Purely Based Off This Do You Think He Smacks Jakes Ass Before Going On Stage Yay Or Nay

hey i love your fics but can you put a ‘read more’ tab so that when i like them they don’t take up tons on space in my liked? just makes it a bit neater when it’s tidied up like that

yes, they should have it now! my bad I'm still figuring out how to work tumblr

HE COULD NEVER BE JOSH

whatever you do DON'T imagine him between your thighs looking at you like this

and touch tips aswell

“Alright. I’ve got an idea. Alright Turpin, do the th— do the thing. Come on old boy.”

CHRIS MOTHERFUCKING TURPIN IS SO FINE YALL DONT GET ITTTT

I too have a special interest in pirates and own a black cat. maybe I am jake kiszka. maybe we are all jake kiszka

INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA + CATHOLIC GUILT FICS GIVE ME ALL OF IT NOW

Live Danny Reaction

Inspired by real conversation

HOLYYY FREAK IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS

Thanks for tuning in to another chapter of this shit show. It keeps getting worse from here so, I’m sorry?

Pairings: Sam Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash

Warnings and tags: 18+ only please for the love of all that’s good, graphic depictions of grief, aftermath of violence, dealing with character death, shock, guilt, lots of angst, blood, drinking blood, some kissing, vampire!AU

Word count: 6k

Jake you need to come home, it’s Josh.

5:48PM…

*a constant high pitched ringing blurred everything in the background*

6:15PM…

“Sam? Sam what happened?!” Jake was yelling but Sam couldn’t hear him, he just sat immobile with his eyes fixed straight ahead. The knobs on the cabinets were digging into his back but he couldn't feel it. The only thing he could feel was how the blood dried on his hands stuck in the curls on Josh’s head as he stroked his hair back and forth, back and forth… waiting for the sun to go down.

“We need to get him to the hospital!” Jake’s frantic voice finally broke through the buzzing in Sam’s head as he tried to pry his twin’s limp form from Sam’s hold.

“No!” Sam cried out, feeling his cheeks warm up as tears started streaming down his face again. “We have to wait for Daniel. I’m waiting for Daniel-” his voice trailed off as his pupils constricted, giving him tunnel vision again. He was staring back ahead, trying to dissociate until Danny came to fix this mess.

Another hour passed and Jake had given up on trying to do anything to get Sam to release his brother’s body. He always thought with all of his professional training he would be able to remain calm in a situation like this. Josh was a clutz, he banged himself up pretty often and he always let Jake patch him up with a steady hand and a clear head. This however he never could have prepared for. Seeing his other half lie lifelessly on the floor.

Working as an emergency room nurse Jake saw his fair share of blood and it never phased him, until now. There was so much blood. All over the kitchen floor, all over Sam’s clothes, and all over Josh. He’d already emptied his stomach into the sink once, Sam not even flinching at the sound of Jake’s wrenching above him.

Now he sat at the table, his back turned away from the scene with his head slumped over in his hands. He knew they needed to call the cops, he wanted to call the cops, but he was still in shock and he feared how Sam might lash out if someone else even tried to come near them.

Josh was… dead? How could this have happened? He needed answers, but the only person who had any possible answers was in even worse shape than he was. Was Sam here when it happened? Is that why he was so out of it right now? Jake was jumping to conclusions, but what else could he do? He clearly wasn’t here.

No, he wasn’t here to protect Josh, and what was he doing instead? Hooking up with just another nobody when he should have been home.

Neither of them really registered the sun setting behind the kitchen window, nor did they realize that all of the lights had still been on until the fiery orange glow that cast shadows was replaced with the harsh artificial light above them. Any minute now Danny would be here, Sam kept telling himself that over and over again as his eyes started to feel heavy.

“Sammy?…” A hoarse but comfortingly familiar voice shattered the silence that had enveloped the house. Both Sam and Jake’s heads snapped towards the sound, watching in shared shock and subject horror as Josh’s eyes blinked slowly open.

“I’m here” Sam choked out, resuming the petting his hand had grown too tired to continue before.

Another sound startled Sam, the chair clattering against the floor as Jake stood up so quickly it knocked over. “Josh?” He called out, so incredibly confused but overwhelmingly happy at the same time that he hadn’t lost the most important person in the world to him. But how could this be happening? Josh was all but dead merely seconds ago, and now he was trying to sit up until Sam pulled him back down into his lap.

Jake wanted to run over to him and throw his arms around his shoulders, vowing to never let go again, but just as he started to take a step towards them the front door was thrown open and Danny came running inside.

“Please! Help him!” Sam finally snapped into some semblance of himself when he saw Danny’s form looming over them, immediately zeroing in on the gash on Josh’s neck.

“I’m so sorry Sam…” Danny muttered, backing away slowly to allow Jake to lower himself onto the floor in front of them in his place.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake questioned, his fingers brushing against the wound making Josh wince slightly. He hadn’t seen this before, but it was clearly the source of all the blood. It looked like his artery had been torn open yet somehow he was awake and trying to speak.

“Vam-” Josh’s voice cracked and his brows furrowed as he tried to swallow to no avail.

“What?” Jake leaned in closer, trying to get his answers.

“Vampires” Sam spoke up for him, his eyes meeting Danny’s from across the kitchen. “He was attacked by vampires”.

Of course Jake didn’t believe him, at least not at first. But as he followed Sam’s gaze and looked up at Danny who was standing at a distance, watching and waiting until they’d had a second to process, his own eyes widened.

“Is he going to be alright?” Sam questioned Danny, the two of them being the only one’s in the room who’d had extra time to understand this at all.

Danny bit his lip, carefully choosing his next words. “Yes, in a way he will be. He’s in transition”.

Sam choked out another sob and Josh with barely any energy reached up to swipe his thumb across Sam’s cheekbone.

Jake broke then, shouting “please!” to get everyone’s attention. “Will someone tell me what is going on?!”

“I know this is a lot for you to take in right now” Danny was trying to sound as calm and composed as he could, but internally he was just as panicked as Jake was. “I need you to listen to me, if Josh doesn’t drink human blood by the time the sun comes up tomorrow morning then he will die”.

“Why are you saying this?” Jake began to cry as well, so absolutely terrified of losing his brother again.

“Here”. Sam reached for Jake's hand, pulling him closer and using his support to help stand up as they traded places while holding Josh’s head up.

Jake dried his eyes on his shoulders, the only comfort he had now being Josh’s weak grasp on his pant leg. “Wait, what are you doing?” He questioned when he calmed back down a bit, watching as Sam pulled his hair into a bun at the top of his head, a determined look in his eye.

