Work Text:
Nace doesn't think he has ever hated a morning alarm more. He thinks about snoozing it; maybe if he had a few more minutes he could return to his dream and Jan would– no. He mentally scolds himself for entertaining the thought. He doesn't need to be picturing his friend like that. He shouldn't be.
With a groan he reaches over and swipes his phone screen to mute the incessant sound. Nace rubs his eyes as if that would physically erase the images of his dream from his mind. Though a small, but very vocal, part of his mind wants to treasure those visuals forever.
It isn't the first time that he's had a dream involving the band; he can vividly recall the dream he had where Bojan had decided they needed to perform every one of their songs in a different language the day before a concert. He had to stop dream Kris from attempting to murder Bojan right then and there.
It’s not the first dream he's ever had about the guitarist in particular either. Jan is a presence in his dreams more than he'd like to admit. Only a couple nights ago he had dreamt about kissing the guitarist after the end of A Sem Ti Povedal as both his bandmates and the crowd cheered. And it wasn't like he had never fantasised about the guitarist either; the first time Nace ever saw Jan wear that mesh top he had to take a minute to compose himself.
But this dream. He hadn’t known that Jan in a too short plaid skirt would be such a turn on. Especially bent over in skimpy lace underwear. Fuck.
He's glad that he lives alone. It means there's no one to call him out when he takes an unusually long shower, images of the guitarist on his knees running through his mind.
When he arrives at the studio, he is met with a bickering Kris and Bojan on the other side of the perfectly functioning door . Leave it to dream Nace to fuck up something as simple as a door he thinks to himself. Kris and Bojan turn to him as soon as he enters.
"Hey Nace" says Kris, a warm smile on his face.
Bojan interrupts before he can say a greeting in return.
"Nace! Is a hotdog a sandwich?"
What.
"Uhh, what?"
"Kris says it isn't, but it's technically just meat between two pieces of bread so wouldn't that make it a sandwich?"
"You call it a hotdog whether it's in-between bread or not" Kris says in a very matter-of-fact tone.
Nace is saved from having to answer by the door suddenly swinging open behind him.
"Good morning–"
Jure almost falls over from the motion of swinging the door open so hard. Nace manages to reach out and steady him before Jure can wipe out on the carpet.
"Jure, is a hotdog a sandwich?" Bojan impatiently asks. Kris rolls his eyes but looks at Jure expectantly.
"I mean it is between bread"
"See" Bojan sticks his tongue out at Kris who retaliates by knocking the pink cowboy hat that Bojan has decided to wear off his head.
Nace simply shakes his head at their antics with a laugh.
It's not until about 40 minutes pass that they all hear the door creak open again.
“Janči!” Bojan cheerfully exclaims.
Nace resists the urge to immediately turn and look at Jan. In an attempt not to look like a teenager with a crush, he reaches over for his water bottle, taking a sip as he turns his head with feigned nonchalance.
It turns out to be a bad idea as Nace catches a glimpse of Jan’s face and plaid before inhaling his water, flashes of his dream coming back into his mind. He promptly starts coughing. So much for not making a fool out of himself.
“Are you okay Nace?” Bojan asks, concerned.
“I-I’m fine,” Nace stutters out between coughs.
Kris simply frowns at him from across the room.
“Jan you’ve been here for 10 seconds, and you’ve already killed Nace!” Jure giggles.
When Nace manages to stop coughing he looks over at Jan and immediately feels like an idiot. Jan is wearing a plaid shirt tied around his waist over black jeans. A white tee replaces the offensive cat.
“Sorry Nacko,” Jan smiles at him unapologetically.
Nace can feel himself breaking into a grin.
Okay, so he’s not wearing a skirt. That’s good. Nace can concentrate on rehearsal.
Except that whenever Jan moves the fabric of the plaid shirt reminds him of that goddamn skirt and he absolutely does not need to be thinking of that right now. He tries to avoid looking at Jan but it's practically muscle memory at this point.
He manages to keep his mind focused on the music for a bit and not how much he would like to have Jan’s bare thighs in his lap. When Nace risks another glance, he swears it looks like the guitarist is pouting, but then his lips quirk up in a smirk.
Nace can only watch in horror as Jan comes closer to his side, standing as close as he comfortably can with both their instruments. No matter how much he looks away, he can see the guitarist’s every movement out of the corner of his eye. When the song finishes Jan suddenly reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Nace’s chest.
Nace freezes, clutching his bass tightly as Jan’s fingers run down his chest before seemingly brushing something off the fabric.
Jan shrugs, “You had something on your shirt”. He shoots a coy smile at Nace.
Jan Peteh is trying to kill him is all Nace can think through the next song. He can feel Jan's dark gaze burning into the side of his already warm face. He feels much like prey caught in a trap, waiting for something, or some one, to land the killing blow.
