Fic-kinda-lets : You're Like a Summer Day and Stay
Title : You're Like a Summer Day
Rating : PG-13
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Summary : Cold places and Nick Jonas don't exactly mesh.
Notes : Originally posted Here for boyfriends_fic
They've never been to a place like this, somewhere that's so cold Nick can barely feel the tips of his fingers. This place, just a stop in between one big extravagant city and another, is foreign in every imaginable way.
The traffic stopped moving hours ago, every vehicle completely motionless like father time is holding the hand of a clock. Even in the bus, underneath rows of blankets, it somehow still manages to be cold, as if he's a magnet and the cold is a thick metal.
Joe's sitting across from him, tapping his fingers over and over like he's got the same song on replay in his head. His eyes give him away, the bored and irritated glow. Nick doesn't even realize he's staring, tracing the lines of Joe's face, from the curve of his nose down to the smooth outward slope of his adam's apple.
He's almost startled when Joe tilts his head, looks directly at him and lifts his eyebrows as if to ask what? Nick shrugs, the movements constricted by the tight wrap of the blankets.
It's another ten minutes filled with monotonous exchanges of glances and tap-tapping of fingers. Finally Joe stands up, the denim pulling tight against his thin legs like they're practically painted on.
"Lets go to the other bus."
"Oh yeah, that's a great idea. Why don't we go build a snow man and a pretty igloo and oh, you wouldn't mind cutting off my foot when I get frost bite now would you?" Nick's voice is patronizing, attitude skirting the words as he rolls his eyes.
But then Joe gives him that look, like he's a fucking puppy that just got his heart broken. As always, that's it. Nick's played like a fiddle, gives in, and bundles up as if he's an Eskimo in training. Joe looks like he wants to laugh, make some kind of comment at the fact that Nick probably just added 20 pounds of coats and scarfs to him.
"I'm serious about the foot thing. If it gets all black and gross you better cut it off." His voice is have muffled behind one of the scarfs, navy fabric crawling all the way to his eyelashes so that he looks more like a ninja than a Jonas.
The minute the doors open there's a wall of cold air, curling over every inch of their bodies and kissing their faces a violent shade of red. The idea seems more stupid now than ever, and Nick's pretty sure turning around and never leaving the bus again would be the best thing for him and his feet, but Joe's full steam ahead, pushing like a tonka truck or something equally as childish and crazy.
The other bus is just three or four cars back, and in normal conditions they would be there in a matter of minutes, but right now the trip seems to be taking forever. Each step is met with an abusive curl of wind, snow coming forth into his eyes until he can barely see Joe in front of him.
Nick can see the shape of the bus in front of them, and for a second he almost thinks it's all his imagination, like a mirage in a big snowy desert. Either way he's picking up his pace, the cold burning in his lungs.
When the bus is in front of them, tangible and pretty much the most beautiful thing ever, Nick forgets the entire reason for the traffic stop, doesn't even remember that black ice exists. Joe tries to grab his arm and stop him, but it's too late, within seconds of his excited run to the bus he's flat out on his ass.
Joe stands over him and the crinkle in his eyes is evident. The smile is the only warm thing Nick's seen all day, and despite the pain souring through his back end, it's comforting.
"Smooth move, Nicky." Joe extends a hand, pulling Nick to his feet.
Even with the helpful gesture, Nick can't do anything but blame his brother for the giant bruise that's sure to show within hours. When he sits on the couch, pulling off the layers of clothing, it stings, and yeah he doesn't care how childish he sounds. This entire thing is all Joe's fault.
"I can cut off your butt if you want. Since you know that'll be black tomorrow, and it's kind of always gross, so..."
Joe probably thinks he's funny, a real comedian or something. If looks could kill, Joe would be a dead comedian.
"You're not coming anywhere near my butt."
"Is that so?" Joe moves closer, mischief creeping to his face. "Whatever you say grumpy," he says, flying forward and practically belly flopping on the small bundle of ice that is Nick.
Joe tickles him, thin fingers deftly crawling underneath Nick's armpits. Nick's bent in the most awkward of ways, begging for mercy and unwillingly laughing.
Joe's hands move, quick and downward until he's at the bottom of Nick's thin cotton shirt. He pulls it up, sneaks under to torture Nick some more, but stops. It's kind of like the traffic, so immediate and blunt it's hard to miss.
"Nicky, you're freezing." Joe's hand rubs at the thin stomach, careful like Nick's treasure that could break at any minute. He wraps him up tight though, loving arms encircling Nick's body to hold him close.
Joe's behind Nick on the couch, and finally Nick just gives in, lets the world of ice that's covering him fall from his shoulders. He relaxes back into the body, so impossibly hot despite the chill outside.
The breath is warm against his cheek and neck, caressing his skin. "Don't worry, I'll warm you right up." And with simple words he does. Joe's voice is like a summer day -burning hot and velvet and so right.
