They were moving, driving. Danny slowly transitioned from dead to the world to semi-conscious, picked up the vibration of tires, then the gentle sway of the van itself as it carried them down the road in the dark. It was chilly on the floor despite pillows, blanket and sleeping bags, in the negligible space between the front seats and their stashed gear. In maybe a 6'X5' area for the four of them, bodies sprawled over each other. Danny, being tallest, was afforded the side closest the front, and he slept head-to-foot with the next man over, Sam, whose skinny arm was thrown over his shins.
It wasn't the normal middle-of-the-night highway sounds that caught his attention. Rubber meeting the road at high speeds, wind-rush, the Doppler effect of passing other vehicles, the occasional horn. At first he couldn't figure it out, in the context of their mid-winter road trip. The disturbances sounded... wet. Had a leak developed somewhere, condensation getting in? The four of them did generate a lot of natural heat.
Then suddenly it struck him, and he knew: Those were kissing noises. Who had sneaked a girl in here? What was she planning on doing with herself in Frankenmuth, whoever she was? They didn't want or need any hangers-on. Well, speaking for himself.
Then Sam farted in his sleep and there was no smooching nor thinking for a while. The other two Kiszkas reacted first with near-silent laughter. Affronted noses led to, "Ew, gross, what did he eat that's fuckin' decomposing up there?!" Danny turned on his side to face away and buried his nose in the makeshift pillow of Jake's jacket.
Eventually, the air cleared. Danny was nearly asleep again when he heard another kiss. It had to be more... thorough this time. Less lip, more tongue. He wondered how he knew that. "Y'think Sam has herb? I swear I can smell it on him," whispered someone. Jake, he thought. Actually, Danny knew for a fact Sam did not. Because they'd smoked it after the show.
"That's just his fart. Skunky."
"Hhmph!" More wet, smacking sounds. Danny drifted again, lulled by the dark. When he resurfaced, Sam was clinging to him from behind breathing humid, slightly stale air into Danny's ponytail, which he'd never taken out after the gig. He realized that somehow he'd got turned around. Or no, Sam had. Must've been more asleep than he'd thought.
It was lighter now, but artificial light; they had to be passing Detroit. Two hours to go.
Someone gasped, then someone moaned. Danny was sure that those further sounds were the twins but why? Was this girl between them, taking on both? Of course the concept of three-way lived in the collective male psyche but the other way around. Sometimes the girls swarmed around them so thick, they could each have collected a dozen or more. Thus far, to his knowledge, they'd stuck to their small-town mores of one guy, one girl.
There it was again, just loud enough to hear, now accompanied by some rustling. Honestly, would they never stop? Macking on chicks was all good but Danny needed his rest. He'd slept through worse, louder. Not Jake's earthquake but a blizzard more than once. The cacophony of bands they'd warmed up for, when he'd been too exhausted to actually watch them and their noise was his lullaby. Something was bothering him now, not badly, but like that one whiny mosquito that wouldn't leave you alone on a warm summer evening it kept dive-bombing his consciousness. They weren't going to try to fuck in here were they? Not with Sam and Danny right there, and one of the Kiszkas' uncles up front?!
Perhaps, perhaps it was on him to call a stop to this. Yes, true, easy to get carried away, stupid and impetuous when sex was involved. If they knew Danny was awake, they might stop before he was forced to listen to his bandmate - or bandmates - get laid.
In slow, deliberate movements, he stretched, yawned, wiggled around till he was braced on his other side. The blankets he'd been laying on shifted and Danny did what he could to flatten them, only now Sam was wrapped around him from the front, which was decidedly awkward. Between the body warmth and whatever phase of REM he was in, the bassist was limp dead weight, except for the piece of wood poking Danny's thigh, how embarrassing! Even worse, his body didn't seem to care that the body pressed against him was male, developing a similar involuntary reaction. As in, erection. Christ, crossing pork swords. It wasn't like this sort of thing hadn't happened before but Danny wasn't quite as forthright as the others: he couldn't laugh over sleep-induced boners in company. For Sam's sake as well as his own, Danny hoped his friend remained unconscious through it.
But he was also curious. This woman had to be as hot as hell and totally naked. He just wanted a glimpse. Under the pretense of finding a better blanket to cover himself, he raised his head slightly, eyes slitted.
Wait, where was the girl? He couldn't see anyone unfamiliar. There was Jake's tangles of hair flung around behind him and Josh's curly wreath beyond. Was she under their wad of blankets? How inconvenient. From his angle, with the twins' faces so close together, it almost seemed like...
No. That couldn't be right. Weed didn't make a person hallucinate, did it? Danny raised his head a little more, opened his eyelids a squinch further. An idea began to form but he pushed it away. Or he would have if Sam didn't - with a level of consciousness of zero - decide to push against him just then. Like, thrust. Like fucking. Like, what the hell was going on?
