What I Did On My Summer Vacation (By Joe Jonas, Age 19) 1/1 (Flogging Molly, Jonas Brothers)
Title: What I Did On My Summer Vacation (By Joe Jonas, Age 19)
Genre: Slash
Fandoms: Flogging Molly, Jonas Brothers
Main Characters: Nathen Maxwell, Joe Jonas
Adult Content: Ish
Words: 2686
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Joe finds an all-too-willing outlet for his teenage rebellion, and enjoys his summer.
Teaser: "Dude. I love you guys," Nate says, facing Joe again, and he can't tell if he's being made fun of or not, but Nate looks so earnest he'll take it at face value until something proves him wrong. "Like, the guys hate when I get to pick the bus music lately." Nate slings an arm around his shoulder, easy and casual, starts dragging him around. "We need to find a camera, shit."
It's kind of fun, for a night or two here and there, to be just a normal guy doing normal things, not Joe Jonas doing a Stars! They're Just Like Us! Thing, and sometimes Joe considers it a huge blessing his taste in music doesn't always overlap with his fans'.
Of course, he can pretend all he wants, but that doesn't change the fact he is Joe Jonas, and sometimes that leads to weird shit when he's just trying to tell the bassist from Flogging Molly he really enjoyed the show.
"Dude!" The guy says, and his face lights up, and he's kind of goofy-looking but not, like, in a bad way. "No way. I'm about to embarrass myself hugely, hold on." He turns his head, hollers, "Dave! Are you going back to the bus?"
"I can," Dave says, wandering over, and then he sees Joe and snorts, rolls his eyes at the bassist (Nate? Joe's shit with names). "Yes, I'll grab it," he says, answers a question no one asked.
"Dude. I love you guys," Nate says, facing Joe again, and he can't tell if he's being made fun of or not, but Nate looks so earnest he'll take it at face value until something proves him wrong. "Like, the guys hate when I get to pick the bus music lately." Nate slings an arm around his shoulder, easy and casual, starts dragging him around. "We need to find a camera, shit."
This is all kinds of ridiculous, but whatever. "The, uh, show was awesome." Joe is totally not used to feeling this steamrolled by someone else, usually he's the one doing the...steamrolling, which is totally a word, and it's weird, but he's glad he came and kind of enjoying the turn of events.
Dave pops up by Nate's side, hands him a cd and a Sharpie, and Nate's grin gets even bigger. "I am the biggest fucking loser. Dave, where's our photographer? I can't let this moment get away. My life, man. My life."
He's giving Nate that same indulgent look Nick usually gives Joe, except Nick doesn't look at all like a leprechaun. Which kind of sucks, as much as he loves Nick. "Already on the bus."
"Fuuuuuuuck him. Dude, sign this," Nate says, thrusts the cd at Joe. "Wait. Should I squeal that? I don't know if there's, like, a protocol. Dennis! Look what I caught."
One of the bald guys, the guitarist, looks over, rolls his eyes (that's all anyone ever does when they look at Nate, apparently), but he's smiling, another indulgent-Nick expression. Joe scribbles his name above his head on Nate's copy of Lines, Vines, and Trying Times, and adds a heart 'cause Nate seems like the kind of guy who'd love that. He hands it back, and Nate just fucking beams.
"Dude. Dude. We're going out for drinks. Come with us. Or are you wearing, like, a Disney ankle bracelet? We'll...karaoke, or some shit."
Joe thinks for about thirty seconds about Nick and Kevin and Dad, about being underage, about tabloids and alcohol and scandal, and then he switches to how much fun he's had already, about how ridiculous Nate is now and how much worse he'll be in an hour, and it's not even a question.
"If you've got a screwdriver, I can get the ankle bracelet off for a few hours."
- - - - - -
Nate probably shouldn't be this amused by someone else's suffering, but Joe had been so determined at the bar, grimacing through the first couple rounds like he was convinced if he made it through the initiation there was some kind of magic that'd make Guinness delicious (which, okay, there is, and he found it, but whatever), and Nate knows that face, remembers that attitude, and it's been years since he's seen the ceremonial First Vomiting Of The Booze. The whole thing kind of paints a picture of innocence lost.
