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

forty eight

funky little disco joe

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John thought that Roxanne would be home by the time he went to bed but he was wrong and that was at one-thirty and Roget was still watching horror films on her t.v. 

He didn't worry though, she was out having fun and so he left one of the lights in her living room on for when she finally did come in and went to bed. 

Casper and Amos took full advantage of the large empty space beside him; running up and down the bed and around the room for a good twenty minutes before they eventually lay down beside him. 

When he woke the next morning to still no Roxanne, he thought that maybe she had just passed out on the couch when she came in but after seeing no signs of her or her belongings in either the living room or the bathroom, yeah, he started to worry. 

He left the flat a lot earlier than he normally would, he had to make a quick stop at Brian and Roger's to see if she was there and if not, he'd go over to Freddie's - just in case. 

Arriving at the flat, he presses the buzzer a few times until a very grumpy drummer answers. 

"What?"

"It's me," John answers, "Can I come up?" 

His answer is the sound of the door clunking open and he quickly slips inside and heads up to the flat. 

The door is wide open and as he closes it behind him, Roger groans from where he's on the couch, a pair of sunglasses covering perched on his nose, "Not so loud, mate." 

"Sorry." 

"And what are you doing here so early?" he continues to gripe. 

"Is Roxanne here? She didn't come home last night." 

Roger sits up, "She's probably at Becca's." 

"Can you find out?" John asks impatiently, "I want to know that she's alright before I go into work." 

"Fine," the blonde grumbled, lighting a cigarette before reaching over the back of the couch for the phone, "Want one?" 

"It's eight in the morning. No thanks." John snarks as he sits down, tapping his foot as Roger dials Rebecca's number. 

His worry escalates when Roger glances at him, putting the phone down when there's clearly no answer. 

"They'll be fine, Deaky," he says, blowing some smoke into the air, "They'll be sleeping it off." 

"What if they're not? Wha-"

"Rog, who are you talking to?" Brian steps out of the bathroom, stopping in his tracks when he sees that John is sat on their couch, "Oh, morning John." 

"Brian," he greets. 

"I take it you're here for Roxy?" 

He looks over his shoulder at the guitarist, "She's here?" 

"Yeah," he nods, "They all are."

"All are?" Roger repeats.

"Yeah, the three of them turned up here last night, when you were still out," Brian explains, "Roxy did say she was going to phone though I suppose she wasn't really fit for that. They were all pretty drunk." 

"Who's the three of them?" Roger asks again as Brian heads for his bedroom. 

"They must have met up with Kayla at some point." 

"And you put them in my room?" the blonde raises an eyebrow. 

"Sorry about the bed, mate." 

"What does that mean?" both he and John get up and make their way over to his bedroom door, peering inside, "Jesus Christ."