by Zoicite
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It seems like a good idea at the time. It’s better than sitting around in a fucking hotel room doing nothing, at any rate. Because now doing nothing has a point. It isn’t really doing nothing at all anymore. In fact, it’s a lot more like doing everything. Doing anything. In concept it’s sort of deep. Like a metaphor for his life. Nick is taking a stand, and that makes it all the cooler and suddenly not just a good idea, a great one, and Nick puffs his chest out a little and smiles. Really, if he can bring himself to admit it, Nick doesn’t know a whole lot about things like metaphors, and perhaps it isn’t one at all, but he thinks maybe it could be. He starts small. When Kevin asks him where he was the night before Nick says, “Drunk fucking a 15 year old fan,” instead of “hatching evil plots alone in my room.” Kevin’s mouth drops open, his face turns a strange shade of crimson, and Nick walks away before Kevin can even begin his angry diatribe. It’s a lot easier than he expects. And funny too. AJ loves it when Nick tells a young fan an entire elaborate story about the pig farm he grew up on and that it was actually in Illinois, not in Florida at all. He told everyone he grew up in Florida because Lou had thought that the pig farm thing was lame and it had just stuck since then. It’s only Nick’s second try and it’s much more intricate than his earlier retort to Kevin. He smiles when AJ laughs and slaps him on the back in appreciation. Nick has always looked up to AJ. It’s the coolness factor. AJ’s only two years older than Nick, but he always seems light years ahead when it comes to coolness. And the thing is, AJ’s the biggest dork that Nick knows. The cool, hip AJ is a complete façade. But it’s a façade that Nick can’t usually pull off successfully and so he envies it. When Nick admits it to himself, the tattoos and the piercings are all really a tiny bit the result of hero worship. And for a second, with that fan, he’s cooler than AJ. Not just younger, and more popular, and perhaps less fucked up. Cooler. And that makes it all worth it. Mostly he plays Kevin, and the fans. Kevin because it is fucking funny, and because Kevin is always all up in his business. Nick can’t even take a fifteen-minute break during rehearsal without having to suffer through 20 minutes of interrogation from Kevin. Now when Kevin asks what Nick’s up to, where he’s been, Nick says “saving Orlando from the evil schemes of Jesse Ventura,” or “On a date with a drag queen that looked like Pam Anderson.” Kevin frowns and Brian says “Jesse Ventura is in Orlando?” and that’s the end of it. Kevin catches on quick. He’s annoying but he’s not stupid. It doesn’t take long before he just stops asking Nick questions all together. And when he does ask, and he can tell that Nick’s at it again, he just sort of shakes his head and walks away. Really, when Nick starts it he doesn’t take into account how much it will actually benefit him. The fans are fun because they’ll believe anything Nick tells them. He can tell them that he broke his ankle skydiving when his parachute didn’t release on time but, through the miracles of modern technology, they were able to fuse the bones back together. He was good as new overnight, and they just smile and coo and say that they are sooo glad that he’s all right. And can they please have an autograph? And a hug. They always want hugs. Nick tells one poor young girl that he has a sort of touching disease and that he can’t give her a hug because if he touches her she will start to grow moss on her skin. She wrinkles her nose and pouts a little, but decides that she doesn’t want a hug after all. AJ laughs and Howie punches Nick in the arm, almost hard, because Howie doesn’t condone being mean to fans. Kevin is pissed too. Kevin always worries about the well being of the fans and he doesn’t buy it when Nick says that it is for their well being. Who wants fans covered in moss?  “I want a Whopper,” Nick informs Brian as they pull up to the drive-thru, “with cheese.” Brian nods and orders and when they get back to the hotel and Nick opens his bag and pulls out the Whopper he looks confused. “What?” Brian asks, picking at his grilled slab of faux-chicken. “I told you that I wanted a fish sandwich,” Nick says, frowning at the onions on the burger. Eventually it starts to get old. The guys are all fed up. Brian hates it because it confuses him. Nick has him convinced that he is losing his short-term memory prematurely for three days, and he makes Brian watch Momento twice to illustrate what his life will soon be like. Brian sort of freaks out, and starts avoiding Leigh Anne, and AJ ends up having to clue Brian in on the fact he isn’t forgetting important facts about his friends or what he did two days earlier. He hasn’t actually forgotten that Nick is allergic to tomatoes and iceberg lettuce because Nick isn’t allergic to them. And they certainly didn’t attend a press conference last Tuesday during which they announced that their next album would be composed entirely of salsa music. It doesn’t matter that Nick says that he remembers the hot reporter in the front row that was wearing a sheer black shirt that he could see her bra through. Or that he remembers Howie tipping over his water bottle, so excited about salsa, and nearly electrocuting them all with the wet microphones. It didn’t happen. Brian isn’t too happy with Nick after that. In fact he refuses to speak to him for a few days, which makes it loads of fun to finish the song they’re working on together. There are other set backs, as well. For one thing, it’s a lot more difficult than it seemed in the beginning. Brian’s pretty gullible, but Kevin listens to everything closely and sometimes it gets complicated. He has to try to remember intricate details of a fabricated tale from hours earlier and as soon as he slips up it’s over. He’s been caught. The problem is that mostly he only sees the guys, and they are pretty attuned to it by now. They know just about everything that Nick does anyway, so they hardly ever believe him. When they do, all it takes is one false move, no matter how small, and that’s it. It’s gotten rather boring with the fans. There’s no challenge. Nick needs a challenge. He thinks that really it’s just an extension of himself. But then he rethinks it because it occurs to him that his favorite color really is green. Pizza really is his favorite food. And really he would take a girl to the beach on his ideal date. This messes with the metaphor, and so the next time someone asks he says “blue. My favorite color is blue.” Howie gets pissed and claims that Nick is a moron because now 3/5 of the band have the same favorite color. Nick rolls his eyes and tells Howie that he’s a “big dork”, but the next time he changes it to “orange,” and he makes a mental note to come up with a better insult than “big dork.” If they are going to call each other names, they might as well not sound like second graders while doing it. He thinks that “come bubble” will probably do the trick. He tells the woman at that early show on CBS, the one that he can never remember the name of, that his favorite song is “All I Have to Give.” Howie raises his eyebrows and stumbles over his own answer because he knows that Nick absolutely hates All I Have to Give and bitches and whines every time they have to sing it. Howie calls him on it afterward, and Nick tries out his new nickname, which begins a shouting match of epic proportions that requires the intervention of both Kevin and Brian. The interviews spice it up a bit. Even if the guys know what he’s doing, they won’t dare say anything on television. They’ll save it for later, and by then it’s too late. Nick gets into a kerfuffle at a local club and really, he doesn’t like the way he comes off after the whole thing. It’s actually not a big deal, but the patrons of the club aren’t exactly fans and their eyewitness testimonies paint Nick as the biggest fucking loser ever. Nick doesn’t have a clue what he can do about it. He plays around on the Internet and suddenly there’s a strange story about him pulling out his massive dick and waving it around. It’s not true, and it’s not really a better or less embarrassing story. Well, less embarrassing, yes. Anything is less embarrassing than everyone thinking that he’s a blubbering whiny crybaby. Besides, now everyone thinks he’s “massive”. He’s glad when the whole thing blows over quickly. Sometimes Nick thinks that he needs new friends. He catches himself thinking that if he