as breathing (Jonas Brothers, J/N, NC-17)

[minimuses]

title: as breathing
pairing: Joe/Nick
rating: NC-17
warnings: The usual - incest and underage (Nick is seventeen). Also, large age difference? Also, off-camera character death. So, not quite the usual.
summary: novaberry wanted 35-year old, confidently gay Joe seducing now!Nick. This is not that fic. This is that fic's deranged aunt we keep locked up in the fandom's attic. Now!Nick inadvertently time warps to the future and meets older!Joe, who is much the worse for wear after a recent tragedy.
notes: This fic would literally not exist without theskyturnsred. She pretty much writes my fics now; I just give them words. Thanks, bb. :3
date: 7/11/10

Joe didn't know what to think. His first and prevailing thought was that he must be losing his mind - that he'd cracked under the strain of trying to make it one more day, and had a complete nervous breakdown. It was really the only thing that made sense, but if this was a mental break then he'd been badly misinformed. He felt fine, as fine as he ever did these days; he was tired and bone-weary, his eyes itched with too little sleep. But all of that was pretty much normal for him. He didn't feel crazy.

It was just that Nick was there. Like...right there, in his living room, looking even more shellshocked than Joe felt. And it was just...he was young, much younger than he should have been. He was just a kid again. Joe remembered that Nick; he had pictures of that Nick in his bedroom, right next to the ones of Nick from ten years ago, and five years ago, and last year. This Nick was just a memory, but he stood there staring at Joe, wide-eyed and looking even younger than Joe knew him to be.

"Joe?" he asked in an unsure voice. Joe could hear the tremor in it that he knew no one else would have been able to detect, and before he even realized he'd moved, he was across the room and standing nearly toe to toe with his little brother. Nick looked scared and confused, paler even than he normally had been, then (he didn't start really being able to pick up and keep a tan until he'd got to his mid-twenties, and Joe remembered how smug he'd been about it, too). Joe put his trembling hands on either side of Nick's face, cradling it, his skin so unbelievably soft and delicate-feeling in Joe's rougher palms, and just looked at him for the longest time, the moment stretching out frail and breakable until Joe finally crushed Nick into a hug. Nick's arms came up immediately, clutching at Joe almost painfully tight.

"Nicky," Joe whispered hoarsely, tears clogging his voice. "Yeah. Yeah, Nick, it's me."

"Joe, what's...what happened?"

Joe cleared his throat, forced himself to breathe through it. God, Nick was so real and alive in his arms...

"I don't know," Joe told him honestly. "I've never...how old are you?"

Nick laughed a little, sounding incredulous. "Seventeen. How old are you?" There was a tiny teasing edge in his thin voice, and Joe smiled, smiled so hard it hurt his face.

"Thirty-five," he replied, squeezing Nick a little. He couldn't seem to let go, even though Nick was starting to shift a little bit, acting restless. Joe smiled. Nick always was a little bit weird about being manhandled, at that age. God, it was insane, everything Joe could remember about him. Just seeing him brought it all back like a flood, and it threatened to overwhelm him.

"So, what, I've gone to the future?" Nick said, voice still muffled in Joe's shoulder. He turned his face in toward Joe's neck so he could breathe and talk better, and Joe shuddered, his breath sticking painfully in his chest. He buried a hand in Nick's hair, scratched at his head the way he'd used to do when Nick was littler, or sleepy and didn't mind so much being touched.

"Or come from the past," Joe said, huffing a little laugh, "from my point of view, anyway. How did you get here? Were you, like, doing something unusual? Chalk circles and candles on the ground? I told you to quit with the seances, Nicholas..."

Nick punched him in the shoulder, none too gently. "Shut up, Joe, no, I was just. I walked through the door of my bedroom and into your living room. I assume this is, in fact, your living room and not your storage building?" He raised his head and looked around a little, pointedly. Joe snorted, finally, painfully, letting him go. He rubbed absently at his shoulder, still aching slightly from Nick's assault. Joe wondered if it would bruise. If he'd still have the bruise if this Nick disappeared. It would be proof that he'd been there, Joe thought.

"So I haven't quite got settled in yet. So sue me." Joe glanced guiltily around at the stacks of boxes shoved into corners, some of them open, their contents spilling out haphazardly. "Unpacking is my least favorite part."

"Well, that's not changed, at least." Nick put his hands in his pockets and just sort of looked at Joe, as if taking him in. "Wow. You're..."

"Old?" Joe raised his eyebrows, the corner of his lip twitching. Nick rolled his eyes a little.

"Not what I was going to say, but if you really want to wear the shoe that fits..."

"What were you going to say?" Joe pressed, curious now.

"I was going to say, you're different. In a good way, I mean. You look good." Nick looked him over again, putting out his hands to Joe's shoulders, digging his fingers in a little, like he was taking the measurement of him and feeling that he was real. "I wouldn't have guessed you're thirty-five. Thirty maybe."

Joe pursed his mouth. "Gee, thanks, Nicholas. Still over the hill in your opinion, right?"

"Well, yeah," Nick said, grinning. "But you've always been over the hill."

"Ahahaha, oh Nicholas, oh, you slay me," he drawled, unimpressed. Nick just grinned harder. Joe felt an old, long-buried instinct to put him in a headlock and give him a noogie. He hadn't done that in years, but seeing his brother as a teenager again, pale and so young-looking, brought back the old, familiar itch in his muscles to touch Nick any way he could.

Instead, he reached out and put his own hands on Nick's shoulders, mirroring him with a smile. "Well now you're stuck with a really old me. Whatever shall you do? I will force you to eat bran flakes and drink prune juice."

"Hey, I like bran flakes," Nick pointed out. Then his face fell a little, and Joe could see how drawn he looked, around the eyes. He didn't know what time it had been in the day Nick had left behind, but here it was almost midnight. Joe hadn't really noticed. Nick looked like he could use some sleep, though. "I guess..." Nick said, pushing his hands a little farther into the pockets of his peacoat (he'd still had that coat, Joe realized, though he hadn't worn it in a while). "I guess I'm gonna have to try to figure out some way to get back. I don't...I have no idea where to start." He looked up at Joe with a tight mouth and big eyes. "Can I. Can I stay with you?"

Joe blinked. "Nick, of course. What, did you think I would throw you out on the streets of Manhattan?" Joe rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't let you go anywhere else."

"Oh, is that where we are?" Nick asked with renewed interest, looking around again at Joe's place and then moving to the window behind the sofa. He kneeled on the couch cushion and twitched open the miniblinds to look out over the crowded street. "Dude, why are you in New York?"

"I work here, duh," Joe said, laughing and perching on the arm of the sofa next to where Nick peered out the window, slashes of light from streetlamps painting his face in the dimness of the living room's one lit lamp. Joe didn't really want to be any farther from Nick right then than he absolutely had to be without sitting in his lap. And that was only because Nick would complain if he did sit in his lap. "I manage our label now. We have an office here."

Nick's eyebrows shot up and he visibly struggled not to smile. "You manage our label? Joseph 'What savings account?' Jonas?"