Danny quickly caught on to what Sam was intending to do and pulled him aside in an attempt to talk to him one-on-one. “I don’t think that’s a good idea” Jake still managed to overhear him saying. “He won’t have much control, and it’s not been long since the last time…”

“I don’t care”.

“Sam, I can help him find someone-”

“No” Sam abruptly shut him down. “I’m not letting my brother feed on some stranger”.

“Well then maybe we can just give him some in a glass”.

“Does it look like he can drink from a glass right now?” Sam spat out in defiance. “He can hardly hold his eyes open!”

While the two of them were arguing, Jake took it upon himself to find a solution of his own. He searched the area around him for something he could reach to help, his eyes landing on the handle of a knife left sitting out on the kitchen counter just above him. Blindly and as stealthily as he could to not jostle Josh in his lap too much he reached overhead and grasped for the knife, his fingers brushing against the cold steel before he gripped the handle and brought it down.

Just as Sam proved there was nothing Danny could say to stop him he turned back towards his brothers, the air being knocked out of his chest when he saw Jake running the blade against his wrist.

Jake wasn’t sure he really believed them, but he’d do anything to save Josh now. Anything to right his wrong. So as crimson started to pour from his cut he turned his wrist over and pressed it firmly against Josh’s bluish lips.

“Come on Josh, you need to drink it” Sam encouraged him, getting back onto his knees in front of them as he watched the blood run in a line down his chin. In an attempt to help he used his thumb to pry his lips apart, and Jake quickly replaced his wrist as Josh finally closed them back around the hot skin.

As if what little energy Jake had left was flowing from him into Josh, he lifted his arms and wrapped his hands around the wrist at his mouth, his tongue poking out to lap at the opening where blood was still flowing out.

“That should be enough” Danny instructed, still watching from a distance to see if they’d be able to handle it on their own. “Sam” he spoke louder when Josh didn’t even try to stop.

“Hey, you’re ok” Sam cooed, urging Josh to regain focus. “It’s going to be ok”.

Josh released Jake’s arm who pulled it back and accepted a towel Danny offered him to wrap tightly around his cut. He licked his lips and swallowed again, feeling the numbness in his throat subside as warmth trickled down into his stomach.

“Thank you” Josh began to regain control of his voice and muscles as he slowly sat up and wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders.

“You scared me” Sam was still shaking as he reciprocated the hug, meeting Jake's equally teary eyes.

Danny put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, helping each of the brother’s back to their feet one by one. “Come on, let's give him a chance to clean up in the shower then we’ll all talk”.

Josh nodded his head, allowing Jake to place his arm over his shoulder and walk with him towards his room and en-suite bathroom.

Sam and Danny spent the time that Josh was showering to clean up the mess in the kitchen. They ultimately decided to just throw the towels away that they’d used to soak up the pool of blood instead of attempting to get the stains out. With everything double bagged in a kitchen trash bag and then in a large black lawn bag Danny offered to take it out to the trash while Sam and Jake went upstairs to also change.

“So Danny is a vampire?” Jake asked once he’d pulled an old black t-shirt over his head, having tossed a change of clothes for Sam to borrow onto his bed. Sam didn’t respond, he didn’t want to start this talk alone but he knew Jake wasn’t going to just drop it that easily. “Seriously Sam? Just when we thought you were getting your shit together”.

“What do you want from me Jake?” Sam turned around and hissed, “Vampire or not, Danny is a great guy. This wasn’t his fault…” The last part he didn’t sound so convinced about. It was like he was also trying to make himself believe it too.

“But he knows why this happened?” Jake continued. Of course he knew there was something else Sam and Danny wasn’t telling them, Jake was too smart to not have his suspicions.

“Let’s just go back downstairs. We’ll explain everything”. And with that Sam pulled the pants on Jake had offered him, not even waiting until he’d finished buttoning them before he was already turning and making his way out the door.

Everyone regathered in the living room, having had enough of the kitchen setting even with the evidence of what had happened almost completely erased. Danny could still smell the faint remnants of blood though, and he’d been stiff as a board trying to be on his best behavior now that everyone was all looking at him for answers.

“Josh?” He began tenderly and cautiously, “do you remember what happened?”

The eyes in the room shifted to where Josh was curled up in the chair with a blanket draped around his shoulders. His hair was still dripping wet from the shower, but for once in his life he didn’t seem phased by the state he was in. “A man,” he began with a crinkle between his brows as he tried to remember every detail he could before it all went black. “Last night I got home from the bar. I couldn’t sleep so I was having a glass of wine in my office when someone knocked at the door”.

“And you let him into the house?” Sam interrupted, though it didn’t quite hit him that he was the only one who really knew the implications of inviting a stranger into your home since he’d met Danny. He and his brother’s were raised in southern hospitality. When some came knocking at your door you let them in with a smile.

“He said he was a detective” Josh used as an excuse for his ignorance - though he couldn’t have known any better. “He was dressed in a suit and he showed me a badge. Said he was investigating a missing person case and the last place they were seen was the bar so he wanted to ask me a few questions. So of course I let him in. I grabbed my glass of wine and led him into the dining room. I asked if he wanted anything to drink and left him at the table to put on some tea. When I came back we talked for a little while. I kept drinking my wine, and let me tell you I’ve had more than one glass of wine after coming home, but this one must’ve really hit me because I started to feel really light headed”.

“He must have spiked your glass with vampire blood” Danny explained. “It can have mind altering effects on humans”.

“And if you die with it in your system…” Sam started to add, but Danny squeezed his hand to quiet him. The last thing they needed was a brand new vampire with little to no impulse control knowing how the transformation process worked.

Josh had already understood what Sam was going to say though, and he realized that whoever this was, they had meant to turn him on purpose. He swallowed hard, still feeling the soreness even though his wound had magically healed already, and finished his story. “I excused myself to get my own cup of tea, and I was getting ready to cut up some lemons for it when he grabbed me from behind and bit me in the neck. Next thing I know I’m waking up on the floor and well, yeah”.

“So do you know who this was?” Jake spoke up next, looking at Danny as he avoided eye contact with Sam. “Why come here? Why us?” He used us liberally even though Josh was the only one who was hurt because Jake considered an attack on any of them was an attack on them all.

“I can’t say for sure without more information,” Danny answered straight, watching as Jake huffed and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “But, I don’t think Josh was the one he was after. I think it was supposed to be Sam”.

Jake finally looked up and met his youngest brother's gaze, his eyes wild with hearing that after what had already happened they were still in potential danger. He didn’t care about details anymore, he just wanted to protect his family. “So what do we do?”

“You two should be safe here now, just don’t let anyone else who you don’t know into the house. And do you have a basement?”

Jake nodded his head, opening a mental tab to take notes on Danny’s instructions.