Or something. Whatever. He's kind of drunk, probably. He'd like to think if he were a touch more sober he'd've taken pity on the wee Jonas (he should get that out of his head, 'cause from the way Joe glared at Dave over that, saying "wee Jonas" out loud might get Nate's head bitten off).
Dennis pokes his head in around the time Joe leans back to take deep, gasping breaths, rolls his eyes at Nate and glances at the bowl.
"Ho-lee shit, you don't even look like your stomach could hold that much."
Joe, to his credit, gives Dennis a weak smile, like he's gonna try to banter right back at him, but that's not fucking happening and then it's back over the toilet for round two. And Nate feels kind of bad for laughing, because yeah, this sucks, but hey, he's been there, and this'll be a good war story tomorrow. Or the next day, since Joe's gonna be hung over like Hell tomorrow. And to his credit, he does rub Joe's back and, ages later when he's finally emptied his bottomless stomach and probably lost a few key internal organs, offer the kid his toothbrush.
- - - - - -
You are a dirty pants thief -N
Joe blinks at the screen a few times, trying to figure out when he could have stolen Nick's pants and when Nick started spelling out "you" and "are" in his texts and why Nick would bother with a text when he's right in front of him.
"Dude, I can't even wear your pants."
Nick blinks at him like he's crazy. "I...didn't say you could?"
Joe hands him the phone. "Why would I steal your pants if I can't wear them?"
"Nick isn't the only name in the world that starts with 'N', doofus. Who's Nate?"
"Ohhhhh," Joe says, snatches the phone back, doesn't bother to explain. Nick looks at him for a minute, shrugs, goes back to looking out the window. It probably says a lot that Nick didn't ask why Joe has some guy's pants.
U cant be N, Nick is N
"Is Nate why you didn't come home a couple nights ago? And I'm scared to ask why he called you a pants thief."
"Yes. And I grabbed the wrong pants in the morning."
"Why did you need pants in the morning?" Kevin asks, looks at him in the rearview mirror.
Joe rolls his eyes. "I was wearing very tight jeans and didn't want to sleep with them on. Good?"
"I was just asking."
"I'm capable of behaving."
Nick and Kevin both snort, and he can't tell if they're joking or not, and okay, that's a little insulting.
"You were so hungover you could barely move, Joe."
"I said I'm capable, not that I always do behave."
I dont care who I am, I want my pants back -Ate
Kevin looks at him again in the rearview mirror, shrugs, turns his eyes back to the road. Kevin doesn't get him, a lot of the time, but Kevin is the kind of guy who never needed warnings, reminders, scoldings. Kevin went to the movies with a few friends on his twenty-first birthday and doesn't always have to set an alarm to get up for church on Sundays, and that pretty much says it all. So Joe, who likes to go to parties that Disney wouldn't like, who might've just gotten drunk for real the first time but who hadn't just had his first taste of alcohol, is kind of a new thing for everyone to deal with.
When and where?
Nate sends him a time and address just as Kevin pulls up to the valet; Joe's pretty sure it's a bar, wonders if Nate's just having fun corrupting a Jonas Brother, but tells him yes without thinking too much about it.
- - - - - -
"We don't actually let him drink tequila," Dennis says as a hand came from behind Joe to take the margarita Nate was about to drink, replacing it with a Guinness. "It never ends well."
"It's not always bad," Nate argues, but drinks the Guinness without a fight. "Just, like, most of the time. When I have too much."
"Have you ever not had too much?"
Nate tilts his head, thinks for a minute, comes up with about eight hundred embarrassing-but-hilarious stories, and stops trying. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. You're, uh, allowed to drink that, y'know. Dennis won't be an ass and ruin your fun," he says, when he notices Joe hasn't touched his awesome neon-blue concoction.
"It looks like toxic waste."
"It tastes like happiness."
Dennis, snorts, rolls his eyes, and gets up. "I just stopped in to say hi, so I'm out. Keep - oh God, I was gonna say keep an eye on him but I don't know who I'd be talking to. Don't...die. Or kill anyone."