Joe wrinkled his nose. "I have actually learned how not to spend money in the last fifteen years, thank you very much. Try not to have a heart attack." He paused, then relented. "I co-manage, actually. Kev mans the L.A. office."

"Oh, okay, it all becomes clear now." Nick smiled smugly and flopped onto the sofa, leaning against Joe's knee and looking up at him curiously. "What do I do now?"

Joe's heart slammed to an abrupt halt in his chest. He felt almost like he was choking on it. "Y-you...just finished your master's degree, actually," he managed, but his voice sounded tight and strange even to him. He couldn't look at Nick, focused on the texture of his own weatherbeaten jeans, instead.

"Really? What in?" Nick didn't seem to notice Joe acting weird. Joe stole a look at him and saw just how tired he really looked, this close. Whatever accidental time travel involved, it must really take it out of a person. Joe supposed he had that to thank for Nick not being quite on his game. It just made him feel worse, really.

"Music," Joe said, his eyes unfocusing as he remembered Nick's graduations. He'd been so proud of himself. Joe had been fucking ecstatic. He laughed a little, swallowing around it uncomfortably. "What else?"

"Where do I live?"

"You..." Joe rubbed at his eyes with both hands. He suddenly felt like lying down and never getting back up, but Nick's weight was warm against him. Joe didn't think he was ever going to let Nick stop touching him now. "You're in Dallas," he said, his voice scratchy. He reached out his hand and curled it over the back of Nick's neck, giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it's late. You look tired."

"Yeah. I'm..." He looked up at Joe, his face raw and open. "Why am I here, Joe? I shouldn't be here. I don't know how I got here. How am I gonna get back?"

Joe shook his head. "I don't know, Nicky. Not yet. But we'll figure it out. I promise." He leaned down and kissed the top of Nick's head, something he never did when he was twenty and Nick was seventeen. It felt right to do now, though. "We won't get anything done while we're exhausted though. You should sleep."

"Yeah," Nick repeated, nodding. He sighed a little, patting at the couch. "At least you have a comfortable couch, right?"

Frowning, Joe opened his mouth to ask Nick why in the world he'd sleep on the couch instead of in the bed with Joe. And then he remembered who he was talking to. He winced a little, then cleared his face and managed a smile instead. "It cost like almost three thousand bucks, it'd better be comfortable."

Nick laughed. "Learned how not to spend money, huh, Joseph?"

"Let me get you some pillows and blankets, Nicholas, you're clearly exhausted and starting to babble." Joe slipped off the arm of the couch, reluctantly losing contact with Nick. But then he felt Nick's short, blunt fingers around his wrist, tugging him back.

"Joe," he said softly. Joe blinked down at him. Nick smiled, weak but sincere. "Thanks."

Joe turned his hand over and squeezed gently at Nick's arm. "Anytime, Nicky. You know that."

***

By the time Nick woke up, Joe had already gone to bed, rolled around fitfully for four hours, and gotten up again. Normally he would have gone to the gym, maybe grabbed breakfast from the coffee shop up the street (maybe not). He might have gone into the office. But he was unwilling to leave Nick, or really even let him out of his sight. It had been harder than he would have expected it to be even to leave Nick in the living room while he went to sleep in his bedroom; Joe just wanted to stay close enough to make sure Nick didn't just vanish. If he was a delusion, a hallucination of some kind, Joe wanted to know if he disappeared.

And if he was really here...if he was really here, Joe didn't want him just slipping back through whatever hole in the world he'd accidentally found. He needed to hold onto him for a little while, even if just to turn around and say goodbye.

Joe took a long shower instead, telling himself it was invigorating, and then quietly went into the kitchen to see if he could rustle up breakfast. He could glance through to the living room every now and again, reassure himself Nick was still there, a blanket-wrapped lump on his couch. Joe made eggs and mixed some yogurt and fruit, wishing he was a little better prepared for taking care of his little brother, that he'd at least gone grocery shopping this week; even so, when Nick came into the kitchen a little while after sunup, wrapped in his blanket and still heavy-eyed and flushed from sleep, he peered approvingly at his plate of eggs as Joe handed it to him. Nick smiled sleepily at him, and Joe passed his hand through Nick's unruly fluff of curls, soft and disorganized and flattened on one side from his pillow.

"Mornin', little-little brother," Joe said, grinning at Nick's soft expression. God, he just looked so young. All of Joe's emotions and feelings for that Nick were getting jumbled with the ones he had for his own, and he just felt ridiculously protective of him.

They sat and ate breakfast in companionable silence. Joe liked the change he could feel in his apartment, just having Nick sitting in it quietly, chewing his eggs. It wasn't quiet like it had been before.

"Don't forget to check your levels," Joe said, taking a sip of orange juice. It had been years since he'd had to actually tell Nick that, mostly because Nick got huffy when he was assumed not to be one hundred percent on top of his diabetes, but it occurred to Joe that maybe in the shock of it all, of traveling through time or whatever, Nick might have forgotten to do it. He hadn't last night before bed. It further occurred to Joe, his eyes widening, that Nick probably didn't have any of his supplies on him.

The apologetic look Nick gave him confirmed him. "I...I didn't realize it, really, 'til after you'd gone to bed," he said, his hand drifting to the little connector on his stomach, invisible under his shirt. "I don't anything. Joe, I'm sorry." His expression was a mix of guilt and frustration. Joe touched at Nick's wrist, tapping it to make sure he had his attention.

"Nick. You're my brother. You know I'll do whatever you need." He knew Nick hated ever feeling helpless, which was a position his condition put him in sometimes despite his very best efforts. Joe smiled at him and rubbed at his knuckles briefly. He wasn't going to let Nick be sorry, not about this. "Here," he said, getting up, his chair creaking. He went to the fridge and pulled out a small box, half-full with little mini-bottles of insulin made for a pump. Plucking one out, he turned back to see Nick watching him, looking surprised and rubbing at his knuckles where Joe's fingers had been.

"You keep insulin in your apartment?" he asked, taking the little bottle when Joe slid it across to him. "I thought you said I live in Texas."

Joe shrugged, rubbing at his mouth and picking uninterestedly at the last few bites of egg on his plate. "You've visited. It's...y'know. Just in case."

He didn't look, but Joe could tell Nick was smiling down at his yogurt. "Right. Thanks, Joe."

Nick showered and dressed in some of Joe's older clothes, still a little loose in the leg and tight across the shoulders, and they went out to buy a new blood sugar monitor. Joe quietly marveled at how different this Nick looked in his clothes; his Nick would had filled them out differently. His Nick's hair would have been a little longer, curling down over the collar of his twill coat. Still, this Nick was identical in fundamental ways: his gait, the way he held himself. The quirk of his mouth when he turned to look back over at Joe and the way he'd wait for Joe's slightly shorter stride to catch him up. It made everything in Joe constrict painfully. This was his Nick, the same Nick, just missing a few years' experience. It hurt some, having a Nick who didn't really know Joe as he was, but then, he knew Joe as he had been. And Joe hadn't changed much in the ways that mattered, either.

Nick was a little awed by the state of blood sugar monitors fifteen years on, looking at the shelf of them at the drugstore with a stunned expression that made Joe smile and feel ever-so-slightly smug.

