Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Are you two out of your minds?” Brian screeched, hands flying to hold the push handles of John’s chair.

In the chair sat a pouting John and a complaining Roger who sat on John’s lap.

“We were just gonna roll down the hill,” Roger whined childishly, rocking his body hoping to get the chair out of Brian’s iron grip. It failed.

John joined in on grumbling and rocking but Brian didn’t falter, the adrenaline pumping through him enough to fight gravity and maybe a bear.

“That’s exactly what you two shouldn’t be doing. You’ll kill yourselves!” he said, tapping into Freddie’s Mother Hen energy. “Or more importantly, kill John!” he added.

Roger deadpanned.

♚

“You have to be shitting me,” Brian whispered to himself, watching John giggling in delight as Roger pushed him across the stage with a running start.

And then let go.

Careening through the stage, John just squealed and laughed, hands up in the air as if it were a roller coaster ride. Roger was no better, face red from how hard he was laughing himself.

Brian wasn’t surprised when John couldn’t stop in time and crashed into some boxes off the side of the stage.

“We’re trying to do a soundcheck, you idiots!” he hissed. Roger and John were too busy pissing themselves laughing to hear him.

♚

Brian couldn’t facepalm fast enough. He also couldn’t rush over to the designated fools of Queen fast enough.

“What in heavens earth do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, pulling Roger away from the wheel of John’s chair.

“Well, the idea is if we put pegs on the wheels, I can ride on it like you would a bike while John steers…obviously,” Roger said with the roll of his eyes, like it actually was so obvious.

Brian grew quiet, but only for a moment, before blowing up. Where was Freddie to witness all of this when he needed him?

“That’s such a stupid idea, Roger! You know how expensive wheelchairs are? Are you hellbent on killing John?” he shrieked, gesticulating at John’s chair.

Roger opened his mouth to say something, but it was John who replied.

“Brian. We’re boys for christ’s sake. We’re going to do stupid things,” John said, more than a little annoyed at Brian’s flailing.

“That’s not a good excuse. You could get hurt John! You’r-” Brian was interrupted.

“What? Crippled? Made of glass just ‘cuz I had polio as a kid?” John had never been so snarky or short before but he had enough. If John had use of his legs, Roger and him could launch themselves to the moon on fireworks and Brian wouldn’t care.

He was disabled. He had no use of his legs. But he wasn’t a child. He was allowed to have fun. If abled adults can wreck their cars and joke about it at the pub, he damn well could destroy his chair doing things he found fun.

Brian shrunk back, eyes growing wide. Stammering, he whispered, “I hadn’t thought of it like that…”

John shook his head, lip curling. “No one ever does. They see the legs and think I haven’t got use of my brain either,” John said with a little more venom than he anticipated.

Roger gave Brian a ‘You fucked up’ look before he stood up and whispered something to the youngest. With a nod, he pushed John out of the room, whose face was pale and hands red from making fists with them.

Brian was left alone in the room with plenty of time to think about how he viewed and treated John differently. He had a lot of time to confront his ableism.

♚

“DEACY, WE’RE GOING TO CRASSSHHHHHH,” were the last things heard before John and Roger collided with a massive pile of leaves they had raked earlier from Roger’s garden.

And explosion of red, yellow and brown burst, revealing the two men strewn about the dried grass, wheelchair resting dangerously on it’s side.

John was laughing so hard his eyes couldn’t stop crying, eye crinkles at attention. Roger was making that weird seal noise one makes when they’ve laughed all the air out of their lungs, stray leaves sticking up from his hair.

“Ten out of ten, boys!” Freddie said, gloved hands clapping at the disaster before him.

Besides him, Brian shook his head, face critical of what had just happened.

“No, no. It’s clearly at eight at best. The dismount was sloppy. Not to mention Roger abandoned ship before they even got to the pile,” he said as if he were critiquing a sport.

“Oh hush up, you! Why don’t you have a go then, mister know it all!” John yelled out, sitting himself up and adjusting his legs so they weren’t all tangled.

Brian’s eyebrows furrowed, a determined look shining on his face.

“You’re on, John!”