'Nothing Rhymes with Circus' [Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas] [1/2]
Title: "Nothing Rhymes with Circus"
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Art: Cover, David, Kevin, Nick & Joe, by squigglepie.
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest. AU. David Clayton Henrie.
Pairing: Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas, David Henrie/Nick Jonas, Miley Cyrus/Nick Jonas
Word Count: ~21,000
Summary: They begin with a small list of tour dates, just a summer thing along the coast in order to do something their father calls “gauging interest.” Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to brand them as just a gymnastic act so he appoints a skeptical Kevin as ringmaster and even involves little Frankie in the proceedings, despite him being just five years old. The Jonas Brothers Circus soon grows to accommodate some of the Jonai's real-life Disney compatriots as it tours across the country, leaving good and bad memories in its wake.
Disclaimer: Oh, no, I don’t own the JoBros, yo. ...Whoa.
Author's Notes: Written for rpf_big_bang; my artist was squigglepie. Thanks to amory_vain for looking this over. So way back in January, a cheaper and less cool version of Cirque Du Soleil had a set of performances at the theatre where I work. As an usher, you have nothing to do but stare blankly at a show you've seen five times before, or write fic in your head. I think you know which I chose.
---<---<---@
It’s fair to say that the patriarch of the Jonas family has always had a strict plan for his offspring. He’s been in the business for years - management, not performance, but he wanted his kids in the spotlight rather than behind the scenes. He enrolled Nick in gymnastics as soon as he was old enough to walk, bought Joe a little unicycle and tried his damnedest to get Kevin interested in the trapeze, but his two elder sons weren’t having any of it. Nick really took to the gymnastics, though, and Frankie seemed to express a keen interest in juggling (albeit from his high chair), so at least fifty percent of the next generation of Jonases weren’t complete and utter failures. At least there was that.
The day Joe accompanied his mother to pick Nick up from practice and came home begging for lessons, Paul Kevin Sr. took the family out for ice cream.
--
When Nick was nine his father bought a bunch of floor mats and set them up in the basement (“We could be doing this for real in a few years, Nicholas, if you think you can make the grade”) and Nick practiced every single day. He was a serious kid, quiet and focused, and by the time he was eleven the local sports center had run out of classes hard enough for him. His father signed him up with a coach in Manhattan, and as soon as Joe caught up to his level, the three of them braved rush hour traffic three times a week and every other Saturday.
--
“Do you ever…” Joe begins one day, cutting himself off with a muttered “Whoa” as Nick wobbles slightly above him. He’s on all fours on one of the floor mats with Nick’s left foot planted firmly on his back as the right slowly extends out above them. They’re practicing for… something. Some minor-league gymnastics tournament, probably. Nick won’t remember the context when he looks back on this, only the conversation.
Nick crouches, re-gauges his balance and presses his palms against the flat planes of Joe’s upper back before lifting off with his leg. He eases into a split, realigns his body weight so it’s all resting on one hand and then lifts himself up in favor of a finishing flourish.
“Do I what?” he asks, pushing off and doing a graceful backwards flip. He lands with his weight equally interspersed between both feet - a perfect gymnastic dismount.
Joe rises, relaxes his posture. “Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if Dad wasn’t so intense about everything?”
Nick blinks. Every family has an unspoken something that every member is aware of but no-one ever talks about, and in the Jonas family, Paul Kevin Sr.’s single-mindedness is it.
“I can’t imagine that,” Nick says thoughtfully. It’s not as if he hasn’t wondered that himself from time to time but when his father’s into something it kind of sweeps everybody else along, and ultimately he’s just not the type of kid who thinks outside the box of his parents’ wishes. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Dad’s… helping us realize our dream, that’s all, by putting a strong, um, foundation in place.” (He realizes he sounds like his father, pauses, collects himself.) “He just wants us to go places with our talent rather than let it go to waste.”
“Yeah.” Joe bends his right leg at the knee and starts his cool-down routine. “Yeah, I guess.” He switches legs. “I’m glad Dad cares about our future and stuff, I just wish he wasn’t so…”
Nick sighs. “Intense was a good word.” He makes a face before continuing, “It’s not all bad though, you know? I mean, I love gymnastics and so do you - and it’s totally awesome that we get to do it together.”
Joe grins at him. He doesn’t have the same talent as Nick, the innate lithe gracefulness with which his younger brother carries himself, but he works hard and he’s damn skilled at what he does. “I can’t imagine us not being a double act. I feel like we’d end up…” He pauses to think of a good word. “Like, united in some way, whether Dad had plans for us or not.”
“That’s the cool thing about it,” Nick says authoritatively, nodding in agreement as he stretches out his hamstrings. “Whatever we do, we’re in it together, no questions asked.”
--
Everything seems to move very quickly after that. The boys are signed up for more classes at the gymnastics school in the city while Kevin is propelled into joining the public speaking club at school, which he agrees to with his usual affable attitude. Additionally, all three of them keep walking in on hushed conversations between their parents that are suddenly halted as soon as their presence is felt. Something’s going on, but they don’t find out what until they come home from school one day to find their father deep in conversation with a couple of guys in business suits while their mom sits opposite, looking on. Paul Kevin Sr. looks up at them with this expression that’s half guilty, half excited, and Nick gets a sudden inexplicable feeling in his chest that nothing’s ever going to be the same again.
“Boys,” he says after he’s introduced the guys (one’s a loan something-or-other, the other a tour manager), “I suppose now is as good a time to tell you as any, so let’s get this show on the road.”
It turns out that isn’t a metaphor.
--
It feels like they barely have time to blink before contracts are signed, trailers are viewed and paid for, schedules drawn up, edited and reconfirmed. They begin with a small list of tour dates, just a summer thing along the coast in order to do something their father calls “gauging interest.” Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to brand them as just a gymnastic act so he appoints a skeptical Kevin as ringmaster and even involves little Frankie in the proceedings, despite him being just five years old. Frank’s juggling skills are semi-honed at best, but their father’s reasoning is that the audience will fall in love with his chubby little-kid face in lieu of his talent.
Essentially, Nick is one year away from graduating middle school and his whole family’s about to run away to join the circus.
--
To say the Jonas Brothers Circus’ Inaugural East Coast Extravaganza is a hit would be like calling an Oscar-winner moderately successful. In fact, things start snowballing so fast that Nick can barely keep up. The response from the public is electric, which means the media attention is positive, which in turn prompts their father to book consecutive nationwide tours until the end of time. The boys are pulled out of school as soon as Nick completes eighth grade, Joe completes tenth and Kevin graduates, at which point - and this is the worst part - their father sells their house in Jersey. Nick’s in shock. They all kind of are.