"You mean...I don't have to draw blood anymore?" Nick asked quietly as he turned one of the boxes over in his hands. He glanced around surreptitiously to make sure no one overheard him being so obviously out of touch, but at this hour on a Saturday morning, they and the bored-looking clerk were the only people in the store.

"Nope," Joe said, grinning. "You just rub off the top layer of a little patch of skin and put the sticky on it. It reads your bodily fluids." Joe wiggled his eyebrows and stressed "bodily fluids" for maximum suggestiveness. Nick rolled his eyes dramatically. Joe laughed and continued, "It doesn't even hurt. Big You used this for ages, though you were trying out a new prototype one last time we talked." He pretended to be incredibly interested in one of the other boxes until he could clear his throat and school his face. "You get all kinds of freebies from the company you're spokesperson for, because Nick J is a pimp."

Nick laughed a startled little laugh, punching Joe in the arm. "I'm a spokesperson? Really?"

"Why do you think research has gotten as far as it has?" Joe asked lightly, smiling and feeling proud in every cell. He pulled down the skin prep wand from its place higher up on the shelf and bumped his hip gently into Nick's. "You're like, the hot Wilford Brimley, Nicholas. Only you can say 'diabetes' right. And we've got a ton of money to donate to science and stuff. You've been on like half a dozen committees and boards and stuff, done commercials. A magazine did an article about you last year, said you could be the reason diabetes tech's advance so much in the last five years."

Nick smiled huge, blushing and looking down at the boxes in his and his brother's hands. Joe couldn't remember very well what Nick's monitor had looked like fifteen years ago, but he wondered what these must look like to Nick, whether they looked futuristic to him. He hummed the first few bars of "Year 3000" and Nick burst out laughing, leaning heavily against Joe's side.

***

Nick was picking around aimlessly on one of Joe's guitars, quiet and subdued where he sat tucked into one corner of the couch, when he paused and raised his head to look at Joe. "Hey! We should call me!"

Joe, who had been idly trying to read through a script while mostly just listening to Nick play, glanced up at him, startled. "What?" he asked, pretending not to know exactly what Nick had said, and be trying to avoid answering.

Nick's grin was big and wicked, a look Joe had always loved on him, in no small part for its rarity. "We should totally Skype me. In Dallas. I will have a heart attack."

Refusing to let that comment change his expression, Joe chewed on his pen and thought fast. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" he stalled.

"Absolutely," Nick replied, setting aside his guitar and cocking his head at Joe. "I would think this was totally weird and cool and I think I'd want to meet me. I do want to meet me. Old me." He grinned smugly, clearly trying to rib Joe. Joe wished more than anything he could enjoy it, play back. No, that wasn't true; the one thing he wished more was that they really could call up his brother and scare the daylights out of him, just to see his face (all confused and vaguely affronted that the universe had gone so insane on his watch).

Suddenly the perfect excuse came to Joe. He shook his head. "What if you can't meet yourself or the world blows up? Like, what if it really fucks up space-time or something?"

Nick cocked an eyebrow at him. "Space-time? Joe, is that a script for another Star Trek revival?"

"Hey, you're the one here from fifteen years ago, dude, so I don't think you should talk. I don't really wanna mess up the timeline any worse than it might already be." He gave Nick a genuinely apologetic smile. "Sorry, Nicky. Not sure we should risk it."

Deflating a little, Nick worried at his lip. "Well..." he said, then brightened again, a little. "Can I see a picture of me, now? I just wanna know what I look like."

Joe couldn't quite stop himself flinching. "I dunno, Nick," he said, ducking his head and focusing very hard on his script again. "I think you look pretty much the same. Your hair's longer now."

"Joe. Come on. I just want to see a picture. You've already basically told me everything about myself, you're not gonna do any worse damage to the timeline or whatever by letting me see what I look like." Nick's glare would almost have been endearing if Joe didn't feel like a deer caught in headlights. He flopped his script onto the table with unnecessary force and rubbed at his eyes, afraid to look at Nick.

"I...I think my albums are all still in boxes," he lied. "I'll...go dig one up for you. Gimme a minute."

Levering himself out of the chair, Joe went into his room and pushed the door shut behind him. The only light in the room was what filtered through from behind the closed blinds. Joe went to his rumpled bed and sat heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

His fat photo albums, crammed full of as many pictures of his life that he could fit in between the covers, lay buried in his closet under shoeboxes and bedclothes. He'd put them there intentionally when he moved in, stranding them in a weird limbo between "in sight" and "packed away," with the intention of not looking at them more than he absolutely had to. Of course, he pulled them out at least once a week, more if the week had been particularly bad, and keeping them there, close and easy to get to but deceptively out of sight, allowed him to pretend he was "moving on" as Kevin kept exhorting him in every email and phone call he'd made since Joe moved to New York. It was a step forward, he'd told himself and his mother and brothers, from lying curled on his bed with the albums clutched to his chest. Only Joe knew that couldn't be further from the truth.

He couldn't actually find a good excuse not to show Nick. Joe didn't really believe any crap about the space-time continuum, of course, no matter how many freaky sci-fi movies he'd seen. If he'd been able to, he'd already be on his laptop Skype-calling Nick so that the two incarnations of him could stare their fill at each other across fifteen years.

Of course, were Joe capable of doing that, he wouldn't have needed to call Nick at all. Nick would be right here. With him. Where he belonged.

A sob hitched in his throat like he'd taken a blow right to the breastbone. He couldn't do this. He'd have a panic attack if he tried. He just had to go out there and tell Nick...tell him the truth. Let him come dig out the albums himself, if he really wanted to see. Joe couldn't bear to see, not and keep it together in any way. He only ever got out the albums when he was at home, alone, with nowhere to be and enough alcohol to get him through to unconsciousness.

It took Joe a few minutes to get it together, to get his lungs and diaphragm all working in tandem again so he could actually breathe. He didn't like leaving Nicky alone for too long. That hurt almost as much as the thought of looking at pictures of his own Nick.

When he opened the door, Joe stepped out into the living room, but he didn't see Nick. Frowning, his heart racing suddenly, he hurried into the kitchen and heaved a shaky sigh of relief to see that Nick was there. And then he froze completely.

Nick had Joe's phone in his hand - it looked strange in the hand of a Nick that young, Joe noticed - and he was staring at it, mouth open slightly. There was a little fold between his eyebrows that deepened even as Joe looked. Then Joe noticed that Nick's hands were shaking.

"Nick," he said, his voice loud-sounding and too-full under the cold flourescent kitchen light. Nick raised his eyes to Joe's, looking as scared as he had when he'd appeared in Joe's living room.

"Your password," Nick said, and his voice was almost scarily calm, quiet and just a little bit guilty. "You're still using that same stupid password, Joe, didn't you learn anything after I broke into your diary?"

