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hearts-hunger · 2 years ago

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four weddings and a funeral — part one

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫

Series Summary: You and Danny haven't spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: The last place you ever expected to see him again was a funeral.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining | Word Count: 3.6k | Chapter Warnings: smoking, drinking, funerals

A/N: Danny's cabin fic! The real one! I'm hoping this one goes better than Wild and Blue - I'm sorry again for abandoning it, but I hope this one makes up for it. Also, this fic has nothing to do with the movie of the same title; I haven't seen it, and I just liked the idea of social events pushing a couple together. I hope you like it, my loves! ♡

Of all the places to be without a lighter, you decided this was one of the worst.

You fished around in your little crossbody bag, already knowing you didn’t have one but hoping you’d get lucky. The American Spirit between your lips was stained with the most neutral lipstick you could find; you figured there was no use looking glamorous for a funeral, and you’d gone for an understated look when dressing in your plain black cocktail dress earlier.

You gave a frustrated huff. You hated funerals, and you’d only gone to this one because your mom hadn’t wanted to make the drive alone. The visitation service was for the relative of a friend of hers from years ago; you didn’t even know her name. You’d made sure your mom was settled talking about the good old times with a few of her friends before you’d stepped out to get a little nicotine in your system.

But, no lighter, no luck. You abandoned your search, leaning on the railing of the gazebo that stood on a hill out behind the funeral home.

You hadn’t been standing there two seconds before cigarette smoke wafted past you, and you frowned in confusion. Looking down, you saw someone standing at the foot of the gazebo, leaning back against the post. He held a lit cigarette in his hand.

“Hey!” you called.

He tilted his head back and looked up at you from under a mop of curly brown hair.

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I borrow your lighter?” you asked. You came down the stairs and around to the side where he stood without waiting for an answer, and he held his lighter out for you without protest.

“Thank you,” you said, returning it to him and taking a drag. You felt a brief sensation of butterflies when your hand brushed his; he was young, about your age, and almost too pretty to be somewhere so ordinary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said.

He chuckled. “No problem.” He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. “Needed a break from all the fun inside, huh?”

You gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not a huge fan of funerals.”

He raised a brow. “No? That’s strange. Most people love them.”

“Okay,” you conceded, and you couldn’t help but smile when he gave a soft laugh. There was something oddly familiar about him, though you didn’t have the faintest idea where you could have seen him before.

“Were you close with... uh, the deceased?” you asked. You felt bad that you couldn’t remember her name and felt heat rise to your face. “My mom was friends with the family years ago, so I’m kinda just here for moral support.”

He brushed a wayward curl back from his face.

“Her name was Janet Baker,” he said. “She was a really old lady who lived a good, long life, so it’s not so terrible to see her go. She was ready.”

“Did you know her well?” you asked.

He shrugged. “She was a friend of my grandparents’. My mom spent a lot of time with her. I didn’t really know her, I guess, but it’s nice to see how many people loved her.”

You hummed in agreement. “That is nice.” You finished your cigarette and looked around for a place to throw it out. Your mystery friend held out his hand.

“There’s an ashtray up by the back door,” he said. “I’ll take yours when I take mine.”

“Oh,” you said, putting it in the palm of his hand. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t even introduce myself before I accosted you for a lighter,” you said with a nervous smile. “I’m — ”

“I know who you are, sunshine.”

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody had called you that. It had been over a decade, certainly, and in fact the only person who ever had called you that was a skinny thirteen year old boy who lived down the street from you when you were in eighth grade.

“Danny?” you asked, incredulous.

He grinned, flashing that millionaire smile he’d had even when you were kids. “Yep.”

You stepped back and shamelessly looked him over head to toe, all six-and-some-odd feet of him. He spread his arms and did a twirl for you.

“Not too bad, huh?” he asked.

You almost didn’t know what to say. You’d always figured he’d be a good looking boy, but seeing him now — he’d grown into that lankiness, all broad and strong and lean. His curls were bouncy and healthy, streaked with blonde highlights; his features were dark, defined, and beautiful.

“Uh, no,” you said stupidly. “You look... great.”

His smile was a little crooked. “You’re not too bad yourself, sunshine.”