Nate and Joe both salute as he walks out, and Nate is just a little tempted to call Joe his soulmate right now.
"Holy shit, this does taste like happiness."
A lot tempted.
- - - - - -
Joe wakes up in a sweaty tangle of naked limbs; Nate's so gangly he might as well have, like, sixteen arms and legs, and it's gonna take him at least a hundred hours to untangle himself. Or he could just go back to sleep.
"How drunk are you, Jonas?" Nate asks, against his lips. He kisses like dynamite, tastes like Guinness, can't seem to control his hands and Joe is so fucking turned on right now.
"Just...fuzzy. I'm fine. Shit."
Nate's got him up against the bathroom wall, Joe can see himself in the mirror, flushed and sweating, and someone's going to walk in, probably one of the two or three people who recognized him a little while ago, and that would just be awesome.
"I don't wanna pop your cherry if you're, like, smashed," Nate says, pulls back, looks him over.
"I'm fine, really. And it's, like, half a cherry," Joe says, tries to look as sober as possible, tries to pull him back in, but Nate's already gone, dragging him out to the street to get them a fucking taxi right. that. minute.
His phone starts buzzing on the bedside table, and Joe's kind of proud of himself for having the presence of mind to grab it out of his pants at some point, although he'd be more proud if he'd done something that didn't interfere with his desire to sleep a few more hours.
"Capable of behaving, huh?" Nick asks, but he sounds more amused than anything. Nick comes closest to getting him out of everyone, even though Joe's pretty sure Nick's teenage rebellion is gonna be more like, opening a stock portfolio than getting tanked and fucking some guy.
"Yes. I could, I didn't. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"One thirty. Afternoon, not morning. I think you're a few hours past indignant."
"I'm not indignant, I just wanted to know."
"Are you anywhere near the studio? You've got half an hour."
"I...might...be?" He can hear the eye roll. Awesome. "I'll be there. Fresh as a daisy, even."
Nick hangs up without a goodbye, and Joe prods at the limp body tangled around his until Nate blinks, eyes unfocused, grumbles something cranky and incoherent and closes his eyes again.
"Ugh, you wake up like I do. I need a shower and a ride, consider it payment for taking advantage of me."
"I didn't take advantage," Nate mumbles, words thick with sleep, but he starts detangling himself and finally sits up. "Ugh. The sun's still up. Shower's down the hall, first door on the left. If I'm not awake when you're done, leave me for dead and walk wherever the fuck you're going."
- - - - - -
"I can't believe you're dating a Jonas Brother," Bob says, and he sounds like he actually can't believe it, not like he's just using an expression.
"It's not dating, we're just BFFs eternally," Nate sings the last part, but everyone's taken to wearing earplugs when he plays their music and no one gets it. "And I'm corrupting him in a variety of ways."
"Is your boyfriend coming to the show tonight?" Bridget asks. Was she even listening? Fuckers
"Eternal BFF. And yes."
"Should we announce your engagement on stage?"
"We could play one of their songs."
Dave looks at her in absolute horror, like that's the worst thing she's ever said (to him, it might be). "You are a horrible, horrible person. Horrible."
"We'll dedicate a song to the happy couple."
"Between a Man and a Jonas?"
Nate tries, really hard, to look angry at Bob, but he gets this really incredible mental picture of Dave actually singing that, and instead of looking menacing, he laughs. "I hate all of you."
- - - - - -
Molly's tour wraps up, and Nate and Joe spend most of the summer hanging out, minus the time Joe spends in the studio. For a couple weeks, they spend an insane amount of time fucking, because, you know, why not. Plus, it's one of a couple things they can do that doesn't take the energy required for Joe to get all incognito-ed (or the patience to deal with crowds) and isn't likely to end up in a lecture from anyone about behaving.
It's easy, and uncomplicated, and it's pretty much what Joe needs right now. They hang out on the beach and Nate falls asleep, gets the world's worst sunburn, and Joe laughs until he realizes he can't touch him for, like, three days. They eventually do end up going to karaoke, which is a ridiculously stupid idea, because it takes five minutes for people to notice Joe Jonas is singing at this bar and he gets mobbed like fuck.
