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from-the-clouds · 2 years

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iii

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chapter summary: Somehow, you realize you've accidentally ended up spending almost every weekend for the last month and a half with either one, or all of the Millers. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.7k chapter warnings: some angst, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts (but no smut), referenced parental neglect, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues (shocker!) & a fear of intimacy. a/n: this chapter is so disgustingly sweet it might give you a cavity. truly. but its also a little self-indulgent because joel is in my dream blunt rotation :/ please be patient with updates because i have a career/social life/apartment, and am a perfectionist! i promise i will always (try) to make the wait worth your while. Also, here's a link to the song Joel plays on guitar, since it's not on Spotify so I couldn't add it to the playlist.

-April 19, 2003-

“Well, that was awkward.”

Obviously, Joel thinks to himself as Sarah turns to watch the retreating form of her teacher, while Joel stares straight ahead at the crowd in front of him. At first, he had thought she was just being polite. It was the right thing to do, to say hello to a parent and a student if you see them outside of class. But…they were seeing each other at a bar. And she’d asked him to dance.

We just got here, maybe later? Joel can’t even remember what he had said, something along those lines. It wasn’t a flat-out refusal, but he had been acutely aware of Sarah’s eyes boring into the back of his head from where she sat beside him, and he sort of blacked out, couldn’t recall what had caused her to get the hint, to walk away.

Joel grunts an affirmation to Sarah, and drums his fingers against the tabletop. There’s a dance floor full of people in front of him, all under various levels of intoxication, all of them dancing.

“Do you believe me now?” Sarah asks.

“I never said I didn’t believe you.”

How he had allowed Tommy and Sarah to talk him into coming here tonight, he’s not sure. Probably, it had something to do with how much he loved them both. How he would, ultimately, do whatever they asked if he knew it’d make that happy. But still, honky-tonking is the last thing he wants to be doing at the end of a long week.

There was pretty much only one decent bar in town, so he wasn’t exactly shocked he had run into someone he knew. Everyone came here – to dance, to drink, to eat, or to drown their sorrows. To see their friends, or even to find someone to take home for the night. And over the years, as a frequent customer, Joel had used this place to do all those things.

Tonight was special though, a little more family friendly. It was swing night. It happened once a month, and Joel had always made a point to take Sarah a couple times a year. When he was young, his mother had taught him and Tommy to dance, and he felt it was only appropriate to pass the skill along, even if it was almost obsolete. He hoped Sarah would be able to do the same someday, if she ever had children of her own.

“Will you dance with me, at least?” Sarah asks.

“Of course I will,” Joel answers.. “But let’s wait for Tommy, he’s ordering our drinks.”

“You mean your drinks.”

“No, you got a Shirley Temple.”

Sarah narrows her eyes. It’s the same expression that Joel has only seen her use recently, and he actually prefers it less to the eye roll. This time, he’s glad it hasn’t come with a question from her, because when it does, it’s always a little more frightening. “Come on, you know that’s not the same.”

Before Joel can respond, he’s cut off by Tommy’s voice.

“Look who I found.”

This is what he and Sarah have been waiting on, and Joel turns to sees Tommy with all three of their drinks in hand. Over his shoulder, there’s a woman who looks vaguely familiar, wearing daisy dukes and a plaid shirt. After a second, he realizes it’s you.

Most of the time when Joel sees you – from across the street, of course – you’re in a power suit, a pencil skirt. Sometimes, it’s more casual – athletic clothes. There was also that black silk robe he can’t seem to shake from his memory. But this is so…different. It’s clear you’re trying to blend in with the crowd, but you don’t. Not because you’re not pulling it off – you definitely are, effortlessly – he’s just pretty sure if he walks into any room you’re in, his eyes will always be drawn in your direction.

Joel doesn’t see, but rather feels – Sarah recognize that you’re in front of her, because when she does, she’s tapping him on the arm before he can utter a greeting. “Dad, can I get out and say hi?”

He’s standing to let her out just as you step closer to the table, and you come chest to chest. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your eyes remain locked on his just a moment too long, before Sarah is wrapping you up in a hug, and you’re focused on her when she draws back. “How are you?” you ask.

Joel doesn’t hear Sarah’s response, because his brother is pressing a drink into his hand - a Jack and Coke, same as what you and Tommy are drinking.

“Sit down, please!” Tommy encourages.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “This looks like a family thing, I don’t want to-”

“Please!” Sarah exclaims.

“What she said,” Tommy seconds Sarah’s sentiments.

For a second, you seem to contemplate the offer, and then you accept the invitation, sliding into the booth across from where Sarah has settled back next to her father. Joel makes eye contact with his brother, sitting next to you. Tommy’s eyebrows are raised suggestively, and there’s a playful smirk on his face when he tilts his head in your direction. Joel gives him nothing, already irritated by his brother’s goading.

“Is that a Shirley Temple?” you point to Sarah’s drink. When she nods, you continue. “I haven’t had one of those in forever,” you say.

“Want a sip?”

“Sure,” Sarah slides the glass across to you, and you sip from the straw, pondering. “I should’ve gotten one of those instead. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Can I have a sip of yours?”

“No,” you and Joel say at the same time.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he adds.

“You always say that, but how can you know?”

Joel sighs. “Okay, fine. Try mine.”

Sarah seems pleased to get what she wants. When the bitterness of the whiskey registers, the triumphant expression leaves her face completely.

“Told you,” he says. Sarah grimaces, accepting defeat, and returns to her beverage.

Tommy leans forward, urging Joel to start making conversation as if this is a date and it’s his responsibility. But before he can think of anything, Sarah pipes up.

“Guess what?” she asks you.

“What?”

“My teacher’s here.”

“Yeah?” you ask. Joel takes a long pull off his drink, hoping it’ll loosen him up a little.

“Yeah, she tried to hit on my dad.”

Joel feels the cocktail of whiskey and soda get caught in his throat.

“Oh….” you sound intrigued, and you lean forward. He wonders if this is the dynamic between you and Sarah when he’s not around. Like you’re two friends, engaging in some harmless gossip. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between him and Sarah.

Sarah bobs her head once. “She has a thing for him. I can tell.”

“What makes you think that?” his brother joins in, moving closer to Sarah, crowding you between himself and the wall and putting his elbows on the table. Joel feels a flash of envy when you shift your attention towards Tommy.

“She just asked him to dance.” Sarah looks over her shoulder, nods her head towards the woman in the corner of the bar who’s probably already focused on his table anyways. Joel already knows what you’re seeing. Miss Davis is pretty, bubbly, outgoing. Probably about your age, if he had to guess, though it’s hard to say how old you are. He imagines he has ten years on you, give or take a few. And for all intents and purposes, Sarah’s teacher is the type of woman he should be interested in.

“She’s pretty,” you say it like you’re appeasing Sarah, but you’re looking directly at Joel. He’s not sure why you kind of frighten him a little. You’re sweet, he knows, even if you’ve tried to tell him otherwise. But there’s something else there, enigmatic and alluring, that continues to draw him in.

Tommy chimes in. “So are you gonna dance with her, Joel?”

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah says dramatically. Her face drops for a second, though, her shoulders slumping as she angles herself towards him, lowers her voice. “I mean, if you want to, that’s fine, I guess. But I….I don’t know.”

Joel is taken aback by how long this conversation has gone on with absolutely no input from himself. Not to mention how honest Sarah is being. She doesn’t usually have much to say about his choice in women – he can usually just tell what she thinks. For her to express something so directly makes him realize how serious she is. But at the moment, he can’t find words to assure her everything will be fine.

It must be his lack of response that causes you to lean across the table and speak to Sarah. “You know, that’s valid,” there’s a tenderness to your tone. It dawns on him that you’re trying to comfort her. “It is kind of a conflict of interest.”

“Right?” Sarah perks up, just slightly, you’ve given her some support. “It’s one of those things you said you had going on at work the other day an….an ethical…”

“An ethical dilemma?” you finish her thought.

“Ethical dilemma! That’s it.” Sarah turns back towards Joel. “I think it's an ethical dilemma.”

For just a split second, he wonders why he’s been letting his already-precocious child hang out regularly with a lawyer. He’s accidentally creating a monster. But thankfully, Joel is finally able to find his voice. “There is no ethical dilemma, because I wouldn’t ever consider it.”

That seems to placate Sarah, and hopefully everyone will decide to drop it. Joel catches your eyes, and there’s something akin to wistfulness there, chin propped on your hand, before you blink once and focus back on Tommy, who's asking you a question. “So, are you here alone?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not at all,” Tommy smirks, not dropping his eye contact with you. “...It’s just surprising, is all.”

Joel stiffens.

“Oh, well…” you smile a little. “I’m just trying to get to know the town a little better. Trying to engage in the community, I guess. But…I’m not sure if I am doing that great of a job fitting in.”

“You are,” Joel interjects, and maybe it’s a little forward, but he’d rather say it before Tommy does. “That’s a nice flannel.”

“Thanks,” You look down at your oversized plaid shirt – the sleeves rolled up to the elbows – that hangs open over a tight white tank top. Joel can see a sliver of the black lace bra you’re wearing that pokes out above the low neckline. He wonders what it might feel like to press his face there, to feel your fingers carding through his hair, but does not allow himself to entertain the idea for very long. Not the time. “I actually had to go and buy it because I didn’t own any plaid. And by the looks of it,” You gesture towards the dance floor. “I need to invest in some cowboy boots, too.”

“One thing at a time, right?” he asks, and you agree.

“So what are you all doing here? Family outing?”

“We actually had to drag this one kicking and screaming out the door,” Tommy points to Joel.

“You did not,” Joel defends himself.

‘We kinda did,” Sarah says. “Do you know how to dance?”

You shake your head no, look at the people twirling and dipping and dancing in pairs. “Not like that.”

“It’s really easy! I can teach you. My dad taught me.”

“Cute.” Joel looks towards Sarah, and catches you staring instead. Your eyes flit back immediately to his daughters. “But I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah says like it’s already settled. Joel knows he’s spoiled her, that she ultimately gets what she wants. He worries sometimes that others won’t find her quite as endearing.

“Sarah,” he warns. “You’re making it sound like she doesn’t have a choice.”

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass. “It’s okay. You can teach me. Might as well learn, if I’m trying to fit in.”

Sarah seems satisfied.

“Joel tells me you grew up in New York City.” Tommy says it, and Joel notices you raise your eyebrows at the implication. He’s talked to Tommy about you. And now you know. He’s pissed at himself for doing it, but at the time he’d been drunk, a little more chatty and vulnerable than usual, and had mentioned you more than once. Too much to be a coincidence. The issue was, Joel had never expected you would talk to Tommy again. If he’d known you would, he wouldn’t have said anything. He doesn’t want to imagine the damage he had done when it was just the two of you, alone at the bar. But even now, he’s completely at his brother’s mercy.

“Yep,” you nod.

“You don’t have much of an accent,” Tommy remarks.

“Not everyone has them.”

“That’s fair.”

“I did, uh, go to a boarding school in a different state, though, so I wasn’t around it too much.”

“Boarding school?” Sarah turns to Joel.

“Basically you live at school,” you answer her question. ”Kind of like college, but earlier. I started going when I was nine.”

Sarah frowns. “Wouldn’t you miss your family?”

“Yes, and I did.”

“So why would you go?”

“Well…” you trail off, shift your weight. “It wasn’t up to me. My dad worked a lot, so it made sense.”

“What’d he do for a living?” Asks Tommy.

“He’s a criminal defense attorney....owns his own firm and it does pretty well, so…” you shrug. “He was very busy.”

“And that’s why you’re a lawyer? To work for your dad?”

“At one point, that was the plan, yes."

“What happened?”

The question appears to make you uncomfortable, you cross your legs and glance down at the table. “Uhm….pass.” Joel sees your face go blank for a split second before you look up with an easy smile. It’s like the desolate look you’d been wearing was never there, and you point to your drink. “I’ll need a few more of these if you want that story.”

“Might as well order another round,” Tommy flags down a waitress.

You have one more drink, but you don’t really touch it as the four of you continue to talk. Joel has two more, and Tommy has three, because he’s Tommy, and also not driving. Both you and Joel also have to vehemently refuse his request to do a round of tequila shots.

After a while, Sarah gets bored, then insists on teaching you to dance. You agree, but seem awfully reluctant. Joel wants to pull you aside and let you know that you don’t have to entertain everything Sarah offers, but once you’ve stood up, and he watches her arm link through yours as you both walk to the dance floor, he can’t bring himself to intervene.

He’s never seen Sarah be so taken with someone before, and he’s filled with a vague sense of regret. He always thought that she was content with just him and Tommy. Maybe she has always needed more. It’s partially his responsibility, Joel thinks – what could he have done to stop her mother from leaving? Even if he could’ve stopped it, they would’ve been a miserable couple…which might have been more damaging to Sarah than her mother not being around at all.

Once you’re long gone, Joel can sense what Tommy is thinking before he even opens his mouth.

“Shut it,” Joel says before he can even hear his brother's ribbing.

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything about that!” Tommy raises his hands, but Joel knows he’s lying.

“We should go over there,” Joel says. He trusts you, but in a bar full of drunk people isn’t interested in being far away from Sarah for too long. Both he and Tommy abandon their booth to mosey their way towards the dance floor.

Sarah has taken you into a back corner, far away from the band playing, where the crowd has thinned a little. There’s room for him and Tommy to lean up against the wall and watch you both.

Both your hands are clasped with Sarah’s, and she’s teaching you the counts, the steps, while you study the way that your feet move.

Joel has a feeling that if it weren’t for his daughter, you wouldn’t have hung out with his family for so long. It’s just like the hike, and as usual, he feels more like a third wheel than anything else. You’re right that you do look a little out of place here. Maybe you don’t belong, but he likes it. You’re wearing a pair of beat up hi-tops, which are a sharp contrast to Sarah’s baby blue cowboy boots that are covered in rhinestone butterflies. He’d gotten them for her for Christmas that past year, and she only wore them during special occasions like this.

Joel is doing the best he can not to think about the way your legs look in those fucking daisy dukes. All on display, and he wonders what it might feel like to drag his tongue up the soft skin of your inner thigh, feel you quiver and whimper as he works his mouth closer to– Enough. He’s disgusted with himself for thinking about you like that right now.

“Dad, look!” Sarah says, and it seems you’re catching on all right, but none of it looks graceful. Sarah’s trying to lead – which she has never done – so she falters often, and also can’t quite reach all the way above your head when she tries to spin you around. “Oh no, look at his face!” Sarah points. You turn his direction, and Joel realizes he has to neutralize the grimace that has crept onto his visage. “We definitely aren’t doing good.”

