John: He Gets Too Competitive While Playing A Game

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Water splashes, blurring your vision as you jump into the pool chasing after your boyfriend, John Deacon. It was your turn to be "it" in the categories game you, John, Fred, and Roger had been playing while Brian prepared a small picnic-style lunch for the lot of you.

Swimming as fast as your body could take you, you just barely caught John's foot before he made it to the opposite end of the pool, tagging him so he would have to be "it" in the following round. He surfaced and promptly splashed you in the face before climbing out of the pool, arms crossed. You rolled your eyes and swam to the edge to see what was going on with your boyfriend, but as you were halfway out of the water he pushed you back in. You fell under, sputtering as you surfaced seeing as your mouth had been wide open from shock. You rubbed the chlorine from your eyes, stunned. You could feel the concerned gazes of Freddie and Roger on you as Roger climbed from the pool to grab a towel. John's gaze, which had moments before been one of competitive anger, had morphed into one of immense remorse.

Feeling that his remorse has come too late, you sulk over to Roger who wraps you in the towel and ushers you in the house. He rubs your back gently, "can I get you something to drink? Have you caught your breath." You shake your head no at the first question and nod your head at the second before placing your head in your hands, tears brimming in your eyes as Freddie enters the room.

"Oh darling, don't cry. Please don't cry. John is being quite the tart, but it's only because he never can seem to win at this game. He is out there by the pool going simply mad at his behavior, he loves you more than he can express, you know" Freddie cooed tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You took a deep breath in appreciating your sympathy, but truly needing this very reassurance from your own boyfriend.

Not a minute later John entered into the house, eyes downcast as he asked the boys to give you both a few moments alone.

"(y/n...)," he starts, while looking into your tear filled eyes. "God, love, I am so embarrassed. I don't even know what came over me. I have a tendency to...erm...not take that well to losing. And before I met you, that's how I would sort it out with the guys. You know, love, with some rough housing or smart remarks. And erm, I just...I hate feeling like a loser in front of you, but I am so mortified that I put a hand on you...sorry doesn't even begin--" you cut him off by placing your lips on his. You and John didn't have many scuffles such as this one, but you had argued before and due to this you could tell when he was remorseful. A man of few words, John had an ability to pack his apologies with emotional meaning that could be read through his eyes, which at this moment screamed "please forgive me."

And so you did forgive him. Pulling him into a tight embrace you leaned back to pinch his nose. "Now, John. Do you sincerely think I care one way or another about who wins a game of categories? Don't be so silly. I enjoy my time with you; there's no need to try and impress me, which you do impress me every day so you know." He grinned gently, eyes squinting at the sides, before leaning back into the hug.

He grabbed the back of your head, gently tangling his fingers in your hair before gently pulling you back to meet his eyes. "Thank you, love. I mean that."

You blushed and looked down, smiling as Brian announced that lunch was ready out back. Hand in hand you and John made your way outside. 

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