Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

Bet on a Chance // Sam & Danny

Somewhere along the way though, they'd shared a slightly inebriated kiss--privately--and that was that.

Even though he was overheating with Sam's right leg draped over his lap, a blanket over the two of them and the fire at his shins, Danny felt like he was pretty much in paradise. They all needed this trip, deserved this trip, and he was always content--probably a little more than the others, except for maybe Jake--to just be with the three of them, the Kiszkas. Blood or not, Danny knew he was a brother of sorts, and he couldn't imagine a night much better than one that involved a secluded cabin with his family, a roaring bonfire courtesy of Josh, cold drinks, roasted marshmallows, a sky full of stars and Sam right next to him.

However, Danny wasn't so sure he could appreciate the hand that reached under the blanket and squeezed his inner thigh, at least not in that context. He jumped a little, thankfully not enough for the twins to notice, and glanced over at Sam, who was seemingly paying him no mind. No--Sam was bending forward, stretching for the bag of marshmallows, which Jake nudged closer to him with his foot.

He knew he should move Sam's hand but, despite his fears, Danny also wanted to see where he was going with this. Would he really take it further with the very real possibility of getting caught?

He got his answer when Sam's hand cupped his crotch and then slender fingers unbuttoned his fly; Danny reached under the blanket and shoved his hand away, flashing a dark look of warning. No, he couldn't go any further. Not there. Not out in the open, blanket or no blanket. Sam seemed mostly unfazed, if not a little disappointed, and brought his hand back to himself, then reached into the open bag for a marshmallow.

Danny sighed and leaned in close. "Later," he whispered in Sam's ear, grabbing the marshmallows for himself.

Sam gave him a mocking sort of sneer in response, stuck his tongue out, and speared a marshmallow onto a stick.

All sufficiently buzzed underneath the obsidian sky, Josh decided to grab a sleeping bag from the cabin for himself and sleep outside, right by the fire; Jake, Danny and Sam booked it into the tent that they'd packed with them after they (really, just Jake and Danny) set it up, with the fire just close enough to warm them through the vinyl.

Immediately, Jake turned over and was snoring softly from within his navy blue sleeping bag; Sam rolled over to face Danny, pupils big and brown eyes glossy in the last few moments of the glow from the flashlight, mischief evident in the shimmering strands of gold that were strewn throughout his irises.

"No," Danny said, voice a little gruffer than he'd intended.

Sam snorted. "What?"

"I know what you're thinking."

"Do you?"

"Yes," Danny replied, watching Sam's hand travel between them to slowly pull down the zipper of his sleeping bag. He grabbed that hand, stopping any further unzipping. "Not here. Not in the tent. Jake is right there."

Sam huffed. "You said 'later.'"

"Yeah, later as in, inside the cabin, in our room," Danny told him, feeling a little impatient with Sam, which didn't happen often. "I'm not the one who decided to rough it out here." Sam only huffed again and flopped back onto the floor of the tent, his sleeping bag rustling, so Danny continued: "Is getting caught some fetish of yours that I'm not aware of? I'm sorry, Sam, I'm just not into that." Danny exhaled and laid back too, putting his arms behind his head. "It's weird."

"You're being weird. Don't be weird about it," Sam replied, swiveling to lightly kick Danny's leg. "You know about that time I got a handjob in public. In the movie theater."