#justmyluck

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Getting off of the hour long plane ride, you were nervous. You and John had agreed that he would pick you up from the airport so you didn’t have to navigate through London alone. He told you he would be holding a sign with your name on it so you could find him. Other than that, you knew he had long hair, was about 5’11”, and was white. He knew your same basic information.

You walked through the gate, eyes scanning for John. But there were a lot of people. You walked along the outskirts of the path to avoid the crowd and saw something that made your breath catch in your throat. Not more than five feet from you diagonally to the left was the bassist from Queen. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing and found yourself moving further to the right but in line with him. From a high table that was there for people waiting, you watched him.

What in the world would he be doing here? Doesn’t he have people to do stuff like this for him? Also, what the fuck is his name? You thought to yourself. You knew that Jeanne would be disappointed that you couldn’t remember. Jeanne! Oh my gosh, she’s going to freak out when I tell her about this. So will John, he’s in the music industry, I bet he loves Queen, you supposed. You kept your eyes on the rockstar, his name finally coming to you as he turned slightly, allowing you to see what he was holding.

“John!” You said out loud.

Luckily, the gate was still bustling and your outburst had been drowned out. John Deacon of Queen was holding a sign that said “Y/N Y/L/N” in bold, carefully written letters. You felt dizzy as you stared on, legs weakening and your heart beating out of control. You couldn’t believe that the two Johns you had spent the past few months slightly obsessing over were one in the same. Of course, it had really been Queen, not just specifically John Deacon, but you still felt like your brain was melting and your eyes were playing tricks on you. As you stayed in the same place watching, you noticed that John had started looking a little worried and was checking his watch in between searching the area with his eyes. In another moment of surrealism, you remembered he was looking for you. You decided that you should go over and meet him, and that you would have to try to maintain yourself when you did.

You walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder saying, “Excuse me?”

John turned his head only very slightly and started to say, “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for some—” before you interrupted him.

“Johnny?”

Recognizing the nickname that only one person in the world called him, he whipped around and looked at you directly in the eyes. “Y/N.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

You quickly nodded, but were scanning every inch of his face to be sure it was truly him. As you examined his face, you saw a grin start to form on his lips and travel all the way up to his eyes, bringing your own eyes with it. Just the sight caused you to start smiling as well.

As you did, he exclaimed, “Y/N!” He laughed as he leant down to hug you, unable to contain himself as he squeezed you so hard you were lifted to your tip-toes. “I’m so excited to see you! It’s so good to meet you in person!”

“You too, Johnny,” you said a bit more quietly, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck as you stretched.

After a short pause where you both breathed in each other’s scent, you both laughed and John released you, settling you back down on your feet. Smiling at each other, both of you were silent for a moment, just taking each other in. Your mind was still a little hazy from the mix of the warmth of his body and the combination of smells of his cologne, shampoo, and just him when he spoke, catching you off guard.

“Um, do we need to go to the luggage claim to get your bag?” John asked, deciding he needed to move this meeting along, lest he just stare at you in the middle of your gate for the rest of the day. However, when he spoke, you started laughing, which confused him. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, perplexed.

You continued laughing as you replied, “Nothing, I just kind of forgot that you’re British. Like, you have an accent. For some reason I had never really thought about it before.”

With your explanation, he started laughing too, a light, breathy sound you could listen to forever. “Well, I’m not the only one with an accent you know, you have one too. I find it endearing, though, not something I want to laugh at,” he replied, teasing and you laughed again but didn’t miss his comment about being endearing. “So, your luggage…?”

“Oh, no, I just have this,” you replied, lifting your small duffel bag slightly. You had only brought your carry on from Seattle because you didn’t want to lug around your big suitcase and it was only for a week.

“Well, allow me then,” John offered, reaching for the strap of the bag. You acquiesced to his request, though for most people you wouldn’t have. He gestured with his free hand to the direction behind you, “I parked just across the way from the entrance, it’s not too far.”

“Okay,” you said as he started to walk and you followed. As you walked, your mind was stuck on who he was. I mean, he was honest about what he looked like, you mused. He looked exactly like the pictures from A Night at the Opera. His long, brown, slightly wavy hair with little bangs ending at his temples. His eyes, nose, lips, all exactly the same as the face you had repeatedly stared at with Jeanne since buying her the album. Other than trying not to stare at him too obviously, you were contemplating when or whether you should tell him that you recognized him. He hadn’t mentioned it himself in any of his letters, so maybe knowing that you’re a fan would freak him out. It might feel like an invasion of privacy. Although, to be fair, you knew much more about Johnny than you did John Deacon.

