"I guess ... this is where I get out," he says, and he gestures at his house but he doesn't get out of the car yet, just stares at Joey like there's something else he's supposed to do.

And Joey just nods, and keeps looking at him, not smiling.

Nick has his back to the door and reaches behind himself to open it, but he still doesn't get out. "I fucked up, huh?" he says, which is usually enough to get his guys talking to him, even if it's just to yell.

And Joey says "what do you think?"

still just looking.

Nick kinda looks down and puts on his guilty face and wonders when Joey is gonna start getting nice again. "I do that a lot," he mumbles. "What was it this time?"

"You're not stupid, Nick, and you don't feel bad about this, so quit playing like you do." Joey just nods his head at the door. "Don't even think about driving anywhere tonight."

"No, I am kinda stupid," he argues and he looks up at him again to see Joey still glaring at him. "I *am* stupid sometimes. And I won't, anyway. I have beer in the fridge and ... " But then he thinks that Joey probably doesn't want to hear it.

"You do stupid shit like this, yeah, but you're not stupid. And frankly I don't really think you need more beer, but it's your house and your liver."

Nick looks down again and scratches at his arm and still doesn't get out of the car. Joey's making him feel like a kid, which the other guys *don't*, they just piss him off when they get on his case. "So, yeah. This is my place, then ... "

"It sure is." Joey's not giving him an inch. Not even a *fraction* of an inch. "And you might want to call your security tomorrow, get your guy replaced. You shouldn't have ended up in that bathroom like that."

"Kinda ditched him," muttered Nick, beginning to *see* how stupid it was. He undid his seatbelt. "I really wasn't hitting on that guy, you know. I'm not, like, *that* stupid."

Joey just raised an eyebrow at him. "Nick, you flirt with everyone just by talking to them, especially when you're wasted. You might want to think about that the next time you feel the urge to do ten tequila shots at some bar."

"I'm not gay," he muttered one last time as he got out of the car, finally, stumbling on the curb twice before making it up onto the sidewalk. "Hey, you want a beer? I got lots ... "

"No," Joey had gotten out of the car and had a hand under his elbow before he even realized what was happening. "Here, watch that step. If you're not gay you should stop making eyes at the leather queens. Give me your keys, Nick."

"They're in my pocket," said Nick, all but groping himself as he tried to get his hand into it. "I think. And I wasn't ... I wasn't making eyes at him. Shit, what do you think I *am* anyway? I told you i'm not. I'm *not*."

Joey patted him down almost professionally, then looked at him again. "Your keys are not in your pockets, Nick." He sighed, and started looking at the windows by the door, testing them. "Whether or not you were making eyes at him on purpose, he thought you were, I thought you were, and who cares if you are or aren't? It was just a bad idea anyway. That guy was a freak."

"Yeah, a freak," said Nick, latching onto the word. "A *freak*. There's a key under the mat, you know. Shhh, it's a secret. No one ever looks there."

Joey looked at him, disbelieving. "Jesus christ, boy, you need a keeper worse than JC." He got the key out from under the mat, and looked at Nick, who stood swaying gently where he was. "Yeah, a freak. He's all about fisting, I've heard, and doesn't care much if you're not. Please try to stay away from the big nasty men. You're hard to keep track of, you know."

"I was just taking a piss," muttered Nick, falling against the railing heavily. "What, I'm not supposed to take a piss? Do I hafta use the ladies' or something now cause of the big bad men that want my ass so bad?" He kinda even knew he was being stupid, but it was so hard to stop.

"Quit being retarded," Joey said absently, opening the door and dragging Nick inside. "You know better than that. By now you should be able to tell when someone's following you." He flicked on the hall light, and propped Nick up against the doorjamb. "There. You're home, you're safe. Drink some water and go to bed, and maybe this time you'll learn something from the hangover."

"When did you get so damn mean, anyway?" said Nick, practicing his pout on Joey. It always worked on Howie. And he *hadn't* been being followed anyway, he would have known. "I ... oh ... I don't feel so good, Joey ... "

"Ah, shit." Joey grabbed him and hauled him back out the door, leaning him over the railing so he could heave into the bushes. "Sorry kid, didn't know where your bathroom was." He held Nick's hair back a little from his face, hands surprisingly gentle. "Get it all out, you'll feel better in a minute."

Nick retched twice more before he let Joey stand him up again, wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand. "Okay, that sucked," he mumbled, unable to meet Joey's eyes. "I ... um ... think I'm done now ... " He hadn't thrown up in a long time, hadn't thrown up in *front* of anyone in even longer.

"Ew, no, here." Joey grabbed some napkins out of his jacket pocket, and wiped Nick's hands with them, turning them over in his fingers and making sure to get each one, then pressed them into his palm. "Use these. You sure you're done? Come inside, we really gotta get you some water now." Joey's voice was calm, almost placid, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

"I'm sure," said Nick, *feeling* like a child, then, feeling like Joey really did need to be treating him this way. "I can find the bathroom, if I'm not," he added, right before stumbling over the single step up into his front door.

"uh-huh." Joey was noncommittal, and grabbed his arm again. "Which way? Couch, water, bathroom. You need to sit down before you fall." He tugged at Nick's elbow. "Come ON, Nick. At least give me some directions here."

"Um," said Nick, wrinkling his nose as he thought about it. Thought too hard about it. "Bathroom left, couch right. I think. No ... yeah ... that's right. And beer is straight ahead ... "

"Jesus," Joey muttered again, finding the living room and pushing Nick down on the couch. "I don't spend a lot of time in my house either, but this is ridiculous." He stood, looking down at Nick. "You don't get more beer. You're an idiot sometimes, but I still don't want to read about you dying of alcohol poisoning in tomorrow's newspapers. Where's the water?"

"In the tap," said Nick promptly, looking up at him. "I'm not going to die. Talk about, um, over ... reacting. I'm fine." Then he slid to the side and hit his head on the thankfully soft arm of the couch.

"And the tap is where?" Joey hauled Nick upright again by his shoulder. "Seriously, Nick, you gotta get some water in you, or it's gonna be ugly. Come on." He tapped lightly on the side of Nick's head, gaining his full attention. "Point me at the kitchen."

Nick pointed randomly over the back of the couch, his arm bouncing off it twice before settling down. "End of the hall, but before you're in the back yard," he said. "That's how I always find it."

Joey laughed, actually laughed, and tapped him on the side of the head again, this time almost affectionately. "As long as it's on this floor, I guess I can find it. Sit tight, try not to fall down or anything. You got bread or anything in the fridge?" He moved down the hall, raising his voice as he went. "You're going to need something solid in your stomach, too."

"There's beer in the fridge," NIck said again, not remembering anything else that might be in there. He didn't think he'd been shopping in a while, though. "And water in the tap," he added. "There's always water in the tap. I never run out."

"What?" Joey shouted from the kitchen, and Nick heard the refrigerator open and shut, the tap running, "Couldn't hear you, man." A cabinet slammed, and then the light was turned on, and Joey was back. He had two slices of bread in one hand, a full glass and some pills in the other. "Take these and drink this and eat these."

"Really, I'm not hungry," said Nick, pushing the bread away but taking the water. The taste in his mouth was awful. "You eat the bread. It's good. I think someone made it for me. I think."

"No, Nick, this is Wonder bread. From a bag." Joey held out the bread again. "It'll make your stomach feel better, I swear. You'll be glad you did." He sighed as Nick shook his head. "I thought I was done with this," almost under his breath. "Nick, eat the fucking bread."

"When the fuck did I buy Wonder bread?" muttered Nick as he took it, squishing it between his fingers. A few droplets of water spilled out onto his chin and he tried to wipe them away with his wrist. "I'm doing okay," he said. "You don't have to ... do anything you don't want to, I guess. I know you're mad at me."

"Not mad," Joey corrected him. "Bored and annoyed, because this drunk thing? It's gotten old. Eat the bread, and then we'll talk. I still don't like how green you are." He sat down gingerly next to Nick on the couch, then leaned back and relaxed, staring at the paintings on Nick's walls.

Nick took a tentative bite of his bread, still sure that Joey was mad at him. And probably with good reason. "Don't you get drunk, ever?" he challenged him, swallowing harshly and wondering when the bread was going to start feeling good.

"Sure, all the time." Joey slumped more comfortably. "I don't do shit as dumb as you when I am, though. At least I don't anymore. There's a fine line, baby, and you ain't walkin' it. You've gone from happy having fun drinking to stupid getting arrested drinking, and that's not good for anyone."

"Sh'up," muttered Nick, clumsily trying to avoid talking about the whole 'getting arrested' thing. "I'm happy. I had fun. Except for the *freak* in the bathroom. There ain't nothing wrong with what I do."

Joey looked at him evenly, then away. Hummed a little, looked around the room, then startled when his cell phone rang. "Hello?" He listened for a minute. "I'm at Carter's. Yeah. Yeah. Why yes, JC, is *is* making a habit of it." He stared at Nick. "I dunno. Yeah, puking." He sighed. "At least he's quieter than Justin. No. Yeah. I'll call you later, ok? Cool. Later." He hung up the phone.

"Dizzy," mumbled Nick, lifting a hand to his forehead. "And you didn't have to say, about the puking thing. He didn' need to know that. I don', mostly ever. And ... fuck. Dizzy."

"C'mere." Joey eased an arm around his back, pulling his head down to Joey's shoulder, taking most of his weight as Nick went limp against him. "Better? Keep eating your bread, Nick. And finish your water. It'll make the dizziness stop." Joey's warm, broad hand rested on his forehead for an instant, then fell away.

Nick took another slow bite of the bread and chewed for a long time, until it was nothing but mush inside his mouth. "I got in trouble again, huh," he said, quietly, more subdued again. "That thing, with the guy. I didn' mean to."

"I know." Joey's hand was back on his head, this time touching his hair. "You gotta be careful, though, ok? You're pretty, and you flirt and don't know it. Just. Try to stay around people you know when you're all lit, huh? Use the buddy system or something."

"Wasn't anyone there that cared, 'cept maybe you," he confessed softly, feeling childish again. "And I'm not gonna ask you to hold my hand while I piss in case some guy I'm not interested in or nothing decides he wants me. And I'm not *pretty*."

"Nick, you're being deliberately dense again." Joey rubbed his head gently. "You know I'm just telling you to be a little smarter about shit. You're a big guy, I'm not saying you gotta be holding hands with anybody, but how good would it look if you got hauled in again for fighting? And pretty's not a bad thing, you idiot. Just might get you some of the wrong kind of attention."

"No, I'm *not*," insisted Nick. "I'm not pretty. I'm just not ... okay? So take it back and don't be mean like that. 'S'not funny, you know. You guys all think you're funny when you say it but you're *not*. You're not."

"Shhhh, shh." Joey sounded a little surprised, and pulled him a bit closer. "Drink your water, shh. Fine, you're ugly, you're hideous, I can't believe they don't make you wear a bag over your head at photoshoots, whatever you say. I wasn't trying to be funny."

Nick quieted down with a sigh and drank his water. "I kinda am, you know," he blurted, in the middle of a comfortable silence.

"Pretty? I know." There was a smile in Joey's voice, even though Nick couldn't see his face. "Nothin' wrong with that. Shit, look at JC, he's the prettiest thing on the planet, and he's happy enough with it these days. Hey, you finished the bread. Feeling better now?"

"No, not pretty," argued Nick, rolling his eyes at Joey then stopping when it made him dizzy again. "Gay. I'm kinda gay. Don't tell anyone, okay? It's a secret. Like the key."

"OK," Joey said agreeably. "Our secret. Like the key. Which you should really move, because *everyone* puts their spare key there, so it isn't really a secret, you know." He stretched out and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. "I've been known to be kinda gay myself, but since it isn't really a secret, you can tell anyone you like. Besides MTV. Well, you can try, but they don't really want to hear it."

Nick narrowed his eyes at Joey and stared at him for a long moment. "Are you teasing me again?" he asked finally, brushing breadcrumbs off his hands and onto his pants. "I'm kinda stupid sometimes and I can't tell."

"Nope." He stared back at Nick blandly. "I'm surprised you didn't know already, the way things get around in this industry. Since, you know. Not really a secret."

"But ... " said Nick helplessly, still staring. "But ... but ... but no one *told* me!"

"Huh." Joey contemplated, then shrugged. "Probably just didn't think you'd care, much. Why would you, really?" He peered at Nick. "You're looking a lot better now. You want more water? Wanna go to bed?"

"I want a beer," said Nick darkly, struggling to stand up on his own. His legs should have been working better than they were. Really, he hadn't had *that* much to drink. He'd had more, lots of times. "And then I want ... I don't know what i want, then. But I'll figure it out."

"No beer." Joey's voice was firm, and he held Nick down without much apparent effort. "Your options are sitting here and drinking more water, or going to bed to sleep it off. I've never seen a kid more excited about killing his liver than you. Not recently, anyway. Will you just relax?"

"I'm not really gay. I just said that," he muttered, sitting back down but turning his head away from Joey. And being just about as bratty as he knew how, which he'd had years of practice at. "Water's okay. I guess."

"Nick, you're very gay, and I've known it for ages. But what the hell does that have to do with your liver?" Joey heaved himself to his feet and grabbed the water glass. "Stay put. Don't get ambitious or you'll end up puking out all that water and bread and you need it." He looked at Nick sternly. "Sit. Stay." Nick was left staring at his back as he headed back to the kitchen.

Nick curled his feet up underneath him and waited. The dizziness was passing, and with that stabilization was coming a renewed clearness of his head. And with *that*, the first inkling of just what the hell he'd done. "Fuck," he muttered, then started chewing on his nails. He was still doing it when Joey came back.

Joey raised an eyebrow, and handed over the full water glass. "I don't know if fingernails are on the list of things to eat when you're drunk, you know," he commented mildly as he settled back onto the couch. "And if you keep scowling like that, your face will freeze, and then what will you do?"

"Get a job in a freak show?" offered Nick, letting his hand fall and taking the glass carefully. "There'll always be someone that wants to look at me, Joey. " He sipped at the water for a moment, and neither of them spoke. "Sorry. About tonight."

"Eh." Joey shrugged it off. "It's not so bad, really. Been doing it for years, now, and now that my boys are all grown up, it's just hard to break the habit. Not like I had big plans for the evening anyway, so don't beat yourself up about it." He grinned at Nick, then, finally, and intoned in a deep voice. "As long as there are pretty popstars bent on self destruction, the job of SuperJoey shall never be complete!"

"Quit with the pretty," argued Nick, but mildly now. It seemed to matter a whole lot less once he thought about it. "And Timberlake's younger than me, fucker, so don't give me *that*."

"Justin was never young, really." Joey's voice was quiet. "Probably a lot like you. But he did his acting out when he was eighteen, and now he's pretty much straight. Shit, even Chris is acting like a responsible adult these days, and I never thought I'd see the day that happened."

Nick just snorted; he remembered hearing about what Justin had gotten himself into. "I'm okay now," he said again, needing to give Joey an out, needing to let him leave if that was what he really wanted to do. "They were lucky they had you around to look out for them."

"They did their share of looking out for me, too," Joey said comfortably. "I'm not some kind of saint, here, I got into my share of hellraising. Drink your water, I'm not leaving till you're safely asleep, on your side, far away from your beer."

NIck sipped at the water again, knowing better than to go too fast, not when his stomach wasn't quite good yet. "Really, though, I'm sorry that I was all stupid about things. You're the only person who's been nice to me in forever."

"You were kind of an idiot," Joey agreed. "You managed to piss off the one guy in the place who could probably even kick *my* ass." He turned a little so he was almost facing Nick. "How are you feeling, now?" Strong fingers touched Nick's chin, turned his face. "You look better. Might want to take a vacation, though, those dark circles aren't really a great look for you."

"That guy," said Nick with a snort. "Seriously. I was avoiding him, even. I really don't know what happened there. Even when I'm wasted, I have taste, you know?" And he thought he even managed a smile that time. "I'm okay. A little ... " He touched his stomach gingerly. "I feel really stupid about *that*. I haven't been sick since ... I don't even remember. Since I was a kid."

"It'll happen." Joey smiled back. "Don't feel too bad, it probably saved you a lot of agony tomorrow. Better out than in, y'know." He tucked one foot under his other leg, and shivered a little. "Glad to hear you have taste, that guy was a bruiser."

"He just gave me the creeps. Like you know when you've just done shrooms and it's like everyone has this aura, and you sorta gravitate towards the happy ones and feel repelled by the bad ones? It was like that. He repelled me."

"Yeah, I know. I think your aura-reading was pretty spot-on, there. Not a fun guy." Joey tipped his head back against the couch, curling into himself a little more. "Man, don't you turn the heat on in here? I know we're in Florida, but it still gets cold at night, you know."

"I'm always warm," confessed Nick, sipping at the water again. It was starting to get easier, drinking it. He reached behind his head and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch. "Here. Jay always got really cold, too. Okay. Fuck. I'm never drinking again. I mean it."

"Jay?" Joey took the blanket gratefully, and draped it over himself. "Thanks, man. I think it's actually pretty cold in here, because I'm usually not cold at all. You're just still numb. And don't go all puritan on us. No need for dramatic gestures, especially since they don't work very well. Just don't drink as much, when you're by yourself, and you should be all set."

"No, really," said Nick, pressing at his temple as a headache began to set in. He sipped the water again. "Never." He was sipping the water again when he realized what Joey had asked. "Jay?" he repeated, stalling. "Was just this guy, that used to come over."

"Boyfriend? That's cool." Joey grinned at him. "Never until next weekend, I'm sure. But I'm going out of town on Friday, so don't get *too* crazy, you hear?"

"I didn't say he was ... " began Nick immediately, then looked at Joey's grinning face and stopped. "Okay. Yeah, Boyfriend. So ... um ... where are you going on Friday? I thought you guys were all on break ... "

"We are. I'm heading to New York, my cousin's getting married on Saturday, and I promised I'd be there. I always hated Tony, actually, when we were kids, but my mom'll kick my ass if I don't show." Joey sulked a little. "If he thinks he's getting anything nicer than a crock pot, though, he's delusional. Fucker used to rip up my Superman comics."

Nick just stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Shit," he said, finally feeling comfortable enough to set the water aside. "That's just so fucking ... *normal*."

"Well, yeah." Joey stared right back. "If you can call the Fatone family normal in any way, which I dunno if you can. Hey, you should come with. My mama could make you her chicken piccatta, and my little girl cousins wiould die. *DIE*. I'd be like a fucking hero to them forever. Of course, you might have to sleep on the couch, since I think there are like a thousand relatives flying in, but it would still be fun."

Nick just continued to stare at him. "You're kidding me, right?" he said after a moment, wishing he was just a little more sober. He looked down at himself, then up at Joey, who *seemed* sincere enough. "Go *with* you. To New York. To meet your family. That's ... that's a lot of trouble for you to go to, to make sure I'm being safe, Joey."

"Oh, no, that's not really it," Joey assured him. "I bring people home all the time, they're used to it. Plus, I'm hoping your brain will re-engage after tonight, and I won't have to worry about it if you don't come. I just thought you might have fun." He brought his other foot up, so he was sitting crosslegged under the blanket. "You don't have to or anything. I'm sure your bodyguards will be a little more attentive anyway, 'specially after I tell them about your admirer in the club."

"Oh god, don't do that," said Nick quickly, cringeing. "Seriously. It was my fault, I was being stupid." He shook his head and looked down for a moment, trying to remember if there'd been anything he'd done, to get his attention. "So can I ask you a stupid question, then?"