“I’ll get the hang of it,” you turn back to Sarah, assure her. “You’re a good teacher.” You’re being nice. Too nice, humoring her and laughing it off, even if she’s making a fool of you both. But you don’t seem to mind, because it’s making her happy.

All of the sudden, the toe of Sarah’s boot catches on the scuffed wood floor and she lurches forward. Joel immediately pushes himself off the wall as though he could close the space and catch her before she faceplants, but he can’t, and he can already see a vision of himself sitting in the emergency room at 2 a.m waiting, while Sarah holds an ice pack on her nose. But you reach out before the image is fully realized, arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Careful!” You warn. And even though you shuffle forward with the weight of her, you keep her from falling. Once she realizes she’s safe, Sarah giggles and throws her head back, her eyes catching your own.

He’s not sure what makes him do it. It could be the liquor, the way you look, the unspoken pressure from Tommy. Or maybe he’s just been wanting an excuse to be closer to you. Most importantly, at this rate, he feels like Sarah is going to hurt herself and also you in the process. Regardless of what the reason is, Joel decides to step in. He walks onto the dance floor.

“Alright,” Joel says once he’s gotten closer, looking at Sarah. “I can’t watch this anymore.”

“What?”

He halts in front of his daughter, jerks his hand. “Move. I’m takin’ over.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, but smiles a little, and drops her hands from your shoulders. Joel offers you his hand. “You mind?”

You look between Joel and Sarah, and she gives you an encouraging nod. “He taught me, he does know what he’s doing.”

“Well okay,” you take Joel’s hand. “You better not embarrass me,” and then you actually fucking wink at him. Already overwhelmed by the delicate weight of your hand in his palm, it almost sends him over the edge. He’s lucky he’s in public, with his family, because he doesn’t think he’d behave himself otherwise.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Joel answers. “Besides, I don’t think anything could be worse than what I was just watching.”

You giggle, and step forward when he tugs you just closer to dance, taking you fully in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sarah dragging Tommy onto the dance floor. Everyone is taken care of.

You’re smart. And because of it, you’re a fast learner. Even people who can’t really dance can usually figure this out, himself included. But in Joel’s opinion, it’s always been less about getting the steps right, and more about who’s keeping him company.

And you’re great company.

Eager, willing, gentle…soft. He’s embarrassed at how long it’s been since he’s been this close to an adult woman, and normally he might be a little nervous, but instead, he just feels…comfortable.

But Joel is a selfish man. He always wants more. Wants the band to play a slower song, so then he’d have an excuse to pull you closer. Wind an arm around your waist, whisper things in your ear that no one else could hear, and feel your breath hitch when they register. But this isn’t really the dance for that, and the rest of his family is just steps away. He’ll have to compromise – which he doesn’t like.

“I’m going to dip you,” Joel says, matter-of-factly.

“No you’re not.”

“I am,” he insists. “It’s essential.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Look,” he tilts his head to Tommy and Sarah, and the latter is laughing as she pitches all her weight backwards into his arms. He nearly drops to one knee to catch her, she’s still so petit, but their form is actually pretty good. And they aren’t the only people in the room doing it.

“Okay,” you say, and give him a warm smile for a split second before becoming stone-faced. “But if you drop me-”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Joel drawls.

He puts his arms around your waist, one of them catching the middle of your back, the other on a patch of exposed skin on your hip – your tank top has ridden up slightly with all the movement. You dig your fingers into his biceps, cling to him like he had hoped you would.

And even when he draws you back up, eyes locked with your own, your grip remains the same. You stay close.

“My turn,” Tommy interjects, and Joel can’t help the dirty look he gives him over your shoulder. He’s playing the annoying little brother, doing everything he can to piss him off. His brother wants to see Joel break, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction.

Plus, Joel is happy to dance with Sarah, which is the whole reason they came here in the first place. She’s so excited to be there, and he wonders if there will ever be a time when she’s too grown up for things like this. He hopes not.

He ignores the sound of Tommy’s laugh mingled with your own. You were not laughing that much with him, and that causes a pang of jealousy. Joel doesn’t like acknowledging it, but he’s always resented Tommy for his ability to be the charismatic one, the charming one, the happy-go-lucky one. Even when they were kids. That’s what it’s like to be the oldest sibling. Never as fun, always more practical, more serious, the voice of reason. Always in service to their siblings, all in the name of love.

Eventually, you and Sarah are back dancing together, and since you’ve had some practice separately, it’s not as sloppy as before. It allows Joel and Tommy to return to their post against the wall, just out of earshot.

Joel feels his brother’s eyes on him as he watches you and Sarah. “Dude,” he finally gives in, looks over at Tommy. “Just ask her out already.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Tommy-”

“You’re into her.”

“Maybe,” Joel says, because he knows it’s pointless to lie. “But she’s got a boyfriend.”

Tommy elbows him. “So what?”

“I know you’re alright bein’ a homewrecker but I-”

“It makes sense Joel. She’s fuckin’ smart, and funny, and pretty. And Sarah fucking loves her-”

In any other situation, he would’ve acted weeks ago. But he’s starting to understand why he’s dragging his feet. Tommy’s right. Sarah adores you. Joel will fuck something up, it’s inevitable. And when you decide you never want to speak to him again, Sarah will lose you too. He’s already let her down enough.

“I should’ve never fuckin’ told you–”

“Take her to drinks, to the movies, dinner, show up at her house with a bottle of wine, hell, something. If you don’t ask her out already, then I will.”

Joel punches his brother on the shoulder. It’s not enough to incite an actual fight, but it’s definitely not playful. “Ow!” Tommy grips at his arm. “What?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, he rolls his eyes.

“Speaking from experience, I’m surprised you haven’t already,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Once, Joel. That was one time. Will I never hear the end of it?”

“No,” Joel says. “And I see what you were doing tonight, too. Don’t think you’re slick.” he hopes to change the subject, and it seems to be working.

Tommy sets them back on track. “Well, I was just trying to get you to wake the fuck up and see what’s in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens when Sarah grows up? Goes to school, leaves the house? Then, what are you gonna do? You’re just gonna be alone?”

“You are treadin’ on some mighty thin ice, Tommy,'' Joel hisses. ““You barely know this woman-”

“I’d like a family, too, Joel. When that happens I won’t be able to keep you company anymore. You might want someone else. And maybe it’s not her, fine. But there should be someone.”

For as much as he hates to admit it, Joel knows Tommy is right.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 25, 2003-

It’s six at night. and you’re already in your pajamas.

A couple years ago, you would’ve thought that was pretty sad. These days, it’s only a little sad. You prefer things this way. That’s the perk of being an adult living alone. If you want to put on pajamas before the sun sets on a Friday night, you can. If you want to get stoned on the back porch of the house you bought yourself, you can. If you want all those things to happen while you watch the sunset and listen to yacht rock, you can. And you’re going to.

You’re toying with the new digital camera your brother bought for you. Vincent likes to argue with you, but he always feels guilty after a conversation gone wrong. Rather than use his words, however, he just buys you gifts. You had apologized over the phone a few days ago…this was his way of doing the same. The shutter clicks as you snap a photo of your backyard, and you look at it in the viewfinder before discarding the camera on your coffee table.

Martini is on the porch with you, doing that thing where he stands just out of reach but chirps at you until you pet him. When you reach out, he moves away. He’s not great at accepting what he wants. Maybe it’s why he’s sort of the perfect cat for you – you’re the same.

You light your bowl, and you’re mid-inhale when you hear someone call your name.

“Hey!”

At this point, you’d recognize Joel Miller’s voice anywhere. You don’t want to admit it’s because you’ve tried to commit it to memory, daydreamed about how it might sound for his smooth lilt to read you a book until you fall asleep, or listen to him take a phone call in the other room.

Realizing it’s him, you inhale sharply, forgetting what you’re in the middle of and taking a much bigger hit than you had intended. You begin choking violently on the smoke while simultaneously scrambling to hide your piece and the related paraphernalia sitting out, and manage to do so just in time for him to round the corner.

You scramble to hide your bowl under the pillow of the outdoor couch you sit on, just in time for Joel to appear at the screen door.

“Hey,” you say, covering your mouth. Your throat burns, and you cough again. Stay cool, stay calm. Everything is good. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I tried your front door and you weren’t answering, so I thought I’d see if you were back here.” It’s hard to see him from here, through the door, and he’s backlit by the sun that’s shimmering behind his dark hair, catching it in a golden halo.

You rise to open the door, and when you do, he continues. “I’m here to pick up Sarah’s soccer jersey.”

Right. Of course he was. She had left it a few days before, and you had assumed she’d come get it before her game on Saturday but it didn’t dawn on you until now that she ever had.

“I would’ve sent her, but she’s at a sleepover tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, standing in place. You’re trying so desperately to act normal, words evade you.

Joel squints at you, a slight smirk on his face. “I didn’t catch you off guard or anything, did I?’

“No, no, not at all,” you lie. “Come on in.”

Joel steps over the tiny dish of cat food you’ve left on your back step for the stray you feed, and into the screened-in porch. Now that he’s under the dim light, you get a better look at him. A loose-fitting flannel hangs open over a worn green t-shirt that barely meets the top of his jeans. His hair is damp, like he’s just showered, and he smells clean. In any other situation, you’d want to climb him like a tree, and he’s not even trying. But right now, you’re just doing your best impression of a sober human that is definitely not doing anything illegal. The truth is, you should’ve made him wait outside.

“This is nice,” Joel says, looking around. And you really wish he wasn’t because you notice that you left the clear plastic baggie containing your weed out on the couch. It sort of blends in with the green floral pattern, so you hope for the best, because there’s no way for you to sneakily grab it without drawing his attention. “I didn't know this was back here.”

“The last owners added it on,” you say, because that was the type of thing the realtor had said to you about the features of this house. And you supposed a carpenter or contractor would probably be interested in it. It was a good distraction.

“I can tell. Looks new,” he looks up towards the wooden beams that span the ceiling. The top of the porch is still covered, so during the few times it’s rained, you always sit outside to listen.

“I’ve got her jersey in the kitchen,” you tell him. “Wait here.”

It doesn’t take long for you to pick out the bright blue athletic gear from your pile of dry cleaning. It stands out against all your neutral-colored pantsuits. Joel has his back to you when you return, one of his hands clenched into a fist.

“Here,” you say, and he turns.

“You had it dry cleaned? You didn’t have to do that.”

“I kind of wasn’t sure if it was safe to run through the machine,” you explain. “But now that I’m thinking about it….it wouldn’t make sense to give a bunch of 11-year-olds dry clean only jerseys.”

“It wouldn’t. But it’s probably more convenient than scrubbing the grass stains out yourself.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately. But again…thank you.”

“Of course.”

This is where Joel should leave, walk across the street, and go home. And he does, well, at least, he starts to. He steps away, reaches for the handle to your back door, and then pauses. “You know,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “The Watsons were tellin’ me the other day you’ve been complaining about a family of skunks living under your house?”

You freeze, recalling the lie you’d come up with on a whim when your sixty-year-old neighbors had started asking too many questions.

“Well, it does smell a little over here.”

“Uh-huh,” you give him nothing.

“Something like that….you should really call animal control. Get rid of the problem,” Joel’s facing you now, eyebrow raised.

“If I call animal control…they’ll just kill them,” you answer. “And I don’t want that. So…I think I’ll just have to live with it.”

“That’s fair,” Joel says. “But you know, Sarah’s over here all the time, and I’ve never heard her mention it.”

At this point you know he’s just fucking with you. But years of remaining stone-faced through business negotiations and family dinners has prepared you for this, so even if you’re a little stoned, you’re not going to let him win.

“Yeah, it sounds like a coincidence. But they’re never around when she’s here,” you say, in your own defense. “Ever,” you add for emphasis.

“I guess that’s good.”

You both stare at each other for a second, and your blood buzzes slightly because even though this is just a playful standoff, you’ve never made such intense eye contact with him. It feels electric. After what feels like an eternity, Joel lifts his hand from his hip, and you see what he’d been holding in his fist, now pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He raises an eyebrow.

When you see the plastic baggie dangling in front of your face, you purse your lips. “Alright, you got me,” you lift up your hands, but snatch the bag from him.

“And here I thought you were such a good girl.”

You don’t even want to acknowledge the full body chill that runs down your spine at the sound of those two words, coming from him. Snatching the bag back from him, he gives you a cheeky smile. “If you give me a hit, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your jaw drops, and you look up at him. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

“I’m not the one lyin’ to my neighbors.”

��And I’m not the one snooping through my neighbors' things.”

“It was right out in the open.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered at all. But it’s Texas, so you can never be sure. “Okay, fine,” you say. “If you want….I could roll us a joint. Unless you have other plans.”

“The alternative is a house to myself for the evening and some chores, so…yeah. Whatever you’d like.”

“Great.”

Joel follows you to sit on the couch. As you settle on opposite ends, he speaks up. “So you think you could explain to me why my daughter keeps tellin’ me she wants to be a lawyer?”

You snicker. “Believe me, Joel. I’ve tried to talk her out of it already.”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. Probably a more lucrative career than what I’m doing. She’s really taken a liking to you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her warm up to anyone so quick.”

“Well, I’m the first adult she knows that’s not an authority figure.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”

“I remember being that age,” you look down at your work. “It’s nice to have someone older to relate to, who you can talk to without being afraid of getting a lecture.”

“She probably needs it,” Joel says. “She told me you talk about girl stuff. I’m not so great at that.”

“I don’t know,” Your tongue darts out to wet the edge of the paper and finish rolling the joint. You put it between your lips, and rummage through the drawer of the coffee table to find your lighter, gesture between the both of you. “This is about ninety percent of how I spent my time with my friends at her age…and so far you’re doing alright.”

“Now you’ve got me worried about what’s going on at that sleepover.”

“Okay, well, I was maybe a little older. And with her? You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you shake your head.

He rubs the back of his neck, and his eyes glow with the reflection of your lighter as it’s flicked on. “I don’t know.”

“She’s fine, Joel,” you say, bringing the lighter closer and shielding the flame from the calm breeze of the evening. “She’s great. Really.”

“She is,” he agrees. You inhale, let the smoke settle in your lungs for a moment, before exhaling. You take your time, feeling warm from the weed and the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, and he accepts the joint when you pass it over.

“I really didn’t really expect this from you,” he exhales, studying your handiwork before taking another puff. “You’re pretty buttoned up.”

“This is hardly rebellious.” Instinctually, you like the idea that he thinks you’re buttoned up. Deep down, however, you don’t actually want him to.

He looks so dreamy, the smoke curling though his eyelashes, tracing along his defined jaw, and then up, up, where it settles and shifts under the porch light, before disappearing completely.