He sings stupid hair metal, sucks Nate off in the bathroom with something like two hundred fans outside; Nick tells him later if he does that again to stick to songs that don't require him to take his shirt off. Apparently Disney wasn't thrilled.
Pictures surface occasionally, Joe hanging out in bars, Joe and Nate wandering around with their arms slung around each other at two in the morning, big stupid grins on their faces and arms slung around each other. Some magic goes on behind the scenes, that or he's got impossible luck, and no photographer ever catches him with a drink or dick or joint in his hand, in his mouth. Sometimes he's almost disappointed.
Nate's got some solo project he's working on, and Joe sits in when he's not in the studio himself, and everything sounds like the summer, like lazy fucks and getting stoned and drinking without worrying. Kevin comes sometimes, he's got one of the guys in Molly teaching him accordion because Kevin is the biggest nerd ever, and the disapproving looks slow down, stop, when Kevin kind of gets that Joe's sinning bad-influence friends are actually pretty good guys.
- - - - - -
Joe's hair is impossibly soft, and the way his body curves against Nate's it's almost like spooning against a girl sometimes. Especially 'cause whatever shampoo he used last is kind of fruity. Nate opens his mouth, starts to say that, but he's sober so he knows how that'll turn out, and doesn't bother.
"Back to Dallas tomorrow," Joe says, like it's something Nate should know. Maybe he did know? His memory's shit.
"Have you told me that already?"
"I...maybe? I meant to. We're done recording, so back to the Dallas house to finish up. And then tour, I guess."
"Cool."
Joe sits up, stretches, skin pulling taut over lean muscle. "I'm gonna head home. Early flight. Well. Early for me, noonish."
"Ugh. The sun'll be up."
Joe grins, leans down to kiss Nate. "It's been fun."
"Are you properly corrupted, or should we, like, rob a bank before you go?"
"I could probably use the extra cash," Joe says, starts gathering up his clothes. "Keep in touch, dude."
"Get the right pants this time, Jonas."
Genre: Slash
Fandoms: Flogging Molly, Jonas Brothers
Main Characters: Nathen Maxwell, Joe Jonas
Adult Content: Ish
Words: 2686
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Joe finds an all-too-willing outlet for his teenage rebellion, and enjoys his summer.
Teaser: "Dude. I love you guys," Nate says, facing Joe again, and he can't tell if he's being made fun of or not, but Nate looks so earnest he'll take it at face value until something proves him wrong. "Like, the guys hate when I get to pick the bus music lately." Nate slings an arm around his shoulder, easy and casual, starts dragging him around. "We need to find a camera, shit."
It's kind of fun, for a night or two here and there, to be just a normal guy doing normal things, not Joe Jonas doing a Stars! They're Just Like Us! Thing, and sometimes Joe considers it a huge blessing his taste in music doesn't always overlap with his fans'.
Of course, he can pretend all he wants, but that doesn't change the fact he is Joe Jonas, and sometimes that leads to weird shit when he's just trying to tell the bassist from Flogging Molly he really enjoyed the show.
"Dude!" The guy says, and his face lights up, and he's kind of goofy-looking but not, like, in a bad way. "No way. I'm about to embarrass myself hugely, hold on." He turns his head, hollers, "Dave! Are you going back to the bus?"
"I can," Dave says, wandering over, and then he sees Joe and snorts, rolls his eyes at the bassist (Nate? Joe's shit with names). "Yes, I'll grab it," he says, answers a question no one asked.
"Dude. I love you guys," Nate says, facing Joe again, and he can't tell if he's being made fun of or not, but Nate looks so earnest he'll take it at face value until something proves him wrong. "Like, the guys hate when I get to pick the bus music lately." Nate slings an arm around his shoulder, easy and casual, starts dragging him around. "We need to find a camera, shit."
