Sleeping
by Shine

It was late, it was dark, and Joey was wide awake.

He didn't know why; it wasn't like he'd planned it. It wasn't like he even particularly *wanted* it, he thought glumly, watching the road spin away beneath his headlights. He'd been up as long as the rest of them, a day beginning before dawn and ending after midnight, and he was tired too. It wasn't fair.

But at least he *was* awake, and therefore could be the designated driver. Too many times there'd been nights when Chris or JC had driven then to the next city, nodding off at the wheel and still sweating from that evening's concert. Joey was literally counting the days until they were high-profile enough to get a tour bus, and a driver.

But until then, this was what they had--a somewhat-stylish and not-too-crappy van with seating for eight, that couldn't really break a hundred kilometers because of a quirk in the brakes, but was big enough for all of them and drove pretty smoothly, and wasn't a manual--thank god--because only Chris could drive those. It could have been worse.

He checked his rearview mirror, peering into the sharp gloom of the backseat. Justin and Chris were wrapped up together in the far back seat, where the luggage filled the footspace and it was impossible to sit unless you were sitting crosslegged, but it made a fairly good-sized "mattress" for sleeping which was why they kept it that way. And someone was *always* sleeping in the van. They worked too hard, were all too tired, for someone not to take any opportunity they got for a nap.

Right now, Justin was half on top of Chris and drooling on his shirt, blond head startling against Chris's dark hair and clothes. Sometimes Joey forgot, what with the smooth professionalism and the polished talent and the height and muscles and that amazingly confident maturity, just how old Justin really was. But right now Justin was holding onto Chris's arm like it was a fucking stuffed bear or something, and was twitching slightly as he dreamed, and Joey was reminded that he was only fifteen.

Lance, who loved to cuddle when he was awake, was a pretty light sleeper, so he always slept alone. Right now he was leaning against the window, breath making little fog patterns as he exhaled, vanishing into nothing. He shivered a little, now and then. Lance always got cold when he slept. He was swathed in a blanket, a cheap cotton thing Chris had swiped from the airplane their first trip to Germany. The United Air logo on it was faded and almost gone from repeated washings, and it was actually a pretty crappy blanket, not very warm at all, but it was better than nothing, and free, and soft.

JC was slumped in the passenger-side door of the van, on the far end of the bench seat. As the offical navigator for this leg of the trip, he was actually awake, although Joey doubted how genuine that wakefulness was. Whenever he glanced over, though, JC always looked back at him, eyes glittering in the headlights of oncoming traffic. He looked dazed, tense and wired and exhausted. Joey reached over and brushed a hand across his thigh.

"Go to sleep," he said gently. JC shook his head.

"We're more than two hours away, man," Joey said softly. "I'll wake you when we get there, okay? I know I stay on this highway the whole time; I won't get lost. I promise." JC started to say something, and yawned instead.

"I'm okay," Joey said. And he touched him again, this time running his hand up JC's thigh to his hip, curling around his waist, hooking his belt. "Come here, yeah?" he tugged and JC resisted for a minute then gave in, falling down to rest his head on Joey's thigh, bringing his legs up to curl on the bench. And he was skinny enough to get away with it, Joey thought fondly, feeling the reassuring weight of JC's head and neck, sliding his hand from JC's waist to feel broad shoulders shifting as JC searched for a comfortable position. He moved his hand to JC's head, stroking his hair, and felt JC finally relax, collapse into sleep.

He drove into the night, watching signs in German streak by, pacing the crescent moon outside his window, JC's breathing soft in his ears, damp and warm against his thigh.

Justin whimpered in his sleep, and Chris responded, making a shushing sound without ever waking up. There was the rustle of clothing being stroked and Justin subsided, and Joey smiled, focusing on the road.

So maybe it wasn't always bad, being awake.

Fin