You were surprised at the flood of butterflies you felt. You’d had a crush on him all those years ago, and it seemed that it had grown up with you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” you said. Granted, it was kind of bizarre to run into him again after all these years, especially at a funeral.

He shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve actually been trying to look as different from middle-school me as possible, so I’m glad it’s working.”

You laughed. “I can understand that.”

He shook his head. “No way. You were always going to be beautiful, sunshine. Even back then.”

You blushed vividly, a surprised and nervous giggle escaping you. “Oh, well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

His smile was too genuine and warm for him to be teasing you, and you allowed yourself to enjoy his compliment. You couldn’t let yourself get too far down the rabbit hole, though; you were in a place in your life where you’d be likely to take any attention that was offered, even if it wasn’t in your best interest.

You smoothed your hands over your skirt and tried to think of something intelligent to say. You’d almost settled on something when you felt a drop of rain on your shoulder; you looked up towards the darkening sky and felt a few more drops on your face.

“It’s raining,” you said.

You looked back at Danny to see him watching you with a gentle, decidedly interested gaze.

“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.

You were a little lost in his pretty hazel eyes. Had they always been that dreamy?

“No,” you said. “I...”

All of a sudden, the heavens opened; rain came fast and heavy, and you would have been drenched if Danny hadn’t grabbed your hand and ran with you around the side of the gazebo and up the stairs. You stopped, a little breathless and damp, under the shelter of the roof while rain poured down around you.

You brushed your wet hair from your face. “It sure is a gullywasher, huh?”

He laughed, and the sound was sweet and musical. “A what?”

You smiled. “A gullywasher,” you said. “A heavy rain that usually doesn’t last that long.”

“I’ve never heard that before,” he said, amused. “But I’m filing it away for future use.”

“I’m pleased to be of service,” you said. The two of you made your way to a bench on the opposite side of the gazebo. “I teach vocabulary for a living, though, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge you for that information.”

He raised a brow. “Is that so?” He angled himself towards you on the bench. “And just how much does that word cost, sunshine?”

You smirked. “Give me a swig of whatever’s in that flask you’re hiding, and we’ll call it even.”

“Me, hiding alcohol at a funeral?” he said, aghast. He pulled the flask you’d noticed earlier out of his inside jacket pocket as he spoke. “Do you always assume the worst about people, or am I just special?”

“Whichever one makes you feel better,” you said, taking a drink when he offered it to you. The oaky sweet taste of bourbon spread a pleasant warmth through you that warded off the chill of the rain.

“So, you said you teach vocabulary for a living,” he said, taking the flask when you handed it back and having a drink of his own. “Does that mean you’re a teacher? Or some kind of weird freelance vocabulary tutor?”

You smiled. “I’m a teacher. Elementary school.”

“That’s great,” he said sincerely. “I bet your students love you. How long have you been teaching?”

The two of you talked for a long while as the rain continued unabated, passing the flask back and forth occasionally. He was eager to hear about your life since you’d parted on the cusp of high school, and you found him a more attentive and interested listener than most of the guys you’d ever tried to tell your life story to.

“Enough about me, though,” you said, when you couldn’t think of one more interesting thing to say about your job or your tiny apartment or your failed and infrequent attempts at dating. “I want to know what you’ve been up to, Danny.”

He looked a little bashful, then, and it endeared him to you.

“Well, you remember how I was always messing around with my garage band?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. The neighbors loved you guys, turning your speakers up as loud as possible when you were playing.” You’d always liked the rock n’ roll they played, but you’d never been brave enough to ask if you could sit and watch them practice.

“Your bandmates were brothers, weren’t they?” you asked. “What was their last name again?”

“Kiszka,” he said. “The twins, Josh and Jake, and their brother Sam who’s my age.”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering well the matched trio that had taken up all of Danny’s time that wasn’t spent with you. “Are you still in touch with them?”

“I am,” he said. “We actually play professionally now.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, sincere and polite, figuring playing professionally meant they had a semi-regular gig somewhere local.

His smile was knowing. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure I do,” you protested. You shivered a little as a cool breeze started to cut through the rain.

“We’re bigger than you think we are,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was trying to stroke his ego so much as he was trying to convince you of the fact. He shrugged his suit jacket off and draped it over your shoulders.