This is all kinds of ridiculous, but whatever. "The, uh, show was awesome." Joe is totally not used to feeling this steamrolled by someone else, usually he's the one doing the...steamrolling, which is totally a word, and it's weird, but he's glad he came and kind of enjoying the turn of events.
Dave pops up by Nate's side, hands him a cd and a Sharpie, and Nate's grin gets even bigger. "I am the biggest fucking loser. Dave, where's our photographer? I can't let this moment get away. My life, man. My life."
He's giving Nate that same indulgent look Nick usually gives Joe, except Nick doesn't look at all like a leprechaun. Which kind of sucks, as much as he loves Nick. "Already on the bus."
"Fuuuuuuuck him. Dude, sign this," Nate says, thrusts the cd at Joe. "Wait. Should I squeal that? I don't know if there's, like, a protocol. Dennis! Look what I caught."
One of the bald guys, the guitarist, looks over, rolls his eyes (that's all anyone ever does when they look at Nate, apparently), but he's smiling, another indulgent-Nick expression. Joe scribbles his name above his head on Nate's copy of Lines, Vines, and Trying Times, and adds a heart 'cause Nate seems like the kind of guy who'd love that. He hands it back, and Nate just fucking beams.
"Dude. Dude. We're going out for drinks. Come with us. Or are you wearing, like, a Disney ankle bracelet? We'll...karaoke, or some shit."
Joe thinks for about thirty seconds about Nick and Kevin and Dad, about being underage, about tabloids and alcohol and scandal, and then he switches to how much fun he's had already, about how ridiculous Nate is now and how much worse he'll be in an hour, and it's not even a question.
"If you've got a screwdriver, I can get the ankle bracelet off for a few hours."
- - - - - -
Nate probably shouldn't be this amused by someone else's suffering, but Joe had been so determined at the bar, grimacing through the first couple rounds like he was convinced if he made it through the initiation there was some kind of magic that'd make Guinness delicious (which, okay, there is, and he found it, but whatever), and Nate knows that face, remembers that attitude, and it's been years since he's seen the ceremonial First Vomiting Of The Booze. The whole thing kind of paints a picture of innocence lost.
Or something. Whatever. He's kind of drunk, probably. He'd like to think if he were a touch more sober he'd've taken pity on the wee Jonas (he should get that out of his head, 'cause from the way Joe glared at Dave over that, saying "wee Jonas" out loud might get Nate's head bitten off).
Dennis pokes his head in around the time Joe leans back to take deep, gasping breaths, rolls his eyes at Nate and glances at the bowl.
"Ho-lee shit, you don't even look like your stomach could hold that much."
Joe, to his credit, gives Dennis a weak smile, like he's gonna try to banter right back at him, but that's not fucking happening and then it's back over the toilet for round two. And Nate feels kind of bad for laughing, because yeah, this sucks, but hey, he's been there, and this'll be a good war story tomorrow. Or the next day, since Joe's gonna be hung over like Hell tomorrow. And to his credit, he does rub Joe's back and, ages later when he's finally emptied his bottomless stomach and probably lost a few key internal organs, offer the kid his toothbrush.
- - - - - -
You are a dirty pants thief -N
Joe blinks at the screen a few times, trying to figure out when he could have stolen Nick's pants and when Nick started spelling out "you" and "are" in his texts and why Nick would bother with a text when he's right in front of him.
"Dude, I can't even wear your pants."
Nick blinks at him like he's crazy. "I...didn't say you could?"
Joe hands him the phone. "Why would I steal your pants if I can't wear them?"
"Nick isn't the only name in the world that starts with 'N', doofus. Who's Nate?"
"Ohhhhh," Joe says, snatches the phone back, doesn't bother to explain. Nick looks at him for a minute, shrugs, goes back to looking out the window. It probably says a lot that Nick didn't ask why Joe has some guy's pants.
U cant be N, Nick is N
"Is Nate why you didn't come home a couple nights ago? And I'm scared to ask why he called you a pants thief."
"Yes. And I grabbed the wrong pants in the morning."
"Why did you need pants in the morning?" Kevin asks, looks at him in the rearview mirror.