Joe swallowed past a dry throat. Maybe he hadn't seen...everything. Maybe he hadn't seen anything at all. (His eyes said different. He had seen something.) "It's...it's easy to remember," he said, lamely, not sure why he'd said it at all. "Nick, I told you I'd show you pictures, you didn't have to snoop in m--"

"'We're all just really worried, baby,'" Nick read from the little screen. Joe closed his eyes. Why did he never delete any text messages? Then again, his phone had been off for days, he'd sort of forgotten those messages from Mom were still on there. "'I don't want to lose you, too. I know I shouldn't think like that because your brother is with the Lord, now, but I would have done anything, anything in the world, to still have him here. I need you to still be with us. Your father and brothers need you, too, as much as Nick ever needed you. Don't shut us off now, not now. Please call me.'"

The quiet after Nick's voice stopped rang loud in Joe's ears. He didn't open his eyes until Nick said his name again, startling him badly.

"Joe, what happened?"

Joe couldn't have taken his eyes off Nick's now if he'd wanted to. "There was a car crash," he said, his voice colorless and sounding remarkably cold, even to him. "Dad was driving you to the airport. He...you guys were arguing, and he ran a stop sign, and this, this fucking Hummer t-boned the 'Stang." He'd dreamed the wreck a million times since then, though he hadn't been there or seen it. Hearing the description from the accident report had been more than enough for Joe's imagination to manage with. "It was a miracle dad lived. Because you were killed instantly."

Nick sucked in a breath, sharp, like he could physically feel that hurt, eight months later; his eyes were so huge they were all Joe could see. He was just quick enough to step forward and catch Nick as his knees buckled and he blacked out, heavy dead weight in Joe's arms.

***

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Joe murmured softly to the back of Nick's head. Nick lay curled and still on Joe's bed, facing the wall, but Joe knew he was awake, listening. The bed had been closer than the couch by a few feet, but mostly Joe hadn't even really thought about it. He had ended up laying Nick here and then huddling next to him hoping he'd come to soon (please wake up, please), and it was only after he'd done it that Joe realized Nick was in his bedroom now. Just having Nick in it filled the space up, made it seem like a room instead of a closet or a cell.

He'd opened his eyes and balled up a little tighter not even five minutes after Joe lay him there, and Joe had put out a hand and rested it along Nick's ribs, keeping his sanity by counting out the spaces between Nick's breaths. "I should've told you," he said, miserable, "but I had no idea how to do it. You shouldn't have had to know that."

Nick didn't say anything for almost a minute, and Joe just lay there breathing with him until Nick said in a voice that cracked, "Why? Cause it'd mess up the timeline?" His voice had no inflection, so Joe wasn't sure whether he was upset or trying to joke. He squeezed at Nick's side, feeling Nick flinch under his fingers as Joe inadvertently hit a tickle spot. Joe choked on a sound that was between a laugh and a sob; at thirty-two years old, Nick would still ball up and burst out laughing helplessly if Joe touched that spot, alternately begging Joe to stop and threatening him physical violence. He always acted so aggrieved afterward too, it was hilarious.

"No," Joe sighed out, shifting a little closer on the bed just to feel his brother's heat. "Because now you're sad."

"Sad?" Nick asked immediately, a little sharp. "I'm not sure that's how I'd put it. I'm dead."

Joe couldn't reply to that, stunned breathless. After a few seconds, Nick turned over and looked at him, clearly sorry he'd said it. "Joe, I'm...I just...what am I supposed to do now? Knowing that...and that's it, that's all. I know how much time I have, now, and it just...pisses me off," he continued, words faster with sudden heat, "that that's all the time I had. Think what else I could've done, with fifteen more years, or thirty. I could've lived to see my stupid disease cured. I could've...I could've seen Kev and Dani's daughter get married. Yeah, I saw her on your phone. How old is she? Like, twelve, thirteen? She's gorgeous, Joe, and I don't even know her and I'm proud of her and I'm gone, I won't get to see how she grows up, and..." Nick seemed unaware of the tears streaming down his face. Joe's heart couldn't possibly be more broken but his chest ached hollowly, as though it would have liked to try. He reached out and gathered Nick into his arms, pulling him in roughly and burying his nose in Nick's hair. Nick pressed his face into Joe's shoulder, soaking his t-shirt, even as he braced his arm against Joe's chest, almost as if pushing him away, or grappling with him. Joe didn't let him go; Nick's fingers curled tightly in the front of Joe's shirt and he shook Joe a little. "I need more time," he half-shouted, voice muffled but audibly rough. "That's not enough time for me to do everything I want to do, Joe, I can't live knowing I only have that much time left."

"I can't live," Joe replied simply, his voice husky and ruined, "knowing how much time I have left without you."

They lay there in tense silence, hands gripping each other too-tight, lost in their thoughts for long minutes. Nick's trembling breath finally steadied, his quiet, almost embarrassed sniffles subsiding. Joe wasn't sure if he felt more like the room was closing in around them or flying apart, leaving them in a wide, yawning space with no sound. If it were possible for both to be true, that's what he would have chosen.

Finally Nick's voice cracked the quiet. "I'm sorry, Joe. I'm sorry I'm not here. I wouldn't ever have left you if I'd had a choice."

His eyes slipping shut, Joe swallowed hard, hugging Nick to him a little tighter. This time Nick didn't resist at all, went when Joe pulled, burying himself in against his brother. Joe remembered times when Nick had been littler and something was wrong - mom and dad were fighting or one of his shows had gone badly somehow, things Nick had no control over and still felt responsible for - that he would come to Joe and hide in him like this. It hurt everywhere, like pain across Joe's skin, to remember all that, to be holding Nick now because something else had gone terribly wrong, and there was nothing in the world Nick could do about it.

"I know. Nick, I know. I don't...I've never blamed you. Dad, maybe a little, at first. Myself, all the time. Never you."

Nick shifted, trying to see Joe a little better but unwilling to raise his head from where it was tucked in the crook of Joe's neck. "Why do you blame you?"

Joe shrugged a tiny bit. "All the reasons you could think of. I should've been the one in the car, I shouldn't have let you go, I should've been with you." He took a deep, unsteady breath. "And you and dad were arguing about me."

Nick's silence was a prompt for Joe to elaborate. He sighed out the breath he'd taken.

"Just...he was mad because I really hadn't 'done anything with my life' yet - acting, of course, not even on his radar as a viable career path - and he wanted to know how long you were going to let me get away with it. He thought we spent too much time together. He said I was mooching off your success, holding you back. I'd gotten the same lecture like a month before."

"How do you know that's what we were arguing about?"

"I overheard him tell mom later. I took my job here, after that. He can't say I'm a do-nothing now, I guess."

Nick squeezed Joe's arm, almost tight enough to hurt. "I would never have thought that about you," he said, voice steely. Joe laughed a watery little laugh.

"No, I know you wouldn't. Even if you should have, you wouldn't. And you didn't, as far as I know." Joe pressed his face to Nick's neck, kissing there wearily. "I miss you so much," he whispered, choked. "And now you're here, and I...I have to send you back again. Somehow. I know you can't stay, but..." He couldn't finish. He'd always been the most selfish when it came to Nick. He knew he couldn't ask Nick to stay, but he also knew he didn't actually want to let him leave.