Title : Stay
Rating : PG-13
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Summary : Based on the song Stay by Nick Jonas & The Administration
Notes : Originally posted Here for boyfriends_fic
The club is dark, flashes from cameras the constant beacon stretching all across the concrete floor. Normally a place like this is cold, more rough and dank, but the screaming girls press in and it's stuffier than it's probably ever been. Joe's pressed in the back, a shadow the only curtain between him and desperate grabs he's still not quite used to.
He wonders how Nick feels, just barely off the stage. Joe can feel the butterflies in his stomach for Nick, fluttering their wings and soaring. When Nick finally steps out he's calm, always composed and so quiet. It's the proudest moment Joe's ever had, standing back and watching his brother do what he loves and being successful. He deserves it more than anyone else Joe knows.
When Nick sings he opens up his soul. The audience doesn't seem to realize it, how each note is a perfect reflection of his heart beat. The lights press down on Nick, and it doesn't take long before he's sweating, losing himself in the music so that the songs begin to melt together and feel like an infinite out pour of feelings.
The show pauses briefly, a bare moment of high pitched declarations of love. Nick looks out, scanning the shapes until he spots Joe. Even with the endless blur of faces he can still find him, always there in the background to reassure and comfort.
"This next song is called Stay," the tone of his voice changes dramatically, his eyes turning down to the floor as the opening notes hit the air.
This one is different, a unique melody rendering Joe completely still. It's like an envelope of fear, one that only a brother would know, and it closes so tightly around Nick's every word. To anyone else Nick looks in his element, so spot on, but Joe knows he's terrified because he's putting himself out there - completely stripped of any protective barrier.
The song crawls to a peak, flying up and tugging on Joe's heart strings. He can just barely make out the soft glow of tears, wet streaks painting their way along Nick's cheeks and soul. And when Nick falls to his knees on the stage, his heart left out on the stage, he cries out - begs whoever has his heart to stay, to take this chance.
It hurts, so painful and sharp in Joe's chest. The feeling doesn't leave, not even when Nick's moved on and smiling again. It's still there when the shows over, the fans leaving at a sluggish pace. Joe's trying to get to Nick, to move to the door and escape the suffocating room. By the time he does he feels almost breathless, as if the excitement he came in with has all been drained.
When he finally gets behind the chaos Nick's hugging one of the crew, thanking them with the most humble smile on his face. "Nick," Joe calls, his voice unreasonably frail.
"Joe," Nick's voice is filled with a pleasant sort of joy, his eyes lit like times square on Christmas eve. That all drops away when he looks at Joe, worry and question taking it's place.
He comes close before he whispers in Joe's ear, "What's wrong?" Nick's hand feels so small when he grabs Joe's arm, squeezing it to offer comfort.
They go somewhere quiet, a back room that's cold like the rest of the club should've been, is when it's empty. Nick stays close, his side brushing Joe's, his fingers burning through the thin cotton of Joe's shirt.
"Who's the song about?" Joe asks, and it sounds like the stupidest question he's ever asked, so completely dull and blank.
"What song? Joe what is wrong with you?" Nick's moving now, his body tensing up as his eyebrows knot together.
"Stay. I want to know who it's about, Nicky. Tell me." Joe's pleading now, a softer less expressive version of what Nick had done on the stage.
"Why does it even matter?" Nick asks, and he's starting to burn with anger.
"Because I want to know, Nick. I need to know." Joe doesn't even realize he's screaming until it's too late. None of it makes sense, the pain sitting in the back of his rib cage, the strong itch of jealousy burning inside his gut.
Nick looks surprised, completely taken a back by the verbal blow of Joe's burning diction. "What's gotten into you Joseph?" His voice is hurt, bruised and shrunk back into his throat.
There's tears sitting on the brim of Nick's eyes, rolling along the thin edge and threatening to fall. Somehow even with all the intense confusion Joe still realizes that he did that, he made that happen. Nick's not some cry baby, not a little kid who would just cry for the hell of it, and Joe hurt him enough to make him cry.
"I'm sorry, Nicky." Joe's voice caresses the wounds his previous words had created, "I didn't mean to - I love you," he wraps his arms around Nick, whose body is still so tense and tight it feels like hugging a statue, until like a burning candle Nick begins to melt.
Joe can feel his brothers arms at his waist, holding him. "I love you too."
The moments all too much, though, worse than being unable to breathe in a packed stadium or club. This is all too close, like toeing a line he never realized was there.
He pulls back, looking at Nick with a small half-assed smile. "I'll go help the guys pack up or something," Joe rushes his words, the ends of letters running into each other as he turns to head for the door.
There's a hand pulling him back though, a bruising grip that leads him right back into Nick's arms. Quietly, scared, so naked to all that there is, Nick whispers. "Stay, Joe. Please stay with me."