Joe rolls his eyes. "I was wearing very tight jeans and didn't want to sleep with them on. Good?"
"I was just asking."
"I'm capable of behaving."
Nick and Kevin both snort, and he can't tell if they're joking or not, and okay, that's a little insulting.
"You were so hungover you could barely move, Joe."
"I said I'm capable, not that I always do behave."
I dont care who I am, I want my pants back -Ate
Kevin looks at him again in the rearview mirror, shrugs, turns his eyes back to the road. Kevin doesn't get him, a lot of the time, but Kevin is the kind of guy who never needed warnings, reminders, scoldings. Kevin went to the movies with a few friends on his twenty-first birthday and doesn't always have to set an alarm to get up for church on Sundays, and that pretty much says it all. So Joe, who likes to go to parties that Disney wouldn't like, who might've just gotten drunk for real the first time but who hadn't just had his first taste of alcohol, is kind of a new thing for everyone to deal with.
When and where?
Nate sends him a time and address just as Kevin pulls up to the valet; Joe's pretty sure it's a bar, wonders if Nate's just having fun corrupting a Jonas Brother, but tells him yes without thinking too much about it.
- - - - - -
"We don't actually let him drink tequila," Dennis says as a hand came from behind Joe to take the margarita Nate was about to drink, replacing it with a Guinness. "It never ends well."
"It's not always bad," Nate argues, but drinks the Guinness without a fight. "Just, like, most of the time. When I have too much."
"Have you ever not had too much?"
Nate tilts his head, thinks for a minute, comes up with about eight hundred embarrassing-but-hilarious stories, and stops trying. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. You're, uh, allowed to drink that, y'know. Dennis won't be an ass and ruin your fun," he says, when he notices Joe hasn't touched his awesome neon-blue concoction.
"It looks like toxic waste."
"It tastes like happiness."
Dennis, snorts, rolls his eyes, and gets up. "I just stopped in to say hi, so I'm out. Keep - oh God, I was gonna say keep an eye on him but I don't know who I'd be talking to. Don't...die. Or kill anyone."
Nate and Joe both salute as he walks out, and Nate is just a little tempted to call Joe his soulmate right now.
"Holy shit, this does taste like happiness."
A lot tempted.
- - - - - -
Joe wakes up in a sweaty tangle of naked limbs; Nate's so gangly he might as well have, like, sixteen arms and legs, and it's gonna take him at least a hundred hours to untangle himself. Or he could just go back to sleep.
"How drunk are you, Jonas?" Nate asks, against his lips. He kisses like dynamite, tastes like Guinness, can't seem to control his hands and Joe is so fucking turned on right now.
"Just...fuzzy. I'm fine. Shit."
Nate's got him up against the bathroom wall, Joe can see himself in the mirror, flushed and sweating, and someone's going to walk in, probably one of the two or three people who recognized him a little while ago, and that would just be awesome.
"I don't wanna pop your cherry if you're, like, smashed," Nate says, pulls back, looks him over.
"I'm fine, really. And it's, like, half a cherry," Joe says, tries to look as sober as possible, tries to pull him back in, but Nate's already gone, dragging him out to the street to get them a fucking taxi right. that. minute.
His phone starts buzzing on the bedside table, and Joe's kind of proud of himself for having the presence of mind to grab it out of his pants at some point, although he'd be more proud if he'd done something that didn't interfere with his desire to sleep a few more hours.
"Capable of behaving, huh?" Nick asks, but he sounds more amused than anything. Nick comes closest to getting him out of everyone, even though Joe's pretty sure Nick's teenage rebellion is gonna be more like, opening a stock portfolio than getting tanked and fucking some guy.
"Yes. I could, I didn't. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"One thirty. Afternoon, not morning. I think you're a few hours past indignant."
"I'm not indignant, I just wanted to know."
"Are you anywhere near the studio? You've got half an hour."
"I...might...be?" He can hear the eye roll. Awesome. "I'll be there. Fresh as a daisy, even."
Nick hangs up without a goodbye, and Joe prods at the limp body tangled around his until Nate blinks, eyes unfocused, grumbles something cranky and incoherent and closes his eyes again.
