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Wes.
The same way he’d done more than once this past week, as soon as the applause post-encore had died down and the rest of his bandmates were making their way back to the greenroom, Wes booked it out, as fast and clean as he could. Made his way straight through the back hall and through a side door, until he was safely out in front of the tour bus. He let out a huge sigh of relief, when their driver, Marty, opened up the door for him.
“Hey, kid,” the older man said, with a sad little smile. Marty was a good guy, always solid, never seeming to make judgments about things he didn’t know. Still, it made something in Wes’ belly stir, with the awareness that this was the one person who was watching him even while no one else was, who might possibly put together the pieces of his own personal disaster puzzle. But he really didn’t want to think about that too hard tonight, not after such a good show.
“Not feeling good again, Wesley?”
He winced, not loving the scrutiny, even if it was oddly satisfying to have someone else acknowledge his own discomfort. Not an actual member of the band. Not a close friend. Marty had been their driver for awhile now, though and was more like a father figure.
“Yeah, I’m,” Wes gestured vaguely at himself as he stood just inside the doors, feeling more awkward than he would have liked. “My stomach is still kind of fucked from the other night, so.” He shrugged, mollified by Marty’s sympathetic expression.
“That’s awful, kid. Well, make yourself an Alka Seltzer and go lie down, yeah?”
Wes nodded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Alka Seltzer was Marty’s cure-all, apparently. Javi had once compared him to the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding with his Windex, and they'd all laughed because it was so spot-on.
“Will do.”
“Oh, and Wesley?”
The drummer stopped and turned. “Yeah?”
“Great solo tonight, kid. I heard the whole thing,” he beamed.
Wes smiled, for real this time. “Thanks, man.”
He slapped Marty on the shoulder before disappearing into the depths of the bus, grateful for the solitude. He made his way to his bunk in the back- right across from Joe’s-and drew the curtain halfway closed. He reached for his pipe and the little packet of weed he had tucked away and started to pack it, while images from the evening’s show swirled behind his eyes. It was their last night at Brooklyn Steel, and it had been a great show. The best of all three, in his eyes.
There was still a buzzing, just under his skin, as the adrenaline began to taper off.
Wes lay back on the slightly lumpy mattress and dug his fingertips into his eyes. The guys would be back soon, in thirty minutes or so, if he was lucky. But maybe less, so he knew he didn’t have the luxury of fully indulging in this….whatever he was feeling.
He’s known Joe for close to ten years, at this point. They’d recorded music together, played numerous gigs together and yet.…this had never been on his bingo card.
They’d bonded pretty quickly, since that first time they met when Joe came over to hang out at Dalton’s place and they’d all jammed, the six of them. That was while Joe was working on one of his early solo pieces while juggling his role in Stranger Things. Wes had liked him immediately, the guy was just wildly funny and chaotic, and so, so down to earth. It was a nice surprise, to see that his growing fame hadn’t affected his ego in any way. At least, not in any way that Wes could perceive.
What a lovely surprise that had been.
Eventually, Joe had asked Wes to come aboard his solo project and record with him, lead guitarist Sam Jordan, his close buddy Adam Thein on keys. Javi was already on board, so it was a total no brainer.
Wes and Joe had quickly become a regular part of each other’s lives, if not exactly close, that is, until one particular night, last fall. It was close to Halloween, Wes remembers that very clearly.
Jesus, had it really been a whole year?
The guys were all hanging out at some amazing cabin owned by a relative of Joe's in upstate New York.
They were just having fun, talking about music and ideas for a new album. They’d all gotten ridiculously high on Blood Orange gummies, and some fancy tequila gifted to Joe by a fan. All the guys had ended up crashing there, and somehow, he and Wes had ended up sleeping in the same bed.
Joe’s bed.
The memory had certainly grown hazier with time, but he still remembers Joe crying on his shoulder that night about losing his girl. They’d been together for many years, and Wes was no stranger to being dumped either, so he totally got it. The dude was genuinely heartbroken, no other word for it, and Wes had wanted to soothe him somehow, and ended up holding him. The embrace melted into something else, still vague, but his body still remembers the feeling of Joe's hard cock pressed up against his thigh. They'd kissed, Wes is sure of it, even though with the passing of time, it's come to feel like something out of a fever dream.