But at least along the way they pick up some traveling companions, all of whom help make life on the road a little more bearable. There’s David, a sword-swallowing magician fresh from a carnival in Arizona; Demi and Selena, best friends from Texas who are stunning on the tightrope; and Dylan and Cole, twin trapeze artists from California whose mother Melanie, an ex-performer herself who now works as a makeup artist, comes along for the ride. The troupe is small enough for there to be an intimate air to their shows but sufficiently large (with all of the acts going on at least twice) for a ninety-minute extravaganza.
Nick tells himself he’s lucky that God blessed him with this extraordinary level of talent, and even luckier to leave school just days after his middle school graduation - with parental approval, no less. He says it so many times to the small-town journalists and to his family and to his friends back home (the ones who slowly but surely stop calling) that he actually begins to believe it. He believes it for the entire year, all the way across America, and it isn’t until they get to California that he begins to think otherwise. He watches Dylan and Cole leave to visit family in Long Beach while Demi and Selena fly back to Texas and David returns to Scottsdale, and realizes his family has nowhere to go. The closest thing any of them has to a home these days is the bus he can’t wait to get away from but no, his father’s big plan for their “break” involves them sitting in a trailer park for two weeks until the other members of the troupe come back - at which point they’ll turn the whole procession around and start road-tripping to Boston to begin their second cross-country tour in as many years (which, seriously, fuck Nick’s life because the bus is the very last place he wants to be).
What prevents him from just giving up and, like, running away or something (aside from the omnipresent and nearly crippling fear of paternal ire, because Nick Jonas is nothing if not a Good Kid) is his brothers - little juggling Frankie and ringmaster Kevin and Joe, his partner in crime. Whenever one of them has flagging spirits or a case of the blues the others - even Frankie - will talk him out of it. They never discuss it, the way they keep each other afloat, but when it comes right down to it they don’t actually need to. All they know is that they’re in this together, no questions asked.
--
When Paul Kevin Sr. start talking about the possibility of Miley Cyrus joining the Jonas Brothers Circus for its second nationwide tour, it’s a huge thing - not least because she’ll get top billing on all the posters.
“But the circus is named after us,” grumbles Frankie, dragging one of his new juggling clubs along the ground with enough force to leave a trail in the dirt of whatever lot they’re parked in that day. Nick cuffs him lightly around the ear and tells him to be nice, even though he secretly agrees.
The thing is, Miley’s dad is a big deal on the show circuit. He produces Cirque in Vegas, which Miley’s been performing in since she was twelve years old. The day Billy Ray flies out to meet them all and seal the deal, Nick’s dad is so nervous he’s practically vibrating. He flubs his welcome speech about seven separate times until Kevin steps forward, shows Billy Ray a program and lists all the acts they have to offer and the cities they’ve performed in. By the time he's done, Paul Kevin Sr. has downed three glasses of water and almost stopped sweating, which works out favorably for everyone involved. Nick notices the tips of Joe’s ears turning red when Billy Ray keeps calling the circus a “cute little enterprise,” so he pokes his brother surreptitiously and refuses to stop until he sees a smile.
The upshot of all this is that Miley gets officially contracted, and Paul Kevin hopes to capitalize upon this to maximum effect by plastering the words “STARRING MILEY CYRUS OF CIRQUE DU SOLEIL” in huge letters on all the promotional materials. Needless to say, it gets them press. The deal is this: Miley’ll join the tour in New York and travel with them all the way to Vegas, at which point she’ll resume performing with Cirque. Everyone’s kind of intrigued about why she’s taking the summer off to travel with a family-run circus but no-one’s tactless enough to wonder about this out loud - with the exception of Frankie, who won’t stop until somebody shushes him.
--
They discuss the Miley situation at dinner - or more specifically right afterwards, over dessert. (For all his gripes about bus life, Nick has to admit it’s pretty awesome to see people’s faces when they park their buses in the lot of some tiny ice cream place and the whole troupe walks through the door.)
Tonight Taylor joined them at the dinner table for a while, slinking back to the bus she shares with Demi and Selena soon after Frankie’s bedtime. Taylor’s story is an interesting one - she ran away from a Pennsylvania Christmas tree farm to make it big as a country singer in Nashville, but the circus picked her up along the way. She was eighteen by then, living in an apartment with three other girls who had big dreams and little money, so when Nick’s father offered her a job at the concessions stand she jumped at the chance. Apparently Taylor’s parents tracked her down somehow and asked to come see her but she said no, please don’t, I don’t want to be found yet. She promised them she’d write but never does.
“What do you think she’ll be like?” Kevin asks after dinner one night, licking the last drips of ice cream off his spoon.
Kevin’s question comes at a tangent, but Joe and Nick both know he’s referring to Miley. Joe scoops the last of the Baskin Robbins from his Styrofoam cup as Nick watches, nibbling at his tasteless, diabetic-approved candy bar and trying his best to pretend he isn’t jealous.
“I Googled her,” Joe says with a grin, sneaking a quick glance towards the back of the bus before whispering, “Let me just say, those wireless chip thingies Mom and Dad bought us? Cooler than Jesus.”
Nick kicks his brother in the shin and tells himself it’s more about the blasphemy than the ice cream.
“I YouTubed her, too,” Joe continues. “She looks really good in a leotard.”
Kevin rolls his eyes from across the table.
“Is she as talented as everyone says she is?” Nick asks, hoping to get the conversation back on track. He knows almost everything about the guys in Cirque - they’re his heroes, and he’s going to have to try really hard not to fanspaz if Miley ever mentions them in casual conversation - but he doesn’t study the girls with the same intensity. After all, they’re not direct competition.
Joe looks like he’s considering making some off-color comment, but Kevin gives him a Look and he sighs, defeated.
“She’s awesome,” he says instead. “I don’t know, the clips were pretty bad quality but she was doing all these insane acrobatics. You know, hanging from a strip of fabric by, like, one fingernail or whatever.”
Nick nods. “Typical Cirque.” He chomps resolutely at his faux candy bar and tries to remember the taste of real chocolate. “I think she’ll be a worthwhile addition to the company.”
Joe just stares at him. “Are you Dad?”
“No,” Nick retorts just as Kevin protests, “Dad’s not that bad” - a lie, but it’s virtually impossible for Kevin to accept someone talking badly about somebody else. “And for the record,” Nick continues, breaking his silence on the matter at last, “I’m as mad about Miley’s top billing as you are. We are this circus. It has our name on it.”
“Ha!” Joe chortles delightedly, clapping his brother on the back. Even Kevin agrees. He won’t say anything outright, of course, but his cheeks go pink and his lips twitch in the way that means he’s trying to stop himself from smiling.
