#disabled queen

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!)

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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.” 

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