"Ugh, you wake up like I do. I need a shower and a ride, consider it payment for taking advantage of me."
"I didn't take advantage," Nate mumbles, words thick with sleep, but he starts detangling himself and finally sits up. "Ugh. The sun's still up. Shower's down the hall, first door on the left. If I'm not awake when you're done, leave me for dead and walk wherever the fuck you're going."
- - - - - -
"I can't believe you're dating a Jonas Brother," Bob says, and he sounds like he actually can't believe it, not like he's just using an expression.
"It's not dating, we're just BFFs eternally," Nate sings the last part, but everyone's taken to wearing earplugs when he plays their music and no one gets it. "And I'm corrupting him in a variety of ways."
"Is your boyfriend coming to the show tonight?" Bridget asks. Was she even listening? Fuckers
"Eternal BFF. And yes."
"Should we announce your engagement on stage?"
"We could play one of their songs."
Dave looks at her in absolute horror, like that's the worst thing she's ever said (to him, it might be). "You are a horrible, horrible person. Horrible."
"We'll dedicate a song to the happy couple."
"Between a Man and a Jonas?"
Nate tries, really hard, to look angry at Bob, but he gets this really incredible mental picture of Dave actually singing that, and instead of looking menacing, he laughs. "I hate all of you."
- - - - - -
Molly's tour wraps up, and Nate and Joe spend most of the summer hanging out, minus the time Joe spends in the studio. For a couple weeks, they spend an insane amount of time fucking, because, you know, why not. Plus, it's one of a couple things they can do that doesn't take the energy required for Joe to get all incognito-ed (or the patience to deal with crowds) and isn't likely to end up in a lecture from anyone about behaving.
It's easy, and uncomplicated, and it's pretty much what Joe needs right now. They hang out on the beach and Nate falls asleep, gets the world's worst sunburn, and Joe laughs until he realizes he can't touch him for, like, three days. They eventually do end up going to karaoke, which is a ridiculously stupid idea, because it takes five minutes for people to notice Joe Jonas is singing at this bar and he gets mobbed like fuck.
He sings stupid hair metal, sucks Nate off in the bathroom with something like two hundred fans outside; Nick tells him later if he does that again to stick to songs that don't require him to take his shirt off. Apparently Disney wasn't thrilled.
Pictures surface occasionally, Joe hanging out in bars, Joe and Nate wandering around with their arms slung around each other at two in the morning, big stupid grins on their faces and arms slung around each other. Some magic goes on behind the scenes, that or he's got impossible luck, and no photographer ever catches him with a drink or dick or joint in his hand, in his mouth. Sometimes he's almost disappointed.
Nate's got some solo project he's working on, and Joe sits in when he's not in the studio himself, and everything sounds like the summer, like lazy fucks and getting stoned and drinking without worrying. Kevin comes sometimes, he's got one of the guys in Molly teaching him accordion because Kevin is the biggest nerd ever, and the disapproving looks slow down, stop, when Kevin kind of gets that Joe's sinning bad-influence friends are actually pretty good guys.
- - - - - -
Joe's hair is impossibly soft, and the way his body curves against Nate's it's almost like spooning against a girl sometimes. Especially 'cause whatever shampoo he used last is kind of fruity. Nate opens his mouth, starts to say that, but he's sober so he knows how that'll turn out, and doesn't bother.
"Back to Dallas tomorrow," Joe says, like it's something Nate should know. Maybe he did know? His memory's shit.
"Have you told me that already?"
"I...maybe? I meant to. We're done recording, so back to the Dallas house to finish up. And then tour, I guess."
"Cool."
Joe sits up, stretches, skin pulling taut over lean muscle. "I'm gonna head home. Early flight. Well. Early for me, noonish."
"Ugh. The sun'll be up."
Joe grins, leans down to kiss Nate. "It's been fun."
"Are you properly corrupted, or should we, like, rob a bank before you go?"
"I could probably use the extra cash," Joe says, starts gathering up his clothes. "Keep in touch, dude."
"Get the right pants this time, Jonas."