"Joe," Nick said after a long minute, voice soft and tired-sounding. He rubbed his thumb absently against Joe's bicep. "Did we live together?" Joe didn't say anything, and Nick huffed. "You can't just keep extra insulin around for when I 'visited,' Joe. It would have had to be what was...left. Of my prescription. When I died."

It took Joe a moment to decide what to say. In the end, he couldn't find the energy to lie about it. "Yeah. We, um. We had a place here in the city, actually. Not here. It was nicer than this," he joked weakly, closed his eyes and tried not to think about it when he said, "I was in no state to pack or move, but I couldn't stay in the apartment. I just hired some guys, and they packed up everything. Including what was in my fridge at the time."

Nick didn't ask but Joe thought he probably knew: Joe hadn't been able to throw the medicine away, once he'd found it in the fridge in his new place. It was pathetic. Joe was glad Nick didn't ask.

"I'm glad you still had it," Nick murmured. "Or I'd have been screwed now."

Joe laughed a little. "I'd have figured something out. I wouldn't have let you be sick."

Nick nodded a little against Joe's shoulder. "I know you would." He slid his hand up and curled it over the back of Joe's neck, rasping over his stubble. (When was the last time Joe had shaved? He thought maybe he had, yesterday morning, but he couldn't really remember.) "Joe?"

"Yeah, Nicky."

"What were we? You and me, I mean."

Joe stilled, not sure what Nick was asking. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice crowding the small, warm space between them.

Nick turned his face up a little, his lips skimming at the soft spot under Joe's jaw when he spoke. "I saw a picture of me on your phone. I was in bed, I wasn't wearing anything..." His voice faltered a little. "It...was it just a joke?"

Joe had taken that picture on one of the rare mornings he was up before Nick was. It was just a shot of Nick, still asleep, in the blue before-dawn. He'd overtaken most of the bed while Joe was in the shower, one arm dangling over the edge and one leg thrown out from under the thin sheet which was the only thing covering his bare ass. Joe had told Nick later that he'd only taken the picture for blackmail purposes, and Nick had smiled, blushing, knowing just how full of shit Joe was.

He couldn't lie to Nick. He should. He should tell Nick now what he'd told Nick then, that it was just to see the look on Nick's face when he saw it. But it wouldn't be true, and Joe thought Nick would know it wasn't true. He couldn't lie about that to him.

"No. It wasn't a joke," he whispered. He felt Nick's breath catch, the cold draw of it across Joe's skin in contrast to Nick's warm mouth. Joe kissed Nick's shoulder, made himself sit up and pull away from Nick's arms and his heat. Nick made an unhappy sound, but before he could say anything, Joe patted his leg, squeezing it a little. "I'm gonna go make dinner."

"Joe," Nick said, sitting up and staring at him. Joe just looked back at him, steadily. Waiting to see what he'd do. Eventually the stiffness went out of his shoulders and he smiled a little. "I'll come help."

***

Joe made broccoli casserole for dinner - Nick's favorite comfort food - and they briefly debated what they were going to do about getting Nick back home, until the conversation died out. Neither of them really had any ideas. Nick ate his food and Joe picked at his, and then Nick made Joe let him do the dishes even though Joe argued with him.

"What if," Nick said suddenly, pausing in the middle of washing a steamer basket and looking over his shoulder at Joe, "I'm here because you don't have your Nick? What if I'm not supposed to go back?"

Joe frowned a little. Much as he didn't want Nick to leave, he hadn't considered the thought he might be there to stay. "That seems...wrong," he mused. "You don't belong here. Not," he added quickly, leaning back in his chair and smiling over at Nick, "that I want you to leave. But if you stay, then what happens to your family in your time?" What happens to your Joe? "They shouldn't have to hurt, too." He shook his head. "It isn't really logical."

Nick shot him a look. "Joe, I've time-traveled to 2025. Why are you worried about logic?"

"Well, yeah, but it should make some kind of sense, right? Time doesn't just open up to trade people around. If you stayed here, everything would be even more out of balance. I'd think the world would want to put things back in balance."

Nick sighed. "This isn't the movies, Joe," he replied after a moment, going back to scrubbing their few dishes.

Joe didn't answer. He was unwilling to believe this wasn't something he could fix. So much in his life had been out of his control, but if he could find a way to send Nick home, he would do it. He wasn't going to hurt his family - and himself - twice. Losing Nick in the wreck had crushed what little faith in God Joe still had; he'd spent months blaming Him before finally just leaving Him behind, because it was easier to believe that He just didn't exist than it was to think He had been there and could have let Nick live, and had simply chosen callously to take him away. Joe wasn't going to be that hateful creature who chose to steal Nick from those who loved him.

"I'm sorry I can't think of any way to get you back, yet," Joe told him as Nick drained the sink and dried his hands on a dishtowel. He stood and curled an arm around Nick's neck, pulling him in and hugging him close. "I promise I'll think of something soon."

For a moment Nick seemed stunned, his heat-pinked hands dangling uselessly at his sides. Then he slid them up Joe's back and dug his fingers into the meat of Joe's shoulders. He laughed a little.

"Joe, I don't expect you to fix everything," he said quietly.

"I know," Joe replied, his lip quirking sadly as he stepped back, all reluctant to let him go. "But I do."

Joe didn't realize Nick had followed him into his bedroom until he looked up from where he was brushing his teeth at the sink and saw Nick in the mirror, leaning in the doorway watching him. "Can I stay with you tonight?" he asked quietly. Joe could barely hear him over the running water. He rinsed his mouth out and dropped his toothbrush loudly into the cup next to Nick's brand-new one. His heart was pounding but he refused to acknowledge it. "It's just," Nick said quickly, as if anticipating an argument, "I don't...I really don't want to be alone." His voice was small and he rubbed at one arm nervously. He looked painfully like a kid. "But I mean, I get it. If. If you'd rather I not."

Drying his mouth and his hands, Joe managed a smile at Nick in the mirror, even though his hands were shaking. "Nick. Anything you need, I already told you. Besides," he added, turning and flipping off the light, cupping Nick's face briefly with one hand, almost just a pat on the cheek. "I don't really want to be alone, either."

Nick brushed his teeth and padded quietly around the room after, stepping out of his jeans and folding them neatly, laying them across one of the unpacked boxes in the corner. Then he crawled under the covers Joe held up for him, rocking and dipping the bed; Joe felt dizzy with the movements, things he'd wanted to feel for months and months, had even felt sometimes in his dreams. It was such a little thing, and it knocked the wind out of him for several long seconds, even after Nick had settled in on his side.

"Night, Joe," his voice came into the darkness, soft and sleepy. Joe smiled a little into his pillow.

"Night, Nicky. I love you."

"Love you too." Nick's voice ended on an uptick, like he wanted to say something else, but then he didn't, and all Joe could hear was the sound of his breathing, slowly evening and lengthening until he knew Nick was asleep.