Joey looked at him doubtfully. "I dunno, man. You shouldn't have been in there alone. There are plenty of people willing to make life difficult for a Backstreet Boy out there, and if you're slipping your guards that easily, it's a bad thing. But ask away. I can't guarantee I'll know the answer, though."

"Why the hell do you want me to go with you to New York?"

Joey smiled a little at the bald question. "I dunno. Why not? I like you, you're cool, you'd probably have fun once I dug you out from under my cousins. We could catch a ball game, go to my favorite restaurant, hang out a bit. I'll have someone to roll my eyes at during the reception."

Nick felt a smile pulling at his lips. "You're serious," he said, finally realizing that Joey *was*. "Yeah, sure, why the hell not. I like New York."

"Hey, cool." Joey beamed at him. "You can be my buffer against my Aunt Maria. She wants to know why I'm not married, but she won't harrass me if I've got a guest. That's excellent. Of course, I'll have to tell Aunt Claudia that you're off limits for her daughters, but that should be easy enough. Dude, you're gonna get fed to within an inch of your life."

Nick rolled his eyes, thankfully not getting dizzy that time, and laughed. "Yeah, 'cause I really look like I need to be fed," he joked. "Hey, wait, don't you have a girlfriend you bring to these things?" Nick stopped and bit his lip and felt like there was really something he ought to be remembering.

"It don't matter what you look like," Joey assured him. "They think *I'm* wasting away. And were you in a coma before when I mentioned the gay thing? Well, ok, not entirely gay, but enough so that no, there's no girlfriend. Which is cool, because my mom never liked Kelly anyway. Fair warning, though, you show up with me you're gonna get some fun questions. I'll let them know you're just a friend, but still. Be forewarned."

Nick's eyes widened as that part of the conversation came back to him. "Oh," he said quietly. "They know? Like ... you whole family knows? That's ... wow. Kinda weird."

"Not really." Joey looked at him consideringly. "They are family, after all. I could decide that I wanted to fuck a sheep in Times Square and...well, ok, they probably wouldn't support that. But up to that, they're cool. Mom wept over lost grandchildren, hence, Brianna. But other than that? Nah."

"Okay, I know this isn't the point," said Nick, still encouraging his brain to process that, "but Brianna was *planned*? Seriously?" Maybe more water would help with the processing thing.

"Well, yeah." Joey shrugged and smiled. "I'm not dumb enough to knock somebody up by accident, Nick, despite what you might have heard. She was kind of last year's Christmas present to my parents. And myself, of course." He saw Nick staring into his glass. "Need more water?"

"I ... uh ... " Nick's mind went blank for a moment, then he looked up. "No, I'm good," he said finally, swishing the last of the water around in the bottom of the glass. "Your life is just pretty different from mine, is all. I guess."

"We are different people, so that follows. You'll understand better when you've met my folks. They're nuts. But in the good way." Joey smiled at him, more gently than he had yet. "So, tell me about this Jay guy. Is it serious? Is he cool? Does he have a cute brother?"

Nick snorted into his glass of water and nodded a little, but not to say yes to the questions. "Jay," he repeated quietly. "You know I wouldn't have mentioned him if I wasn't drunk, right? Cause ... never really talked about him before." He grinned. "No brothers. Awfully cute, though."

"Yeah? Lucky." Joey grinned, then sobered. "So, where is this guy? I've never seen him out with y'all." He looked around like Jay might be hiding in another room of the house. "And won't he mind that you're flying off to New York to spend the weekend with some other guy? I'd be pissed about that, if I were dating you."

"Oh," said Nick softly. "No, Joey, no ... we're ... I mean, it's over. With me and Jay? Been over for a while. Just didn't work out." He drained the last of the water and set the cup aside again. "You thought I was still with him?"

"Kinda, yeah..." Joey trailed off, and was obviously trying to remember what had been said. "Though I guess you never....huh. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to stir anything up. Are you single, though? Don't gotta check in with anyone before we jet off to the Big Apple?"

"No, no, you didn't," Nick reassured him quickly. "It was ... um ... what's the word? Amicable. We talk. It's good. So ... " He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "No, no one to check in with. Very single. You? No *boy*friend to bring with you, then?"

"Nope." Joey sounded fairly resigned to that, Nick thought. "Single. Completely. Have been for a while, actually, so no worries there. Not many people looking for a fat lazy bum with a kid and a whole lot of media scrutiny." He shrugged. "Someday my prince will come."

"You're not serious, are you?" said Nick, eyes widening again. His head was feeling a whole lot better, enough that he thought he could probably find his own way back to the kitchen now, if he needed to. "Is that how you see yourself, Joey?"

"Dude, I'm not freaking out about it or anything." Joey grinned at him. "Like I said, someone'll come along who's right for me. 'Til then I get laid when I can and jerk off when I can't and don't worry about it too much. I mean, I'm not you or Justin or JC, but not a dog or anything, either."

"No, you're not Justin or JC," agreed Nick, nodding again and licking his lips. His mouth felt dry. "Justin or JC wouldn't have been nearly as good to me. Even though you think JC is prettier than me. I mean, that's okay, cause he is."

"Only if you like skinny little space cadets with no taste in clothes." Joey chuckled low. "Sometimes I wonder where that boy's mind is at. Hey, how you feeling, baby? Need more water?" He patted Nick's shoulder. "More Advil? Want me to get the hell out so you can sleep?"

"Maybe more water, yeah," admitted Nick, forcing himself to sit up. The word "baby" didn't hit him until after he was looking away, thankfully, because he wasn't sure he would have wanted Joey to see the flush that came to his cheeks. "I can get it, though. I'm ... okay, I think."

"You sure?" Joey's was frowning at him. "Dude, your hands are shaking. Don't puke on your floor, ok? Because much as I like you and all, there are some things I just don't do, and 3 am floor cleaning's one of 'em. I can get you another glass of water, I don't mind."

"Well ... maybe come with me?" said Nick, realizing he *was* shaky, and it wasn't all from what Joey had said. "God, I can't believe I puked in front of you. I can't believe you *stayed*, after I did. That's so fucking ... humiliating."

"It's not that bad. Everyone's done it, not much to be embarrassed about, you know? At least you didn't puke *on* me, then I might have been a little pissed. Joey stood again, strangely graceful, and held out a hand to Nick. "If you really feel up to standing, come on. I figure you're hitting hangover now, so any moving you want to do should be soon."

"Then I'm definitely going to need the water," said Nick, noting his shakiness again as he let Joey help him up. "Lots of it. Wow, tomorrow's not gonna be fun, huh."

Joey snickered as he slid an arm around Nick's waist. "No, I think I can safely predict a day of hell for you, tomorrow." He started walking, and Nick automatically moved too. "We'll get you a big glass and maybe another glass for later and then go to bed, ok?"

Nick nodded slowly as Joey led the way to the kitchen, leaning just a little into Joey's embrace until they arrived. "Oh shit, I didn't mean to leave this out," he muttered as he saw the pile of books and papers scattered all over his kitchen table. He closed a couple of them and shoved them aside to make space before heading for the sink for more water. "Sorry. We should be able to sit, now."

Joey watched him closely as he moved, but since he didn't seem to be in immediate danger of falling on his head, glanced away. He flipped idly through the book on top of the pile. "What's all this stuff, man?" He settled into one of the kitchen chairs, propping his feet on the rungs of the other. Nick gulped water.

"It's ... it's boring," said Nick quietly, a bit embarassed, refilling the glass to bring with him. "It's ... um. It's just this class that I was taking. But ... " He said down carefully and shoved the books further away from him. "I'm not really doing so great anyway, I don't think."

"Oh, that's so cool. Lance is taking classes, online, you know? And I was thinking about signing up for one of those screenplay writing things they have, like a workshop." Joey reached for the books again. "What class are you taking? I bet you're doing great. Well, unless you're not doing your homework because you're out trying to pick up leatherboys in bars." He looked at Nick inquiringly.

"No, I *am*," said Nick in frustration, toying with his water glass and not meeting Joey's eyes. "I'm really trying, you know? But maybe I'm just not good at it. It's just ... " He grabbed one of the books. "It's this art history class, right? And I thought it would be really great, but it's so *hard*. Like ... way harder than high school was."

"Well, you went to bus school," Joey pointed out reasonably, "and if it was anything like Justin and Lance's, it was about as far as you can get from Harvard Prep." Joey flipped through the book he was holding. "Is the stuff you're learning interesting, though? Is the class cool? Because school's supposed to be hard, you know. Means you're learning stuff."

"Well yeah, it's *interesting*," admitted Nick, trying to peer over the edge of the book to see what he was looking at, worried that Joey was gonna find some stupid notes he'd written in the margins or something. "But, like, the best grade I've gotten so far on anything is a B. And I'm *trying*. I really am. Makes me feel kinda stupid."

"A B is great, man. Especially since you're doing this on your own." Joey peered down at the page, squinting. "Shit, I need my glasses. This looks really cool, though. Rom-Roman-Romanesque sculpture. Man, you should talk to JC, he never shuts up about this stuff. I know nothing, but I can recognize what I like." He smiled up into Nick's eyes. "I think it's great, you're doing this."

Nick tilted his head to the side and smiled at him. "I've never seen you in glasses," he said, irrelevantly, he knew. "And I said the B was the *best* I've gotten. Which means I've gotten worse, too. So ... I dunno. There were these other classes that I was gonna take maybe but maybe ... I don't know anymore. I thought it was really cool, but then I thought I would do better, too. I got A's in high school, you know."

"You got A's in bus high school, which is different," Joey corrected firmly. "Probably had a tutor there all the time helping you out. Not that I'm saying you didn't deserve 'em, but this is a whole new level of hard. And if you're getting B's in with your other grades, you've definitely got the potential to kick ass. Lance said that learning how to study on his own was the hardest part, and once he figured that out he was golden. Maybe it's something like that with you." Joey shut the book and set it back on the table, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck before stretching out comfortably, his feet almost touching Nick's. "You should take any classes you want to. Don't let the grades keep you from learning shit you wanna know."

"I'm probably just not as smart as Lance," said Nick, but he felt another smile coming on. "Thanks, though, Joey. For ... believing in me, I guess? The guys kinda laughed when I told them. I don't even know if they know I'm still doing it. I know most people think I'm not too bright and they're probably right about that. I'm going to finish, at least, though. This class. And that'll be something, right?"

"That'll be huge," Joey agreed. "And Lance is an idiot, don't let the rep fool you. OK, maybe not an idiot, but no genius either. I think you're pretty bright, when you're not being dumb." He grinned. "Guess you could say that for a lot of people, huh?"

"I think that's pretty safe to say about most people," agreed Nick, still smiling faintly. "So the books ... I was studying here earlier, before I went out. Which is actually pretty funny, probably, if you think about it."

"Nice division of time," Joey agreed, "at least until you pickled all your newfound knowledge out of your head. How *is* your head, by the way?"

"Throbbing a little," confessed Nick, wincing and sipping the water again. "Not as bad as it could be, I think. And the spinning stopped, which is nice. God. I've been *such* a moron lately, Joey. I'm surprised anyone's still talking to me."

Joey shrugged. "So you did some stupid stuff. Everyone does, it doesn't mean you're not a decent guy. If your stupid stuff tends to be big and dramatic, well, we have big dramatic lives, so it makes sense. As long as you don't make a habit of it, you'll be fine."

"Well, I kinda have been," Nick had to admit with a snort, looking down at his hands and fidgeting. "And that's a problem, huh? It's a good thing you'll be by my side in New York, cause you can just imagine the kind of trouble I could get into *there*."

"Oh, I don't have to imagine." Joey snickered, fiddling with a stray paper on the table near him. "I've been there. And yeah, you've been...I dunno. A little out of control lately, which isn't cool. Doesn't really seem like *you*, either, now I know you a little better. That's why I started keeping an eye on you, anyway. You were doing good, and then you weren't, and it seemed strange."

"AJ's therapist says I'm acting out," said Nick, unable to keep a trace of bitterness from seeping into that. "And of course he felt the need to share that discovery with me. He's big into using psychobabble on all of us, right now."

"I can only imagine, since it's probably the only thing he's hearing, lately." Joey looked up and met his eyes directly. "Are you?"

Nick shrugged. "It's as good an explanation as any," he said, fidgeting again but at least keeping his eyes up. "Mostly I just feel frustrated about stuff so I go out and ... drink, mostly, which is what seems to get me into trouble. Listen, I'll ... I'll be right back, all right? Honest. I just ... my contacts feel like they're *gluing* themselves to my eyes and I know better than to wear them when I'm gonna go on a binge and ... yeah." But he stumbled again when he got to his feet and had to steady himself against the table.

Joey's hands were suddenly at his waist, strong and sure and holding him still and straight, though Joey hadn't moved from his chair. "Easy there, baby. I understand about the contacts, but no sudden movements, or you're gonna take a header, and blood's even worse to clean up than puke." He stood, still holding Nick, and started moving to the door. "Which way to your contact stuff? Upstairs?"

"Yeah, upstairs," he said, unsure of whether he wanted Joey with him just then or not. Because things were getting a llittle strange and he wasn't sure if he was coping really well. Thought maybe he wasn't. "In my bathroom. But I can make it if you ... didn't want to come. Or whatever."

"Did I mention the blood? I'm pretty sure I mentioned the blood. Stairs, Nick." Joey guided him down the hall, still walking behind him, a hand on the small of his back. "I've seen you puking in the bushes, the contents of your medicine cabinet shouldn't worry you too much. And-hey!" He grabbed as Nick lurched sideways and his hip slammed into the end of the stair railing, sharp sudden pain that made him stagger and gasp. "Fuck, that did not sound good. Nick, Nick, you ok?"

Nick nodded, clenching his teeth and hissing and trying not to topple. "Yeah," he got out finally. "Thanks for the catch. GodDAMmit that hurts, though." He lifted his head, the pain at least giving him something new to focus on. "My room's ... it's just at the end. On the right."

"C'mon, you gotta get up the stairs. Shit. You're still this unsteady, maybe you haven't hit the hangover yet after all." Joey looped his arm around Nick's back, taking most of his weight, and Nick leaned into him before trying to straighten up. "No, hey, come on. Let me help."

"It's not just that," protested Nick, managing to stand up again. "I'm just ... edgy, okay? And *fuck* that hurt. I can ... I can walk. Don't worry, I can. I'm not still wasted, I'd know if I was. I'd admit it. Like you said ... not much you haven't seen of me."

Joey frowned, but dropped his hands. "Didn't mean to make you edgy or anything. If you can make it, be my guest, but I'm still gonna stand here and make sure you don't break your neck." He leaned against the wall a little, away from Nick, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "You're gonna have a nice bruise there tomorrow."

"Yeah," breathed Nick, and actually made it to the top safely, only stumbling over the last step. And true to his word, Joey's hands were back on his waist the moment he looked like he might fall. "End of the hall," he repeated after standing still for a moment. "I feel like a tool."

"You're drunk as fuck," Joey said bluntly, close to his ear, "and considering that, you're doing pretty well. I'm surprised you didn't pass out an hour ago, actually. Says something a little scary about your tolerance, but hey." He flipped the light on as they moved slowly down the hall. "I'm just glad you're walking. You'd be a little harder to carry than Justin."

Nick snorted again, shame creeping up on him now. Well, not creeping, more like slamming into him, really. "Yeah, I bet," he said as he made his way towards the bedroom. "He's a skinny fucker." Joey was right, his tolerance *was* high. Very high. And yet he'd still managed to drink enough to start puking.

"Yeah, but he's getting big." Joey was still on his heels. "I'm glad he isn't passing out in limos any more, let me tell you. Oh, nice." He finally moved away from Nick, into the center of the bedroom, and looked around. "This is really nice, Nick. And man, that is a great picture of Howie. Who painted that? It looks almost like a photo." He turned in a circle, finally facing back to Nick, who was leaning against the door, biting his lip against the spike of pain in his hipbone and the bigger spike trying to pierce his head.

"That's, um, one of mine," he said quietly, looking quickly around the room himself, cringeing at how messy he'd left it. It was worse than the kitchen table, paints spilled out on the dresser, books on the floor, bed a mess, clothes everywhere. "I just need to ... " He pointed at the bathroom, off to the side. "It'll just take a second. Assuming I don't stab my eye out."

Joey's eyes were wide as he stared at Nick. "One of *yours?* Holy shit! That's amazing! Nick, man, I had no idea." He looked back at the wall. "Did you do all of these? That landscape there is just fucking great. Oh, hey, go, get 'em out, don't poke yourself in the eye. Holler if you fall in." Joey walked closer to the wall, squinting in the dim light. "So cool," he said, under his breath.

Nick bit his lip and couldn't help smiling for a moment before he did slip into the bathroom. His eyes were so fucking dry, worse than he'd thought, he realized as he took them out and tossed them, and he ended up using extra drops just so they didn't feel like they were shriveling up. His glasses were at the back of the counter, right where he'd left them thankfully, and he felt more comfortable again the moment he put them on. When he went back out into the bedroom again, Joey was still looking at the walls.

"All the ones in here are mine," he told him finally, breaking the silence in the room. "And, um, most of the ones downstairs. I don't know if you saw."

"Wow," Joey repeated, turning to him with a huge smile. "You are way fucking talented, man. I'd heard you liked art, but I had no *idea*..." he gestured at the frames on the wall. "Nice glasses, by the way. Feel better now?"

Nick nodded, then smiled at him. "Thanks," he said, keeping his voice quiet now. It didn't feel like he needed to be loud, to be heard. "I love art. That's what I was taking that class, you know? To learn more about it. Cause most of what I do, I taught myself." He straightened his glasses and looked up at the pictures on his walls again, most of them his favorites. "I think I did okay."

"Damn." Joey shook his head, staring at him. "Okay? I can't believe you did all this on your own. You're like some kind of crazy art genius or something. This makes that class an even better idea." He sobered quickly. "And the fact that you're out getting wasted and doing stupid dangerous stuff an even worse one." He moved a little closer to Nick. "You've got a lot going for you, Nick. Even more than I thought you did. So don't fuck it up, ok?" He ran hands through his hair, and smiled a little. "There, last lecture of the night."

"You know it's not as easy as that," said Nick, resting his hand against the wall to keep himself balanced. "It's not as easy as knowing what I should or shouldn't do and then doing it. AJ's therapist also says I have a bunch of repressed shit, inside me, and this ... drinking, and stuff, is a way of getting it out. AJ's therapist has a lot of theories about me."

"Huh. Maybe AJ's therapist should spend a little more time thinking about AJ, and a little less time thinking about you. Since she's being paid to give *him* therapy, and all. You want a therapist you can get your own." Joey shrugged, then perched on the end of the unmade bed. "I dunno. People get crazy for a lot of reasons, and I figure the only one that knows yours is you. But drinking or not drinking, and how much, that's your decision. And yeah, when you get right down to it, it is as easy as that."

"Huh," Nick echoed him. "Sometimes I think she's right about me. And then sometimes I think she doesn't know anything at all." He groped his way over to the bed and sat down too. "It doesn't feel that easy. But ... whatever. You don't need me to unload on you about this. You really, um, think my painting is good?"

"I think your painting is amazing," Joey said simply, and smiled at him. "I think that if that singing thing ever stops working out for you, that you could paint and make a living at it, not that you'd need to. I think I'd like you to paint Brianna for me, if you ever get time."