They hadn’t talked about it since. They’d gone about the next day like nothing had happened, but Wes knew. Things had changed.
At least for him.
**
“Hey, buddy. You alright?”
It’s Joe’s voice, right there, breath fanning gently over his face.
Wes’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to shake himself out of his light doze. And there he was, the man himself, standing mere inches away, a loose grip pulling back the privacy curtain. If it had been anyone else, Wes might have wanted to sock them in the jaw. But not Joe.
He cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, just got a killer headache, dude.”
His friend’s eyebrows inched higher. “Yeah? Marty said it was your stomach.”
“Nngh, yeah, that too,” he allowed. Well. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He really was feeling all out of sorts since the end of the show. He’d been fine during, because while he was playing music, he could pour his entire being into it and not let anything from the outside touch him, not even intrusive thoughts. It was only after getting offstage that everything had crept back in on him, with a vengeance.
“Oh. Sorry about that. Anything I can do?”'
Wes had to bite down on the first thought that came to mind. Yeah, climb into bed beside me, hold me, make me feel good. Let me make you feel good. None of that was anything he was about to say out loud, though.
“Nah, I’m good. Better now.” He forced himself into a sitting position, plastering a little smile on his face.
“Yeah? You sure?” There was that sweetness again, that gentle caring Joe always showed. It was gonna ruin Wes.
“Yeah. Just…I’m coming out.”
Joe’s answering smile lit up his whole countenance, and Wes couldn’t have said that it didn’t actually light up the dim area a little bit on its own power.
“Great, if you’re up to it. Come on, come sit up front with us. The guys wanna get tacos, there’s supposed to be a great place nearby. And if that’s too much for your tummy, we can heat up a can of soup for you,” he said, playful and sweet, eyes crinkling in a way that threatened to stop Wes’ heart just from sheer cute aggression.
The evening progressed, the way most nights post-show on the bus had gone, since they started this tour. Stupid games, smoking up or sharing gummies, drinking a little (not too much, since they all needed to be in shape for the next day). Lots of teasing, lots of laughter. It was a really special time. Sometimes Wes couldn’t believe he got paid for all of this, for doing something he loved this much, and hanging out with his friends.
Sometimes, a girlfriend of one of the guys would be there to hang with them, but it was mostly just for a night or two before they headed back to their other duties, outside of being part of the traveling crew.
Other tours had been similar, the lighthearted, fun familiarity that came with traveling with a group of friends. But this one….this was different, and it wasn’t just because the band had a higher profile now. More people recognized them on the streets. Their record sales had increased exponentially, and even though it wasn’t something they talked about in a group, it was understood that Joe’s return to the fold had been a tremendous boost to Post Animal. Joe was humble about it all, though. He still acted like just another member of the band, and that was….well. It was only making things harder for Wes.
So they ate tacos, Wes saying that they smelled too good not to and he was fucking hungry. Then Jake started reading aloud, some fanfiction Court had sent him about Steve Harrington being in love with Eddie Munson. She called it Steddie, and it wasn't the first time she'd shared something like that. Wes could have happily done without it, honestly, even if they were kind of fun.
“God, no,” Joe groaned, but that didn’t stop it from happening and soon they were all listening in, howling at turns as Jake read from the first chapter. It turned out to be better than any of them expected.
****
After that night, the next few days were easier. Wes settled back into the rhythm of life on the road, doing his best to just enjoy it and not think about his secret crush. It didn’t have to affect their friendship, or the band, as long as he could rein himself in, right? Because the last thing he wanted was to upset that lovely balance.
It didn’t escape his notice, though, that in spite of all the fan attention, backstage, at VIP events and even on the street, Joe almost never brought anyone onto the bus. There were scores of girls at every show, waiting around before and after, at the stage door. He dutifully took photos and smiled, was basically his irritatingly lovely self, but never took it beyond that.
Well. At least as far as Wes knew.
Doesn’t mean he hadn’t gotten an occasional blowjob backstage, maybe, but if that was the case, Joe was always too smart, too mindful to let himself get caught. So, yeah. No evidence of any of that, thanks, and Wes hasn’t pushed too far beyond so far to question why. Because why would he?