Jan moves forward to rub the side of his face up Nace's arm, the scratchiness of his beard prickling his skin. He leans in close and Nace can smell the scent of his shampoo mixed with cigarettes. It's somehow intoxicating. Jan blows hot air against the side of Nace’s neck causing him to shudder. With a shaky exhale he watches, hypnotised, as Jan pulls away with a signature smirk.
Kris gives him a suspicious look from across the room and Nace wishes he could hide his flushing face. He’s grateful when Kris calls for a break, though he really could do without the side-eye.
Nace holds his bass awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with himself, other than hope Jan gives his rapidly beating heart a break. However, the guitarist seems to have no intention of doing so, and picks up his water bottle, making eye contact with Nace as he swallows.
Nace watches the way his throat moves, Jan’s tongue swiping across his lips when he’s done. His mind instantly floods with visuals from his dream: Jan licking his lips to moisten them as he sits between his bare legs. He wonders what Jan would look like swallowing around him.
His breath comes out in heavy uneven puffs, and his jeans are really starting to feel uncomfortable now. With sweaty fingers he pulls his bass guitar as close as he can against himself and hopes his bandmates don’t notice the state he's in.
“Are you okay Nace? You’re awfully quiet.” Jan says, blinking at him with an innocent expression. Nace frantically looks to his bandmates for help, but they’re all crowded around Jure’s phone as he shows them some video.
“I’m fine,” he stammers out and forces a smile in a desperate attempt to appear calm.
“You look pretty hot; do you want water? You can have some of mine if you’d like?” The words roll off Jan's tongue in a smooth low voice as he takes a step even closer to Nace.
Nace’s mouth is feeling pretty dry, and he doesn’t dare risk bending over to get his, so he nods dumbly.
Instead of simply handing him the bottle, Jan gently holds the bottle to Nace’s lips, tilting it into his mouth. Nace swallows, mentally applauding himself for not embarrassing himself further by choking for the second time today.
"Good boy," Jan purrs as he pulls the bottle away.
Clearly, he applauded himself too early Nace thinks as he chokes back a whimper at Jan's words.
“Jan come look at this!” They both jump slightly and turn to see Jure waving his phone with what looks like a video of capybaras playing on the screen. Jan’s expression shifts into slight annoyance, but he abandons Nace anyway to go see what Jure wants to show him.
Nace pulls his phone out of his pocket and pretends to be preoccupied with it, ignoring the questioning stares Kris sends his way. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, tugging uselessly at his jeans. What has gotten into Jan today?
The rest of rehearsal is pure torture, Jan continues to stand close to him biting his lips a tantalizing red. At one point he runs his hands through his hair giving it a slight tug. Nace wonders if Jan enjoys having his hair pulled. Would Jan like it if Nace desperately pulled at his thick dark hair while his red lips were wrapped around him, leaving Nace completely at his mercy?
It's getting to be too much and Nace doesn't know how much more he can take. He sighs in relief when they finally finish. He wants nothing more than to run out of there and go home.
Except, for the fact that he can’t exactly move his guitar without revealing what exactly Jan’s antics have been doing to him. When they’re distracted enough, he’s quick to turn his back, putting his guitar back in its place and using his jacket to cover his front.
It's Bojan that ruins everything.
“It kind of looks like Jan is wearing a skirt.”
Nace freezes in place. At this point he'd like nothing more than to melt into a sweaty pile on the floor. They all turn to look at Jan who laughs and tugs the flannel at his waist.
“You think I could pull one off?”
“Definitely,” Bojan’s smile is genuine, like he thinks his friend could look good in anything. It makes Nace both want to smile, and to scream at him for bringing up the idea. Jure and Kris nod their agreement and then Jan looks to Nace. He raises an eyebrow as if daring him to disagree.
“I think you would look good.” Nace finds himself saying. It’s the understatement of the century but Nace doesn’t risk saying anything more incriminating.
“Maybe on stage one day,” and then he winks at Nace as the others laugh. Jan fucking Peteh. Nace wants him so bad.
It’s later in the evening and Nace is aimlessly scrolling twitter when he suddenly receives a notification that Jan has sent something to the group chat. It’s quickly followed up by a notification from the chronically online Bojan, responding with a fire emoji. Nace curiously taps the notification to bring up the chat, and what he sees almost makes him drop his phone.
It’s a mirror selfie of Jan in his room, Igor is lounging on the bed in the background, but that’s not what’s making Nace lose his mind, no. The phone in his hand is covering his face, but if his face was visible, Nace is sure he would see a smirk. The guitarist is wearing a skirt . It’s not exactly like his dream but it's black and pleated, ends mid-thigh and shows plenty of Jan's slender bare legs.
Without even thinking, Nace is saving the image to his phone. Another notification pops up at the top of the screen. A second image from Jan but sent just to him this time. He takes a deep breath and tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever torture Jan has in store for him now. But nothing could possibly ready him for the image that follows.
Jan stands in front of the mirror, one hand still holding the phone and covering his face. His other hand pulls the top of the skirt down just enough to reveal a thin sparkly strip of fabric peeking out.
Fuck.