Martini, who has been in hiding, hops up on the couch, and Joel reaches out, your cat nuzzling its face into his palm. “Didn’t know you had a cat,” he mumbles. And then, like some sort of magic, the cat plops down on Joel’s lap.

“I do…but…” you say out loud, then trail off because you’re in such shock. You glance up at Joel, who looks confused. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen him do this.”

He passes the joint back to you. “Do what?”

You take a final puff, and then put it out in an ashtray. It’s only about half smoked, but you can get into it later if either of you wants to. Plus, you’re more interested in what’s unfolding in front of you. “I kinda want a picture of this.”

“What?”

“I’ve had him for five years and he’s never sat on my lap like that,” you say, and you can’t keep the resentment from dripping into your tone. “What makes you so special? I’m a little jealous.”

“Of me? Or the cat?”

Something honey-thick drips down your spine at his words. You can’t conjure a witty response, opting instead for: “Shut up.”

You snap a couple photos while Joel’s still laughing, one hand on his chest, the other on Martini’s back, and then put the camera down, and lean against the back of the couch, curling your feet underneath you.

“You’ve got a nice view of the sunset,” Joel says softly.

There’s a distant fear you might never get to see him like this again, and you want to take him in fully before you drag your eyes to see what he’s looking at. Your backyard slopes down into a small patch of woods, the sky opening even wider to let in the aureate light.

“I know,” you agree. “It’s why I spend so much time back here.” The high continues to settle over you, strokes your shoulders, tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Surprised you like things that are so peaceful…being from the city and all…”

“The city is peaceful,” you say, thinking of the leaves swirling from the trees in the fall, and the snowflakes falling onto your family's porch in the winter, melting on the tip of your nose as you lean over the balcony to see the glittering lights below, car horns and engines and sirens piercing the darkness, white noise. “In its own way.”

“You miss it?”

“Everyday,” you say.

“What do you miss the most?”

“Uhm…probably the bagels,” you lie. Well it’s true. But it’s not what you miss the most. You think of your brother, flopping onto your bed on a Saturday night – a rare weekend when you visit home – and you’re trying to read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn for school but he’s begging to take you around the corner to get a milkshake. It’s the image of him you’ve so desperately tried to cling to and the recollections you share with him have only gotten more and more unpleasant as time goes on. “The bagels here suck.”

“Really?” Joel seems amused by that.

“And uh…I don’t know. It’s part of me. I have a lot of friends there, a lot of good memories,” you smile to yourself, lean forward towards him. “I had this apartment before I graduated, right? It had the best view of this little Italian restaurant, and I’d sit and watch people through the windows, eating and talking. I was supposed to be studying, but…it was great. I loved it.”

“What’re you doing here, then?” Joel asks, and you look back at the sunset. Here you are, waxing poetic and you’re sure he can hear it in your voice. “You runnin’ from something?” You look over to find he’s staring at you. Like he knows you aren’t being honest, and he’s asking you to stop lying.

So you do the only thing you can think of, which is to ask him a question in response. “What makes you think I am?”

Joel considers this for a moment. “I don’t know. I grew up in Austin. All my friends are here, my family. If I ever moved someplace else….it’d have to be for a good reason. And even if I did, I’d be lonely.”

You stare down at the floor. “Maybe I am.” Lonely? Or running from something? The answer is both, you know, but you’re not going to clarify. “My family. Things are pretty fucked. I thought distance would help, and it does, a little. But….that shit still follows you anyways. They’re always with you, no matter what.”

Joel nods.

“But… I have a life here. When I lived downtown, I definitely did. I don’t mind the quiet, and….I have friends.”

Joel looks at you. “You got a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Why would he think that-oh. You had tried to forget it, the morning he’d caught you still wrapped up in your robe – not the fluffy fleece one you liked the most, but the one you specifically only wore when you had guys over, cause they loved that shit.

“Oh, right,” you say. “Bradley. Yeah, uh. He’s…he’s….not my boyfriend. But…” you shake your head. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure it ain’t that hard to explain.”

“I mean…” you avoid his eyes. “He’s kind of an asshole, but we’re not really commited to each other in a meaningful way. Plus, he’s not around that much which is kind of perfect…for me.”

“Really?”

“Less to worry about,” you answer, purse your lips. “But…I don’t know. I sorta wish he got my heart rate up a little more.”

“He’s not your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” you shake your head. “I like what I like.”

Joel rasps. “I feel the same,” and he’s made sure your eyes are on him when he says it.

You swallow, nod, smooth your hair back. “Anyways. Why’re you asking me all this?”

Joel doesn’t seem to find an answer right away. You narrow your eyes at him, studying his face, looking for something that will give him away. It’s a trick you’ve learned…silence…a bit of skepticism. It makes people uncomfortable. And Joel shifts his weight, squirming beneath your gaze. Until something in his face shifts, and he smiles….just a little.

“So that’s where Sarah learned that.”

“Learned what?”

“That look you’re giving me.”

“What look?”

“Like you can see right through me.”

“Can I?” You narrow your eyes further.

“You’re tryin’ to.”

He’d done a good enough job of avoiding your question, and you’re not gonna ask him again, and instead opt for a different one. “So what about you, then?” you poke his knee with your foot.

“Oh, I’m not answerin’’ that.”

“What? I just told you, that’s not fair.”

Joel runs a hand along his jaw, ponders. “Most women don’t want to be with a man who already has a kid so…things on that front are not always easy.”

“I have a hard time believing that. I mean, don’t you have an upcoming date with Sarah’s teacher or something?” you tease.

“That’s not happening,” he assures you. “But….I work so much these days I don’t have the capacity for much. So I get what you mean, sometimes it’s easy to not get emotionally involved but…I’ve never really been great at that.”

“You’re a relationship guy?”

“I mean, Tommy has been pestering me about this lately. Says at this rate, once Sarah’s grown, I’ll end up old and alone. Annoys me to hell, but he’s right. I wouldn’t mind…some kind of companionship. Someone to tell you you’ve done alright at the end of the day.”

“You sound awfully romantic,” you at him blink slowly.

“I can be, when I want to.” Joel rolls his eyes. “But right now…I think I’m just stoned.”

That makes you giggle. So he’s just being honest. “I didn’t really see much great come from settling down when I grew up, so I’ve always been a bit of a pessimist when it comes to love. What you’re saying….it’s a nicer way to think of things.”

You rarely connected with the men you dated. You chose to date douchebags, to date cheaters. It was better that way, to know up front what you were getting yourself into. The best ones didn’t ask for much, just the odd fuck here and there for a couple months, and you’d step away when things were no longer fun, if they evewere to begin with.

Actually getting married, settling down, didn’t feel like a real possibility for you. So you’d never allowed yourself to indulge in what seemed like a fantasy. Some women aren’t meant to be a part of a family. Your father had told you once – during one of few times he’d attempted to comfort you after your mother didn’t call on your birthday – as if it excused his own neglect.

“Yeah, and it hasn’t all been bad. I mean, I’ve had a couple good girlfriends over the years. They were sweet, fun. I enjoyed the time I spent with them, they just…never made it through the real litmus test.”

“Sarah?”

He nods.

“It would be hard, I imagine. For her. Accepting someone new into her life.”

“Yeah.”

“You really care about her,” you say. “About how she feels. It’s nice.”

“I’m doin’ my best.”

The way he talks about Sarah makes you nauseated. It’s something pure, and you can’t help but feel bitterly nostalgic.

“I wish my dad would have been like you.”

It slips out, and you immediately regret it. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten stoned with someone else, and you’ve forgotten your filter. And even though you’ve already divulged more to him about you than you normally would, this feels like too much all of the sudden.

This isn’t something you can backpedal, and before you know it, Joel is leaning towards you. There’s concern written in his features, he wants to comfort, and you thank God for what happens next, or it all would’ve been too much.

His shift in weight causes Martini to jump off his lap and sprint to the door of the porch. He stares at you and then meows.

Even though Joel isn’t touching you, you have to tear yourself away from the hold he’s got you in. ““I gotta let him in, or he’ll get annoyed.”

You move to open the door, and the cat slips inside.

“Is that a guitar in there?” Joel asks, catching a sliver of the gleaming body in the dim light.

“Yeah.”

“You play?” He questions, and you come to sit back on the couch.

“Not anymore. It’s more of a decoration. How about you?”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.” Joel smiles, looks at the ground like not sure why he’s telling you this. “I actually uh, used to want to be a singer.”

“What?” you ask. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Joel shakes his head.

“Joel, what?” you put a hand on his arm and lean forward, then look at the guitar.

“Why not?”

“I was…young when I had Sarah. And I had to do something that could actually help us get by.”

“Okay well, you have to play me something, then,” you rise to step inside and retrieve it off the wall.

“No, no-”

“Come on, please?” you ask. “Don’t be a tease.”

Joel just stares as you bring the guitar out to him.

“Although this might be out of tune…” you strum once, and wince at the tinny sound it makes. “Definitely it is.”

“Here,” Joel takes it from you. “I can do it.”

It takes him a moment, but he’s plucking the strings in a way that feels so instinctual, purposeful, you can already tell he knows what he’s doing. Once he’s finished, he strums a few chords, and everything is magically in tune.

“Alright,” you prompt, when he hesitates. “What are you gonna play me?”

“You know any Neil Young?”

“Of course,” you answer.

Joel nods once, looks down at the guitar, and starts playing. You’d recognize the opening chords to anywhere, but he somehow makes them sound even moodier, and bittersweet.

Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say…

He can sing. You’re taken aback. You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s definitely better than that. Deeper, raspier, and now you have new information about him that’s going to bounce around your brain when you’re bored during meetings at work, while you’re lying in bed at night, trying to sleep.

Because I’m still in love with you, I want to see you dance again…

You shift your weight, sling your arm over the back of the couch, and rest your chin on your hand. Suddenly, you’re feeling a little tired. He’s all-but putting you to sleep and, somehow, that feels like the highest compliment you can give. It could be because you’re stoned, but you feel warm all over. You close your eyes, just listen, until he’s finished.

Even after he’s finished, you keep your eyes closed, settling. Until you feel something graze against the back of your hand. Joel’s. He’s matching your own pose, facing you, but reaching out…

“That was nice,” you say, earnestly. You’re good.”

Joel smiles bashfully, tugs your hand from beneath your chin and pinches your index finger between two of his own. Your nails are painted a glittery purple, and Joel studies them. Sarah had painted them earlier this week when she’d hung out after school, and had picked out the color.

“So are you,” he shifts closer.

He’s not quite close enough to kiss you himself. But it’s enough…he’s just giving you the chance to lean in, to close the gap. The proximity makes you dizzy, and you’re a little overwhelmed. It’s too much. It’d be too much. You can’t. You’re afraid of what he might do to you.

“We should be good, then,” Gazing at him from under your lashes, you pull back just enough. It’s not a rejection, and you can tell he doesn’t see it that way either. There’s a mutual understanding, you’re on the same page, but you aren’t quite sure what it is. The warmth of Joel’s hand leaves yours, and a part of you is filled with regret.

And then, like it never happened, the two of you spend another hour talking. He’s engaged, intuitive, thoughtful, funny. By the time he excuses himself, long after the sun has fully dipped below the horizon, you feel like he’s an old friend. An old friend you want…badly, but, you know him on a level you hadn’t before.

“Gotta be up tomorrow for a soccer game, otherwise I’d stick around,” Joel says as you’re guiding him to the front door.

“It’s alright,” you say. “You’re welcome to do this anytime.”

“You sure?” he tilts his head, leaning against the doorframe on his way out. “You might regret offerin’ that….”

“I won’t.”

part iv

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joels-golf-club · 1 year

Text

Play Along

A/n: I'm writing this at literally 2 in the morning so this could very well be trash but we shall see. Okay so I hate the way I ended this but the rest is kinda cute so I'm posting it anyway, enjoy :)

All my works are 18+ MDI

Word count: 2K

Warnings: Literally just Joel being the best gentleman, Pre-Outbreak!Joel, Lowkey cliche, no use of Y/n, drinking, One creepy guy, reader is uncomfortable, slight unwanted touching, Joel (he always needs a warning), light swearing, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything.

It was supposed to be a fun night out with your best friend that you hadn't seen in forever. The plan was to go out to a bar your friend liked, have a few drinks, and catch up on what you had missed in the time you two had been separated.

But that plan quickly went out the window. You both showed up and chatted for a while but your friend quickly found someone she deemed worthy of her time and went to the dance floor, leaving you to nurse another drink alone at the bar. That honestly wasn't bad at first. Your drink was about as good as you good get in the small honky tonk bar, the music wasn't bad, maybe a little twangy, but nothing horrible, but then he showed up.

You don't even remember his name, James? Jason? You couldn't remember but you do know that he asked you to dance, and being a few too many drinks deep you said yes. At first he kept a respectable distance between the two of you and his hands stayed high on your back and arms as you danced to the music, but after a song or two his hands began to wander and he pulled you closer. It wasn't terrible until he pulled you flush against him and ran his hot, wet mouth down your neck.

"Okay, I'm getting hot, I think I need another drink! Let go." You shouted over the music but he seemed determined to stay with you.

"It's not that hot in here, just one more song, come on! Then I can think of something else we can do." The innuendo wasn't lost on you and you quickly sobered up a bit. He made another grab for your arm but you pulled it away at the last second and searched the room for your friend with no luck. It seemed she had gone home with that guy, or at the very least disappeared somewhere with him.

"No, I'm actually here with someone so I'm just gonna go find him. This was fun though." You tried to be polite whilst your eyes bounced around the room in search for anywhere you could go, at this point you were almost completely sober and just wanted a way out of this situation.

"Bullshit! You were alone at that bar long before I got to you. Now don't be such a bitch and come over here again!" John or maybe Jackson shouted a little too near to your ear for comfort, causing you to immediately flinch away.

Then your eyes landed on him. Dark messy hair and broad shoulders in a tight green flannel connected to long legs covered in tight dirty jeans. His back was to you and you prayed he was really as alone here as he looked because you made a beeline to him while tossing a, "There's my friend!" over your shoulder. You could tell he followed after you but you just walked faster until you were right next to where the other man stood near the bar counter.

"There you are babe! I've been looking for you!" You called to him and threw your arms around his neck before whispering in his ear when he stiffened at your touch. "Please play along, this guy won't leave me alone." The man didn't answer but he relaxed and wrapped his arms around you for a few seconds before pulling back. By now, the other guy had reached the two of you and glared at the man who now had his arm over your shoulder.

"Hey darlin', been looking all over for you. Who's your friend?" He was playing along to your great relief and glared just as harshly at the unrelentless man before you.