You were still lost in thought when he spoke up, “So, how was your flight?”

“It was good, much shorter than the one from Seattle, so that was nice. Thanks again for the tickets, you really shouldn’t have,” you replied.

“It was really no trouble, my work has free tickets for us all the time,” he said, brushing off your thanks.

By that time, the two of you had reached his car. Except it wasn’t a car. It was an unmarked black van, what you assumed Queen used to haul their gear. John announced, “Here it is,” and opened the back barn doors to place your bag inside.

You had stayed on the right side of the car, waiting to get in when John walked up next to you. “Hey, if you want to drive, that’s fine by me, but I think you’ll find the passenger side is on the left,” he teased, good-naturedly.

“Oh, right,” you said as you smiled sheepishly and headed to the other side.

John unlocked his door and got in, leaning over the middle console to unlock yours from the inside. You climbed in and got settled as he turned the key, bringing the car to life. He reached for the radio as he put the car into reverse and pulled out of the spot he was in and then the garage. He turned up the music only slightly so the two of you would be able to talk during the drive. The song that was playing was that one about not being afraid of the grim reaper (you were sure Jeanne would know the name of the song and the band), it made sense that he would listen to rock.

“So, my flat is pretty close, only about a ten minute drive from here,” he explained and you nodded. “My roommate will probably be there, if you remember me mentioning him?”

“Yeah, Brian,” you replied, thinking back to his letters.

“I didn’t say his name was Brian.”

Your eyes widened, realizing that he had only told you that he had a roommate that he worked with, and you only knew his name because of Queen and those celebrity magazines that Jeanne bought every so often. Of course the one time you remember anyone’s name is the one time it can get you in trouble.

“So you do know Queen, then? I was wondering if you were out of touch or something,” he said, laughing. He had wondered if you were ever going to recognize him and was surprised that you hadn’t come right out and said anything.

“Well you could have let me know yourself, you bastard,” you cried, hitting his arm but not hard. “But, no, you just gave me a fucking heart attack when I saw your sign at the gate after recognizing you!”

“Is that why you came up to me from behind?” he said with a cheeky grin. You looked away from him in a huff at the question and crossed your arms. He saw your reaction and tried explaining, “Okay, well I didn’t tell you because the boys advised me against it. They thought, and I’ll admit I agreed, that if you found out beforehand, you might have tried to manipulate me or something. We have to be pretty careful, and I hadn’t known you well for six years. It did surprise us when we figured out that you didn’t know who I was before that first letter.”

“Well, like I said, you can blame stupid 18 year old Johnny and Y/N for that,” you said in response, your manufactured anger fading, and you relaxed your arms by your sides. “I guess I understand why you had to take that precaution.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re so understanding,” he said, reaching over and touching your hand that was resting on the seat next to you. You stopped and looked down at your two hands, his larger one almost completely covering yours. As soon as he had placed it there, he moved it again to return it to the wheel so he could make a turn. As the car shifted, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on yours.

Clearing your throat, you said, “So is it safe to assume that your ‘job’ in music is actually Queen?”

“Ha ha, yeah. I didn’t want to completely lie to you or anything.”

“Well, at least it makes me feel better about the plane tickets. I’m not worried about Queen affording them,” you jabbed, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He laughed at your words and then the two of you fell into a silence. It was a little awkward, but mostly you were still caught up on who he was. Thinking back to those months since Jeanne’s birthday and how your eyes had immediately been drawn to John was almost unsettling. How could you reconcile the attraction you had felt to John Deacon of Queen with the affection and friendship you had with Johnny? You were still pondering that question when he pulled up to a row of buildings and parked.

“We’re here,” he said cheerfully, getting out to grab your bag. You hopped out too, and followed closely as he started walking toward the center of the block. His apartment was unlike yours because there was no inside connection between them. All of the entrances were separate and directly outside. There was no lobby or mailroom. As such, the two of you walked up a couple flights of stairs to his front door and he grabbed his keys.

He smiled at you and when you gave only a tight-lipped smile back, he tried to reassure you, “Hey, don’t be nervous, it’s only my roommate.”

