Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy (JoeMazzello!JohnDeacon fanfic)

one

It's surprisingly warm when the train rumbles into the London station, which one, Roxanne doesn't remember but she just hopes that Roger is there to meet her. 

Roger is her older cousin and like always, he'd promised to meet her at the station so he could take her back to the flat that he shared with his friend and bandmate Brian. 

It's been a couple of years since she's come down here, the last time was the summer of '70 and a lot has apparently changed. 

This bit always makes her nervous. Coming from a little fishing village in Scotland to London, it always takes a wee bit of getting used to - she's a little fish in a big pond but she knows that by the time it comes for her to leave, she won't want to. 

Grabbing her case, she drags it to the door, hastily apologising when she falls into some woman who pins her the nastiest glare.  

Rude. She said she was sorry. 

Eventually, the door opens and immediately, she's being jostled left and right by people who are wanting to do the same as her - get off this damn train. Eventually, she manages and after straightening her shirt, she pulls the case and follows the swarm of people heading toward the exit. 

Roxanne soon realises that this is hopeless. She's never going to find Roger in this crowd and so she changes direction when she sees a bench and climbs up onto it. 

"Come on, blondie," she whispers, scanning the building for her cousin, "Where the fuck-oh!" 

She sees him. Actually, she sees Brian tall figure first. He's looking rather embarrassed and she soon sees why. 

Her cousin is standing just a couple of feet away, arm propped up on the wall as he flirts with a pretty young brunette, who's blushing and has her hand on his waist. 

"Some things never change," Roxanne shakes her head, jumping down off of the bench to grab her case again. 

The crowd is thinning out now and so it's not as difficult to find a clear path to get to them and as she gets closer, she gets an idea. 

She puts on her best heartbroken face, even gets a little tear to run down her face as she stands just in front of them, "Rog?"

Both her cousin and the girl look at him and his face drops. He knows exactly what she's about to do.

"Rog?" she repeats, throwing in a little lip tremble just for the hell of it, "What are you doing. Who's that?"

"Rox-"

"I left my family for you, Roger Taylor. I've come all the way down here a-"

"I'm sorry," the brunette whispers, casting a scathing look at Roger, "I have to go, my train is leaving."

"You said you just got in," Roger asks, confusion written on his face. 

"And now I have to leave again."

As she walks away, Roger glares at his cousin while Brian's snickering into his hand, "You're a bitch." 

"Aw I missed you too, Roger!" she giggles, letting go of the case to hug him and he reluctantly wraps his arms around her shoulders. 

She means it. She has missed him. 

"It's good to see you, Nessie," Roger says, ruffling her hair and she rolls her eyes at the horrible nickname. 

It's just because she's from Scotland.

"Good one," she deadpans, turning to Brian and opening her arms, "Brian!"

"Roxanne," he says softly, wrapping his arms around her and she marvels at his curls.

"Your hair's gotten longer. I like it."

"Alright," Roger huffs, still upset over the brunette getting away and he yanks Roxy's suitcase from her hands, "Let's go, shall we?"

She nods, looping her arm through Brian's as they start making their way towards the station's exit, "I'm excited to see this new flat of yours."

"Don't get too excited. It may be two bedrooms but it's not at all big," Brian explains as they wander towards Roger's van. 

She frowns. Where was she going to sleep?

As if reading her mind, after tossing her case into the back of the van, Roger turns her their way and leans against it, "You'll have to sleep on the couch, Nessie. I did try telling you that over the phone and not to bother coming but you wouldn't shut up."

"Oh," she waves a hand, "That's fine. As long as there's a couch, I'm completely fine."

Roger holds out a hand so she can climb into the back, despite Brian offering her the seat up front and after navigating her way around the drum kit and other instrumental stuff in the van, she somehow manages to find a box where she can park her arse just as Roger starts driving. 

"How was the journey?" Brian asks, looking over his shoulder at her and she leans forward to pop her head between the two seats. 

"It was alright. The train was lovely but the bus to the station? Oh no. There was this woman, she got on the bus at the same time as me, right? And I was at the bus stop first and so naturally, I thought that I'd get to be the first one on. But no, this woman, she tries to push her way past me. Now, I don't know about you boys but where I come from,"

"The middle of nowhere," Roger snickers, yelling when she smacks the back of his head, "I am driving!"

"As I was saying, where I come from, that is not proper bus stop decorum. If you're the first one at the bus stop, you are the first one on the bus. Everyone knows this!"

Roger looks at Brian as his cousin continues to witter on, raising an eyebrow as he deliberates just dropping her off here and now. 

"So," Roger groans when she starts speaking again, "How's the band? How's Tim?"

"Actually," Brian turns in his seat to look at her again, "Tim's no longer with us."

Roxanne's eyes widen, "He died?"

"What, no!" he cries, "No. He thought his talents would be more useful with another band."

"Who?"

"Humpy Bong," Roger mutters bitterly. 

"Humpy Bong?" she repeats, "Hump-are you joking? What kind of name is that for a band?"

"Thank you," her cousin sings, "That's what I said."

"So what are you guys doing now? I mean, are Smile still going?"

"We're Queen now."

Queen? How regal. 

"Yeah, you'll probably meet Freddie and John tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Roxanne asks, "What's tomorrow night?"

"Well, we're hoping to get a gig at the Lion and the Unicorn. It's the pub to play for up and coming bands."

"Hoping being the key word there," Brian says, "The owner doesn't let just anyone play. You've got to be good."

"And that's what we are, think we're one of the better ones around," Roger mutters and Roxanne rolls her eyes. 

Of course he'd think that. 

"Let's just hope that Freddie uses his charm."