were in *Nsync his bandmates would laugh at the game and soon they would all be joining in. He feels dirty later for thinking that and reassures himself that he would never actually want to be in *Nsync, ever. He loves Backstreet, and reminds himself that although *Nsync often appears to be fun loving and carefree, appearances are often deceiving. Besides, he shudders at the thought of having to live with Timberlake. He gets over his guilt by telling MTV that he’s working on a solo album. He’s even thinking about doing a duet with JC. “You’re what?!” Kevin fumes. “Duet. JC. Cool, huh?” Nick says, not really looking up from the video game he is winning (losing). “So were you planning on telling us about your plans for a solo album?” Brian asks, and he’s frowning and looks really worried and upset, but Nick doesn’t know because he’s still concentrating on dying in his video game. “Nah,” Nick says, biting his tongue a little. “Are you going to, you know, quit?” Brian asks and his voice cracks. “Probably,” Nick says and Brian leaves the room quickly. “Asshole,” Kevin mutters and follows Brian out. “Toe sucker,” Nick retorts, but Kevin has already left. Nick feels really bad about the whole Brian thing. He wracks his brain on ways to make it up to him, but can’t really come up with much. Brian avoids Nick for awhile, because it just isn’t funny, and Nick knows it. He’s getting avoided a lot lately. He lays off a bit, messing only a little with Kevin and not doing it at all with Brian. The next time he makes a late run to Burger King, he tells Brian he wants a Whopper. Brian orders him a fish sandwich. Nick really wants the Whopper, but he doesn’t say anything. AJ was bitter the first time Nick did it to him, but he thought it was funny when Nick fooled with Kevin. Nick thinks that AJ would probably join him if he weren’t so caught up in being AJ-post-rehab. He’s all into acting responsibly and he rarely leaves Kevin’s side at parties. Sometimes Nick thinks that AJ-post-rehab is pretty lame, but figures that it’s the lesser of two evils. AJ announced his engagement at the beginning of the game, when no one really knew what was happening. Nick had said, “Congrats, man. That’s so great. Sarah is perfect.” He guesses that AJ probably wouldn’t like it much if he knew. Nick sits down beside Brian in the studio. They are recording again. Nick thinks it’s fun, laying down tracks. He used to hate it; hated singing the same line over and over until it was perfect. He likes it now, though. He thinks maybe part of that is due to the fact that he’s become accustomed to the environment, and so it no longer takes him fifteen tries to nail one line. “I hate recording,” Nick tells Brian. “You do?” “Yeah,” Nick nods and he throws a stack of papers onto the table for emphasis. “Oh. I thought…” Brian trails off. “No,” Nick says, “Hate it.” And that’s when it comes to him. Nick tells AJ that he thinks the labrette piercing is sexy and he should bring it back. AJ flips him off and walks out of the studio, undoubtedly to go bitch to Kevin that Nick is still at it. Howie watches the exchange and sits beside Nick. “You shouldn’t provoke him,” Howie says. Nick nods and leans on Howie’s shoulder. “I love you,” Nick tells Howie, and he does. “Love you too, Nicky,” Howie says, patting him on the back. “No,” Nick says the next day during a break in recording, “I really like you.” “I know, Nick.” Howie rolls his eyes and laughs. Kevin watches and frowns. Nick stops for a few days after that. Kevin’s still mad about the labrette thing, because Nick had told him that he’d stopped. Nick isn’t sure what the big deal is. Who’s to say that he doesn’t really think it’s sexy? People say AJ’s sexy all the time. But the last thing he needs is Kevin breathing down his neck and so he backs off. He only lasts a few days before he tells a magazine that Brian really likes it when girls don’t shave their armpits. Brian shakes his head and just shrugs. “You don’t get it,” Nick says when Howie stops by one late afternoon. “Don’t get what?” Howie asks and Nick thinks that it’s a little too easy. Howie never thinks that Nick is messing with him, not even after the first time, or the time after that. Nick feels bad, but he’s only going to play it for a bit, freak Howie out a little, then he’ll tell him, or he’ll let Kevin catch on and tell him. “You’re my favorite,” Nick says and this time when he says it he puts the emphasis on the favorite and Howie’s eyes open wide. “You…what?” Howie stumbles over his words, clears his throat and tries to cover by saying, “Of course. We’re best friends, like I say, brothers. You love all of us.” “But you most,” Nick counters. “Oh,” Howie says, as he backs out the door and into the driveway, “I just remembered I have. Uh. Bye.” Howie waves a little before jogging back to his car. Nick thinks that Howie probably understood this time. That’s it for awhile and Nick figures that Howie must have gone to Kevin. Kevin would have told Howie what Nick was up to, because of course, Kevin would know. And that would explain why Howie is acting as though it’s no big deal, or more like it never happened. Really it’s just as well, because he doesn’t really want to be mean, and he thinks he might have been on the border there, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. Or jump. “So, uh,” Howie shows up at Nick’s house a week later, stumbling over words and shuffling his feet. shit. “I’ve been thinking, and,” Howie looks at Nick and he blushes a little and then kind of looks behind Nick and says, “You gonna let me in?” Nick laughs and says “No” but moves aside to let Howie by. They talk over pizza and Howie seems to have forgotten what he was thinking about when he was blushing on the doorstep, and Nick thinks that he’s probably glad Howie forgot, so he doesn’t mention it. “You’re nuts,” Howie laughs, “I think we would have known if you’d had huge orgies every night in Germany.” “No,” Nick says, “we made sure to be quiet.” “You were, like, 12! You shared a room with Brian! There’s no way he would sleep through 6 people having sex in the bed next to him!” Nick shrugs, “well, he did.” It’s quiet after that and Nick thinks later that bringing up sex might not have been the best idea, because Howie is picking at his pizza and then he looks at Nick. “I’ve been thinking,” Howie says and Nick frowns, “about…you know.” “Brian’s secret midnight Burger King runs?” Howie laughs, “No. I haven’t been lying awake at night worrying that Brian is growing a gut.” Nick smiles and he thinks maybe it’s passed but then Howie says “I think I do too, Nick,” and this whole thing seems like the worst idea Nick has ever had suddenly. He blanches and just stares at Howie and wishes that he never told Kevin that thing about the fucking and that girl. “You do, what?” Nick asks cautiously. Howie looks away, “You know.” Nick does know, so he just nods and Howie gets up to move closer. Nick reacts sort of badly, jumping off his stool and skidding across the kitchen. Howie stops and eyes Nick, and he squints his eyes. Nick recognizes it as Howie’s confused face. “What –“ Howie starts and Nick just shrugs and Howie’s expression goes from the level 2 confused face, to level 4, which includes the addition of a gaping mouth. “You’re scared?” he asks, quietly. Nick nods, not sure what else to say. And Howie smiles and moves closer. It’s almost predatory, Nick thinks, and it instantly reminds him of AJ. He bets that’s where Howie learned to do that. He stops paying attention for a second and then Howie has reached him and he’s sort of trapped against the counter. “Are you ok?” Howie asks, and Nick can feel his breath on his neck, and he wants to say no. He really wants to say it. Because he’s totally not okay with this and he never really thought about this when he started it. Never. He should say “no.” No, the game ends here. No, this is the worst idea we’ve ever had. No, Howie. No. “Yeah,” Nick says and he’s not sure where it came from. Nick’s lost control, which explains why he moans and pulls Howie closer as soon as their lips touch. It’s not because the kiss is good, or because Howie’s lips are infinitely softer and more pliant than Nick ever would have guessed. Nick’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Howie’s tongue flickers out and licks at the corner of Nick’s mouth just a little, questioning. It’s not Nick, it’s the game. So it’s not his fault that as soon as Howie’s tongue asks for permission, Nick opens his mouth, and grips Howie’s arms a little harder. He means to push Howie away. He pulls