"Seriously?" said Nick, turning his head to smile at him. "Because I would. Totally. I'd be ... honoured. I really would." He looked at his own walls again, less to be looking at the paintings than to get away from Joey's eyes. The seemed to see a lot. "I think once the singing thing is over that *is* what I'm gonna want to do. Not that I'll have to do anything."

Joey chuckled. "Well, you'll have to do *some*thing to keep yourself busy. You're just lucky you've got a huge talent and a love for something all lined up." He flopped to his back on the bed, leaving his feet hanging. "Me, man. All I've ever wanted to do is this. Like, ever. I don't know what I'll do if. When. The ride's over."

"Well," said Nick slowly, twisting his body so he could still see him. "Um. Didn't you say something about a screenwriting course before? Or ... was that something I just made up in my head? Tonight, I guess I can't be sure."

"No, yeah, that would be cool, you know. The class would be so I could understand the scripts better, really, because I can't write at *all*. Acting's fun, I love it, but I'm not very good at it." Nick had never known that a person could shrug while flat on their back. "Other than that, I don't have much else I can do."

"I really doubt that," Nick blurted out, all the more honest for that. "If *I* can have something that I like, everyone has to. Especially someone like you, you know? Someone who's just so fucking *great*."

Joey smiled up at him. "I've got things I like. Singing and dancing, acting some, being a dad. And I'm just a normal guy, Nick, like you said a while ago. Who knows, maybe I'll find my next love after this, maybe not. But just think how lucky I am, getting to get to do the thing I love most for so long."

Nick began leaning back, carefully, clinging to the edge of the bed as he descended until he was finally on his back next to Joey. "That's when I feel the most stupid, you know," he mused, closing his eyes for a moment until he regained his equilibrium in the new position. "When I do something, like tonight, and then realize afterwards that I have *so* much. That I'm so fucking lucky, most of the time."

"Yeah, you've got a lot to lose," Joey said easily, turning his head to look at Nick. "And a lot to keep it together for. Boy as gorgeous and talented as you shouldn't be out trying to drink himself into a fistfight."

"I know," admitted Nick with a sigh as he opened his eyes again, looking almost straight up. "I know it's stupid. I don't know why I do shit sometimes, I just do, you know? Like ... it makes sense at the time. Cause I can."

"No, I get that." Joey rolled to his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "But when it starts happening a lot, that's when it's not just random acts of brainlessness. Have you, like, talked to AJ about it at all? And not about his therapist and what she thinks?"

"You can't talk to AJ about anything without hearing what his therapist thinks," muttered Nick, trying not to move around too much in case the dizziness decided to come back. "Seriously. You ask him a question and he starts just ... spouting stuff at you. But ... what are you saying, anyway, about talking to AJ about it?"

"Well," Joey picked at the bedspread, seeming almost uncertain for the first time all night. "I remember seeing AJ out when he was...when it was getting bad. And it was worse than you, way worse, but." He paused, sighed, then seemed to brace himself. "I'm seeing some serious similarities, here, man. With the anger and the drinking past drunk thing. I just think maybe you could talk to him, see if he's figured out why. I mean, what he was trying to do. Maybe that could help you figure it out, too."

Nick stiffened a little, didn't want to let himself think about that. "It's not the same thing," he snapped, then sighed again. He may have been argumentative, but he didn't want to pick a fight with Joey, Joey who was good to him. "It's not," he said again, though, a little more pathetically.

"How is it different?" Joey asked quietly, still propped on his fist, looking at him with disconcertingly direct eyes. "Hot, successful, uncertain pop star out drinking too much, picking fights, getting his name in the papers. Looking pretty miserable. Not talking to his friends. You're going to have to point out the differences to me, Nick, because I'm not seeing them."

"Joey," he said, flushing in embarassment when he realized it came out more than a little whiny. "It's not like I go out to get caught or something. I don't *pick* the fights, they just happen. When I do stupid shit. I'm not ... it's not like I have a *problem*."

"Uh-huh." Joey sighed. "You may not pick the fights, but you sure are happy to see 'em coming. And when was the last time you went out drinking and woke up the next day without a hangover? When was the last time you just hung out with Howie or Brian? When was the last weekend you *didn't* go out and get shitfaced? And more importantly, how exactly do you define 'problem?'"

Nick rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead for a moment and closed his eyes, the words hitting him hard. "I don't remember, okay?" he said finally. "I don't know the last time I did anything different. But I could stop, if I really wanted to. I could."

"What would make you want to?" Joey touched gentle fingers to his forehead, where the skin was hot from his rubbing. "I believe you, I think you could stop. You're strong. But if you don't start wanting to stop soon, I think you're going to be in for a lot more unpleasant than a talking-to from some guy who had to help you find your own living room tonight. It'll only get harder, the longer you wait."

"Everyone drinks," said Nick, straightening his glasses again even though he'd hardly knocked them askew at all. "It's what I do with my friends. I didn't think it was much of a big deal until ... and then the ... it's all kind of stupid, really. But I have fun, and it's something to do, and they expect me to and all."

"Do they?" Joey sounded noncommittal. "Well, as long as you're enjoying yourself. Like I said before, it's your liver." He rolled to his back again, folding his hands under his head. "But not everyone drinks. And not many people drink like you do."

"If you have something to say to me, just say it, okay?" snapped Nick, and an uncomfortable silence followed. He carefully turned his head to the side and saw Joey laying there, looking away. "No, I'm sorry," he murmured a moment later. "I'm just ... I liked it better when you were busy complimenting me. This is ... not that. I probably deserve it, though."

"If I had something to say to you more than what I'm saying, I'd say it." Joey's voice was quiet, but there was steel underneath. "I'm not in your head, I don't know what's going on in there. I can just tell you what I see." He sat up suddenly, rocking the bed, scrubbing his hands through his hair and making it stand up in crazy haphazard spikes. "Maybe I should just get out of here, huh? Let you sleep and everything. I don't think I'm helping much anymore."

"Please don't," said Nick, his hand shooting out to stop Joey before he even really realized it. He didn't know what else to say right away, though, that wasn't just a repeat of 'don't go'. "I ... you're ... you are. As much as anyone can help, as much as there *is* anything to help. Other people, they don't talk to me like you do. And I may not like what you have to say ... but I want you to say it anyway, okay?"

Joey settled back from his tense half-rise, but didn't lie back down, easing back instead until he was propped against the wall, legs straight in front of him. "A'right, I'm staying. You really might want to think about sleeping soon, though. Sleeping though the hangover's usually the best policy. How's your hip, anyway?"

"Hurts," murmured Nick, not relaxing entirely either. "Can't sleep yet, though. I'm too ... " He gestured vaguely at his head. "A lot going on, you know? You might not thing so but ... there is. I'm listening." He probably could have slept, but he wasn't sure he'd find Joey there when he woke up and didn't want to take that chance.

"OK." Joey shifted his shoulders against the wall until he was settled more comfortably, feet crossed by Nick's elbow. He chuckled suddenly. "Between that hip and the hangover, you're gonna be a miserable bastard tomorrow, you know that? That, if nothing else, should convince you to cut back, at least. Well, that and the fact that we're gonna have a dry weekend in New York."

"Dry?" repeated Nick, surprised to find himself nervous. "You mean, completely dry? The whole time?"

"Yep. The only good thing Tony ever did in his life, as far as I can tell, is going sober two years ago. Dry wedding, dry reception, dry weekend. Dry us." He nudged Nick with a foot. "That won't be a problem for you, will it?"

Nick chewed on his lip for a moment, felt his face flush in shame again. "No," he mumbled unconvincingly. And when he looked up he could tell Joey knew it. "I may have exaggerated slightly, before," he had to correct himself, barely audible. "But I can. I'm sure I can."

"I'm sure you can too." Joey smiled at him encouragingly. "You might want to work up to it a little. You know, cut back. I don't even know if you drink on weekdays or what, but if you do, you might wanna...not. But dude, you're gonna be so overwhelmed by my family you won't even notice not drinking, I bet. And I gotta take you to Salucci's, and I'll get tickets for The Producers. We'll have a good time, you'll see."

"I know we will," said Nick, trying not to think too hard about it yet. "I, um, do, though. On weekdays. So yeah, might need a little, um, help, in that area, maybe? But, um, yeah. Family. I bet your family is great. I bet they always help you get your mind off the things that are, you know, getting you down."

"Sort of. Mostly they annoy the piss outta me and by the time I get over that, I've forgotten what was bugging me in the first place." Joey flashed him a grin. "Family's good for that. And as for the help...well, you won't be wanting a drink tomorrow, I can just about guarantee it. After that, you give me a call, I'll come over and watch you get all educated and shit and pour out all your beer. I don't know much about school, but Lance has finals coming up soon."

"Yeah," groaned Nick. "Not until next month, but ... I don't know. I was thinking about not taking it but I guess I'll give it a shot." He licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry again, but he didn't want to push himself back up to a sitting position to get more water. "I guess I'm pretty fucked up. Jay, he used to tell me that. Not in a mean way, of course. I guess ... I should have listened to him then."

"He sounds like he was making sense." Joey's eyes focused on his mouth, and he stood up again, still talking, and moved to the bathroom door. "You got a cup in here? Never mind, found one. Anyway, yeah. When your boyfriend starts telling you you're messed up, it's usually a sign that something's up." The water ran, and Joey brought the full cup back to the bed. "Is that why y'all broke up?"

"I don't think so," murmured Nick, trying to push himself up on his elbows now that the water was already there. "I guess ... he said he didn't want to have to live in secret anymore. And it wasn't ... it wasn't as bad as this, then, I don't think. We're still friends and all. Um ... miss him, though."

"Yeah. I hear you." Joey slid an arm under his shoulder and helped him up, let him lean against him, warm and solid. "I moped for months when Richard decided the boyband closet was too crowded and ran for the hills." He settled more comfortably on the bed. "But if he was worried then and it's worse now, I think maybe a dry weekend is an even better idea than I realized. Drink your water, Nick."

Nick sipped at it slowly for a moment before realizing how thirsty he was. "He worried a lot, though. That's why I didn't ... didn't listen so hard, I guess. He worried that I worked too hard and stuff, too." He sipped the water again, and realized that it was almost gone already. "You had a boyfriend?"

"Yep. For over a year. Richard was a sweetheart, but he didn't like having to sneak around. He also hated Chris with a fiery passion, which made for some interesting barbeques and bus rides. So we split. We still talk too, but he's dating a hairdresser in Miami now and he's happy as a pig in shit. More power to him."

"I'm sorry," said Nick, even though it seemed like Joey didn't need to hear it, that he was long since over it. "I can understand the not liking to have to sneak around thing, though. I mean, I don't like it either, so why should they? That just makes it ... hard. Harder. The hardest, really."

"Oh, I never saw it as being *that* bad." Joey tilted his head, considering. "Who I fuck isn't really anyone's business, after all, though it would be nice to go on a real date sometime without worrying who's watching." He smiled. "But this can't last forever, not like it is now, and I've got plenty of time. In the meantime, I just keep my eyes open for someone who'll understand."

Nick nodded slightly. "I think Jay probably would have wanted to meet the guys and stuff. He usually didn't mind staying home so much, though, he liked that. Really, um, domestic and stuff." He finished off the water and slid further into Joey's embrace. "It would probably be really nice to be your boyfriend. You treat people really well. I probably wasn't nearly as good to him."

"Oh, I'll bet you were sweet as hell." Joey let him rest his head on his shoulder, and actually seemed to pull him a little closer. "And don't make me out to be some kind of saint, here. I've got bad days like everyone else." He paused. "You mean, Jay didn't even...your guys didn't meet him? Did they know about him, at least?"

Nick shook his head a little, and almost hoped Joey didn't notice. "Oh, I mean, I'm sure they figured I was dating someone. They always seemed to know. And there were the rumors and stuff. But, um, no, they didn't meet. It wasn't ... wasn't time, is all. I tried to be sweet, though, yeah. I adored him."

"Was he your first boyfriend?" Joey's voice was low and soft and somehow gentle. "Did your guys know you were dating men at all? Must have been hard, going through even a friendly breakup without a shoulder or four to lean on."

"Yeah," admitted Nick, just as softly, smiling a little. "First boyfriend. And I told them, after the breakup. So it was okay. They, um, no, they didn't know. About the guy thing. Before, anyway, cause obviously they know how."

"Well, I'm glad he was a good one." Joey rested his chin on the top of Nick's head, and Nick could feel him move as he spoke. "How'd they take it? How'd that go?"

Nick shrugged a little, tried not to move too much. "It was okay. Could've gone better, could've gone worse. I guess no one really likes to hear that someone in their boyband is gay, it adds all these complications and stuff that you just don't need. But I'm sure you know about that."

"I guess I'm technically bi, myself. But my guys were all really cool with it, even though Lance had a tiny fit about discretion. This was a while ago, though. Since then Justin's realized he's got a taste for dick, too, so it's not even an issue any more. And when my first boyfriend turned out to be a complete asshole, Chris almost killed him. So, yeah, they've all got my back. But I'm glad yours didn't freak. That must have been hard."

"Justin?" said Nick with a surprised cough, but he didn't ask anything more than that, pulling himself back on track again. "No, they didn't freak. We all just had a nice long talk about it. And then Brian let me cry on his shoulder and it was okay. Um ... so when was your first boyfriend?"

Joey chuckled, the movement of his chest rocking Nick a little. "I was a very very stupid nineteen year old with a crush the size of Texas on one of our vocal coaches. It got ugly, Chris got vicious, pretty much end of story, though it took me a while to bounce back from that one. I'm glad Brian was there for you, after. Must have made it easier."

"Chris sounds like a guy you want to have on your side," mused Nick with another smile. He thought he felt pretty okay now, especially with Joey all but wrapped around him. "Brian was sweet. I think he was the only one that really focused on the whole 'Nick just got his heart broken' thing, rather than the 'Nick's gay' thing."

"Oh yeah," Joey agreed fervently. "Chris is definitely one to have on your side. And definitely not someone to have against you. He's like a pit bull, that boy." Joey squeezed Nick. "I'm sorry you got your heart broken, baby. That's no fun. Is that why...when, I mean. Did you start getting...mad, then?"

"Still looking for reasons?" murmured Nick, leaning into Joey's shoulder, almost unselfconsciously now. "I guess ... it didn't help any. Missing him. Wondering if I'd ever find someone again. And ... the other, usual stuff. It's so *frustrating*. It should be easy."

"What should be easy?" Joey sighed. "Life's not easy, usually. I guess I'm not looking for reasons so much as, oh, I don't know. Possible things to say that'll help, when I'm here pouring out your beer. You know, things like 'he's not worth it,' and 'it'll get better,' and 'you'll find someone amazing who'll make you so happy.' You know. Stuff."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," said Nick after a momentary pause. "Someday. But that someday could be ... well, a very long time away. I think the guys would feel better about the whole thing if I avoided dating anyway, and so would I, I think. Less chance to go through that again, you know? But I told you ... he's a good guy and we're friends and sure it hurts to hear about his new boyfriend but it's kinda good, too, cause then I don't feel so alone."

"You can't not date just because you're afraid of breaking up, or because it'll keep Kevin's blood pressure down." Nick could almost hear Joey's frown, and shifted uneasily under his arm. "Even though it ended, it sounded like you were pretty happy with him. Don't you want that again? And hey, sex. What, are you gonna just become a world-champion masturbator? You don't HAVE to be alone, you know."

"I *am* the world-champion masturbator," snorted Nick. "But, I mean, it's not like I'm not getting sex or something. Just ... discreetly. In the dark, usually. Sometimes not if I'm ... um, if I'm drunk and feeling like getting in trouble, I guess. Except I haven't, about that." He was sure he could feel Joey's disapproval again and went on, quickly. "Yeah, I want that again," he said. "Of course I want that again. Who doesn't want to be happy?"

"I don't know," Joey sounded doubtful, "but you don't seem to be looking for it very hard. Anonymous sex in the dark is sometimes fun, but it's not exactly a substitute for real, honest to god slow and easy naked in the bed all lazy afternoon fucking."

Nick sighed wistfully as Joey said that, shifting against him again and moving even closer, if that was possible. Being with Joey was comforting, made him feel good, and there weren't a lot of things that did that anymore.

"I know that," he said after a moment. "And I do want that again. But ... well, you're not looking right now either, are you? And ... there are reasons for that."

"Sure I'm looking. I said I was keeping my eyes open, right?" Joey's hand slipped from Nick's arm to his waist as he squirmed, and Nick stilled, then breathed again when Joey didn't move away. "I mean, I don't have a personal ad out or anything, but if something good comes my way I'm not going to send it away just because it might make my life a little more complicated. Life's too short, and I *am* looking for happiness."

"If something good comes my way, I'm not going to say no," said Nick quietly but firmly, deciding that right then and there. Because life *was* too short, and there had to be something out there other than what he was already doing. "If I found something, just like that, I'd explain it to the guys and I wouldn't let them talk me out of it. But ... no, I'm not actively looking. I'm not even sure I know how, or how I'd know when it was good, anymore. I ... I think I'm a little messed up about that, too."

"Well," Joey drawled, "when you find some guy who makes you smile and sing and want to lick him all over, that's probably gonna be a good place to start." His voice went light again. "It doesn't really have to be complicated, you know. Just give yourself permission to be happy, and it'll all come from there. Nothing to be messed up about."

"That's easy for you to say," said Nick, rubbing his forehead again. It was aching, but not intolerably; he was definitely very close to sober now. "And I'm not just being bitter or snarky or something when I say that. I think it *is* easier for you to say that, because you've never been messed up about it." He had to grin, thinking about it though, thinking about what Joey was apparently looking for in a guy. "I've given myself permission to be happy; it's just taking a long time to happen."

"Here." Warm fingers pressed gently at his temples, rubbing in small circles. Nick's eyes fell shut. "Oh, I was messed up about it. Me, Joey Fatone, player of players, into guys?" His voice rose to a horrified falsetto "Say it ain't so!" He chuckled, and his voice went back to normal. "So I moaned and bitched and angsted about it. JC was sure I was falling into some kind of vitamin deficiency--don't ask, he has strange ideas about food--and Justin followed me around all the time to make sure I didn't get drunk and fall down the stairs. I think I was, hmm. 18, at the time. And then the bad boyfriend, and then a good one, and then a couple more bad ones and a girlfriend or three. So, you know, I do understand."

"Maybe you do," admitted Nick with a soft moan, the ache in his head subsiding appreciably. "I guess maybe you do, yeah. It's tough, you know. Being yourself, when you're ... what we are. I'd probably say something stupid like "it's tough being me" if I didn't think it would make you stop doing what you're doing."

"I won't stop, but that's pretty lame. It's tough being *anyone,* kiddo. Life's life, no matter what you're doing, and things are rough all over." Joey sighed into Nick's hair. "And now you've got me quoting 'The Outsiders,' and should probably kick my ass. Just do the best you can, you know? That's all anyone can do. And you've got a lot to work with."

"Well, it's good that I didn't say it, then," joked Nick, elbowing him gently. "I am trying, you know. To keep going. Figure out what I'm doing. I may be doing a lousy job of it, but I *am* trying." Nick tilted his head back, resting it against Joey's body. "I really like you, you know. You're great to me."

"Well, you make it easy." Joey kept rubbing. "You're a sweetheart, and I like you too. Even when you're almost getting my ass kicked and/or puking on my shoes. And I think you're doing ok with the figuring things out. You know what you want, and that's a big step. Just think how miserable you'd be if you were still trying to date women!"

"Sorry about the puking thing," muttered Nick, flushing once more. He'd done a whole lot of things to be ashamed of that night, yet Joey was still right there, being so amazingly patient with him. "And yeah, at least I'm past the dating women thing. That one just ... never really worked for me so much."

