#borhap!john deacon

Freddie was always winking at you from the side of the stage, making you laugh and Brian and Roger would make faces at you. You had become such a fixture in their lives, having been with John for ages. They all knew how you felt about crowds. That's why it was not unusual to find you and John tucked together in the corner of whatever room the band had commandeered for the afterparty, each about three drinks deep and talking in each other's ears. Brian and Chrissy were somewhere in the crowd, you could see Brian’s hair from where you were sitting. Freddie was off his noggin again, whooping from the opposite end of the bar, with Mary close by his side. It was crowded, but not chokingly so.

The groupies knew who to stay away from, they knew Brian was married and that you and John were about to be. Freddie would rather die than leave Mary so Roger was their only hope. They chose to crowd him rather than the other members of the band. It was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because when the feeling of panic washed over you, its grip tightening on your stomach, no one was looking.

A blessing that when your grip tightened on John’s leg and his face swept with concern, no one was there to ask what was wrong.

A curse because in order to get to the nearest door, John had to pull you through the throng of girls that had closed in on Roger.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to let the tears fall from your eyes as John pushed his way through. His hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer to his body. Your hand rested on his back, letting him know that you were still there. A stiff breeze hit your face but it did nothing for your shortness of breath, the night air feeling cold and oppressive. As soon as you were clear of the door, John pulled you to him, backing up so your back was against the wall and his hands were cupping your face.

“Breathe, my love.” John’s voice was soft and his warm breath washed over your face. “Remember the thing that your therapist taught you. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight.” You copied his breathing and the world spun a little less but the grip on your stomach wasn’t letting up and your throat still felt like it was closing.

He leaned his forehead against yours and continued to breathe with you, rubbing calming circles on your cheeks.

The tears you had been holding in started to fall and you buried your face in his neck and his arms moved to wrap around you, holding you steady. “I-I’m so sorr-sorry John,” you wept, your tears wetting the collar of his shirt.

“Shhh, there is nothing to be sorry for. I know how the crowds get sometimes.” His voice was so soft, it was almost inaudible. “But you’re ok now. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” His arms suddenly felt constrictive and your body felt too hot.

“John let me go,” you could feel the bile rising in your throat and you looked for a place, anywhere that would be more ideal than right beneath you. You lurched away from his hands, throwing up what was in your stomach into the gutter. The tears pricked at your eyes again, the taste of bile in your throat and the feeling of tightness in your chest returning.

Strong hands pulled you up off your knees and into a warm body. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” a warm kiss was pressed to your head, steadying you against the wall before disappearing. The warmth returned about an eternity later, wrapping your coat around you and piling you into the car. You let your head rest against the seat, the feeling of the car coming to life beneath you almost comforting. The ride back to your small apartment was short, but it felt like two eternities had pressed together. The tightness in your chest didn’t leave, just loosened slightly.

The car rumbled to a stop and a pair of hands lifted you from the car, your body limp and your breathing still rapid and shallow, like you had just run a marathon. John stood with your back pressed against his chest as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside. He gently herded you toward the bathroom, lifting you onto the counter. He pressed your toothbrush into your hand and you cracked a smile at him, looking at him through hazy eyes. He started the bath, turning the water on warm before turning his gaze back to you. He started with your shoes, removing them and placing them neatly beside you. Next was your skirt, his nimble fingers pulling the elastic from your hips, down your legs before folding it and placing it on top of your shoes.

You swished your mouth out, rinsing the excess toothpaste before smiling softly at him and raising your arms to aid him in ridding you of your shirt. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, before helping you remove your necklaces and bracelet, leaving your engagement ring on.

You stood on shaky legs and he helped you rid your body of your undergarments before easing you into the bath.

John pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering “I love you” before standing. You quickly caught his hand and looked up at him.

“Stay.” A request and command wrapped in one.

“I’ll be right back,” he squeezes your hand before disappearing. You tuck your knees up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. John returns, hair wild and chest heaving from running and before quickly removing his clothes, not bothering to fold them as he had yours. You moved away from the back of the tub to make room for him. He stepped in carefully before pulling you to his chest, his hands warm.

That is how you stay for a while, just holding each other. Eventually, John’s fingers found their way into your hair, gently massaging your head. The tightness in your chest has eased and your throat felt almost back to normal.

A low hum escaped your throat as his skilled fingers moved your head to dip just below the still warm water, wetting your hair. He pressed kisses to your face before pulling you back to his chest. He slowly worked shampoo into the roots, lightly scratching with his nails.

You could feel him start to hum melodies as he repeats the process with conditioner. A smile creeps onto your face when you recognize “Misfire”.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder once your hair is done. You can see every detail of his jaw and cheeks from this angle. The faded yellowish hickey on the corner of his jaw from a rather interesting make out session days ago, the barely-there stubble and the movement of this Adam’s apple when he swallowed.

“Of course,” he whispered back, the wet tips of his hair tickling your face as he leaned forward to press a kiss onto your lips. “Shall we go to bed?” You nod and he gets up, trying not to slosh the water in the tub. He wraps a towel around his hips and held a hand out for you. You take it, easing your tired body out of the tub. He wraps the other towel around you, brushing your wet hair from your face with his fingers. “I love you so much,” he tells you, kissing you.

“I love you too,” you answer him when he pulls away. You two wander down the hall to your room, your clothes from earlier forgotten in the bathroom. A pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt is waiting for you on the bed. John had really thought of everything. You both slipped into your clothes, the soft beckon of the bed growing stronger. You settled back into the bed, the events of the day washing over you.

John feels the wet tears fall from your eyes onto his neck and he just hums, rubbing your back and running his hands through your still wet hair. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, your voice shaky and watery.

“Don’t apologize for something like that,” John speaks, holding you close to his chest. Slowly the tears stop falling and your breathing evens out. John smiles and lets the lovely darkness of sleep slip over him.

John wakes to an empty bed and a steaming mug of tea on the bedside table. The bed was still a little warm so you couldn’t have left long ago. He stretches, picks up the tea, sipping it. He smiled, you made it just how he likes it. The smell of breakfast began to fill the room and he gets out of bed, still holding the mug and trudges down the hall to the kitchen. He leans against the doorway, watching you putter around the kitchen, sending toast into the toaster before turning to attend to the eggs on the stovetop.

Your hair was pulled away from your face, the old shirt practically hanging off your frame.

“Well good morning,” John grinned, sipping his tea. You jumped slightly before smiling at him.

“Good morning,” You smile back at him. He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing several soft kisses to the crook of your neck.

“Feeling better?” You nod and smile slightly at him. You turned off the stove and portioned the eggs onto two plates, placing toast with them, before turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck.

“Thank you for last night. I’m sorry I made you leave the party early.”

“You know that I would do anything for you, even when it means I get to leave parties early. I’ll always take care of you because I love you.” Your heart melted at his words and you kissed him, threading your fingers through his long, messy bedhead.

“I love you so much, John Deacon.” You whisper as you pull away. He smiles knowingly, pressing a kiss to your forehead and picking up a plate before sitting down at your tiny table.

Breakfast was quiet between you two, stealing glances over bites of toast and sips of tea.

As it was Saturday, you didn’t have work and John had nothing but the show that night so you spent the day in the flat.  You were currently reading your favorite book, the one you’d had since secondary school so it was practically falling apart. Sitting longways on the couch, your book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, you felt at peace.

The memory of last night was practically gone, thanks in part to the wonderful man sitting at the other end of the couch, who was engrossed in his writing.