Chapter Text
The light is yellow against his eyelids. Not the same yellow as the soft, peaceful lamplight, but still warm and inviting. The light must be touching the rest of his skin too, because he feels the heat of it paint his back and lull him into a peaceful half-doze. Not a bad way to wake up.
Slowly, he feels the darkness of sleep relinquish him and let his mind surface. It begins to form thoughts, abstract and slow. He registers the warmth and softness of the sheets against him, the comforting weight of his chest on the mattress. The way his arms coil loosely around a pillow. He breathes a deep inhale and feels the coolness of the air touch his lungs and wake his tired mind. Then he opens his eyes.
The curtains are open and sunlight filters through, lighting the room with its brilliant beauty. It bathes him in gold and cradles his body in its warm cocoon, so he closes his eyes and lets his mind absorb this feeling. He could easily fall back into the warm embrace of sleep and drift in the peace of unconsciousness for awhile longer.
But then he remembers.
Danny’s eyes snap open and his hand gropes the sheets. He is only met with the coolness and blankness of the bed beside him. There’s nobody there. Just the whisper of the memories and the faint drift of his scent on the sheets.
He casts a glance around the room. It’s a blank hotel, just like every hotel he has ever stayed in, and his tired mind can’t discern which stop on the road this is. He can’t remember the city or the day of the week. Beige walls with impersonal art pieces look down on him, and the pillow smells like the same mass-produced laundry detergent that every hotel uses.
His heart settles, heavy inside him as he realizes he is back to real life. A hotel room that’ll fade into his memory; just a place to sleep amid the turmoil and chaos of his daily life. He must’ve had some crazy, vivid dream, because the smell of him was fleeting and might have been his imagination to begin with. A parting goodbye from an incredible dream.
No. He presses his face into the pillow, hoping that sleep will take him again. That he can chase the visceral details of his wet dream away before he has to board the bus and act like the Kiszkas are his brothers again. He can’t sit beside Jake on the bus while his head stirs with the dream of his dick inside him. And the image of all those faces he’d made. The sounds…
A sound sharply breaks the swirls of anxiety in Danny’s head. A door opening. Someone is in the room with him.
He lifts his head and squints against the light, scarcely daring to hope.
Jake. He has only emerged from the bathroom to stoop and fetch something from his perpetually packed luggage. But Danny takes in the sight of him, his giddy mind latching onto every detail. He’s there. He is really there, and last night wasn’t a dream.
He is dripping, his hair hanging, clumped in wavy tendrils. Droplets of water chase down his tanned back and disappear, absorbed into the crisp whiteness of the towel he wears around his waist. There’s the tiniest rise of pudge where the towel presses into his sides, and Danny finds himself aching with fondness and desire. He wants to kiss them; those sweet, soft places where his waist widens into his hips. He wants to grab him there and pull him close for a morning kiss.
But he just watches. Takes in the image of him in his morning routine. Even in his domestic habits, he is still the most beautiful creature Danny has ever beheld.
Jake pushes his soaked hair behind his ears so he can see what he’s doing while he stoops. His delicate, rounded ears peek free. Even those are perfect.
Danny smiles. He has never felt affection for someone this deeply, to the point where their every feature strikes him with their beauty. He scans every part of him, taking him in.
Jake has found what he’d been looking for: his toothbrush which he keeps in its hard plastic case. His nimble fingers are careful to open it, silencing the pop it makes when it opens. So he must think Danny is still sleeping. Which makes his actions all the more endearing, since these are the habits of a man who thinks he is unobserved.
He places the bristled end inside one cheek, holding it there so his hands can continue their search, and his knees bend so he can sink into a crouch on his heels. His stomach wrinkles with his craning slouch. And then he looks up.
Danny smiles as his eyes connect with Jake’s, “Morning, Darling.”
Jake smiles back, the handle of his toothbrush lolling from the corner of his perfect lips. His perfect eyes crinkle. His mustache is wet, but perfectly neat. His perfect nose leans in the slightest crooked slant. The glint of perfect white teeth show behind his lips. “Morning.” His voice carries the warmth of fondness, but also the clumsy syllables of occupied lips.
“You look so beautiful like that,” He scans down the length of him.
Jake makes a face and gestures to himself, silently saying I look like Gollum right now. He giggles softly, clearly assuming that Danny is kidding.
But he’s not. He feels the glow of endearment as Jake continues pawing through his things, then makes a muffled aha sound when he finds his toothpaste. How can one man possess such a vast range of traits? How can this wet Gollum creature be simultaneously adorable and endearing, but just hours before had been sexy and sweet, dominating, powerful, and a little bit frightening? He is so multifaceted, and impossibly attractive right now.