"Oh, this is, uh, Jason-"

"John, actually, and who are you?" John, it turned out to be, cut you off and looked the other man up and down, sizing him up.

"I'm Joel, how do you know my girlfriend?" Joel, stared right back and kept his tone clipped and harsh. Joel was a little shorter, but he was broader and filled out his sleeves much more than John did, no doubt intimidating the creep.

"Girlfriend? This bitch? Yeah have fun with that..." John quickly trailed off as Joel's glare deepened and he took a threatening step forward at the harsh words. John quickly took the hint and turned around and sauntered back into the crowd with a scoff and one last glare aimed at you.

As soon as he was out of sight you slumped down into one of the two empty bar stools while Joel took the other. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry for that. He just wouldn't leave me alone and I lost my friend somewhere and she's kinda my ride but I think she left with some guy so I didn't know what to do. God, you really saved my ass, I don't know what would've happ-" Joel cut your rambling off with a short bark of laughter and shook her head. He smiled in amusement and held out his hand for you to shake.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It was my pleasure, I'm glad I could help. I'm Joel." You gave him your name and shook his hand in return.

"Thank again, can I buy you a drink for that? Like I said, you really saved my ass there." You grinned as you offered but it dropped when he flagged the bartender down and ordered you a drink instead.

"How bout I buy you one since you seemed to have a shitty night? And you said your friend left? I can give you a ride home if you'd like, darlin'." Joel offered in a deep southern twang that had you blushing, though you blamed it on the alcohol still in your system.

You shook your head a smiled. "Don't worry about it, please, I'll just get an Uber or something. I can figure it out, you've already done so much for me tonight." Truth be told, you desperately wanted him to drive you home. Joel was hot, he was also kind and a gentleman, but you didn't want to intrude on his night even more so you declined his offer.

He however seemed to have other Ideas, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You're really gonna call an Uber alone at night? For some reason that doesn't seem like the brightest idea to me."

"Oh and going home with a stranger is any better?" You shot back but Joel just grinned.

"But we aren't strangers. You know my name and I know yours, and according to people around us, we are dating. If you don't want me to take you home, I understand, but I really wouldn't mind at all, and it seems the safer option anyway." You thought over his offer and decided was he right. Calling an uber when you were tipsy, alone, and this late at night wasn't a good idea. You're other option was to somehow get your friend to give you a ride like planned, but she was nowhere to be seen in the bar and she hadn't responded to any of your texts other than one over an hour ago saying she went home with the guy she met.

"Alright, you can drive me home. But you're just dropping me off, alright." Joel nodded and raised his hands in surrender.

"You have my word, sweetheart. I will only take you home, unless you ask for anything else." He threw a cheeky wink in with the end of his sentenced, and that paired with the pet name in his drawl had you blushing from your neck to the tips of your ears. You only hoped he blamed it on the alcohol in your system and the heat of the bar, but the look in his eyes said he knew otherwise.

"Great. Um," You glanced at your phone and saw that it was way past midnight. You had been talking to Joel in between sips of your drinks for well over an hour by now. "It's getting pretty late, do you wanna head out now?"

"Sounds great, darlin'." He fished out his wallet from the back pocket of those unnecessarily tight jeans and threw a couple bills on the table. You tore your eyes away from his ass when he turned around and your blush deepened when you saw the small smirk on Joel's face, he definitely saw you staring. "Let's go then, I'm parked out front."

He led the way out the doors into the chilly night air and opened the passenger door of a shiny black pickup with a large smile across his face. You grinned and stepped up into the vehicle. "I guess chivalry really isn't dead."

Joel just chuckled and shook his head, "Just keepin' my momma proud, darlin'." He winked at you and shut your door before walking around to the driver door. You gave him your address and he turned on the radio quietly as he began to drive.

"Thank you again for everything, Joel. You don't know how much you've done for me tonight." You sheepishly stared at your hands in your lap, the buzz of your drinks wearing off and an odd sense of shame filling you.

You looked up, though, when he reached over and grabbed one of your hands in his much larger grip. His hand covered yours entirely and it was rough with callouses. You stared at the side of his face with your cheeks slightly pink when he spoke. "Darlin', you don't need to thank me. You don't ever deserve to feel unsafe anywhere and I'm extremely glad that I could help you out tonight."

Joel stopped talking then, but he still lightly held your hand in his, you could've pulled away if you wanted, but you just squeezed his hand and grinned. A slow country song came on over the radio and Joel turned up the music a few notches. Quietly he began to sing along.

His voice was deep and smooth with a little bit of a rasp. In short, it was beautiful. You stared at his mouth as it moved to form the shapes of the words. You must have looked insane staring at him like this but when he glanced over at you Joel only smiled softly and continued the song.

The song just barely ended when he pulled into your neighborhood and turned into your driveway. You frowned as the night came to a close and slowly began to unbuckle while Joel walked around the front of the car to open your door for you. "Here you are, sweetheart. It's been a great night for me, I hope it was for you too after everything."

You smiled and hopped down onto the pavement and walked with him to your front door where you tried to linger and build the confidence to ask for his number. "It was wonderful meeting and talking with you. Thank you for everything once again." Joel smiled and nodded his acknowledgment before you began to unlock the door and he turned and walked back to his truck.

You had just about closed the door when you heard your name called out. "Hey wait! you left this in my truck." Joel jogged up to your front door once again and handed you something, it looked like a napkin or a paper, but you didn't remember having it before. It must've just been in your pocket and fallen out or something, you reasoned.

"Oh thanks, I didn't even realize. Goodnight Joel." You finally forced yourself to not chicken out and stood on your tippy toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek before you turned and walked back into your house, just barely catching his own goodnight to you.

It was only after you heard his truck pull away and the sound of his engine fade that you looked down at the napkin he had handed you. Once you processed what it had written on it in a messy chicken scrawl you sat at your kitchen table and a large grin took over your face.

Here's my number so you can buy me that drink another time. - Joel.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #sarah miller #the last of us #x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedrito #joel miller x you #joel x you #joel and ellie #tlou hbo

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ourtearsofrain · 1 year

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Save a Horse (D.R.W/S.F.K)

Summary: Danny convinces Sam to go to a new line dancing bar in town. A gay bar. On a steal night. When they’re both secretly head over heels in love with each other. What could go wrong?

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, smut (minors DNI), some angst

Word Count: 11.3 k

Warnings: they’re both oblivious idiots so it takes them a fat minute to confess their feelings, major douche oc, non-consensual touching (not graphic), smut, oral sex, anal sex (fingering and penetration), Sam’s a bottom what’s new

A/N: I would like to thank @hearts-hunger for posting a random short blurb about Danny dragging Sam along to a line dancing bar, that was what first put the idea in my head that led to… all this. Thank you for reading!

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“Will you please just come with me tonight, Sam? You have nothing better to do anyways!” Danny pleads with the other man.

"For the last time, Daniel,” Sam replied, stressing his name as he closes the empty cabinet usually filled with alcohol and turns towards him, “You know me, I don’t line dance. I don’t even listen to country music.”

“It’s easy, just let me lead? Listen I really want to check this new place out, Austin told me about it last week, and I can’t go alone. He said tonight is bring your own partner night and to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed to ask anyone else.” He says quietly, looking down at the countertop as he mindlessly traces shapes onto the surface of it with his finger. “I’ve never been, but Austin promised it’s not like, too ‘hick’ of a bar.”

Sam sighs, bracing himself on the same counter with both hands as he leans towards Danny. “Fine. BUT, before you go looking too excited its only because; one, I’m out of all my good alcohol, two, you keep flashing those big doe eyes at me and you know I always give in when you look all sad like that, and three, I’m taking Austin’s word that it’s not ‘too hick’.” Danny beams at the other man, mood already lifting as Sam continues, “What’s this place called anyways? Have I ever heard of it?”

“I doubt you have, Austin told me it’s downtown and pretty underground, even for a new place.” He scratches the back of his head, focusing once again on the counter in front of him as he mumbles the rest of his answer. “He said it’s called uh… Bradley’s Honky Tonk.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, “I’m sorry you might have to speak up because, to me, it sounded like you just said this bar wasn’t ‘too hick’ and right after, told me that it was called fucking Bradley’s Honky Tonk.”

Danny briskly makes his way towards the front door as Sam trails behind him, speaking fast enough to prevent Sam from interrupting him, but not so fast he would have to stop and repeat himself. “You already agreed to go, I promise it’ll be fun, I’ll pick you up at 8, kay byeee.” He blurts out, shutting the door in Sams’ face.

“Thanks Daniel, alright see you then Daniel.” Sam grumbles out, voice laced with annoyance at his friends speedy departure. He catches his reflection in the mirror by his door, noticing his old band tee and unbrushed hair for the first time that day. “Oh god. What the fuck do I even wear?”

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Pulling into Sam’s driveway at 8:26 pm, only 26 minutes late (which Danny was considering record speed), he sat nervously in the driver’s seat waiting on his friend. He fidgets with a few strands of hair, his racing mind fueled by anxiety suddenly deciding that it must look horrible down, despite the time he spent in front of his mirror at home fixing almost every single curl until it sat just perfect. Flipping the cover up on the mirror of his sun visor he begins pulling his hair into a loose ponytail, leaving the bottom half out as he feared the old hair tie he kept in his car for emergencies wouldn’t be strong enough to hold all of it. Making eye contact with himself in the small mirror, he lets out a shaky breath. “Relax Danny, this is fine, it’s fine. Are you going line dancing with your best friend who you’ve stupidly been in love with since 8th grade? Yeah, but it’s fine. Completely platonic…right?”

He slams the visor up, groaning as his head falls back in frustration, hitting the head rest. “Yeah, I am so fucked.” he whispers before the passenger door swings open and Sam all but throws himself into the seat.

“Well, well, well,” Sam says in an exaggerated Southern accent, “Lookin’ mighty fine there Daniel.” He eyes the other man, attention going from the black crystal necklace Danny rarely took off, to his Howlin’ Wolf muscle tee, down his long legs clad in loose fit dark blue jeans, and finally catching a glimpse of his black lace-up combat boots. Sam secretly adored when Danny wore them around him, as the soles made him an inch or two taller than he already was, causing Sam to have to look up ever so slightly at Danny when in close proximity. “Surprised to see you’re not in cowboy boots. Your pair too classy for Bradley’s Honky Tonk?”

Danny rolls his eyes, putting his car into reverse and backing out of Sam’s driveway. He almost misses Sam’s sharp inhale as he places his hand on the shoulder of the passenger seat, allowing him to turn enough to look out the back window; instead he ignores it, thinking he must have imagined something out of hope.

“Shut the fuck up Sam.” Danny replies with no real malice or annoyance behind his words. “And I was thinking about wearing them but changed my mind, didn’t like how they looked with these jeans.” He glances over at Sam as he puts his car into drive, taking in the tiger’s eye pendant around his throat, his maroon button up with only the bottom two buttons done, down to his faded blue jeans and brown Chelsea boots, his eyes finally coming back up to settle on Sam’s freshly washed hair, now held back in a loose French braid. “You can’t say shit about my outfit, Sammy. Button that shirt a little more and swap those Chelsea boots for a worn pair of cowboy boots and you’ll fit right in with half the crowd.”

Sam dramatically gasps, slapping his hand over his heart and putting on his best act at being offended by the other man’s jest. “How could you say that to me Daniel? Comparing me to true Tennessee country boys; and I thought we were friends.” He gives Danny one last sad look before he drops the bit, and lets a full grin spread across his face.

Danny gives him an amused chuckle, keeping his eyes on the road as he lightheartedly grumbles, “God you’re such a drama queen.” under his breath.

“True, but that’s why you love me.”

Danny feels his face heat, sure that his cheeks are tinted pink from Sam’s passing comment. Lucky for him, Sam doesn’t notice as his attention is caught by something sitting on the back seat.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Sam says, confusing Danny momentarily before he reaches behind the driver’s seat and pulls out the worn black leather cowboy hat Danny had decided to grab at the last minute. With a shit-eating grin plastered on his face he settles the hat on his own head, causing Danny to choke on his own spit after looking over. His face turns an even fiercer shade of pink as he not only coughs for air, but also tries to keep the fluttering of his heart at bay.

“You brought a fucking cowboy hat? Yeah, ok and I’m the one that could ‘fit right in’.” Sam teases, too amused to question the state of his best friend.

After regaining the ability to fully breathe, Danny reaches over, snatching the hat off his head and tossing it behind him and out of Sam’s reach. “Hey, what the fuck-“ Sam starts.

He’s cut off by Danny, still blushing vividly and trying to keep his voice even. “Uh there’s kind of this ‘rule’ that you should know about. With cowboy hats. So you don’t accidently give someone the wrong vibe tonight.” He glances nervously over at Sam, who’s staring at him with mild confusion painted across his face. “They say, ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’. Uh, basically it means if someone puts their cowboy hat on you, or you take someone else’s hat, it means that they, and/or you, want to… fuck.”

“Oh.” Sam replies, staring out the windshield. Oh. A blush creeps across his cheeks and he clears his throat, hoping to ease the tension that had settled between them. “Well uhm, thanks for the heads up.”

“Yep, mhm, yeah uh no problem.” Danny mumbles out. Well that was fucking smooth. God you’re such an idiot, he probably knows and just never wanted to say anything. He’s pulled from his thoughts as they arrive at the bar, its name illuminated in neon rainbow lights. Struggling to find a parking spot, he drives a block down, eventually finding an empty space in the lot of a random mom and pop stop style restaurant already closed for the night. “Busier than I thought it would be.” Danny comments half to himself as the men get out of the car.

“Hey Danny boy,” Sam calls over the hood of the car, “Don’t forget that cowboy hat, partner.”

Danny rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. “Fuck off Sam.” he replies, before opening the back door of his car and grabbing the hat off the floor where it had fallen. He places the hat on his head, earning a teasing wolf whistle from Sam, before he locks his doors and makes his way towards his friend.

The pair start towards the bar, passing small groups of people and couples already leaving the bar, stepping out for a smoke break, or heading inside like Sam and Danny were. They pass a group of women all standing around in a semi-circle laughing and talking while puffing on various cigarettes and vape pens. In their platform heels, they were all taller than both boys, with flashy and over the top outfits, hair, and makeup.

A woman near the center of the group with blond hair piled impossibly tall on her head eyes Danny. Her long nails are painted blood red, the end of a cigarette between her fingers, burning dangerously close to the lacquer. She wore a cropped leather jacket in a similar shade almost fully zipped up, and tight leather shorts with fishnet stockings. Her cowgirl boots gave her maybe an inch of height, yet she still towered over Sam and Danny as they passed.

