Sleep

It's down as my hobby that I love to sleep.

What I really love is watching Justin sleep.

I absolutely don't get to do that enough. Forever wouldn't be enough.

Okay, I can practically hear Chris snorting and laughing, "C, dude, when did you turn into a girl?"

But it's true. Yeah, and okay, we're going to ignore the fact that he's not legal and me loving him isn't legal, and all that crap, because—I love him.

None of us get enough sleep. Ever. It's kind of just the way this works. We bust our butts now, and some day we won't have to. But it's gotta be hell for Lance and Justin, especially; I know when I was J's age, man, I slept even more than I like to now. Something about growing; my mom used to say I was either asleep or eating, and that was it. If Justin stands still long enough, he can nod off, and he's always hungry.

I am, too, but nothing food's gonna help.

He's beautiful. It makes me feel stupid and yeah, like a twelve-year-old girl – shut up, Chris – to watch him. But I like to. Want to. And so, times like now, when we're in the van, heading to god-knows-where, some town with more vowels than should be possible, I'm fine with sitting in the back seat, and letting Justin sleep on me.

He lays on his side with his head in my lap, curled in a little bit. He tucks one hand up under his face, kinda resting on his palm. If I'm very careful, I can stroke his fingers without waking him up. I used to wonder if he sucked his thumb when he was little, because it's like that. It wouldn't take much to move his thumb over a little and put it in his mouth.

He's warm, too. Impossibly warm. And he smells good. Warm, slightly sweaty boy, laying over my lap, dozing. He blinks a lot when he's asleep. And sometimes he mutters, nothing I can ever quite make out. I hear what sounds like my name, sometimes, though that could be wishful thinking, too. Probably is. Or maybe not, I don’t know. I know Justin thinks of me as his boyfriend, though we don't get much chance for anything other than a few stolen kisses here and there.

It's barely daylight outside. We had to leave the hotel early this morning; today's circus is close enough to drive to and from, but far enough we needed to leave early. Yay, us. I love singing, but man, sometimes the rest of it is just…overwhelming. I have the urge sometimes to just, I don't know. Wrap my arms around Justin and hold on tight, and try and protect him. Which is really funny when you think about it, because really, he's kind of been performing longer than I have.

Whatever.

Justin turns over and buries his face against my stomach, one arm going around my waist as an anchor. He mumbles something that sounds like 'algebra', and sighs. It's moments like this, I'm happy to do without a little extra sleep. I'm the only one – besides our driver – who's awake right now. Chris and Lance are both snuggled up against Joey, who really makes a good pillow. I'm glad Justin prefers my skinny self.

Since I'm the only one awake, I let myself touch Justin, just a little. Stroke his cheek with one thumb, my fingers in his curls. They're softer than they should be, considering how much bleach gets poured into them. They're shorter than when we were on MMC. I kinda miss the longer ones. Sort of. But they're soft, and his head is warm, and I rub gently, watching his face relax even more.

He tips his head further into my stomach and shifts a little, and yeah. Puts the tip of thumb against his mouth. And it's weird, but it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Which probably makes me some sort of pervert, but whatever.

I look up and Chris is watching me. I blush, I know it, 'cos I feel myself get all hot – and not in a good way. He smiles, this weird, patient, understanding smile, and winks at me before closing his eyes again.

I think I was just given some sort of…approval, or something.

Justin snuffles and shifts again – the road is bumpy and the van's shocks suck – and his arm comes back from around my waist. I look around, then take his hand, lacing our fingers together. He smiles in his sleep and sighs.

Yeah, I could watch him sleep forever. Nothing gets better than this.

~fin~

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