Dead Or Alive

The damp towel slipped from Jon’s shoulders as he sprawled along the back seat of the limo, leaning against Richie’s shoulder. He sighed heavily and Richie shifted position to wrap his arms around the singer.

“What’s up?” Richie asked, running his fingers through Jon’s loosely curling hair. Jon purred, relaxing against Richie.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh…”

Jon laughed. “Just tired, I guess. Took a lot out of myself tonight.”

“Uh-huh…” Richie still wasn’t convinced. “You were very… non-energetic out there. Haven fen for a few days. What’s wrong, JB?”

Jon sighed, he really should have known better than to try and lie to Richie. They’d known each other too long for either of them to pull the wool over the other’s eyes.

“Did you… tonight… did you ever get the feeling you were being watched?”

Richie snorted with laughter. “Jon, there was what… twenty-five thousand people out there. Yeah, I got the feeling I was being watched.”

Jon sighed. That wasn’t quite what he meant; only he didn’t have the words to explain it. “Not like that. Like you were being Watched.” He emphasised the W, trying to convey his feelings.

Richie shook his head and Jon’s face fell. “Oh,” he mumbled. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to force a cheery tone back in his voice. “I was probably imagining it. I’ve not been sleeping well, bad dreams… they were probably just in my head or something.”

“Could be…”

Both men fell silent, content relaxing in each other’s company. Jon rested his feet up against the door, head still on Richie’s shoulder as he dozed, Richie’s arms around him. He smiled to himself, eyes drifting closed.

Richie felt Jon relax against his shoulder and looked down at him with a fond smile. He ran his fingers down the singers face, stifling a chuckle as Jon screwed his face up. Richie slumped back against the leather seat and asked the driver how long it would take to get back to the hotel. He sighed at the answer;lingling his neck to try to alleviate some of the stiffness he felt settling in from the way Jon was leaning against him.

Jon winced at the crack and blinked, twisting around to look at Richie. “Pleasel mel me that wasn’t your neck that just made that noise.”

“Sorry.” Richie carried on rolling his neck, cracking it a few times. “Ahh, that’s better.”

Jon sat up, watching Richie for a few minutes. The guitarist was restless, drumming his fingers on his thigh, rolling his shoulders, staring out the window. “Rich, you OK?”

“Yeah, just a bit… I don’t know, tense and wound up right now.” He motioned to the driver to stop the car and opened the door. “I need some fresh air, Jon. It ain’t far to the hotel so I’m gonna walk it. Meet you there in a few?”

Jon scowled, but nodded. “You be careful out there, ok?”

Richie grinned. “Yes, mom.” Jon stuck his tongue out as Richie closed the door and the limo continued on its way.