Joe couldn't sleep. Normally he probably wouldn't have gone to bed this early, or he'd have gotten up and done some more work until his eyes felt sandy and rough from insomnia. His sleep pattern had been out of whack for months, ever since a very long period of sleeplessness that had required medication just for Joe to get enough rest not to hallucinate. (Though his dreams were so bad when he did sleep he sometimes thought he would have preferred the hallucinations.) He would be lucky to get four hours a night, these days, no matter what he tried. Besides the normal causes of his restlessness, however, just feeling the bed weighed down on the other side and knowing Nick was there, an arm's reach away, made him vibrate with suppressed tension. It was all he could think about, that Nick was there, and to a very great part of him it just didn't matter that it wasn't his Nick, not the Nick who had slept with him every night for the last twelve years. It was Nick, and it felt like Nick and smelled like Nick, and Joe just felt so fucking gutted he could barely breathe. He didn't realize he was going to cry until the tears welled over and he couldn't stop them; he covered his eyes with his hand and just tried to be quiet about it. Nick needed to rest.

Nick's hand on his shoulder startled Joe so much he actually jumped, hiccuping a sob and trying to wipe his eyes surreptitiously. "Joe? Are you okay?"

"I'm, I'm fine, Nick, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You're shaking. Are you crying?" Nick scooted closer, tugged on Joe's shoulder until he was turned onto his back, where Nick could look at him through the scant street light coming in around the blinds. Joe didn't resist, even when Nick crowded up in his space and touched at his cheeks, still damp with tears. "Joe," Nick breathed, sounding a little broken. Joe shuddered and pressed his face to Nick's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, but didn't manage any more than that, because Nick turned his face in, coaxing at Joe's cheek with his nose until he could catch Joe's mouth with his own. Joe gasped, and Nick just went in further, got them lined up so he could kiss Joe properly. It was wet and salty with Joe's tears and Nick's tongue slicking into his mouth, and Joe just opened up for it, couldn't find it in himself to break it off like he knew that he should. He curled a fist in the front of Nick's t-shirt and hung onto him for dear life, kissing him desperately until Nick made a high sound that snapped Joe back to reality. He groaned and dropped his forehead back to Nick's shoulder, breathing hard and crying again. God, he couldn't keep it together for two seconds.

"Joe, shh," Nick soothed, smoothing a hand up Joe's back. He hugged Joe gently and Joe eventually caught his breath, swallowing thickly.

"Nick. Please don't."

"Why?" Nick asked in a whisper. "Because you don't want me to, or because you think I shouldn't?"

"No," Joe sighed, his heavy exhale almost a laugh, bitter. "Because I can't just kiss you. Because what I want from you you're not ready to give."

"How do you know what I'm ready for?" he asked, voice a challenge, and that really did make Joe smile.

"No, Nick, that isn't what I--"

"How do you know," Nick pressed, more softly, "that I don't want that too?"

Joe sucked air through his teeth. "Nick. I...can't, I shouldn't. You're...you've never done this before. I'm not gonna make you--"

"You'll take care of me," Nick murmured, touching at Joe's mouth, his tone almost awed. "You always have. I know I'm not...not your Nick, I'm not the Nick you miss, but..."

Joe clutched harder at Nick's shirt, biting at his neck just a little, just enough that Nick's voice died in his throat. "I miss you," he very nearly growled, voice hoarse with tears. "I miss every part of you."

"I'm right here," Nick murmured, crawling up a little, kissing Joe fleetingly. "I'm not going anywhere."

When he kissed Joe again, it was determined, and Joe didn't stop him. He tugged on Nick until he had him stretched out on top of him, comforting weight and heat that Joe could feel down in his marrow. This Nick was so young, inexperienced and overeager, much like the way Joe could remember him being back when they were just starting this. He kissed with enthusiasm and very little idea of what he was doing, and Joe took him gently by the chin, slowing his movements down with his own lips and tongue, turning his head this way and that to get at him from every angle, slow, relearn him. Nick was trembling by the time Joe pulled back, and Joe could feel the weight and thickness of his hard-on, tucked up along Joe's thigh. He was so responsive. Joe wished there was more light in here so he could see the flush on Nick's face and the look in his eyes, but he could imagine it almost as clearly. Joe dragged his thumb down over Nick's soft, damp bottom lip, and Nick shivered against him.

"Were you my first, Joe?" he asked as Joe kissed his cheek, just under his eye, trailing his nose down the side of Nick's. Joe pulled back a little and looked up at him.

"I think so, yeah." He smiled a little, shakily. "You never told me that for sure, but that was always what I thought."

Nick nodded a little, bit his lip, then asked, quieter, "Was I yours?"

Joe shuddered again, hugged Nick so hard. "Yes," he said simply, and felt Nick's hands tighten in his shirt.

He lay Nick out on the bed and undressed him, Nick self-conscious until Joe kissed him again. He went pliant and trembling as Joe kissed down his body, taking his time. He knew it was late, and Nick must be tired, but he wasn't going to rush this, for both their sakes. Maybe it was greedy, but Joe hadn't felt so completely awake and present in his body since the wreck. He was terrified of having to return to that twilight state, walking around like a shell of a person. He wanted this alive-ness to last.

Nick groaned and twisted his hands in the bedclothes as Joe took him in his mouth, slowly pulling him in. He felt a little different than Joe was used to, but he tasted exactly the same. Joe closed his eyes and remembered the first time he ever did this to Nick, in a hotel room in Cleveland on their last tour as the Jonas Brothers. Kevin's daughter had just been born, so they'd all decided it was time to call it quits, and Nick hadn't really been dealing well, had been afraid about what he'd do when he didn't have the band left. He'd still had the Administration, of course, but Joe understood it wouldn't be the same for him. Nothing was going to be the same. It had felt right to change them, then. It could have made Nick feel even more lost, but Joe had understood instinctively that it wouldn't. It would make them permanent, and give Nick a solid footing on which to start figuring out everything else.

This was as different from that as it was possible to be, but Nick was almost exactly the same, young and new and wanting so much and not knowing how to direct it, and Joe could remember all the little bits and flashes of this Nick learning how to do this, over the years. Joe had taught them all to him, or learned them together with him. He knew how Nick would be, in a few years, how quick he would pick this up and become amazing at it. It was like seeing cel images laid on top of one another, so that Joe could see everything Nick was and would be. And he loved every single different Nick so much it made him dizzy.

He drew it out, sucking Nick's cock with careful attention, doing everything slow so Nick could really feel it. Nick buried his hands in Joe's hair and made sounds almost like crying, sounds knew Nick only made when he felt completely out of control, strung out beyond thinking. Joe could tell when Nick was close, pulled back so that when he came, in long, hard pulses, Nick could watch himself shooting off into Joe's open mouth.

He held Nick after that for a long time, Nick drifting in and out of consciousness as his breathing evened out again and he gradually came down. Joe thought perhaps he might fall asleep, but after a little while - a surprisingly short time, Joe had forgotten what it was like to bounce back so fast - Nick roused up, flinging his leg over Joe's hip and kissing him again, already getting the hang of how to move and fit their bodies together. He wormed a hand down and pulled Joe out of his boxers, gasping when he touched him.

"You okay?" Joe murmured against his lips, sucking them lightly. Nick nodded, swallowing audibly.

"Y-you're big," he said. He sounded so young when he said it that Joe wanted to laugh and just hug him to pieces, but then he gave Joe an experimental squeeze and Joe's breath huffed out. "I wondered what you'd be like."