“What band would you guess we’re kind of in the same popularity bracket as?” he asked.

You were a little embarrassed at being caught out with what he thought was fake enthusiasm, not wanting to hurt his feelings but still unsure he could be as famous as he claimed to be. Wouldn’t you have known if your childhood friend had made it big?

“I don’t know,” you hedged. You burrowed into his jacket, his warmth and the smell of his cologne a heady mix. “I don’t really listen to the stuff on the radio these days.”

“But you know popular songs,” he pressed. “You don’t live under a rock.”

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“Can I play you one of our songs?” he asked. “Just to see if you’ve ever heard of us?”

You smiled. “Go for it.” You were curious to see if you had ever heard it, but you still held your doubts. His band might have been big in the indie scene or something you had no knowledge of, but that wouldn’t do you much good.

He pulled out his phone, hiding the screen from you so you couldn’t see what he was searching. After a moment, the first few notes of a guitar lick started to play, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said, giving him a dry smile. “Now show me your song.”

“This is my song,” he said, looking for all the world to be absolutely serious.

“That’s not your song,” you scoffed. “That’s Greta Van Fleet.” You decided to tease him if he was so intent on teasing you. “And if you don’t show me your song, I’ll just assume you were making the whole thing up to impress me.”

He only laughed. “I hope it did impress you, but I’m not making it up. This is my song. I’m the drummer for Greta Van Fleet.”

You have him a fondly exasperated look, over the joke by now. “Sure. And I’m the lead singer.”

Danny grinned. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?” He gestured to your bag. “Humor me. Get out your phone and look it up.”

You gave a dramatic sigh and pulled your phone out, googling “Greta Van Fleet members”. The page took a moment to load.

“So?” he asked.

“It’s loading,” you told him.

When the page finally popped up, you had to read it more than once to believe what you saw. There it was, in black and white: Daniel Wagner, dum kit.

“You’re not...” You looked up at Danny. “You’re — you’re really the drummer for fucking... Greta Van Fleet?”

“Minus the ‘fucking’ part,” he said. “We tried to pitch it to the label, but they shot us down.”

You could only laugh.

“How can you — Danny, how the hell can you be so nonchalant about this? You’re, like, famous famous.”

He chuckled. “I told you. Do you like our music?”

“Yeah,” you said sincerely. “I mean, I’m obviously not a mega fangirl for them, uh, for you, if I didn’t even know your names, but...” You grinned up at him, too charmed by his down-to-earth warmth to feel very starstruck. “I think your music’s some of the coolest stuff to come out since they invented classic rock.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sunshine. That’s sweet of you to say. I’m glad you like it.”

You shivered again, and he reached over and buttoned his jacket around you.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to give you,” he said. “We can go in if you’re too cold.”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly. You blushed. “I mean... I like sitting out here with you.”

He gave a soft laugh. “I like sitting out here with you, too.” He lit another cigarette, leaning his arm on the railing. “So, sunshine, I gotta know... what’s your favorite Greta song?”

“Hm... I’ll have to think about that one,” you said with a teasing smile. “I really like that one everybody says is a Zeppelin rip-off.”

He rolled his eyes with a long-suffering smile. “Which one?”

You laughed. “I think it’s called ‘Flower Power’. It’s very romantic.”

“I wrote the guitar solo for that one, actually.”

Your smile was delighted and surprised. “Did you really? I thought you said you played the drums.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But I know enough about guitar to write some stuff here and there.” He shook his head. “Jake’s an incredible guitarist. He took what I wrote and made it fantastic when we recorded the song.”

You liked the way affection and admiration softened his features. “What do the others play?”

“Sam plays bass and keys,” he said. “He plays piano like nobody I’ve ever seen. Josh — ” He laughed, like he’d remembered an inside joke. “Josh likes to say he plays the vocals.”

You smiled. “So he’s the Robert Plant devotee.”

Danny chuckled. “You should hear his vocals now. It’s really amazing to hear his growth as a vocalist.” He angled his exhale of smoke away from you. “We did mimic a lot of Zeppelin’s style on our first album, and I wouldn’t change it, but I think we’re starting to come into our own sound. It’s exciting to be experimenting with different stuff and figuring out what we like. Our last album went a different direction to what we’d been doing before, that classic rock kind of thing, and I think it turned out really cool.”