“Love the hat, sweetie.” She says in Danny’s direction, winking at the end of her sentence, surprising both boys with a voice deeper than either expected.

“Oh uhm, thank you ma’am.” Danny replies nervously, continuing along the path with Sam by his side.

Once out of the earshot of the group, Sam voices what both men were thinking. “So that was a drag queen, yeah?”

“Yeah, think they all were.” answers Danny, nerves creeping into him.

Sure, Austin was gay, but he didn’t want to assume that it was a gay bar just because he was. And he would have told Danny it was a gay bar… right? Whatever, he thought, either way it was too late to back down now.

The pair arrive at the door and, after showing one of the bouncers stationed at the entrance their ID’s, enter the building. Their senses are immediately bombarded, from the rainbow strobe lights, to the intense smell of sweat, to the blaring music. Danny manages to recognize the song, despite the cacophony of noise surrounding him.

“But I’m gonna be where the lights are shinin’ on me

Like a rhinestone cowboy

Ridin’ out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo.”

Ok, definitely more of a queer country song but that doesn’t mean anything. Right?

Unlike Danny, Sam does not recognize the song or pay any mind to it, instead taking in the room before him. It’s interesting, Sam thinks to himself, most of the people dancing together are same sex couples. Huh, wouldn’t expect to see that in a Tennessee line dancing bar.

Danny clears his throat, grabbing the other boys attention as he leans in to talk over the music; “Want to go get a drink first?”

“Do you even have to ask?” he replies, already making his way towards the bar.

They find it packed, and Danny just manages to squeeze in as a woman with short, buzzed hair and dark purple lipstick walks away drink in hand, leaving a spot open. Sam presses himself against Danny’s back, leaning in to talk right into Danny’s ear. He doesn’t hear the hitch in Danny’s breath as their bodies make contact, music and conversation drowning it out as he begins to speak. “Hey, I think I just saw a table for two open up, I’ll go save us some seats. Order me something? I don’t care what, surprise me.”

Danny half turns to respond, but Sam is already halfway across the room, making a beeline for the only empty table left in the venue. He smiles at his friend’s dedication, turning again towards the wall of alcohol behind the counter and catches the eye of one of the bartenders as she makes her way towards him.

“What can I get you tonight, hun?” she questions, drying her hands on a bar rag as she waits for his answer.

“Uh Rum and Coke for me, please.” He starts.

She grabs a nearby glass, reaching for a bottle behind her. “And for your boyfriend?”

Danny’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

She looks at him expectantly. “That man that just walked away from you, maroon shirt, long hair in a braid. You ordering for him?”

She thinks Sam and I are a couple. Danny’s cheeks flush as he tries to organize his thoughts enough to order something for Sam. “Oh uh, yeah. He’ll have a Dirty Shirley.”

“You got it.” She sets Danny’s drink down in front of him, replacing the bottles she had used and grabbing new ones from the heavily stocked shelf behind her.

“Oh, and can you put 4 Maraschino Cherries in instead of just one or two?”

She smiles at him, “Of course, hun. Your man got a sweet tooth?”

He looks down at his drink, indulging himself in the idea of Sam being his man for a few seconds. “Yeah, something like that.”

He glances in Sam’s direction as she makes his drink, only to find Sam already staring directly at him. He quickly looks away when he makes eye contact with Danny, seeming to be extremely intrigued by the lights near the DJ’s table all of a sudden.

Why was he staring at me? Maybe I’m taking too long. Did he blush? No, don’t be stupid Danny, it’s just the lighting.

The bartender pulls Danny’s attention away from the man across the room still avoiding his gaze by setting Sam’s drink down in front of him. “Here ya are, hun.”

Danny thanks her, pays for the drinks, and makes his way through the various throngs of people gathered here and there, both drinks in hand. He approaches the table, setting down their glasses as Sam looks at his, and finally looks at Danny again, a wide smile on his face.

“A Dirty Shirley with 4 Maraschino Cherries, how’d you know?”

Danny returns his smile and shrugs, “It’s your favorite. And the last time Jake came back with our drinks and yours only had 2 cherries instead of 4 like you asked, you got all pouty for like 30 minutes, how could I forget?”

Sam’s smile softens as he takes in Danny’s features, watching the path of his hand bring his glass to his mouth to take a sip. His eyes linger on Danny’s lips for longer than he cares to admit, watching his tongue flit out to lick them. He tears his gaze away, looking upwards to find Danny already softly looking at him. Sam’s cheeks redden as he looks down at his own drink, praying that Danny didn’t notice the bright blush on his face in this light, or the fact that he was not-so-platonically staring at his lips.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, hopefully the line isn’t too long.” Danny starts. “Watch my drink for me, will you?”

Sam looks up at his friend again and attempts to ignore what had just happened by nonchalantly popping one of the cherries into his mouth. “You got it.”

With that Danny walks away from the table, following the signs pointing towards the bathroom until he disappears out of sight. Sam groans, leaning forward until his forehead hits the cool resin of the table.

I need to not be sober to make it through the rest of this night, jesus christ. He sits up again, grabbing his glass and bypassing the thin straw intended for sipping, instead taking a large gulp of his drink, letting the familiar refreshing taste calm his nerves momentarily.

He places the glass back on the table, too focused on the action and his nerves still making his stomach twist to notice the, quite sparkly, man approaching him.

“Howdy there, sugar. Such a damn shame to see such a sad look on such a pretty man’s face.” He smiles at Sam, before continuing. “Been watchin’ you since you walked in here. What happened? Your boyfriend leave you all on your lonesome?”

Sam looks the man up and down, from the white cowboy hat on top of his head, to the embroidered and bedazzled black button up shirt, down to his slim black bootcut jeans, adorned with the largest and flashiest belt buckle Sam had ever seen, and finally landing on the expensive looking black cowboy boots on his feet, complete with silver heel and toe fittings.

He sits in the seat across from Sam, the one he had saved for Danny. Sam eyes the man, reaching over and sliding Danny’s glass away from the stranger, towards his now half-empty drink. He looks the man straight in the eye, still not returning his smile. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well it looks like he ain’t tryin hard to be, leavin you all alone and all.”

Sam rolls his eyes, looking down at his drink in his hand, absentmindedly swirling the contents around. “It’s not like that, he’s just a friend. And I’m sorry I don’t mean to sound rude but, can I help you?”

The man barks out a laugh. “Hell that was just about the funniest damn thing I’ve heard all day. ‘He’s just a friend’. You’re tellin’ me he brought you to a gay line dancin’ bar, on a steal night, and he ain’t tryin’ to get any further than ‘just friends’. I’m sorry but that is bull fucking shit, sugar.”

Sam zones the man’s voice out for a second, too lost in thought.

Oh my god. This is a gay bar. That explains… so much. Wait did… did Danny know this was a gay bar? No, he would have told me if he knew.

“Anyways, darlin’, I was actually hoping you could help me. My name’s Dawson. Dallas Dawson.”

Sam gives Dallas a blank stare, mind still caught up with all the new information he had provided to Sam about the bar, his mind unintentionally wandering to Danny’s intentions.

Where the fuck is Danny?

“This is the part where you tell me your name, doll.” Dallas laughs, it feels cruel to Sam, as if it’s at his expense. “Sure as hell is a good thing you’re pretty.”

There it is. God this guy is an asshole.

“Samuel. My name is Samuel.” He responds, not caring if he sounded cold to Dallas.

“Well then Sammy boy, pleased to make your acquaintance. This your first time at a line dancin’ joint?”

Danny’s the only one that can call me Sammy.

He clears his throat, offering a brief, “Yep.”, and nothing else.

“Well then, looks like we can help each other, sugar. Since your friend ain’t here, and ‘don’t got any intentions with you’, how’s about I buy you a cold Budweiser and we get to know each other better. Maybe get a dance or two in, I can show you the ropes.” He punctuates his last sentence with a wink, smugly smiling at Sam as if he just used the world’s best pick up line.

God I fucking hate Budweiser.

“Actually, we just got drinks, although I’m sure he appreciates the offer.” Relief floods Sam as he sees Danny approach their table. “And, he agreed to be designated driver tonight so probably shouldn’t have more than what he’s already got.”

Dallas looks between Sam and Danny, scoffing as he sizes Daniel up. “Well looky here folks, looks like Sammy boys keeper came back for him.”

“Not his keeper, just an old friend. Which, speaking of, I sure would love for you to stay and chat but,” the sarcasm in his voice is almost palpable, and Sam begins to worry that Dallas might try to start something with Danny based off the way his jaw is clenched as he stares the other man down. “Sam and I haven’t seen each other in a while, have a lot of catching up to do.” Danny flashes Dallas a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and steps to the side, signaling for Dallas to get out of his chair.

Dallas looks over at Sam, offering a genuine smile. “Well darlin’, I know when I’m not wanted.” He stands up, winking at Sam before continuing. “Hope to see you around, Sammy.” He takes one final look at Danny before walking off into the crowd.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief and slides Danny’s drink back across the table towards him as he takes the seat previously occupied by Dallas.

“Are you ok, Sammy?” Daniel asks, genuine concern in his voice and painted across his features. He resists the urge to reach out and take Sam’s hand in his own; to gently rub his knuckles with his thumb to comfort him.

He looks at Danny, forcing a smile onto his face. “Yeah, that guy was such a douche, am I right?” He laughs lightly, trying to clear his mind and the air between them. “You are surprisingly good at lying, Daniel Wagner. Care to explain that?” He cocks his eyebrow at the other man, awaiting his response.

Danny shrugs, “Anything to get that asshole away from you.”

Sam offers a small smile to him, “Thank you, I appreciate it. So uh, subject change but, this is a gay bar.”

“Yeah, kinda have pieced that together over the evening. I promise, I didn’t know. Austin just told me this was a new line dancing bar, I swear he never mentioned anything about it being a gay bar.” Danny blurts out, worried that Sam might think he’s trying to make unwanted advances.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.” He smiles at Danny, a genuine smile, which helps ease the anxiety building in the other man. “Also, Dallas the Douchebag Dawson said something about this being a steal night? Do you know what that means?”

Danny’s face drops as suddenly, all the pieces click together.

Oh, I am going to kill Austin. He is pretty much the only person that knows about my feelings for Sam, and now that I think about it, he was the one to suggest I ask Sam to come with me tonight. Slick bastard.

“Uh, yeah I do actually. Sometimes bars will hold ‘steal nights’, where the whole point of it is to steal someone else’s partner mid dance. There’s a rule where you’re not supposed to steal someone’s partner if they’re new to it, but if you’d like to leave I completely understand.” Danny avoids looking at Sam by taking a long swig of his slightly watered-down drink.

“I know how much you wanted to come tonight, Danny. I’m fine staying.” Sam says as softly as he can while still being able to be heard over the noise surrounding them.

Danny looks at Sam surprised, furrowing his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I know this wasn’t your scene anyways and after that asshat and the whole misunderstanding about the bar, I don’t want to make you stay if you don’t want to.”

“Yes Daniel, I’m sure.” he reassures. “Besides, you need to show me how to line dance. You wouldn’t make me come all the way out here just to go home without a dance, would you?”

Danny’s face lights up, “Really?” he questions eagerly.

“No, I was just fucking with you for shits and giggles.” Sam deadpans before letting a smile grace his features once more. “Yes, really. After we finish our drinks, I expect you to swoop me off my feet on that dance floor.”

Danny laughs, full and bright, “Alright then, sounds like a deal then, Sammy.” His gaze lingers on his best friend for a few moments longer, before he forces himself to look out at the sea of people occupying the dance space as they sip their drinks in comfortable silence. Sam is the first one to break it when a song he recognizes starts playing.

“Holy shit Danny, I actually know this one.” he says, grinning at his friend.

“Well then, sounds like the perfect song to start teaching you the basics of line dancing. That is, if you’re finished with your drink.”

Sam dramatically stands, swooping his hands out in front of him in a grand gesture and bowing slightly. “Lead the way, Daniel.”

Danny laughs, hopping off his chair and grabbing Sam’s wrist as he passes him, pulling him along behind him as they make their way to the dance floor. He finds a corner of the room that isn’t too populated, hoping that the pair would have a little extra wiggle room for Sam to get the hang of it. Still holding onto Sam’s wrist, he pulls him closer, leaning down slightly to make sure Sam can hear him over the music, now louder on the dance floor.

“Ok so all I can say is, go with the flow, twirls and spins are like half of it, let me lead, and make sure you have at least one hand on me at all times. That’s like the main contact point of line dancing.” Danny looks at Sam, obvious nerves and slight panic written on his face. He brings the hand not holding his wrist up to his opposite bicep and gives him a comforting squeeze, waiting until Sam brings his gaze up to Danny’s to continue. “Hey, it’ll be fine, I promise. Feel the music, let me lead.” He smiles reassuringly down at him, feeling warmth rise in his chest when Sam does the same.

“Yeah, ok. Let you lead. Alright. I got this. I’m ready.” Sam’s heart flutters in his chest when Danny brings his hands down to hold Sam’s before he’s suddenly pushed away from him, both men holding the other at arm’s length. Danny pulls him right back in almost immediately, letting go of one of his hands and placing it on Sam’s hip to guide him into a spin. He slightly stumbles at the end and falls into Danny, not expecting the sudden turn and having almost no traction in his boots. His unoccupied right hand flies up to Danny’s pec, as Danny’s left hand finds a place on Sam’s lower back, steadying him against his front.

Danny stares down at him, their faces mere inches away from each other, and is sure his heart is racing. He prays to every god who will listen in that moment that Sam can’t feel it from where his hand rests on his chest. He is… so beautiful.

Holy shit, why is his heart beating so fast? He’s probably just worried I’ll fall or make a fool out of him. With this thought Sam immediately straightens, slightly pulling away from the other man.

“Sorry, I should have given you a warning.” Danny apologizes. Sam doesn’t miss the way his hand leaves his lower back, moving to hover near Sam’s free hand before he asks, “You alright to continue?”

With the comfort of Danny checking in with him, Sam finds a small amount of confidence and makes the first move, slotting his hand into Danny’s and taking a step towards him again. “Yeah, thanks. When I said I expected you to sweep me off my feet, I didn’t mean literally.”

Danny laughs lightly, “Yeah, again my bad. I’ll give you a warning next time.” He smiles and repeats his previous moves, pausing before spinning Sam again to offer a heads up to the other man. This time Sam doesn’t slip, and his hand perfectly lands right back into Danny’s at the end of his turn. “Hey that was great! You’re a natural, Sammy.”