Rating : PG-13
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Summary : Cold places and Nick Jonas don't exactly mesh.
Notes : Originally posted Here for boyfriends_fic
They've never been to a place like this, somewhere that's so cold Nick can barely feel the tips of his fingers. This place, just a stop in between one big extravagant city and another, is foreign in every imaginable way.
The traffic stopped moving hours ago, every vehicle completely motionless like father time is holding the hand of a clock. Even in the bus, underneath rows of blankets, it somehow still manages to be cold, as if he's a magnet and the cold is a thick metal.
Joe's sitting across from him, tapping his fingers over and over like he's got the same song on replay in his head. His eyes give him away, the bored and irritated glow. Nick doesn't even realize he's staring, tracing the lines of Joe's face, from the curve of his nose down to the smooth outward slope of his adam's apple.
He's almost startled when Joe tilts his head, looks directly at him and lifts his eyebrows as if to ask what? Nick shrugs, the movements constricted by the tight wrap of the blankets.
It's another ten minutes filled with monotonous exchanges of glances and tap-tapping of fingers. Finally Joe stands up, the denim pulling tight against his thin legs like they're practically painted on.
"Lets go to the other bus."
"Oh yeah, that's a great idea. Why don't we go build a snow man and a pretty igloo and oh, you wouldn't mind cutting off my foot when I get frost bite now would you?" Nick's voice is patronizing, attitude skirting the words as he rolls his eyes.
But then Joe gives him that look, like he's a fucking puppy that just got his heart broken. As always, that's it. Nick's played like a fiddle, gives in, and bundles up as if he's an Eskimo in training. Joe looks like he wants to laugh, make some kind of comment at the fact that Nick probably just added 20 pounds of coats and scarfs to him.
"I'm serious about the foot thing. If it gets all black and gross you better cut it off." His voice is have muffled behind one of the scarfs, navy fabric crawling all the way to his eyelashes so that he looks more like a ninja than a Jonas.
The minute the doors open there's a wall of cold air, curling over every inch of their bodies and kissing their faces a violent shade of red. The idea seems more stupid now than ever, and Nick's pretty sure turning around and never leaving the bus again would be the best thing for him and his feet, but Joe's full steam ahead, pushing like a tonka truck or something equally as childish and crazy.
The other bus is just three or four cars back, and in normal conditions they would be there in a matter of minutes, but right now the trip seems to be taking forever. Each step is met with an abusive curl of wind, snow coming forth into his eyes until he can barely see Joe in front of him.
Nick can see the shape of the bus in front of them, and for a second he almost thinks it's all his imagination, like a mirage in a big snowy desert. Either way he's picking up his pace, the cold burning in his lungs.
When the bus is in front of them, tangible and pretty much the most beautiful thing ever, Nick forgets the entire reason for the traffic stop, doesn't even remember that black ice exists. Joe tries to grab his arm and stop him, but it's too late, within seconds of his excited run to the bus he's flat out on his ass.
Joe stands over him and the crinkle in his eyes is evident. The smile is the only warm thing Nick's seen all day, and despite the pain souring through his back end, it's comforting.
"Smooth move, Nicky." Joe extends a hand, pulling Nick to his feet.
Even with the helpful gesture, Nick can't do anything but blame his brother for the giant bruise that's sure to show within hours. When he sits on the couch, pulling off the layers of clothing, it stings, and yeah he doesn't care how childish he sounds. This entire thing is all Joe's fault.
"I can cut off your butt if you want. Since you know that'll be black tomorrow, and it's kind of always gross, so..."
Joe probably thinks he's funny, a real comedian or something. If looks could kill, Joe would be a dead comedian.
"You're not coming anywhere near my butt."
"Is that so?" Joe moves closer, mischief creeping to his face. "Whatever you say grumpy," he says, flying forward and practically belly flopping on the small bundle of ice that is Nick.
Joe tickles him, thin fingers deftly crawling underneath Nick's armpits. Nick's bent in the most awkward of ways, begging for mercy and unwillingly laughing.
Joe's hands move, quick and downward until he's at the bottom of Nick's thin cotton shirt. He pulls it up, sneaks under to torture Nick some more, but stops. It's kind of like the traffic, so immediate and blunt it's hard to miss.
"Nicky, you're freezing." Joe's hand rubs at the thin stomach, careful like Nick's treasure that could break at any minute. He wraps him up tight though, loving arms encircling Nick's body to hold him close.
Joe's behind Nick on the couch, and finally Nick just gives in, lets the world of ice that's covering him fall from his shoulders. He relaxes back into the body, so impossibly hot despite the chill outside.
The breath is warm against his cheek and neck, caressing his skin. "Don't worry, I'll warm you right up." And with simple words he does. Joe's voice is like a summer day -burning hot and velvet and so right.