"Only you would apologize for the puking instead of the asskicking," Joey chuckled. "It's really not a big deal, I'm just teasing you. When did you figure it out, anyway? About the women, I mean?"

Nick chewed on his lip as he thought about it. "A while before I did anything about it. Sixteen? Maybe seventeen? I guess it's not fair to say I figured it out then ... I just kinda had a suspicion. A suspicion that I was just *really* not ready to follow up on at all, not then."

"Well, you were in the process of becoming an internationally famous superstar," Joey pointed out. "You had a lot on your mind." He shifted Nick a little. "Oof, there. My leg was falling asleep. So, you pined from afar until you met Jay?"

"Pretty much, yeah," admitted Nick, and another smile came to his face as he remembered Jay. It may have ended and broken his heart, but it had been good while it lasted. "Do you, um, need me to move, or am I okay here?" He offered, sure, but he didn't really move at all. Didn't want to. "Anyway. Yeah. Back then guys were only something I thought about, and didn't actually do anything about."

"Nah, you're good." Joey shifted him a little more, then relaxed again. "And Jay, what. Did he just make you an offer you couldn't refuse? Or were you looking, when you found him? You don't have to tell me this stuff, I'm just being nosy, I know."

"I don't mind," said Nick quietly, finally relaxing himself, feeling comfortable. "It's cool. You understand, about it. I guess ... right place at the right time or something. He didn't ask me to go home with him, he asked me to go for coffee. And ... that's a big deal to me. That someone didn't just lust after me. So yeah. Coffee. Coffee was the offer I couldn't refuse. Can you believe it?"

"Absolutely. Richard was the same way, so I get that. He bought me a slice of pizza and we ate it standing on the sidewalk the night we met, and it was just about the most romantic thing ever." Nick could almost feel Joey's smile. "That's the good stuff. The stuff you don't want to miss out on. Though I imagine he was lusting after you too."

"Well, yeah," said Nick, "but he wasn't *just* lusting, that was the key. He wanted to talk to me, too. He wanted to hear what I had to say. Do you still miss him? Richard, I mean?"

"Sometimes," Joey admitted softly. "Sometimes I miss him a lot. But he wasn't the one, so it's better that it ended, I think. He didn't understand music, and that was...that was hard. Even without Chris, or the closet thing, it wouldn't have worked. But it was good while it lasted."

"Yeah," breathed Nick, understanding that completely. "The music thing, that's hard. Because that's ... that's just so important. Even if I wasn't, you know, who I am, it would still be huge to me. And I guess ... I bet you're the same way about it. Jay was pretty good about it, he understood the whole passion thing, but I know he didn't feel it the same way."

"When I'm tired, and I think I'm cold, I hide in my music and forget the day..." Joey sang softly, then snorted. "It's true enough, though. When something's such a big part of your life, you gotta be able to share at least some of it. Just one more thing to put on the checklist for the ideal person, I guess."

"Yeah," murmured Nick, sliding further still into his embrace. "God. You're so damn perfect. You know that?"

"What?" Joey sounded startled, and moved like he was trying to get a look at Nick's face. "Perfect? Hardly. That hangover must be hitting you hard. What on earth are you talking about?"

"No, actually, it's not," said Nick, backing down again and ducking out of Joey's view. "Thanks, you've really helped. And I just ... I just meant you're a really great person. You know? And, um, you're gonna make someone really happy. You'd be perfect for ... someone."

"Hey, no, come back here." Joey turned to face him. "You're a terrible liar, Carter, for future reference." Joey's eyes were almost gold in the light from the bathroom door. "I'm a nice enough guy, I guess, but not even close to perfect, unless you mean something I'm just not getting. So spill."

"No, I meant exactly that," mumbled Nick, looking down quickly. "You'd be perfect *for* someone. I know you're not perfect. No one's perfect. And if you were *really* perfect you'd have had something better to do tonight than pick up the pieces of me. So yeah, I *did* mean what I said." The only thing missing had been *who* he thought Joey would be perfect for, and he was sure Joey would be able to figure that out on his own.

"You were in fairly appealing pieces." Joey stopped talking, and reached for his chin, and tipped his face up, though Nick kept his eyes stubbornly down. "Nick. Look at me. C'mon." Nick frowned, and slowly raised his eyes, and got the quickest flash of warm brown before Joey was leaning forward and gently, softly kissing him. Nothing pushy, just a quick brush of mouth on mouth, slight scratch of beard, warm breath, then it was over. Joey blinked at him, so close.

Nick just breathed for a few moments, taking that in, staring at Joey so long his eyes began to ache. "Okay," he whispered, trying to keep a goofy smile from crossing his face. "Um. Next time, if you tell me you're gonna kiss me? I'll brush my teeth first. Cause it's nasty in there." The he did smile, and it probably looked as foolish and confused and surprised and elated as he felt, and he didn't care.

Joey smiled right back, bright as sunshine. "You'll note the lack of tongue action. Usually my kisses are a little more...involved, but. Yeah. If you wanted to go take care of that, I could wait right here. Since you should really brush your teeth before bed anyway. You've got the prettiest smile, it would be a shame if you got cavities or something."

"I'm almost scared to leave," admitted Nick, still staring. "I know that sounds stupid, but ... I feel like if it's not right in front of me, it won't have been real. And I want it to be real."

Joey looked pleased, and turned a little pink, maybe, though it was hard to tell in the dimness. "I promise to be here, in the flesh, when you get back from brushing your teeth. You couldn't pry me out of here with a crowbar right now. But I'd really like to kiss you properly, too. It's your call, though. Either way, you're stuck with me for a bit."

"I'll go, I'll go," said Nick, but was careful getting up off the bed, not quick. "I want to ... need to know what you're thinking right now. But first, teeth. Um." He licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry again, and was glad he'd be able to get another glass of water while he was up. "If you hear me gagging, don't worry. I'm ... um ... I think I'm probably still a little sensitive." And *that* was embarassing, but it was nothing worse than what Joey had already seen.

"OK, I won't come dashing to your rescue," Joey said solemnly, but with a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Try not to choke on the toothbrush, though. What a way to go." He sprawled back comfortably on the bed, and watched Nick move around the room. "You could get out of those clothes, too, unless you don't mind transferring the club-reek to your blankets."

"I'm going to assume that wasn't a really lame come-on line," teased Nick, still smiling goofily at him, "and tell you that I actually have pajamas in the top drawer if you want to get me some and promise not to laugh. If you plan to laugh, though, the boxers are in the drawer below that and the T-shirts are in the closet and you can get those instead. Or ... you could just make yourself comfortable and I'll do it myself when I come back." And then he did duck into the bathroom before he managed to say anything else that might come off as incredibly dumb.

Joey was still giggling, head in hands, when Nick peeked around the bathroom door again, but there was a t-shirt and boxers laid out on the bed, and Joey himself seemed to be wearing one of Nick's old Led Zeppelin shirts with his jeans. "Hope you don't mind," Joey looked up, still grinning. "My shirt was just as rank as yours. And goddamn, you're the cutest thing I've ever seen. Or heard, I guess. C'mere." He held out a hand to Nick.

"You're laughing," noted Nick, but he didn't really mind that much. He let Joey draw him back to the bed easily, his body starting to ache a little but not badly, not yet. "Guess you didn't want to see me in pajamas, huh? It's not like there was Snoopy on them or something. Or feet." Joey's grin just got wider. "Oh, stop," he muttered, reaching for the clothing. "I'm not *that* cute."

"Oh, yes, you really are," Joey contradicted immediately. "And I'm in a position to say. Nick, your PJs have Pac-Man. I'm dying to see you in them, but then I figured I'd be so slaughtered by the cute that I'd be no good to you at all. I'd just be this big mumbling lump of Joey-mush. As it is, you're pushing it." He had big hands, Nick noted. Even bigger than Nick's own, and wider, and the fingers wrapped around his easily. Joey wasn't letting go. "So I chose the boxers for the sake of my own continued coherence."

"You're so ridiculously sweet," said Nick with a short laugh, staring at him. "You seriously are. And there *were* striped ones in there, too, you know. Or did you just see the Pac-Man and close the drawer in the midst of a giggle fit? Cause I can picture that." He may not have been self-conscious before, but he suddenly was about changing in front of Joey. He would have taken them into the bathroom, but Joey was holding him where he was pretty firmly.

"Stripes aren't really all that much better than Pac Man," Joey argued. "You'd still look like a very large and disturbingly gorgeous five year old in them. So yes, I saw the stripes. You think a little Pac-Man could scare me away?" He grinned up at Nick, still standing, and let their fingers untwine, though his other hand loosely held Nick's wrist. "There. Get on your bed gear, get comfy." He looked at Nick expectantly.

"That's a little hard when you're holding my hand," said Nick with a grin and a flush which was half anticipation and half embarrassment. "And I'm not a child. You *know* I'm not a child. And I swear I look at least eight in the PJs."

"I am very sure you're not a child, or I'd be fairly disgusted with myself for the thoughts I've been having about you recently." Joey leered at him cheerfully, but let go of his hand. "Maybe six or seven. No way eight. In fact, I'm tempted to go get them and have you put them on so I could prove it, but that would delay the whole kissing thing I've got planned, so no. We can save that for another time."

"So you're saying you're not gonna kiss me more if I model my PJ's for you?" said Nick, looking away for a moment and thinking a little too hard and too long about just what it would be like to have Joey carry through on that kissing thing. "Or are they only good for when you're thinking about cuddling me? Cause that might feel a little silly but it might be nice anyway, you know?"

Joey laughed, bright and a little startling in the dark quiet room. "I promise kisses and cuddles no matter what you're wearing, baby. It's just that you might have to scrape me off the floor if the PJs make an appearance at this point. No, no, wear whatever you want." He lounged back comfortably on the bed, propped on his elbows, watching Nick.

Nick looked at him for a long moment, trying to gauge if he meant it or not, the finally sighed and made his way to the dresser, trying not to stumble on the way. "You can laugh if you have to," he mumbled, opening the drawer, "but I'm feeling all weird and stuff and ... " He wasn't sure he could explain it, so he didn't try. "I'm just gonna go change, I won't be long. I swear."

"OK," Joey agreed easily. "Like I said, whatever makes you comfortable. Don't feel weird. It's just me." He grinned at Nick. "In the dark, no one can see your Pac-man jammies...and I'm not going anywhere, Nick, you can really take your time."

Nick still felt embarrassed by all the attention that was being paid to them, but they were comfortable and familiar and that was what he felt like he needed right then, when everything else was feeling strange and new and a little *un*comfortable. He grabbed them out of the drawer quickly and dashed back into the bathroom, pulling them on then sliding his glasses back on to look at himself in the mirror. He stared for a moment, then stuck his tongue out at himself and re-entered the bedroom.

Joey's eyes went wide, then crinkled up in the bright smile Nick was starting to love seeing so much. "I feel like I should be asking you for ID, right about now. Jesus god, do you have any idea...no, no, it's good," as Nick felt himself starting to frown. "C'mere. I promised kisses, and right now you look just about good enough to eat. Jammies and my secret horror of someday being caught with an underage fan aside."

"I'm not a fan," lied Nick, though a week ago it wouldn't have been. "So you're safe." He pushed his glasses up and slowly crawled up onto the bed, aware that the alcohol was still affecting him but not wanting Joey to remember that. "I feel stupid," he muttered, but it was the good kind of stupid this time. The kind of stupid where you know you're being a dork and completely uncool and are feeling incredibly self-conscious about it, but you feel good and safe at the same time.

"Stupid about the drinking still, or stupid because you're wearing goofy pajamas?" Joey asked lightly, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into his body. "Because we've already covered one, and the other one's just silly. JC got me a Superman costume last year as a present, only it was this made out of sweatsuit stuff, you know? Super soft. I sleep in it all the time." He shifted so he was a little under Nick's body, Nick's head by his shoulder, still holding him close. "Good to know you're not a fan, though, Carter. That puts my mind at ease."

"Yeah," murmured Nick, feeling more content by the moment. "Means I'm in bed with you for the right reasons." He only felt dizzy for a moment as Joey hauled him up next to him which he took as a good sign, even though the ache in his head refused to disappear entirely. He had a feeling he was going to be suffering from it for a while, and that he deserved to. "If you ever wear the Superman suit in front of me, we can call it even. So are you in that puddle on the floor yet, or am I still not cute enough?"

"Oh, I'm puddled," Joey assured him. "It's disgusting, really, you shouldn't even look at me. What a mess. And no, I'm not gonna wear the Superman suit for you. Not a chance." He turned his head a little, so their noses were almost brushing. Joey's eyes were like really good brandy, Nick thought, warm and brown with a hint of sparkle, and then he winced away from the alcohol reference. "How's your head?" Joey's voice was low, now, quiet. "And your stomach? You feeling ok, Nick? You're still awful white."

Nick nodded slightly, then changed his mind and shook his head. "Hurts," he said honestly, even though there were other things going on in that bed that were contributing to him being just a little more pale than normal. "Not so bad, though. Been worse." That probably wasn't the smartest thing to say about it, but he was banking on the pajamas to get him through that little blunder. If Joey really was a puddle on the floor, he wouldn't really be catching much.

Joey frowned a little, opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider and shut it, rubbing little circles at Nick's waist with the hand there. It was quiet, Joey blinking and breathing and thinking, right *there.* So close that the seam of his jeans was rubbing against Nick's thigh where they were pressed together, that Nick could feel every inch of Joey's arm around him, Joey's shoulder under him. He was so wrapped up in the feelings, filtering through the pain in his head and the shakiness, that he almost missed it when Joey spoke. "So. Hurts. You need more Advil? More water?"

"No," he whispered. "It'll pass. It always does. Don't ... don't wanna move so much. You okay, too?" He wasn't so sure anymore, not with the frown that Nick couldn't decide was sympathy or disapproval. Or both. "I'm not sure what's happening, Joey, but I think -- I hope -- it's good."

"I'm ok, I'm just back to worrying that there's an 'always' that you know about, in situations like this. With the headache, I mean. But it's ok. We don't have to move around much, all the walking's over with." He smiled a little again, finally. "And yeah, it's good, I think. I like being here with you."

"Joey," said Nick with a soft sigh, tucking his knees up and curling against Joey's side. "You know. You know it's an always, we've been through that and nothing's changed since then except I'm more sober now. Which matters, I think, right? That I am?" It felt even better, hearing that Joey liked being with him, even though it was something that he'd already figured out for himself.

"I know." Joey brushed his hair back off his forehead, traced fingers down his cheek. "That doesn't mean I won't worry, though. 's what I do best. Ask the guys, they're always bitching at me to quit it." He dipped forward quickly and touched his mouth to Nick's, another light kiss. "And yeah, it matters. I wouldn't have done that if you were still wasted."

"I wouldn't blame you," murmured Nick, curling even closer and feeling very young again. It sounded very much like Joey was here to take care of him, and the definition of 'take care of' just kept expanding. "I taste pretty good, though, depending on what I've had. For future reference. Um. If there's a future."

"I think I'd like to taste Nick." Joey said slowly, like he was thinking about it seriously. "Just Nick, not Nick and whatever he's had." He licked his own lips, and bent close again. "I think that's the taste I could get addicted to." And his lips were a little parted this time, so when he kissed, Nick slipped his tongue out, hoping for a taste of Joey, too.

It had been a while, really, since Nick had been in this position with someone. And when he looked down at himself, and looked down at Joey, and kissed him again, Nick thought that maybe he'd never been in quite this position before. And that something new like this was probably a very good thing for him. For once, he had no idea what was going to happen next.

"You're just tasting toothpaste right now," he said after a moment, licking his lips and smiling. "I know it's good toothpaste and all, but hardly addictive."

Joey smiled back, licking his own lips. "It *is* good toothpaste," he agreed, "but I can still taste you." His eyes drooped a little, heavy and warm. "You taste sweet." He kissed with a little more purpose this time, still holding his body still but sucking insistently at Nick's lip, sliding his tongue inside and licking at Nick's mouth, bringing his free hand up and Nick could feel fingers tangling in his hair.

"You realized you're ravishing an eight-year-old," teased Nick, tugging Joey back for another kiss almost before he'd finish speaking. Joey's reputation as experienced apparently wasn't undeserved, in this area, anyway. Nick wondered for just a moment how long it had been for Joey, and if Nick was what he wanted or if he was just *there*.

"Oh man," Joey groaned into his mouth, laughing. "Don't even go there. And you're doing a fair share of the ravishing yourself, you know, and damn well. If I close my eyes, I can almost forget you're such an infant." He chuckled again, kissed the tip of Nick's nose playfully, making Nick's eyes cross as he tried to maintain focus. "We'll have to do this without the pajamas sometime, so I can get some good guilt-free making out time in."

"Next time," said Nick carefully, kissing just the corner of Joey's mouth, "maybe i won't need them. Um. When do you think next time might be?" Because he'd make it a point to stay sober, if he knew he was going to see Joey, if he knew there was going to be something else to fill him up. There would be enough nights where Joey wasn't there that he wouldn't miss it *so* much. He didn't think.

Joey's mouth quirked where Nick had kissed it. "Next time? Well, I don't really know. Tomorrow night I've got Bri, but you're totally welcome to come hang out with us. If you want to, I mean, I know that freaks some people out. Tuesday the Timberlake Foundation has a thing, I gotta be there to make sure *my* infant doesn't make a total ass out of himself. Other than that," he shrugged, "I'm free till liftoff on Friday. How 'bout you?"

"Well," said Nick hesitantly. "I've got friends, and they're gonna wanna ... you know, go out. They'll expect me to. And I promised AJ that I'd visit him at least once, so he can spend a few hours bitching about how much Kevin smothers him and telling me his therapist's latest theories about me and probably cooking me dinner. But mostly ... mostly I'm free, I think. When I'm not out. And even then, well, look where you found me tonight, right?"

Joey sighed. "I hate to remind you, Nick, but...dry weekend. Remember? You're gonna maybe want to give the clubs a pass this week, because holding your head through the DTs isn't gonna make me very popular at the wedding." He pulled away a little. "Just because your friends expect you to, you don't have to go out. And if you do, you don't have to get wasted." He paused. "And if you do, I might not be there. I can't be hunting you down every night, wondering if you're gonna be able to walk or talk when I do find you."

"Joey, it's not like that," said Nick lifting his head a little to look at him, letting some of his hurt show in his eyes even though a part of him knew why Joey was saying what he was. "It's just ... they're my friends. And. And it's what I do. I'm not asking you to chase after me, Joey. I'm not asking you to save me. I ... there's nothing to save me *from*. Is there?" He hadn't meant to add that last question, it had just slipped out, and he was sure that his expression when it did told Joey just exactly that.

"I can't save you." Joey's face was a little grim, now. "Don't even want to try, because I know how that goes, and I'm pretty sure you do too. And you know and I know that there sure as hell is something to save you from, and you're gonna be the only one that can do it." Joey tried a smile, but it looked a little painful. "I'll miss the pj's if you're sitting in rehab, y'know. No visits, even conjugal. The hospital or jail'll be even worse."

"Joey," breathed Nick, ignoring the sting in his eyes as he continued to stare at him. "Joey, it's not .. that's not .. don't, okay? Not right now. Maybe ... " Joey's face was still strange, but he looked more upset than angry. "Maybe there are things that'll I'll need to work on, and maybe talk about and maybe change. But it's not gonna happen tonight ... and you feel really good and ... " He felt like all of a sudden he'd reached a crossroads, and whatever he did or chose now was critical. "Maybe I do have a problem, okay? But I'm sober right now and I'm with you and ... you're with me. And I think I like this better."

