First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

It surprised him, but Joey suddenly hated nighttime. The darkness felt heavy, the absence of light somehow tangible. Lance bought nightlights when they bickered about light from the kitchen shining through the bus. The tiny lights burnt but the darkness still reigned.

Joey smiled at Lance though, said "Thanks, man" and meant it. He still didn't sleep well. When he finally slept, he dreamt of light.

They drove through Montana, late at night, when Lance opened their curtains. The stars were bright and Lance smiled. When he slipped an arm around Joey's waist, the darkness had nothing left to hide.

Little Bunny Foo Foo

Little Bunny Foo Foo
hoppin' through the forest
scoopin' up the field mice
and boppin' em on the head.

JC was standing and watching a spider crawling up the wall when Chris walked into the bathroom. It seemed perfectly normal for Chris to shriek and back up, eyes fixed warily on the dangerous creature.

JC just turned to him and said "You're scaring it, Chris." And he went to back to watching, absorbed, one hand running through his hair.

Chris walked up, hiding behind JC and peering over his shoulder. He felt rewarded when JC whispered "Isn't it pretty?" breath hot in his ear. He promised not to kill it, even to protect it, while JC smiled sweetly.

What Are Little Boys Made Of?

Snips and snails, And puppy dog tails

Chris liked it when Justin showered on the bus. Justin sang ballads in the shower and he'd look squeaky clean and innocent when he stepped out of the bathroom. Chris would squirm helplessly, watching stray water droplets fall.

It wasn't just when Justin was shining and fresh. Chris liked him just as much right after they got offstage, costumes soaked with sweat.

Right after a shower, though, he smelled like fabric softener and deodorant soap and cheap Johnson's baby shampoo. He'd look so angelic that Chris wanted to muss him, pull those perfect curls or lick that smooth, perfect skin.

Hushabye Baby

Hush-a-bye, baby,in the tree top.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.

JC slept like a child, hand tucked under his head and his mouth open just enough to make him look breathless. Joey cursed Lance for trading with JC, because he never wasted time staring at Lance while he slept. Lance snored and thrashed around and muttered things that sounded menacing.

Joey thought that JC would sing in his sleep. Not the bouncy rhythms of their everyday stuff, but something soft and ethereal, Enya or classical.

Joey let the movie they'd chosen play out unwatched while he reminded himself why he shouldn't brush the feathers of hair off of JC's forehead.

Curly Locks

Curly Locks, Curly Locks, will you be mine?
You shall not wash dishes, nor feed the swine
But sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam
And sup upon strawberries, sugar, and cream.

It was difficult, sometimes, knowing that there was nothing left to give Justin. Joey liked to buy presents, give backrubs, make his affection known through tangible things. All Justin needed to do was wave a credit card or smile his blindingly perfect smile, though, and he got anything he wanted.

When Justin looked sad, Joey fought the urge to buy him another pair of sneakers, or a cd that Justin could get for free. Joey didn't bother shopping anymore, just made sure to tell Justin, to say "I love you, man" and kiss him softly and thoroughly. Justin always smiled.

Kookaburra

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree.
Merry, merry king of the bush is he.

Chris said wise and serious things but had a talent for making his proclamations sound flippant and light. So, when Joey was sitting there, hands clasped loosely together, looking tired and sad and lost, it was easy for Chris to say "Come on, come to bed." Joey looked up, nodded and followed.

When they were curled up, not touching beneath the covers, Chris leaned over and deliberately draped an arm over Joey's waist. Chris whispered, "Shh, he's not worth it." and curled into Joey, hot and small and real. Joey sighed, focusing on Chris's voice until he drifted into sleep.

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells
And pretty maids all in a row.

Lance wanted to punch Justin, or possibly kiss him. Either one would shock Justin out of the gilded complacency he shrouded himself in, make him think of something other than stupid looking blondes in tight clothes.

Some days, the thought of hearing Justin's face crunch under his fingers was the most soothing picture he could imagine. Other days, picturing Justin's lips rounding in a wet pout of surprise, made him duck into the bathroom and touch himself hard and fast.

Choosing none of the above, Lance yelled, "Hey, Justin? Wanna play some ball?" and watched Justin nod, radiating simple happiness.

Crooked Man

There was a crooked man
Who walked a crooked mile.

Lance hated interviews, worried that something in him had broken with all the lies he'd had to tell. Looking in the monitor, he expected to see a funhouse reflection, shards of truth showing jagged and distorted.

He felt worried and stretched out, like the lies were too thick and the truth was too thin, and he watched his face on the monitors. He looked honest and open, and he bared his teeth, disgusted that it looked like a smile.

When Chris smiled, catching his eye, Lance felt himself remember who he was and why he lied. He smiled for real.

What Are Little Girls Made Of?

Sugar and spice, And everything nice

If Justin wasn't intimately acquainted with JC's dick, he'd have sworn JC was a girl. It wasn't just the sparkly barrettes and flowers embroidered on impossibly wide legged jeans. Not the way his bones felt delicate and his hair fluffed perfectly, gleaming in the sunlight.

It was something about the way JC smiled or the way he kissed the tip of Justin's nose, eyes crinkling in happiness. He radiated pink sparkles, rubbing his cheek against soft things.

Justin would swear to JC's feminity, until JC laid him out and fucked him. He begged then, and JC laughed low and dirty.

Birds of a Feather

Birds of a feather flock together,
And so will pigs and swine;
Rats and mice will have their choice,
And so will I have mine.

"You too?"

JC jumped when he heard the low voice whispering into his ear. He nodded without turning around, smiling when he felt a chin drop onto his shoulder. They both watched Justin dance.

Lance was breathing slowly and steadily into his ear, and JC didn't think he intended seduction, but his pants felt too small. Better to blame it on Justin, and JC said " My god. His hips."

Lance hissed out a breath, laughed when JC shuddered and then moved back. "Bet he couldn't make you scream like I could." JC turned and saw promise in Lance's eyes.

~end~