Joe stared at him, although Nick was looking down at his hand, now, as he got a good grip on Joe and started stroking. "You did?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Yeah." Nick glanced up, smiled at Joe, his teeth bright in the darkness. "Thought it was just me."

Joe groaned and kissed Nick again, working his boxers down and off. "Definitely not just you," he murmured, tugging off his shirt. "Hasn't been as long as I've known what this was." Nick crawled half on top of him, getting into the rhythm of working Joe's dick, his hand warm and callused and so achingly familiar. Joe touched him everywhere, running his hands over all of Nick's smooth, young skin. He nearly glowed in the vague light, his dark hair melting with the rest of the darkness and his eyes glittering as he watched Joe to see how he was doing. Nick was warm and heavy and alive. Just having him this close made Joe's breath catch and his cock go wet.

"'S good, Nicky," he said, cupping Nick's face in his hands and drawing him down, kissing his soft, slack mouth. "So good."

"Joe," Nick sighed out, like reassuring himself. "Do you want...inside me?"

Joe bit gently on Nick's lip. "I want what you want. I just want you."

Nick's hands faltered on Joe and he let go completely. Joe bit back a groan, but then Nick was burrowing in close, his hips rutting up against Joe's and his hands clinging to Joe's shoulders. He was hard again, and the friction was maddening. "I want you to," he gasped, sucking on Joe's neck a little. "I want you to."

"Okay." They stayed like that for a few minutes more, just kissing and clinging, Joe unwilling to break away, to let Nick go. When Nick made a little desperate sound, Joe finally rolled them over, fumbling in his dresser drawer for the half-empty, little-used bottle of lube he'd put there ages ago for the rare occasions he got himself off. He so seldom had the energy or will for it; it was awful to do it alone, when he knew what he was missing.

He opened Nick up painfully slow, Nick gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into Joe's arms while Joe hushed him, kissed at his mouth and neck until Nick slowly relented. Joe shook with held-back need, Nick's body around his fingers so tight, pulling at him, almost. When Joe got the right angle, Nick's knees dropped open and his head fell back, his entire body suddenly willing. He murmured a string of almost inaudible encouragement, yesjoethereohgodmorepleasewantyou, and when he started rocking himself down on Joe's fingers, Joe knew he was ready.

Nick gasped and scratched inadvertently at Joe's back as he slid in, bigger than his fingers and as slow as he could manage. Joe could see Nick consciously trying to relax, brow creased and eyes closed in concentration, and Joe wrapped his hand around Nick's cock and worked him gently until Nick's face smoothed out, blank with shock and arousal. Joe sank in all the way, a tremor ripping through him, making them both groan.

"Nicky," he choked, his chest tight, as he held himself still and felt Nick's muscles shifting around him.

"Yeah, Joe," Nick breathed, eyes slitting open to look at him. "Yeah." He wrapped his legs up around Joe's hips and his mouth fell open as the angle changed. Joe moved against him and Nick nodded frantically. So Joe nodded back, kissing him, and moved again.

Nick's body seemed to know, now, like muscle memory he'd never had, and Joe fit inside him perfectly, so that they worked together as easily as breathing. Joe kissed Nick for as long as he could until he couldn't keep it up, tucking his face to Nick's throat and blinking out the tears in his eyes. Nick shuddered and held onto Joe tight, arms squeezing around his neck like he was afraid Joe was the one who would disappear. Joe spoke I love you into Nick's skin until he could hear Nick mumbling it, chanting it like a prayer even as he came again hot and wet between them, and Joe pressed inside, as close and deep as he could get, unraveling, coming inside his brother the way he had done a hundred thousand times, and none of them quite like this. Then he just held onto Nick with shaking hands and silently begged the darkness to let it make him whole again.

***

Joe woke up hours later feeling disoriented but unutterably content. It was almost a full minute before memory of the world crashed into him and the old, dull pain settled heavily over his limbs like a blanket. But for that minute, the longest interval Joe could remember experiencing after waking since Nick had died, he was happy and warm and tangled with his brother and the world was completely right.

He didn't move, not wanting to wake Nick, except to very slowly and gently card his fingers through his hair. He missed it longer; he'd always preferred more of Nick's hair to less, even though more tended to make him look a little younger, which Nick hated. Joe loved it, love burying his fingers and his face in it, feel the soft curls tickle his face. He smiled absently, petting this younger Nick's shorter hair, plucking at curls until they were straightened out and then releasing them to flop back against the rest of the mass of them.

Nick grumbled softly from the vicinity of Joe's right nipple, shifting and raising his mussed-up head to blink sleepily and flush-faced at Joe. Joe grinned down at him lazily and Nick returned the smile, snuggling his face back against Joe's chest.

"Mornin'," he slurred, squeezing at Joe's hip. Joe suddenly remembered they were naked; he slid his hand down and groped at Nick's ass, making him jump. Joe laughed.

"G'morning to you, too," he replied. "You sleep okay?"

Nick hummed an affirmative and seemed disinclined to move. Joe was dozing off again when Nick murmured, "Time is it?"

Joe reached out to nudge his alarm clock around so he could see the face. He blinked, surprised. "Whoa. Almost eleven." He rubbed his face, looked again. Yep, still the same. "I haven't slept this late in..." His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "A while."

Nick patted at his side, propping his chin on Joe's chest and grinning up at him. "Well, you were probably pretty tired out. Can't expect you to have as much stamina as someone half your age."

Joe spluttered, indignant, but Nick was crawling up and sliding out of bed before he could gather a witty retort. Nick winced a little as he pulled his boxers (a borrowed pair of Joe's boxers) back on, walking just a little bit gingerly toward the bathroom. Joe had to stifle a snicker.

"I'm not sure I'd talk so much about stamina, Nicholas," he called after him.

"Shut up, Joe," Nick grunted back. He reappeared a few seconds later, rubbing sleepily at his eyes, and Joe reached out from under the blankets and hauled him back in, kissing him soundly until Nick's mouth was faintly swollen and his cheeks flushed red. He looked up at Joe with heavy-lidded eyes and Joe smiled at him, trailing his fingers down his soft cheek.

"Are you okay, really?" he asked quietly, slipping his other hand down and tucking it up under one leg of Nick's shorts. Nick shifted a little, his legs opening a little, and Joe traced tiny circles on the inside of his thigh.

"Yeah," Nick sighed, closing and opening his eyes once, hazily. "Hurts a little, but it's okay."

Joe nodded. "I'm sorry it hurt."

"I'm not. I like feeling it." Nick flushed a little more. "It's like...remembering it."

Joe smiled, lighting up a little. God, Nick was so new at this and shy, but he wouldn't stay that way for long. Joe almost envied his younger self for a minute, getting to learn all this with Nick all over again and see him grow and change.

"C'mon," he said, squeezing gently at Nick's thigh. "Let's get cleaned up and I'll make you some breakfast."

