Times Of Our Lives
by Shine

Justin picked unenthusiastically at his food. The florescent light turned his skin vaguely greenish, and the dim flickering of the bulb over the door was giving him a headache. The music wasn't bad, except it was way too soft, and you couldn't really hear it. JC was chewing grimly on his salad, and Joey had given up ten minutes ago on his fried chicken and was stealing JC's croutons.

Justin tried not to look at his own plate, where congealed meatloaf battled greyish mashed potatoes for dominance, and both were being overtaken by something bright yellow and smelly that he suspected was squash.

He hated squash.

There was a drawn-out creak from the back of the resturaunt, a wheezy slam, and Chris and Lance came around the corner, Chris wiping his hands on his pants and leaving damp streaks. "Hey," he said, slumping into their booth, looking like death warmed over. He'd gotten food poisoning the week before, and it was taxing energy already undermined by the brutal touring schedule.

Joey slid over to give him and Lance room, and Chris immediately leaned sideways onto him and closed his eyes. Joey's mouth twisted, and he looked up at Justin, who shrugged helplessly.

"You okay?" Justin asked tentatively. Chris sighed and nodded, his hair scuffing on Joey's sweater until it was twice as crazy as it had been before. Lance had his hand behind Chris, moving gently, and gave Justin a reassuring glance.

"He's all right. The french fries were probably a bad idea, though," he added, nudging Chris gently. Chris snorted into Joey's arm and ignored him.

"Especially with mayonnaise," JC added, holding something dark green and squishy up for their consideration. "This is quite possibly the worst place I've ever eaten at," he added, grimacing, and dropped it onto a napkin along with a yellowish slice of tomato. Joey made appropriately grossed-out noises, and Lance smiled, bending his head down to Chris and kissing his shoulder. "Whose bright idea was it to come to Cracker Barrel anyway?"

Lance laughed. "Hey, it's not usually this bad--this is what you get when you go to a Cracker Barrel in the middle of Germany." Joey rolled his eyes.

"Lance," he said with extreme patience, "JC's salad is growing new life. I don't care if this is *Neptune*, that ain't right." Chris laughed weakly, and Lance ran a careful hand over his back.

Justin gave his plate one last look, felt his stomach turn, and pushed it away. "Let's get out of here," he said, and JC was out of the booth before he'd finished the sentence. The bus was right where they'd left it, a solid monolith in a fuzzed night, and he climbed on quickly, hearing Lance and Chris behind him, whispering quiet in the dark. He didn't look back.

On the bus, he went straight to the back to change, and when he came back out they were already asleep, sprawled out on the couch, Lance tucked underneath Chris, bodies curving together like they'd been born that way.

Justin went to Lance's bunk for a blanket for them, then settled down on the couch next to them and turned on the TV. The bus fell forward along the road, muffled roar of tires and engines, and eventually Justin fell asleep to the sound of breathing harmony, the warmth of his brothers gentle against his back.

Fin