"A'right, a'right, easy." Joey cuddled him close again. "As long as you like this better, we've got someplace to start from. You're a hell of a lot smarter when you're sober, you know that? More fun to be around. But we're good for now, you're right. Besides, it's fucking," he raised his wrist and checked, "after four am, and god, no one needs to be having heavy discussions at four am. Or after. So, gimmee another kiss, and then sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Not sure how I can feel much better than this," murmured Nick, but Joey was right, it was late and he was hurting and Joey would still be there in the morning. He leaned in and gave Joey another kiss, long and deep and maybe the first 'real' kiss that he'd been the one to initiate. "You should take those pants off," he added as he curled against Joey's side again. "More comfortable that way."

"Don't get fresh with me, Carter," Joey warned, a smile in his voice. "I'm not that kinda girl." He was heavy and relaxed, though, Nick could feel his long slow breaths. "Won't be the first time I've slept with my jeans on, won't be the last, I'm sure. It's too damn cold in this house to be sleeping in my shorts, anyway." He wrapped a long leg around one of Nick's, tangling them together.

"I have blankets," Nick reminded him, but they were on top of them and neither one of them seemed to want to move so he just wrapped himself around Joey, tangling all their limbs, and breathed hotly against his neck. "Don't go anywhere," he mumbled, and closed his eyes.

"Nope." Joey's voice was a sigh in his ear. "Not goin' anywhere. Comfy. Tired. Sleep now. Talking and kissing in the morning. Like you there on top of me." And yeah, Nick was pretty much using Joey as a full body pillow at this point, so he was glad Joey approved. "Sleep."

"Morning," agreed Nick, almost *feeling* his vocabulary decline. The sleep that he probably could have used an hour ago was finally hitting him. "Water. Advil. Talk. Night, Joey."

* * *

"I'll be back," said Nick, patting Howie on the shoulder and carefully standing up, balancing himself on the table before heading off toward the bathroom. He had to piss like a racehorse, and it didn't feel like it was going to wait a second longer than it had to. As he pushed through the door, he figured that Howie would probably be nice enough to order another round before he got back; Howie was a gentleman like that.

The place was *packed*. He'd really had no idea that Justin's little foundation...thing...had gotten so big. He was pretty sure he'd seen J-Lo, and maybe Enrique Eglesias, which he was NOT going to tell Howie, since he really didn't feel like being left alone at the table while Howie went fanboy. And there was Justin himself, curls unmistakeable, standing at the urinal talking to someone in a stall. Nick smirked as he remembered a shred of what Joey had told him a few days ago.

And of course he kept watching out of the corner of his eye as he drained his bladder, taking longer than he really needed to. He wondered who Justin was talking to, and just what they might be planning to do as soon as they were alone in the bathroom again. Obviously he was interested, he hadn't even turned his head yet to notice that Nick was even there.

A zip and a flush, and the door swung open, and Joey's eyes met his in the mirror. He looked startled, then pleased, his smile breaking out like the sun. "Nick!" he crowed, breaking into Justin's monologue. "Hey, J, you didn't tell me you'd invited the Boys. Nick, dude, you didn't tell me you were coming!" Justin was looking at Nick curiously, quiet, as Joey went to touch Nick's shoulder, then veered off to the sink and started washing his hands. Nick didn't know what to do. His head was spinning, a bit, and the lights were too bright in here, and he didn't want Joey to know...

The safest thing at the moment seemed to be the same, to zip up and wash his hands and use the sink to keep himself perfectly steady as he and Joey inevitably spoke. He figured he could keep up the act long enough to start sobering up, assuming Joey wanted to hang with him that long, but he didn't know how his face looked -- his own image in the mirror had been blurry enough to look fine.

"Howie had an invite," he said a moment later; he'd been doing this long enough, at least, to know his voice would sound fine. "He let me tag along."

Joey grinned at him, drying off his hands and then glancing over at Justin, who was moving towards the door with a casual wave at Nick. "Hey, Justin, I'll catch up with you, ok?"

"Yeah." Justin waved again, still looking curious, but clearly not willing to linger. "Later, Carter. I'll be up front, Joe."

"Cool." Joey turned his attention back to Nick, who was carefully wiping his fingers dry on a paper towel. "Hey." His voice had changed somehow, now that they were alone. It was warmer, like Nick remembered from the morning and the phone calls since. "I'm glad you came. You having a good time? You totally shoulda let me know you were going to be here."

"I didn't know until the last minute," said Nick clumsily attempting to tread the line between not letting Joey see his eyes and not making Joey think he didn't want him there. "I wasn't even sure I'd see you. You know how these things are. I was gonna call you, tomorrow, like I said." He missed the garbage can when he went to drop the towel in, and hoped it just looked like a goof.

"Yeah, we still on for lunch?" Was Joey watching him a little more sharply? Nick couldn't tell, not without his glasses, and he hadn't put his contacts in. He'd been forsi..forewa...he'd been thinking ahead. "I was thinking I could come get you a little early, maybe hang out. See some more of your paintings. Oh, and I told JC how much you like art, and he totally wants to talk to you, but I said I'd have to ask you first."

"That would be cool," he said, turning toward Joey and staring at his shoulder as they spoke. "I don't have many people to talk art with. You can give him my number. And ... of course we're on for lunch. I've been looking forward to it." He leaned heavily against the sink still, even though he was mostly sure he could walk without stumbling. Joey would notice the slightest thing, he was sure of it.

Now Joey was frowning, Nick could see even out of the corner of his eye. "Hey. Did I grow horns or something? Got something on my face? Or are you staring at the wall for some reason I just don't get?" Joey moved closer, reaching out a hand for Nick's face. "Did I do something wrong? I know I haven't stopped over or anything, but I had Bri and then that recording thing..."

Nick flinched away from Joey's hand -- he hoped unnoticably -- and finally, nervously, looked up at his face. "No, I know," he said, still sure, at least, of his voice. "And we've talked." He tried a smile. "We're good, Joey. Nothing to worry about."

"This is not good," Joey declared firmly, dropping his hand and looking a little angry. "You look...fuck. Nick. Fuck. You're fucking wasted, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "I thought you said you were here with Howie? Nick, it's Tuesday. And I thought...I thought you were gonna not do that, this week. You said. And you were supposed to call me if you...ah, fuck."

"I'm sorry," said Nick weakly, looking down again. "I tried. I did!" Joey looked skeptical, of course, and angry. That was about all that Nick could pick out, though. "I didn't have anything and I was even painting this afternoon and then ... Howie brought me out and ... and I figured a couple couldn't hurt, right? Because Howie got them for me. But ... " He knew he didn't need to finish. Joey had probably known the whole story before he'd even started it. It was certainly a familiar one.

"Well, you're still walking and talking, I guess that's a good sign." Joey still had the anger in his voice, but underneath it was something Nick couldn't quite make out. "No more, OK, Nick? No more tonight? And we can get together after, I was actually gonna call you anyway, there's a band playing that Lance is interested in down on the South side, I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to go..." He shook his head, and muttered, "Howie, Jesus, I can't believe he let you...we've only been here an hour..."

"I hold my liquor pretty well," muttered Nick, "and Howie likes to have fun, when AJ isn't around to set an example for." He dared to lift his eyes again, but not all the way; he wasn't sure he wanted to see Joey's eyes, if he even could, and he definitely wasn't sure he wanted Joey to see his."I'd like to. Go out with you guys, I mean. I can stop now. They have other stuff to drink here, right?"

"Yeah. JC's been drinking iced tea all night." The anger was mostly gone, and Nick felt something inside him relax. "Hey." Joey reached for him again. "Hey, man, you know...you know I'm not trying to be an asshole, right? I'm only doing this cuz you kinda gave me the OK to, before. And, like...anyway. Yeah. No more, and we'll go out after. Should only be another hour, Justin's gladhanding the benefactors and everything."

"All you guys going, then?" said Nick, his fingers still curled around the edge of the sink so he wouldn't so much as sway in front of Joey. "And you're sure I can't have a couple more just to give me the nerve to handle all of you at once?" It was a joke, mostly, but Joey wasn't laughing. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll try and tell Howie I've had enough. You'll come find me then? Later?"

"How 'bout I come with you, so I know where you're sitting? And nah, it's just me and C and Lance. Justin and Chris are heading out of town tonight." Joey grabbed his hand off the sink, held it in his hand, looking at it, then smiled at Nick and dropped a quick kiss in the palm. "Thank you for stopping now."

Nick couldn't help but smile back. "Thank me when I've actually done it, okay?" he said softly. Honestly. "It'll mean more, then." It was such a stupid thing to be proud of, but Nick thought maybe he would be, if he did it. "I'm really not doing so bad, you know. It'll be good, tonight. I think Howie has plans anyway."

"No offense, but if *you* put enough back in an hour to be that wobbly, you're not doing so great, either." Joey's voice was even, though, and he was still smiling a little. "I'll come with you to tell Howie, and maybe that'll help. Either that or I could put you to work." He grinned micheviously. "Wanna come meet the CEO of Daimler-Chrysler? I think Lance is in love."

"I'm sure I'd make just a fabulous first impression," said Nick, trying to smile though his eyes dropped yet again. "I'm not wobbling. Am I?" Except he was, he could almost tell when he thought about it, which meant it was easy for Joey to pick out. And he was right, Nick had to admit privately, that maybe he *wasn't* doing so good at this not-drinking thing.

"A little," Joey confirmed. "Not too bad. I can really only tell because I'm looking." He smiled and took Nick's hand again, tugging it a little. "C'mon. Let's go find Howie and cut you off. Seriously, Nick, I'm counting on you. I really want to spend time with you tonight, but...you gotta keep it together for me, OK?" He dropped Nick's hand at the door, though Nick could still feel the warm press of fingers. "Once we get out of here, it'll be easy. This band's supposed to play some good dance stuff." The grin turned wicked. "I'll try to keep you distracted."

"You can always keep me distracted," murmured Nick, not even sure if Joey could hear. It probably didn't matter, because he was pretty sure Joey knew that already. "Howie probably won't listen to you," he warned him, "but I'll do it anyway. Iced tea from here on in. So. Um. What kind of place is this we're going to anyway?"

Joey pushed through the door, and raised his voice as the din and smoke of the bar washed over them again. "Howie'll listen, he's a smart kid. We're going to some club, the Down Under. Got a limo and everything, so you don't have to worry about it. You got security tonight? They gonna tag along?" His head turned as he scanned the crowd, waving and grinning as JC bounced by, hair everywhere, sequinned shirt sparkling in the dim light. "Where were you sitting, man?"

Nick gestured toward the far side of the bar, squinting as a bright ligh hit his eyes. "Howie has people here tonight. Like I said ... I was just kinda tagging along, he was gonna drop me at home after. It was just supposed to be a ... a casual thing." He squnted across the crowd, but saw nothing, really. "The Down Under? Sounds like you're taking me to some sex club."

"Hah. You wish." Joey started threading his way across the room, Nick tagging at his heels and trying not to lose him and not to stumble and to keep listening. "No, some Australian guy owns it, I guess. I'm glad y'all are hanging out, you and Howie. That's cool. Guess you haven't been doing too much of that, though, if he's keeping the drinks coming." Joey apparently saw Howie at a crowded table, because he started moving more directly. "No, it's just some music club. Should be fun. Totally not a pop scene, we won't get mobbed or nothing." "Yeah," said Nick, thinking about what that would be like. "That sounds great, Joey. Thanks for thinking of me. You were really gonna call, if we hadn't run into each other in the bathroom?" He grabbed hold of Joey's sleeve as they wove through another crowd of people. "And what is it about us and bathrooms, anyway?"

Joey glanced back at him and laughed. "I dunno, man. Of all the places. I guess everyone ends up there, right?" He lifted a hand to Howie, who was looking in their direction. "I was really gonna call, yes. Haven't seen you since Sunday morning. Hey, Howie." He came to a stop in front of their table, smiling at Howie and his friend. "Dude, c'mere a second, I gotta ask you a question." Howie shot a questioning glance at Nick, but stood and came around the table. Nick noticed how tiny he looked by Joey's side.

"Joey, what are you -- ?" he began, but didn't finish the question. He knew Joey was listening, but he wasn't paying direct attention to Nick, not at that moment. Given what they'd talked about, why Joey had come with him back to the table in the first place, Nick was pretty sure that he was about to feel very embarassed. If not worse.

"Hey, man." He clapped a friendly hand on Howie's shoulder, sent him that twinkling smile, and Nick could almost see Howie warming to him. "So glad you could make it!"

Howie grinned back. "Oh, I'm always happy to help out. Chris and JC did the Lupus thing for me, so it's only fair. What's up, man?"

"Still. Very cool of you to come. I was actually hoping to steal Nick from you tonight, take him out later, but we're gonna be checking out this band and it'd be cool if he could help us out a little. But he thought you'd be pissed if he stopped drinking with y'all, so I told him I'd run some interference so he'd have a clear head later." Joey smiled at Howie winningly. "I'm cutting you off, Dorough. No more drinking for the BSB!"

Howie turned to look at Nick with some amusement, then back at Joey again. "You're welcome to Nicky," he said with a breezy wave of his hand, "but I've already got a Heineken with my name on it. You should take him around; the kid needs to have more fun." He turned to give Nick a look. "Just not the kind of fun that involves the cops."

"The kid is standing right in front of you," Nick reminded him needlessly, but it was hard to get too annoyed when those big brown eyes of Joey's were looking in his direction now, too, and that smile was just for him.

The smile stayed in place as Joey's head dipped down by Howie's and he said something too low for Nick to hear, but Howie looked startled, then a little alarmed, then nodded. Joey pulled back and nodded himself once, firmly, then turned back to Nick. "OK, kiddo, you're with me. Follow, and experience all the joy that begging money from really rich people has to offer. Howie..." He stuck out his hand and shook Howie's firmly, "you have fun. Thanks again for showing." He waved at the table of people, then herded Nick back into the crowd.

"What did you say to him?" demanded Nick, a little childishly though he didn't recognize that until long after he'd said it. It wasn't the best way to get Joey's attention, but his limited past experience had shown him that at least it worked. "Joey ... "

"Nice pout, baby." Joey grinned at him and kept on walking. "I'm not telling you. He can if he wants. Now, where did I see Justin..." He stood up on his tiptoes, craning his head over the crowd, one hand lightly on Nick's shoulder for balance. Nick felt the touch all the way to his toes.

"If it's something that's gonna come back and haunt me, I'd like to know," said Nick, but he was pretty sure he wasn't getting an answer. Not right then, anyway. "He was still near the bathroom, I think." But of course he wasn't sure at all.

"Can you see him?" Joey demanded, looking where Nick was looking. "And no, I don't think it'll be haunting you. Don't worry about it, you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you." He went serious for a minute, looking back into Nick's eyes, close enough for Nick to see the sincerity. "I mean that."

"I can't see anything," admitted Nick, stopping even pretending to look. "No contacts this time. And I just meant ... they like to "talk" to me a lot. It gets tiring. I know you wouldn't, Joey, really." And if he did, Nick was sure Joey would think it was for Nick's own good.

"You didn't wear your contacts? Nick, I tried on your glasses. You must be flying completely blind right now!" He gave Nick's shoulder a reproving shake. "And good. They *should* talk to you a lot, and you should maybe listen. And I have a feeling Howie didn't have any idea how many drinks you'd actually had tonight, did he?" Joey stopped staring at him and resumed scanning the crowd. "Where is that curly-headed little bast-aha!" Joey spotted him, and moved away again.

Nick caught his sleeve before he got away through pure luck. "I can see enough to get around," he protested mildly. "And they don't talk to me about the important things. Well, they do. They just don't do it really well. So where is he?" He looked around but *he* couldn't spot Justin, even though Joey obviously had. He hoped the question of how many drinks he had would get dropped, because it *had* been more than Howie knew, about twice as many, to be exact, but he still didn't think it was enough to *really* worry about.

"I wear glasses too, y'know. And yours were almost strong enough to blind *me*." Joey let him cling as he towed him through the crowd. "Now you won't be able to tell me if the singer for this band meets your exacting hotness standards. Justin promises great things, but I'd like a second opinion. Sometimes he gets a little carried away." Joey was stopped by a tall girl in red, who smiled up at Joey and put her hand on his arm in a way Nick *really* didn't like. Though Joey seemed to be enjoying it, the way he was smiling back. "Nick, this is Gina. Gina, Nick."

Nick nodded at her and didn't smile. Well, he smiled, but not a *real* smile, just the smile that he was used to showing off even when he didn't feel like it. He wanted to put his own hand on Joey's arm, lay a claim on him, but he had no real right to do that, even if this weren't just about the worst place to do it. "They're in my jacket," he told Joey, turning back to look at him a moment later. "My glasses, I mean. So you'll get your opinion."

Joey was still chattering at the girl, but he turned when Nick spoke. "Gina, good to see you, baby. We gotta get moving, though. Call me, ok?" He kissed her cheek, and kept going, talking to Nick like they'd never been interrupted. "That's cool about the glasses. You're cute in 'em, anyway. Makes you look all...'hey, I go to MIT, want me to do some math for you and blow you away with my genius?'" He looked around again. "Goddammit, that kid is as slippery as a fish. Where'd he go *now?*"

"Hope you're not asking *me*," said Nick, finally letting go of him entirely, just following him now. He didn't even look back at Gina, and he noticed that Joey didn't either "I never spotted him in the first place. And the glasses, well, you never know when you're gonna get stuck in a situation where you just really, really need to see, you know? Hey, is that him over there? By that blonde?"

"Uh, no, Nick. That person is also a girl. A tall girl, and the hair's about right, but definitely a girl." Joey laughed. "I'm so gonna tell Justin about that, though." Out of nowhere, JC came flying in and hit Joey head on, not even staggering him, but laughing as he wrapped his arms around Joey's shoulders.

"Joey! I found you! Lance is drooling on some really rich person and Chris made some lady cry and Justin's lost. I had too much coffee. Can we go?"

Joey smiled down at JC and gently pried himself free. "Soon, C. We gotta find Justin first, OK? Say hi to Nick."

JC spun, and his eyes widened as he noticed Nick standing there, seemingly for the first time. "Nick! Oh, man, it's great to see you. I saw Howie before, do you know he's here too? Is Joey kidnapping you? Can you come with us?" Nick was a little startled, standing in the wind-tunnel of JC's enthusiasm. He'd always thought JC was sleepy and quiet.

He blinked a few times before answering, and wished he was in good enough shape to be a little quicker. "I came with Howie," he said finally, surprised JC hadn't already given up on him and left, "but I ditched him for Joey, so you're stuck with me now. Joe, are you sure that was a girl? Seriously?" He squinted in that direction again and shook his head. "Damn."

"Who, girl? What?" JC's head whipped around as Joey laughed, and Nick took another wary half-step back. "Oh my god!" JC started laughing too. "That girl *totally* looks just like Justin. I gotta go find him and tell him. Be here when I get back, or I'll lose you again." He smacked a kiss on Joey's cheek and was gone, and Nick stared after him, and then stared at Joey.

"See?" Joey sounded smug. "Female. Confirmed by neutral third party. You could put your glasses on now, you know." He looked hopeful. "You could see better then. And...um. I like them."

