They were at the hospital. Joey was lying there, in bed, unconscious. His face was peaceful, not at all like at the venue, in the ambulance. There it had been pale, clammy. Pained. There, blood and fat has poured out of his leg, over Lance's hands. There, he had screamed, blowing his vocal chords.

JC had wanted to vomit.

Then the rush to the hospital, the doctors and nurses and waiting. Chris had brandished their fame like a weapon, demanding knowledge. They'd been told only family members could visit, and Steve had insisted JC was his brother, sent him in ahead.

Joey looked so tiny, lying there in bed.

He was sleeping, and JC could hold his hand again, brush his hair away from his forehead. Kiss him gently, and wait.

Part of him hoped Joey would never wake up, so he would never have to tell him. Never see the look of horror in Joey's eyes, the way his head would shake, how he would pull away from JC. From all of them.

He sat on the bed next Joey, linking their fingers, pressing his lips to Joey's knuckles. He ignored the flat spot where the blanket fell instead of clinging. Where Joey's right calf should have been.

He shot upright, gasping for air. Fucking recurring nightmares -- he hadn't had it *weeks*, had thought he was done with it. Joey was safe, healthy. He flipped on a bedside light, just to be certain.

Four bumps under the covers, two for his legs, two for Joe's.

Joey rolled over, mumbling, slid an arm across his waist.

"C?"

He turned, trembling, cupped Joey's face. Kissed him.

"'S okay," he murmured.

"The dream again?"

"Yeah."

Joey pulled JC flush against his chest, held him close.

"Thought we were done with them," he said. He swept a hand down JC's back, long, warm strokes. Comforting.

"Joe?"

"Mm?"

"What'd you dream about?"

Joey smiled. "After a PopOdyssey concert. I pushed you against the velcro, up high, a hand on your stomach to anchor you, and you were going commando, under your costume and... well."

"I think," Joey said, tipping JC back against the pillow, "I'd rather show you."

"Mm--ah, Joe."

Joey skimmed his hand across JC's skin, slid it under the waistband of his boxers. JC raised his hips, eager, already half-hard, and Joey slid the fabric away entirely.

JC tangled his fingers in Joey's hair, fighting not to push.

"You were so pale," he muttered.

Joey smiled, opened his mouth. Made JC forget the dream.