Privacy on a tour bus is a rare and precious thing as it is, so he’d just chalked it up to Joe not wanting to deal with an awkward one-night situation with some girl. All the other guys had girlfriends, who they shared days and nights off with on occasion, in a hotel or somewhere else that allowed more privacy. But not Wes. He got his fair share of attention, too, cute girls all over the place, making eyes at him all the time, but he hadn’t taken anyone up on it. There had been that one blowjob backstage, but that was after his last breakup so he feels like it's justifiable. His left hand had been his only source of release, of late, which was a pretty severe letdown, but he could deal with it.
****
Joe.
It was after the Glasgow show that Joe decided he just couldn’t take it anymore.
Something was going on with Wes.
And see, Joe had been struggling to make sense of his own feelings for awhile now. While he’d been mostly separate from his friends recently, recording Stranger Things and putting together songs for his solo project, that had all changed, since the beginning of the year. They’d recorded Iron together, a project that involved him returning to the fold, now back as an original member of Post Animal, and he couldn’t have been happier. When they went out on the road together, it became more than a successful tour for him. It became a celebration for all of them, especially after the release of Iron, which was strategically timed to fall just behind some pivotal dates of the new tour. Most importantly, though, it was a joyous reunion of a group of friends, coming together once again to play music that they made together.
But he couldn’t keep ignoring the shift he saw in Wes. Something had changed, and he wasn’t sure at first if it was just something his friend was struggling with or if it was his own imagination. Joe had always thought of himself as pretty in-tune with other people’s feelings, something he supposed he learned, in part, from growing up surrounded by sisters.
He’d locked his feelings away though, after that one drunken night when they’d slept side by side in his bed, but the memory of it–blurry though it was, had been niggling at him. Even more so, lately. Wes was always so good at putting on a brave face, but Joe had been noticing when he faltered. He couldn’t shake the thought that there was a deep well of sadness inside his friend, and the thought made him ache with a resounding sadness to match.
It was time to say suck it up, be brave and say something. He was pretty sure their friendship wouldn’t be able to survive if he didn’t.
Of course, a confession of his feelings might still lead to the two of them being alienated, and the thought of that made his heart twinge, but it was a risk he had to take.
It was tough, but he stuck it out for another couple of days, until the band had a week-long break from touring. Joe made the decision to save his own sanity: whatever else might come out of this confession, he was at least gonna make sure he got the timing right.
The band stayed in a hotel just outside of Philly that night, before the inevitable split that would come soon after. They’d planned one day to hang out in the area, before Wes, and most of the guys from Post Animal, were headed back home, to Chicago, with Joe and Adam heading back to New York City. There was a wonderful, quiet dinner, in a small, downscale place–they’d only been interrupted once, a fan asking for an autograph and a selfie with Joe. He smiled and obliged, the way he always did, but honestly he just wanted the evening to be over.
But for the past few days, Joe had been trying to come up with a way to get some alone time with Wes–just the two of them. It wasn’t an easy prospect.
When the guys had all agreed on visiting a farm with a corn maze as part of their last day together, Joe saw his opportunity.
*
Friday turned out to be a gorgeous mid-October day. All the guys rose early and were showered and dressed by eightish, so they could jump on a different bus. The leaves were just beginning to turn, and as the bus moved they were surrounded by a flurry of colors, deep reds and golds and oranges.
Shortly after embarking, Joe found himself in a seat right beside Wes. (Well, if he’s honest, it hadn’t been accidental–he’d chosen it specifically.) His friend seemed a bit more amped up than usual, knee jumping constantly. He’d been recording videos on his phone since they boarded, humming songs under his breath, like normal.
“Hey man, are you good?” Joe asked, bumping his shoulder against Wes’.
Wes grinned. “Yeah, all good.”
As the trip unwound to the farm, about an hour outside of Philly proper, Joe’s insides felt warm and a fizzy, like a can of soda that had been shaken up in a hot car. As per usual, on long trips, there was singing and laughter, crude jokes shouted across the open space, and who the fuck cared? They weren’t in their own bus, it was a regular tour bus they’d hired out for the day, giving Marty the day off. (Guy sure as shit deserved it.) At one point, near the end of the trip, Joe realized that Wes was watching an episode of Fargo, Season 5. He tuned in, fascinated at watching himself onscreen as Gator Tillman. It was the episode where Gator confronts Dot, who is locked in a shed by his father, Roy. It’s intense, and super emotional. The two of them watched the scene play out.
