He was acutely aware of the breathing coming from the bunk below him. It was sort of shallow and labored, and sometimes his heart stopped when he didn’t hear an inhale for several seconds.

Sleep was impossible and completely unavailable since his mind was set on that sound of breathing and of the man below him, the one who couldn’t seem to get air into his lungs the way he should have been able to.

It was silent, and Pete sat up, ready to pounce into action should the need arise. He counted. “One sugar plum fairy, two sugar plum fairy…”

He jumped to the floor with the grace of a cat when he hit ten sugar plum fairies.

“Patrick,” Pete hissed urgently. His voice betrayed him, and it was clear he was near hysterics even if that was the last emotion he wanted to display.

Patrick didn’t move, and Pete felt himself shift into mother hen mode. He put his hands on Patrick’s bare shoulders and shook him as roughly as he dared, given Patrick’s current dilapidated state.

After an agonizing moment, Patrick’s eyelids fluttered open. “Wha----?” He looked around blearily, squinting into the darkness.

Pete felt himself smile in relief; his heartbeat returned to normal, and he laughed a little, like he’d been acting foolish to be so afraid.

“You stopped breathing,” Pete told him, and felt proud of himself that he’d single handedly saved his best friend’s life. Luckily Pete, unlike Joe and Andy, listened to doctor’s orders. Well, maybe he didn’t listen to the doctor when it concerned his own health, but he certainly paid attention when Patrick’s life was in the hands of fate.

“I fell asleep,” Patrick corrected him stonily.

Pete stared at him. “But I couldn’t hear you breathing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause my wheeze went away, you jerk.”

Pete was about to protest. How dare Patrick insinuate that he hadn’t narrowly escaped death moments before? Pete had a hero speech all planned out and ready to recite when he realized Patrick’s eyes were shining brightly in the dark and he was smiling that dorky grin of his.

With a groan, Pete launched himself at his bandmate and started telling him all the conclusions his mind had jumped to in those precious ten seconds. He had been sure he’d need to call 911 and for some reason, his brain completely blanked and couldn’t seem to remember the emergency number. He remembered it now, of course, but he found that his mind was not completely wonderful under pressure.

Patrick ruffled Pete’s hair when he was done talking, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before turning over and preparing for a fitful sleep.

“Dude,” Joe said from across the way. The sound of a curtain being drawn was then heard. Pete and Patrick were giggling a bit, as they tried to find a comfortable position together in the tiny bunk. “Get a room, would ya?”

Pete and Patrick laughed and snuggled close while Andy and Joe groaned in simultaneous agony.

“We have a room,” Pete stated seductively.

“Yeah, but not one that’s at least 300 miles away from me,” Joe replied, sounding harried.

More laughter. Andy put a pillow over his head and Joe shut his curtains rather more roughly than was necessary.

It was going to be a long night.