#maybe he can snag an alfa romeo seat

[frances-baby-houseman]

aww man i'm watching an old drive to survive while I'm working and Daniel says, about his new Renault teammate Nico Hulkenberg, "naturally you don't want a teammate to be the next best thing and ruin your career early." That's what happened with him and Lando! how the tables have turned.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Dancing through a dream

Merry Christmas @yourlocalmusicalprostitute I really hope you enjoy this little fic I wrote for you, based off the suggestion “Deaky dancing and having a night out with someone after he sneaks off to a disco, and he may or may not see them again.” This is part of @sohoneyspreadyourwings and her Queen/ BohRhap secret Santa 2019.

wishing you all a very Merry Christmas Lovies <3 <3 <3

                                                          *****                                                                                                           

John Deacon was, for lack of a better word, unimpressed with Ridge farm studios. His distaste towards the farm stemmed not from the dismal weather they had been experiencing this entire week, nor from Freddie’s insistent need of rerecording everything five bloody times. No, his bad mood was caused by the serious lack of night life around the studio, also the lack of new faces. John had seen the same few people everyday since arriving at the farm, and it was doing his head in. While he wasn’t always the most social of people, even one Mister John Deacon desired new conversational partners! And to top it off, if he heard Brian and Roger arguing one more time, it was entirely possible he would commit a murder. Though in his honest opinion, it would be doing the world a favour if there were one less blonde haired, blue eyed pretty boy running around.

Hearing what sounded like a cymbal be thrown against the recording studio wall, John perked up on his spot on the sofa in the sound booth. When he had last been paying attention to the band, before zoning out with his book, Freddie had suggested Roger practise his sections of Seaside Rendezvous one last time, before recording. Clearly, in the twenty minutes that had passed since Freddie suggested this, Roger had had enough of practising, and wanted to get recording. Either that, or he was looking to try his hand at a career in professional Frisbee playing.

Brian groaned deeply as he made his way into the recording booth, glaring at the argument that had arose between Roger and Freddie. John noted that if he were a better man, he too would walk in, and attempt to break up the fighting, if only he were a better man. Tilting his head to the side, John looked over at Paul Prenter, who sat far too close for comfort in an armchair towards the back of the room, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Paul just didn’t sit right with John, and he loathed having to spend any time with the man. As if sensing his staring, Paul looks over at John, a small smile on his lips.  John barely hides the cringe that crosses his own features, masking the look with a faux sneeze, as he pushes himself up and off the sofa. “Where’re ya off ta?” Paul asks, as if he actually cared, the only person he ever seemed to be interested in was Freddie.

John shrugs, collecting his jacket from the arm of the sofa, draping it over his arms. “It’s late, I might grab some food.” Although the answer was vague, it seemed to appease Paul, who quickly turned his attention back to what looked to be a wrestling match between two brunettes and a blonde. “If you see blood, please at least try and break them apart.” John sighs, gesturing towards his band mates with his elbow. Paul nods noncommittedly, and John finds himself suddenly struck with the worry, that he may return as a solo act, and no longer part of a band. He can’t help but wonder how Roy Foster would react to that news…. As he makes his way out of the studio, passing through the kitchen on his way to the small room he had been assigned, John pauses in the doorway, one foot inside his bedroom, and the other hovering in the hallway.  “What the hell are you doing Deacon?” He muttered, glancing up at the wooden clock, which ticked away ominously above his bed. It was barely even eight thirty, why on Earth was he even considering going to bed? It’s Saturday for goodness sake!

Backing out into the hall once more, John makes a beeline for Roger’s room, pushing the door open and stepping in, heading straight to the mountain of clothes that littered the wooden floor. Roger had explained his clothes sorting to John in the past, the pile closest to the bed were all clean, nearest the door were dirty and should absolutely not be worn, and the pile in-between were worn but still cleanish. 