Joe's shower was too small for two people, really, but that just gave them an excuse to stand too close, kiss too much. Nick shivered and lost his balance a little when Joe gently brushed soap-slick fingers against his hole; he put out his hands to brace himself against the cold tile wall and hung his head down between them, water weighing down his curls. Joe kissed between his shoulderblades and washed him carefully everywhere, pulling lazily at his hardened dick until he came, trembling and gasping Joe's name.

They dried off and dressed together and then Joe made omelets while Nick checked his levels at the kitchen table. He was totally enamored of his newfangled meter and had already despaired of having to leave it behind when he went back to his time. He got up to look at the little carton of insulin in the fridge, carefully counting out the bottles.

"I guess there's maybe...a month and a half's worth, in here," he said, when Joe looked over at him quizzically. "If I'm here that long...I'll have to figure out some way of getting more."

Joe sobered, nodding as he slid Nick's food onto a plate and put it and a cup of coffee on the table for him. "Any bright ideas? All I'm coming up with right now is 'knock over a CVS and raid the pharmacy.'"

Nick put the box back in the fridge and sat down at the table again, packing away his testing stuff into the boxes they'd come in. "Suppose I could try to get a job at a clinic or a vet's office." He smirked. "And raid their pharmacy."

"I think we want to be moving toward a solution that does not involve theft," Joe replied, sipping coffee. "'Course, we may end up having to steal an identity for you just to get you a job."

"Nah, think more sophisticated, Joe," Nick said. He gestured grandly with his fork. "This is New York City, c'mon. We could totally go buy fake ID from some shady guy in the back of a pawn shop somewhere."

Joe burst out laughing. "You'd probably end up with a name like 'Wilson "Longshanks" McGillicutty,' Nicholas. Besides which, I'm not sure even we could afford it. Never trust shady men in pawn shops. Especially in New York."

Nick made a face. "I'm going to have to buff up on my criminal mastermind skills to figure out how I'm going to get a new identity. They make it look so easy on Law and Order."

"Man, we're really in trouble if our major source of inspiration for criminal masterminds is Law and Order," Joe said despairingly, and Nick laughed.

After breakfast, Joe decided to put the dishes off til later. "C'mon. Let's go out for a while. I want a newspaper."

"You could just watch the news, you know," Nick said but went into the living room and pulled on his shoes anyway.

"Nope, I don't have cable here. Never watch TV, so I never needed it. Besides, I wanna show you around a little."

Nick smiled at him, standing and pulling on his jacket, moving toward the entryway of the apartment. "That sounds--"

His mouth kept moving but suddenly Joe couldn't hear his voice. He realized Nick was disappearing a second after he'd already started, and by the time Joe was in the doorway behind him, Nick had turned back to Joe with a wide-eyed look of shock, nearly gone.

"Nick!" Joe dove after him, reached out and tried to grab him. His hand passed through the warm place where Nick had been and then suddenly Joe felt like he'd been spun around fast and dropped suddenly. "Nick!" he said again, desperate, stomach hollow-feeling and sick. He'd lost him again, still hadn't even been able to say goodbye...

"Joe?" Nick's voice came in his ear, small and tinny, sounding distant, and then Joe blinked open his eyes and saw he was still standing in the front entryway of an apartment, but it wasn't his. It was the old one he'd lived in with Nick. He had his hand out on the doorknob as if he was about to go out, and his cell phone was clutched in his other hand, pressed to his ear. "Are you there?"

Joe startled at the voice, realized it was coming from his cell phone. Nick was talking to him on the phone. Joe grabbed at his phone with both hands, rooted to the spot and confused. "N-Nick?"

"Oh my god," Nick said softly, the quality of his voice completely different. He didn't say anything else for several seconds, but Joe could still hear him breathing on the other end, could still feel him there. "Oh god, Joe,"

"Nick, where are you?"

"In...in Dallas." Joe heard a rustle and Nick's voice directed to someone else as he covered the phone mouthpiece. After another few seconds, he was back. "Joe. What just happened?"

"I was..." Joe's knees suddenly gave out and he collapsed to the hardwood floor beneath him. "Nick, I was..."

"In the little white apartment," Nick finished for him. "The other one. The one you moved into after I died."

Joe sucked in a breath. "Nick."

"I didn't...it didn't happen, Joe. That's what I was there for. I was there to stop it happening at all."

"Am I dreaming?" Joe said raggedly, still feeling disoriented, wondering if he'd really just been experiencing that mental breakdown this whole time.

"No, Joe, no. You're not. Listen. It happened, or it almost happened. Dad and I were fighting and he almost ran a stop sign but I stopped him at the last second. Th-the Hummer, it clipped the front of my car, but we're, we're okay."

"Oh my god, you were in the wreck? Are you...are you sure you're alright."

Nick laughed a little hysterically. "Joe, we're fine. We're fine. I'm here."

Joe's hands tightened on the phone so much the plastic creaked. "Nicholas Jonas. What were doing? The morning you went back to your own time?"

Nick paused a moment, and Joe could almost see him remembering. "We'd just eaten breakfast. You wanted to go for a walk."

Joe blinked, staring at the wall opposite where he'd slumped. There was a picture there that he'd painted and Nick had framed, even though it sucked. Joe took it down and hid it every couple of months just to see if Nick would notice and go looking for it. He always did.

"It really happened?"

"It...it really happened." Now Nick sounded confused. "It was almost like...I'd forgotten. Until just now. But I hadn't forgotten, I always remembered all of it. But it all just hit me, right then as we were coming up to the intersection, and I...I screamed for dad to hit the brakes. And we did. And we're okay. The, uh. The cops are here, now, and the ambulance, but. We're alright. I'm gonna call a cab and go on to the airport so I don't miss my plane."

"Shouldn't you stay and see about fixing the 'Stang?" Joe said. Nick made an incomprehensible sound.

"Joe," he replied, his voice a little strained. "Right now I just want to get to you. Whatever it takes. Alright?"

Joe nodded and knew Nick would know he was nodding. "Yeah. I'll be at the airport to pick you up, then, okay?"

"Okay." There was another pause, and then Nick laughed shakily. "I don't want to hang up."

"I don't want you to. I don't...I can't believe it."

"Me neither," Nick said. "Joe. I love you. Just...I love you so much."

"I love you, Nicky. Please don't...don't ever..."

"I won't," Nick promised firmly. "Never again. I promise you."

Nick got their dad to call him a cab so he could stay on the phone all the way to the airport, but the two and a half hours of flying time during which Nick's phone was off were arguably the worst of Joe's life, worse in some ways than the months of mourning he'd gained back now. He was in a daze the entire way to pick Nick up, until he saw Nick at the gate and everything suddenly came sharply into focus.

Nick was in his arms before Joe even had a chance to breathe again. Nick looked older and bigger and excruciatingly perfect, but the best part of him was his heartbeat, thudding against the side of Joe's face where he had it pressed into the crook of his neck. Joe's own heart raced so hard it hurt. It was a long time before he pulled back, just enough to take Nick's face in his hands and look at him, make sure he was real.

"Nicky?" he said softly, and Nick grinned, so huge, so bright. Joe had never hurt quite this much, or for quite such a welcome reason.

"Yeah, Joe," Nick whispered, his fingers tight on Joe's shoulders. "It's me."