Chapter Text
Joe and Wil had already been friends for years, and Lovejoy's constant touring had only served to bring them even closer. So it was no surprise when Wil had found himself curled up against Joe's side, his curly mess of brown hair splaying out across Joe's wide chest, scrolling endlessly through his phone in their hotel room between shows. It was already well into the tour, and Wilbur's exhaustion seemed to be overflowing. The callouses on his fingers had formed and split open again from the constant playing every night, the skin pink and raw. Joe had seen Wil like this plenty of times by now, and was more than happy to oblige, giving Wil comfort through the aimless rubs up and down his sides.
"D'you think I should get these?" Joe asks, handing his phone to Wilbur. On the screen was a pair of freshly dropped Doc Martens. They were low cut- Joe's favorite type- a black pair with yellow stitched-on smiley faces. On the sides, classic yellow stitching read 'HAVE A NICE DAY'.
Wil stares at the photo for a moment, a soft smile spreading across his cheeks. He, in fact, couldn't think of anyone *better* for the shoes than his own best friend. He hands the phone back with a smirking giggle, angling his head to look up at him. "Oh, a hundred percent, get them."
Joe smiled widely, instantly pressing purchase on the shoes. He glanced at Wil excitedly. "Maybe they'll be there by the time we get to the city. I could swing out there before our show and wear th-"
"No." Wil says abruptly, cutting Joe off.
Joe cocks his head gently with curiousity at the outburst.
"I am *not* letting you 'break in' another pair of shoes on stage. It was a bloody disaster last time."
Joe's head falls back in hearty laughter. Wil continues to pout up at him seriously.
"Ash had to go to six seperate fucking stores to get you ice for your fucking *footwater*. D'you remember that?"
Joe was in full hysterics at this point, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cackled with laughter, taking a few gasping breaths before responding. "'s not m' fault!" He manages to choke out between giggles.
Wilbur can't help but giggle too, his angry facade quickly fading, replaced by a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looks back down at his phone, his hand that was wrapped under Joe's back mindlessly moving grazed fingertips across Joe's arm. "It *totally* was mate, but alright."
Joe relaxes into Wil's touch, comforted by the simple feeling. He giggles again, continuing to scroll. After a few moments of silence, he glanced back down at Wil, whose eyes were starting to droop gently. He giggles, smiling gently. "Comfy, Wilbur?"
The pink tinge returns to Wil's cheeks, and he looks back up at Joe sleepily. "Mmh... yeah... tired..."
Joe ruffles Wil's hair soothingly. "Then sleep, Wil. I'll wake you before we have to go."
Wil instinctively nuzzles up into Joe's hand, loving the feeling of his loose curls being played with. He closes his eyes as he leans into Joe's hand. "It's alright, I'll manage."
"*Wil*." Joe glances at Wil, suddenly serious. "No one is asking you to 'just manage'. Rest. Please."
Wilbur wants to protest, wants to tell Joe he's ridiculous for even suggesting such a thing, but all he can manage is an angry pout. This only makes Joe chuckle and ruffle Wil's hair.
"Chrissake, sorry for suggesting you *sleep*, how absolutely *mad* of me."
Wil rolls his eyes, bur sighs, yawning and nuzzling closer to Joe, soaking in his warmth. Before long, Joe watches the phone gently fall from Wil's fingertips as he drifts to sleep, making him quietly chuckle again. He gently rubs his fingertips up and down Wil's back as he scrolls, passing the time until it was time to wake his bandmate.
Of course, he didn't mind. Joe was very much an introvert, and he would honestly *like* to spend this time laying down and resting anyways. The soothing hum of Wil's gentle snores was just added comfort, in his eyes.