There, sitting right on top of the clean pile was the Black jacket with white embroidered flowers, exactly what he was looking for. The jacket had made the rounds with the four men so many times now, no one quite knew who it belonged to. Though Freddie was adamant it was his. Throwing his tee-shirt off and into the dirty pile, John then slipped on the jacket, buttoning it halfway up, leaving his chest completely exposed. The bell bottom jeans he wore, and black boots matched well enough along with the jacket he decided, upon looking himself over in the mirror. Finally, he snagged Roger’s car keys from the bedside table, shoving them into his back pocket alongside his wallet. Surely Rog won’t need the car tonight?

Gravel crunches underfoot as John makes his way towards Roger’s Alfa Romeo Spider, the cherry red car parked just by the gate leading to the studio. As he passes by the recording studio, the dull sounds of yelling could be heard echoing around the quiet farm, apparently the fight was still in full swing, no one would notice his departure for quite some time then.

                                                       *****

“Two pints of lager, and two grasshoppers please.” You grin as you lean over the bar, handing a wad of cash to the young man who dutifully prepared your order. He was cute, though in the dim lighting the club offered, and the copious amounts of liquor you had consumed this past hour, you would easily consider anyone at least marginally attractive. “You should wish me a happy birthday.” You giggle, as the man hands you your change, watching as you tuck it away in your back pocket.

“Happy birthday, maybe I’ll come find you later for a dance?” He grins, eyes darting over to where your small group of friends had congregated at the back of the club.

Your shoulders shrug as you walk backwards, a dangerous thing to do with drinks when sober, let alone when tipsy. “Maybe I’ll see you later then…” Your words are likely drowned out by the next person placing their order, along with the DJ who had decided to return from his break, ABBA now blasting from the speakers. Taking a seat at your table, you pass around the drinks, keeping one grasshopper for yourself.

“You seemed to be getting friendly with the bartender?” Jazmin grins, sipping her lager cautiously, her flaming red hair a frizzy mess from all the dancing she had been doing.

You roll your eyes, placing your drink back down on the sticky table. “I was trying to get us either cheap or free drinks. I even pulled the, it’s my birthday trick!” You whine, a fake pout crossing your lips.

“And he didn’t buy it?” Kasey gasps, her bright green eyes growing wide in shock.

“I mean, he wished me a happy birthday, and then said he might come and dance later. But that’s not what I wanted.”

“That’s not what we wanted either!” Kasey laughs, stirring her grasshopper with her finger.

Ever the voice of reason, Bianca sighs deeply. “Did you pay him before or after you told him it was your birthday?”

You blink twice, attempting to recall the events of moments ago. “Um, before.” Ah, there lies your problem…

“I’ll let you think that one over as to why your plan didn’t work. While you do that, I’m going to go and dance!”  Bianca grins, as she moves away from table, moving her hips along to the beat as she goes.

Taking one final large gulp of your cocktail, you make to follow your friend, the music flowing through you nicely as you join Bianca on the dance floor, moving your body along to the beat. Your hair flowed freely behind you, as you swayed, arms circling above your head. The silver sequin jumpsuit you wore caught the bright disco lights, reflecting pinks, purples, blues and yellows all around. You had inadvertently made yourself into a disco ball, but damned if you didn’t look amazing! “Get it on, bang a gong, get it on!” You sing along, shaking your head to the deep bass lines of the T-Rex hit.

“Get it on is right, check out who just walked in.” Jazmin whispers against your ear, resting her hands on your bare shoulders, and turning you to look towards the club entrance. You couldn’t help but stare, your mouth going dry as you take in the tall, thin man who had just arrived. His eyes crinkled at the sides as he looked around, a small smirk on his lips as his gaze passed over the dancers, resting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, making his way further into the club, a slight bounce in his step.

                                                      *****                    

Disco! My goodness John had missed disco! It had been nearly an entire month since he had last had the opportunity to go to a disco, but just hearing the bass heavy music made him realise that the near hour drive he had just taken to get here was well worth it. Bodies packed the dance floor like sardines in a can, which only caused his grin to widen, Brian, Freddie and Roger didn’t understand how he could enjoy dancing when being pressed close to so many other people, but John just loved it. As the song changes once again, John shuffles onto the dance floor, throwing himself into the music with his entire body, allowing the beat to soak into his very being, allowing himself to become one with the music. Looking around his fellow dancers, John’s eyes catch yours, a shared grin passing between the two of you. No words are spoken, not that it would matter, nothing can be heard over the loud thrumming of music. John quirks an eyebrow, and your grin deepens, before you dance your way over to him, spinning into his outstretched arms, stopping abruptly once you come into contact with his chest. John tightens his grip around your waist for a few moments, before sliding his hands away, allowing you to turn and face him. “Hello.” You smile, gazing at him.