You scoffed at his down-playing but replied, “I’m fine, it’s no big deal.”

He moved to unlock and open the door, pushing it open and letting you inside first. Walking in behind you but not looking as he closed the door, he bumped into you as he tried to walk further in. He looked at you and noticed a strange look on your face. Following your eyes, his mouth dropped open just like yours. His was from disappointment but yours was from pure overwhelment. In the living room before you was not just Johnny’s roommate, Brian, but also the rest of his bandmates. This time, you had no trouble remembering their names; Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor.

“Well, I guess we’re doing this,” Deaky sighed and ushered you the rest of the way inside with a little push on the shoulder. He put your bag down next to the entrance and then stepped up to you as he gestured for the other boys to stand up. Brian was first.

“Y/N, this is Brian May, Brian, this is Y/N Y/L/N,” Johnny explained.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Brian said warmly as he shook your hand.

“You too, Brian,” you said quietly, looking into his kind eyes.

Next was Freddie. “Y/N, this is Freddie Mercury, Freddie, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I don’t do handshakes, darling,” Freddie said and instead pulled you into a hug. You made a sound of surprise but hugged him back quickly. He pulled away, giving you a sweet smile before letting you go.

“Last and most certainly least,” Deaky said, earning a glare from Roger. “Y/N, this is Roger Taylor, Roger, this is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Mr. Roger Taylor,” you said under your breath. But it wasn’t quiet enough.

“Mr. Roger Taylor! I haven’t heard that before. I like it,” Roger replied, grinning with raised eyebrows.

“Did I say that out loud?” you asked, your eyes widening for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You tried to cover for yourself, “I’m so sorry, that’s just what my roommate calls you. I guess it stuck in my head.”

“Not to worry, love,” Roger reassured, grabbing your outstretched hand and making a mental note in his folder for that girl Jeanne. However, instead of shaking it, he pulled it to his lips, kissing your knuckles while maintaining strong eye contact and smirking. He said lowly, “A pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” you squeaked out after swallowing thickly. Looking back to Johnny, you saw daggers in his eyes and red on his cheeks; not directed at you, but at Roger. Roger just returned the look with an innocent smile.

“So, Y/N,” Brian started, trying to ease the tension in the air. “How are you enjoying Europe?”

“I love it! Tournai is amazing. I love the food and architecture and art. It’s a dream. And the students I’m teaching certainly learn English quicker than I learned French,” you replied with eyes and smile bright.

“That’s good! We spent a little time in Brussels on tour but didn’t get to see much, you should consider yourself lucky,” Freddie replied.

“Y/N, are you hungry? I was thinking we could go to dinner soon,” John suggested, stopping the others from asking you more questions. You didn’t mind them, but thought it would be best to go along with Johnny.

“Yeah, actually, I am. Dinner would be great!” you replied cheerfully. “Just let me go freshen up. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Bathroom? Oh, the toilet is just through that door,” Brian replied. You walked to the door that Brian pointed to and stepped inside, closing it behind you. Taking a deep breath, you looked in the mirror and took yourself in. There wasn’t too much damage to your appearance, probably because it had only been an hour flight.

Back in the living room, the boys were quietly arguing.

As soon as you had left, Deaky had turned to Freddie and Roger, “You guys weren’t supposed to be here. I had only told her about Brian. The two of you ambushed her!” he said in a harsh whisper.

“It wasn’t my fault, Freddie’s the one that convinced me we should come,” Roger whined with a pathetic look on his face.

“Thanks, love,” Freddie said to Roger, deadpan. “Deaky, did you really expect us not to want to meet her after hearing about her for months? Plus, she seemed to do fine,” he reasoned with John.

“That is true, Deaky. She obviously knows who we are by the way she reacted to that one,” Brian said, pointing to Roger. To that, Roger made a confused face and was ignored.

“Yes, when did she figure it out? Did she tell you right away?” Freddie asked, intrigued.

“Well, apparently she saw me holding my sign for her and recognized me as both the John she had been writing and the John from Queen. She was kind of angry I didn't tell her. Said I gave her a heart attack. I shouldn’t have thought she was going to try to manipulate me,” He said, shooting a surly look at Roger.

“What’s that look for? All of us had agreed that was best,” Roger replied, trying to defend himself.

“Whatever, at least she’s okay now. Just try not to be too ridiculous, you guys,” Deaky said, addressing them all but still only looking at Roger.