“Josh should set up a room down there, no sunlight can get in”. Danny turned to speak to Josh directly now, making sure he understood the living conditions he’d have to abide by from now on. “You won’t burst into flames but it’ll burn, like hell”. He waited for him to nod as well, then continued with Jake who was the most alert out of the bunch. “Make sure he goes down before the sun comes up, and if the door has a lock, lock him in there. It will take some time for his mind to get used to the new sleep cycle and if he wakes up during the day he can get confused. It’s for his safety and your own”.

“I will” Jake assured him, but Josh quickly voiced his own opinion on the matter.

“Jake! You have to work! You can’t be here taking care of me. And what about the bar? Who’s going to open for lunch? Terry can’t handle it by himself every day!”

“I’ll call in the morning and tell them I need to take the week off” Jake replied without hesitation. “It’ll be fine, I know a few people who have been looking to pick up some hours anyway. This is where I should be”.

“And I’ll keep an eye on the bar for the time being” Sam chimed in. “Terry and I can take turns opening. And Danny can help me close up until we get all of this figured out”.

“I’ll be able to go back to work right?” Josh looked like he could tear up as he looked at Danny for support, but he wasn’t sure he was even capable of something as simple and human as crying anymore. “I mean, at night right?”

“Eventually, but it would be best to take a few days to adjust. You’ll feel ill for a while until your body accepts the transformation, and then you’ll be hungry…”

If Josh didn’t already look frightened, he really did now. How was he supposed to just ‘adjust’ to needing to drink blood to stay alive? If he could even call what he was now alive at all. He already felt it, like his stomach was full of bile that needed to be expelled but he didn’t want to throw up now, not in front of everyone so they could worry about him even more.

Jake stood and placed his hand on Josh’s blanketed shoulder, the same one that was now bandaged up at the wrist. “I’ll take care of it. I can run by the hospital and take a couple of blood bags. We go through them all the time no one will notice if a few are missing”.

“So it’s settled then. The two of you stay here, lay low, and we’ll check in every day. Sam’s staying with me, it’s the safest place for him to be right now”.

It wasn’t ideal. None of it was. And there were still so many unanswered questions no one had the energy to continue to debate it right now. Even if they spent all night talking about it, nothing would change. Josh was a vampire. The only thing they could do now was accept it and try to move on, together.

“Fucking hell. This shit is harder than it looks” Sam grumbled to himself as he entered in the bar tickets for the fourth time, having had to start over every time he messed it up since he didn’t know how to stop in the middle to fix it. He squinted again at a receipt smudged with the rim of a glass, trying to decipher the tip amount so he didn’t accidentally over or under charge anyone.

“That’s an eight, not a three” Diane pointed a pink manicured nail to the first digit scribbled on the tip line. She’d finished her closing duties nearly an hour ago, so she had just been hanging around watching Sam struggle with a smug grin on her face before she decided to actually get up and help him.

“Right, thanks” Sam tried to act truly grateful, even though all she’d done all night was try to make this job ten times harder for him. What was her deal with him? She had gotten ten times worse recently.

“Where’s Josh anyway? Haven’t seen him in a few days?” She asked, her tone switching to sounding sincere. Contrary to her never ending competition with Sam, she quite liked Josh… and she needed this job so if something was wrong she wanted to know if it was time to jump ship before it sank.

“He’s not been feeling well. Took the week off to recover but he should be back soon”. It had been three days since Sam found Josh laying in a puddle of his own blood, having been turned into a vampire against his will by some unknown enemy that may or may not still be after them. None of that was any of Diane’s business though, so he stuck to the same cover story he’d been using on everyone else who asked where their beloved ball of sunshine was. Hopefully Josh would retain his jovial attitude in his return, otherwise his favorite customers would easily be able to detect something was off with him.

“Are you ready?” Danny came up from behind Sam, Diane’s eye falling on his hand that came to rest on Sam’s hip before she rolled them and left to gather up her jacket and bag.

“I think I’m almost done” Sam replied, tidying up the stack of receipts and paper clipping them together to put into the folder in Josh’s office along with the cash bag in the safe. “Hey, do you think we can stop by and see them for a bit? Terry is opening tomorrow so I have a few hours to spare”.

“Of course, I’m sure Josh would like an update on things here anyway”. Danny had been continuing fixing up everything on their list even while Josh was stuck at home. He needed to keep an eye on Sam anyway, so there was no better place for him to be.

With everything locked up they headed to his brothers’ house, Sam growing more and more quiet the closer they got to the neighborhood until he was parked outside and staring at the lights shining through the windows. They were home. Of course they were, where else would they be?

“He’s going to be happy to see you” Danny tried to read Sam’s thoughts based off of his facial expressions, or lack thereof. Sam wasn’t worried about that though, Josh loved him to death - and after, he knew that hadn’t changed. What did worry him was seeing his brother in this state. He knew Josh had transformed but how much of him had changed? He needed to find out sooner or later.

When they made their way to the door, Sam took the lead and knocked, his fists clenching and relaxing over and over again at his sides as he waited for one of them to answer the door. It was Jake who ultimately cracked it open and stuck his head out, cautious of who could possibly be visiting at this hour.

“Sam?” He answered, though he didn’t pull the door open any wider.

“Hey, can we come in for a bit?” Sam asked, his eyes already trying to look past Jake to see if Josh was nearby.

Jake nibbled on the bottom of his lip for a moment. He looked like he was about to try and find an excuse to tell them no, but after a moment he sighed and stepped aside. “Yeah, come in”.

What’s his deal? Sam wondered as he crossed the threshold first, thinking it odd that Jake was wearing a sweater when it was hot enough to make his hair stick to his forehead. “Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” Jake acted like he didn’t know why Sam was asking that. He closed the door behind Danny and adjusted the ends of his sleeves down around his palms before taking them both to the living room where Josh was.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were stopping by!” Contradictory to Jake’s weirdness, Josh looked excited to see them as he jumped up from the chair and pulled Sam into a tight hug.

“Yeah, we decided to come see you” Sam wrapped his arms around Josh’s too but he had to tap on his back to get him to loosen his grip. “Ouch Josh, you’re squeezing me like a gorilla”.

“Right, sorry seems I don’t know my own strength anymore” Josh pulled back, flashing him a toothy smile.

“It’ll get easier to regulate yourself” Danny said as he too got a hug from Josh.

Maybe nothing really had changed… Sam thought to himself as he watched the two of them hug and laugh as Danny filled him in on where they were with the repairs. He started to feel less worried, at least that was until he looked over at Jake again who was reaching over to clean up a dirty plate from the coffee table and caught a glimpse of something on his wrist.