John grins, bowing his head gently in greeting. “Hello love, fancy a dance?” It was a rather redundant question, as the two of you had already begun moving with one another, as if you were made to be dance partners.

You take a step forward with your left foot, and John steps back with his right, bodies nearly touching, but never quite. “Perhaps multiple dances?” You smirk, a glimmer shining in your eyes.

He could hardly complain, dancing with you was incredible, you moved in such an elegant manner and matched his moves perfectly. It was as if you had been dance partners before, though he was positive he would remember you if he had. “So, what brings you out tonight?”

You smile sweetly, eyes locking with John’s. “My friends and I, we just graduated, so we decided to come out and celebrate for the evening. Get a few drinks and dances into us before we experience the ‘real world’”. You giggle, rolling your eyes at the idea of going out into the world.

“Oh, well sounds like congratulations are in order!” John chuckles, making the bold move to rest his hands on your waist once again, pulling you closer against him, your bodies standing pressed chest to chest now.

The rapidly changing lights do a good job in concealing the blush which steadily covers your cheeks and neck. Tingles shoot through your body at this man’s contact, delicious chills spreading throughout your entire nervous system. “Thank you. So, I must ask, is your name as handsome as the rest of you?” Your boldness even you, but you try to hide that fact.

John chuckles shaking his head softly, long brunette locks falling over his shoulders. “I’m John, but my mates call me Deaky.”

“Deaky? Is there any reason behind that one?”

“It’s a nickname for my surname. Apparently, Deacon is too long, so it’s Deaky now.”

“Ahh, well I like it. It’s great to meet you Deaky, I’m Y/N.”

John takes your hand, spinning you away from him, before abruptly pulling you back to him once more. “Wonderful to meet you too.” He grins, eyes crinkling at the sides, faint dimples showing on his cheeks.

                                                      *****

“Okay Deaky, let’s get this show on the road!” Freddie calls, as he steps out of the recording booth, having listened to Roger practise long enough now. He would never admit it, but he was ever so grateful for Brian, for having come in a short while ago to diffuse the argument that had kicked up between himself and the hot-headed drummer. In his defence however, he had every right to request Roger practice some more, all day he had been getting sloppier and sloppier, and this record simply had to be perfect! Freddie stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze moving from the sofa where he had seen Deaky earlier, Paul was still sat in his armchair, numerous cigarette butts in and ashtray by his feet. Goodness, how long had the three of them been in the recording booth? “Paul? Where’s Deaky gone?”

Paul looks up from the magazine he had been flipping through, looking first at the sofa, then to Freddie, his eyebrows lifting as if he had only just noticed John missing. “I – I’m not. Think he might’ve gone ta get some food?”  

Freddie nods solemnly. “How long ago?”

Paul shrugs slightly. “Not too long ago, I think.

With a sigh, Freddie turns back the way he came, poking head back through door and looking between Brian and Roger. “I don’t mean to panic you, but I think Deaky may be missing.”

“What do you mean, don’t panic?” Brian gasps, placing his guitar on its stand in an instant, hands resting on his hips.

“How long has he been missing?” Roger chimes in, slowly standing from his drum kit, hovering just above it, resting his drumsticks in his back pocket.

Paul makes his way in beside Freddie, biting his lower lip, in an almost guilty way. “Um, since when you all started arguing I think.” He sighs, looking directly at Freddie, whose eyes had grown wide.

“Paul! That was ages ago!” Freddie cries dramatically.

“Okay, let’s spread out, he’s got to be around here somewhere.” Brian suggests, pointing everyone in various directions to search for the missing bassist.

