For sarahq: Joey/Lance. "I'm warning you, don't ever do / those crazy messed-up things that you do / If you ever do, I promise you / I'll be the first to crucify you."

Part of the best friend responsibility was not saying "I told you so" when said best friend appeared on your doorstep at six in the morning, lugging a duffel bag and looking like he hadn't slept in three weeks. Lance ran a hand through his hair and held the door open a little more. "Come on in," he said, on a yawn. "Is this one of the things we talk about, or one of the things that we don't talk about?"

"Kelly," Joey said, and shouldered past Lance. He dropped the bag in the hallway, looked down at it, and sighed. Lance could see the train of thought run through his head, and pinpointed the exact moment where Joey just said "fuck it" and decided to leave it there. "Dude, I don't even know what the fuck it was this time."

"When was the last time you slept?"

The shadows under Joey's eyes could probably have housed an entire regiment. "Yesterday? No, Tuesday. I think. What the fuck day is it?"

Lance nodded. "Am I going to be causing another international incident for harboring the fugitive?"

"Oh, fuck you." There was no heat to it; Joey sounded exhausted, not upset. "I could go and wake up Chris or something. If you don't want me staying here."

"No, it's okay." Lance's jaw cracked as he yawned again. "I'll yell at you for being stupid in the morning. Come on."

Joey looked down at his feet. "Can I sleep in with you?"

Lance closed his eyes for a second. It was too early, or perhaps too late, to deal with things. "Yeah," he said. "But if you fuck this up too, you're walking home."

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