Pairing: Lance and JC
Words: lingering; vitamin C; elope; wishbone


Lance leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

"Fifteen minutes," Chris said, sliding down across from him.  He
sounded just as exhausted as Lance felt.  "That's not long enough
to do anything.  I want to die.  No.  Better still -- I want Lou to
die.  Then I want a really rich but very mean relative to die and
leave me all of his money, and I'll elope to Maui with a supermodel
and never ever dance another step again in my entire life."

"What kind of death?" Joey asked.  His voice came from near where
Chris was sitting.

"Huh?  C'mon, man, that's morbid.  Ask me how much money he has or
something.  Or how hot the chick is."

"No, for Lou."

"Oh!  Something really long and lingering.  That like eats him away
from the inside until his skin is rotting off his bones, and he's
just a skeleton lying in the noonday sun, and we can pluck his
wishbone out of the remains and summon up some sort of genie to get
us out of this god-forsaken warehouse."

"So cancer, you think?"

"Nah.  Not painful enough.  I was thinking more of holding him and
pouring acid down his throat.  And maybe burning his feet off at
the same time."

Joey laughed.  "I could get into that."

There was a rustling noise that had to be Justin settling down with
them, because Justin said, "Hey, c'mon, y'all knew there'd be a lot
of work involved when you got into this.  This isn't his fault. 
You gotta make sacrifices."

"Fine for you, Infant, but some of us are worried about the
batteries in our pacemakers going dead from the over-exertion
here."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Then there was the sound of squabbling and pushing and Lance tuned
it out because just listening to them was more exertion than he
felt like getting up to at the moment.  His body was tired.  He
hurt all over, and even his fingernails were tired, but that was
better than the throbbing, and he wanted the dark behind his
eyelids to swallow him.  Just a few seconds of blissful
unconsciousness was all he wanted.

Someone sat down next to him, brushing against him, and squeezed
his arm sympathetically.  It had to be JC.  Lance opened his eyes,
turned his head til he saw JC, and smiled wearily at him.  He
didn't have the energy for anything else, definitely not enough to
talk.

JC gave him a tiny smile back and handed him a cup.  "Drink this. 
It'll help."

He took it, and looked at it for a few seconds, then sighed and
managed the effort necessary to lift it to his lips.  It tasted
awful, and he made a face.

"It's like Gatorade," JC said.  "It's got electrolytes and Vitamin
C in it and stuff.  It'll help keep you from passing out or getting
sick.  It's better for you than water."

Lance nodded and drank it, then set the cup down and closed his
eyes again.  He was so tired.

"Rest fast," JC said.  "Our break's almost over."

Time pressure was not a good way to help him take a quick catnap,
but JC's hand curling around his, and the sound of JC's breathing
was.

Lance let the warehouse fade away around him and slept.