Sam followed him into the kitchen, the other two hardly even noticing they had left the room. When Jake dumped the scraps into the trash and left the plate in the sink Sam caught his arm and pulled up his sleeve before Jake could shove him off. “Sam! Don’t!” He shouted, alerting Danny and Josh who both found their way to them in just a few seconds.

“What the hell is this?” Sam exposed a unique looking pair of puncture marks on Jake’s wrist, ones that matched a still healing wound he himself had on his inner thigh.

“It’s exactly what it looks like” Jake snatched his arm away and pulled his sleeve back down to cover it again, though in the harsh pull of the material it exposed another bite on his collar.

“Jesus Jake, another?!” Sam pointed at his neck and Jake tried to hide that one too with his hand. “You’ve been letting him feed off of you?”

“And! What else was I supposed to do? Just let him suffer?” Jake spat back in defense.

“No! But it's dangerous! Why didn’t you call us?”

“Because I have everything under control. We’re fine Sam, you see? So why don’t you two just leave already!”

“Jake-” Josh tried to speak, but he himself felt just as guilty about putting Jake in danger. He’d just been so thirsty, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt anyone. So when Jake kept insisting he didn’t know what else to do.

“Come on, give them a break. Jake looks fine”. Danny tried to calm his boyfriend but Sam only slapped his hand away and ran out of the house. “Are you ok?” He stayed behind to ask Jake.

“I’m fine” Jake bit out. He knew how much blood loss a body could withstand, and Josh hadn’t gotten anywhere close to actually harming him. He was just taking care of what he needed to.

“And you?” Danny asked Josh next, who didn’t respond in time. “I’ll come over tomorrow night and teach you how to feed safely. Just please try to stay in control until then”. Josh’s face scrunched into frustration and he stormed away, Jake following closely behind leaving Danny to go chase after Sam himself.

“I can’t believe him!” Sam fumed as he sped towards Danny’s house. “What if something had happened? How does he think Josh would be able to live with himself if he hurt him?”

“It’s my fault” Danny tried to shift the blame so Sam wouldn’t be mad at his brothers. “I should’ve known the blood bags wouldn’t last long. New vampires always go through more than they need”.

“See!” Sam only continued to get more and more mad. “Jake thinks he can handle this, but what if Josh loses control? What then?”

“This is actually a pretty good thing, if Josh is drinking from the vein instead of a cup then that means he’s handling his transition really well. The bites looked even, his fangs must’ve come in all the way by now. It’s time to teach him to start hunting”.

Sam’s grip tightened on his steering wheel as he pulled up to Danny’s house and he threw the car in park before turning to Danny with a scowl on his face. “I need you to have my back on this Daniel. You don’t know them like I do, this isn’t a good thing”.

“I do,” Danny sighed, once again feeling guilty for not knowing how to help them the right way. He’d never done this before, having refused over the years to turn anyone despite the few that had asked him to. “I’ll say something to him tomorrow, is that alright?”

“Yes” Sam exhaled as well, letting his hands fall off the steering wheel into his lap.

“I’m sorry you’re upset” Danny reached over and tucked some of the loose ends from his bun around his ear. “How can I make it up to you?”

“I just want to go to bed” Sam answered, popping his door open and stepping outside, not even waiting for Danny to follow him as he marched over to the side of the house and stood outside the cellar doors until Danny joined him and unlocked the padlock around the handles.

Danny let Sam enter first, making a solo trip into the house to check on a few things, and also give him a little bit of space to cool off. When he made his own way down into the room Sam was already in bed, his hair let down and his back turned away from the door with the blanket pulled up high around his shoulder. He crawled in next to him slowly in case Sam was already asleep, pausing to brush his fingers against the top of his back just so he could feel the way his body moved with each deep breath.

Though he had dozed off waiting for Danny to come down, Sam rustled first then rolled over. With sleep still trying to pull him under, Sam blinked up at the faint outline of Danny’s form covered in a soft glow from the night lights. One hand reached forward and his palm slid against Danny’s jaw who leaned his head into the touch and closed his eyes. Sam pulled him closer, connecting their mouths as Danny came to lay down next to him.

“I’m sorry” Danny apologized again, his voice a quiet tickle against Sam’s lips.

Sam knew he should probably say something, tell Danny it was alright to ease a little bit of his guilt, but what could he possibly say that would make all of this alright? He had willingly put himself in harm’s way when leaving with Danny the night they met, but he hadn’t expected his brother’s would also suffer the consequences of that rash decision. Maybe guilt is what they needed to feel, guilt for rushing into this relationship without thought to who else could get hurt along the way.

For tonight though, Sam didn’t want to feel guilty anymore. He’d felt guilty most of his life for things that were ultimately out of his control. He has thought that with Danny at least, he was finally in some sort of control. If gambling with his life was any way to gain jurisdiction over fate.

Not wanting to think about blame or guilt anymore, Sam pressed his lips against Danny’s again. Danny kissed him back, not knowing how Sam had gotten over his anger so easily but unwilling to stop and question it as he slid his arm between Sam and the mattress and held him closer. Sam parted his lips, deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue that Danny responded to by allowing him inside.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other until Sam needed a break to catch his breath. Danny could feel him pressed up against his thigh hard and hot but he didn’t make a move, allowing Sam to call all of the shots tonight. Although Sam had initiated the make out, there was something different about the way he clung to Danny. The way his eyes looked distant and unfocused. Danny chalked it up to all the stress he was under, but a little voice in the back of his head warned him that wasn’t the extent of it. Whatever it was that had Sam acting this way, it frightened him.

“Good night Daniel” Sam whispered, loosening his grip and rolling back over into his sleeping position without another word.

There were still a few hours until dawn, so Danny watched Sam’s back waiting for his breaths to even out again before he sat up and raked his fingers through his curls with a sigh. He could go back upstairs for a while. Take out his frustration on one of the many unfinished projects he had up there, but even in his sleep he didn’t want to leave Sam down here alone. His eyes searched the dimly lit room for something to occupy his mind in the meantime, scanning over the books on the shelf across from the bed until he remembered the one Sam had pulled out and set on the nightstand.

Danny picked the book up and carefully turned over the cover, already knowing what was on the other side. In faded black ink was his father’s name written, something he often did with the books he added to his collection to show their ownership. He examined each letter, every detail of his father’s penmanship from the loop of his ‘g’ to the arch of his ‘r’, and when he was done he turned the next page over and began to read.

It was nearly noon when Sam woke up. Or at least that’s how late it felt, his body feeling heavy and stiff with all the sleep he’d finally managed to get. Danny was still next to him, asleep himself now with a book turned over on the last page he’d read resting against his unmoving chest. He didn’t need to breathe when he slept, so he laid there like a statue with his features carved into a blank expression leading Sam to believe he didn’t get to dream in his sleep either. How boring that must be, having all the time in the world but never getting to dream. He’d go insane.