him closer. Finally, it’s Howie who backs away, and when Nick opens his eyes, Howie’s smiling. Nick can’t smile back. Howie leaves shortly afterward. Nick’s pretty sure that they talk for a while, but he doesn’t remember what they talk about and he can’t imagine what he says. Nick hasn’t played Brian since the memory loss thing, and so he can’t quite figure out why Brian has decided that Whopper permanently means fish sandwich. He also can’t quite discern why he keeps taking these trips to Burger King with Brian at all. They go, they eat, and then Brian bitches that he needs to stop eating Burger King. Nick’s pretty sure Brian’s addicted. He suggests that Brian talk to AJ and Brian punches him, and calls him a “come dumpster”, which pisses Nick off because that sounds infinitely more disgusting than any name he’s thought of. He writes it down on a napkin for future reference. When Brian asks Nick if there is something going on with Howie, Nick says “no.” Nick isn’t sure when he starts doing it to himself. Maybe he has since the beginning. Sometimes he thinks it started even before. Howie drops by on a regular basis, which isn’t particularly unusual, except that now his visits involve kissing and promises and secrets. Nick doesn’t like it. He doesn’t, but he’s afraid that if he backs out now, he’ll hurt Howie. So he pretends he likes the kisses. Nick is a much better actor than they all think. Nick has a feeling that on that first day, the day that Howie first kissed him, Nick told Howie that they could do it again. He thinks he might have promised not to tell anyone, even the other guys. Nick doesn’t remember it, but Howie reminds him in whispers against his lips. When Howie starts to take off Nick’s shirt, Nick tells himself that it’s okay, and he believes it. “hey, Nick. What’s shakin’?” AJ slaps him on the back as he passes in the hall. Nick is taking a quick break from recording. He was on his way to pee, but he thinks he might have gotten lost. “I’m not going to fuck Howie,” Nick says. AJ stops and turns. “What?” “I’m not going to drink Drano?” Nick asks, and squints because he really sucks at spontaneous rhyming. AJ glances around, as though he’s looking for someone other than the two of them in the hallway. Nick looks too, no one there. Just the random pictures that studios hang on the walls in their hallways, displaying artists that have utilized their facilities. “Good,” AJ says and goes back inside. Nick can hear Kevin and Brian arguing as the door opens. Nick stares at a photo of Usher, posing with some record execs, a big grin on his face and making a thumbs up gesture. One good thing about the game is that people start to expect Nick to say fucked up things that don’t make sense. Brian calls Nick unexpectedly while Howie’s hand is down Nick’s pants, and Nick is not at all enjoying it, despite the fact that he’s moaning and about to come. He’s breathless when he picks up the phone. “What,” he says, concentrating hard not to make any noise that would indicate what they’re doing. Howie smiles up at Nick, his lips slightly swollen, although Nick isn’t sure why. “Hey,” Brian says, nonchalant, and Nick groans, not because of the hand gripping his cock firmly, the thumb flicking over the tip. He groans because Brian’s called to chat, and now really isn’t the time. Brian always gets like this when they are recording. He’s stuck in Florida, and his wife’s in Georgia, and so he becomes a clingy girl in need of companionship and late night phone chats about AJ’s latest fashion blunders. “Not now, Rok,” Nick moans into the phone, and he’s pleased that it sounds impatient and not at all needy and sex-charged. “What?” Brian asks, and Nick knows that he’s going to have to be blunt. “I can’t talk, Howie’s jacking me off.” Howie stops moving for a second and Nick thrusts up a little, trying to start him up again. He looks down and Howie’s frowning, and it’s confused expression, level 3. Oh. “Sure,” Brian says, “You’re such a liar.” That’s a new one. Brian’s never called him that before. “oh,” Nick says, “Wait a second, kay?” and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. It’s an amazing feat really, what with Howie’s hand, unmoving and rigid in his pants, and Nick still pretty close to explosion. “Brian? You still there?” “Yeah,” Brian says, and he sounds annoyed. “You’re a win – oh,” Howie chooses that moment to begin moving again, “Window dresser,” Nick finishes, reading his scrawl off the paper, squinting to make it out without his glasses. “window dresser?” Howie murmurs, at the same moment that Brian says “What?” “Yeah,” Nick says, pausing to grunt a little, “Window dresser. You never pull down the shades while dressing.” “Oh,” Brian sounds confused, Nick thinks he’s probably at level 2, at least, “right, well, I’ll talk to you later.” He says as he hangs up and Nick comes. Howie nuzzles Nick’s neck a little before he says, “I think we need to talk.” “We talk,” Nick replies, removing his hand from Howie’s hair. “We do not. I talk and you pretend to listen. That’s not talking.” “Okay,” Nick says, and he sits up, folding his legs beneath him. He’s half dressed, and suddenly a little cold, but he refuses to cross his arms over his chest, resting them instead on his knees. “What are we doing?,” Howie asks, and Nick frowns, because he thought that Howie knew at least what he was doing, even if Nick didn’t really. “I thought, we – you,” The game has given Nick a quick tongue, something that he’s never possessed, but what’s the point if it abandons him when he needs it most? “You aren’t still playing with us, are you?” Howie asks, frowning and fingering his watch. “I didn’t,” Nick blurts out, thinking that this is his chance, he should tell Howie. End it before anything too serious happens. Yes, he thinks, but it’s “No,” that finally comes out, clear and firm. “Oh,” Howie says, and he’s looking at the floor. “Howie –“ Nick starts, placing a hand on Howie’s knee. He wants to try again. Tell him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Howie, and he is hurting Howie. Howie just doesn’t know it yet. Nick looks at Howie and tries to summon up the courage to tell his friend. He opens his mouth, about to say it, he knows it will come out right this time, but then Howie looks up, and he’s smiling now, eyes large and sparkling. “Yeah?” he says, and Nick closes his mouth. “Nothing,” he mumbles. Howie rubs a hand over Nick’s, still resting on Howie’s knee. “I’m supposed to meet AJ in the studio,” Howie says, leaning over and kissing Nick softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Nick nods and Howie gets up, leaving Nick alone on the couch. He crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing a little. It’s cold. Nick isn’t really sure what Howie thinks is going on. So far, all that’s come out of this is a few kisses and a handjob. Not really a big deal. But then, Nick knows Howie, knows that Howie doesn’t mess around with anyone unless he’s serious. That’s what worries him. That Howie’s serious. Howie has to leave Florida for a week to do some Lupus Foundation things. It’s been planned for awhile, but Nick doesn’t remember ever having heard about it before. Howie rubs a hand softly across Nick’s stomach as he suggests that Nick come with him, help draw in some crowds. Howie’s fingers are long, his hands small, and Nick plucks at them affectionately as they trace circles over his shirt. He declines the offer, primarily because Kevin’s mother is in town, and he hasn’t seen her in over a year. At the airport Howie hugs him possessively and kisses beneath his ear, nothing too obvious, just a friendly hug to the casual observer. Nick waves from the window, the large form of his bodyguard comforting beside him. At first he misses Howie, misses his nearly constant presence. The house seems empty and Nick spends a lot more time watching television, mostly whatever they are showing on Animal Planet. It doesn’t take him too long to realize that this is exactly what he needs. Howie’s absence gives Nick some breathing room, some time to think about how he’s going to fix this. The television is abandoned and Nick ends up spending most of the week in front of the mirror, rehearsing the words. The plan is that if he can memorize exactly what he’ll say to Howie, then maybe the memorized speech will actually make it out of his mouth. He doesn’t visit Kevin’s mother, even when Kevin invites him out to lunch. Nick’s practicing appropriate facial expressions in front of his bathroom mirror when the phone rings. He stares blankly at himself