--
They’re due to begin with two weeks of pre-Miley shows in Boston so everybody can get their routine down before things really kick off in New York. Miley doesn’t have to rehearse with everyone else because she already has her performance down pat and Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to insult her talent, or something. That pisses Nick off, the way he acts like she’s royalty. Two of his own sons are good enough for Cirque!
Of course there’s also the fact that Miley won’t be interacting with anybody else onstage except during the finale, so they’re basically just going to pick her up before jumping straight into performing. From New York they’ll head west, wending their way across America one empty lot at a time.
--
Nick likes Boston a lot, especially at this time of year. On their first tour - the East Coast one - he and his brothers had explored Boston Common. They’d found a baseball diamond right in the heart of it, completely devoid of people because it was noon and probably too hot for anyone sane to be out. Joe broke off a tree branch and made it into a bat while Kevin procured a slightly soggy tennis ball from what may or may not have been the jowls of a local dog, and they had the most awesome game of baseball that any of them can remember. Frankie was so young then, and although they let him play it didn’t really count for anything because he kept running regardless of who caught the ball or where it landed, sliding spectacularly into home base with the kind of gleeful whoop no adult can ever hope to replicate.
They mean to go back there this time, sans Frankie because their parents decide to take him to the Boston Children’s Museum on their day off, but Kevin distracts everyone by saying he read something about part of the “Will & Grace” set being installed at Emerson College. Emerson is right opposite the Common so they spend the best part of an hour fruitlessly attempting to beg, borrow or steal a way in from some of the students standing outside smoking. Most of the guys Nick talks to end up being really, really gay, and Nick’s always looked older than his age so he kind of gets hit on a lot. Kevin finally drags him away while Joe laughs and laughs.
--
They “pitch their tent,” as Frankie calls it, in this lot next to the Charles River, and Paul Kevin Sr. treats the entire company to suites at a hotel downtown. The Tipton has fluffy beds and warm breakfasts and hot girls at the front desk which means everyone’s priorities are taken care of, ensuring they’re all happy and rested by opening night.
--
Even though Joe and Nick have been through their routine a million times, the bright lights and buzz of audience chatter make everything feel so different. It’s been a while, and Nick won’t lie - he’s missed this. He dips his hands in the chalk bucket and peers through one of the side curtains, gauging the mood of the crowd. A chin rests on his shoulder and Nick doesn’t even have to look to know whose it is.
“What’s up, Nick J.?”
Nick sort of shrugs. “Y’know.”
“Hmm.” Joe tilts his head, angling his mouth next to Nick’s ear and murmuring, “First night jitters?”
“Nah,” Nick scoffs, a too-scornful laugh bubbling around the lie. He bets Joe can see right through him, but will hopefully decide not to give him a hard time.
And sure enough, all Joe says is “Me either” in his knowing Joe way before clapping Nick on the back and reminding him “We’re up next” as if there’s a real chance Nick doesn’t know.
Demi and Selena are out there at the moment, doing their tightrope thing to a chorus of oohs and aahs. Demi’s poised in a perfect arabesque, leg extended out behind her with her back ramrod straight, supporting her best friend’s weight. Nick watches Selena swing downwards, Demi propelling her into a flip. Demi doesn’t look it, but she’s strong as well as graceful. Nick bets she’ll end up in Cirque one day, no doubt about it, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.
The pair finish the routine and the lights are lowered, along with the tightrope. Joe lays a firm, guiding hand against the small of Nick’s back and they stand poised and ready while Kevin, looking dapper in his new red ringmaster suit, walks out to deliver the familiar segue:
“And because we like to keep it in the family here at the Jonas Brothers Circus, I want to take this opportunity to introduce my brothers, Nick and Joe Jonaaaaaaaaaas!”
“Go,” Joe hisses, but Nick’s already off, back-flipping his way into the gaze of their public. Whatever hardships come with a transient lifestyle, he loves performing, lives for it, and to have Joe next to him while Kevin and Frankie and their parents look on… it’s pretty incredible, having his family so involved in this. He gets into position and waits for the music.
--
The show is a good one, for an opener. There are some weird points, missed cues or whatever, so it isn’t perfect but it’s good enough to be proud of. The whole company comes together backstage after the final curtain call: Nick’s mom and dad and all three of his brothers, Selena, Demi, David, Taylor, Dylan and Cole… even Melanie gets in on the action. They join hands in a big circle and pray out loud, thanking God for their health, their talents and their opening show not being a disaster. By the time they get back to the Tipton it’s past everyone’s bedtime, and some of the performers are practically asleep on their feet. Frankie’s flaked out completely on Kevin’s shoulder and Joe almost manages to draw a moustache on his little brother’s face in washable marker, but their dad catches him at the very last second.
Nick doesn’t always mind living on the bus when they’re traveling, but the comforts of a real bed and a luxuriously spacious bathroom truly can’t be beaten. When they stay at hotels, Kevin shares with Frankie while Nick rooms with Joe; it’s like, tradition or something. They get a double bed each but Nick often crawls in with his brother and that’s the way it’s been for ages, since way before the circus thing.
Tonight Joe showers first before tucking himself into bed, flipping through the hotel channels while the steaming water pounds Nick's muscles. Nick ambles out in his pajama pants, shirtless and half asleep. Joe looks over at him and grins.
“C’mere, Fro Bro.”
Nick scowls and smoothes down his damp hair. Joe’s doesn’t look much better in its non-flat-ironed state but Nick’s is the curliest out of everyone’s, so the endearment sticks. Joe shuts off the TV, shifting over to the far side of the bed so Nick can climb in, the starched sheets warm from Joe’s body heat. Nick snuggles down under the comforter, hooks his ankle around his brother’s leg and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
--
New York comes too quickly. They’ve only been in Boston for a couple of weeks but Nick doesn’t want to leave yet. The place kind of just started to feel like home - not in the same sense as Jersey, of course, but it’s somewhere to settle, somewhere safe, not bright-lights-big-city like New York is, like Vegas. There are areas of Boston with narrow streets and brick sidewalks that almost make him forget he’s in an urban setting, though at the same time there’s easy access to all the perks a capital city should have. The Loews by the Common shows twenty films at once and the subway system, the “T,” is so much easier to understand than the New York subway because everything’s divided into colors: green, blue, red, orange, and Joe’s personal favorite, silver. On the second-to-last day, Nick gets a “Charlie Card” - a transportation pass the locals use - just to feel a part of the place, to bring a memento of the city with him.