Wes turned those big, brown cow eyes of his to Joe.
“Man, you were fucking amazing in this show,” he declared, his voice frayed slightly that sounded something like awe. It was fucking Joe’s insides up, in the best way.
Joe huffed. “Thanks, man. Yeah, it was a fun show to do. Lots of downtime though, up in the Canadian wilderness caught up in periods of total isolation.” He was smiling to cover up, but he remembers it differently. He’d been lonely, a lot of the time, cut off from friends and family. He’d kept in touch with the guys as much as he could, mostly through instagram and text, but still. It had been really strange, to be separated from everyone by such a huge space.
“Perfect place to write music, though. If it hadn’t been for that, The Crux might have turned out very differently.” Or not turned out at all, he thought, but didn’t say.
****
The farm, as it turns out, is gigantic, offering various activities for families with kids who want to celebrate the season, everything from apple picking to face painting, hay rides, and of course, the infamous corn maze. The more adult attractions include a tent, with wine and hard cider tastings. As soon as they get off the bus, he knows most of the guys are gonna head there first.
He wants to go too, but having some one-on-one time with Wes is more importan to him.
The guys started walking towards the tent, but he hangs back, Wes still in step with him. Javi turned when they hesitate.
“What’s up? You guys wanna do something else first?” he asked, and God bless Javi for tuning into Joe’s unspoken thoughts.
“I was thinking, maybe, corn maze first? Before we get too messed up?” He shot a quick glance over at Wes, who tilted his head and smirked, a sign of easy agreement.
“Sounds good to me, man.”
Joe swallowed hard, bracing to see if Javi would turn and encourage the others to follow them, which is not what he wanted. Not this time. He needed some time alone with Wes, and expressing that….well. It wasn’t easy. He didn’t want speculation to start before he’d even had a chance to talk to Wes about this….whatever it was, or wasn’t between them. It felt too tentative and fragile.
Javi’s eyes darted between the two of them for a few seconds, and then he nodded. “Yeah, good. Sounds good. Text us when you’re out of there,” he grinned. “And don’t get lost.”
Joe watched him wander away after the rest of the group and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His eyes found Wes.’
“Yeah, but,” the drummer said with a smirk, as they walked slowly toward the corn maze. “Isn’t that kind of the whole point of something like this?”
Joe’s whole body softened, going a little lax at the realization that the two of them were in sync.
“Yeah, for sure. Let’s do it.”
“Danny Torrance and his mom, entering the maze,” Wes nodded. “Ok, but which one of us is Danny and which one is his mom?”
Joe groaned, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Some of the fanfics that Court had shared with them had called Steve a mom, especially because of the stance he took with the kids, hands on hips. Wes had just laughed, his eyes lit up with understanding, his full lips poised in the kind of grin that had been making Joe want to trace them with his thumb, more and more each day once he’d finally accepted that what he was feeling for Wes was way beyond friend feelings.
The pair took their time, wandering in the direction of the corn maze, enjoying some warm cider in the process. Joe eventually pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head, but was still wearing his favorite cap as minimal attempt to conceal his identity. They paid the fee and entered, side by side, both grinning. His head swam with the feeling like this was a first date.
He supposed, in a way, it was.
**
“This is kinda nice, ya know?”
Joe smiled as warmth bloomed in his chest, the way it did every time he realized how aligned they were. How much they felt and thought the same. It was incredible. He’d never felt so seen before, except maybe with his sisters, but this was different, of course.
It wasn’t a blood relative. It wasn't a woman he was dating. It was Wes.
“Yeah, it really is. Nice to get away from the crowd for a minute.”
They were taking their time, lumbering through the corn maze and laughing each time they turned down the wrong path.
“What would happen, you think, if we got really lost?”
Wes met his gaze, and he barked out a laugh.
“There’s fail safes in place dude, remember?”
“Yeah,” Joe agreed, feeling almost wistful. He knew that, of course he did. The staff at the gate had made that abundantly clear. “But. What if….” he trailed off, his mouth going dry, as Wes stared back, expression shuttering for a few seconds. “What if we wanted to pretend?”