for a moment, registering, and then rushes out of the bathroom, bouncing off the opposite wall in the hallway, and reaching the phone in the den right before the machine picks up. “Hello?” he says, a little breathless. “Nick?” AJ’s voice replies. “Yep,” Nick says, throwing himself on the worn plaid couch and rubbing his stomach a bit beneath his white tank top. “what’s up?” “Actually, I was just calling to see if you were home,” AJ says, but it sounds to Nick like he’s calling for more than that, “I’m going to drop by in about half an hour, okay?” Nick shrugs, plucking the waistband of his track pants and says “Sure.” “Great, see you then,” AJ says, hanging up the phone, and Nick looks at it for a few moments before dropping it onto the receiver. AJ’s voice sounds tinny, metallic when Nick replays the conversation in his head, and Nick knows that he’s not just dropping by on a whim. Something’s up. He heads back to the bathroom, determined to get a few more minutes of rehearsal in. Nick stands in front of the mirror, his hands supporting himself on the edge of the marble sink. The mirror is warped a bit, exactly at Nick’s height, and it makes him look squinty, angry just a little. Nick stares, bobbing up and down around the warped area, and then he straightens, frowns and says, “It was just part of the game, Howie,” but it sounds too harsh, cruel, even if it is the truth. Nick clears his throat and tries again, shrugging helplessly and mumbling, “I got carried away. I’m sorry.” But that gets rejected too, with a shake of Nick’s head. His hair flops into his face and he blows it away, making note that he should set up a trim soon. Howie likes it long, likes to run his hands through it, likes to get his fingers tangled. He likes to pull a little, but not enough to really hurt. Nick had planned to get it trimmed days ago, and he’s not sure why he called to cancel, or if he even did. Maybe he just didn’t go. Either way, he will call tomorrow. Some of it has to go in order to save his sanity. Just a little though. Nick runs a hand through it now, fingers massaging his scalp a bit, and says, “I didn’t mean I liked you like that.” That’s never going to work, and neither is “I thought we were just fooling around,” or “I missed that stage in college reserved for experimentation. I’m trying to catch up,” because Howie knows that Nick has experimented before, knows that Nick knows that Howie doesn’t fool around. Maybe if he cries. Howie’s a sucker for crying. Nick stares at himself hard in the mirror, stares at his squinty warped face, and wills the tears to come. He puts all of his concentration into it and only ends up laughing once, not because it’s funny really, but mostly because he looks constipated. Finally he feels his eyes begin to get wet and he squeezes them shut, fisting his hands a little against the counter. It’s then that AJ saunters into the bathroom. “Nick, what the hell,” he says jumping up to sit on the counter, pushing aside some hair care products and a damp hand towel, “I’ve been downstairs calling you for the last ten minutes.” “Oh,” Nick says, frowning a bit and sitting on the toilet, “I didn’t hear you.” He blinks rapidly, pushing back the water in his eyes and tries to smile at AJ, but ends up with a squinty lopsided half-grin that makes AJ laugh at him. “Obviously,” AJ snorts and Nick flips him off. “what are you doing in here, anyway? Plucking your eyebrows?” “Fuck you, meatball,” Nick mutters and gets off the toilet. “Meatball?” AJ asks, following Nick into the den. He sits in a large leather recliner, spread out and feline. Nick’s pretty sure that AJ’s trying to look sexy. Trying to look cool. Nick is pretty much immune. “You talk to Howie lately?” he asks, watching as Nick sprawls on the floor, grabbing a blanket off the couch to use as a pillow. “Nope,” Nick says, “Haven’t heard from him since he left.” “Maybe you should answer your phone,” AJ spits back quickly, and Nick protests that the phone hasn’t been ringing, no one has called him but AJ, and he did answer the phone. He follows AJ’s arched eyebrows and pointing finger and there’s his machine, and the message light is blinking, and if Nick stands up he’ll be able to see that he has 9 messages. “I think maybe there’s something wrong with the ringer,” Nick suggests and AJ scowls. Nick’s gaze doesn’t waver though, and eventually AJ’s expression neutralizes and he just shrugs. They talk for awhile, about AJ’s new song, about Brian’s new haircut and Sarah’s penchant for horrible music. AJ brings up the game, asks Nick if he’s still at it, and Nick says “no,” tells AJ that it got boring and AJ smiles and nods and looks like he understands perfectly how boring it could get. Nick still thinks that if AJ wasn’t so busy being the new AJ, he would have gladly joined in on the fun. AJ would have been good at it too, probably better than Nick. He never would have gotten himself into this mess with Howie. AJ’s still smiling at him as Nick walks him to the door. He gives AJ a hug, watching a young girl in a bright purple helmet pedal by on a bicycle through the open door. The girl stops in front of Nick’s gate, staring for a second before waving and pedaling on. Nick releases AJ, who steps out on the front porch, unlocking his car with the remote and saying, “Howie said to tell you that he misses you. That he loves you,” as he heads across the lawn. Nick stares after him, not really comprehending, wondering if that’s the same girl that delivers his paper every morning, and if it is, he should stop her, tell her not to throw it in the birdbath. AJ is to his car when Nick finally listens and he doesn’t seem to hear when Nick rushes across the lawn after him yelling “Howie said what? AJ! Wait.” AJ waves and drives away. Nick rushes back into the house, hitching up his pants along the way, and stops by the phone in the kitchen. The machine is blinking and reads “9” in the new messages box. Nick sighs, sitting on a stool beside the machine. He could just delete them. Say the phone is broken, he never got the messages. But AJ saw it, noticed the blinking right away, and he would know if Nick deleted them. Nick hits a button and listens as the recordings begin to play. The first two are from Howie, Standard messages, he arrived all right, the hotel is nice, weather’s beautiful, wish you were here. “Hey, Nick. Just calling to see if you wanted to do something, get something to eat or whatever,” Brian. He must’ve wanted Burger King. Nick’s glad he missed that one. “Nick. It’s Howie. I miss you, call me please. Adios.” Nick smiles a little. Howie’s such a geek. “Nick. It’s your mother. Call when you get this.” “Pick up the phone. Where are you? I’m getting worried. This is Howie. Love you,” Nick stares at the box for a moment, eyes wide. He reaches out to rewind, but the tape moves on to the next message and he pauses. “Nick. Kevin. It’s 6:30pm Wednesday. Where the hell are you? You told me you weren’t going anywhere this evening. You’re not still playing that fucking childish game. Answer the phone.” Nick rolls his eyes and makes a note to call Kevin a liberty bell next time he sees him. Kevin’s half cracked. The next one’s a hang-up. “Nick, me again. I just – call me, okay? I miss you. I miss hearing you. See you Sunday,” “Fuck,” Nick groans. “Holy Shit,” Brian drawls, exaggerating his accent. That’s Nick’s first indication that it’s going to be a bad day. Brian sounds a hell of a lot more like a hick when he’s pissed off. Kevin and AJ look up from the stack of papers they are leafing through and Nick just frowns at them and throws his stuff on the couch against the wall. “Look who actually got dressed and decided to show up for work today,” Kevin notes, eyebrows raised so that they are still thick straight black lines, but now rest a tad higher on his forehead. Nick isn’t really sure if Kevin is commenting on the fact that he showed up, or the fact that he’s dressed, but really neither is particularly extraordinary. As far as Nick can recall he’s been coming into the studio all week, most days in his uniform track pants and wifebeater. He looks down at the worn jeans and light turtleneck sweater he’s wearing now and shrugs. Can’t someone get up early once in awhile. He even had time to brush his newly trimmed hair, rather than tossing on a baseball cap. “What’s the special occasion?” Brian asks, but they’re all looking at him as though they already know, which is funny, because Nick doesn’t think there is one, so he just says “Fuck off,” and sits on the couch, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. “It