It's cold outside and for a while Lance stands at the window, watching people walk by with their shoulders hunched, their jackets zipped all the way up. It's windy outside, Lance can hear the wind rushing by, howling. Standing close to the window he can even feel it seeping through the glass. It's not all bad, though, because he's sharing this particular drafty room with Joey. Justin's mom was with them again and there was no way he was rooming with Chris.

He turns from the window and climbs into his bed. Joey is sprawled on the other, under the thick, scratchy hotel spread. They are both wearing thick socks and sweats and sweaters but they still feel the draft. They huddle under the covers on their respective beds and Joey surfs past Rachel and Chandler arguing in badly dubbed German.

Lance perks; it's been forever since he's seen American television. "No, Joey, go back. That was Friends."

Joey's channel surfing never falters, "Dude, that episode is old. And it's in German."

A cold chill suddenly creeps up Lance's back and he shivers during an attempted shrug, rattling his headboard against the wall. He looks over to Joey and finds him looking back. Joey smiles at him, but Lance quickly drops his gaze and looks back at the TV.

Joey pauses again at familiar faces. Sally Field and Dolly Parton are yelling at each other in "Steel Magnolias" and even though it's not set in Mississippi, the setting around them reminds Lance so much of home that the light of the TV is softened by gathering tears. He bites the inside of his cheek to get them to go away.

Joey sighs heavily and when Lance looks over he sees Joey lift up his blanket, and gesture with one arm. "Dude, come here," he says.

Lance is cold and miserable and home sick and even though he's only known Joey for a matter of months, he likes Joey. Likes him a lot, even sort of likes him like that. He slides out of his bed with little more encouragement. He goes over and climbs under the sheets but keeps himself carefully apart. Sure Joey invited him into his bed, but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't get the wrong idea if Lance tried to touch him or something. He doesn't want to get kicked out, doesn't want to make things awkward.

Only now he can feel the cold air seeping down the collar of his sweater, because the blanket is stretched taut between them. He jumps a little when he feels Joey's hand on his waist.

"You're sort of missing the whole point, Lance," Joey says, right up close to Lance's ear. "You know, share the body heat and all that?" Lance thinks he's going to die when Joey puts a hand on his hips and pulls him over.

He can't help but stiffen as Joey drapes his arm around Lance's waist. This is too much. He can feel Joey's breath on his ear as he watches Sally scream in the little cemetery and he thinks he knows how she might feel.

Lance catches his breath when he feels Joey's leg drape over his, bringing Joey’s chest into full contact with Lance’s back. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, trying to be nonchalant so Joey doesn't know how much he likes it, and catches the scent of shampoo and soap and realizes that Joey is still warm from the shower. He breathes deeply of the fresh scent of Pert Plus and Ivory and Joey, but slowly so Joey doesn't know.

Joey runs his warm hands over Lance's arms and down his sides and Lance can feel his skin tingling wherever Joey's hands go. He can feel Joey's warmth spreading through him, chasing the cold from his limbs. But his hands and his feet are still cold and he wants to put them on Joey, wants to steal some of the warmth radiating from him. So he shifts closer, backwards, and his hands slide across Joey's forearm where he's pushed up the sweater.

He feels Joey jump, hears the "Damn, Bass!" in his ear as Joey pulls Lance's hands into his, rubbing them. He shifts upward and leans over Lance's side, brings his hands to his mouth and breaths on them, still rubbing vigorously.

Lance looks up at his hands, pressed between Joey's, and gulps. Joey meets his eyes and smiles. "Keep your cold feet to yourself though, kid," he says and Lance blushes. His whole body is starting to feel very warm. He gets a little squirmy, just can't help it. He doesn't know whether to shift closer, or put a stop to this before it gets out of hand and he's got to explain why he's getting hard under Joey's platonic touches.

Joey lets go of his hands, and his own are back around Lance's waist. Joey doesn't seem to think anything of being so close, so Lance presses against him, just a little more. He could make a habit of this, being allowed to get so close, feeling the full press of Joey's body, and soaking up the warmth. He closes his eyes and settles down, ready to forget the movie, and just take a nap in the sublimely warm and comforting bed he now shares with Joey. Joey shifts a little and Lance's eyes snap open because he can feel Joey pressing into his hip, half hard and warmer than any other part of him.

He must have jerked or given himself away somehow because Joey mumbles, "Um, don't worry 'bout that. 'S nothing."

He doesn't want it to be nothing, though. Lance takes a deep breath and his eyes brush over Joey's face before focusing on his shoulder. He clears his throat, "What if I want it to be, um, something?"

Joey's breath catches sharply and Lance is afraid to look up and see that he's overstepped his bounds. Joey's big hand slides under his chin, tilting up Lance's face. "Lance?" he says in a small, wondering voice.

It still takes Lance a second to look him in the eye. His breath is coming so fast now, because it's really hitting him that he's in a bed with Joey and they're both getting hard and they can do something about it, or ignore it.

He finally looks up at Joey, meets his eyes, and sees his own feelings of hope and worry reflected there. He's reassured and oddly comforted that Joey is a little scared too. "I want it to be something," he says, looking into Joey's dark eyes.

He closes his eyes as Joey dips his head and nibbles on Lance's mouth. He moves with nipping kisses over Lance's lips until Lance works up the courage and really kisses him. He flips over in bed, so their chests are pressed together but not their hips, not yet. He runs his hands up Joey's back, into his hair where they tangle in the long, dark strands.

Joey hums happily into his mouth and pulls him even closer, running his tongue over Lance's lips. Lance opens for him and their tongues crash together in a slick caress.

Joey flips on his back and drags Lance on top of him, claiming the warmth of both Lance and the blanket. He's not sure how far he's getting ahead of himself, but Lance just wiggles happily into place. Joey runs his hands down Lance's back, hiking Lance's sweatshirt up to run warm fingers over the hot skin of his back.

From above him, Lance can feel every warm, hard inch of Joey. His hips press into Joey's and he can feel how hard Joey has gotten, how hard that's made him in answer. It occurs to him that he might just want to take this all the way. He squirms and gasps a little as Joey's hands brush the naked skin on his stomach, which makes him grind down against Joey who grabs his hips and rises to meet him, just once before flipping them onto their sides.

Lance is gasping for breath, his hands still tangled in Joey's hair. Joey scoots back a little and stops Lance as he tries to follow. "We have to slow down, man. This is your first time, isn't it?"

Lance looks down from Joey's face, finds his gaze on Joey's neck. He watches as Joey swallows heavily, gulps almost. He watches Joey's Adam's apple travel the length of his neck. He knows Joey is just as swept away as he is, but he doesn't want to stop.

"Um, well, yes. But I'm cool. Really."

Joey sighs. They'll screw things up if they start this way so he turns Lance around again and cuddles up to his back. The arms around Lance are warmer now, closer, and he can feel Joey's breath on the back of his neck.

"We have time," he breathes, kissing the cooling skin. "Lots of time," he says, turning up the volume on the TV.