Wes blinked twice, clearly confused. “Pretend….?”
“Yeah. That we can just…enjoy this space, alone? Just the two of us?”
The other man let out a sound, a little gasp, and then his mouth snapped shut. He kept walking but stayed quiet, avoiding Joe’s eyes, hands jammed into his pockets of his jacket, like he might find the secrets of the universe there.
Joe waited a few beats, as long as he could, then broke the silence himself. “I’m….sorry, I just wanted to have a moment alone with you. So we could talk.”
“Talk,” Wes repeated slowly, all calm and even toned, but still tense. He was so tense, it was impossible to hide. Joe could practically smell it, but he pushed on. If he didn't say what he needed to say now, he never would.
“Yeah. About that night, remember?”
Wes shot him a nervous glance and pressed his lips together. “Which….what night?” He was doing his best to conceal it, but there was tremor in his voice that told Joe he knew exactly.
With a sigh, Joe stopped walking and just stood in place, grateful when Wes stopped a beat later, looking over at him with wide eyes. His heart gave a little flutter.
“You know,” he said, holding Wes’ gaze. “That night. I mean, we were both pretty fucked up, but it’s etched into my brain and I could never forget it.”
Wes was watching him now, finally, turned to face him, not shying away anymore. Joe begged silently, to his friend, the gods, to The Universe, not to have to explain.
“The night we….” Wes started, breaking off. “Kissed?” He finished, in a near whisper. His Adam’s Apple bobbed and Joe traced the movement.
The two of them were just standing in that cube of green space, neither one moving. There were voices bouncing around from nearby, but no one else there with them, no one to invade their privacy.
“That’s the one,” Joe confirmed.
Wes looked down at his feet for a moment, gathering himself, and then looked up again, straight into Joe’s eyes.
“I've thought about it too. Like...an unhealthy amount."
Joe’s lips parted in shock. “Wha-really?”
“Mmhm. I’ve dreamt about it, actually,” Wes admitted with a huff. He looked away, scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t wearing one of his favorite caps, or a bandana today, and Joe was glad for it, glad for the chance to admire his hair. The same chestnut locks he had cut himself, a month and a half ago.
Joe smiled and leaned in. “Was it a good dream, then?”
“It was. Better than good.”
They were startled out of their moment as a young couple shuffled past them in the maze, laughing brightly.
“I hope it’s this way,” the girl said as the other two bustled past them, turning the corner and disappearing again.
Then it was silent again, just the two of them. Eyes locked. Joe let his eyes wander over the planes of Wes’ face. The slant of his high cheekbones, dusted faintly with pink. His plump lips. His big, dark eyes and long lashes.
God--he was fucking beautiful.
“So, that means you want it to happen again?” Joe managed, his own face heating up. He could tell his desire was obvious, and he couldn’t have cared less.
Wes just stared at him for a long moment and nodded slowly.
“Yeah. I…I’d like that.”
Joe grinned, and took a couple of steps closer. Wes stopped him, at the last minute with a hand on his arm.
"It's confusing, you know? I've never....been attracted to a man before."
Joe huffed. "So....yeah. We're in the same boat then. Maybe I'm just attracted to you."
Wes laughed under his breath. "Okay, then fuck. Kiss me."
Joe didn't hesitate, he sure as shit didn't need to be told twice.
Wes’ lips were soft, a bit chapped, but Joe couldn’t have cared less . He licked at the seam of Wes’ lips and he parted, opened to him. The other man tasted like cigarettes , the tequila they’d both been drinking, and something else, something a little spicier that Joe couldn’t quite describe. It was dark, and warm, and it made his eyes roll back in his head as he probed Wes’ mouth.
It was good. Far too good, even better than what he'd imagined, really, and then Wes pulled back, meeting his eyes.
“Nice,” Wes muttered, and Joe couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time.”
Joe went still, his whole body vibrating with desire, holding Wes’ gaze, because yeah. He knew then, that this was real, not a joke.
“Yeah, it was. Maybe we should do it again?”
Wes was grinning, shining and silky and gorgeous. Joe kind of wanted to eat him. "Yeah, I might be persuaded," he laughed.