Sam didn’t think he’d be able to wake Danny, but he was still careful as he climbed out of the bed and tiptoed around to the other side so he could pick up the book and set it back onto the nightstand. He slipped a piece of paper between the pages so Danny would know where to pick back up reading, though he was surprised when he saw which book it was Danny had selected to begin last night. He would have to ask him how it was later.

Today he had to go home for a while. Do some laundry and pack another week’s worth of clothes in his duffel bag. He also needed to go grocery shopping since Danny didn’t have any reason to keep much food stocked in the house. Just as he was pulling his jeans on he heard his cell phone vibrating and when he saw who the contact was he answered it right away.

“Jake?”

“No, it's me” Josh’s voice came through the other end, making Sam grab the phone from where he had wedged it between his ear and shoulder as he put his shoes on.

“Josh? Why are you calling on Jake’s phone? And in the middle of the day?”

“Well, I broke my phone…” Josh vaguely answered his first question but ignored the other. “Sam, I need you. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad”.

“What?” Sam stood up, the laces on his shoes still undone but he didn’t pay them any mind. “What happened?”

“Please…” Sam could hear the tremble in his voice even through the phone. “Just come over, quickly”.

With a glance in Danny’s direction Sam debated trying to wake him up, but the sun was out. What was Danny going to be able to do right now?

“Stay on the phone with me” he replied, grabbing his keys and his wallet and slipping out the door by himself. “I’m on my way”.

Taglist:

╭────── · · ♰ · · ──────╮

@sanguinebats @holdingup-fallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-choose-the-road @alantern-inthenight @scarabsinthestardust @josh-iamyour-mama

╰────── · · ♰ · · ──────╯

oh this was so beautiful. this will be the reason I learn how to line dance

Boots, Beards & Betrayal

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Danny finds a new pass time while Greta Van Fleet is off from touring that doesn’t involve the Kiszka’s, and they are less than accepting.

Warnings: language, assless chaps, Sassy Sam, Sunglasses at night - indoors, theft if you squint, alcohol consumption, a super bendy, a flexible guy named Ryder, shameless flirting, and the misuse of an Applebees 2 for $20 meal…

AN: This idea was born from seeing a random line dance tiktok while i was talking to @tripthedharmadivine! I actually sent her a very long message that started with "Imagine if you will -" and proceeded to fill her inbox with the most unhinged very shortened rough draft of this. She is a real one because she puts up with me, lol! 💜😘I also need to thank @writingcold because she read it first to make sure it wasn't too out there, and to make sure I dotted all my i's and crossed all my t's. She is an amazing human that one! And she also puts up with all of my harebrained ideas, and usually has some kind of input to make them better! 💜😘 LOVE YOU BOTH LONG TIME!

It all started with a girl.

Well, kind of.

Really, it started with Daniel Wagner following a girl into a honky tonk on a Thursday night - cowboy boots clicking like a metronome for the unhinged, disco ball spinning just a little too fast, the air thick with cheap beer, cigarette ghosts, country twang, and the scent of heartbreak that had been marinating in the floorboards since 1973.

He didn’t even get her name before she disappeared into a sea of denim, rhinestones, and the kind of joy only found in synchronized stomping. She was gone in an instant. Vanished between a man in assless chaps and a woman drinking tequila straight from a glittery boot.

But it didn’t matter. Because something else caught his eye.

Line dancing.

Structured chaos executed with wild precision. Absolute boot-stomping, fringe-flapping anarchy in 4/4 time. The dance floor moved like a single, glittery organism, every heel-toe and clap echoing like gospel. Boots stomped in perfect rhythm to “Boot Scootin’ Boogie,” and something deep in Daniel Wagner’s soul - something dusty and long-dormant, shifted.

He stood there, eyes wide, transfixed. A grown man with calluses from drumsticks and emotional walls like Fort Knox, now practically weeping over a grapevine step.

He didn’t know where the girl went after that.

He didn’t care.

Within minutes, he was in the corner of the bar, hunched over his phone, trying to learn the Electric Slide from a YouTube tutorial titled “Beginner Line Dancing for Southern Moms.” His concentration was absolute. The bar could have been on fire and he wouldn’t have noticed unless the flames tapped to the beat.

And that’s where everything began to fall apart.

~~~~~

By the next Thursday, Daniel had returned.

Voluntarily. Eagerly.

Wearing a pearl snap shirt and a belt buckle so large it could pick up satellite channels. His boots were polished. His confidence was unearned. But dammit, he knew two whole line dances now and half of “Fancy Like.”

The bartenders greeted him with a nod. The DJ called him “New Boots.” A bachelorette party asked for a photo with him after he did the worm during a line dance break. He’d never been more alive.

And like any man in the first stages of a sudden identity crisis, he threw himself in completely.

By week three, he had purchased a denim vest embroidered with “Boot Daddy.”

By week four, he was attending practice. With a group. On purpose. In a church basement where everyone brought snacks in Tupperware and spoke in hushed reverence about the “Chattahoochee Slide Incident of ’19.”

Daniel didn’t understand it all. But he felt it. In his boots. In his bones.

At home, however, things were beginning to unravel.

He stopped replying in the group chat. He missed three rehearsals. He turned off his read receipts.

Josh tried calling him twelve times in one day. Sam drove by his house and swore he saw a hay bale in the driveway. And Jake… Jake refused to speak of it. Every time someone brought up Daniel’s name, he simply looked out the window and whispered, “He was the glue.”

By the fifth week, the others were fully convinced Daniel Wagner had been abducted by the Honky Tonk Underground.

“Guys,” Josh whispered one evening, holding up a blurry photo he’d found online. “This was taken last Saturday. That’s Danny. That’s him. In a hat. A real one. Not ironic. And look at his hips. They’re swaying.”

Sam leaned in, horrified. “He’s become one of them, and he looks... happy.”

Jake’s sunglasses glinted under the overhead light. He hadn’t moved in hours, but now, slowly, mechanically he reached down and pulled on his boots.

The others fell silent.

Josh swallowed. “What are you doing?”

Jake stood, slow and deliberate. He cracked his neck. “We’re going to get our drummer back.”

Sam grabbed the random zucchini laying on the kitchen counter, “Danny would understand,” was all the reason he gave. 

Josh grabbed a tambourine,  “For distraction purposes,” he clarified.

Jake grabbed the keys.

And with all the gravity of a rescue mission gone too far, they climbed into Jake’s jeep - an old thing with too many bumper stickers and a distinct smell of regret - and tore off into the night, following the distant sound of fiddle strings and heartbreak.

~~~

The honky tonk loomed ahead - loud, pulsing, alive. From the outside, it looked harmless enough. Neon lights. A wagon wheel. A banner advertising “Thirsty Thursday Boot Scootin’ Bonanza.”

