Justin was dreaming, which in Justin's case meant he was also talking in his sleep. And Chris was awake to hear it, or at least he was now. He hadn't quite got the hang of sleeping soundly on a moving object yet, so by the time Justin had moved from soft moans to scattered words and short phrases, Chris was wide awake and for once listening quite intently.

"Like that," Justin purred. The words were slightly slurred and ran like the soundtrack to a soft-core porn flick. The effect was the same as well, at least on Chris.

He wondered if any of the others were awake to hear this. He doubted JC was disturbed by it, an earthquake couldn't wake JC whenever he made up his mind to sleep. If Lance was awake he wouldn't say anything, he'd probably just roll over and stick his fingers in his ears. Joey was still snoring softly, and so Chris guessed he was alone.

"Yeah," Justin got louder, but the words became more sparse.

Joey's snoring finally stopped, "Shut the fuck up, Justin!" He wasn't always nice.

Justin was awake now, panting, "S-sorry." Chris heard the rustle of sheets as Justin swung his legs over the edge of his bunk and, a moment after, the receding footsteps making their way to the front of the bus.

After a brief debate with himself, Chris followed. He wasn't about to give the kid some facts of life speech about wet dreams, but if he needed to talk, Chris would be there. He didn't think he'd be going back to sleep anytime soon either. He found Justin at the front of the bus, collapsed on the couch, staring out the window. Just what he found so fascinating about black skies and street lamps, Chris didn't know, but he was caught up in his own version of scenery.

"What?" came Justin's youthful challenge when he realized that he was the object of Chris stare.

He didn't think it was a good idea to tell the sixteen-year- old boy he looked like sex, cheeks flushed, mouth open, and eyes dilated. Sex on a fucking platter. "Nothing," he said, sitting at the small table across the aisle. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just had a weird dream." He returned his gaze to the world outside, jaw working a few times. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't," Chris lied. "Joey didn't wake up just you."

He snorted, "Probably for the best. I'm not sure I would have wanted to finish that dream."

The admission struck Chris as a little odd, he couldn't think of any sex related dream he didn't wish he could revisit, except one that involved his high school gym teacher. "Nightmare?" he knew he was prying, but at three AM conversation was hard to find.

Justin shook his head, "No, I- it's just really fucked up."

Chris leaned forward, curiosity piqued, "Tell me."

"No," if Justin had been standing, Chris just knew he would have stamped his foot. "You'd just make fun of me for it."

"Hey!" Chris interjected, ready to defend himself, but Justin just continues.

"I'd make fun of me for it."

And Chris stopped, surprised because there wasn't much about himself that Justin found worthy of ridicule. Already bored, Chris decided to use this admission as the night's entertainment. "Well, if it wasn't a nightmare, what kind of dream was it?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Justin replied, sounding quite serious.

Chris didn't care, using what he had already guessed to push Justin's buttons even more, "Was it a sexy dream?"

"No!" The reply was too adamant to leave any doubt as to leave any doubt as to the nature of his dream.

"So it was," Chris teased. He settled back and let his face and voice become serious again. "What's fucked up about that? You're a... growing boy after all."

"It's not that, I-" Justin stopped himself, and flashed an angry look at Chris. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."

Momentarily, Chris paused, thinking on the best angle to approach the subject, puzzling out just what could be so disturbing about a wet dream. "Don't tell me," he said, trying to be disarming. "It was about your mother, wasn't it?"

A previously discarded coke can was launched at his head, missing him. "Fuck no, you perv."

"Well? What then? An animal?"

Justin looked ill.

"If it wasn't your mom and it wasn't something unnatural, what else could it be?"

"It was a guy, alright?" Justin suddenly burst. "It was a fucking guy, fucking me. Happy?"

"Oh," Chris said, and was silent for quite some time after. He swallowed and figured he should say something... comforting. "Listen, Justin, that dream doesn't have to mean anything. The other night I had a dream about spiders and my little sister, what the fuck does that mean, huh? Don't let it bother you."

"Well, it does," he relied tersely. He lifted his hand to eyes, as if to rub away sleep, but somehow the action changed in mid- motion, and all of the sudden Justin was pressing the heel of his palm to his tightly shut eyes, fighting tears.

"Hey," Chris said, standing, hesitating. "Hey, don't do that," he tugged Justin's hand away, then continued pulling. He didn't stop until Justin was in his arms, sagging against him. He wondered, idly, as he rubbed circles over the boy's shoulders, when he had gotten so damn big. He had always seemed smaller somehow, but now, up close, Justin felt solid, with big hands and long arms, but a too narrow waist. Chris liked the way he felt, but didn't think too much of this because something wet had just touched his shoulder. Justin's mouth?

Time to step back, he told himself, and he did, but Justin held on to him. Chris blinked up- yes, he had finally admitted that Justin was taller than him -at Justin, waiting, but he only licked his lips and leaned forward.

"What are you-" Chris began, stopping when he realized what was happening.

"I, uh-" Justin's voice was soft now, timid.

Chris tried to step back again, but he only followed. "Listen, it's not that I don't want to, but-"

"Then do it," Justin told him. As if it were just that easy.

And apparently it was, because Chris's lips were on his, soft and warm. Justin kept his mouth closed at first, but after a few soft nips and panted breaths it was opened, and Chris drank in all that he could. Ten fingers were digging into his back, but only to pull him closer. His own hands were softer, cupping Justin's strong jaw and tense shoulder. And when it was over, Chris pulled away completely, but let his hand slide down to lace his fingers with Justin's. When he sat down on the couch, Justin followed him, moving for another kiss.

"No, don't," Chris said, whispering as if someone would hear. "Just sleep, okay?"

Justin nodded, relaxing against him as if it were difficult. Eventually, he slouched down far enough to rest his head on Chris' shoulder, curling up closer to him. Chris didn't move him, but waited until Justin's breathing had evened out to reach and rest his hand in the bleached curls brushing against his cheek. He tried not to think of what the morning would bring.