Freddie and Brian nodded in agreement as Roger threw his arms up in exasperation. Just as they did, you walked out of the bathroom and they all full-stopped and looked at you. You felt the heat rising to your cheeks and looked down as you stepped over to Johnny.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Johnny said, looking you over with a smile. You nodded so he continued, “Okay, guys, see you later.”

“Bye, Y/N!” the three said in unison, making you laugh as you waved goodbye. As Johnny closed the door behind you, you could hear the faint sounds of bickering and accusations.

“So, where are we going?” you asked happily. While you wanted to get to know the other boys, you were really excited to spend time with Johnny.

“I thought I would take you to the ultimate British food stop for your first meal in England,” he said, still not letting you in on where.

“Which is…” you prompted.

“A secret! If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise,” he said, smiling at you and bumping your shoulder with his own.

“Oh alright,” you agreed, laughing at his actions. It was mid-afternoon by now, reaching 5:00. A bit early for dinner, but Johnny must have assumed you’d be hungry now since in Tournai you were an hour ahead. He was right, and you were happy he would be so thoughtful. After walking for ten minutes while making idle chit chat, Johnny stopped suddenly while you were mid-sentence.

“So, I had to go to my hometown and my high school just to-- Why’d you stop?” you asked, perplexed.

“I just realized we walked right past the place,” he admitted, looking a little bashful. “Sorry, I must have been distracted.”

You giggled and walked back to him. “That’s alright. You were just caught up in my wondrous storytelling,” you joked, and reached up to touch his upper arm to reassure him.

He looked quickly down at your hand then back to your eyes before saying, “Yeah, caught up…” in a soft voice, not finishing the sentence and making you question what exactly he was caught up in. You pushed the thought from your mind and started walking, slowly so he could lead the way back.      

This time, he stopped more slowly, gesturing to the place in front of you two as your final destination. It was a tiny, old, shed-looking place. It was no wonder you had walked by it the first time. But when Johnny led you in, you instantly saw why he would like it. It was cozy, with warm lighting, a friendly atmosphere, and the delicious smell of fried food permeating the air.

He led you to the bar style counter and you two sat down on adjacent stools. An older man with greying hair and a long white beard walked up behind the counter and greeted Johnny.

“Deacon, good to see ya! Who’s this lovely young lady here?” he asked, smiling and looking at you.

“This is my friend, Y/N. She’s from the States so I thought I’d bring her here for her first taste of British food,” John told him as you smiled back at the man. “Y/N, this is Jimmy. He’s the owner and a wonderful chef.”

“Nice to meet you, Jimmy. Can I ask chef of what? Deacon here still hasn’t told me what we’re going to eat,” you said conspiratorially.

“That’s easy! It’s my specialty, and the only thing we sell here, fish and chips!” Jimmy replied with a laugh and grin.

“Well then, I can’t wait,” you told him. Jimmy left to go back in the kitchen and you saw Johnny mindlessly spinning back and forth slowly on his stool.

On his next spin towards you, you reached out and grabbed the stool on either side of his legs, ignoring how the warmth of his thighs made you feel. He jumped slightly and stopped spinning, mainly due to your hands keeping him there. Avoiding looking at your hands, he looked at your face with a questioning look.

“Why are you spinning? Bored of me already?” you joked and let go of his stool.

He cleared his throat then said, “No, um, just thinking. Thinking about the rest of the week,” he covered.

“I meant to talk to you about that. I don’t expect you to take me around all the time, I know you have to work and have other commitments.”

“No, of course I’m showing you around the whole time. I’m not going to let you have a second without me. By the end of the week, you’ll be sick of me,” he quipped. “Besides, I was trying to think of what you would like to see and what I want to show you. Do you have anything in particular you want to see?”

“Oh, I really want to see Buckingham palace, and Big Ben, and the Thames. And I’d love to see the National Gallery. I know they might be kind of touristy, but--”

“No, no, we’ll go anywhere you want to,” he reassured.

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you,” you replied. He blushed in return but you missed it, as Jimmy came back at the same time with your two baskets of food. Immediately your mouth watered at the look and smell and you couldn’t wait to dive in. You saw a little cup of white, lumpy sauce and were confused. You looked at Jimmy and said, “Do you guys have ketchup over here?”

