal would eat them.

And what a man their band mate is. Crystal made it look so easy and kept John functioning brilliantly. Crystal truly was a professional. They all wobble to their own rooms and sleep deeply that night.

When Crystal calls Brian the next morning, still on death’s door, Brian wants to cry. But instead he gets up and gets the other 2, ready to make today significantly better than yesterday.

“Fantastic, Deacy!” Brian said as he sat down his acoustic guitar besides himself, looking up at the shy bassist in front of him.

John just clung onto his own guitar, clearly giddy, beaming brightly. “Really?” he asked, his face going all warm.

Brian nodded, throwing his hands up to emphasize how genuine his sentiment was. “Really! You do rhythm guitar better than me and I’m not just saying that. This’ll sound brilliant on the album,” he said, flashing John a vampire-toothed smile before grabbing a pencil to scribble down some final notes on his music sheet.

Brian knew nothing about basses, but he knew a lot about guitars. Getting a compliment from Brian, a well versed guitarist, on his guitar playing was kind of a big deal. A really big deal in John’s eyes. While the two of them weren’t the closest of friends, John heavily respected Brian’s expertise. 

This compliment made John’s tummy light up with fireworks and his brain explode into a cloud of butterflies. He was a good guitar player. He was!

John stood up, gently setting his guitar down before letting out a few wrist crackling flaps, chittering happily to himself. 

Brian peered over at him through his curls, laughing softly before returning to his musical amending. It was always nice to see John so cheery. That was something Brian found endearing about the youngest. How obvious and loud his emotions were. While the negative ones were no fun to watch, the ones where he flapped and giggled and rocked to the beat always made him smile.

Once the pinwheels and sparklers died down in John’s system, he chuckled a little, a finger twirling around a lock of his hair. That was nice outburst of yellow and glimmer. A very nice one…because of Brian…!

John shuffled towards the eldest, tapping his shoulder when he didn’t notice his presence.

“Hmm?” Brian asked, eyebrows waggling, dropping his pencil to see what John wanted.

Without any words or explanation, John simply lifted up his right hand and held it in front of Brian’s face.

It took Brian a second to figure out what he wanted. A high-five.

In the Queen family, high-fives were sacred. Given out by John to those he really trusted and really really liked. Freddie was the first to get one, some 4 months into John joining the band. Roger got his a year later. 2 years on and Brian had never received such an honor. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him a bit seeing John high-five the other 2 all day, chirping and shaking his head all gleefully and then giving him only a pretty smile. It was John’s Thing though. If he wasn’t a part of it, he wasn’t. Not much he could do.

But right now, the holy grail was only inches away from his face. Wanting to waste not another moment, Brian brought his hand up, the two of them slapping the palms together in a thunderous, but oh so marvelous, clap.

The dopiest grin spread across Brian’s face as he pulled his hand back, peering up at John as if he had just given him a billion pounds. John wasn’t the best at reading facial expressions, but Brian’s emotions were as clear as day. His tummy felt all sparkly again.

Quickly, he scurried away from Brian, an idea having popped into his head. He liked seeing Brian so happy. Joy suited his mouth. Next to his guitar sat Beary, smiling as he always did. John picked him up and waddled back to the still dazed guitarist, offering up one of the bear’s golden paws to Brian.

Brian blinked and then looked at John, as if asking, Really?

John nodded, wriggling Beary’s paw.

Brian’s face shifted into something sad looking, but in actuality, he was so incredibly touched, he was on the verge of crying. His giant hand connected with the fluffy fur of Beary’s tiny and worn paw turning into a quiet and soft high-five. Brian had no idea why he wanted to cry, but from what he knew, none of the other boys ever got to high-five the bear before. He was first.

“Thank you,” Brian mumbled, his heart strings thoroughly tugged at, his throat growing a lump. John made Beary’s paws clap together.

Oh god.

Brian got up and ran away, having to hide in a bathroom stall to cry. Literally cry.

Too cute.