Laid Up

By Kim G.

At first he didn't hear the knock on the door; was too busy feeling sorry for himself, staring at his foot, propped up on a pile of pillows. When it penetrated, through the badly-dubbed German version of "Smokey and the Bandit", and his own self-pity party, JC struggled mostly upright and muttered quietly, "go away."

He thought maybe whoever was on the other side of the door heard him, because there was no more knocking for a moment, and he sank back against the pillows propping his upper body up, feeling sad and pitiful and lonely. They all went out without him. Even Justin, though he wasn't supposed to. JC glared at his foot again, and wiggled his toes spitefully, gasping when pain lanced through his foot and ankle.

"Stupid fuck," he muttered, but he wiggled them again. Stupid, was what it was. Tripping over his own feet going down the hotel steps. God, what an idiot.

The knock was louder this time, and so was he. "Go away. I'm not here."

"Jayce." Shit. Joey. He sighed. He didn't want anyone in here, especially Joey. Not when he could still feel the strength in his arms, when Joey carried him back into the hotel, and up to his room. Not when he could still feel the heat of Joey's body, where they'd been pressed together. Not when he could still feel the soft touch of big hands cradling his sore, swollen ankle, and dark eyes looking like liquid when they touched him. Joey knocked again and JC resigned himself. Everyone thought Chris was persistent, but--. "C'mon, man, don't make me stand out here like a dork."

He rolled his eyes and shifted against his pillows, but knew Joey was being polite. "You've got the key. Come in, already."

His eyes were still liquid dark, JC thought, when Joey tossed the key on the dresser then turned to him. Deep, rich chocolate, like the kind they could only find over here in Germany. The sort that made Hershey's taste like cardboard. Joey watched him for a moment, then sat hesitantly on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle JC's ankle.

"How're you doing, man? Need anything?"

"No. I'm fine." He wanted to be left alone. Doped up on pain pills and in love with his best friend, was not a good combination. He didn't want to say something stupid. Something that might lose him his friend. "Thought you guys all went out?"

"They did. I--stayed. In." Joey shifted, eyes darting around the room. "Can I--uh. Get you anything?" He shifted again and banged his hand against JC's ankle.

"Ow! Joe--"

"Sorry, man, sorry. I'm sorry. Fuck." Joey practically leapt off the side of the bed when JC yelped, then stood there, awkwardly, beside it. JC winced and reached down to rub his ankle gently, hating that all he could feel was a continual, throbbing ache. Even the pain pills the doctor'd given him -- and he hated the funny little prescription bottle, with it's long-assed German words that he didn't understand -- only worked for just so long. And the one he'd taken earlier was starting to wear off.

"It hurts," he sighed quietly.

"I thought you had pills. Um. For the pain." Joey stood there looking at him, watching him, until JC wanted to scream WHAT?. "Didn't you take one?"

"They only last for a while." He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to put Joey at ease. He looked so--sad. "You know, it's not like it was your fault I fell. You didn't push me or anything. I tripped over myself."

"I should've caught you."

JC laughed. "Joey, you were three steps behind me. How--?"

"Still." He paced the small length of the bed. "I should've."

"You're not really Superman, y'know." JC bit his lip. "But--thanks. I mean. Y'know. For thinking it."

"Um." Joey stopped in front of him again, and JC realized he had chocolate-chip eyes. The kind that made you feel safe and warm and loved. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Joey's voice washed over him, comfortable and soothing. "Jayce? You okay? Need me to--I don't know. Do anything? Get someone?"

JC opened his eyes, met Joey's. He looked so awkward, so uncertain. "I. Uh. Yeah, actually. Can you help me up? I need--y'know. Bathroom."

"Oh. Um, yeah." Joey waited while JC swung his legs carefully off the pillows and onto the floor, then reached to help JC stand up. "Can you put any weight on it?"

"Not really--" JC gritted his teeth and took a limping step forward, letting Joey support him. They took one awkward step forward, then a second, and slowly made their way to the bathroom. "God, this is…hideous." JC panted, when they stopped at the threshold to the bathroom, so he could lean against the door and catch his breath. "How'm I going to dance tomorrow?"

"I'm thinking 'not'." Joey turned his back while JC hopped over to the toilet. "There's no way, man. You're like, all in pain."

"I don't have a choice. Lou's never gonna cancel a week's worth of shows." JC glumly considered his ankle, unable to support him long enough even to take a leak.

"So we'll all refuse to perform." Joey, strong in his convictions. JC smiled.