Nick smiled at Joey and hoped he wasn't blushing, hoped that if he *was* that Joey would blame the reddening of his face on the alcohol. "Well, like I said, they're in my jacket, and I checked my jacket when we got here so I'd have to go get it and ... well, we won't be here so much longer that it'll be worth it, I think." He gave Joey a shrug. "They aren't the right ones for a public appearance anyway. So. At least JC agreed that she *did* look just like Justin."

"True. We won't be here long." Joey frowned absently. "I wonder if JC'll have any more luck finding Justin than I did." He checked his watch, then leaned against the wall with a sigh. "Probably better to just wait anyway. C's coming with us, Justin isn't, it'll all work out. 'Specially since I don't really want to see him go diva when JC tells him about that girl. She does kinda look like him, I guess."

"Well, she did to me," said Nick with just a tiny frown, not really meaning to frown at all. "Mostly the hair yeah, but ... oh well. Anyway." Staying right where they were sounded like a very good idea to him; far enough from the bar that he wouldn't be tempted, not moving around so he wouldn't have to remind Joey that he was still far enough gone to stumble. If it weren't for the people circulating with trays of drinks, it'd be perfect. "Probably better that Justin goes diva with JC, yeah ... seems to me like it'd just slide off him. Or he'd forget a few seconds later when he saw a shiny thing."

Joey giggled, and hid his face in his hands, briefly. "Jesus, yes. He's just a butterfly. Justin will get all red and flustered and start going on about his masculinity, and JC'll just look confused and then start playing with a feather or something. He's been such a flake lately, we barely know what to do. Lance runs when he sees him coming. It's pretty funny, really." He looked up at Nick again, still happy and grinning. "You're looking a lot steadier yourself, which is very cool."

Nick nodded, very happy to hear Joey say so even if he wasn't feeling it yet. "That should make for an interesting night," he noted, looking in the direction that JC had disappeared in but of course not seeing him. "Does he sit still on his own or will someone be holding him in their lap?"

"Well, he does like laps," Joey said consideringly. "So it's hard to say. No, he probably won't be sitting still much. But if we get him dancing he'll be fine. He started taking this meditation class, and he's all about being in touch with his inner child or some such thing. Totally changed him, but he seems happy. Wait till you see him on a dance floor. Thing of beauty, man." He scanned the crowd again. "Lance usually keeps him corralled, but you'll get some attention too. He likes you."

"The art thing," said Nick with a nod, still staring at the blurry crowd. "And I dance. So. Yeah, it'll be good." He smiled again and was sure Joey could see, even though Nick wasn't looking at him. "He definitely did seem happy. Maybe he can give me some pointers. So." He turned his head to look at Joey again. "Um. You think there's any chance they serve coffee here?"

Joey laughed again. "I think he thinks you're pretty. You're a special kind of 'shiny thing.'" He shrugged. "He's just giddy at the moment. He's usually a little less...you know. Anyway. Yes. Coffee. I can get you coffee. Wanna come?" He looked inquiringly at Nick as he started towards the bar.

Nick grabbed Joey's sleeve again as he followed. "I guess I don't have much to compare him to, other than a bunch of stuff I've seen that was apparently *not* him at all. It's probably my hair." At Joey's confused look, he touched it self-consciously and added, "You said I was a special kind of shiny thing. It's the hair. Shiny."

Joey grinned. "Your hair's not shiny, it's *silky.* I think he sees what I see." Joey's hand sketched a circle around him. "The whole package. Pretty, shiny, sweet, however you wanna say it." Joey moved forward again, then stopped as Nick's immobility brought him up short. He frowned a little, then his face cleared. "Nick, if you don't wanna go to the bar, I can get it for you..."

"No, I'm coming," he said, taking a step closer to Joey as if to prove it. "Sheesh, Joey, I'm not afraid of the bar or something." He was blushing again and stared at his feet, hoping it would pass quickly and Joey wouldn't see how his words affected Nick. "People usually offer me drinks," he went on, feeling like Joey was waiting for. "But that's not gonna be any different if I just stand here alone anyway. So I'm coming."

"You're just the cutest thing when you blush." Nick wasn't entirely sure he'd heard Joey right, and he'd turned and walked on by the time Nick ventured a look at his face. Joey pushed good-naturedly through the crowd at the bar, using his weight to get him to the front of the line and somehow managing not to annoy anyone too much. Nick marveled. He'd have been on the floor with a black eye if he'd tried that after having a few too many. Joey turned, with two cups of coffee in his hands, but Nick caught the wistful glance he sent at the Sam Adams tap behind the bar.

"Just because I'm trying to sober up doesn't mean you have to suffer with me," Nick said in a low voice as he took a first sip of the strong, black coffee. He didn't look up to see Joey's reaction to that, wasn't sure he wanted to. Especially since the blush hadn't -- quite -- faded yet. "Unless they're both for me."

"Nope." Joey sipped at one, as if demonstrating, then leaned in and whispered to Nick, warm breath tickling his ear. "I plan to suck your tongue right out of your mouth the minute we get into that limo, and it wouldn't really be fair if I tasted like beer, would it?" He pulled back, smirked a little, and sipped again.

"You plan to ... " said Nick uncertainly, his eyes shooting up and an involuntary smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "But the other guys'll be there," he reminded him, taking another sip, wondering if they maybe *knew* already and Joey just hadn't said. "And then they'll want some, too."

"Tough shit," Joey mock-growled, baring his teeth. "I ain't sharing. They can get their own Nicks, or Nicoles, or whatever." He kicked idly at the toe of Nick's shoe with his boot, wincing a little as the too-big swallow of coffee hit his throat. "Fuck, I'm hungry. And there's no food here." He sighed, tried to pout, and then ruined it by laughing at himself. "Feed me, Nick!"

Nick's smile spread into a grin; it was impossible to stay upset or unhappy or anything negative when he was around Joey. Or maybe not impossible, but damn hard.

"Just as soon as we get out of here, I will," he said, but it came out sounding more like like a threat than a promise. "So ... they know?" he added after a moment that was probably only filled with awkward silence in his mind. "About you and me and ... what it's like, with us?"

Joey's eyebrows shot up, though he grinned back. "Well, I have to admit to a little uncertainty about that myself, so no, they probably don't know details. They know I think you're fine, they know I've been talking to you and hanging with you, but anything else...that ain't my secret to tell, since I know you're still pretty quiet about it." He sighed a little, cradled the cup, hiding it completely in huge hands. "We should talk about that. Later. Somewhere quiet. I mean, about what it's like, with us. So at least I know how to introduce you to my mom this weekend."

Nick just stared at him for a moment, processing that. "I think," he said, taking care not to stumble over the words. "I think that I would really like it, if we talked about this later. In private." He sipped the coffee again, not taking his eyes off Joey. "Cause I don't really know either, and ... yeah, maybe we should figure that out."

"Probably." Joey shifted a little uncomfortably, seemed like, and glanced around as if a change of subject would fly out of the crowd like JC and save him. "But we can do that later. We've got a buch of dancing and...dancing to do first." Something caught his eye over Nick's shoulder and he smiled. "Looks like Lance found Howie. We may have to pry them off each other. Did I tell you Lance wants to open a club? Fuck, now we'll NEVER get out of here."

"I like you," Nick blurted out, looking over each of his shoulders to see if anyone was watching them. Or listening to them. It wasn't a revelation or anything, Joey already *knew* that. But still. It was something. "Yeah. Um. Tell Lance I'll give him Howie's cell phone number if you need to. He'll be able to reach him any time. Howie hates to get it changed."

"I like you too," Joey said easily, smiling, touching his waist briefly and secretly. "A lot. But this is really not the place. Shh, Nicky. And you can tell Lance yourself. He's waving now, guess Howie fled and we're rollin'. You need anything before we go?" Joey put his cup back down on the bar. "You gotta tell Howie where you'll be? I can grab Lance, we can wait. We're probably going to have to round up JC anyway, and I do mean that literally."

Nick gave him a grin and tried not to be shy about it. He wasn't exactly shy by nature. "No, I can just go," he said. "We already told Howie I'm leaving with you guys, he won't worry. Well, he will, but mostly about whether or not I'm gonna get myself into trouble or not. What *did* you tell him, anyway?" He finished off his own cooling coffee and set the cup down next to Joey's.

"Still not telling you," Joey sing-songed. "And I'm not teasing you, really. It was just a private thing." He grabbed Nick with an arm around his shoulder, a pose Nick remembered from a hundred photos of N Sync, Joey always hugging someone. It felt special this time, though. "C'mon. Let's go find JC. Or, here's a better idea, you just stand there and sparkle, and JC will come to *us*" Joey smiled into his eyes, just the right height.

Nick had to laugh and let Joey hold his gaze, even though he was a bit taken aback by Joey saying the comment had been a private thing, considering it had been about *him*. It was even funnier when, a couple moments later, JC *did* in fact come bounding back up to him.

"Wow, did you know that Justin *really* doesn't like being called a girl?" he said. "Oh, sorry, I'm interrupting. I can go find Lance. I have something to show him anyway."

"I'll bet you do." Joey stuck out a long arm and snagged the back of JC's collar easily before he could get more than a few hops away. "Settle, C. Stay with us for a second, hmmm?" He grinned sideways at Nick. "Look at how good Nick looks tonight. Doesn't he look good? Why don't you tell us about Justin?" He was easing JC towards the door, and Lance, with his body as he talked. "Nick wants to dance with you, you know. When we get to the club. He thinks you're high-energy." He winked at Nick.

Nick had to admire just how skillfully Joey handled that, herding them all out of the bar. "Right," he agreed, giving JC a bright smile. "Totally looking forward to it. Love dancing. If you'll excuse me for a sec?" It wasn't that he wanted to get away from them -- well, not entirely -- but the evening was getting a little overwhelming and he wasn't quite sober yet. He wasn't sure if he would be more or less overwhelmed when he was. "Just need to grab my jacket before we go."

Joey shot him a concerned look, but had his hands full with JC, who was practically quivering with excitement now that they were at the door. Nick shook his head, wondering exactly what had happened to JC to turn him into this strange, pretty, flighty thing that he barely recognized. He didn't buy the meditation story for a moment. And Joey really seemed comfortable with him. With all of them, really. Nick grabbed his jacket, tipped the man, and fingered the glasses in his pocket with a sigh. Joey liked him with his glasses on. He felt himself smiling almost against his will.

"We ready?" he said as he came back out to meet them, taking in the soft fuzziness of his surroundings one last time before slipping his glasses on and letting the world come into sharp focus again. "Whoa," he muttered, staring down at people's legs for a moment. "Let there be light." Then he lifted his head to catch Joey's eye. "So? Are we?" he repeated ."Ready?"

"We are," Joey said, giving him an appreciative once-over. Lance was standing by the waiting black limousine, looking impatient and businesslike, and JC had apparently settled down. "Let's go dancing, baby. And I don't think they'll mind if we sit in the back." He put a hand on Nick's back, above his belt, gently urging him towards the door.

Nick let himself be led along, knowing he was kinda just along for the ride, this time. He wasn't at all sure what to expect from Joey -- even though he could see his expressions clearly now, they weren't any easier for him to read. "Where's you say this place was again?" he asked, loud enough so that all of them could hear him and maybe would start up a conversation so he didn't have to feel like all the attention was on him. The thought occurred to him that he could really, really use a drink, right about then.

"South side," Lance tossed at him as he slid into the seat of the limo, staring at him a little curiously as their knees almost bumped until he settled himself. "Hey, Nick. Didn't know you were coming along." Joey slammed the door and stretched his legs out, pushing JC's feet out of the way. Lance looked at him inquiringly. "He's coming along." Joey smiled at Nick, then at Lance. "It'll be a good time."

"Yeah, I've been kidnapped," said Nick, unsure of how he was supposed to behave around Joey with the other guys there, unsure even of what *he* would be comfortable with. "I bet they'll pay good money for my safe return. I'm a Backstreet Boy, you know." Then he gave them a cocky grin, one he *couldn't* give Joey anymore without meaning it, and leaned back in his seat.

Lance grinned at him, all sharp white teeth, and Nick figured he knew about cocky. "Cool. I'll send Kevin the ransom note in the morning." His eyes almost glazed, and Nick chuckled, imagining what vile things he was imagining putting in the note. Lance and Kevin had what they called 'differences' and what AJ called 'virulent fucking hatred,' which was always good for a laugh. Joey bumped his leg up against Nick's then, though, jolting him out of his thoughts. He couldn't keep thinking about Kevin when Joey licked his lips like that, or when Joey leaned against him like that, or when he could feel JC's curious eyes on them and it didn't seem to matter.

He turned his head toward Joey and all but leaned in for a kiss, only stopping himself at the last second. It just felt so natural, to do it. "Actually, scrap that," he said suddenly, breaking the moment and turning back to Lance again. "I'm not exactly Kevin's favorite person right now. He'd probably say to keep me and tell you *you* can post bail next time." It was self-depricating, but in a disarming way, not a pathetic way. He hoped.

Joey groaned, smiling, and Lance laughed and JC leaned forward earnestly. "Oh, no, Nick. I'm sure he'll pay your ransom. I mean, sure, he's kind of surly sometimes, but he was all good about it, you even said so on TRL. And Joey won't let you get arrested again anyway. He's good about stuff like that, like the time when Justin got caught with a hookmmmmph." Joey had clapped a hand over JC's mouth, and was he *blushing?*

"Enough, JC. I swear to god, I'm getting you a gag."

Nick had to laugh, though, even though it was probably at least a *little* inappropriate. At least Lance was laughing with him. "Let him talk," he said, poking Joey's side and sneaking in a little caress while he was there. "I'm likely to find out all *sorts* of fascinating things." Which, of course, was exactly what Joey was worried about, he knew. "Don't worry," he added, covering his ass in case they were actually worried. "I know how to keep my mouth shut outside this car."

"I am NOT letting JC tell that story," Joey said firmly, though he dropped his hand from JC's mouth with a warning glance. JC stuck his tongue out at Joey. Lance laughed harder. "I'm not worried, but there are some things that just don't need to be known. EVER." This time he shot the glare at Lance, who was practically hiccuping. He leaned back into Nick, though, heavy and warm, and looked at him sideways through long dark eyelashes. He'd never thought of Joey as pretty, really, or even particularly handsome, but wow. Those eyes. "Distract him with art talk, Nick," Joey murmured, and slid a secret hand onto his back, where no one else could see.

Nick shot him a look and wondered why *he* had to do the work here. He was the one who still wanted to hear the story; it was always good to get the dirt on Timberlake. "So," he said, looking at JC, then Lance, then JC again. Lance was still laughing silently and JC was staring at him with big, expectant eyes. It was unsettling. "Right." A moment later he looked back to Joey again for help.

"C'mon. Post-impressionist art and architecture. Renaissance sculpture. Chiaroscuro." Joey's lips curled up in a little smile. "Talk amongst yourselves." His fingers burrowed under the hem of Nick's shirt, and Nick could feel the flex and play of muscles in his arm as they moved. Hot soft fingertips on his skin, finally, and he only just caught himself before arching into the feeling. "You don't mind, do you, Lance? We can talk about Ray, that singer we're seeing tonight. I think Justin has a crush."

When Nick opened his lips he let out a soft breathy "oh", though, and hoped that no one heard. He laughed nervously and looked up at JC. "Did Joey tell you about my art stuff?" he asked, knowing that Joey *had* but it seemed like a good opening for the conversation. And covered any further noises his body might have been considering making as Joey gently touched him. "About my class?" Lance just snorted before JC could answer, though, and Nick turned his attention to him.

"Joey," Lance said deliberately, though not unkindly, "hasn't shut up about your damn class. What, you think he knew the word 'chiaroscuro' before this week?" Joey kicked him, Lance yelped, and JC's hands fluttered as he jumped into the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah. That's so amazing! And you paint, too, he said? What style? I paint, you know, and the guys say they like my pictures but I think they're just being nice because they are. Nice. What are you interested in? What kind of musems do you like?" He looked eager, and Nick glared at Joey, who, even though he was growling at Lance, hadn't moved his hand.

Nick's mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times before he could even think about starting to answer. "I'd like to see your paintings sometime," he said, and forced a smile back to his face. A smile that became *less* forced the longer he held it, finding he genuinely liked these guys. "I'm mostly experimental. Self taught. Um. I like doing stuff with watercolors but I don't think it's what I'm best at. I think that's maybe why I'm studying art history now, to get a better sense of different styles and how they evolved and ... I'm boring everyone." He let his eyes shoot back to Joey, curiousity in them now. "I thought you said you couldn't read the book, the time you were over?" he said, very softly.

"I may have caught a word or two," Joey murmured, as JC shouted "not bored! Not! HE wants to see my paintings!" and Lance thumped him in the head and told him sternly to chill. "After all, something you're that excited about...it must be pretty cool."

JC stopped batting at Lance and looked at Joey, wide-eyed. "That's not what you said when I wanted to go to the Met and you wanted to go to Yankee Stadium and then Little Italy and then Brooklyn."

Joey opened his mouth, a flush high on his cheeks and not looking at Nick, and the limo lurched to a stop and the driver tapped on the glass. Nick peeked out the window and saw a dim sign for 'Down Under.'

"I guess this would be it," he said with a smile he hoped they all couldn't immediately peg as relieved. "We'll have to continue this conversation later, I guess. He didn't move though, not wanting to expose how Joey was touching him and still wanting to bask in the implicit flattery. He hadn't realized what Joey had been doing, all because of him, and he felt *himself* starting to blush, too.

"Yeah, this is it," said Lance, looking out the window and patting his pockets to make sure he had everything. He gave both Joey and Nick a look, then shook his head, looking more than a little amused.

"Out, out, they're turning all pink and cute," JC urged, and almost pushed Lance out the door as soon as it opened.

Joey rolled his eyes at them, then grinned at Nick, though his cheeks were still definitely pink. "Damn. OK. Last time I go *anywhere* with them. Ever. Fuckers. However," he leaned closer, "I seem to remember," and his mouth was right there, "something about something..." he was kissing Nick, hard and hot and sucking at his tongue, just like he'd promised, and his hand was flat against Nick's spine, pulling him closer, and then it was over, and Joey backed away. Panting a little. "We gotta go, they're waiting..." He scrambled for the door.

"Fucker," breathed Nick behind him, adjusting his clothes so his reaction to the kiss wasn't quite as obvious. It was a futile effort. Besides which, Lance and JC had been just outside the door and probably hadn't missed a moment of it. 'Okay, fine, let's go, I'm right behind you." Of course Joey was already most of the way out of the car by then and Nick was trailing behind.

Lance smirked at him sideways as he slipped out the door, slamming it behind them. JC was already walking ahead, dancing a little to the music spilling out the club door, towing a laughing Joey. "C'mon, Nick. Joe's got JC well in hand, I'll buy you a drink and you can tell me about...art." The smirk got wider, but it wasn't mean, just vastly amused.

Nick had to laugh a little, then sighed and followed. "Sounds like a plan," he said, wondering if one drink was gonna hurt. He looked up ahead, at JC and Joey who were out of earshot even, now. "So. Um. We're pretty busted, huh?" he commented, willing the color away from his cheeks before they got inside. He could do it, when he had to.

"Oh, very, yes," Lance assured him, waving a casual hand at the doorman as they walked inside. "Your name's been dropped in all kinds of conversations recently. We were beginning to wonder if Joey could complete a sentence without mentioning you. And you may be many things, Carter, but subtle ain't one of them." He unbuttoned his coat and balanced on a barstool, precariously, it looked like, and raised a hand for the bartender. "I should probably be asking Joey this, but. So. What's up with you two? And what're you having?"

