Thank God It's Christmas (Queen/Bohemian Rhapsody Holiday Oneshots!)

Chapter Eight

*Chapter is set in 1982 on New Years Eve.*

"You're Never going to guess what I got!!" Roger yelled, echoing against the tall ceilings of Garden Lodge, where the boys played with the old Scrabble board John gifted Freddie several years before.

"Oh, god, Roger.. don't tell me-" Brian sighed, cleaning up the remaining tiles from the game they just concluded.

"Son of a bitch..." Freddie grumbled under his breath, "You got those fucking bangers, didn't you?!"
Freddie had gone shopping with Roger for Boxing Day, carrying the tradition, when Roger's eyes were caught by a massive display of colourful fireworks. He was thankful that Roger purchased the smaller box, rather than the massive "Party Pack" they were selling. God can only imagine the hell he would've caused with anything more than a small box of gold fireworks.

"Should we set them off now?" The blonde grinned, slamming the box down on the table, and attempting to rip off the tape that enclosed the edges of the box.

"Don't be ridiculous Roger, it's ten o'clock, maybe we should wait until midnight?" Freddie suggested, walking into the kitchen to fill his first glass of champagne for the night, generously taking the time to fill a glass for each of the boys as well.

"You still have that old Scrabble board?" Roger questioned, baffled that the board was able to withstand that many death battles. Through tours, many holidays, a ridiculous amount of fights and arguments, that Scrabble board had somehow survived longer than his first marriage.

"What do you mean still? She's in perfect condition! Freddie defended, holding up the board and the letter tiles that were in shockingly great condition. Since then, Freddie had also been gifted a new large notebook for keeping score that matched the board, engraved with "Mercury" and titled "The Death Match Scoring Book". Inside were some positive affirmations and prayers incase Roger got a bit too competitive.

"I'll never forget how you and Bri-"

"Don't remind me."

An hour had passed, three of the four drinking their hearts out. Brian knew he would be stuck helping Roger with these god awful fireworks, so he tried not to drink as much, although Freddie Mercury always made staying sober a challenge. He tried his hardest to have a good time. If those fireworks were going to kill him, he wanted to spend his last moments somewhat happy.

"Eleven-thirty!" Roger clapped his hands, opening the door into Freddie's massive garden, each one of Fred's feline friends turning their heads, eyes growing wide as the freezing air was let through the door.

"Ah! Freddie!" Roger shouted when Tiffany, a particularly cheeky cat of Freddie's, slipped between his legs and out the door.

Brian jumped up, following Freddie outside, his socks being soaked by the damp grass. Should've worn those damn clogs instead.

"What the hell, Roger?! You could've killed the poor animal!"

"Tiffany, love, no!" Freddie called, running outside to collect his cat. He ran with his arms spread wide, crouched slightly, Brian throwing a handful of cat treats towards the door every few seconds. "Tiffany, up to your room. You know not to go outside!" Freddie crossed his arms, pointing sternly up the stairs. The situation had nearly given Brian a heart attack, a sheer heart attack, at that. At one point, he became so frightened that he started contemplating if the badger rescue houses he'd built would work for cats.

"Up to your room? You really treat those cats like your kids."

"Oh, shut up John. Cats are much better than having a bunch of kids", Freddie laughed, Roger running past him out into the garden. "Not like you would know."

"I haven't got all night!" Roger screamed into the house. Brian hadn't heard him yell that loudly since he said I'm In Love With My Car "wasn't strong enough."

"Freddie, where are those matches?!"

"I've got them. Please just come outside so Roger stops throwing a fit." Freddie sighed, filling another glass of expensive champagne. He'd lost count of how many glasses he had to drink that night, but he certainly needed every last sip after dealing with Roger's childish behavior.

++|++

"Alright, I've got the matches, and-"

"I set them up myself! Since you took forever!" Roger pushed off his knee, pulling himself up from the ground, stumbling backwards and nearly knocking Freddie over.

"Yeah, okay. I think I'll handle this myself..."

"Five minutes." Roger tapped his foot, looking down at his watch, sipping the alcohol he'd definitely had enough of.

"Would you hold on one second? I'd rather not die tonight!" Brian fumbled with the instruction manual, that despite his protests, Roger crumbled and threw away. He tried his best to make out the words and poorly printed diagrams that were wrinkled and covered in dirt, dust, and god knows what else.

Roger insisted on setting off the fireworks exactly at midnight, so at eleven fifty-nine, Brian was crouched next to the small tube that Roger had (very poorly) set up.

"John, just hold this fuse for me, please."

John held the fuse tightly, Brian praying he wouldn't accidentally light John's finger on fire.  With the hit Under Pressure riff Deacy had just come up with, they would need the bass player around for a little bit longer.

"Three-Two-" Roger counted down eagerly, Brian carefully lighting the fuse John held.

"ONE!" Roger and Freddie screamed together, Freddie popping a bottle of champagne behind him.

"What the hell!" Roger scoffed, looking up at the sky that was not shining with the golden fireworks he bought. "I paid my hard earned money for those!" He shouted, squinting as he put his head directly above the tube.

"Roger, no!" Brian yelled, pulling him back by his hair.

"Ow, Brian, what the-" The drummer's shouting was cut off by the shining gold fireworks shooting loudly out of the top of red tube.

"You're welcome. Just saved your life." Brian patted himself on the back, thankful that he had the common sense to pull Roger away.

"Pretty!" Freddie smiled, pointing up at the glittering sky, which soon faded, being covered by a thick blanket of smoke.

"Happy New Year, Roger." John rolled his eyes, now with a slightly charred fingertip, and a little bit more trauma, but still shockingly in one piece.

"Happy New Year."

Brisus here single-handedly saving everyone.
Bri!
Ah-ah!
Saviour of the universe!
(Sorry.)