Title : Stay
Rating : PG-13
Pairing : Joe/Nick
Summary : Based on the song Stay by Nick Jonas & The Administration
Notes : Originally posted Here for boyfriends_fic
The club is dark, flashes from cameras the constant beacon stretching all across the concrete floor. Normally a place like this is cold, more rough and dank, but the screaming girls press in and it's stuffier than it's probably ever been. Joe's pressed in the back, a shadow the only curtain between him and desperate grabs he's still not quite used to.
He wonders how Nick feels, just barely off the stage. Joe can feel the butterflies in his stomach for Nick, fluttering their wings and soaring. When Nick finally steps out he's calm, always composed and so quiet. It's the proudest moment Joe's ever had, standing back and watching his brother do what he loves and being successful. He deserves it more than anyone else Joe knows.
When Nick sings he opens up his soul. The audience doesn't seem to realize it, how each note is a perfect reflection of his heart beat. The lights press down on Nick, and it doesn't take long before he's sweating, losing himself in the music so that the songs begin to melt together and feel like an infinite out pour of feelings.
The show pauses briefly, a bare moment of high pitched declarations of love. Nick looks out, scanning the shapes until he spots Joe. Even with the endless blur of faces he can still find him, always there in the background to reassure and comfort.
"This next song is called Stay," the tone of his voice changes dramatically, his eyes turning down to the floor as the opening notes hit the air.
This one is different, a unique melody rendering Joe completely still. It's like an envelope of fear, one that only a brother would know, and it closes so tightly around Nick's every word. To anyone else Nick looks in his element, so spot on, but Joe knows he's terrified because he's putting himself out there - completely stripped of any protective barrier.
The song crawls to a peak, flying up and tugging on Joe's heart strings. He can just barely make out the soft glow of tears, wet streaks painting their way along Nick's cheeks and soul. And when Nick falls to his knees on the stage, his heart left out on the stage, he cries out - begs whoever has his heart to stay, to take this chance.
It hurts, so painful and sharp in Joe's chest. The feeling doesn't leave, not even when Nick's moved on and smiling again. It's still there when the shows over, the fans leaving at a sluggish pace. Joe's trying to get to Nick, to move to the door and escape the suffocating room. By the time he does he feels almost breathless, as if the excitement he came in with has all been drained.
When he finally gets behind the chaos Nick's hugging one of the crew, thanking them with the most humble smile on his face. "Nick," Joe calls, his voice unreasonably frail.
"Joe," Nick's voice is filled with a pleasant sort of joy, his eyes lit like times square on Christmas eve. That all drops away when he looks at Joe, worry and question taking it's place.
He comes close before he whispers in Joe's ear, "What's wrong?" Nick's hand feels so small when he grabs Joe's arm, squeezing it to offer comfort.
They go somewhere quiet, a back room that's cold like the rest of the club should've been, is when it's empty. Nick stays close, his side brushing Joe's, his fingers burning through the thin cotton of Joe's shirt.
"Who's the song about?" Joe asks, and it sounds like the stupidest question he's ever asked, so completely dull and blank.
"What song? Joe what is wrong with you?" Nick's moving now, his body tensing up as his eyebrows knot together.
"Stay. I want to know who it's about, Nicky. Tell me." Joe's pleading now, a softer less expressive version of what Nick had done on the stage.
"Why does it even matter?" Nick asks, and he's starting to burn with anger.
"Because I want to know, Nick. I need to know." Joe doesn't even realize he's screaming until it's too late. None of it makes sense, the pain sitting in the back of his rib cage, the strong itch of jealousy burning inside his gut.
Nick looks surprised, completely taken a back by the verbal blow of Joe's burning diction. "What's gotten into you Joseph?" His voice is hurt, bruised and shrunk back into his throat.
There's tears sitting on the brim of Nick's eyes, rolling along the thin edge and threatening to fall. Somehow even with all the intense confusion Joe still realizes that he did that, he made that happen. Nick's not some cry baby, not a little kid who would just cry for the hell of it, and Joe hurt him enough to make him cry.
"I'm sorry, Nicky." Joe's voice caresses the wounds his previous words had created, "I didn't mean to - I love you," he wraps his arms around Nick, whose body is still so tense and tight it feels like hugging a statue, until like a burning candle Nick begins to melt.
Joe can feel his brothers arms at his waist, holding him. "I love you too."
The moments all too much, though, worse than being unable to breathe in a packed stadium or club. This is all too close, like toeing a line he never realized was there.
He pulls back, looking at Nick with a small half-assed smile. "I'll go help the guys pack up or something," Joe rushes his words, the ends of letters running into each other as he turns to head for the door.
There's a hand pulling him back though, a bruising grip that leads him right back into Nick's arms. Quietly, scared, so naked to all that there is, Nick whispers. "Stay, Joe. Please stay with me."