Sam laughs, looking up at his best friend, “I think you’re giving me too much credit but, I’ll take it. Thanks.” He starts to feel the flow of the music as he moves with Danny who spins him again, this time around his back as he turns slightly to meet Sam. Before Sam realizes what’s happening, he’s spun again, landing with his back pressing flush against Danny’s front at the end. Danny’s left arm is holding Sam’s right hand across his body, his right-hand abandoning Sam’s to instead rest on his hip.

“So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk.

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder.”

Too caught up in the moment, Sam turns in Danny’s arms and without thinking, brings his arms up to rest on his shoulders, crossing his wrists behind Danny’s head as he tries not to knock his hat off.

He looks incredible in this light. I mean, he looks incredible in any light but…

“And I, I, had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone.”

The men gaze at each other as the song ends, too lost in the moment to realize they had stopped dancing. The song changing to something faster paced pulls them out of their trance, and Danny is the first to pull away, stepping back slightly and moving Sam’s arms so that he’s lightly holding his wrists at a “safe” distance.

Fuck. He knows how I feel about him. I made him uncomfortable, and he knows. He’s going to hate me. He must hate me.

Sam feels the sting of tears at this thought, considering excusing himself to the bathroom to spare himself the embarrassment of crying in front of Danny.

“You doing ok, Sammy? Want to keep dancing?” Danny asks, sensing the shift in his best friend.

Ok, maybe… maybe he doesn’t hate me? Sam clears his throat, keeping his tears at bay by reasoning with himself that if Danny recognized Sam’s feelings for him and hated him for it or felt uncomfortable, he wouldn’t ask him to keep dancing. “Yeah… yeah I want to keep dancing.”

Danny looks at him expectantly, as if waiting for elaboration. “And you’re ok, right?”

Moving his hands into Danny’s, he tries for a smile, “Yeah, and I’m ok.” Hoping to move past the subject, Sam begins swaying himself and Danny along to the music as he builds up his courage, until he finally finds the right moment and spins Danny behind him, just as the other boy had done to him moments prior. Going with the flow like Danny had said, he spins him twice with one hand after he makes his initial turn around Sam, catching Danny off guard but not enough to knock him off his feet like he had for Sam.

“Nothing but you can make me feel alive

Set my heart on fire, turn this silver sky

Into a California blue, fireworks in July.”

Danny beams at him, continuing their various spins and steps as he praises the other man. “That was amazing, Sammy! You went with the flow perfectly, just like I said!”

Sam grins, “Yeah well, I guess I had an amazing teacher. That or I’m just a natural. Born to line dance I think.” Danny snorts at this, much to Sam’s delight.

I’ll never stop making stupid jokes if it means I might make him laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement at Sam’s joke.

He could say the least funny joke in the world, and I think I’d still laugh.

They dance through the rest of the song and when it switches to what Danny recognizes as Turn on the Radio, they dance through that too; perfecting their flow and rhythm, although still occasionally bursting into fits of laughter after bumping into each other while trying to do the same move to the other multiple times. After the song ends the pair pauses, leaning against the wall as they take a moment to catch their breath.

“Y’know, I’m having a lot more fun than I thought I would.” Sam admits, taking shallow breaths as he fans himself. "Thank you for asking me to come tonight."

Danny looks down at his shoes to hide his blush, taking a brief moment to collect himself before looking over to the boy at his side, “Of course, thank you for coming. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“She’s poppin’ right out of the South Georgia water

Thought, ‘Oh, good Lord, she had them long tanned legs’

Couldn’t help myself so I walked up and said...”

Sam laughs, the one that made his sound like he was high and giggly, “Hey just like you in the summer, Danny. ‘Long tanned legs’.”

Despite his racing heart and mind, Danny manages to chuckle out, “You lookin’ at my legs, Kiszka?”

“Maybe.” Sam looks over at the other boy, his expression sincere. “Care to dance again? I’ve taken a long enough break.”

What the fuck? Was he… flirting? Danny decides to move on past the remark, just as Sam had. “Uh, yeah. Although I think our spots been taken.” he comments, noticing that “their” corner had been filled by another pair of men passionately dancing.

“That’s fine, we can move further out onto the floor.” he responds, already grabbing Danny’s hand and pulling him towards the edge of the dance floor. They come to a temporary stop and once again, he takes the lead and resumes their dance, spinning himself under Danny’s arm.

Danny continues the conversation as they move together, trying to keep Sam as close as possible in order to be heard over the music.

“You sure you’re alright out here? We aren’t as, I don’t know, hidden.” Realizing what his statement could have implied, he rushes his words out to clarify. “Not that I want us to be hidden or anything! Just because you’re still new, I want you to feel comfortable.”

Sam smiles at him, feeling his heart soar at the fact that Danny was continuously making sure Sam felt safe and comfortable in this new situation and environment. “Yeah, I think I’ve gotten the hang of it enough to not be so worried out here. I appreciate you making sure though.”

They dance until the song ends, only a moments pause before the next song comes blaring over the speakers.

“Last night, I got served a little bit too much of that poison baby.

Last night, I did things I’m not proud of and I got a little crazy.

Last night, I met a guy on the dance floor,

And I let him call me ‘baby’.”

Danny spins Sam behind him as he had done many times that night, and suddenly, he doesn’t feel Sam’s hand in his own anymore. Thinking he must have accidentally let go he turns, expecting to see Sam close behind him. Instead, he sees his friend being swept away by a man in an infuriatingly familiar white cowboy hat. The pair are swallowed by the movement of couples on the dance floor as Danny is pushed to the edge of the room, watching helplessly as the white hat disappears into the crowd.

“Fancy runnin’ into you again, sugar. Hope I wasn’t interruptin’ anythin’ important there.”

Fucking. Dallas.

He grins at Sam, who’s already trying to loosen the other man’s grip on him. “You just looked too good bein’ spun around like that, doll. I saw my opportunity and just had to steal you, get a taste of you for myself.” He winks at Sam, grip surprisingly firm on his hands.

“Actually, you kind of fucking did interrupt us.” Sam shoots back, his tone thick with anger. “Let go of me.” He continues to struggle against his grip, now taking a step back to distance himself from Dallas. He takes a step forward towards Sam, grip unfaltering as he manages to “dance” with Sam without letting go of either hand.

“Now don’t be rude and go off leavin’ me mid dance, darlin’. You gotta give me till at least the end of the song. Besides, why would you want to go back to pretty boy over there. He ain’t gonna give you what you want.” He leans in, grinning suggestively at Sam with a fire in his eyes that almost frightens him. “I can, sugar. I can give you everything you want and more.”

Sam continues his attempts at escaping Dallas, a look of disgust painted across his features. “Fuck all of the way off, asshole.”

Offense is painted clearly across Dallas’ face as he continues, “Woah woah woah, sugar. No need to get so hostile. Now I may not wear shorts in the summer, and may not be as tall as your pretty boy but I still got mighty fine legs that you are free to ogle all you want, darlin’. Won’t even have to work too hard to see them without these jeans on.”

Sam’s confusion only lasts for a second, before he remembers the brief flirty comment he had given Danny before they resumed their dance. “Wait a fucking minute, were you listening to our conversation?? What the actual fuck, what’s wrong with you?”

“I told you earlier that I had my eye on you since you came through that door, doll. Been trying to get close enough to shoot my shot without pretty boy noticin’.” He shrugs innocently, “Couldn’t help but overhear a thing or two.”

The song changes, but Sam is too lost in his fury at what Dallas had so casually confessed to him to tell him that his dance was over. “What kind of a fucking creep-“ he trails off as he spots Danny across the room, making brief eye contact and praying that Danny can feel his silent cry for help before Dallas turns them and Danny is lost from his sight.

Dallas tightens his grip, anger flashing across his features momentarily. “I told you not to get hostile, darlin’.”

“And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man.

But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I’m begging of you, please don’t take my man.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please don’t take him just because you can.”

He gasps slightly at the motion, pain shooting through his fingers.

I don’t know what the fuck he’s going to try if Danny doesn’t get here soon. Danny. Where the fuck is Danny?

Voice tinted with fear, he manages to form a sentence despite his racing thoughts. “Let go. You’re… you’re hurting me.”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Run back to your pretty boy? Hell, he don’t even want you.” He laughs cruelly. Dallas feels a firm grip on his shoulder before he hears him.

“He said. Let. Go. You’re hurting him.” With rage dripping from his words, Danny pulls Dallas away from Sam. In his surprise, he loosens his grip enough for Sam to make his escape, immediately finding a home in Danny’s arms as he swoops in to “steal” Sam back. He gently takes Sam’s hands in his own as he maneuvers the pair away from Dallas without drawing too much attention to the situation unfolding.

“If you bring your Buckle Bunny ass near us again, we’re going to have more of a fucking problem between us, you pile of absolute horse shit.” Danny fires at Dallas before continuing their path away from him.

Enraged, Dallas follows them off the dance floor, trialing Danny as he guides Sam in front of him with a soft hand on his back.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that, pretty boy? Where do you get off controlin’ him like that, huh? You ain’t even his boyfriend or nothin’, I can dance with him if I fuckin’ please.” He shouts after them.

Danny turns, shielding Sam from him with his own body, preparing for the worst. I have no fucking idea what I’ll do if he swings, but at least his attention isn’t on Sammy anymore.

Before he can get to the pair, the muscular bouncer that had checked Sam and Danny’s IDs appears, seemingly out of nowhere, drawn to the commotion that Dallas’ yelling had caused.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” He asks, looking from Dallas fuming to Danny’s furious but collected expression, and finally landing on Sam behind him, eyes wide with panic and darting between the other three men.

Danny starts before Dallas can even form a coherent excuse or explanation. “This man has been harassing my friend all night. Doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Why you lyin’ piece of SHIT-“ Dallas starts towards Danny, finding his path suddenly blocked by the bouncer, his hand pushing against Dallas’ chest. “He’s lyin’ I swear to it! I’m just tryin’ to enjoy my night, dance with his friend, and his jealous ass keeps interruptin’ us! Sammy boy didn’t have no problem with us dancin’,” he peeks over the bouncer and Danny’s shoulders, trying to catch Sam’s eye. “Ain’t that right, sugar?”

“I’ve heard enough, c’mon, I’ll walk you out.” The man steps to the side and motions with his arm towards the exit, signaling to Dallas to start walking.

“ME?! You’re kickin’ me out?” his voice raises, drawing the attention of several patrons dancing nearby. “How fuckin’ dare you kick ME out!”

He raises his eyebrows at Dallas, “Either you can leave now on your own terms and hold on to whatever dignity you have left, or I can drag you out by those fancy lookin’ boots, y’hear me?”

Dallas sputters, face turning tomato red before he turns on his heel, storming out and yelling a final, “FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!” before being trailed out the door by the bouncer.

Danny’s grateful that all the attention drawn to them dissipates with Dallas’ departure as couples resume their dancing. He turns back to Sam, delicately taking a hold of one of his wrists and leading him to a quieter corner of the bar. Danny places his hands lightly on Sam’s shoulders, waiting for the shorter man to look him in the eyes. He softens his gaze and tone to speak to Sam, not wanting his anger at Dallas to be directed at Sam.

“Are you ok?”

Sam clears his throat, attempting to find the words to express everything he was feeling in that moment. “Yeah. I mean, no, but… yeah I’m alright. Thank you for stepping in when you did. I… I didn’t know how I was going to get away from him.” He looks down at his shoes, and a massive wave of fear and embarrassment that Danny had to step in and help, that he wasn’t able to do it himself, washes over him.

Danny gives a slight squeeze of comfort to Sam’s shoulders, causing him to look back up at him. “Of course, Sammy.” He looks around the bar briefly before turning his attention back to Sam. “Listen, we can leave if you want. Maybe wait a few minutes and then ask that bouncer if he’d walk us to our car. I know it’s crowded and,” he exhales a deep sigh through his nose, “all that just happened. So I’m ok with leaving if you want.”

“No, please. I want to stay. Other than that, I was having a lot of fun all night and I don’t want it ruined by that douchebag.” He offers a small smile to Danny, hoping it will help convince him that he truly does want to stay.

“Alright… but if you want to leave at any point, just tell me and we can go.” He expresses, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. “Do you want to dance again or go get another drink? We can do whatever you feel up for, just say the words.”

Sam pauses, thinking back on the past five minutes and allowing himself to feel everything that had been overshadowed by the anxiety and fear that Dallas had caused.

Did I find it kind of… hot, how Danny reacted to and dealt with Dallas? And the way that he keeps checking in to make sure I’m ok kind of makes me want to cry, but also… kiss him?

Sam’s head swims with confusion as the realization hits him like a truck.

Shit. I knew I was attracted to him, but I think maybe I’m in fucking love with him.

His thoughts race between this realization, to all the signs that should have tipped him off earlier, to how Danny might feel about him, and finally landing on what he should do.

He has been dropping some hints over the night, now that I think about it. You never know unless you try. Fuck what if he hates me for it. That’s insane, Danny could never hate me. I have to try.

“Can I..” Sam starts, gaining the courage to go forward with his spontaneous plan. He collects himself enough to continue, “Can I have a hug? Please, Danny?”

The look of confusion and worry at Sam’s demeanor drops from his face and is replaced by a shy grin. “Of course you can Sammy-“

Danny barely has enough time to slightly lift his arms before he is tackled around the middle by Sam, his arms clinging to Danny’s abdomen and face quickly finding a home in the crook of his neck. Danny wastes no time wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders, placing his left hand in the center of his mid-back, his right resting at the base of his neck, laying over his braid.

The pair stay this way for a few minutes, and Danny begins absentmindedly rubbing the other man’s back with his left hand as his right slowly comes up to cradle the back of Sam’s head.

When Danny feels Sam begin to pull away, he loosens his hold on him, leaning back to look at his friend. Sam comes to a stop with his face just inches away from Danny’s, the pair so close that he can feel Danny’s warm breath on his lips. Sam manages to tear his eyes away from Danny’s lips, moving upwards and seeing Danny staring right back at him, pupils blown so wide his irises are almost all black.

“Remember how you said we could do anything I felt up for?” he questions, voice barely above a whisper.

Danny swallows, mind racing between so many thoughts that the only coherent sound he manages to make is, “Mhm…”.

Sam takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the excited butterflies and nervous ball of energy in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, I have an idea. Of what I want, of what I feel up for.” There’s no going back after this. It’s now or never, I just need to rip the band aid off. “Kiss me. Please, Danny.”

There’s a fleeting moment of utter terror where Sam thinks that Danny doesn’t feel the same as he takes a second to process what he had just said. He suddenly snaps back into the moment, his body acting on its own accord as his mind blanks of everything but the thought of Sam.