wasn’t fuckin’ flat,” AJ bellows in his gravelly smokers voice. “It was,” Brian says, shaking his head but keeping his voice relatively calm. Nick’s pretty sure he agrees with Brian but he’s only really been paying partial attention so he could be wrong. Either way, he’s not going to speak up. And AJ isn’t going to record the part again, at least not today, Nick knows that much. Kevin is in the corner, on the phone with Kristin, and he has one ear plugged to drown out their yelling. Nick has a sneaking suspicion that they might be holding out until Kevin gets off and separates them. If Howie were here, the fight would be settled already, but Howie isn’t due back until late afternoon. Nick supposes that he could step into Howie’s place, but he’s never been a peacemaker, and he doesn’t think he can start now. They never used to fight while recording. If there was a disagreement over parts or who’s screwing up, they discussed it civilly, usually abandoning the studio to go out for pizza or a few beers. Now it seems like all they ever do is argue. First it was about management, then it was about the style they were going for. Next they argued about whether it was a good idea to record with Max Martin at all, maybe they should just stay out of Sweden. Brian is particularly hot tempered this time around, and combined with AJ and Nick’s short fuses it hasn’t made for the most pleasant recording sessions. Nick has cooled down in the past few weeks, though. He’s moved from touchy and stubborn to pretty much indifferent, going along with whatever they tell him. It’s actually been relatively quiet with Howie gone the past week, although Nick doesn’t think they’ve gotten all that much done. Kevin showed up on Tuesday with a mohawk, which caused Brian’s mouth to hit the floor and AJ to fall off the couch laughing. Kevin flipped them off before turning to Nick and saying “Well? Don’t you have something to say?” But all Nick could do was shrug and say “I like it.” His response set Brian off, giggling uncontrollably, and AJ, still shaking, dropped his head in his hands and said, “Shit, I can’t believe he’s still doing that.” Nick isn’t quite sure what he meant by that. The rest of the week was so boring and non-eventful that Nick can almost forget it even happened. Now it’s Sunday, and it’s dragging. He listens to gibes about his attire all morning, which is just stupid because he actually looks good for once, and then the studio people bring sausage bread for lunch. Nick absolutely hates sausage, but he smiles and eats it and when Brian looks at him stunned, he says, “Not bad,” even though it tastes like ass. Now he’s back on the couch, ignoring Brian and AJ, and doodling on the back of the lyrics to a song that Kevin wrote. It’s pretty good, actually, and Nick is impressed after Kevin’s lame contribution on the last album. “Come on, AJ,” Brian says, and it’s more like a whine, but not nearly as effective as it would have been if it was Nick saying it, “Can’t you just do it once more? It’ll take two seconds.” “Fuck off, meatball,” AJ mutters throwing himself down on the couch beside Nick. Nick tries to move away so that AJ can’t peak over his shoulder, but AJ gives him a look and just shoves him over a little. “A meatball?” Brian questions and turns toward the soundbooth, finally willing to record his own part. He’s completely unprepared for the couch pillow that comes flying at his head and swings back around to glare at Nick and AJ. Nick is still trying to ignore them, and doesn’t notice that AJ has pointed an accusatory finger at him until he is hit with the offending pillow, causing his hand to jerk and scratch a thick line over his drawing. “Fucker,” Nick mumbles quietly, because Kevin is off the phone now and he’s giving them all his patented evil glare of doom. AJ shrugs out to piss and Nick returns to his drawing. The afternoon drags on, and Nick glances at his watch every five minutes or so. It’s not often that he is completely, absolutely, fucking bored with his job, but it’s apparently one of those rare days. He sighs and watches Brian sing, as AJ and Kevin fiddle with some knobs on the control panel. The studio guy, Nick thinks his name might be Fred, or Alan, is trying to teach Kevin something, and Kevin has to keep swatting AJ’s hands away. Brian is rapping on the window, trying to get Kevin’s attention, because he’s not sure when they want him to start. Nick watches, not bothering to alert Kevin. Brian is just about to smash his face against the glass when Howie enters the studio, still carrying his luggage. Everyone sort of stops what they are doing and stares, because they didn’t really expect Howie to record today, what with jet lag and everything. Brian comes rushing out of the sound booth, hugging Howie and exclaiming, “Thank god. Save me from these people!” which causes shouts of protest from AJ and Fred/Alan, or maybe it was Bill. Howie laughs and hugs Brian, dropping his duffel on the floor. Nick is sort of taken aback by Howie’s sudden appearance and his rehearsed response bubbles up in his throat, ready to burst forth, but he swallows it and smiles at Brian’s overly enthusiastic display of affection. Howie pushes Brian away as he gapes at Kevin. Brian feigns hurt, pouting and dragging himself slowly back to the sound booth. “Geez. What the heck happened while I was gone?” Howie asks, turning to Nick who’s still smiling. Howie’s face is blank for a moment, then it softens and he too is smiling and moving to sit down next to Nick, kissing him lightly on the lips. Nick’s smile widens and he kisses Howie again, before pulling away. They’re all kind of quiet after that. Howie doesn’t ask about the phone calls and he still stops by regularly. Mostly they just talk, watch movies. Nick doesn’t tell Howie about the game though. He tells himself that he’s simply waiting for the right moment. Howie hasn’t touched Nick since the chaste kisses in the studio, and frankly Nick is becoming a little disturbed by it. Nick gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of some special on the Galapagos Islands and when he returns, he sits beside Howie rather than at the other end of the couch. He doesn’t even notice that he does it at first, snuggling into Howie’s side, until he feels Howie stiffen a little against him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the movie, but Nick can tell he’s concentrating hard, and is probably fighting not to get up and move away. Nick asks Howie if he wants a drink, heading to the kitchen to grab some cola’s and when he returns he retreats back to his old spot. Nick thinks that maybe Howie was just in a foul mood, but when he sidles up beside him in the hallway of the studio and kisses his neck, breathing in Howie’s shampoo and sighing, Howie slips out from under his arm. Nick opens his mouth to say something but Howie’s mumbling about Burger King and Brian and then he’s heading off. He should be thrilled about the rejection. It’s the easiest out he’s ever been offered. He doesn’t need to confess, it’s just over. No one really gets hurt. Howie doesn’t even drop by as often anymore, and within a few days it seems as though things are back to normal. Nick spends his Saturday afternoon turning them all into FBI agents, pulling out his charcoals, the works. It’s a little silly, turning your friends into various alter-ego’s, but it’s something that Nick’s done for years, and at times it was the only comfort he had on the road. It’s while he’s taking extra care penciling in Howie’s determined secret agent expression and trying to figure out if the empty feeling in his stomach is due to hunger that Nick realizes maybe there’s a reason he can’t bring himself to tell Howie the truth. “What if –“ Brian starts as AJ exits the sound booth. He stops and looks at Brian, holding up his hands and opening his eyes wide. “Don’t even start, Rok,” AJ says and Nick laughs, hugging the couch pillows to his chest. “But –“ Brian starts, his voice a little higher this time. He’s sitting on a stool beside Kevin, who’s playing with some dials on the board and looking intense. “No.” AJ responds firmly and Nick waits for him to go into the Austin Powers “zip it” routine. Howie looks up from the lyrics he’s reading and calmly surveys the scene. AJ and Brian both eye him, waiting to be told to shut up, and when Howie goes back to reading AJ heads toward Nick muttering “Flat my ass,” but when Brian asks “What?!” AJ raises his voice to retort, “I said you’re a Creed fan.” Brian’s mouth drops open in disbelief and AJ smirks