The question was, did he want to know. He had to. Whatever he was dealing with, he needed the truth. Last time trying to spot this chick under each pass of highway lights through tinted windows. No one. No additional body, no room. His eyes roved down, taking in Jake's bare arm and shoulder, Josh's decidedly erect nipple as his arm snaked down under their covers. They drew in breaths and their lips met. Kiszka lips, perfectly formed, curvy, mobile, one set that sometimes opened as wide as Danny's fist to let out the sound that made them famous, the other set much more circumspect - and sly - to bring their message to the world. He could see flashes of their straight white teeth and their tongues, too...
Oh, god! Brothers, twin brothers, making out with each other like... boyfriends. Ew!! It was a sin! But it was hot! And wrong! And sexy as fuck! Sweat broke out on Danny, despite the cold. Below, it felt like a piece of white-hot rebar was sticking out of him, which wasn't going to go down any time soon. Jake moaned - moaned! - and tossed his head back, only for a second as their lips fell across the other's again, sealing their breath.
Sinuous movements over there not three feet away, very slight. What would they do, Danny wondered. Were they stroking each other off under there, or what? His brain made one last-ditch effort to divine a female person between them to blow one, then the other. And Sam, did he have some psychic tie even in his apparent coma because it was becoming clear that him rubbing off against Danny's available angles in the same cadence was about to happen.
He could put a stop to it just by moving. Sitting up. Speaking. He didn't. Danny lay there and watched as much as he could. He was trapped by their cosmic gravitation, bound to it himself. Jake's movements became a little more pronounced, from the way he was controlling the kiss to his tiny hips rolling, rhythmic. Josh, who turned onto his side after some time, had his eyes closed, lips when not joined with his brother's a snarl of explicit demand. There was nowhere to go, in reference to Sam's continued humping Danny's crotch, he was already against the bases of the front seats.
Hot breath against his neck. Then lips. What the fuck? Sam's body tensed. The little fucker, he wasn't sleeping at all, was he? Lucky for Danny, they were pulling onto an off-ramp. He could wait till they stopped, he could wait, he could wait...
Three minutes later he schlepped into the Men's, into the nearest stall, for the fastest wank in history. One, two, explode. He didn't even try to keep his groaning down, he was the only one in there.
Reality hit him. Man, he should quit. Was this the real reason behind Kyle...? More importantly, was this what rock'n'roll had come to, here at the end of the twenty-teens? It wasn't like he was homophobic, he'd seen and done some things that would have been hell-worthy a couple of decades ago, back before he was born. But... brothers? Still feeling the aftershocks, he wiped off his hand on a piece of one-ply toilet paper and got the fuck out of there.
And then what? Back to the van full of Kiszka stench, sweat and spit and Sam's jizz (in his pants) and their smirks and knowing looks. Sometimes he really felt like he was the youngest.
He couldn't avoid it more than two days, till the next rehearsal. How to say - what to say - Danny drew a ginormous blank. He arrived a little early, finding Sam behind his Hammond. Thank god it was just him, Danny thought. Seeing one of them at a time was more than enough.
Sooner rather than later, he plowed into the pink elephant in the room. "Your brothers... in the van. They were..." The words caught in Danny's throat.
"Were what?" Casual as anything, Sam. Oh. Okay. He knew. Why the fuck, thought Danny, did his friend have to wear his shirt open enough to show one or the other little brown nipple, his navel and that thread of hairs just barely visible below, in the winter? And why was he noticing? Sam got up and walked around a bit, then picked up his bass.
Danny was still at a loss for words. "So. They're fucking," he stated bluntly.
Sam shrugged and sat down again. He was chewing on a piece of gum open-mouthed, the malleable mass flying to the left, then the right, as if stemming his usual wordiness. His eyes widened slightly as he looked up, the pupils dilated. "And?" Shit, Danny realized. Not just knew. The mint green body of Sam's bass hid any... interest.
"It doesn't bother you?" he had to ask.
"Nope. BTW, you'll notice that I only agreed with you there - you'd already figured it out. But it's one thing we can never make public, you know."
Danny shook his head, for lack of any other response.
"Hey, don't worry about it. If it bothers you, say something to the group and that will be that."
"You won't fire me?"
Sam snorted. "Not! Besides, Jake likes a challenge." He raised one of those perfect eyebrows, which Danny secretly suspected Sam waxed.
"Dude. You got a hard-on rather than hit me in the face the other night."
"What was I supposed to do, jump out of a moving vehicle?"
Sam laughed. "You have a point. Anyway, whatever. If you're not into it, just say so."
Danny wasn't saying. He had never been so confused in his life. Man, he needed to do something about all this... tension. Picking up a pair of sticks, he sat behind his kit and started playing around. In a couple minutes, Sam turned up his amp. They wrote a new thing, about the day Danny joined Greta Van Fleet for real. All the way.