He knows he should probably use the card at least once before they leave tomorrow, but it’s such a nice evening that he just wants to walk. Now that most of the commuters have gone home the city feels so spacious, like it’s been holding its breath all day and just now has the chance to exhale. He crosses Boylston Street and walks down Newbury, Boston’s small-scale version of Fifth Avenue. There’s an awesome store called Newbury Comics about halfway down, with its stock of band shirts and really inappropriate badges (“The only Bush I like is my own” made Kevin blush and Joe burst out laughing) and even some vinyl, right at the back.
He’s kind of dreading New York. Not just because of Miley, but its proximity to Jersey. For Nick - for all of them - Jersey is full of memories, a real life, a proper home. He loves what they’re doing now, he does, but there are times he really wishes he could go back to that familiar house just off Cedar Hill at the very, very end of Lakeview Drive. The street was aptly named, with the waters of Goffle Brook chuckling away behind the house during the summertime and freezing over in the winter.
Nick even misses school. It wasn’t always easy or enjoyable, but since the family went on the road and he and Joe started being homeschooled, the only people he interacts with are the circus kids. They’re awesome, don’t get him wrong, but they’re just as transient as he is.
Sometimes he needs some stability, is all he’s saying.
He ends up at the Public Garden, crosses Charles South and heads for the Common. If he has to say goodbye to his home away from home, it might as well be here. He passes the Frog Pond, closed to paddlers as it’s after six, and makes his way over to the baseball diamond. No-one’s playing but he sees a figure up in the rickety tiered benches that act as makeshift bleachers, silhouetted in the sunset of the fading summer evening. Nick knows that hair. He’d know that hair anywhere.
Joe looks up as Nick walks through the gap in the chain link fence, saying nothing until his brother clambers up next to him. “You know, it’s so much quicker if you take the T.”
Nick rolls his eyes and just smiles. He considers asking why Joe’s here but he’s already pretty sure he knows the answer. Back when they went to regular school, this pair of twins in Nick’s class had been showing off in the playground, claiming to be able to read each other’s minds. Joe alone was unimpressed, proclaiming loudly, “That’s easy - me and my brother can do that too!” before marching off haughtily with Nick in tow. It’s not strictly true, the mind-reading thing, but they sure do have a sixth sense about each other, a closeness Nick doesn’t share with Kevin or Frankie. He’s unsure if it’s due to the similarity in age or the fact that they spend so much time together, but either way, it’s pretty cool.
Joe quirks his eyebrow in a what’s-up-Nick-J-I-know-you’re-down kind of way and Nick shrugs. Joe makes a face but slings his arm around his brother anyway, and Nick leans the side of his head against Joe’s shoulder. It probably looks weird to anyone who happens to be watching, but it’s just because they’re brothers and they’re close.
--
It’s a four-hour drive from Boston to New York, but it feels a lot longer. The cramped confines of the bus seem so foreign after a fortnight at the Tipton with two to a suite, and the fact that Paul Kevin Sr. isn’t springing for hotel rooms in New York is another downer. Frankie’s whiny, which gets their parents irritable, which makes even Kevin’s perpetual cheerfulness begin to seem strained. Joe and Nick escape to Nick’s bunk, pulling at the privacy curtain and flopping against each other in an attempt to maximize space. Joe props his head up with his right hand, elbow digging into Nick’s armpit.
“I got you something,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?” Nick whispers back, which is fairly unnecessary considering that Frankie’s yelling shrilly not twenty feet away and their father’s booming chastisements that all end in “young man” - a sure sign this argument is going to go on for a while.
“Remember when I bought those postcards?” and yeah, Nick does, because they ended up taking the T back the previous day so Nick could say he’d used his Charlie Card, and Park Street Station is like, the souvenir capital of Boston. “I got something else as well, when you weren’t paying attention. Look under your pillow.”
Curiously, Nick does, and finds a paper bag that rustles when he removes it. He glances up uncertainly and Joe makes a motion with his hand that says open it, so he does. Inside is a little snow globe of the Public Garden, complete with wildfowl and swan boats. It’s probably the nicest thing anybody’s ever thought to give him.
“They didn’t have any of the Common,” Joe says apologetically. “Best I could -”
Nick hugs him fiercely, cutting him off right in the middle of his sentence. “I don’t care, you idiot,” he hisses into Joe’s ear, trying his best not to yield to the choking sob of gratitude that’s building in his throat.
Joe pats him on the back - an attempt, Nick presumes, at injecting some masculinity into the situation - but he ends up pulling Nick close anyway, brushing his brother’s baby-smooth cheek with his own haltingly stubbled one.
“You too,” he murmurs, nudging Nick’s cheekbone with his nose. His lips catch the side of Nick’s jaw and Nick shivers slightly, holds him tighter. Maybe they are closer than brothers should be, closer in the way that would make Dad frown if he ever picked up on it, but it doesn’t seem to worry Joe so Nick figures everything’s okay. Joe is Nick’s guide stick when it comes to this kind of stuff. If Joe doesn’t see anything wrong with it, Nick doesn’t either.
--
So Miley’s actually pretty cool. Nick’s never shown much of an interest in girls but, yeah, she’s okay. Of course, she name-drops all of Nick’s favorite Cirque stars within five minutes of meeting him, so that probably has a lot to do with it. The two of them chat tent-side while Nick’s father bustles around trying to make sure the Big Top is secure, bellowing about safety hooks and acting all annoyed about Frankie being underfoot. Nick grabs his little brother on Frankie’s next rampage past, tells him, “This is Miley Cyrus. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” and laughs along with her when he responds in horror “Ewww, a girl!” and wriggles away.
“It’s fine,” Miley assures after Nick apologizes, although it comes out more like fan in her lilting Southern accent. “As long as you don’t agree with him.”
“Uh?” Nick responds intelligently.
Her eyes twinkle. “Do you like girls, Nicky?” and, wow, the only people who call him that are Joe and sometimes his mom when he’s sick. It’s disconcerting to hear somebody else use it so casually. He’s not sure how he feels about it.
“Some,” he says opaquely because he doesn’t really want to make a blanket statement either way, and she flashes him a huge, brilliant grin.
--
From the way Miley marvels over David’s biceps, musses Dylan’s hair and adjusts the starched collar on Kevin’s ringmaster jacket before each show, Nick figures she’s just a flirty person, but everyone else seems to disagree.
“Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” his mother says knowingly, and Nick laughs it off but begins to wonder. Miley does seem to trail after him rather frequently (or walk on her hands when she’s showing off, which is a lot), making conversation and asking questions and inviting him over for “girls’ night” with Taylor and Selena and Demi on her personal bus. (Billy Ray is like, loaded - he paid for the driver and everything.) She touches Nick’s arm and tugs on his sleeve and “confides” in him, which really means whining about missing everything from her daddy and the Nevada heat to her suite at the Mirage and the incessant twenty-four-hour ding ding ding of the casinos. That makes no sense to Nick, because she keeps going on about escape and adventure in the same breath as missing Vegas, but he supposes you can yearn for more yet still miss home. God knows he does.