"And what? Get him mad at all of you? Nah. I'll just have to manage." He flushed and turned away from the toilet, intending to wash his hands. He didn't intend to whack his ankle against the porcelain bowl, which hurt so bad it made him dizzy, made bright spots of color dance in front of his eyes. He reached out blindly, voice hoarse. "Joey--"

"Fuck, man." And those strong arms were there again, catching him, holding him, pulling him tight against a warm, so warm body. He hung on until the spots receded, until the world didn't spin any more, and then it spun for different reasons, a different sort of pain, one that squeezed his heart and made it ache. "Gotcha, Jayce. I got you."

And he did. And JC clung for a minute longer than necessary, shamelessly wanting to hold onto that strength; to have that strength holding on to him.

It was sweet, really, how careful Joey was, walking him back to the bed, pushing the pillows over and re-arranging them, settling JC carefully on the bed. JC didn't even mind when Joey bumped his ankle once, making him wince again. He ignored the pain and leaned back against the pillows, patted the spot beside him hesitantly. Joey was hovering beside the bed again.

"Sit down with me? We can finish watching the movie."

Joey grinned, something like relief shining from his eyes. "Yeah, because this is such an awesome movie and the German voices are so realistic for southern truck-drivers."

JC giggled and nudged Joey with his elbow. "The Germans don't know they're not realistic."

"They would if they'd actually watched the movie." But he settled down on the bed beside JC, letting his feet hang off the side. "So I don't kick you," he said quietly, when JC pointed and raised an eyebrow.

After a while Joey relaxed back, letting their shoulders touch, and JC could smell the warm, slightly spicy scent of cologne-deodorant-shampoo-Joey. He breathed in deeply and it was better than any painkiller; it filled his lungs, warmed his body, made him forget -- briefly -- that his ankle ached and throbbed. He tilted his head and smiled when Joey handed him a glass of water and another pill; got a beautiful smile in return. Chocolate-chip eyes. Hot chocolate smile.

Warmth danced through him, rippled in waves like the ocean against the beach, until JC realized it wasn't just his imagination. Joey's hands, cradling his ankle, fingers stroking lightly, gently, pressing just enough to ease a little of the ache, to move the pain around and make things feel vibrant and alive, rather than achy and sore.

"Joey--" It came out as more a sigh, than an actual word, but Joey's fingers stilled, and he glanced over at JC.

"Am I…does it hurt? I wanted to make it feel better."

"You are." JC bit his lip on the soft groan that wanted to work its way out. It did feel good, even if it kind of hurt. It was a good hurt, that sort of twinging feeling like when muscle knots got worked out.

JC relaxed back against his pillows again and half closed his eyes, losing himself in the pleasure/pain of Joey's fingers touching, kneading, stroking. When Joey set his ankle back onto the pillows and leaned back, he was closer than he'd been before, one arm stretched out across the back of the headboard, cradling JC against him, and that made it worth not having him touch any more.

The pill kicked in and made JC drowsy, so he leaned against Joey and closed his eyes, drifting in and out happily, lulled by the sounds of the TV and Joey's breathing. It was a nice place to be, this happy, warm, sleepy place, where he ached, but in a good way. A sudden break in the movie, a moment of silence, startled him mostly awake. Just enough to half-open his eyes, look over at the man laying beside him.

The Superman pendant caught the weak lamplight, made it shine and sparkle, then drew it in so the light could shine against Joey's chest. JC forgot about the movie, watched the way the light wavered and moved in time to Joey's breathing, to the gentle rise-and-fall motion. He saw Joey turn his head, heard the words -- a question? -- but couldn't make himself focus on anything but the soft breathy sounds and the warmth beside him, and the way Joey just looked perfect with that light shining on him, from him.

"Joey." He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Joe turned his head, a half-smile curving his mouth. And then he couldn't think at all, about anything except how beautiful Joey was, how he could drown in those dark, liquid brown eyes, how just looking at Joey made the ache in his ankle disappear, drawn in and swallowed by the love and need expanding inside him. "I--" He licked his lips and watched Joey's eyes drop to his mouth, follow his movements. He shivered inside and did it again, the cool rush of air over damp skin making his mouth feel prickly and tight.

"Jayce?" Joey's voice was husky, uncertain, but he raised his hand and cupped JC's cheek, and JC closed his eyes and shivered again, his head bobbing in a quick, slight nod, knowing the question, needing the answer.

"Please."

The first press of Joey's mouth to his was so sweet it was agonizing, in a way. Hesitant, careful, like he was fine china or crystal that would break if touched too firmly. His lips tingled and burned where Joey's breath eased over them, warm and a little moist, mingling with his. He sighed and pressed back a little harder, reaching up to loop one arm around Joey's neck, pulling him closer. A whisper of wetness brushed over tender skin, the tip of Joey's tongue teasing at the seam between his lips, and JC whimpered and opened slowly, groaning softly in his throat when Joey flicked his tongue deeper, licking around the inside of his mouth, teasing and tasting him.