But the trio knew better.

Inside that barn-shaped dive was a cult. A rhythm-based utopia. Their drummer - their friend - was somewhere in there, two-stepping further from sanity with every chorus of “Friends in Low Places.”

Jake killed the headlights a block away.

They parked in an abandoned Sonic lot and approached on foot, sticking to the shadows like denim-clad ninjas. Sam crawled behind a row of hay bales. Josh rolled unnecessarily across gravel, smearing dust and dirt all over his pants, that somehow made them shimmer and sparkle like glitter. Jake simply walked, slow and deliberate, sunglasses reflecting the honky tonk’s blinding marquee like some kind of country-themed action hero.

As they reached the entrance, they paused.

“Remember,” Jake said, voice low, teeth clenched around a toothpick that he had picked up somewhere along the way. “We go in quiet. Observe. Blend.”

Josh nodded. “Got it. Stealth.”

Sam gave a thumbs up. “I brought disguises.”

He pulled out three mustaches. All the same. All far too large.

Jake blinked. “That won’t work.”

“It will if you believe,” Sam whispered ominously, already sticking his on upside down.

They slipped inside with the slow-motion gravitas of an early 2000s action movie. Boots hit the floor in perfect sync. The bar lights strobed dramatically, though that might’ve just been a power issue. Everything slowed down - the glitter in the air, the whirl of the disco ball, the swirl of fringe and flannel moving as one.

Time didn’t stop, exactly. But it did sway to 4/4 time.

Jake scanned the crowd.

Josh gasped. “There. At the bar. It’s him.”

Daniel Wagner. Wearing a shirt that read “LINE DANCING SAVED MY LIFE.” Laughing with a woman in fringe and a man named Skeeter, who had a full sleeve of cowboy boot tattoos and the confidence of someone who'd line danced through a tornado.

“He’s… happy,” Sam whispered again, like it was the worst thing that could possibly be true.

They didn’t move. Just watched. Observed. Absorbed.

The bar smelled like spilled whiskey, deep-fried regrets, and…. glitter? A banner hung above the stage: “HONKY TONK ROYALTY: Line Dancing King & Queen Showdown”. The stakes? A trophy shaped like a rhinestoned boot, Honky Tonk King & Queen t-shirts, and a $50 gift card to Applebee’s each.

The music was loud. The crowd was louder.

Josh stared wide-eyed from the back of the bar. “...Did that sign say queen?”

Sam elbowed him. “Focus. We’re here for Danny.”

Then, as Sam turned to look at him, without warning - Josh was gone.

He slipped into the crowd, tambourine tucked under his arm, hips beginning to twitch dangerously to the beat. Sam cursed and ran after him. “DON’T YOU DARE CONGA LINE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Jake stayed in his spot.

Watching.

Waiting.

Planning.

They’d come for a rescue.

But the honky tonk had other plans.

Jake adjusted his belt buckle - pointlessly, but aggressively - and stepped into the fray.

The moment he crossed the dance floor’s threshold, something shifted. The lights hit him like judgment. The beat pulsed beneath his boots. A fiddle wailed from the speakers with the kind of violence that sounded… personal.

He was in the belly of the beast.

Line dancers moved in precise formation, parting just enough to let him pass like some kind of denim Moses. A woman in a pink cowboy hat winked at him. A man in sequined overalls offered him a Bud Light. 

Jake didn’t falter, just continued moving.

He stalked forward, sunglasses still on despite the dim lighting, scanning for Daniel - his brother in rhythm, lost to the glittered cult. He passed a couple practicing the “Honky Tonk Hipslap,” a bartender doing shots with a man wearing a bolo tie shaped like a scorpion, and an elderly woman who looked him up and down and whispered, “Gahlee boy, you look like trouble.”

He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Ma’am,” before he made his way toward the stage for a better view of his surroundings.

Sam, still chasing Josh through the crowd, came to the middle of the dance floor and stopped dead in his tracks.

Daniel. Dead center of the dance floor. Mid-“Tush Push.” Beaming. Alive in a way Sam hadn’t seen since they played Red Rocks. Surrounded by people who were cheering him on like he was homecoming royalty.

Sam’s chest tightened.

And then the music stopped.

A voice boomed over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new challenger.”

The crowd turned.

Sam froze. “I’m not—”

But it was too late. The dance floor had closed in around him. The DJ hit the intro to “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” like it was a war cry. A woman handed Sam a fringed vest. Someone put a solo cup in his hand. The lights dimmed.

The crowd chanted: “DANCE OFF! DANCE OFF!”

Daniel stepped forward, face flushed, breathless, smiling. “Sam?”

Sam’s jaw clenched. “We came to bring you back.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Then dance for me, bitch.”

And with that, the crowd roared, the beat dropped, and Sam Kiszka - bassist, brother, reluctant savior - was dragged into the most aggressive line dance showdown in honky tonk history.

It started innocent enough.

Sam threw down a decent heel-toe combo. Nothing fancy. An attempt at a little old school mashed potato with a dash of the twist, and a few claps, just trying to keep pace with Daniel’s frighteningly natural rhythm. The crowd whooped, forming a circle like a country-western fight club, drinks sloshing and boots stomping in chaotic support.

Daniel grinned and spun - a perfect lasso-motion with his arms - his fringe cutting through the air like judgment.

Sam mirrored it.

Then Daniel body rolled.

And that’s when everything went sideways.

Sam hesitated. A body roll? Here? In daylight, with his brothers watching? But the crowd cheered. Encouraged him. Demanded it.

He rolled.

It betrayed him.

His back cracked like a haunted attic door. His hips lied about their range of motion. Jake gasped as he heard the crack from the edge of the dance floor. Someone yelled, “OH NO HE DID THE SPINE SHIMMY.”

But Sam kept going.

Fueled by pure spite and one tequila shot he deeply regretted, he doubled down. Hands in the air. Shoulders rolling like he’d been possessed by the ghost of a jazzercise instructor. Daniel answered with a slide, a spin, and a devastating finger-point.

Sam couldn’t lose.

So, naturally, he attempted a pirouette.

Why?

No one knows.

Not even Sam.

He lifted his arms. Planted his foot. Turned - once, twice - too many.

His other boot caught on a discarded cowboy hat. He flailed. Time slowed.

The crowd gasped in one collective inhale as Sam went down, limbs flailing like a noodle in a car wash. He hit the floor with all the grace of a wounded armadillo.

A hush fell.

Then, the DJ whispered reverently: “Fatal pirouette.”

Daniel extended a hand. “Nice try.”

Sam, flat on his back, groaned. “Tell my bass… I died line dancing.”

