Disclaimer: I know no one mentioned in this story. None of this is true. Don't read if you're too young or too immature to handle it.
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I couldn't resist using the title this time... ;o)
The Magnificent Journey Chapter 5: "Have you had your break today?"
Fuzzy images clouded Lance's mind as he was slowly brought to the surface. He had dreamed something, hadn't he? He usually did, but he never remembered his dreams. The only reason he knew he had them was from the other guys' accounts of his nights actions, and from startling awake sometimes when he was all alone. He was a dreamer in some deep hidden part of his mind that never seemed to want to surface.
"Lance? Lance, come on, wake up."
Lance slowly, slowly came awake. He could feel Chris's arm on his shoulder, his breath on his neck, his weight just slightly leaning on Lance's body as Chris was shaking him lightly, his body mere inches away... those probably weren't the things Lance should concentrate on, but there was no way to stop the thoughts except to...
Lance opened his eyes, and found Chris looking at him, eyebrows narrowed just slightly. Chris was leaning over him, into the passenger side. It was a good thing they were parked. "You okay Lance?"
Lance blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
Chris just paused, and then went into a very 'Chris-ish' diatribe. "You know, the other guys all talked about this, but I never knew what they were talking about until now. I see what Josh meant now."
"What?"
"You're a very restless sleeper, Lance. Like, moaning, twitching, talking, kicking restless. You sure you don't remember anything?"
"Yeah. The guys talk about that?"
"You've woken Justin up before, man. Of course we talk about it."
Lance had to smile at that. "I'm sorry that I bother you guys. I've tried to keep to the extra room so that I don't."
"It isn't your fault, Lance. It's just... worrisome, really."
"It's only the stress. I've been like this for my whole life."
"Huh. That's really bizarre. Most people either remember their nightmares, or just don't get them. It's usually a trauma-related thing, or a childhood thing." Lance just shrugged, and Chris smiled. "Anyways, I woke you 'cause I got food, and I thought you might wanna eat while it's warm."
"What'd you get?"
"McDonalds. The cheapest meat there is, next to Chihuahua tacos." Lance grinned and reached for the bag, and removed a carton of fries. Fries were always better while hot. Hamburgers could wait.
Chris watched him with a warm look, and Lance was compelled to make conversation. "Aren't you hungry?"
"I already ate." But Chris must have known that Lance needed to see some action, so that he wasn't the only one moving. That always had the insane tendency to make him nervous. It made him feel like every action was being watched and evaluated, like he was being quizzed on something he didn't even know he had notes on. Chris reached down and got out another cig, and lit up while Lance munched on Fries. The cigarette sparked memories of the perfect moment, and Lance longed to feel like that again.
"So... is she pretty?"
Chris looked confused for a minute, as he took a drag off the cig, but then it dawned on him what Lance was talking about. Chris got the most evil grin on his face, as if he knew something Lance didn't. "Very pretty."
"Blond or brunette?"
"Blond. Sometimes acts very much like it, too."
"A little ditzy?"
"I wouldn't say ditzy. Very intelligent. Just sometimes a little slow to catch on to some things."
Lance could certainly understand that phenomenon. He knew he walked on the side of the dense occasionally, but it was normally an insecurity thing. "Don't think she'll hook into your advances?"
"Hasn't yet."
"You were hitting on her while you were still with Danielle? Chris!"
"No, Lance, I wasn't hitting on him while I was with Danielle. I'm not a sleazebag, thank you."
"Him? Oh." Lance's eyes suddenly flew wider and he choked on the fry he had in his mouth. It couldn't be. It couldn't -possibly- be. Chris's free, non-cig hand flew out to help him, to pat him on the back. After Lance was okay again, it lingered, rubbing at the soft hairs along the base of Lance's neck.
Oh, yeah. It was. Lance got the goofiest grin on his face. He just instinctively knew he looked goofy, but that was okay. His voice was clear and steady, somehow, when he spoke, despite the fact that his insides were fluttering. "Chris?"
"Yes, James?"
"I'm not -pretty-."