Why is a traffic jam called a traffic jam?

The most obvious answer, and therefore the most boring, is that it's because the traffic is all jammed up there in one spot. A more interesting answer would be that it came from the synonym for jelly, and giant space aliens would take all this jammed-up traffic and spread it on their giant space sandwich and eat it for breakfast. Or something. Zeke knew full well that this explanation didn't make sense on a lot of levels, but right now he was too bored out of his brains to care.

They'd been standing in the same spot for hours. The exact same spot. No end in sight, no explanation. Just cars and cars and even more cars, increasingly annoyed people behind the steering wheels, and the falling dusk around them. They were nowhere near L.A. Zeke was pretty sure they wouldn't even reach Las Vegas before tonight.

Beside him, Neo was quietly fuming. Not raging, by some miracle or another. Not bitching either. Just sitting there behind the steering wheel, growing more and more antsy with every minute that passed.

"It's okay, Neo," Zeke said with as much patience as he could muster, given the situation. "We're still gonna make it in time for the release party, we're not that far from Vegas now."

Neo let out a very, very slow breath. He looked sorely tempted to bite the steering wheel and sink his teeth into the plastic, but for now he restrained himself. More or less. Zeke could see the muscles in his face twitching.

"There, there," he said magnanimously, half marveling at himself for trying to calm down Neo, but mostly smug about being the calm one for once. "Don't eat the steering wheel, Neo, we still need it."

To underline his words, he had reached over to pat Neo's arm, an admittedly risky endeavor. A little like trying to pet a very grumpy feral dog and hoping it would calm down instead of biting. But Neo, thankfully, didn't bite; he just froze, looking like his brain had glitched and frozen for several seconds.

"What," he said in an oddly robotic voice, "are you doing?"

Fascinated, Zeke patted him again, studying his reaction. "Calming you down," he said. "Is it working?"

"I am calm," Neo retorted, still talking in that weird tone of voice. Maybe his brain really had glitched, and he had gotten so angry that the emotive part of his brain was simply refusing to load.

"Are you sure?" Zeke replied, sizing him up and down. "You sound like a robot."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." Pulling his hand away, Zeke crossed his arms and imitated Neo's voice as best he could. "'What are you doing? I am calm. Beep-boop.'"

An uneven blush spread over Neo's face. "I do not sound like that!"

"Ah, there he is again." Zeke grinned, and Neo turned even redder. "What was that about? Do you turn into a robot when people pat your arm?"

Neo scowled. "Don't touch me."

"Come on, why the long face? There, there." Before Neo could pull away, Zeke reached over and patted his arm again. "Don't be so grumpy, Neo! Live a little!"

Under his hand, Neo went stiff once more. "Stop that."

"And robot Neo is back. Come on, say something else!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to," Neo said mechanically. "You're annoying."

Zeke simply continued to stare at him, grinning. Neo sighed.

"Beep-boop," he added under his breath.

Zeke burst out laughing. Neo blinked at him for a moment, then he slumped in defeat, cracking a smile himself, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. He was doing that thing again, Zeke thought, the one where he looked almost like a regular guy. His smile wasn't the usual charming masquerade he put on in front of fans and women he tried to seduce; it was an awkward thing, almost clumsy, his grin lopsided and his eyes crinkling in the most unphotogenic way. Or maybe just a way that couldn't be captured by a camera, because it was made to be experienced in person in moments like this.

…What was he thinking? It was almost like he liked this version of Neo. Which…well, maybe he did. The usual Neo was a stuck-up prick and a workaholic and an incurable attention seeker (to avoid using another word), but this particular Neo was almost someone Zeke could see himself being friends with.

"Wow," Zeke remarked when they had both calmed down a little. "I didn't know you could laugh."

"I didn't know you could be funny," Neo retorted, no longer smiling, but he did look a little less angry than before.

"Say what?" Zeke burst out in mock offense. "I'm the funniest guy in the band!"

Neo raised his eyebrows, but the corners of his mouth were still twitching with amusement. "Really?"

"What? You're too grumpy, Rowan's too depressed, and Sky is Sky." Zeke counted them off on his fingers. "Sure, Teddy can be pretty funny too, but let's be real. He doesn't count anyway."

Neo reached into the half-eaten bag of potato chips they had wisely bought at the gas station last night. "Because he's the drummer?"

"Well, duh," Zeke replied. "He's the drummer, nobody cares what drummers have to say. He's barely even in this band."

"And people listen to rhythm guitarists?"

Zeke pondered that.

"Not really," he admitted. "But at least I'm playing a cool instrument and he isn't."

Neo took another handful of chips and stuffed them into his mouth. He really did look like a regular dude, sitting there and crunching down on the only food they had left in the car, crumbs scattered around his mouth and grease staining his precious fingers. He hadn't bothered with makeup today either, his hair was a mess, his eyes lined with dark circles that could almost rival his beloved black eyeliner. This trip really suited him, Zeke thought. Not just because seeing him in a state he so clearly hated was a truly vindicating experience, but because he was finally starting to feel like a real, genuine person.

The thing with Neo was, Zeke had never liked him. Even when Rowan and Sky had first reached out to him where he had accompanied a volatile singer in a dingy basement venue, he had taken one look at his face and made up his mind. He hadn't liked the idea of there already being a guitarist in the band in the first place; and judging by the look on the guy's face, Neo hadn't wanted a second one either. The fact that his newfound rival was tall, brilliantly talented, popular and model-gorgeous hadn't helped; it had only served as a constant reminder that Zeke was basically up against some perfect superbeing who didn't even want him in the band.

Or so he had always thought, anyway. He was constantly learning new things about him on this trip. And road trip Neo was still annoying, but he was also human: sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated and neurotic and messy and terrified of birds of all things, and sometimes, very rarely, he was even capable of laughing. It was…nice, kind of. Not quite like having real friends, but better than Zeke had expected.

Did that mean he liked him? As a person…even a friend?

…Probably not.

But he didn't mind this whole thing as much as he'd thought he would, and for the time being that was as good as it got.

~ ~ ~

Traffic was slowly coming to life.

That was the good news. The bad news was that they were way behind schedule, again, and the lack of sleep from the past couple nights meant they couldn't just power through and drive through the night this time. No, massively delayed as they were,  tonight they needed to get themselves a hotel room or two and actually sleep. Probably in Vegas. It was the next big city they were going to reach, and Neo, for one, really didn't feel like searching the middle of nowhere for a decent hotel room for the third night in a row.

Well, technically the second, the more nitpicky part of his brain added. He hadn't exactly been awake for the search last night; that had all been Zeke alone. Whatever. They were both two parts of the same person anyway; why else would they be the only people in the band to play the same instrument?

The problem was just, this felt like a mockery. Neo had always loved the idea of Vegas, but he'd never actually made it there long enough to explore it at all. Each time he had come there, he had been on a tight schedule, too tight to get drunk (and for him, that was saying a lot) or hit any of the clubs, let alone seduce some pretty women or try his hand at gambling. And now, here they went again. No getting drunk, he had to drive; no partying, he had to drive; no pretty girls, he had to—wait, no, that reason didn't apply here. But still no girls. He had Zeke with him. And also, and he couldn't believe he felt like this either, for once he didn't want to.

Oh well.

Next time, he told himself, next time for sure. Maybe when this whole record release thing was over, he would actually give himself a weekend off and come back to Vegas and experience it properly. But not tonight. Tonight, he would be a boring, responsible adult and find a hotel room and go to sleep and wake up bright and early tomorrow.

Or that was the plan.

And in his defense, the fact that it didn't work out in the slightest was only partly his fault.