He likes Miley, sure. He’ll hang out with her and whatever, and sometimes he’ll let her do weird stuff like ruffle his hair because it seems to make her happy, but he doesn’t really think he likes her like that. He always imagined falling for a girl would entail feeling something deeper than this. All the movies, books and songs make love out to be worth fighting for, something awe-inspiring and amazing and singularly crushing all at once, with butterflies every time you see the person and fireworks every time you kiss.
When he sees Miley he just thinks, hey.
--
Something kind of dies inside Nick the day he tries to track Kevin down and ends up stumbling onto Joe and Taylor making out in the stands. It shouldn’t be a big deal - it’s not as if Joe’s raging attractiveness to members of the opposite sex is news to Nick in the slightest, but for some reason the image lodges itself inside him with a thick, residual heaviness he can’t seem to shake. He hates this. This whole thing, all of it. Joe and Taylor, Miley, everyone in his family constantly tripping over each other because they used to live in a four-bedroom house and now they’re crammed onto a freaking bus. It’s just... it’s a lot for Nick to handle.
--
The days pass as days are wont to do, and Nick wakes up one morning to realize it’s almost the end of June. They only have two New York shows left but despite his parents’ vague promises, the family never quite managed to visit their old town in Jersey. Between Joe being lame and Miley being… Miley, Nick feels so displaced right now he could scream. Sure, they both listen to him talk about how much he misses Jersey, but he doesn’t like to do that much because Joe will end up getting bummed and Miley will go on one of her “I miss Vegas” kicks and Nick will end up having to hear about the water show at the Bellagio for the tenth time that week. He yearns to visit the old mall, the old school, the old house, needing to find something of his past there - something of himself. When Paul Kevin Sr. tells him they don’t have the time, Nick - nicely-spoken, mild-mannered Nick - yells, “We never have time to do anything fun anymore!” before stomping off in a tantrum fit for Frankie. He sulks in his bunk for a while until Joe peeks around the privacy curtain, pulls him into a one-armed hug and murmurs into his hair, “You’re not the only one, Nicky, I want to go home too.”
The weird thing is that Nick gets the feeling Joe doesn’t just mean for a visit. He’s talking about wanting to move back to Wyckoff for good, with real bedrooms and pop quizzes and visiting cousins on the weekends, where Nick and Joe are Nick and Joe and there’s no Miley or Taylor or their father’s stupid overblown ambitions interfering. A knot twists painfully in his stomach as he thinks about how desperately he wants the same thing.
Joe pats Nick on the back until Nick gets his breathing under control. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly.
Nick wants to say something bitchy like “Now you have time for me?” because he’s not quite as okay with this Taylor thing as he pretends to be, but Joe feels very warm next to him and it’s comforting, so instead he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to admit to himself quite how much he’s missed this.
“So how’s Miley?”
Nick involuntarily tenses at the question and Joe goes “Ohhh” under his breath.
“No, everything’s fine, it’s not… it’s not like that. I don’t know why everybody’s trying to make it into something it’s not.”
Joe gives him a sidelong glance. When Nick doesn’t elaborate further, he reaches out and pulls on a sprig of Nick’s hair, straightening it all the way before releasing it and then smirking as it bounces back. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Nick doesn’t. He doesn’t want to force Joe into anything either but he needs to know, he needs to. “How’s, um. Taylor?”
Joe frowns. He withdraws his arms, pulls himself into a sitting position and rests his chin on his knees. Nick feels juvenile in comparison, lying beside his brother with his hands all curled into his pillow, so he lifts himself up and they eye each other.
“How do you know about that?” Joe asks softly. The tone he uses makes it sound like he’s just found out Nick read his personal diary or something. “Is that what all this has been about? You walking around like there’s a storm cloud over your head for the past, like, two weeks?”
“I saw you,” Nick responds flatly. “You know, in the stands.”
“Ah.” Joe sighs. “It’s. It’s kind of nothing. I would’ve told you if it was something.”
“Are you sure she thinks that?”
Joe makes a face at him. “No,” he says honestly. “She thinks we’re like, in love, and I sort of let her believe it, I guess, but…”
“You shouldn’t, Joe,” and Nick’s really not sure why he feels the need to admonish his brother when he doesn’t even really like Taylor. “Girls hate to be led on like that.”
“Right, and you’re going to sit here and pretend you’re not doing exactly the same thing with Miley?”
Nick really doesn’t want to address this right now. He looks down and pretends to suddenly be captivated by the bed sheets. “I don’t know, it’s not like I had much of a say in it. She thinks what she thinks and I can’t think of a polite way to tell her I’m not interested.”
“That’s not a very good excuse,” Joe points out pragmatically and, wow, since when is Joe the voice of reason?
Instead Nick leans forward, crooks his hand around the back of Joe’s neck and pulls him close, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. “I really miss Wyckoff,” he says quietly in lieu of defending himself.
Joe lifts a hand, ruffles Nick’s curls and lets the Miley thing go. “Me too, Nicky,” he murmurs in a voice thick with emotion. “Me too.”
--
So David Henrie is kind of Nick’s hero. He takes one look at the two of them before the show and asks, “Why so glum, chums?” which effectively drags the whole sorry homesickness story out of them in less than a minute. David’s easy to confide in. Turns out he has his license and is totally pumped to drive semi-illegally (he’s “not entirely sure” whether he’s allowed to drive outside of Arizona, something Joe doesn’t care about and Nick decides to conveniently overlook) so they plan to sneak out after the show is over, under cover of darkness. David tells Dylan and Cole’s mom that he’s going to stay with the Jonases while Joe informs his parents he and Nick are sleeping over at David’s, because Nick can’t tell a convincing lie if his life depends on it. They let Kevin in on the plan and ask if he wants to come along but after trying to talk them out of it he declines, saying it’s good to have someone know where they are in case there’s a problem.
Things aren’t the same for Kevin anymore. It’s not that he isn’t fond of the old house and school and familiar neighborhood, he’s just… not particularly bummed about moving on. Nick supposes it makes sense considering Kevin would be in college now if they, you know, had normal lives. Maybe Kevin was getting cabin fever, living in Jersey. Maybe for him, the circus came along at just the right time.
