It's quiet on the bus when JC gets out his keyboard. Joey is reading, but stops when he sees JC setting it up. They're alone on the bus-for once-and JC had said not even an hour ago he was planning to go to bed early. JC sees his puzzled look, and hesitates.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks, hands hovering over the keys, ready to put it back if Joey disapproves. But Joey doesn't, far from it, and tells him so.

"No, go right on ahead. Knock yourself out."

JC has a melody floating around in his head, has for weeks, but keeps saying it just won't go anywhere. Apparently it's gone somewhere tonight though, because the relief on JC's face is so obvious Joey has to stifle a laugh. Within moments he's plinking out a few experimental notes, making sure his fingers remember what to do. At first Joey goes back to The Goblet of Fire, because he's determined to finish the damn thing, but he keeps seeing flashes of JC's fingers out of the corner of his eye. Discreetly, his eyes slide away from page 346 and come to rest on JC's hands as they skip across the black and white keys, feeling out a melody that doesn't quite exist yet. JC is tentative at first; he always says that he can't free himself up enough to do what his mind wants him to do unless he forgets there's a world around him. It's clear JC hasn't done that yet, because he's frowning and thinking too hard. Joey picks up the book again, as if it will help JC get to where he needs to go.

He hears it the moment it happens. Suddenly JC's hands get away from him and find what he's looking for, coaxing his music out of the keyboard with graceful, confident strokes of his long fingers. Harry Potter is abandoned and Joey watches, captivated by the waltz JC dances over the weathered keys. Joey knows that if JC catches him staring he'll stop, mumbling some sheepish excuse about running out of inspiration, but he doesn't think that will happen tonight. JC's eyes are closed, head tilted slightly to the side as he trusts everything to his fingers. It's just him and the music-to him Joey isn't even in the room anymore.

With a smile on his face, Joey settles back to wait until the inspiration has passed and JC's hands turn their waltz on him, dancing across his body as JC laughs in his ear, perfectly in tune.

---

JC comes back to himself- and it almost feels like that, like coming back into his skin after his soul has taken flight- several minutes or hours later. He doesn’t know. His fingers are cramping and his back hurts from hunching over the keyboard, but he’s happy. Most of the song is worked out, recorded into the keyboard’s memory and written down in the notebook lying against his leg.

He flexes his hands and looks around for Joey. He’s still sitting on the couch, still buried in Harry Potter. He’s gotten considerably farther along than he was this morning when he complained about the length of the book-“They just keep getting longer, can you imagine the seventh one!?”- and is almost at the end.

JC loves to watch him read. He doesn’t get to do it often; he knows Joey hates people watching him read. It’s the same reason he doesn’t win at poker: everything Joey feels is expressed on his face. His excitement, sorrow, anger, everything. He gets involved in what he reads; sometimes reading entire sections aloud, just to let the words soak into his skin, embed themselves in his memory.

Right now, Joey’s brow is scrunched, his eyebrows drawn together. He’s angry and, if JC reads the mouth grimace right, a little scared. “Go Harry,” he mutters, and JC stifles a laugh. Joey sits up suddenly, holding the book up under his nose and he starts muttering the words to himself, breath quick and hands clenched around the book. “Ohhh… his mom and dad,” Joey whispers, flipping the pages quickly. JC thinks he can see tears gathering in Joey’s eyes.

He watches Joey read the rest of the book, all the way to the end, and then Joey closes the book with a sad look of regret. He lifts his eyes, catches JC’s and smoothes his face into an expression of careful disinterest, something he’s practiced since the beginning when Chris watched him read one day and laughed.

“Were you watching me?”

JC shrugs. “Maybe.”

Joey sets the book aside. “How’s the song coming?”

“Mostly done, I think. Gone for now, though.” JC slides over onto the couch next to Joey. He runs careful fingers across Joey’s cheeks, up into his hairline. “I love watching you,” he says, and frowns when Joey does.

“I feel weird.”

JC shakes his head, but he knows it’s an argument he’s not going to win so he stops talking, lets his fingers walk and dance over Joey and hopes that someday, that will convince him.

in the mood?