Johnny looked at you with a funny face but Jimmy reached below the counter and said, “You’re lucky, I think we’re the only place that does for miles. My brother married an American girl so we always have some on hand. Enjoy.”

You turned your attention to your food but saw that cup of sauce again and asked John, “What’s this sauce?”

“It’s tartar sauce, for dipping the fish in. It’s good, you should try it,” he replied.

You hesitated but took one of the pieces of breaded fish and dipped the tiniest bit into the sauce, causing Johnny to laugh. You took the bite and hummed in satisfaction, “That’s actually really good! I’m surprised.”

You liked the tartar sauce but decided you wanted to eat it with ketchup as well. You squirted some on your plate and dipped your fish into it, taking the bite and nodding appreciatively. “This is so good too. Johnny, you have to try this.”

He made a face in response, “I’ve never even heard of ketch-up or whatever it is. I’m not too keen to try it with something already as perfect as this.”

“No, come on, you have to try. I tried your tartar sauce,” you persuaded. He sighed and nodded, ready to reach for the bottle and squeeze a tiny amount on his plate, but you moved first. You took the piece already in your hand, dunked it in the ketchup, held it up to his face and said, smiling, “Open up!”

He paused for just a moment and then took the bite, letting you feed him as he looked you in the eye. The smile fell from your face as you felt the intimacy of the action, causing your heart rate to increase and your breathing to get heavier. Luckily for you, he closed his eyes, missing the brunt of your reaction as he relished the taste of the fried fish and ketchup.

“Okay, you’re right. I think you’ve just converted me. That stuff is amazing,” he admitted, talking through a mouthful.

“Always am,” you replied cheerily to both of your laughs.

_____

The dinner continued with you two laughing and talking with Jimmy as well as just with each other.

Walking back to his apartment, he noticed your shiver and gave you his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders with care for what you thought was an extra second, but that might have just been your mind playing tricks on you.

You got to his apartment and walked in to find it empty and silent.

“This is a first,” he joked, turning on the lights. It was only 9:00 pm (admittedly, you guys stayed at the fish & chips shop way longer than necessary), but you were starting to get tired. The travel and excitement of the day had taken its toll on you and you were ready for bed.

You looked around, seeing your bag still by the door and said, “Johnny, I’m getting kind of tired, I think I’ll go to bed.” He just nodded in reply so you continued, “Where is it I’m sleeping?”

“Oh, right, that’s important to know,” he said, hopping up from where he had sat down on the couch. He walked over to a door in a hallway that was just off the living room, you following him, and declared while opening the door, “Right here!”

You stepped inside as he reached around you to turn on the light. Eyes adjusting, the room came into focus and you stopped. It was his room, or at least you assumed it was considering it was filled with personal items including a bass. You started saying, “Johnny--”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m not staying in here, I’ll be sleeping on the couch, so you’ll have my room all to yourself,” he said, proud of himself for thinking ahead.

“I’m still worried,” you replied.

He frowned and asked, “Well, why would that be?”

You scoffed and answered, “Because I don’t want to take your room from you and make you sleep on a little couch. You shouldn’t give up your room, your bed for me. I’ll take the couch; I’m shorter anyway.”

“Of course I should be, you’re my guest. Besides, I won’t have it any other way. If you try to sleep on that couch I’ll just sleep on the floor until you stay in here,” he challenged.

You sighed and realized there was no way you could convince him otherwise. “Alright, I’ll stay in here, you win,” you gave up.

“Brilliant! See, this is a good thing because I went to all of this effort to make my room nice for you, and if you would have stayed on the couch, it would have gone to waste! I vacuumed, bought new sheets, stole a candle from Fred, and even dusted,” he said, pleased with himself.

“Well thank you, Johnny. That’s incredibly nice. Those things wouldn’t have been wasted, though. You could have just enjoyed doing them for yourself,” you said logically.

“Uh-uh. I wouldn’t have appreciated it. Much less thanked me,” he replied and you laughed. He decided to leave so you could get ready for bed but before he did, you reached out your arms. He hugged you and for the second time that day, the two of you breathed in one another as subtlely as possible.

You turned your head to his ear and whispered, “Good night, Johnny,” releasing him from your grasp.

He shivered and tried to pass it off as a stretch before saying good night back and closing the door behind him. On opposite sides of the door, the two of you couldn’t see dreamy looks in each other’s eyes.

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