at Nick, facing away from Brian. He’s still smirking when Brian pounces at him, knocking him to the ground at Nick’s feet. They scuffle for a bit, and the shouts and cries soon turn into childish laughter. Brian rolls AJ easily over his body so that AJ’s legs flop in the air and land on Nick’s lap. “Hey,” Nick cries, “leave me outta this!” and he pulls himself all the way up onto the couch, tucking his feet beneath him and sort of squatting on the cushion. This stance leaves him a bit off balance and so he falls easily into the brawl when Brian unexpectedly reaches up and grabs his arm. Nick doesn’t think it’s quite fair that AJ and Brian have decided to gang up on the innocent bystander, tickling him mercilessly beneath his shirt, but he’s glad he held onto the pillow when he fell, using it to ward off his attackers. Howie makes the mistake of leaving his seat to bring some papers over to Kevin and Nick quickly accosts him, latching onto Howie’s legs so he can’t move. He crumbles to the floor - practically landing on Nick’s head - when AJ accidentally kicks the backs of his knees trying to escape Brian, who’s now howling “Creed fan!? You think I’m a Creed fan! You botard!” Brian likes to use the cheesy 80’s names, which usually cause more laughter than offense. Howie’s trying to collect the papers he was carrying, but most of them are crumpled beneath AJ and Nick and finally he just gives up and tries to get himself out of the mess, sacrificing the song lyrics. Nick’s got a firm grip around Howie’s waist, however, and knows that Howie’s not going anywhere, not without him. Bill/Fred/Alan walks in then, carrying a tray of coffee and they all freeze, staring at him. “Uh,” he manages, glancing across the Backstreet pile at Kevin, who’s still sitting safely on his stool. Kevin shrugs and looks to all the world like he has no idea who any of these people are. Brian gets up, coughing a little, and proceeds to collect his shoes and one of his socks, that somehow ended up across the small room, practically in the sound booth. AJ is sprawled awkwardly over Nick’s backside, his head almost beneath the couch and he reaches underneath, pulling out Kevin’s palm pilot that he lost last week and announcing “Found it!” accompanied by a triumphant punch in the air. Howie sighs, and that’s when Nick realizes that he’s still wrapped around Howie’s waist, his head low on Howie’s stomach and his arms gripped around the small of his back. He stirs a little when AJ starts moving, but stops quick, freezing after only a second. Howie’s hard suddenly, and pressed against Nick’s chest. He doesn’t want to move at all now, partly to save Howie from embarrassment, but also because AJ is still bouncing on his ass, and that combined with the knowledge of Howie, beneath him, wanting him, is enough to make Nick hard as well. Finally AJ manages to untangle himself and stand up, stepping on Nick a little in the process. He tosses the palm pilot to Kevin and then turns to poke Howie with his shoes. “Come on, D” he says, “Your turn to record.” Brian, who’s retying his shoes now, looks up, and they all know he wants to say something about AJ re-recording his last part. He gets as far as opening his mouth, then rethinks it and goes back to tying his sneakers. Nick starts to get up, pulling Howie with him. “Why doesn’t Kevin record next? I think I elbowed Howie in the chest, he should probably recover a bit.” Howie smiles gratefully and Nick pulls them both toward the couch, grabbing the couch pillows as he goes. He’s painfully hard now, and rests one of the pillows discreetly over his lap, tossing the other to Howie. Nick listens to Brian and AJ bicker over the controls on the panel. Bill/Alan/Fred tries in vain to keep them from messing with Kevin’s vocals and Nick reaches over and takes Howie’s hand from where it rests on the couch. Howie frowns at him but doesn’t pull away. Nick is pretty sure that it isn’t all part of a game. Not anymore. He goes bowling with AJ and Kevin and AJ proceeds to kick both of their asses. Kevin bitches and mostly sits on the bench quietly waiting his turn. His hair catches a bit too much unwanted attention from the regulars at the alley. Kevin is used to AJ being the blatantly recognizable one and it doesn’t help much that AJ knows many of the patrons and joins in with them on their mocking remarks. AJ sits beside Nick and Kevin and pulls out a cigarette, noting, “You can’t get a fucking mohawk and not expect people to notice it, Kev.” “Fuck. You,” Kevin spits, but there’s a tiny quirk of a smile hidden under Kevin’s scowl. Nick reaches out and scrubs the short sides of Kevin’s head. He really does like the mohawk, he wasn’t kidding. He’d get one of his own, but he figures it probably isn’t the best way to win Howie over. Kevin reaches up to brush Nick off, but he blocks Kevin’s hand and continues to rub, enjoying the prickly, yet soft feel of it. AJ’s cell phone rings and he sets down his cigarette, rustling through his pack and cursing a few times before finally pulling it out. “Yeah,” AJ says into the phone, returning the cigarette to his lips, “Yeah, he’s here. You wanna – Oh, right. Okay. Bye.” Nick and Kevin wait patiently for an explanation, but AJ doesn’t seem eager to give one so Kevin, who’s finally succeeded in knocking Nick away from his head says, “well?” “Oh, right,” AJ gets up to reset the scores on their lane, abandoning his cigarette. Kevin nudges Nick as soon as AJ turns and Nick promptly reaches out, snuffs the cigarette, and slides the ashtray beneath their seats. “D. He’s looking for Nick.” “What’d he want?” Nick asks, ignoring the fluttery happiness in his belly. “Just to know if you were with us. He thought you were ignoring his calls again.” AJ shrugs. “Fuck,” Nick mutters and the flutterys disappear. Howie is checking up on him, doesn’t trust him. It’s not that Howie should trust him, really. None of them should trust him, he pretty much saw to that. Howie has every right not to trust Nick but it’s upsetting because he didn’t ignore the calls the first time around. He didn’t. He knows he didn’t and so he mutters, “my fucking ringer was broken.” And AJ laughs. Kevin gets up, pulling Nick up with him and telling AJ they’ll be right back. Nick follows, wondering when Kevin started needing the buddy system to use the bathroom, and also why he’s keeping such a tight grip on Nick’s arm. Kevin drags Nick into the bathroom, shoving him into a dingy tiled wall. “Shit, Kev. What the –“ “Shut up,” Kevin says, his hands still on Nick’s shoulders keeping him pressed against the wall. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Nick?” Nick’s mouth drops open, because come on! Kevin has him pressed against a dirty bathroom wall in a bowling alley. He’s about to protest, but chooses the snarky way out and says, “If you want a blowjob, Kev, all you have to do is ask.” He doesn’t realize what has happened until he’s hunched over on the floor and the pain in his stomach is sharp and consuming. “Fuck,” he mutters, gasping for breath. Nick looks up and Kevin is leaning against the sink watching him and massaging his hand. Nick grimaces and thinks that Kevin’s pretty weak if a quick punch to Nick’s soft stomach hurt his fist. He keeps his mouth shut this time though. He hears a voice but Kevin’s not talking and he cranes his neck to look around behind him. AJ is there, and he looks distraught. “-can’t believe you did that. Fuck.” AJ shakes his head in disbelief. “He can’t turn everything into one of his sick jokes,” Kevin says, shrugging, “I didn’t hit him that hard.” Nick disagrees with that. He stands and AJ puts a hand on his waist, pulling him back and into AJ’s arms. AJ strokes his back as Nick regains his composure, turning to face Kevin. “You can’t fuck with people like this, Nick,” Kevin says. “I’m not,” Nick whispers, and feels AJ snort against his neck. All right then. Nick isn’t one to accept comfort from those not on his side and so he moves away from AJ. Kevin beckons him over toward the sink and he goes willingly, knowing that Kevin wouldn’t dare hit him again. Instead Kevin reaches out, pulling Nick’s hand away from his stomach. He lifts up Nick’s T-shirt, surveying the damage, cool fingers sliding softly over sore flesh. He frowns and then Nick is hugging Kevin tightly, his face pressed against Kevin’s shoulder, and he feels like he might cry. “You’ve got to quit it with this game thing, Nick. It was mildly amusing in the beginning, but it’s been months now, and people are getting hurt,” Kevin says quietly and Nick just nods. “You’re