Roger makes his way outside, checking the usual haunts for where he had often found John taking a smoke, while also enjoying the view of the farm. However he turned up nothing, well, not nothing. His car was no where to be seen, which was both odd and worrying, as the thing hadn’t been touched in nearly a week! Racing back into the recording studio, he eagerly awaits the return of the others. Paul is the first to return, informing him that there was no sign of John. Next entered Brian, followed closely by Freddie, each with the same news, no John. “My car is gone, I think he’s gone out.”

Brian’s eyebrows crease in the centre as he takes in Roger’s words. “But where would he go? And why wouldn’t he tell anyone.”

“Perhaps because we were all a tad occupied with yelling at each other?” Roger smirks shaking his head.

For a moment it looks as if Brian were about to disagree, though quickly thinks better of doing so, and instead releases a deep sigh. “So what do we do then? Go out and try and find him?”

Roger shrugs, twirling one of his drumsticks between his fingers. “He’ll come back, he probably just wanted some time out. He was going a bit stir crazy, maybe a night out will be good for him?”

“But what if he’s hurt? Or lost!” Freddie gasps, wide eyes darting between the three men in the room.

“I’m sure he’s fine Fred. And for once, I agree with Rog, Deaky’ll be back.” Brian offers with a small smile, trying his best to reassure the panicked singer.

“Suppose that puts and end to recording then?” Roger grins widely, his blue eyes sparkling at the idea of packing it in for the night.

“Yes, I suppose it does. We can’t do much without our bassist.” Freddie sighs, pouting softly. He turns to leave the room, deciding he may as well get something to eat, it had been a few hours since he last ate, and maybe by the time he had finished, Deaky would be home?

                                                      *****

 “That was the most fun I’ve ever had!” You squeal, arms draped over John’s shoulders, your intense dancing having now slowed down to a gentle sway, with his arms safely locked around your waist, where they had been for the majority of the night.

John grins, drawing soft circles against your hips with his thumbs. The music had long since been turned down, most of the club’s occupants having left for the evening. He could understand why, it was nearing three in the morning, and even he was beginning to feel rather drowsy.  “I’ve had an amazing time too.”

You smile up at John, eyes falling to his soft pillowy lips, you would dearly love to kiss him, just to find out if his lips are as soft as they look of course, and not because you think you may be falling for this cheeky man. “We should do this again sometime soon.”

“I would love to, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in town though.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say, this was just your luck, you find yourself the most amazing man, then find out you may never see him again.

“But I’ll try to come back as often as possible, it will just be a bit of a drive is all. Maybe I could give you my phone number, you know, to exchange dance tips?” John grins, a blush spreading along his cheeks.

You can’t help but grin, nodding eagerly as you drag John towards the now closed bar, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser which sat on the ledge. You peer over the bar, spotting a pen hidden behind a tub of stuffed olives, perfect! Careful to not tear the napkin, you scrawl you phone number, passing the other napkin and pen to John so he can do the same. Finally, you exchange napkins, grinning at one another. “Well, I had best find my friends.” You smile, rocking back on your heels, arms swinging by your sides.

John nods slowly, his heart hammering in his chest “Y/N, before you go, could I maybe…” He doesn’t finish his sentence; you’ve cut him off by pressing your lips firmly against his. The move clearly takes John by surprise, and it takes him a few moments to realise what was happening. Slowly at first he moves his lips with yours, allowing you to set the pace, and that you do. You step closer, circling your arms around his neck, as his go around your waist once again, moving your lips against his with more force, attempting to keep him as close to you as possible. His lips truly were just as soft as you had imagined, and the taste of beer and cigarettes on his tongue was intoxicating.

You pull away slowly, keeping your arms in place, and resting your forehead against his. “Promise to call me soon?” You whisper, your breath fanning across his lips like a ghost.

John nods, his eyes half lidded in bliss. “I promise.”

A smile spreads across your lips, red and swollen from the glorious exchange of moments before. Reluctantly you slip your arms away from John as he does the same, and you both make slow departures, him heading towards the exit to make his way back to the farm, where as you scope out the few remaining clubbers, searching for your friends. The idea of dancing with John Deacon again sometime soon keeping a smile plastered to your lips.