Jake facepalmed before choking out a laugh.

Josh shouted as he danced the funky chicken, “I TAUGHT HIM THAT SPIN!”

Sam’s head whipped around from the floor.

“No,” he croaked, eyes narrowing like a man who’d seen too much. “No.”

He sprang to his feet with the speed of someone who had absolutely no business springing to their feet.

“There he is!” he barked, pointing like a preacher spotting sin. “Josh, no!”

But it was too late. Josh had fully committed. His shirt was unbuttoned to his navel, his hair fluffed by the honky tonk air like a shampoo commercial in slow motion. He was doing a cowboy shimmy that felt deeply illegal in at least three states.

Sam tore across the dance floor, dodging boots, fringe, and pure chaos. “I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU START TWERKING—”

Josh cackled and galloped toward the back exit, two-stepping his way into legend.

Sam chased after him, red-faced and limping slightly, yelling, “YOU’RE RUINING OUR FAMILY NAME!”

Sam chased Josh through the back exit, boots skidding over gravel, past a smoldering ashtray and someone’s forgotten purse. But when he rounded the corner—

Nothing.

No Josh.

Just an empty lot lit by the neon hum of a flickering "Longneck Saloon" sign and the faint echo of laughter on the wind. Sam spun in a circle, hands on hips, muttering curses under his breath before trudging back into the honky tonk with the solemn air of a man who had seen things.

And then - there he was.

Daniel.

Cowboy hat tilted just so, arms locked with that same mystery girl, stomping and spinning like he’d been born in a barn and raised by honky tonk angels. His shirt clung to him in all the right places. His smile could light up all of Nashville. The dance floor glowed around him like a stage ordained by heaven and Bud Light.

Sam stopped cold. Jaw slack. Eyes wide.

He was watching a miracle. Or maybe a cult recruitment.

Josh sidled up beside him, whispering with reverence, “…Is he glowing?”

Sam’s fists clenched. “She corrupted him.”

They were just in time for the final round.

Josh shrugged off his jacket with Broadway flair, grabbed the nearest twink - whose name, it turned out, was Ryder - and shouted, “Partner me UP!”

Ryder screamed with delight. They twirled directly into the spotlight, as Josh summoned super bitch telling Danny to “fuck off” as Ryder twirled him around the floor to the sounds of Hank Williams Sr singing “Hey Good Lookin” in  a blur of sequins and commitment.

Sam tried to follow. He really did.

But fate, and someone’s discarded bolo tie had other plans.

He tripped, windmilled, and dominoed straight into three contestants and a bar stool, landing in a pile of denim, feathers, and mild embarrassment. The judge held up a hand. “Eliminated.”

Furious. 

Petty.

Sam resorted to throwing peanut shells on the floor trying to make Danny’s dancing partner slip and fall.

When those failed?

The chair he was sitting in came next.

It arced across the dance floor like a majestic, wooden missile, slow-motion and poetic. The impact was cinematic. Danny and the girl were mid-spin when it struck—shocked betrayal frozen in time as they toppled together like romantic bowling pins.

Josh and Ryder went down next. Legs tangled. Sass flying.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The DJ whispered, “Y’all… it’s a massacre.”

The honky tonk was chaos - upturned chairs, groaning dancers, peanut shells raining like confetti.  Amid the wreckage, Sam, Josh, and Danny regrouped by the jukebox, breathless and covered in varying degrees of sweat, sawdust, and shame.

Josh rubbed his elbow where he and Ryder had gone down. “You launched a chair, Sam.”

Sam crossed his arms. “It was symbolic.”

“Of what, exactly?” Danny asked, brushing sawdust off his shirt. “Your inability to cope with losing to a guy doing the Cha Cha Slide in cowboy boots?”

“You were glowing,” Sam snapped.

Danny’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You had that weird... twinkle thing going on,” Sam mumbled. “It was unnatural. Like you’d been kissed by Dolly Parton herself.”

Josh threw his hands in the air. “You assaulted all of us because Danny found his rhythm and I found a very flexible man named Ryder?”

“He flipped into a dip, Josh!”

Josh smirked, “Twice.”

“Okay, ENOUGH,” Danny said, running a hand through his hair. “We lost. No trophy. No t-shirts. No bragging rights. No Applebee’s gift card! Thanks to Sam’s cowboy WWE debut.”

They stood there, glaring, stewing in collective irritation and disappointment, when a sudden quiet washed over them.

Sam looked around. “Wait… where’s Jake?”

They all turned.

Scan of the bar - no sunglasses at night. No boot scuff trail. No awkward attempt at dancing with a drink in each hand.

Josh frowned. “He was at the bar when we came back in.”

Danny squinted toward the shadows near the back booths. “He’s not with tequila boot lady…”

Sam’s voice dropped. “You don’t think he left, do you?”

They fell silent. Something cold slid down their spines, replacing the whiskey warmth.

Josh glanced at the exit. “C’mon. We better find him before he signs up for karaoke. You know how he gets.”

Danny grabbed his hat. “Or worse - tries to slow dance alone.”

Sam shivered. “The horror.”

But just as they turned toward the exit, a sharp twang split the air.

All three froze.

Heads turned toward the stage where a small crowd had begun to gather, gasping and whispering.

And there he was.

Jake.

Standing dead center under the spotlight, stage lights catching in his hair like some tragic honky tonk messiah. He held a fiddle in his hands - wrong, completely wrong - like it was his SG. His fingers fumbled across the strings with the uncertainty of someone trying to butter toast with a spork.

Josh whispered, horrified, “Is he trying to play that thing?”

Jake squinted. Turned it upside down. Back again.

Then he began to pick.

Random, discordant notes at first - like a drunk mosquito tapping out Morse code.

Danny winced. “This is how revolutions start.”

But then—

Magic.

Like someone flipped a switch or poured moonshine on a gremlin.

The notes twisted into something terrifyingly familiar. Fast. Faster. Too fast.

Orange Blossom Special, but played like he was being chased by demons. The fiddle let out a scream of sonic chaos, and Jake leaned into it like he was summoning ghosts. His foot stomped the beat. The bow blurred in his hand.

Josh’s jaw dropped. “He’s - he’s shredding.”

Danny blinked. “On a fiddle.”

It was unhinged. It was magnificent. It was enough to make Roy Hall dance a jig in his grave and possibly rise to request an encore.

The bar went silent - then erupted.

Boots stomped. Hats flew. Someone screamed, “GET IT, VIOLIN JESUS.”

Sam, jaw clenched, whispered, “He’s possessed.”

Josh just stared. “He’s glowing.”

Danny put a hand to his heart. “I think I’m in love.”

The DJ's voice boomed over the speakers.

