Twit
by Shine

The view outside the bus window was beautiful, even darkened by the tinted glass. JC stared out through the window, legs draped over the side of the couch and one arm running along the cool glass, hand tucked between the wall of the bus and the cushions of the couch. Lance was sitting on the floor beside him, head a warm spot against JC's side, working on paperwork for a new act he was considering, and JC's other hand was in his hair, flexing absently.

The sun was setting out the window, and they were driving north from Santa Fe to Denver so he could see the clouds scudding along, glowing cream-gold and scarlet and purple down near the horizon, could see where the mountains rose stark and snowcapped and beautiful ahead of them. It was like a painting, he thought, a watercolor done in tints of rose and and granite and fluid sky blues fading to deep indigo where heaven met earth.

And right now, he was content.

Nowhere to be right now, nowhere to go, and nothing more important than this. Sitting at the window, watching the world age and turn.

Lance dropped his folder eventually, when the light had faded enough that JC was having trouble seeing anything in the bus, like the glass trapped and stored the light and refused to release it into the air. JC didn't look at him, shifted without comment when Lance climbed up onto the couch and slumped on JC's legs, his hand never leaving Lance's soft spiked hair.

"Where are we," Lance mumbled sleepily, wriggling a bit to get more comfortable, and JC shrugged.

" Not sure. Somewhere north of Pueblo?"

"Mmmm." Lance didn't sound bothered. He patted JC's leg softly, and JC ran a thumb down his neck lightly in response. "Mind?"

"Go ahead." Lance shifted again, rumbled something that might have been "thanks," and was quiet again, eyes closed and lashes a dark shadow over faintly-stubbled cheeks.

JC smiled down at his lap, threaded his hands into Lance's hair again, rubbed slowly. "You work too hard," he murmured softly.

"Do not," Lance yawned. "You're just lazy."

"Jerk," JC said, not sounding mad.

"Twit," Lance whispered back, and was smiling as he fell asleep.

JC went back to watching out the window, Lance's weight a warm comfort across his legs, Lance's hair thick and silky in his hand, Lance's voice still resonant in his ears.

Fin