going to stop? You’re going to – god, Nick. I can’t believe you fucked with Howie like that. You know how he is. You knew he’d jump at a chance to love you.” “I didn’t –“ Nick starts, trailing off, because none of this really matters now anyway. “I want him, Kev.” Nick is speaking into Kevin’s neck and he doesn’t see AJ start or mouth “Holy Shit,” before Kevin stops him with a look. “So then this isn’t part of your - ” Kevin asks, pulling back to watch Nick. “No,” Nick cuts him off, leaning against the sink and swiping the back of his hand across his nose, “I mean. It was – I thought it’d be funny, ya know? I didn’t think – and now. He’s never going to listen to me.” “Maybe not,” Kevin says, “But you should probably try. If that’s what you want.” Nick sniffs a little. “Want us to drive you over there?” AJ asks, pushing himself off the wall. The ride is quiet. At one point AJ starts fidgeting in the front seat, bouncing his leg and playing with the radio stations. “Spit it out,” Kevin says, not taking his eyes off the road. AJ twists around in his seat to face Nick, who’s been staring blankly out the window. “You don’t really like Kevin’s hair, do you?” Kevin rings the bell as AJ uses his keys to unlock the door. Nick protests, saying that they shouldn’t just walk in. He’s nervous and fisting his shirt in his hands. Kevin swats them away, straightening Nick’s clothes a little, dusting the grime from the alley bathroom off his ass. He spins Nick around and nods his approval. “We’re not just going to walk in. You are.” Nick shakes his head in protest, “Can’t I just go home? I’ll talk to Howie tomorrow. We can –“ AJ grabs his arm and pushes him inside before Nick can stop him. Nick stares blankly at the wall across from him, wondering for a second when Howie got the strange womanly metal statue that sits on the shelf where his ugly art deco guitar sculpture used to rest. He hears movement and spins around, pulling the door open and watching the elevator doors close on Kevin and AJ. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting himself back into Howie’s apartment and when he turns, Howie’s there looking at him. “Nick?” he asks, and Nick’s smile is unplanned and real. “Hey Howie,” he says, swinging his arms a little, “I, um. I thought you were hanging out with Brian today.” Howie motions for Nick to come in. Nick follows Howie into the living room, moving to stand in front of the large windows. Nick loves Howie’s apartment, mostly because it looks out over the ocean. His own home is on the water too, of course, but it’s really more of an inlet and doesn’t have quite the same effect for him. He doesn’t notice Howie leave but then he’s right beside him, handing Nick a can of Pepsi, which Nick takes gratefully. Howie collapses onto his couch, propping his feet up on the glass coffee table. It makes Nick smile. Howie’s home always looks so delicate and immaculate. Nick is afraid to touch anything and he never would have dared put his feet anywhere near that table. Howie does it so casually, and he doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes. Nick sits beside him, fingering the chess set on the table and taking a long drink of his soda. “Brian decided to fly back to Georgia for the weekend. He claims he’s giving up Burger King,” Howie says and Nick nods. Brian’s such a wreck whenever they are recording. He’s fine on tour, because the buses are like home to him and they are always so busy that there is really no time to think, let alone get homesick. When they record though, even in Orlando like they are now, he rents an apartment for the few months that he’s there and subsequently can’t cope with the fact that he’s not at home. He refuses to cook for himself and spends a lot of time on the phone with his dogs. Kevin had warned Brian not to sell his place when he and Leigh Anne moved to Georgia, but Brian didn’t listen and Nick has a feeling that Brian has kicked himself more than once for that choice. He’d probably be a lot better if he just stayed with one of them, but he refuses, saying that he needs a place of his own. Even a hotel would make more sense, because Brian’s spent a quarter of his life in hotels. They’re a lot more like home than his small stuffy apartment in downtown Orlando. There’s usually at least one point during recording, or sometimes even promotion, that Brian announces he’s “giving up Burger King” and flying home. They let him go and he comes back in a day or two rejuvenated and much easier to deal with. He’s always done it, although home used to be Kentucky rather than Georgia. Howie has the fireplace going and it makes the often-sterile room seem comfortable and warm. They sit in silence for awhile, thighs touching, and Nick watches the fire, listening to it crackle. He wonders if the crackling is a recording. Nick’s pretty sure that Howie’s fireplace is one of those types with the fake wood where you just flip a switch and it lights up. He thinks about asking Howie if it’s a recording, but if it is he’ll have to laugh and make fun, and he’s not really in the mood for that, so he says nothing. Howie sighs and turns a little to face Nick. At first Nick forgets that he didn’t say the recording thing out loud and he opens his mouth to apologize, but Howie’s lips meet his before the words can come out. It’s like he’s been starved for a week and finally given access to what he’s craved most and he grips Howie’s shirt, moaning before Howie’s tongue even slips between his lips. Nick was passive when this began. He was convinced that it wasn’t real, and so he let Howie kiss him, let Howie touch him, but did very little himself. It’s real now. Nick wants to touch. He moves up onto the couch, kneeling over Howie, and Howie gasps in surprise, not used to Nick taking control. His tongue dips in to taste, sliding along Howie’s teeth before probing deeper. Howie’s mouth is a little cold from the soda and he tastes like cola and cinnamon. The fire crackles in the background as Nick kisses his way from Howie’s lips back to his ear, and down his neck. Howie’s fingers are in his hair now, and Nick licks and bites, just a little, feeling Howie arch off the couch and up against him. Nick continues his ministrations on Howie’s neck as he kicks off his shoes. They drop to the floor with a thud that sounds surprisingly loud among the soft moans that fill the room. Howie eases Nick away from his neck and Nick pouts a little, but then he’s pulling off Howie’s shoes, and their shirts are next, falling to the floor. Nick slides a hand up Howie’s chest, pausing to roll a finger around each small dark nipple. Howie gasps and pushes up against Nick’s hand. Nick’s tongue follows the trail his hand has already taken, and Howie grabs at Nick’s shoulders, gripping, and he’s making small high noises in his throat. A door slams somewhere in the apartment and Nick sits up, startled. He wipes a hand across his lips and looks down at Howie, wide-eyed and scared. “Is John here?” he asks, quietly. Nick always forgets that Howie’s brother lives with him. Howie’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against Nick’s hand, but he shakes his head, and Nick sighs, relieved. “I left a window open,” Howie says, sitting up. Nick moves to push Howie back down, but Howie grabs his hand instead pulling him into his bedroom and shutting the door. Nick climbs onto Howie’s bed and waits patiently for Howie to join him. The back of the fireplace opens into the bedroom and Nick stares for a moment, transfixed, before he realizes that the fire is silent. Recording, Nick thinks, and smiles up at Howie, now standing beside the bed. “What?” Howie asks, letting Nick pull him down. Nick doesn’t answer, just reaches for Howie’s pants, unbuttoning the top button of the jeans before Howie places a soft hand over his. “You’re sure you want –“ “Yes,” Nick says, nudging Howie’s hand away. Nick has done this before, a few times. It was several years ago, but he’s never had any complaints. He thinks he’s probably pretty good at it, and from the look on Howie’s face as Nick tongues the underside of his cock, Howie agrees. His hand slides across Howie’s stomach and Howie grips it with the hand that isn’t tangled in Nick’s hair. Nick abandons Howie’s cock, traveling back up to kiss his cheeks, his jaw, and finally his mouth. “Nick,” Howie says against his lips, and Nick backs off, letting Howie speak. “I have, you know, lube, in the table, and stuff like that.” Nick releases Howie, who scrambles across the bed, throwing open the table drawer a bit too enthusiastically, and