“Alright folks, the FINAL round of the line dancing competition is about to begin! Get your partners ready and your boots to stompin’!”

Sam, Josh, and Danny paused, then exchanged looks after noticing Jake was gone again..

"Now where'd he go?" Sam whined as Jake seemed to have disappeared from the stage.

“Maybe he’s in the crowd,” Josh muttered.

“Or backstage?” Danny suggested.

They didn’t see him anywhere. No Jake. No sunglasses. No unnecessary flair. Nothing.

Defeated, they retreated to the bar and claimed a corner with prime viewing. Sam ordered three whiskeys and a bowl of something suspiciously labeled "nacho-adjacent."

Minutes passed.

Competitors twirled. Couples spun. Fringe shimmered under the disco ball. And still - no Jake.

“Maybe he really did leave,” Danny sighed.

“He wouldn’t,” Josh said with conviction, then added, “Unless the bar ran out of bourbon.”

They were just about to give up when it happened.

“DON’T GIVE ME NO LINES, AND KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!” blared from the speakers, somehow played at double speed, nearly indecipherable.

And there on the edge of the dance floor — he emerged.

Jake.

But not just Jake.

Oliver Reed.

Fake beard askew. Cane tucked under one arm. Cowboy hat tipped rakishly to the side. He was dressed in his full, absurd alter ego getup, and his feet were flying.

An Irish jig. A literal, blazing, heel-kicking, toe-tapping jig. To the Georgia Satellites.

His limbs moved faster than physics should allow. The cane twirled. His loafers clicked in rhythmic fury. The entire bar ground to a halt.

One by one, the other contestants slowed, confused, mesmerized.

Josh’s jaw dropped. “What... what is happening?”

Danny shook his head in awe. “He’s... glowing.”

Sam’s fists clenched. “The honky tonk corrupted him.”

The music hit its final frenzied beat just as the DJ leapt to the mic.

“Well folks, I think we’ve got a clear winner here! Give it up for... OLIVER REED!”

The bar erupted.

Jake bowed. The beard fell off mid-spin.

Nobody cared.

The crowd was still roaring as Jake—er, Oliver Reed strutted off the dance floor, cane twirling and beard now draped over one ear like a rogue opossum.

Sam was the first to intercept him.

“What was that?” he demanded, eyes wild. “You jigged. To Southern rock. In disguise. After vanishing for half an hour!”

Jake blinked, still catching his breath, chest heaving. “I blacked out. I think I heard the spirit of Johnny Cash tell me to take it personally.”

Josh doubled over, laughing so hard he had to lean on a bar stool. “What even is our life right now?”

Danny pointed at Jake’s feet. “You were hovering. I swear to God. I saw sparks.”

Jake grinned, barely able to stand. “I don’t remember anything. Someone just handed me a fiddle and said ‘prove it.’”

Sam threw up his hands. “YOU CAN’T EVEN PLAY THE FIDDLE.”

Jake shrugged. “Apparently I can now. I think the beard unlocked something.”

Josh wiped tears from his eyes. “I—no, I can’t—Sam, please be madder, this is killing me.”

“I am mad!” Sam shouted, gesturing wildly. “You disappeared. We thought you’d been abducted by honky tonk cultists. Then you teleport onto the dance floor dressed like a grandpa and win the whole damn thing??”

Jake patted his shoulder solemnly. “The beard chose me.”

Danny leaned in, still trying to breathe through his laughter. “You okay, Sam? You’re looking a little... emotionally unstable.”

“Don’t. Start with me,” Sam growled, pacing a tight circle. “We were disqualified because of my chair, and somehow you still won with a cane and a jig.”

Josh nudged Jake, eyes sparkling. “You know he’s just mad because he is jealous of Ryder’s bendy flips and dips.”

“Ryder was limber,” Jake acknowledged, nodding.

“DON’T MAKE THIS ABOUT RYDER,” Sam wailed.

“Too late,” Danny said. “This is now Ryder canon.”

Sam turned in place like a malfunctioning Roomba. “I hate this bar. I hate line dancing. I hate Georgia Satellites. And I especially hate that Jake looked good doing that jig.”

Jake slung an arm around his shoulders. “We’re all winners tonight, Sammy-boy. But especially Oliver Reed, and well… interestingly and profoundly me”

Sam let out a long-suffering groan as they exited the bar. 

~~~~~

They all gathered at Applebee’s to cash in the coveted gift card Jake - sorry, Oliver - had won through his stunning display of foot fury and disguise. A true hero’s feast was in order.

Josh, having crowned himself with the neon purple Honky Tonk Queen shirt he’d pilfered from Jake’s prize pile, entered the restaurant with the flair of a man arriving at the Met Gala, finger-gunning the hostess and announcing, “Royalty has arrived.” He refused to sit unless someone pulled out his chair. No one did.

Jake insisted on drinking only from his rhinestoned boot trophy. He brought it in tucked under his arm like a newborn, cleaned it with a napkin, and poured root beer in it with the reverence of a sacred ritual. “It tastes better this way,” he claimed, while clinking it gently against the salt shaker in a lonely toast to himself.

Sam, always on a different wavelength entirely, asked the server if the cook could incorporate the zucchini he’d brought from home into his meal. “It’s organic,” he explained, placing it on the table like an offering. “And emotionally bonded to me.”

The server blinked. “Sir, this is an Applebee’s.”

Danny, ever the oasis of reason among unrelenting nonsense, had quietly ordered a 2-for-$20 meal and was aggressively guarding both plates like a dragon hoarding treasure. The glint in his eye said don’t even think about it.

“No, Sam,” he said, not even looking up from his riblets. “I don’t want to share.”

“But you got the spinach-artichoke dip and the—”

“No.”

Josh tried to flirt with their waitress by telling him he’d just won a major dance competition. When he asked what the prize was, Jake leaned in and said, “A boot and a trauma bond.”

Sam, stewing in his seat, kept muttering things like “I was the real Honky Tonk Queen,” and “If I had better arch support, I would’ve won.” He also started Googling “line dancing legal loopholes.”

Josh, mid-way through a chicken tender, caught sight of himself in the reflection of the napkin holder and whispered, “God, I do look good in purple.”

Jake, still sipping from his trophy, declared, “Oliver Reed never dies. He just line dances into legend.”

Danny sighed, wiping his hands slowly with a napkin. “I should’ve gone home with the mystery girl. Or literally anyone else.”

Josh finally raised his regular glass - he’d given up trying to steal the boot - and made a toast, voice raw from laughing and inhaling mozzarella sticks.

“To chaos, twinks, and aggressive footwork.”

Sam raised his zucchini.

Jake raised his rhinestoned boot.

Danny did not raise anything. He just kept eating, silently accepting the fate of being the only sane man left in Applebee’s.