Throughout their entire show, Nick’s buzzing with anticipation. He pours himself into his act even more than usual, giving the proverbial 110%, but nothing can extinguish his nervous energy. When he runs backstage hand-in-hand with Joe after the last round of curtain calls, he catches David’s eye and smiles as his friend mouths, “One hour.” There’s not a lot to do after the show aside from sweeping the stands and moving some of the equipment so Nick really puts his back into it, impatiently willing the time to pass.
When he and Joe finally slip away, they find David waiting for them in the parking lot with a grin on his face and a set of keys in his hand. He won’t tell them where he got the car and to be honest, as long as he assures them they won’t get in trouble for it, they don’t really want to know. They pile into the car, which is black because they’re being “stealth like ninjas” according to David - a concept Joe wholeheartedly approves of. Nick and Joe automatically pile into the back seat, leaving David alone in the front (“What am I, a chauffeur or something?”)
David takes I-87 out of the city and merges onto 95, crossing the George Washington Bridge and the state line. Joe points out the “WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY” sign and Nick shivers with excitement, grinning hugely at his older brother, who beams back. David puts the radio on, singing along softly whenever he hears something he knows, which turns out to be mostly lame Top 40 stuff or hip-hop. They don’t talk, for the most part, except to give David directions. It’s weird how they can go on autopilot like this even though it’s been ages since they’ve lived here, and Nick feels kind of like a homing pigeon with one set of directions burned into its brain.
When they get off at Cedar Hill, Nick’s heart starts thumping. In a strange, brotherly ESP moment, he and Joe look over at each other at the exact same time. Wordlessly, Joe squeezes his hand.
Nick summons his voice enough to direct David to “Keep going straight,” but it comes out sounding tight and strained. David glances at him in the rearview mirror and he smiles back wanly before saying, “Your next left will be, um. Lakeview Drive.”
They pass Cedar Court and then there it is, Lakeview Drive, just as he remembers it, years of returning from school, church and gymnastics lessons ensuring he won’t ever forget this sight. A bolt of familiarity hits him, coupled with the unsettling aura of change. The shrubs framing the street sign have grown unruly to the point of rendering the letters almost illegible, and someone must have removed the big stone that sat next to the sign for years, Nick notices, absolute years. It had been a boulder in the truest sense of the word, big and gray and worn completely smooth by the antics of children at play, by four pairs of juvenile Jonas butt cheeks.
“Whoa,” Joe breathes. “It looks different, Nicky, doesn’t it?”
Nick nods dumbly, not trusting his voice to hold steady. David, to his credit, says nothing, just creeps the car slowly forwards until they’re almost at the end of the cul-de-sac. Joe puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, “Stop here.”
And there it is, their house, their little house, nestled between the Cooks’ and the Tiemanns’ just like always, although who knows if those families still live there? The perennial swing set’s missing from the front yard and the door’s been repainted a rather lurid shade of yellow but other than that it looks the same - barring, that is, two silhouettes eerily outlined by the glow of the television in the living room. Nick feels a tug inside him and almost reaches for the handle of the car door, wanting to run across the grass and tap at the living room window just like he used to. Rationally he knows the two people are strangers, that it’s their house now, not his, but somehow his heart’s not getting the message.
Joe sits next to him, oddly subdued, and the two of them just stare for a while until David says “Uh, it’s getting late” and they nod, folding their emotions back inside them as David makes a U-turn and sets off towards home (away from home). Nobody speaks for a while, but when they pass the “WELCOME TO NEW YORK” sign, Nick glances over at Joe, who looks just about the saddest Nick’s ever seen him. His heart breaks for his brother. It breaks for himself.
--
Nick and Joe decide to crash on the Sprouse bus in the end. Explaining their presence to Melanie in the morning will be way easier than trying to explain David’s to their parents - the only problem being that all the bunks are occupied and the sole alternative is the Lilliputian sitting room’s pull-out couch that can barely fit one. Nick’s grateful for it anyway. He’s so emotionally exhausted that he flops right onto it, fully clothed. As soon as Joe drops down beside him, he closes his eyes.
“Hey,” Joe breathes, curling against him until they’re practically spooning, which isn’t hard when you consider the (lack of) space they have to work with. Nick feels some of the tension flow out of his body at the contact. “So tonight was pretty intense, huh?”
“Mm,” Nick mumbles, half asleep already, then, “I wish those people didn’t live there.”
Joe lets out a long sigh that tickles the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck. “It’s their house now,” he says, tone just a smidge too even for sincerity.
Nick opens his eyes, frowns, and rolls over. “It’s our house, Joe,” he says fiercely. “It’ll always be ours.”
Joe’s eyes get big for a second like he’s surprised by the strength of Nick’s reaction, but then he bites his lip and looks away. Nick can see all the bravado go out of him. “I know it is, Nicky, I… I’m just trying to, I don’t know, look on the bright side. Kevin’s so good at that, and he never seems to miss home.”
“It’s ‘cause Kevin would’ve moved out anyway,” Nick says unsteadily. “It’s different for us. It wasn’t time for us to leave. We should be in school, Joe. We should live in, like, a real community, play on school sports teams and go to Bible study on Tuesday nights.”
Joe regards him very seriously for a second, and usually Nick can read his brother’s expressions with ease but this is a new one. He’s about to ask why Joe has such a weird look on his face when Joe tips his head forward and kisses him, just like that.
Nick kind of stops thinking - at least consciously - when he feels his brother’s cool, dry lips on his own. Joe tastes minty-fresh, like the toothpaste jammed into the overnight bag alongside their clothes, and when his brother licks gently into his mouth something far in the back of his mind notes that this should probably be feeling a lot weirder than it actually does. Hesitantly, he kisses back. He has an absurd moment of is this okay before throwing caution to the wind and slipping his tongue inside his brother’s mouth.
When Joe rolls on top of him Nick reacts instinctively, making a small, puzzled noise at the friction between their bodies. Joe starts moving a little bit, getting into it, and Nick’s hips twitch at every motion. He knows this isn’t right, but at the same time it feels beautifully so - almost comforting. It’s not like it’s perfect - he keeps jerking upwards and Joe’s kissing him more messily now, with little wet smacks and a languid desperation, but it works somehow. It fits. Like they’re moving to their own melodies.
When his heart rate accelerates to the point at which he can barely discern one beat from the next, he pulls away for fear that something inside him will burst.
“Hey,” he manages over the pounding in his ears, “we should…”
Joe nods and flops against his shoulder, sort of petting his hair and whispering “Sorry,” his ragged breaths coming as hot plumes of air against Nick’s neck. It sounds like he’s trying to get his body under control as much as Nick is, maybe panicking like his little brother too (because oh, God, they are, they’re brothers).
