The ceiling was a white blur high above him when JC opened his eyes again, and he blearily wondered where he'd managed to fall asleep this time. Usually if he slumped against a convenient shoulder in the elevator or nodded off in the makeup chair, they would slap his cheeks to get him rolling again, or Chris would direct his deposit onto the nearest couch. They didn't usually leave him where he fell, though it wouldn't be the first time; he'd fallen asleep in the bathtub once and awoke to freezing water, shriveled fingers and Chris laughing at him from the doorway as he choked on the lungful of water he had just snored in.
This, though, didn't feel like sleep. He felt achy, which was weird, and there was a lingering sickness in the pit of his stomach, as though his body remembered all too well what was going on. Someone was pressing a warm hand against his forehead, too, so maybe he was sick?
"Fucker!" a voice snapped above him.
JC blinked.
"I said I was sorry, Chris. I thought he was faking."
"Why the hell would he fake something like this?" Chris' voice was tight, sketched in with anger. "He passes out cold and you sit there and laugh at him, and he could've busted his head open, for God's sake."
"I didn't know!"
"Do you want me to get the doctor?" That was Justin, and he sounded far away, as though he were halfway out the door already.
"What I want is for you to shut up, Justin."
"I'm just trying to--"
"He's awake."
"What?"
"He's awake," the new voice said again, patiently, and JC turned his head towards the sound, fighting against the stagnant waters that seemed to have pooled in the back of his skull, blurring his vision. Lance was peering down at him, twisted around on the couch and smiling with his arms folded neatly along the edge. "Jace, you okay?"
"JC?" Chris' face suddenly appeared above him, and JC realized suddenly that he was in Chris' lap; in his arms, even, right there on the floor. "Jace, are you okay? You scared the shit out of me."
"I'm fine," he confirmed, moving to sit up but stopping when he felt Chris' arms tighten around his shoulders. "Chris, I'm fine."
"I don't think you're so fine," Chris countered, shifting JC a bit closer, and JC slumped willingly into the embrace, resting his cheek against the warm, solid body that cradled him.
"JC, I'm sorry," Lance said from somewhere above. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" JC murmured back. He was already half asleep.
"My hand. I'm really fine; it doesn't even hurt, but I'm sorry. I didn't know just talking about the needles would freak you out."
JC's stomach lurched, and Chris must have felt him tense because he bent forward quickly, as though his body would shield JC from the words. "Lance, for God's sake," Chris snapped, but JC breathed deeply; breathed deeply of Chris, now, so close against him, and he felt the tension beginning to drain away. "Jace?"
"I'm okay," JC said, keeping his eyes closed. "Sorry. It's just... y'know, with the thing, and..."
"Yeah," Joey said, and chuckled a little.
"You sure you don't want me to get the doctor?"
"Justin, get the hell over here and look for yourself. He's fine."
JC heard the rustle of material close by, and cracked open one eye to see Justin crouching down at his shoulder, gaze sharp with worry. "C."
"Hmm?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," he purred back, as Chris shifted his fingers through JC's curls.
"You're still on the floor, though."
"I want to be on the floor," JC murmured back, and let his eyes drift closed again. The fingertips had begun to massage his scalp lightly, and he could feel Chris' breath stirring against his skin.
Justin's eyes narrowed. "This is some sort of weird sex thing, isn't it?"
"Get the hell out of here," Chris snapped, but there was laughter in his voice now, and JC wrapped himself in the sound of it, settling back contentedly against Chris' warmth.
no subject
The ceiling was a white blur high above him when JC opened his eyes again, and he blearily wondered where he'd managed to fall asleep this time. Usually if he slumped against a convenient shoulder in the elevator or nodded off in the makeup chair, they would slap his cheeks to get him rolling again, or Chris would direct his deposit onto the nearest couch. They didn't usually leave him where he fell, though it wouldn't be the first time; he'd fallen asleep in the bathtub once and awoke to freezing water, shriveled fingers and Chris laughing at him from the doorway as he choked on the lungful of water he had just snored in.
This, though, didn't feel like sleep. He felt achy, which was weird, and there was a lingering sickness in the pit of his stomach, as though his body remembered all too well what was going on. Someone was pressing a warm hand against his forehead, too, so maybe he was sick?
"Fucker!" a voice snapped above him.
JC blinked.
"I said I was sorry, Chris. I thought he was faking."
"Why the hell would he fake something like this?" Chris' voice was tight, sketched in with anger. "He passes out cold and you sit there and laugh at him, and he could've busted his head open, for God's sake."
"I didn't know!"
"Do you want me to get the doctor?" That was Justin, and he sounded far away, as though he were halfway out the door already.
"What I want is for you to shut up, Justin."
"I'm just trying to--"
"He's awake."
"What?"
"He's awake," the new voice said again, patiently, and JC turned his head towards the sound, fighting against the stagnant waters that seemed to have pooled in the back of his skull, blurring his vision. Lance was peering down at him, twisted around on the couch and smiling with his arms folded neatly along the edge. "Jace, you okay?"
"JC?" Chris' face suddenly appeared above him, and JC realized suddenly that he was in Chris' lap; in his arms, even, right there on the floor. "Jace, are you okay? You scared the shit out of me."
"I'm fine," he confirmed, moving to sit up but stopping when he felt Chris' arms tighten around his shoulders. "Chris, I'm fine."
"I don't think you're so fine," Chris countered, shifting JC a bit closer, and JC slumped willingly into the embrace, resting his cheek against the warm, solid body that cradled him.
"JC, I'm sorry," Lance said from somewhere above. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" JC murmured back. He was already half asleep.
"My hand. I'm really fine; it doesn't even hurt, but I'm sorry. I didn't know just talking about the needles would freak you out."
JC's stomach lurched, and Chris must have felt him tense because he bent forward quickly, as though his body would shield JC from the words. "Lance, for God's sake," Chris snapped, but JC breathed deeply; breathed deeply of Chris, now, so close against him, and he felt the tension beginning to drain away. "Jace?"
"I'm okay," JC said, keeping his eyes closed. "Sorry. It's just... y'know, with the thing, and..."
"Yeah," Joey said, and chuckled a little.
"You sure you don't want me to get the doctor?"
"Justin, get the hell over here and look for yourself. He's fine."
JC heard the rustle of material close by, and cracked open one eye to see Justin crouching down at his shoulder, gaze sharp with worry. "C."
"Hmm?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," he purred back, as Chris shifted his fingers through JC's curls.
"You're still on the floor, though."
"I want to be on the floor," JC murmured back, and let his eyes drift closed again. The fingertips had begun to massage his scalp lightly, and he could feel Chris' breath stirring against his skin.
Justin's eyes narrowed. "This is some sort of weird sex thing, isn't it?"
"Get the hell out of here," Chris snapped, but there was laughter in his voice now, and JC wrapped himself in the sound of it, settling back contentedly against Chris' warmth.