Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

Crush // Sam & Danny

Warnings: none

Written as a gift for Lady lover, as part of 2020's A Very Kinky Rockfic Ficmas Fest. The prompt was 'Sam Kiszka,Danny Wagner (Greta Van Fleet): Literally anything except death.'

Inspired by real life, except I'm the one with the squeaky chair and there is no work crush. I can tell you that if Danny and Sam worked with me, I'd get absolutely nothing done.

—

Squeak.

Danny turned quickly, glaring down the aisle at the only other person in the office, the only person who would make such an irritating sound all the time–Sam. Sam, with the long, chestnut hair pulled up in a haphazardly made bun, with sharp cheekbones that caught the sunlight through the window as he passed Danny in the halls, with the long legs that forced him to sit awkwardly too far away from his desk half the time. Sam with that goddamn squeaky chair.

"You could just switch," Danny said loudly. He'd switched his chair a week ago, opting for one of the abandoned chairs that had better lumbar support from less frequent use.

"What?" Sam called back.

"Your chair," Danny said, gesturing in irritation. "You could switch it. It squeaks a lot."

"I like this one."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Sam laughed. "Nope. I don't even notice."

"Well, I do," Danny replied haughtily.

"Listen to some music," Sam chirped. "It's not like anyone else is here."

Yeah, that was the problem. Everyone else had migrated to working remotely. Only Danny and Sam had stayed behind and Danny didn't ask why. Sam didn't either. They silently accepted that it was just the two of them for the foreseeable future, the rest of the office barren and quiet. The only thing that ever intercepted that was Sam's squeaking chair, or the occasional laugh from his cubicle. God only knew what he looked at to create that loud guffaw that echoed through the place, punctuated by a squeak of that stupid chair.

Danny grumbled to himself and tried to continue with his work. His monotonous, seemingly never-ending work, made more boring by the fact that no one else was around. At least when the office was full, the sounds of chatter, clacking of keyboards, hum of the a/c, various beeps and near-constant footsteps on the floor blended into the background and created a symphony of white noise. He had learned to focus with that–with the squeaking chair and Sam's presence, not so much.

It was irritating. The chair, yes, but also the little crush Danny had on Sam. Sam had caught his eye the moment he stepped into the office, looking like the last person to ever take up a job in a place like that. A new adult who was willing to take a soul-sucking job to pay his rent, later to fully embrace being a white collar stiff? Sam didn't seem like the type. Danny imagined him lazing on a beach somewhere, selling handmade necklaces made of shells and grass out of a tent, or living in a beaten down RV somewhere in the desert, all tan skin and sweat. But Sam had stuck around and Danny's crush had grown, entranced by the gangly pretty boy who ended up working three cubicles down from him.

He needed to get over it. It was probably just quarantine-fueled loneliness anyway. Danny got up to go to the water cooler, a small break from the incessant squeaking of that chair. In the break room, however, as he bent over to fill his water bottle, he felt the presence of someone lurking behind him. Who else but Sam?

Danny's heart leaped when he turned around and saw him there. "Getting a lot done today?" Sam asked, chipper as ever, grabbing the coffee pot and moving toward the sink.