Their lips crash together as Danny’s hand comes up to grasp Sam’s jaw, his other hand holding onto his bicep. Sam brings his hands to Danny’s sides, grasping at his bare skin through the cut outs of his muscle tee. They lose themselves in each other for what felt like hours, drinking the other up as the bustling crowd around them fades into nothing but background noise. They finally pull away, breathless and panting, as they rest their foreheads against the other, still holding each other close.

What if I open my eyes and this was all a dream, it never even happened. Sam’s mind flies from worry to worry at a mile a minute. Even worse, what if he looks like he regrets it. What if I just ruined everything and nothing will ever be the same between us. What if-

He’s ripped from his thoughts by Danny slightly tilting his head forward, his nose bumping into Sam’s. He feels Danny lean back, the loss of contact causing him to finally open his eyes despite the residual fears of what he may see. His eyes roam over Danny’s pink, plush lips, up to his blush tinted cheeks and nose, and finally finding his soft gaze, where he’s met with a look so full of warmth and love that it knocks the wind out of him.

“I can’t even tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Danny chuckles. “Not to rush anything but… do you want to get out of here?” he asks. His nerves get the best of him, causing him to continue his thought, stuttering out “… Not that we have to do anything! I didn’t mean it to suggest anything if you don’t want to do that.”

“Don’t worry, Danny. I’m fine with leaving soon. Although, I don’t want my last dance of the night to have been with, what did you call him? That ‘Buckle Bunny’ so,” Sam dons his horrible Southern accent to continue, “Will you give me one last dance, partner.”

Danny snorts, rolling his eyes playfully before he responds. “Yeah, of course.” He puts on the same accent to amuse the other boy, his attempt barely better than Sam’s. “I would be honored, sweetheart.”

Despite it being part of a bit, Sam blushes at the pet name, breaking eye contact to let his head fall against Danny’s shoulder in an attempt to hide the lovesick grin on his face. Sam hones back into the background sounds of the club he had been ignoring as the song playing over the speakers ends, and another one he actually recognized starts blaring over the speakers.

“Well, I walk into the room

Passing out hundred-dollar bills

And it kills and it thrills, like the horns on my Silverado grill.”

Sam’s head snaps up and he sees the recognition of the song painted across Danny’s face as well. Oh my fucking god, what a perfect coincidence.

“We have to dance to this one-“ he starts, dragging Danny behind him as he quickly makes his way to an empty space on the dance floor. They resume the flow they previously had while dancing as if there had been no interruption in the first place, grinning at each other as they spun and twirled until they felt dizzy.

Sam spins Danny behind him, knocking his hat off in the process and Sam fumbles for it, not wanting his hat to get trampled in the packed crowd. He manages to catch it, and suddenly remembers the rule Danny had explained to him in the car ride over. He makes sure the other man is looking at him before he places it on his own head just as the end of the chorus plays, singing along with it.

“Everybody says,

‘Save a horse, Ride a cowboy’”

Despite the dim lighting, Sam sees Danny’s pupils blow impossibly wider as his breath catches in his throat. He pulls Sam towards him by the waist, leaning towards him to be heard over the music.

“Do you want to leave now?” he asks, voice sultry and breath uneven.

“Lead the way, Danny.”

The pair exit the dance floor, Danny in front holding Sam’s hand so they didn’t get separated in the crowd as they make a beeline for the exit. The fresh air hits them like a punch as they step into the chilly night and away from the muggy, cramped club. Sam has to almost jog to keep up with Danny as he speeds down the block to where they parked. The two men practically throw themselves into the car immediately after Danny unlocks it, putting their seatbelts on as fast as possible as Danny shifts the car into reverse.

They ride in silence, the air thick with anticipation. Danny’s the first to break it, clearing his throat and glancing at Sam who is nervously chewing on his cuticles in the passenger seat.

“So, uh… I want you to know that, whatever happens, I don’t want it to be a one and done thing. I want to be with you, Sam. I want to be your boyfriend… I have for years. And if this is just an experiment, or you don’t want that then please tell me now.”

Sam drops his hand from his mouth, looking at Danny who had turned his focus back to the road. “This isn’t an experiment, I promise.” He reaches over, placing his hand on Danny’s thigh. “I want to be with you, Danny. Both in a relationship and… y'know... intimately.”

Danny steals a look at Sam, shooting him a small smile as he registers what he had said. “Good, great… that’s great.” Anxiety creeps in as his mind wanders to the implications of their conversation. He clears his throat, once again grabbing the attention of Sam.

“So uh… I have to ask.” Danny grips the steering wheel, white knuckled as nerves flood him. “Have you ever… have you ever been with another man before?”

Sam removes his hand from Danny’s leg and begins fidgeting with it in his lap, suddenly shy and slightly reserved. “No, I haven’t. I never… experimented, because the only man I’ve ever wanted to be with like that has been you.”

Danny reaches over and takes one of Sam’s hands in his own, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he turns into the entrance of his neighborhood. “That’s ok, we can do as much or as little as you’re comfortable with, Sammy. And I… I have… experimented before.” Sam’s head shoots up as Danny rushes to explain. “Not with another guy! I’ve just… done ‘research’, you could say. Experimented in case… in case we ever… or I ever wanted to… do that… with another man. I don’t know if you knowing that… changes how you feel… or anything.”

They pull up to Danny’s house as he finishes his explanation, Danny turning the car off and looking over at Sam to see his reaction to his confession.

“That actually makes me feel better, Danny. I know… I know you’ll take care of me, I trust you.” He offers a small smile as the pair sit in now comfortable silence, taking in the other’s features and the new dynamic between them. “Not to rush anything but, we should go inside. Like I said earlier, ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy.’ And I am still wearing your hat.” Sam winks, then promptly exits the car and saunters up to Danny’s front door, leaving the poor man speechless in his seat, with a growing problem in his jeans.

He rushes after him, locking his car as he resists the urge to sprint up the driveway towards Sam. Both feel the new, pent-up energy between them as Danny fumbles with his keys as he tries to unlock the door, finally opening it and pulling Sam inside. The second he clicks the lock back into place, his hands are on Sam, shoving him against the wall as their lips collide, the pace and urgency much faster than it had been back at the bar.

Danny slots himself in between Sam’s legs, grinding into him and feeling his hardening dick against his own. Both men groan at the action, spurring them on even more as Danny playfully bites down on Sam’s lower lip. He gasps at the slight pain mixing with the pleasure, and Danny’s hat falls off as Sam’s head falls back against the wall. The hat is left abandoned on the floor as Danny trails a combination of soft bites and soothing kisses down the other man’s neck, pulling Sam with him as he backs down the hall in the direction of his room.

The pair break apart long enough for them to kick their shoes off halfway down the hall, hands returning to each other’s bodies as Danny pushes Sam backwards into his room. His hands trail lightly across the hem of Sam’s shirt, his fingers ghosting across the soft skin of Sam’s stomach, causing an anticipatory shiver to run through him. Danny raises his eyebrows at Sam, silently asking for the permission that is immediately granted with an eager nod. Danny pulls the other man’s shirt over his head, his own shirt following in quick pursuit, and their lips reconnect as Danny’s muscle tee joins Sam’s button up on the floor.

Sam’s hands fumble at the button on Danny’s jeans as he’s backed against the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the edge, and he breaks their kiss to prevent himself from falling. Danny finishes the job Sam had started, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down his legs, attempting to step out of them as his hands find the button on Sam’s pants, both of their jeans ending up in a crumpled pile on the floor.

Both men hastily climb onto the bed, and Danny quickly finds a spot on top of Sam between his legs, pinning him to the bed with his body as he sucks what are sure to become hickeys into his neck and chest. Sam’s hands tangle in Danny’s hair, giving a slight tug at his roots causing Danny to groan softly and grind against him. Danny trails his way back up to Sam’s lips, giving him one final kiss before he pulls away, looking at the man below him.

In between shaky breaths, Danny manages to form a coherent sentence amidst his racing thoughts. “Listen… I know you said ‘ride a cowboy’… but considering this is your first time with another man… I understand if you don’t want to try that tonight… I want you to be completely comfortable, Sammy.”

The other man looks up at him with adoration at how considerate and understanding he was, smiling at him as he props himself up on his elbows, placing a gentle kiss to Danny’s lips. “I trust you, Danny. I want to go all the way with you. Like I said earlier, I know you’ll take care of me.”

Danny’s heart soars at his response, returning his smile before his lips are on Sam’s once more. He pulls away, eliciting a whine of protest from Sam, confusion written on his face as he watches Danny get up and disappear into his bathroom. Sam’s confusion furthers when he hears the sink turn on for a few seconds, Danny coming back into the bedroom moments later, a wet washcloth in hand. He sets it on top of the small table next to his bed as he opens the bottom drawer, Sam’s jaw dropping slightly and his breath catching in his throat as he sees what’s in Danny’s hand. He places a condom and small bottom of lube next to the washcloth and returns to his position over Sam.

“Now,” Danny starts, “Where was I?” His mouth returns to Sam’s neck as he resumes his previous actions of peppering light bites across his skin, soothing them with kisses or the flick of his tongue. Sam’s hands find their way back into Danny’s hair as he begins trailing downwards, his mouth grazing over Sam’s collarbone, then down the center of his chest, finally stopping at his stomach, just above the waistband of his underwear.

“What’s… what’s the towel for? Why do you need lube if there’s a condom?” Sam pants out.

“Well, Sammy.” Danny makes his way back up, stopping just inches away from Sam’s face as he looks at the other man. “There’s a little more prep work than you might be used to… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh… ok.“

“We can stop whenever, I don’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable doing.” Danny starts, worry that he could be rushing Sam flooding into him.

Sam sees the change in demeanor and is quick to reach up and give Danny’s biceps a gentle squeeze. “I know. I don’t want to stop, but if I do I promise I’ll tell you.”

Danny gives him a small smile with this reassurance, all anxiety leaving his body at Sam’s words, before ducking his head down to give Sam a quick kiss. He looks at the man below him as his fingertips begin to trace the band of his boxers, cocking his eyebrow as he questions, “Can I?”

“Please do.”

Danny needs no other confirmation as he pulls the fabric down off his legs, quickly joining the rest of their clothes on the floor. His eyes roam over Sam’s body, starting at his face and moving south as he sucks a breath in through his mouth.

I feel so… exposed. As if Danny could read Sam’s mind, he pulls off his own briefs and chucks them towards the growing pile of their clothes.

Danny reaches for the bottle of lube, squirting it liberally onto the fingers of his right hand. He caps the bottle again and places it back on the table as he evenly spreads the lube on his fingers. He finds himself back in between Sam’s legs and begins to press soft kisses to the insides of his thighs as he looks up at him.

“You ready, Sammy?”

“Please fuck me, Danny.”

With that, Danny brings his hand up to Sam’s entrance, circling his middle finger there before slowly pushing the digit in. Sam’s mouth falls open as his head tilts back, his hands fisting the sheets as Danny pauses to let him get used to the feeling.

“You ok, sweetheart?”

Sam’s heart skips a beat at the pet name. “Yeah, please move, I swear I’m ok. I just need you to fuck me, please.”

Sam’s words make Danny grind against the bed, searching for any friction to relieve the ache in between his legs, his cock so hard that was almost painful. He slowly pulls his finger out, thrusting it back in carefully as Sam whines and clenches around him. He steadily picks up his pace as he’s met with an almost constant stream of whines and breathy moans from Sam’s mouth.

“Is it ok if I add another? I want to get to 3 before you ride me.”

Sam moans, “Oh FUCK, please Danny, please, I fucking need you.”

On his next pump in, Danny’s ring finger joins his middle as Sam groans at the additional digit. Danny slows his movement, scissoring his fingers inside Sam to slowly stretch him out. He notices Sam’s cock leaking precum onto his stomach, the tip a deep red from neglect. He grabs the base with his unoccupied hand, bringing his mouth up and circling his head with his tongue. The moan that leaves Sam’s mouth is what Danny can only describe as pornographic, his hips involuntarily jutting forward as he groans around Sam’s dick. Danny experimentally bobs his head up and down, drawing more moans and curses to fall from Sam’s lips.

“FUCK- Danny- as much as I- shit- as much as I’m enjoying this, I’m not going to last… shit, I’m not going to last much longer like this- please- please add another-“ Sam pants out.

Danny obliges, pulling himself off of Sam as he adds his index finger to Sam’s ass. He bites and kisses marks into Sam’s thighs as he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching them to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Sam with the size of his cock.

After a minute, Sam is practically coming undone around Danny’s fingers, “Danny please, please I’m ready. I can’t last much longer, please just fuck me.” He whimpers, breath uneven and shallow as he tries his best not to fall over the edge.

He removes his fingers, and Sam sighs at the loss as Danny wipes his hand with the washcloth, grabbing the condom and tearing it open after his hands have been cleaned. He tosses the wrapper into a small trash can next to the table as he rolls the condom on.

“You want to get on top, Sammy? You can control how much you take that way.” Danny asks sincerely. He smirks before continuing, “That and you did say ‘ride a cowboy’.”

Without saying anything, Sam flips the pair and straddles Danny, now looking up at him with wide eyes, pupils blown wide from desire. Sam reaches behind him and grabs Danny’s cock, lining it up with his entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. Both men moan loudly at their shared pleasure, as Sam continues slowly down until Danny is completely buried in him.

Sam gives himself a moment to adjust to Danny’s size before he begins working himself up and down on his dick. Danny's hands come up to grip Sam’s hips, guiding him as he picks up his speed. Sam’s hands find a place on Danny’s shoulders as he continues his movement, squeezing his muscled skin so hard he was sure he would leave marks from his nails.

Sam lowers himself onto Danny once more and suddenly, his cock hits a spot in Sam that causes his entire body to be set on fire, alight with a surge of pleasure he had never felt before. The only sound he manages to make is a gravelly, “Oh FUCK-“ before he begins to coat Danny’s stomach and chest with his release.

He clenches around Danny as he rides his way through his orgasm, the added pressure causing Danny to follow suit as he arches his back off the mattress, filling the condom up as pleasure crashes over him.

They both come down from their high, panting and spent as Sam raises himself off Danny and comments in an almost awestruck tone, “I think you hit my prostate- holy fuck-“ before collapsing onto the bed next to him. The pair lay there to catch their breath for a moment, and Danny is the first to move as he takes off the used condom and tosses it into the trash, next reaching for the washcloth and wiping Sam’s cum from his stomach. He returns to Sam, gently cleaning him off as he lays on the bed, exhausted from their activities.

Danny finishes and tosses the towel onto the pile of their clothes on the floor, telling himself that that would be his problem tomorrow. He gently pulls the sheets down under Sam, trying to get him under the covers without disturbing him too much.