"Screwdriver," said Nick without even thinking about it, perching next to him. "As for what's up?" He shrugged and scanned the room for Joey; when he didn't see him, he took his glasses off and slipped them back into the case in his pocket, letting the room blur in front of him. "I'll let you know when I do, I guess

"Uh-huh." Lance nodded and ordered their drinks, slapping a $20 down on the bar. "Typical Joey. He probably hasn't figured it out either. Don't let him coddle you too much, ok? I think Brianna's warped his brain or something. He's all...fathery." He handed Nick a glass, sipping at his own martini happily. "I think he really likes you, though."

Nick wrapped his hand around the glass but didn't start drinking yet. "I probably need a little ... looking out for," he admitted, knowing that was nothing Lance didn't already know. His recent 'adventure' had probably only confirmed it. "But yeah. I. He really likes me?" He definitely hadn't meant for *that* to slip out the way it did, making him sound like a thirteen-year-old girl or something.

"That's ok," Lance chuckled. "Joey loves nothing more than having someone to look out for. He, like, lives for it. Just don't let him get too overbearing. And yeah, he likes you. Freak. What, you couldn't tell? He was practically humping you in front of JC. Speaking of." He looked around again. "Where the hell did they get to, anyway?"

Nick shrugged again, wishing Joey was there. "Unless they show up under my nose, I'm not gonna see them," he admitted. "I wasn't having much luck anyway, maybe you'll do better. You been here before?" He carefully avoided the topic of how much Joey was into him, knowing damn well that he'd probably say something else to embarrass himself.

"Well, put your glasses back on then, geez." Lance's voice was impatient. "Do you actually *like* not being able to see, or is it totally an image thing? Because I gotta tell you, you actually look just as good with them on. Also, then you could help me find the strays. Joey's probably chasing JC around the back rooms by now. Yeah, I've been here a bunch. I"m trying to branch out from country with FreeLance, and this is the best place to find unsigned talent."

Nick nodded at him for a moment. "Seems like a nice place," he said. "And no, it's not just an image thing or whatever. When I'm in a club I just ... don't, a lot. I just kinda let everything blur together, around me, taking in the atmosphere. And I break fewer pairs that way, on the dancefloor." He snorted and got them back out, though. "Not sure how much help I'll be, but I'll look."

"What, you don't have Joey-radar yet?" Lance asked absently, scanning the crowd and taking a bigger sip of his drink. "I wouldn't worry about the dance floor too much at the moment, it's gonna be a while until they start." He turned a curious gaze back to Nick. "It would freak me out, I think, not knowing if someone was, like, staring at me or something. Or being able to tell if the chick across the room was hot. I like knowing what's going on around me."

"Someone's always staring at me," said Nick with a shrug as he slipped the glasses on. He still didn't see Joey, and sadly *hadn't* developed some sort of 'Joey radar' yet, though he had the notion the best place to find him would probably be the bathroom. "Sometimes it's just really nice not to know, to be able to pretend that I'm part of the blur."

"I was a blur for way too long," Lance said offhandedly, and then his eyes sharpened over Nick's shoulder. "There they are. Fuck. I wish Joey would stop carrying JC around like that. They're gonna start rumors. It's bad enough trying to keep JC quiet in interviews these days..." He snorted, and Nick turned, and Joey was wading through the crowd toward them, JC slung over one shoulder and giggling. They *were* getting some startled looks.

"Does he always do that?" asked Nick, trying to sound just as offhand even though his guts were clenching in what he recognized was jealousy. "Do *they* always do that?" They certainly looked comfortable, comfortable enough that he found himself turning to look at Lance again. He hadn't missed what Lance had said, he just didn't know what it would have been like, to not have been the center of attention no matter where he went or what he did.

Lance turned back to him, smiling a little. "Well, JC's clingy, and Joey's the world's best, um, cling-ee. Thing to be clung to. Whatever. Joe's a cuddler from 'way back." He sighed as Joey stomped up to them, apparently barely noticing JC's weight. "Put him down, Joey. We're in public. And repeat after me, 'JC is not my playtoy.' Anyway, you're neglecting Nick."

"No, it's okay, I'll be his playtoy," said JC breathily. "We can go to the other side of the room so you don't have to watch and be a spoilsport except, oh, Nick, we should be here, right."

Once again, Nick had to just stare at him for a moment and take that in. "Hey, Joe," he said finally and smiled at him.

"Hey Nick." Joey smiled back, and swung JC down from his shoulder easily, steadying him on his feet before moving away. "Go teach that boring Lance how to have fun, 'kay, JC?" He patted him fondly on the hip, pushing him towards Lance. "Sorry Nick, didn't mean to disappear like that, I was just-" His eyes fell on Nick's glass, and his face stilled. "Oh."

Nick's eyes followed his and he bit his lip, realizing what he'd done. "It's not what it looks like ... " he began, but he couldn't finish because it *was* kinda what it looked like. "I didn't have any." Then he looked down at his lap and fell silent. Any other time he would have just *had* it and not cared -- it was only one damn drink -- but Joey looked so ... so disappointed. Or worse.

"What?" said Lance, staring at them as JC tugged on his arm. "Get your own drink, Fatone, you cheap bastard, and leave poor Nick's alone."

"You know, Lance, I think I'll do that." Joey pushed in between Nick and Lance at the bar, and waved the bartender over. "Heineken and two Cuervo shots," he said, then held up his hand. "Hold up. Lance, you want one too?" His face seemed carefully neutral as he caught Lance's nod. "Make that three. C, you don't get one, you know what happens when you drink tequila." Joey spaced the shots on the bar, one in front of Nick, one in front of Lance, one in his own hand. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Ladies? Shall we have a toast?" Lance was looking at Joey carefully, and JC, clearly some kind of emotional barometer here, was shifting from foot to foot, uneasily. Before anyone could say anything, JC grabbed Lance by the arm and pulled him off the stool.

"Gotta go to the bathroom and Lance has to come too. We'll come back soon." He hurried away, still towing Lance.

"Joey," said Nick, his voice shaky. He didn't know whether to stop this now, or to just drink the damn shot, and the vodka, and maybe even Joey's fucking Heineken, too. He wasn't ready to handle this, he didn't know how, he didn't know what to do. "Joey, I made a mistake. I'm sorry." It was all he *could* say; if that didn't work, well, he'd just keep the drinks coming.

"Nick, don't apologize to me." Joey's voice was even, his eyes steady. "It's your decision to drink, or not, and it really doesn't have anything to do with me. I ain't your babysitter, and I sure as hell ain't your dad, and you're a big boy, so it's your call." He gestured at the shot, sitting so temptingly on the bar. "You can shoot that down, and finish your drink, and probably have Lance's too, or you can come dance with me." He stood still, shot in hand, waiting for Nick's decision calmly.

Nick bounced his knee up and down and stared at it, not at Joey; it was a harder decision than it should have been. "Joey ... " he said again, weakly. "Joey ... I'm *trying*." Then he slowly, almost *painfully*, slid off the stool and stood up next to him. "I'm *trying* and I know you're not my babysitter but if I'm gonna do this ... maybe I do need you help." Then he took his glasses off and slid them back into his pocket. "Okay, I'm ready," he said. "Leave the drinks for Lance."

Joey's smile lit up the whole bar, and Nick felt lighter immediately, especially when Joey didn't say a word, just wrapped an arm around his waist, setting his own shot onto the bar untouched, and pulled him into a hug. Nick almost melted straight to the floor then and there, feeling Joey just surround him, all big and warm and comforting and sexy. "I'm so happy you said that," Joey mumbled into his neck. "I really really wanna dance with you."

"The way I want to dance with you I can't do in public," Nick dared to say under his breath as he wrapped his own arms around Joey and held on and didn't even care what it looked like. He was part of the blur. "I *am* sorry, Joey. I said I wouldn't and then ... it was just so easy. You wanna ... can you ... ?" He felt stupid asking, but he didn't think he was gonna get through this night if he didn't. "Can you ask them not to offer?"

"Yeah," Joey breathed, cuddling him closer. "I'll ask. And they'll be good about it, you don't have to worry. And you...you should not say things like that when you know we're gonna be here for a while and there's no bed here. Because fuck, Nick. I just wanna..." He moved his hips a little, a shift of weight to anyone watching, but it rubbed his whole pelvis against Nick and Nick could feel him, hard, against his groin. He gasped a little at the sensation, then heard a hiss at his shoulder, and glanced down into narrowed green eyes.

"Guys," Lance whispered, thin and tight, "can we maybe break up the inter-band lovefest before someone gets pictures? For fuck's sake, Joey, it's a good thing you have a kid."

Nick flushed as he pulled away, staring at his feet for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. Joey didn't even let go, entirely, leaving a comforting hand on Nick's back. He was *so* fucking turned on now, and Joey was right -- it was gonna be tough, lasting the night without doing anything inappropriate, but it might be pretty interesting, too. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent a night out completely sober, or with people he genuinely liked.

"Reeeeee-laaaaax, Lance!" Joey was laughing again. "Man, you get so worked up. Like anyone in here could give a shit!" Lance growled at him, still glaring, but Joey just grinned. "Go away. Go find the band, they're supposed to go on any minute. I promise, no dry humping in public." Lance snorted and turned away, but then Joey caught his elbow. "Oh, one more thing. Don't buy Nick any more drinks, 'kay? He's trying to quit." Lance's head whipped around, and he stared at Nick with suddenly wide, enquiring eyes.

"Yeah?"

Nick coughed, embarassed, and nodded his head, really wishing Joey had chosen to do that when he wasn't around. "Yeah," he said, staring at his feet again for a moment, then looking up to face whatever was in Lance's eyes. "Trying, yeah."

Lance appraised him for a second, then his face crinkled up in the most genuine smile Nick had ever seen from him. He smacked a friendly hand to Nick's shoulder. "That's so great, man! Good for you. Never thought I'd say this, but maybe AJ's a good influence, for once in his life." He turned an accusing look on Joey. "You shoulda told me, man, so I didn't buy him a drink like an asshole." At Joey's shrug, he turned again. "OK, I gotta go find JC before he finds someone wearing glitter and we lose him forever. Be good, you two." He melted back into the crowd.

"Well, that didn't go so bad," he said, giving Joey a wry smile once he lost sight of Lance. Joey's hand was still on his back, drawing him closer again. "Um ... maybe I've been totally blind and *stupid* but do I really have that kind of, you know, reputation? That I'd need to do this, to stop?"

Joey leaned comfortably back against the bar, drawing Nick with him until he was almost leaning on him. "Well, just a little. Lately. It's hard to keep a secret in our world, you know that, and it's not like you were drinking quietly in your house. Which I'm glad of, because that's way worse. And you were really drinking kind of a lot. Are."

"I was just having fun," said Nick with a tiny shrug, but he knew it was unconvincingly. "Doesn't everyone? I guess ... fuck." He laughed, but at himself, and bitterly. "I guess I should've been listening to AJ and his therapist all along, huh? Acting out, looking for attention ... just fuck. So what now?"

"Now," Joey said, sliding the hand on Nick's back up to his shoulderblade soothingly, "you've got my attention, at least. Lots of it. So you don't really need to act out any more, huh?" He smiled. "Now that you've got it, what're you gonna do with it?"

Nick sighed and smiled back at him. "At the moment? Not half of what I want to." He wished he could reach out, touch back, do the things to him that he'd been thinking about in the back of his head, but now that he finally felt like he *could* ... he couldn't. Not here. "You gonna come home with me after?"

"Yep." Joey nodded enthusiastically, grinning. "I was planning on it." He leaned in, as if confiding a secret. "I've missed the pajamas," he whispered conspiratorially. "You were all soft and cute and cuddly in 'em. And then with the glasses...you coulda been an extra in that Howie Potter movie. Only big, of course." He blinked. "I mean Harry! Harry Potter!"

Nick burst out laughing. "Oh man, oh man, good thing Howie didn't hear you calling it that!" He slumped back against the bar and shook his head. "And I would not have fit in, man, my glasses aren't all owlish or something. And I'm not *that* cute, not even in the pajamas. And -- " He turned his head, smiled at Joey again, nervously. "Is it time for us to have that talk yet?"

"Man, you *are* that cute. Even without the pajamas." Joey didn't exactly withdraw, but he straightened up out of his slouch, a bit. "You think?" He glanced around at the bar doubtfully. "But we're kind of in public. I mean, what if I want to sweep you off your feet and kiss you senseless at some point? Or beat my head in hopeless despair? Or, like, give you a mindblowing blowjob? We can't really do that here. And don't talks like that talk usually involve stuff like that?"

Nick gaped at him for a moment and trying to not react to that the way his instincts were telling him to, which was to jump Joey right then and there. He had more self-control than *that* at least. "So, okay," he said finally, licking his lips and feeling very, very, completely sober. "We wait, on The Talk. We can still ... talk. And dance when the band comes out. And just ... not ditch JC and Lance, I guess."

"Because that would be bad." Joey's eyes followed Nick's tongue, and his voice was suddenly gravelly. "Bad. And unfriendly, because I promised Lance I would stay. And watch the band. So maybe we should...dance. Yeah. Maybe you should dance with Lance or JC some, too, and maybe with that girl who's staring at us, because otherwise I'm gonna want to do fun dirty things to you that we can't do and that sucks. Yeah." He took a deep breath, and blew it out loudly.

"Yeah," agreed Nick, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him. "I, um, can't see people watching us. And if I can't see them ... I start to pretend they're not there ... " At the moment, that could turn out to be a very bad thing, but it felt so good. "Fuck, Joey. Okay. We need to ... do something. Yeah." And getting away from the bar would probably help him, too.

"Yeah." Joey didn't seem to be listening to him much, and his eyes looked...hungry. The hand still on his back was moving, sliding around to his side, hidden by the bar and their bodies, palm cupping his hip. "Yeah, we should do...something. Probably now would be good. Because Lance will kill me deader than dead if we don't, and then I won't get to..." his voice trailed off and he licked his lips, eyes still fixed on Nick's. "Do. Stuff. Yeah."

"We need to leave," Nick blurted out, trying not to gasp. "Like. Now. Limo ... bathroom ... back alley ... I don't *care*." He couldn't tear his eyes away, didn't want to look at anything but Joey. If they didn't do something about this, and *soon*, neither of them were gonna make it to the end of the night.

"Nicky..." Joey's voice was almost a moan, and his eyes fluttered closed, then snapped open. There was a flush high on his cheeks, but Nick didn't think he was embarrassed. "Limo left. Bathroom's small. There is no back alley." He pulled his hand back like Nick's hip was burning him, shoved his hands into his pockets, and bit his lip, worrying it with white teeth. "We gotta...we gotta dance. For a little while. And then we can go, we can leave, fuck what Lance says."

Nick gave him a jerky nod and bit back his sigh. It was probably good, that they had to do this, that they might have a chance to cool down a little so they could talk before they ... did whatever they were going to do. "Okay," he got out finally, and hoped he didn't look as turned on as he felt. "Let's dance, then."

Joey sighed, looking pathetically disappointed. "And I can't even dance with you. Don't go out there and look too good, or I won't be held accountable for my actions. Fuck, what am I talking about, you *already* look too good." He ran a hand through his hair, and pushed away from the bar. "They're tuning up," he said, looking towards the stage. "We should go find JC and Lance. JC'll dance with you, that'll be a distraction. And I'll dance with Lance, and that'll REALLY be a distraction, because Lance can't dance. OK. We have a plan."

"A good plan," said Nick with a shaky grin. "Let's go dance with the *other* guys, so they won't think we're together." But it probably *was* good, because JC would abandon him for the first person who shimmered by in something bright, and Lance didn't seem like the touchy type to begin with, and Nick himself was bound to be surrounded by women the moment he hit the dancefloor. That wasn't ego, it was just fact.

"Let's go, then." Joey squared his shoulders, and his smile looked almost natural, though when he took his first step he winced, a little. Nick sympathized. He wished he'd worn pants that were maybe just a little baggier, as he wandered after Joey, eyes pinned on the soft short hair at the nape of Joey's neck. He wanted to lick him right there...and yanked his mind back. Joey slowed down as the crowd got thicker near the stage, and Nick spotted JC and Lance standing off to the side, JC leaning on Lance, Lance talking to a very, very, very goodlooking boy, maybe nineteen, who was gesturing and looking earnest. Joey turned his head and rolled his eyes at Nick, grinning. "Guess Justin wasn't blinded by lust after all," he said over the sound of the crowd.

Nick whistled, low. "Guess not," he had to agree, watching the interaction. "Kid's straight, though. Well, he might bend a little for Timberlake. But not bend *over*, if you know what I mean." He couldn't help but touch Joey, just briefly on his back. Here, in the midst of all these people, it was just a normal act.

"Oh, you know him?" Joey leaned into his hand, slowing his pace towards the others. "And bend how far? Justin didn't shut up about him for hours, which is why we're here. I've seen straighter than straight bend over, figuratively of course, for Jup. He's got a way with him." Joey pulled away from Nick as they came up and JC launched himself at Joey again.

"Joey and Nick! Are you guys ok? Is everything ok? Lance wouldn't say, and now he's talking to Adam and ignoring me. But they're starting soon. Are you guys gonna dance?" He looked at Nick.

Nick gave him a grin, a genuine one. "Things are good," he promised him, responding to JC's obvious, real concern. "Better than good. Very good even. So you gonna dance with me, JC? Like you said, band's gonna start soon." He looked over at Joey, wondered if he was going to tell JC what Lance obviously hadn't. But Lance had been the one Nick had been more worried about anyway.

JC grinned bright as daylight and bounced. "Yes I'm gonna dance with you! Lance can't dance," Nick wondered briefly if he'd be hearing that all night, if Lance ever got sick of it, and if they kept saying it because it rhymed so well, "and Joey dances all grindy when he's not being hammy. Which is nice, but bad in public, Lance says."

"Yes, bad in public, which is why Nick's gonna dance with you, and I'm gonna be with No-dance Lance, here." Joey grinned at Lance, who shot him a frustrated look before shaking hands with Adam and sending him off to the stage. Joey's fingers brushed Nick's wrist lightly, and Nick shivered.

"No," mouthed Lance, shaking his head at the both of them, but he looked like he was almost -- *almost* -- smiling. Which made the restricting just a little bit better. Nick's fingers very deliberately ran over Joey's thigh as he turned to JC again.

"I get a little grindy, too," Nick warned him with a grin, rotating his hips, "but I'll control myself. You're gonna have to lead me out there, though, cause I can't see a thing."

"He took his glasses off again," Joey commented unnecessarily, as JC whooped at Nick and started pulling him towards the front of the crowd. Nick laughed over his shoulder at Joey, who waved the tips of his fingers at him, and mouthed "have fun!" before following with Lance. JC turned in the crowd suddenly and started moving, hands graceful and hips doing impossible things. Joey was a big dark blur behind him, Lance a paler blur by Joey, and the music started for real with a downbeat he could feel, and suddenly it was all just a press of bodies and music and motion.

JC was hard to move with, so Nick settled for just being there with him, watching the flow of his body as they both did their own thing to the beat of the music. Nick didn't think he would *ever* be able to move quite like that, but that was okay because it was so amazing to just watch and be near and it *was* taking his mind off Joey, a little, though he knew that couldn't last. He didn't try to say anything, just smiled when JC looked at him and maintained just a bare awareness of the other bodies dancing around him, trying to dance *with* him.

And even though he could still see Joey's shape, see him *right there*, the fact that he couldn't touch him made it feel like he was so far away.