Nick waits until the hammering inside his chest has slowed before putting a hand on Joe’s back and rubbing smooth, soothing circles. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but eventually Joe’s breathing becomes deep and even. Nick carefully eases his brother off before curling up next to him out of equal parts spatial necessity and force of habit, mulling over what just happened in a very detached, sleepy way. He falls asleep in the middle of wondering why it felt more like home than anything else has in months.
--
When Nick awakens the next morning, Joe’s hand is splayed across his chest. His first inclination is to jab Joe with his elbow and say something about hogging the bed but then memories of last night come rushing back with all the stinging velocity of a slap in the face. He actually gasps - it’s too big to keep inside - and of course that wakes Joe up.
Joe’s not a morning person. His eyelashes flutter for a few seconds before he stretches and accidentally socks Nick in the jaw, which makes absolutely certain they’re both awake. Joe’s eyes fly open and he looks at Nick with this half-crazed, half-confused expression like he’s trying to figure out where he is. Nick can totally tell when he gets the so-here’s-what-you-did-last-night brain sync because it flickers across his face like every pantomime of oh shit Nick’s ever seen. His gaze flickers away and then returns, but waveringly.
“Uhhm, hey,” Nick says finally, because this? Is kind of awkward.
The confused look is back. Joe leans forward for a second like he’s going for a repeat performance or something but then he stops himself, blinks and says, “Well. Okay. Good morning, Nicky” like nothing happened.
Nick kind of nods back at him, unsure what to say now that hey is off the list. He’s never felt like this around Joe before, uncertain of his own words, wondering where the line is and how not to cross it. They never had a line before. It was one of the things that set Joe apart from everyone else.
There’s a weird silence for what’s probably only a couple of seconds but feels a hell of a lot longer, which is blessedly interrupted by David barreling into the room in his bouncy David Henrie way. He has a spatula in one hand and a pair of low-cut Levis hugging his hips. Nick kind of stutters to see him shirtless because damn, but he can feel Joe falter beside him, which is kind of reassuring. At least he knows it’s not just him.
“Whooooo wants pancakes?” David asks, sort of dancing into the kitchenette area. He opens one of the cupboards, pulls out a bundled wad of fabric that turns into a Kiss the Cook apron, and ties it around his waist with a flourish. David is obviously a morning person.
Nick and Joe exchange glances, unsure what to make of this new development. After all, David had seemed relatively sane up until this point. The only other morning people they know are Kevin, who’s clearly a freak, and Frankie sometimes, but that’s governed more by the television guide than his natural circadian rhythms.
“Nick, I forget - can you eat pancakes?”
“I’m fine with just toast,” Nick says politely because he doesn’t need to bum everyone out with his stupid diabetes, and Joe’s half a beat behind him with, “Yo, David, got any chocolate chips in those cupboards?” Nick elbows him for his rudeness and Joe beams back beatifically as if the years and years of manners drilled into his head by their mother have flown right out again, just like that.
The smell of food soon rouses Melanie and the twins, who enter from the bunk area in various degrees of dishevelment. They’re obviously not morning people either, which makes David the freak of this household just as Kevin is back on the Jonas bus. The twins aim sleepy high-fives in David’s direction while Melanie pats his arm gratefully and smiles, brown eyes dancing.
Nick thinks it’s so cool how they welcomed David into their family. When David first got contracted, living arrangements were kind of an issue because every performer aside from the brothers was female, and David would’ve ended up having to crash on the Jonas bus (which really didn’t need any more people) but for the fact that Paul Kevin Sr. discovered Dylan and Cole. He was all pumped because the circus needed a trapeze act and twins have good commercial value or whatever, while Nick was simply looking forward to working with guys his own age. As it stands, Nick doesn’t hang out with the twins that all that often because they’re best friends already and he and Joe are usually too busy doing their own thing, but it’s still cool to have them around.
Before long, everyone is squished around the tiny fold-out table next to the kitchenette, Dylan and Cole eating off each other’s plates while their mother chides them for it, but she’s smiling at the same time so nobody takes her all that seriously. There are extra chocolate chips in Joe’s pancakes because David’s a really, really nice guy, but Joe proceeds to drench his whole plate in chocolate syrup anyway. Sometimes Nick thinks Joe’s aiming to ingest all the sugar he can’t consume, just so it doesn’t go to waste or whatever. That would be such a Joe thing to do.
Joe catches Nick’s eye over the mountain of chocolatey goo and smiles tentatively. Nick grins back because Joe’s smile is contagious, and David makes toast so awesomely that he’s not even bummed about his lack of pancakes. For the first time in forever, it’s like he’s part of a real family.
He feels kind of bad thinking that, what with Mom and Dad and Kevin and Frankie just next door, but the bus was never anything more than an extension of Dad’s office as far as Nick’s concerned. Dad is all about the circus all the time, so Nick never has the chance to get away from it and switch off. They live it, breathe it, perform in it and, man, a part of Nick really wishes that he and Joe and David had never driven back to the lot last night.
--
When Paul Kevin Sr. knocks on the bus door and tells them to report to the Big Top in half an hour for rehearsal, they all kind of roll their eyes good-naturedly before Joe ambles to the bathroom and the Sprouses go off to get dressed (“Sprice,” Joe calls them collectively, because it rolls off the tongue better and makes Nick laugh). David ambles to the sink and starts affably doing the dishes, and Nick helps because David cooked so he shouldn’t have to do the washing up as well, right?
David puts himself in charge of washing while Nick gets drying duty, only the kitchenette isn’t big enough for two people to stand side-by-side so they end up bumping elbows a lot. Nick quits apologizing after the fifth time because David keeps shaking his head and saying, “It’s fine, Nick, for real” and flicking soap suds at him.
Nick isn’t sure where Joe’s gone off to but he thinks he can hear laughter coming from the bunk area so chances are his brother’s probably entertaining one or both of the twins. He touches David’s arm - deliberately this time - and says in a low voice, “Hey, thanks for last night.”
The cool thing about David is that he likes to have fun but definitely also knows when to be serious. He gets this wide-eyed, sincere look on his face and replies earnestly, “Anytime, bro.”
Nick grins and punches him affectionately in the bicep. David could totally school him in the muscle department because gymnasts are lean while magicians are… well, this one is totally jacked, but David just takes it. He even kind of pretends like it hurts a little, which is funny if only for how awesomely fake his reactions are.
“Nickyyyy,” comes Joe’s voice from behind them. Before Nick has a chance to react, Joe sweeps him into an arm lock. “Figured you could use some help,” Joe tells David solemnly.
David mimes wiping sweat off his brow and says, “For real, dude, you got here just in time.”