“Hey, Sammy. You fine crashing now and just saving the shower for tomorrow morning?” he questions softly as he settles himself in next to Sam and pulls the covers over them.

Sam cracks his eyes open, immediately wrapping his arms around Danny’s torso and pulling him close. “Mhm.” he mumbles sleepily, “My legs feel like jello, I think you’d have to carry me to the shower and hold me up.”

Danny laughs lightly, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I wouldn’t mind that.” He responds before reaching over and turning the light off, returning to the embrace of his best friend, now boyfriend, as their limbs tangle together.

Sam yawns, nuzzling his face into Danny’s chest before mumbling, “Maybe next time, we’re definitely going back to that club.”, voice muffled from both exhaustion and his position against Danny.

He smiles, the feeling of Sam’s body against his slowly pulling him towards a much needed slumber. He manages to mutter out a quiet, “Maybe next time I’ll do the riding, cowboy.”, before he gives in to the feeling and drifts into a deep sleep, comfortable and safe with Sammy tucked against him in his arms.

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I would like it to be known there is genuinely a line dancing bar in Nashville called Layla’s Honky Tonk, I was not making that hick ass name up, just changed it to “Bradley’s” to make it a bit gayer.

Also my friends wanted me to mention that we almost solely referred to Dallas as “Buckle Bunny” the entire time I was writing and asking them for input on his character.

All the songs mentioned, in chronological order:

Rhinestone Cowboy- Glen Campbell

Fast Car- Luke Combs

(Fast Car will forever and always be their song to me now)

Nothing But You- Leaving Austin

Turn on the Radio- Reba McEntire

Cruise- Florida Georgia Line

Last Name- Carrie Underwood

Jolene- Dolly Parton

Save a Horse- Big & Rich

Thanks again for reading :)

#fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fic #greta van fluff #daniel gvf #greta van smut #gvf smut #sammy gvf #sanny gvf #cowboy sanny #cowboy danny

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

Text

to the person who anonymously asked about cowboy!steve and reader's future, this fic is not that. the fic you asked for will be coming very soon 🫶🏻

"Honky-Tonk Badonkadonk" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: A certain cowboy and his girl start reminiscing, what with all the things they have planned for their new bar. But maybe, just maybe, they get a tiny bit sidetracked along the way.

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,674

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) 69-ing and wall sex, semi-protected piv sex (reader has an IUD but they don't use condoms), oral both!receiving, fingering f!receiving, cum swallowing, creampie, slightly public sex but not really, nicknames (princess, sweetheart, cowgirl; cowboy, daddy one time), multiple orgasms for both steve ans reader, mentions of squirting but it doesn't actually happen, explicit language, takes place in a bar, probably more because this is filthy as hell

Extra Notes: this took me so long for no good reason, i am so sorry y'all

Originally Written: 04/25/2023 - 05/12/2023; re-written 06/12/2023 - 06/13/2023

Beta Read By: @writer-in-theory (ilysm!!)

filthy fridays can be found here!

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

You took one last look around what was once known as The Lucky Shot, nostalgia flowing through your veins.

The bar was finally starting to look like yours and Steve's, though you nearly shed a tear when he began to paint over the four-leaf clover mural you'd come to love. You were quite sad to see the old place go, but your heart warmed as you thought through all the new possibilities.

Only one piece remained from the old furniture, the little white sofa along the far wall, right next to where the dartboard previously hung. Steve had insisted on leaving it there for when the two of you needed breaks during your renovations, but thus far it had been abandoned.

As if on cue, Steve’s lips met your bare shoulder, placing a delicate peck beside the strap of your tank top. His hands settled on your hips, his voice exhausted and thick as he said, "Come on. Let's take a break."

You were inclined to argue with him. After all, the more work you did, the closer this bar was to being finished. Steve's fan base had been excited for an opening date ever since he'd announced the making of Harrington Brewing Co. Or whatever the two of you decided to name it.

You'd both gone back and forth on what to name the place ever since you'd signed the papers, but nothing had stuck yet. So, until then, you'd settled on Harrington Brewing Co.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, Steve guided you over to the couch, trailing kisses along any bare skin he could find. Sure, your fiancé always craved physical touch, but something about his gestures made you skeptical, wondering if he wanted those kisses to lead to more.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you down onto the leather sofa. He let out a content sigh as he kissed your hair, holding you as close as humanly possible. "Can't believe we have a place that's officially ours."

You let out a sigh of your own, a wide smile taking over your face. "I know," you replied, craning your head to face him. "And just think, in a couple months, we'll be signing the papers on our first house together."

Steve's thumb drew small figure eights across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. "I can't believe you actually want to live with me until the day I die."

"Of course I do," you told him, planting your lips on his for a long overdue kiss. "It's not every day the world's sexiest cowboy asks you to marry him."

As silly as it sounded, it really was true. A national magazine had named Steve 'sexiest cowboy of the year' and you had yet to let him live it down. Any chance you got to mention it, you'd bring it up immediately. Once, when his best friend Dustin had called, you'd even answered the phone with, "You've reached the Harrington residence: home of the sexiest cowboy alive!"

He pulled you back in for another kiss, his hands planted firmly on your hips as he rolled you over. You knew this was the moment those little gestures had been leading up to, but for some reason, you couldn't force yourself to care. You just kept on kissing him.

You could feel his hard-on bump your thigh when his hips rutted, his hands moving to your ass as he rutted them a second time. You moaned as your own hips shifted, his length pressing against the front of your shorts.

"Baby," you said against his lips, "are you ready to call it a day? Head home?"

Steve's lips chased after yours, working your bottom lip between his teeth. He managed to shake his head as he pulled away. "No. I want to take you right here on this couch."

Your heart thumped so loud it made your ears ring. On the one hand, you'd always been kind of curious about public sex. On the other hand, you really couldn't tell if Steve was being serious. "Steve, anybody could-"

"Babe, it's not like anyone's gonna come in here. The place doesn't even have an 'Open For Business' sign. Besides, Harrington's Honky-Tonk isn't exactly in the town square."

You knew by the sharpness of his words that he was joking when he'd called the place by that name, but something about it felt exactly right. "That's it! That's what we'll name it. Harrington's Honky-Tonk."

"We are most definitely not naming it that, but if agreeing gets me one step closer to having my dick shoved inside you, I will gladly agree."

You rolled your eyes, your lips landing on his for a triumphant peck. "Thank you. Now, do that thing you were doing a minute ago."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Dirty talking and making me feel like the luckiest girl alive."

His hands gripped your waist, pushing you down against his hard-on. You gasped as he brushed against you, the friction of his jeans absolutely painful through the sheer material of your shorts. "You are the only one who has ever gotten me this hard, you know that?"

Of course you did, he reminded you every time you found yourself in a position like this. "Uh-huh," you managed, your breath caught in your throat.

"I think you should be the one to do something about it, yeah?"

You nodded, slowly moving your hand to the fastening of his jeans. His hand gripped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "No, no, not yet. I want you to cum first. Sit on my face, princess."

You cocked an eyebrow, your hands moving back to the button of his pants. "Who said we can't do both at the same time?"

"Shit," he chuckled, lifting his hips to help you pull his boxers and pants down. You didn't think Steve's cock could get any prettier, but something about the way the natural sunlight was shining around him on that couch… it had your mouth watering. "Have I ever told you I love you?"

You maneuvered yourself higher so you could remove your own bottoms. "A couple times," you smirked, moving to hover above him.

You slowly lowered yourself onto his mouth, his tongue immediately going to work. His hands met your hips, helping you find a steady rhythm against his mouth.

His tongue lapped at your hole, and you were already feeling weak. A sigh left your parted lips as you lowered your mouth onto his cock, your lips fitting around the head like the perfect puzzle piece.

He moaned against your clit, the vibration only pushing you further toward the edge. He left kitten licks in all the places you needed them, eliciting a whine from your lips that was silenced by his cock.

Steve lifted your hips, his mouth parting from your cunt. Your body ached with need, and you nearly pouted around his cock when he removed his mouth. "I meant what I said." He paused in between sentences to kiss your core. "I want you to cum first."

"Well, cowboy," you said, traveling one of your hands down to his balls, squeezing them in the way you knew he loved. "We'll just have to see about that."

The further into your relationship you got, the more of a competition it was to make each other cum. Whether that be you making Steve cum the hardest or him making you cum more than him, the two of you seemed to have a little competition going. Not that you were complaining. He'd made you squirt three times in one night just last week. Who were you to say anything?

His tongue plunged in and out of your hole, creating the perfect pace. You moaned pornographically around his length, your hand squeezing at his heavy balls. Your hips rolled against his face, no doubt soaking the mustache he'd been growing out. This was by no means the first time he'd eaten you out with a mustache, yet somehow, the sensation got even better every time it happened.

Your hips rutted time and time again, chasing down your high. He worked his tongue in heavenly figure eights, drinking up every drop your body had to offer him. Want filled your entire body, burning in your fingertips and curling your toes. You forced the rest of his length into your mouth, coming apart as you whimpered around it. Your cunt fluttered on his tongue, Steve's hips canting in response. Nothing got Steve off quicker than you cumming on his tongue. You knew his release was right behind yours.

He worked you through your orgasm, suckling softly on your clit and holding tight to your love handles. A muffled string of moans tumbled from your lips as you fucked your mouth with his cock, your hand fondling his tight balls. With one last thrust of your mouth, he came undone, his load shooting down your throat in warm spurts. You milked his cock, swallowing down everything his body would give you.

Your spent body fell flush on top of Steve, his dick still halfway hard as you held him in your hand. His chest rose and fell underneath you as he attempted to catch his breath. "Cowgirl, you find new ways to amaze me every day."

"You're not so bad yourself, Stevie." His cock twitched at the nickname. Your fingers traced circles around his thigh, a content sigh escaping your lips. "You ready to call it a day yet, cowboy?"

"Not yet," he answered. "There's one last thing we need to do before we leave. Up."

At his instruction, you pushed yourself off the couch, tugging your shorts back up. Steve wrapped his hand around yours, stopping your motions. "Who said it had anything to do with your clothes being on?"

Heat rushed through your cheeks as he stood and, in one swift motion, had your legs wrapped around his waist. He backed you up against the wall, the bricks digging into your skin but somehow managing to only aid your senses. His lips met your neck, nipping and sucking at the pulse point. One of his arms managed to hold your body up while the other moved in between your bodies, his thumb catching your clit in a round of intoxicating circles. Your lips fell into an open 'O' as noiseless gasps and moans fell out.

"God, you're so pretty," he whispered against the shell of your ear. "Can't believe I haven't done this yet."

Your brows pinched together in both confusion and pleasure. "D-Done what?" you managed to ask, words seeming utterly impossible as he worked at your core.

"Christened this bar with you," he answered. His lips all but attacked your neck again, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. One of his digits teased your entrance, and your hips canted against it.

You let out a moan, though confusion had fully taken over your face by this point. "Christened the bar?"

He nodded, licking over a newly purple spot on your neck. "We've owned this bar for a whole two weeks and we haven't fucked in here yet."

"Is that what you call this, Harrington?" you attempted to tease, but even you knew it was a pathetic attempt. Your voice bordered on strangled as you said, "Pretty sure fucking involves having something inside me."

His finger finally made its way inside your aching hole, the breath nearly being knocked out of your lungs. "Yeah? How's that, sweetheart?"

A string of moans tumbled off your tongue, your back arching against the bricks. "Oh, Steve," you sighed, your eyes screwing shut at the pleasure.

"Hey, baby, you think you can keep those pretty eyes open for me?" he asked, his tone sweet like he wasn't actively shoving a second finger inside you as he spoke. "Need you to see the only man who can make you feel this good."

You all but pried your eyes open, meeting his lust-filled irises. His fingers pumped in and out of you at the perfect pace, and soon, you were on the edge of cumming a second time.

He flexed the digits inside you, brushing your G-spot every time they moved. You moaned his name like a record stuck on a loop, your eyes watering as your second orgasm approached. His mouth melded to yours, catching you in a sloppy make-out session as he drove his fingers even further inside you. You'd died and gone to heaven, that was the only real explanation as to how this man could make you feel so damn good.

Euphoria took over your body, his fingers working your spent hole as you tried poorly to catch your breath. A string of profanities and whimpers fell from your tongue as he removed the digits, holding them to your mouth. You licked and sucked on his fingers, hypnotized by your taste.

He met your lips with a juxtaposing soft kiss, his hands moving to hold both sides of your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Did so good, baby."

"Steve," you teased breathlessly, though it sounded more like a moan. "You still haven't properly fucked me yet."

"So greedy, princess," he teased back, lining himself up with your entrance. "Just can't get enough of me, can you?" He slowly pushed inside, and you fell limp against his chest. "You alright?" he asked, half serious and half playfully.

You managed to nod, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling from your parted lips. "Need you to help me out here, please," you all but begged.

He chuckled, meeting your forehead with a soft kiss and slowly pulling out of you. "Good girl," he cooed, gradually sliding his cock back into you. "Telling daddy what you want, yeah?"

It wasn't often that the two of you indulged in your daddy kink, but when you did, it never ceased to make you feel like the most special girl in the world. Your hips somehow found a way to pick up their pace again, rocking against Steve's at a delicious pace.

His hands helped guide you, your bodies practically fusing together as you met each other in the perfect rhythm. He twitched inside you as you pulsed around him, his lips trailing kisses along the skin that your tank top didn't cover. Your hands held tight to the hair on the nape of his neck, moans vibrating along your breasts.

His orgasm came first, his thick seed shooting inside you as he continued working you on his length. "Fuck's" and "Shit's" tumbled from his lips and his hips canted, his thumb moving to rub frenzied circles on your clit. Your climax burned through your body, eyes crossing as he abused your hole. You chanted his name like a mantra, like it was your lifeline.

Steve held you close as he lowered you down the wall, his lips meeting your forehead with a juxtaposing softness. He chuckled against the crease between your brow, "Thank god for IUDs, right?"

You let out a soft, shaky giggle as you reached for your panties. Your hands trembled, failing to get a good enough grip to pull them up.

Steve caught your struggle, giving you a playful smile and pulling your underwear and shorts back on for you. He zipped up his jeans with quickness, then held your hand and led you toward the door. His lips connected to your bare shoulder, the softness grounding you for a moment. "Let's go home, yeah?"

You wobbled back to his truck, your chest still heaving as you processed all that had just happened, his cum still deep inside you. He pulled the door open for you, a smirk settling on your lips as you eyed his ass. "You wanna know something, cowboy?"

He chuckled at your expression, knowing that tone all too well. "Yeah?"

Your hand met his ass, grabbing the curve of his jeans. "I think that is why they call it a honky-tonk badonkadonk."

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