#love making jance make out in inappropriate places and then feel mildly embarassed about it

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

(in case tumblr ate it) jance, 17 🥰

yes it seems it did😔 here's what i was going to reply to you haha

tysm for your request jo 💜💜💜 i really enjoyed writing it!

also posted to ao3 here

He may not have known him for very long, but Jan has never seen Nace this nervous before. Yes, he had been shy when they first met (though Jan was shyer), yes he had been on edge before his first gig with them, yes he’d been quiet in the studio while they were recording Carpe Diem. Now, though, he isn’t tense and reticent, as he usually is when he’s anxious. No; he’s pacing up and down in the heavy silence of the RTV’s dressing room wringing his hands, jumping every time any of the others say or do anything, fiddling with the hem of his jacket, smoothing down his hair obsessively. These are nervous tics Jan has never seen from him before and it’s making him restless too. Watching Nace, he is filled with the urge to go over and wrap him in a crushing hug, as though he can leech away all his stress and anticipation with one touch.

Jan is used to taking comfort in Nace’s presence. He knows too that Nace takes comfort in him. They’ve been slowly exploring the something between them for the past few months, unable to hold back despite the knowledge that entering a relationship with a bandmate can get messy. He doesn’t want to rush things, doesn’t want to rock the boat, to overstep a boundary and cause an explosion. But he can’t sit here and watch Nace get more and more wound up with nerves just as they’re meant to go on stage.

Before he’s quite decided what the plan is, Jan suddenly finds himself standing. The other four all turn to face him and he almost shrinks under the combined weight of their attention, but he’s desperate for a moment alone with Nace, so he steels himself and gestures vaguely at Bojan, Kris, and Jure.

“You three, out,” he says abruptly, not quite able to make eye contact with any of them. He expects some kind of resistance, perhaps from Bojan, but they all obey him without a word, and he watches them leave in his peripheral vision from where he’s looking at the floor. There are a few brief moments after the door swings closed behind Kris in which neither Jan nor Nace say anything, and then Jan turns around. 

Nace looks somehow even more nervous now it’s just the two of them; he’s holding onto the back of the chair next to him as though he might fall over without its support. At the sight of him, Jan no longer has any qualms about what is needed and he crosses the floor without a word to gather Nace into his arms. Nace relaxes into him immediately, holding him tightly back, tipping his head down so his forehead is resting on Jan’s shoulder. They stand like this for several minutes, impossibly close and yet not close enough. Jan hopes that Nace is as calmed and reassured by the contact, by Jan’s warmth and familiar smell, as Jan is by him. He only loosens his grip when Nace stops shaking and steps back far enough that they can see each other’s faces, though he keeps his arms slung around Nace’s neck so he can’t pull too far away.

“Want to talk about it?”

Nace opens his mouth to answer but can’t find the words. Jan doesn’t interrupt, just gives Nace time to formulate what he’s trying to say. It takes a few long minutes, but eventually Nace is able to articulate himself. “It’s the first project I’ve worked on with you guys,” he says slowly, eyes downcast. “What if the fans don’t like my influence on your sound? What if they don’t think I fit your image?”

Jan leans in and bumps his forehead reassuringly against Nace’s. “Fuck the fans,” he says lowly, and it startles a laugh out of Nace. The sound makes something twist in Jan’s stomach. He loves hearing Nace laugh, loves the way he has so much joy to share and isn’t afraid of expressing it. “I mean it,” he repeats. “We like the way you create with us, we love this song. If our current fans don’t like it or don’t like you, then fuck them; we’ll make plenty of new fans through Eurovision.” 

Neither of them are as ambitious as Bojan and Kris are regarding fame or global exposure, but they all decided to go on this journey knowing that was the plan. Jan’s always been in it for the music; the unparalleled joy of creating music, those magical moments on stage when he becomes the music. But he can’t let Nace be afraid of their Eurovision journey before it’s even started.

Nace is still anxious and Jan can tell. He wants to address the other question Nace had posed, to reassure him, but now it’s his turn to be tongue tied and nervous. He wants to tell Nace how attractive he is, how his smile makes Jan’s heart skip a beat, that he wants to map Nace’s skin with his tongue and teeth, that he’s desperate to learn how to take him apart with just a few touches. But they’re taking it slow, trying not to rush into things, even though Jan knows his traitorous heart isn’t listening to reason.

So he does the only thing he can to ensure his tongue won’t betray his feelings; he steps back into Nace’s personal space and kisses him fiercely.

No matter how many times they kiss, Jan knows he will never tire of it. His entire universe at this moment is the heat of Nace’s mouth, the taste of him, the way he’s threading his fingers through Jan’s hair and sliding a hand down his back to pull him closer. Nace is pliant under Jan’s hands and tongue, willing to cede all control and let Jan do what he wants to him, and what Jan wants is to take him apart, to make him forget all traces of his nervousness for their upcoming performance. But they’re in their shared dressing room, where their bandmates or frankly anyone else could walk in, and as desperately as he wants to let go of all his inhibitions, he knows that would be far too reckless, and so, reluctantly, he pulls away. They’re both panting and a little unsteady on their feet, and Jan opens his eyes to take in Nace’s flushed cheeks and kiss-bruised lips. Willpower alone stops him from leaning back in to finish what they’ve started, and he can see clearly in Nace’s face the same desire.

“Was that a good enough distraction?” Jan asks, his voice unexpectedly husky.

“It wasn’t bad,” Nace admits breathlessly, and Jan can hear the smile in his voice. After a few long moments, Nace releases his tight grip on Jan’s shirt and steps back far enough that they can see themselves in the mirror. All Jan can think is that they’re lucky they haven’t gone to hair and make-up yet; they’re both so dishevelled that it’s obvious what they’ve been up to even without any telltale traces of smudged foundation. Nace reaches up to smooth down Jan’s hair again, and Jan leans instinctively into his touch. “I think we’ve got a different problem now,” Nace says wryly, and Jan is inclined to agree. Bojan, Kris, and Jure will surely be back any moment now and they’ll be sent off to hair and make-up; they can only hope their racing hearts will have time to slow before they’re called on stage.