“Sure,” you said, a little dreamy. There was something so alluring about the sound of his voice, the interest in his expression when he spoke. You felt that he could be reading a phone book and you’d be invested in it.

“You’re very polite to listen to me go on and on about it,” he said, sincerity and warmth in his tone. “I must be boring you to tears.”

“Not at all,” you said, shaking yourself out of your dreaminess. You felt your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. I’m just... still reeling from the fact that we bumped into each other after so long, and that you turned into a rock star since I last saw you.” That was partially true, anyway. You wouldn’t spill that you’d been daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss him for longer than was strictly appropriate.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Maybe it’s fate that we met again,” he said. “What do you think?”

You didn’t say that it would be just the kind of cruel trick fate would play on you to bring you back the guy you’d always crushed on and have him turn out to be a rock n’ roll god that women threw themselves at in every city.

“Maybe it is,” you said with a smile.

“We should keep in touch after this, so we can stay up to date on major life changes.”

You breathed a laugh. “Yeah. I’ll give you a call when I play Madison Square Garden.”

Danny put out his cigarette and looked out towards the funeral home where people were starting to gather out on the porch. The rain was beginning to taper off; ladies in their shiny black shoes were starting to brave the wet grass to get to their cars.

“Looks like people are starting to leave,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. He looked back to you. “I was serious about getting your number, if you’d like to share it with me. I’ve had a great time catching up with you.”

“Me too,” you said. You put your number in his phone when he handed it to you, and your fingers brushed again when you handed his phone back.

You stood, and you had the strangest feeling of something slipping through your fingers.

“Hey, Danny,” you said, hesitant. He watched your face with patience and interest and waited for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long you’re in town,” you said, nervously fidgeting with a pull in the skirt of your dress. “You probably have somewhere to jet off to, thousands of adoring fans to see...”

He gave a soft laugh, and it gave you a little spark of bravery as you looked up and met his eyes.

“Do you want to get coffee or something this week?” you asked. “I’m off on spring break, and... well, I don’t know. It might be nice. Maybe.”

He smiled, but there was something less than happy in it that made your spirits sink.

“I’d love to,” he said, and you almost thought he meant it. “But I do have kind of a busy week — I'm trying to cram as much into this break as possible, you know?”

You nodded. “Right, of course,” you said quickly, trying not to let it show how much you’d really, really wanted him to say yes or of course or let me move around my entire rock-god schedule just to have coffee with you. Something along those lines.

He fidgeted a little, like he was upset he’d hurt your feelings.

“Let me take a look, okay?” he said, and you hated the thought that he was saying it out of pity instead of any real desire to see you again. “I’ll text you.”

You smiled, but it was a little strained. “Sure.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course the drummer for Greta Van Fleet wasn’t going to get coffee with you.

“Can I walk you back inside?” he asked.

“Um...” You saw your mom among the people on the porch. She waved at you, and you waved back.

“I should probably just go meet her by the car,” you said to Danny, feeling shy around him for the first time. Shooting your shot and getting let down gently would do that to you. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” he said. He walked with you as far as the gazebo steps. “Thanks for talking to me, sunshine. I’m glad you didn’t have a lighter.”

You couldn’t help a soft laugh. “Me too.”

You didn’t look back as you made your way over to the porch, and your mom was excited to see you when you came up to her.

“I see you found Danny,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “His mom and I talked for a long time inside.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” you asked, walking with her to your car.

She shook her head. “I had no idea. But it was nice to see them again, wasn’t it?”

You got in the passenger seat and leaned your head against the window. “Yeah, it was nice.”

You were halfway home before you realized you were still wearing Danny’s jacket. You felt terrible; you reached for your phone to text him and saw he’d already texted you.

Hey, you stole my jacket! I guess we’ll just have to meet up so I can get it back ;)

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to feel that fluttery warmth that was sneaking its way into your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

Read part two!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep

fic taglist: @mydarlingdanny @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#i hope you like this one besties!! let me know what you think <3 #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fluff #gvf fanfiction #danny wagner fanfiction #danny wagner #four weddings and a funeral fic #maddie writes stuff!

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