He was getting hot, now, feeling the excercise sweat more of the alcohol out of his system and loosen him up. He swayed a little closer to JC, determined to enjoy himself, and JC wiggled into his space, grinning and glowing with sweat under the lights, brushing up against him with every move. Nick laughed, suddenly. He *was* having a good time, the music was great, and JC was an amazing dancer, and whoa, someone behind him was getting a little too friendly. He lurched away from the groping hand, shoving JC into Joey, and Joey spun around, looking concerned. "You ok?" Nick barely heard it over the music, and JC was pressed between him and Joey looking very small, and Joey reached over JC's shoulder to touch his arm.

Nick looked up at him and nodded a little, then looked back over his shoulder but he couldn't make out much, not who it was certainly. Not that it really mattered -- he was used to being pawed, he was just a little jumpy, he guessed. When he turned back he smiled at Joey, and kept smiling even as Joey reluctanly pulled his hand away again. The touch had been enough to give him his Joey fix for another few minutes.

Joey didn't move away though, staying close enough behind JC for Nick to be able to see him almost clearly. Joey was moving with the beat, head bobbing, grinning, arm still draped over JC's shoulder and hand dangling in the air. JC threw his head back against Joey's shoulder and shimmied his hips and pulled Nick in closer with a randomly timed grab of his hand. Nick stomped his feet and shook his ass and grinned back at Joey, feeling it all over his face, all over his body.

He guessed that Lance was probably glaring at him, probably scanning the room for flashbulbs and trying to shield the three of them with his body. But Nick didn't care, didn't feel like that mattered. All they were doing was having fun, and where was the harm in that? They hardly looked different than anyone else in the place, he was sure.

"They really *are* good," he said aloud, unsure if anyone could hear. And that didn't matter either.

"Yeah," rumbled by his ear, and oh, hi, Lance, there you are. He wasn't glaring; in fact, he was laughing too, and doing something that might have been called dancing, if one were feeling particularly generous. Nick grinned. He didn't care, Lance looked happy. Joey looked happy. JC was just blissed out, and Nick was riding the wave. He bumped against Joey's hand until it curled around his shoulder, slid up to his neck, palm broad and hot and a little slippery, still keeping JC safely between them. He was glad he couldn't see Joey's eyes clearly.

And JC just kept moving, pressed up against one of them and then the other, completely indiscriminantly it seemed. The crowd pulsed around them, energized by the music, energized by their proximity to a bunch of pop stars, heightening the experience rather than detracting from it. It was better than drinking. It was better than almost anything. Nick thought maybe the only thing better would be if he and Joey were alone together somewhere, finally able to follow through on what had been building between them all evening.

The song changed, and Nick's eyes went involuntarily to the stage. That guy was leaning on the mic stand, panting, then opening his mouth and the beat hit down into something raunchy and low. JC's eyes widened, and he sidled out of the way, bumping into Lance and then starting to sway again, caught in the music. Nick stared at Joey, torn. This was sex music. This was the kind of music that made him want to remove his clothing. Joey stepped closer, and from the look on his face, he was thinking the same thing. Nick leaned forward, Joey's eyes closed, and a firm palm hit Nick in the chest, hard enough to jolt.

"No," Lance said firmly. "Not here, not now, no way. You two..." He still wasn't glaring, but his mouth was tight. "You two had better get out of here. No, Joey, go. Seriously. C'll stay with me, I'll be fine. You're a danger to yourself and others, right now."

Half of Nick wanted to cling to Joey right then and there, let the music encourage them to do just exactly what they wanted to do. The other half wanted to grab his hand and *run* from the bar, not stopping until they were home and safe and together. He knew that Lance was going to make them do something in between.

"Sign them," he said to Lance, letting out a sigh as he nodded to the stage. Then he reached for Joey and hoped *that* wasn't gong to be taken as too much.

Joey clutched his hand like he was going to vanish, then dropped a quick kiss on Lance's cheek, JC's mouth, and pushed Nick out of the crowd with his body. "Fuck." His voice was right there in Nick's ear, audible even over the thrum of the synthesizer, the booming bass. "Fuck, only lasted three songs. Goddammit, Carter." They broke into a clear patch, and Joey drew back a little, not pressed all up against Nick's back any more as they walked. Joey yanked a cellphone out of his pocket and pressed one key, spoke into it and hung it up. "Limo," he tossed at Nick. "We need a car. Where are we going?" They'd made it almost to the door, now.

"Home," said Nick immediately. "Yours, or mine. Whatever. And three ... is better than one, right?" He brushed his body against Joey's deliberately, not seeing anything but him. "We need to talk, and then we need to ... what we were about to do. Yeah."

Joey hissed, actually hissed, and stumbled a little as he pushed the door open, letting the cool fresh air wash over them. "Who's closer? You. OK, your house." He carefully didn't come too close to Nick as they walked to the limo, aware of the line that had formed outside the door and all the curious eyes. Someone large held the door open; Nick barely noticed them, focused entirely on the dark, quiet, *private* interior of the car. He tumbled in after Joey, the door slammed shut, and they were alone.

Nick heaved a few deep breaths to keep himself under control so they *could* talk before things got too far, but he'd been waiting too long for this. Grasping at Joey, he allowed himself a kiss -- a long, slow, deep kiss -- before the car even started pulling away.

"We'll make it up to them," he murmured against Joey's lips.

Joey's hand fisted in Nick's jacket, and he hauled Nick across his legs, laying him sprawled on the seat and Joey's lap and never letting their lips part. Nick's breath hitched in his throat, a little broken sound, as he sucked Joey's tongue and felt the scrape of beard against his chin and Joey's hands roaming around his body. "Nick, Jesus." Joey was breathless too. "Fuck. We'll make it up to them. Just, I can't...." He stopped talking when Nick kissed him back fiercely, pushing up against Joey's legs to bring their bodies closer. Joey hummed, and lifted him higher, and Nick could see his eyes flutter closed.

"In the limo?" he mumbled, clinging to him as they kissed. "We could. It would be so easy, Joey ... " He kissed him again, and again, and fell silent for a moment as he coaxed small, desperate sounds out of Joey's throat. "We could," he repeated, and was starting to think that they should, and leave the talk for when they'd taken the edge off.

Joey arched up so wonderfully under his hands, twisted closer like he couldn't get enough, and then those hands that had been stroking Nick's back were pulling him off, firmly, holding him away. "Not...not here." Joey's voice was hoarse and strained. "We'd have to be fast, and keep our clothes on. And I wanna take it slow with you, and rub all over you, and find out if the backs of your knees are ticklish..." He licked his lips, eyes still closed, then opened them and smiled at Nick, still half-on his lap, half-off. "We gotta. We gotta talk about this, Nick."

Nick had to take a deep breath to keep himself from just keeping going anyway. But he knew that Joey was right -- it was astonishing just how much he'd done already, where people could see him. Being with guys had always been something that was very hush hush with him, but that seemed to be changing. Finally.

"Okay," he said, and sat back into the seat *next* to Joey. "Let's talk."

Joey barked a laugh at him, ran his hands through his hair in a gesture that was starting to be familiar to Nick. "Right, ok. First off. What should I tell my mom this weekend when I introduce you? 'This is my friend Nick,' would be accurate, I guess. 'This is my boyfriend Nick' would have her literally attatched to you at the mouth, and you ain't been kissed till you've been welcomed to the family, so to speak, by my mama. 'This is Nick who you can't give wine to' would be helpful too, but man. I just gotta know what's going on in your head right now. What do you want? From me? And in general?"

"Man," breathed Nick, still panting a little, letting out a short laugh of his own. "I ... you know that's, like, a *huge* question, right? You could ... " He took another deep breath and thought about it, tried to find a starting place. "You could tell her "This is my boyfriend, Nick", Joey ... if you wanted to. I think maybe I'd like it if you did."

"I know it's huge." Joey was smiling, Nick could hear it in his voice. "And...damn. OK, that's cool. My mom's gonna have a fit. We may never make it out of Brooklyn, you realize. Oh, and whatever Steve says? Is a lie. No matter what." He grabbed Nick's hand, and dropped a kiss in the palm, another little gesture that Nick was starting to love. "Thank you," he said softly, and kept holding Nick's hand. "I'll be good to you, you know."

"I know that," said Nick, smiling back. "And I'll try to be good back, as much as I can." That was such a loaded statement, though, and he hoped that Joey knew it. Knew that he would *try*, try really hard, but that he had a long way to come yet. "I don't have anyone to tell, but if I did, would I be able to tell them "this is my boyfriend, Joey"? Would I be right, telling them that?"

"Well, I sure hope you'd have a boyfriend Joey, since I have a boyfriend Nick." Joey's voice was light. "Wow. I have a boyfriend Nick. Does this mean I get to take you to dinner and shit? And buy you presents, and whisk you away for romantic retreats? Is Kevin gonna kick my ass, or what?" His hand tightened a little around Nick's, and he suddenly sounded more serious. "We already know I'm gonna tell my family. But what about Justin and Lance and JC and Chris? And your guys?"

Now *that* was something Nick really needed to think about, because that was going to be a lot bigger deal for him than it was going to be for Joey. "Well, I think JC and Lance are just about taken care of," he murmured, remembering how well they'd treated him. He wasn't sure they were going to *happy* about it -- well, that was more Lance than JC -- but they certainly didn't seem like they'd be upset by it. And Joey's family ... the way he talked about it, they would be positively thrilled.

"I know you're gonna have to tell them," he said finally. "If we want to spend *any* time together, they're gonna have to know. And ... and I guess the same goes for my guys. And --god -- *my* family ... "

"Hey," Joey said, soothingly, like he'd been able to feel Nick tense. He probably had, they were still crushed together on the seat, but now he slipped an arm around Nick's shoulder and pulled him even closer. "Don't freak out on me, ok? You don't gotta do anything tonight, we're just talking here. You said the rest of your band knows anyway, right? So that's not a big deal. And your family...I don't know 'em, but I'll be here for you." Joey sighed, and Nick felt it all through his body. "Just one more thing. You know...you know I'm gonna keep trying to get you to quit drinking, right?"

Nick licked his lips and nodded; that came as no surprise. "And you know it's not going to be easy, right? And ... that might be one of the big things, with us. It's been ... " He looked down at his lap for a moment, at his hands. "I'm sober now," he pointed out after a moment. "Which is something. But it's been really hard tonight, to *not*. I ... I didn't think it would be that hard. I don't know what that means, that it was." He sighed and leaned into Joey's side. "So that's gonna be a thing, I guess."

"You're sober now," Joey pointed out gently, "but you weren't earlier, remember? And yeah, I know it'll be hard. But Nick...I gotta know that you're gonna try. That you really want this, too, because if it's just me...I can't do it. I can't make you do stuff you don't want to do, I don't even want to try. So, yeah." He didn't let go of Nick, didn't move away, but Nick could feel the resolve in him. "I can't be with someone who's gonna crawl into a bottle every night. It's just too hard. But if you try, man, I'll help you every step of the way."

"I'm gonna need it," admitted Nick quietly, pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to admit that to anyone *but* Joey. "That's ... something we'll just need to deal with. I *am* quitting Joey. Completely. Tonight ... I guess tonight showed me I can't just drink a little. It doesn't work that way for me. And I'm betting it's not going to be fun." He sighed again, very glad Joey wasn't moving away. "So if you're willing to put up with that, put up with *me* during that, then ... you're a fucking saint and I want you more than ever. But I don't want to feel like I'm just taking from you, Joey. I want to believe that I'm giving you something back, too ... "

"No, it probably won't be fun." Joey tilted his head down till it was resting against Nick's. "I remember what it was like when Jup stopped drinking and...other stuff. And I'm so glad you said that, Nick, because damn. I really fuckin' like you, and I really didn't want to stop this." He jogged Nick a little. "And I'm no saint, I keep tellin' you. This is selfish, for me, because I like you and I want you, and I think you're pretty amazing, so I'm doing everything I can to make sure that's possible. Well, and I kinda want to see you smiling more, too."

Nick smiled again, in response to that. "Well, at least you know what to expect," he said quietly, closing his eyes and letting the motion of the car, along with the pressure of Joey's arms around him, soothe him. "I could talk to AJ, too ... even though that might blow things up a little bigger than I want them to be." The more he thought about that, though, the less he wanted to go that route. "I'm not sure what you see in me, Joey, but I'm really glad you do. I don't know many people who think I'm more fun *sober*. You sound like ... like you could be perfectly happy watching me study or something."

"You ARE more fun sober," Joey said stoutly, meaning it, Nick could tell. "And I'll bet you're adorable when you study. Glasses and your hair all tangled and chewing on a pencil or something. You can study while I cook for you." The limousine slowed as it turned down Nick's street, and Joey pulled away a little, straightening his clothes. "I see a lot in you, baby. You've got a good heart, and so much talent, and you're funny. Cocky sometimes, which I like a lot. And fucking *gorgeous.* I still can't quite believe you're interested in ME."

Nick opened his eyes and gestured vaguely at Joey's body. "There are just ... a hundred reasons," he said, then made sure *he* looked presentable, too. "And I have to tell you, I'm not all that cute when I'm studying. Glasses and tangled hair, yes, and sticky orange fingers from leaving one hand in the bag of Doritos, and usually wearing just, like boxers. Or sweats. I'm much cuter when I'm painting. Well, if you find someone with paint all over their hands and sometimes face, cute."

"Definitely," Joey laughed, as the limo lurched to a halt. "I gotta tell you, the image of you with sticky orange fingers and boxers isn't exactly a turn-off, you know. Just makes me want to know if you're gonna let me lick them clean for you." He opened the door and slid out, pulling Nick behind him. "Home again, home again, jiggety jog," he sang, walking to the door. "Glad you got those poor bushes cleaned up, man." He turned and grinned. "Please tell me the key isn't under the doormat anymore."

Nick coughed politely and didn't answer, fishing his keys out of his pocket. The doormat had always been a safe place before; he couldn't think of any reason why it wouldn't continue to be. "I guess I wouldn't have to eat doritos," he commented as he handed the keys over. "If you were busy cooking for me. God. It sounds so domestic, huh?"

Joey grabbed the keys and looked at him suspiciously, then bent and checked under the doormat. "A-hah!" He brandished the key. "I knew it. Very very bad, Nicky. Didn't I tell you that everyone looks there? And in the flowerpot, too. I'll just have to hang on to this for safekeeping. I'm surprised you haven't been robbed like twenty times." He opened the door and ushered Nick in with a hand on his back, shut the door, and before Nick could do so much as turn around, pulled him back against his body and bit lightly at the back of his neck. "Wanna do more than just cook for you, you know."

Nick arched his neck and laughed happily. "But not while I'm studying," he said. "Or I'll fail *every*thing." He reached back and ran a hand down Joey's thigh. "I'm really glad you don't mind that ... I'm me. That I not what you might have expected." Joey just bit at his neck again, then nuzzled him. "Keep the key," he added, softly. "You'll be needing it."

"Mmm," Joey agreed, mouth warm and soft on his skin. "Yeah, you're better than I expected." His hands slid around Nick until they were flat on his belly, just above his belt. "It's in my pocket already. The key I mean." Nick could feel him, big and solid and warm, pressed hard against his back. They hadn't even turned on a light yet. "I wanna see you covered in paint, and studying, and wet in the shower, and asleep on my lap. Most of all though I wanna see you naked, right now."

"Yeah, speaking of seeing you," said Nick, pulled his glasses out of his pocket and finally slipped them back on as he turned around in Joey's arms. "Not that they'll stay on long again, if we're heading upstairs ... " He slid a finger through Joey's belt loop and tugged, lightly, leaving their bodies pressed together. "I wanna see you all sorts of ways, too, Joey. I want to learn everything about you."

Joey grinned and let himself be tugged forward. "Not much to learn, here. What you see is mostly what you get." He kissed Nick's nose quickly, then his mouth, then his chin. "Thank God you're tall," he breathed. "I get so sick of that kissing crick in my neck." He kept walking, moving Nick backwards down the hall, and slid his hands into the back pockets of Nick's jeans. Nick sucked in air at the feeling.

"Oh, know all about that," mumbled Nick, still tugging as Joey was nudging him along and gradually making it to the stairs. "Glad you are, too. Glad you're just like me, Joey, like that ... " He stumbled on the first step and paused. "There's *so* much to learn," he argued. "So much, Joey, and I want it all. You're so good, so *amazing*."

Joey tilted his head up to peer at Nick on his step. "Now you're all tall," he complained laughingly, and pushed Nick up one more, following him. "Still tall." He kept pushing gently. "Well, anything you want to know about me, all you have to do is ask. I'll tell you. Like I said, what you see is what you get." He bumped his face into Nick's chest playfully, and Nick surprised himself by giggling. "Now get moving, before I have to pick you up and carry you the rest of the way."

"Since I don't want this night to end with us tumbling down the stairs ... " joked Nick, and took another step back, up the stairs, Joey moving right along with him. "So I can ask you anything? And you'll answer?" He took another step. "When did you know you liked guys?"

"When I was twelve and had to kiss JC in a game of spin the bottle and I really liked it," Joey replied promptly, stepping up. "I didn't even know there was anything unusual about it, so I told my mom, and she almost passed out, and then explained things to me. And yeah, you can ask me anything. I am so not shy." His eyes sparkled warmly as he smiled up at Nick. "Don't think I won't be carrying you up these stairs someday in retribution for that crack, Carter," he warned, laughing.

"God, my mom would have *flipped*," Nick blurted out, stumbling over the next step. "I was ... was doing the circuit at that age. Right before I joined up with the group. Auditions every other day, trying to get a break. Mom would warn me about 'boys like that', told me to make sure I told her if I met any. I never did, though. Tell her, I mean." Jealousy coiled inside him for a moment over JC, but he quashed it as quickly as he could, didn't want to let it barge on on this moment.

"I was pretty grateful to her after," Joey admitted. "When I realized that telling people would have gotten me an asskicking or worse. She was cool about it, though it took my dad a while to come around." His hands were gentle on Nick's waist, now. "So, you met boys like that? You knew then, too?"

"Oh, no, no," said Nick quickly. "I mean, I did, but not me ... I never even let myself think about it, then. No." He tugged Joey up yet another step, trying to reach the top. "I just ... knew them. They were with each other, though, not with me. Or anything ... And I just never told her, cause they were nice to me and stuff, and sometimes she wasn't."

"I'm glad they were nice to you." Joey's voice was a little sad. "I'm sorry she wasn't, always. It's so hard to imagine...like, with Justin. He started so young, like you, I guess, and he's doing really good now, but for a while there we were so worried. That he'd never known anything but this, and that it was gonna mess him up real bad. Chris helped." He pushed at Nick again, and they were finally at the top. "So, these boys...anyone I know? So I can thank 'em for saving you from too much repression and angst?"

"No one you'd know, I don't think," said Nick with a tiny smile, pulling Joey up to join him. "This guy Eric, and Nathan, too. Nathan gave up on show biz when he started high school. Eric ... haven't heard from him in a while. There were others but those guys were my friends." His lips met Joey's, but only for a moment. "I'm pretty sure it did mess me up, Joey ... but I'm working on that. *We* are, I think. Because there was definitely repression and angst."

"Yeah," Joey breathed, kissing him again, "but they set a good example. Showed you that it wasn't wrong and bad. And that's a good place to start." He broke away and looked around himself. "Well, look at that. Here we are at the top of the stairs. Lead the way, beautiful. There are too many rooms up here, I can't remember which one's yours."