emerging triumphant with a condom and a tube of lube. Nick grins and leans back on his elbows. “Can I?” Howie asks, gesturing toward Nick’s pants, and Nick laughs because he can’t believe that Howie just asked him that. His pants are thrown aside in no time, a pillow is propped under his hips, and Howie’s slick finger is poking around inside him. “Have you. Um.” Nick is having a hard time concentrating on Howie’s words, and he sort of wishes that Howie would just stop talking. “Uh, ever,” Howie thrusts his fingers, two now, inside Nick, and suddenly Nick understands what he’s trying to say. Nick shakes his head and moans a “no,” because Howie’s fingers are stretching now, and hitting his prostate. Howie stops momentarily hearing Nick’s response, but Nick pushes down on his fingers and Howie starts moving again, more slowly. “Do you want me to – We can switch.” Nick whimpers, and manages to say, “no, no” before letting out a full throaty groan and arching off the bed. Howie looks a bit shocked, and he twists the fingers again, watching as Nick performs a similar response. Nick doesn’t think that anything has ever felt this good, and he can’t believe that he didn’t try this during his little period of experimentation. Thank god he didn’t try this then. Howie stops and removes his hand and Nick lets out a frustrated moan. Howie laughs a little, patting Nick’s stomach, causing Nick to grimace in pain. “What’s wrong?” Howie asks, dropping the condom back on the bed and climbing up next to Nick. “It’s nothing. Kevin just –“ Nick shrugs. He doesn’t want to say anything really. He just wants to forget it right now. “He hit you?” Howie’s angry, his eyes flashing, and Nick shakes his head vigorously, placing a calming hand on Howie’s shoulder. “Believe me, I deserved a hell of a lot more than what he did. Don’t get mad. Just remind me to thank him tomorrow,” Howie is still frowning so Nick shoves him a little, pointing toward the bottom of the bed, “Hey. Condom. Now. Let’s go.” That does the trick. Howie can’t help but laugh a little, smacking Nick’s arm, and moves back down the bed. Nick stares at the ceiling, preparing for pain. He’s heard that this hurts, a lot. He heard it from AJ actually, and knows better than to doubt AJ on such matters. He’s focusing on the ceiling and the impending pain so much that he actually frowns a bit when he feels Howie’s finger slip back inside him, rubbing and sending little flickers of pleasure shooting up Nick’s spine. “What-“ Nick starts, clearing his throat, because he sounds low, throaty, and he opens his mouth to speak again but Howie quiets him. Sort of. Quiets him in the sense that Nick isn’t quiet at all, just can no longer form a coherent sentence to save his life. Nick feels Howie’s other hand flutter over the skin of his abdomen, lightly skirting the bruise, not pressing, but when Nick archs up off the bed, trying to get Howie’s fingers deeper, deeper, now, Howie’s hand does press a little, and Nick is so close. So close. He releases his grip on the sheets and reaches for his cock, but Howie is quick and moves to brush Nick’s hand away, adding another finger. Nick grunts, spreads his legs wider, and tries again to move his hand down his body. If he can just – He’s so hard, leaking onto his stomach, and so close. Just a little --. “Hey,” Howie says, thrusting his fingers in hard and again moving to knock Nick’s hand away. He inadvertently brushes Nick’s cock in the process, just a light swipe with the back of his hand, and that’s all it takes for Nick to cry out, his muscles clenching around Howie’s fingers, and Howie’s almost as stunned as he is. Nick is pretty sure he screams when he comes, and even more sure that he blacks out for a few seconds. He can’t have missed too much though, because when he opens his eyes, Howie’s watching him, mouth open and eyes hungry, and he can still feel Howie’s fingers moving a little, causing Nick to tremble and twitch on the bed. When he reaches up and touches Howie’s arm, Howie starts a bit, withdrawing from Nick’s body. Howie crawls up the bed, gently kissing Nick’s stomach on the way, and Nick can’t help but grin. He’s still grinning when Howie’s lips cover his, when Howie’s tongue swipes at his teeth, and when his hand snakes down to wrap around Howie’s cock. Howie groans into Nick’s mouth, thrusting against his side and Nick flicks a thumb over the head of Howie’s cock. Nick has never seen Howie like this, has never seen Howie’s eyes flutter shut in ecstasy, and he’s enthralled. He watches as Howie finds a rhythm against Nick’s thigh, as Nick moves lower, to cup Howie, squeezing gently, and he finds himself gasping when Howie gasps. Moaning a little when Howie moans. Howie presses his mouth to Nick’s shoulder, eyes shut, and Nick leans down, licking around Howie’s ear and then he softly whispers, “I love you.” Liking the way it feels against his lips, the way it brushes Howie’s skin, he says it again, a little louder this time. Nick sees Howie falter, feels it, and when Howie comes, whimpering against him, and Nick can feel the shudders and trembling echo through his own body, he knows that it was the perfect time to say what he’s been thinking all night. AJ groans when he walks into the studio and sees Nick and Howie curled up on the couch. It’s obvious to Nick that AJ was hoping to come in and crash for a few hours, right where Howie sits with Nick’s head in his lap. Kevin and Bill/Alan/Fred are mixing a track they recorded a few days earlier, and Kevin nods at AJ in acknowledgment before turning back to the board. “So, what are we doing today?” AJ asks lying down on the floor. He frowns, because it’s clearly a poor substitute to the couch. Nick tosses him a pillow. “Re-recording all the parts you fucked up last week,” Kevin deadpans. AJ snorts, punching a fist in the air. Nick reaches up to scratch the back of his head and gets his fingers tangled a little. Frowning, he looks at Howie, who’s sipping a large cup of coffee. He pokes the arm that isn’t holding the hot mug, and Howie glances down, smiling. “Would you mind if I got a mohawk?” Nick asks. Howie practically spits his coffee all over Nick and AJ’s curled up in laughter on the floor. Nick and Kevin just frown at them. Bill/Alan/Fred plays with some dials and pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on. “Guess that’s a no,” Nick grumbles as Brian enters the studio, slinging his bag at AJ and grinning at them all. “Look who’s back,” AJ grunts, tossing Brian’s bag toward a chair in the corner. “I’m a new man,” Brian announces, and AJ quickly gets up off the floor, before Brian gets any ideas that might end in injury. Nick cheers and Howie claps his hands and Brian kisses them each on the cheek. He lifts up Nick’s feet, climbing onto the couch, before putting them down to rest across his lap. “So, you guys official now? Like official official, not just fucking with each other’s heads official?” Ouch, Nick thinks, but Howie is nodding and then he’s bending over and kissing Nick. AJ coughs in the background and makes a series of noises just short of gagging. “Fuck,” AJ says, “Now I’ve got to deal with you,” he points at Nick, “being a stubborn bitch. You,” the finger moves up toward Howie, “mothering me, Fred refusing to teach me anything,” he glares toward the sound board, “Kevin.” AJ makes a gesture toward his head that Nick assumes is supposed to be an impersonation of Kevin’s hair, “and now the two of you playing kissy-face every chance you get. It’s like hell. This studio is hell.” Brian clears his throat. “Right, sorry. See, at least someone has thought about what I need. Thank you Brian for saving us all from your diva trip by de-Burger Kingifying yourself and finally getting laid.” Brian furrows his brow, and AJ turns on his heel and heads into the soundbooth. Kevin is laughing. Brian rolls his eyes and turns back to Nick and Howie. “Right, so now that that meatball is gone,” Nick snickers, “we can get back to what I was saying before.” AJ flips them off from inside the sound booth, and Brian just waves in return. “How do you know that this one,” Brian pokes Nick’s knee, “isn’t still playing his delusional mind-fuck game?” Nick squints at Brian. He hadn’t expected that. He’d thought that Brian would ask about how far they’d gone, or what else he’d missed over the weekend, but not that he’d accuse Nick of continuing to hurt Howie. He looks up at Howie, and he’s frowning, thinking, his nose scrunched up a little. “Are you lying to me, Nicky?” Howie asks, finally. “No,” Nick says, and Howie smiles. |