Joey pulled back then, breathing a little faster, and rested his forehead against JC's, eyes shining brilliantly. JC thought they were maybe the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. He closed the distance between them and kissed Joey again, mouth partly open, just a quick lick over pinkening lips.

"I wondered if you'd taste like chocolate," he whispered, almost against Joey's mouth, fingers curling into Joey's hair.

"Why?" His whole face smiled when he was happy; JC felt one curve his mouth in answer.

"Because you have chocolate chip eyes, and you're warm and comfortable, like hot chocolate, so you should taste like chocolate." His voice never rose above a whisper, and JC traced his words over Joey's mouth with the tip of his tongue, with moist, warm breath, his lips becoming Joey-sensitive and still wanting more.

"You're loopy," Joey grinned, pressing his mouth against JC's again, harder, more demanding, teeth scraping lightly, tongue following to soothe, to tease. JC shivered and stroked the back of Joey's neck, leaned into the kiss.

"Yeah…" JC lay backward against the pillows, pulling Joey with him, over onto him. Not fully, not in the positions they were in, but enough to feel the hard, warm press of his body; to feel the harder, hotter length beginning to press against his thigh. "Loopy for you," he muttered before diving into Joey's mouth.

Strong fingers stroked through his hair, and JC found himself wishing briefly, desperately, that his hair was still longer; that there was something there for Joey to wind his fingers into, to pull gently and hold onto. Then Joey was pressing harder against him, and the kiss turned hot, hungry, aching need blazing up between them. He groaned when Joey abandoned his mouth to nip and lick along his jawbone; the groan turned to a growl when warm lips touched his neck, and teeth pinched into his skin. He shuddered and reached to pull Joey tighter against him.

"Taste good," Joey panted softly against his neck. JC felt ripples of sensation trickle through his skin and into his blood, filtering all through him. It made him prickly and hot and he rubbed up against Joey, groaning again when the prickles increased, rushing through him. "Jayce--your ankle--"

"What ankle?" He pulled Joey back to him, twisted enough so they could rub together, bodies shaking already, first tremors starting. "Don't feel nothin' but this," he whisper-kissed into Joey's mouth, before he couldn't speak any more.

Joey groaned something then bucked against him, hard, and when sharp teeth bit into his lip, then again into his neck, JC shuddered and arched, coming hard, the sharp sound he made swallowed when Joey took his mouth again. Joey lurched his hips forward and JC heard the low growl, then a flood of damp warmth against him that wasn't his, and he shuddered again, knowing Joey'd come as well.

They lay slumped against each other for a few minutes, breathing slowly easing, until JC was reminded suddenly that yes, his ankle did hurt, and twisted under Joey to find a more comfortable position. Joey shifted sleepily, moving slightly over to the side, and reached out to touch JC's hair, sliding his hand down the length of JC's arm to twine their fingers together.

"You okay, Jayce?" Even his voice sounded rich, liquid chocolate, tinged with sleep. Better than Starbucks' Hot Chocolate with whipped cream. JC squeezed Joey's hand and smiled, forcing his head to nod rather than just loll.

"Mmm…tired," he muttered, eyes mostly closed. It was kind of gross to think about falling asleep with wet, sticky shorts, but what the hell. He didn't care enough to make the effort to move. "Stay here with me?"

"Try and get me to move." Joey snorted softly, and JC opened his eyes enough to see Joey's were closed. He squeezed his fingers again, lightly, and got an answering squeeze, and then it was just too much effort to make himself stay awake any more.

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Soft voices -- American, not German, so not the TV -- brought JC slowly awake sometime later, though not enough to bother with opening his eyes. It was warm, cuddled up against Joey, and every breath he took was scented with Joey, making him feel comfortable, comforted, safe. His own personal Superman.

"Shh. Don't wake 'em up." Chris, near the bed it sounded like. "At least we know where Joe got to."

"Hey, look." Lance's voice, deep and rumbly, even in a whisper, made a small smile curve across JC's lips. "Look at 'em, Chris."

JC didn't have to have his eyes open to know what Lance and Chris were looking at. He could still feel the slight pressure of Joey's hand holding his, their fingers laced together. He shifted just a little, and sighed contentedly when Joey nuzzled into his neck.

"'Bout damn time," Chris whispered, a smile in his voice. "C'mon, Scoop. Let's get the infant to bed."

Soft sounds marked their exit through the connecting door to Lance and Justin's room, and JC waited until he heard the door close to smile in return, then let the warmth of Joey and sleep close over him again.

The End

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