Jake retrieves his toothbrush from his mouth long enough to squish some toothpaste onto its bristles. Then it is lost between his lips again and he begins to brush.
So fucking beautiful.
Jake stands, flashes foamy teeth in a smile, and retreats to the bathroom.
Danny collapses back on the bed. So it’s real. The whole night hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. The urge to stifle the memories is replaced by the intense need to cement each moment in his head. He wants to imbed every second of their wild adventure in his brain and keep them there always. So he sifts through every touch. Every single word they’d shared and every breathless moan. He lets his mind revel in the details and steep him in the steamy warmth of his memories.
There’s a sound coming from the bathroom and Danny listens, enraptured. He can hear the scrubbing sounds while he brushes, but there’s also the distracted tones of his voice, meandering through the rough outline of a tune. He’s humming. He might not even realize he’s doing it. But Danny grins, recognizing Jake’s rendition of a very familiar song: Light my Love.
How fitting.
His vocal cords are an identical copy of Josh’s, and yet his voice sounds so different. He’d never developed the range or the stylistic embellishments that his twin had mastered. There is none of the growling or the high, piercing tones. Just a low, smooth melody. When his voice takes it and shapes the notes, it seems to take on a new meaning altogether. A quieter, more peaceful one.
Danny’s mind inserts the words while he hums, building this puzzle alongside him. Your mind is a stream of colors extending beyond our sky. A land of infinite wonders a billion lightyears from here, now.
The tune is cut off rather poetically when he spits and the water from the tap roars.
Danny laughs.
“What?” Jake calls incredulously. There’s a wet sound as he sips from the tap and then spits again.
“Nothing.” Danny returns. But he can’t stop smiling. This is perfect.
Jake rounds the corner, still wet and wearing his towel. He has an eyebrow raised, a playful question: what?
“I just love you.” He is amazed at how easily the words spill free. Last night they’d tasted so new and thrilling on his tongue, but now he says them naturally, easily. Like he’s said them a hundred times before.
The eyebrow drops and his face warms in a smile.
“I can’t believe this is real.” Danny shifts his body, flipping to lie on his back. He is reminded that he’d fallen asleep before cleaning up, and the remains of their night still decorates his skin.
“I know,” Jake approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, his skin glowing gold when he steps into the sun. He shifts his hips closer and leans in close. His hand makes contact with Danny’s jaw and those perfect lips meet his with tender, gentle pressure. He tastes like mint again, and Danny’s blissful inhale against him is filled with that same musky-sweet fragrance of his shampoo. His scent toes the line between masculine and feminine, a smooth, androgynous mixture of florals and botanicals. It suits him perfectly. He is perfect. That smell brings back the memories with sharper clarity than Danny could ever muster before.
But when he pulls away, his words shatter their comfortable, peaceful morning, “I suppose we should talk about today.”
Danny’s smile falls. Oh right.
“I should talk to Josh. Do you want to tell Sam or should I?”
Danny just watches him, studying his face. The easy, casual smile in his eyes is gone. What fills them now looks like fear, boiling and swirling behind his expression. He begins to chew his lip as he falls into deep thoughts.
Danny doesn’t want to be the one to tell Sam. True, he is his best friend in the world, but he doubts he can say it as well as Jake can. And he doubts he will take it from Danny as well as he would from his older brother. But he does want some of the responsibility in this, however painful it may be, “Yeah, I’ll talk to Sam.”
“Okay.” Some of the tension seems to slip out of him. Half of his heavy load falls off. But he is still staring at the wall. No, he’s staring past it, his eyes glazing over with his deep thundering thoughts.
Danny touches him. Not on that soft curve of hip that he so desperately wants to touch, but on his arm. He wraps his fingers around his wrist, bringing Jake’s hand against his lips, “It’ll be okay. They love you so much. They’ll understand.”
Jake’s eyes flick to meet Danny’s, “Yeah. I just don’t know for sure what they’ll say.”
“I know.” He gives an encouraging smile. He shares Jake’s anxiety, but he doesn’t tell him what his own thoughts are. He has played this scenario over and over in his head, and it always ends the same way. Sure, Danny might be overestimating things, but he can’t shake the worry that this is the beginning of the end.
He is the outsider. He has tried his damndest not to feel it all these years; the others have always included him in everything and he has no reason to feel estranged. Yet here he is. Outside all the same. The one who might bring the distrust and drive a rift between the Kiszkas. This love might work for a fleeting moment, but it might also bring the destruction of the band; Jake’s only dream.
And then even Jake will hate him.