snippets part deux!
Everyone talks about how van tours are the worst, how they want a bus with a fridge for their beer, and bunks and TVs and playstations, but Bert just doesn't get how anything could be better than this, Branden at the wheel of their shitty white van, arguing with Jepha over the radio stations (all of which come in a little fuzzy), Quinn's head in his lap as they crash in the back. There aren't any seats anymore, unless you count amps and hard cases full of equipment, and Bert's made a nest out of sleeping bags and hoodies and the blanket Quinn's mom gave them when they left two weeks ago. Its dark out, the kind of perfect middle-of-the-night stillness that Bert loves, that he used to wander into the scrub at night looking for back home, finding a warm, flat rock and laying on it, arms outstretched.
Here, its a little more tedious, but no less beautiful. He's still buzzed from the Jack and Coke Jepha slipped him in the venue, and the quick toke he shared with Quinn before they had to climb in the van. His whole body is happy, he thinks, tired in the best way, or nearly the best way. He giggles at his own joke, tips his head back against the wall of the van and watches stars out the window.
It's maybe half an hour later when the van jerks to the right hard enough to wake him up. Branden is cursing and Jepha has his hand outstretched, making sure everyone's okay. "Fucking hell, this was a bad plan," Branden says, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes.
"Pull over," Jeph says steadily. "We'll sleep for a few hours and get going in the morning." Their show that night was amazing but exhausting. "We could all use some sleep."
Branden doesn't even wait for the next rest stop, just pulls off the road at the next truck pass and parks the van under the dark of the trees at the far side. He and Jeph crawl in the back without a word and Quinn blinks his eyes open as Jeph settles close to his side. "We stopped?" he asks, voice rough, and Bert scratches his fingers along Quinn's scalp, grins at the way his eyes flutter.
"Branden's a pussy," Bert says and moves fast to avoid Branden's shoe, chucked at his head.
"Bert's a virgin, who can't drive," Jeph says, a perfect Clueless impersonation, and Bert's laugh is loud, echoing off the metal walls.
"Yeah, well, the first part’s a total lie," Quinn turns his head and bites Bert's hip through his t-shirt.
"I'm a whore, it's true." Bert shoves Quinn's head off his lap and scoots under the covers. They're all shirtless, save Bert, and Quinn makes annoyed sound and shoves his hands under Bert's shirt, pushing it up under his armpits.
"You reek," Quinn says, and Bert grins slowly in the dark and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"You want me," he says back, yanking off his shirt and biting Quinn's shoulder.
"Motherfucker," Quinn yelps. Bert laughs again, diving over him and elbowing his way between Quinn's side and Jepha's back. Quinn turns to follow him, light punches landing on Bert's side, his hip, his thigh.
"You're a menace," Jepha laughs as Bert tries to pull Jepha on top of him, shielding him from Quinn's hands.
"Which one of us?" Bert asks, eyes scrunched shut as Quinn bites at his ear.
"Both, oh my god, shut up," Branden groans and Quinn reaches over Bert and Jepha to tweak his nipple. They all freeze for a moment in total silence before Branden says "Oh, fuck you," and dives over Jepha, knee landing a bit too close to Bert's dick for comfort. He hooks his leg around Branden's hip and pulls him down.
"Watch it, asshole," he says, but he's cackling at this point, with Jepha's face buried in his shoulder, his whole back shaking with laughter. Branden hits Quinn once on his bare stomach, his open palm connecting hard and fast and making a perfect smacking noise, and Quinn's legs come up reflexively as he howls. Bert leans up and kisses Branden, lips closed until he pulls back, then licking a long stripe up his cheek. "I love you," he smiles and Branden smiles back, his teeth shining white in the dark of the van.
Next to him, Quinn sighs and shifts a little closer. "You love me too?" he asks, fingers insinuating themselves between Bert and Branden's stomachs. Bert wrinkles his nose like he's thinking about it.
"Nope," he says, but he moves fast and his tongue is in Quinn's mouth, swallowing his indignant huff.
"Nnngh." Quinn pushes up to his elbow and bites at Bert's bottom lip. Bert's lost in it, all warm bodies around him, over him, and he tangles his hand in Quinn's hair and pushes his hips up into Branden.
"Fuck, Bert," Branden grits out and tries to shift away, but Bert's legs are deceptively strong, wrapping tighter around his waist and tugging him down until Bert can feel the outline of Branden's dick, hard against his own. Branden's head drops a little, and Bert can feel Jeph moving next to him, lifting up to kiss Branden's shoulder, smooth a hand down his bare back. They don't get this often, Branden panting and pliant, and Bert rolls his hips again, and again, mouth going slack and sloppy against Quinn's as the friction makes him stupid.
"Oh fuck, fucking god damn," Bert arches his head back against the blankets, and he can feel the cold metal of the van hard underneath them. Quinn's mouth drifts lower, tongue teasing against Bert's neck, fingernails scratching over his nipple. He can feel Quinn's hips hitching against his thigh, but all he can really focus on is the way Branden's roll and push, and Bert wishes he'd gotten naked, wishes Branden were naked, but this is enough, right now. He forces his eyes open to see Jepha's tongue flick against Branden's lower lip. Branden turns his head with a whimper, lets Jepha all the way inside. It's gorgeous in its rarity, and Bert laughs, breathless, because its proof that he loves them too. Branden's hips stutter and shake a minute later and Bert keeps his eyes open, memorizes the sheen on Branden's shoulders, the shape of his mouth as he comes. He drops his head to Bert's chest and Bert kisses his temple, tries to move his hips to regain the friction and fails.
"Fucking... move, asshole," he laughs again and Branden smacks him on the hip. Quinn just shoves Branden hard, until he's on top of Jepha, hands petting his back, and settles between Bert's thighs. "Hi," Quinn grins and Bert's eyebrows shoot up dramatically. "You do love me," he says, affecting a southern accent, "my hero," and Quinn rolls his eyes and tugs Bert's pants down to his thighs.
"You're doing me next, don't fucking think you aren't, dick," he says and sucks the head of Bert's cock into his mouth without warning. Bert bangs his fist on the floor of the van and arches up with a groan. Quinn's mouth is perfect, always knows when to tease and when to just suck hard enough that Bert sees stars. This time, there are definitely stars.
Next to him, Jepha's laugh turns into a panting whimper, and Bert looks down to see Branden's hand slipping into Jeph's pants, the rest of him boneless and grinning. Jepha doesn't push (Jepha never pushes, just like Bert always pushes), just lets his body shift in fractions until its the perfect angle, whispers "yeah, yes, there" until its the perfect touch, and Bert comes into Quinn's mouth without warning when Jepha turns and smiles at him.
Bert will never understand the allure of tour buses, not when he has sleeping bags and cold steel and warm bodies and wandering hands. Not when he has this.
(Thanks to sinsense for the quick, way past last minute beta!!)