Joe lets Nick go after making him promise to tame his “violent urges,” and David drains the sink. It’s worth noting that he’s still not wearing a shirt. Nick knows from previous conversations that the David Henrie philosophy on shirt-wearing is that clothes impede freedom (freedom of what, Nick always wanted to ask) and besides, it gets up to 120 degrees in Arizona in the summer so what the fuck do you need a shirt for? (David’s words, not Nick’s.)
Joe claps David on the back. “You’d better put a shirt on, young man,” he advises in a perfect imitation of their mom’s being-stern-with-Frankie voice, and Nick cracks up. It’s just like Joe to know exactly what he’s thinking. He catches sight of the clock on the wall next to the kitchenette and makes a face because getting back to their regularly scheduled programming is the last thing he wants to do right now, in light of last night and… last night.
He bites his lip and ignores the tug of his heart in his chest. It was a kiss, a mistake, something meaningless, nothing more, and even if it wasn’t… well. It had to be.
“We should go. You know how Dad gets when we’re late.”
--
Things over on the Jonas bus are surprisingly the same. Nick supposes it’s a little bigheaded to assume everyone else would be affected by the planes of his own existence shifting so extensively over the past twelve hours, but everything is so stiflingly normal that he begins to doubt whether their Jersey adventure and its aftermath actually happened at all.
They walk in to find Frankie already dressed in the little tracksuit he wears to rehearsal, sitting at the table and sucking on a juice box. Kevin is beside him in a white undershirt and sweatpants, face shielded from view by the New York Times, and their mother bustles in from the bunk area, a mound of dirty clothing in her hands. Thank God for the Laundromat down the street, which is probably where she’s headed.
“When you boys said ‘sleepover,’ I didn’t realize that meant staying half of the following day as well,” she admonishes, but her tone is kind. She’s picked up on their waning enthusiasm for the circus lifestyle, Nick’s sure of it. He’ll catch her watching him sometimes with this look on her face like she knows something’s amiss but isn’t quite sure how to broach the subject.
“David made me chocolate chip pancakes,” Joe says seriously. “You’re lucky I didn’t stay forever.”
She laughs. “Well, before you move over there, Joseph, I’d like to point out that I don’t see David doing your laundry. Nicholas, did you eat?”
“Toast,” Joe supplies before Nick has a chance to open his mouth and she nods, satisfied, stepping aside to let them pass.
Joe goes first, tugging off his shirt as they proceed to the bunk area. It’s not like Nick hasn’t seen his brother shirtless before (not only are they brothers, they live on a freaking bus), but he can feel the tips of his ears growing hot anyway. He takes off his own shirt and opens the drawer underneath his bunk, pulling out his practice leotard and willing the feeling to go away. He purposely doesn’t look at his brother as he strips naked.
“So it was cool staying at David’s,” Joe remarks from beside him, and Nick hears the soft whump that means his brother’s jeans have hit the floor.
“We should do it more often,” Nick says as casually as he can manage, pulling the stretchy Lycra up over his chest and hoping Joe doesn’t think it means what happened after David went to bed. “It was nice to get away from this dumb bus for once.”
Joe laughs in agreement and Nick looks up to grin at him. Joe’s standing by his bunk completely naked, holding his leotard in one hand, and Nick flushes red and averts his eyes.
Joe doesn’t say anything - Nick’s not even sure his brother knows he looked - but he feels guilty anyway. On impulse he grabs the hoody he got from his old gymnastics school that’s been languishing in the bottom of his drawer for ages now because of the heat, but in light of whatever’s going on with Joe he thinks it best to show as little skin as possible. He’s not sure how this is going to work when they get to the actual rehearsing part - he’ll have to wrap himself around his brother in a series of contorted positions, their skin separated by nothing more than some thin, satiny fabric - but he supposes he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
“Cool?” Joe asks (fully dressed now, thank God).
Nick forces a smile. “Absolutely.”
---<---<---@
Part Two.
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Art: Cover, David, Kevin, Nick & Joe, by squigglepie.
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest. AU. David Clayton Henrie.
Pairing: Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas, David Henrie/Nick Jonas, Miley Cyrus/Nick Jonas
Word Count: ~21,000
Summary: They begin with a small list of tour dates, just a summer thing along the coast in order to do something their father calls “gauging interest.” Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to brand them as just a gymnastic act so he appoints a skeptical Kevin as ringmaster and even involves little Frankie in the proceedings, despite him being just five years old. The Jonas Brothers Circus soon grows to accommodate some of the Jonai's real-life Disney compatriots as it tours across the country, leaving good and bad memories in its wake.
Disclaimer: Oh, no, I don’t own the JoBros, yo. ...Whoa.
Author's Notes: Written for rpf_big_bang; my artist was squigglepie. Thanks to amory_vain for looking this over. So way back in January, a cheaper and less cool version of Cirque Du Soleil had a set of performances at the theatre where I work. As an usher, you have nothing to do but stare blankly at a show you've seen five times before, or write fic in your head. I think you know which I chose.
---<---<---@
It’s fair to say that the patriarch of the Jonas family has always had a strict plan for his offspring. He’s been in the business for years - management, not performance, but he wanted his kids in the spotlight rather than behind the scenes. He enrolled Nick in gymnastics as soon as he was old enough to walk, bought Joe a little unicycle and tried his damnedest to get Kevin interested in the trapeze, but his two elder sons weren’t having any of it. Nick really took to the gymnastics, though, and Frankie seemed to express a keen interest in juggling (albeit from his high chair), so at least fifty percent of the next generation of Jonases weren’t complete and utter failures. At least there was that.
The day Joe accompanied his mother to pick Nick up from practice and came home begging for lessons, Paul Kevin Sr. took the family out for ice cream.
--
When Nick was nine his father bought a bunch of floor mats and set them up in the basement (“We could be doing this for real in a few years, Nicholas, if you think you can make the grade”) and Nick practiced every single day. He was a serious kid, quiet and focused, and by the time he was eleven the local sports center had run out of classes hard enough for him. His father signed him up with a coach in Manhattan, and as soon as Joe caught up to his level, the three of them braved rush hour traffic three times a week and every other Saturday.
--
“Do you ever…” Joe begins one day, cutting himself off with a muttered “Whoa” as Nick wobbles slightly above him. He’s on all fours on one of the floor mats with Nick’s left foot planted firmly on his back as the right slowly extends out above them. They’re practicing for… something. Some minor-league gymnastics tournament, probably. Nick won’t remember the context when he looks back on this, only the conversation.
Nick crouches, re-gauges his balance and presses his palms against the flat planes of Joe’s upper back before lifting off with his leg. He eases into a split, realigns his body weight so it’s all resting on one hand and then lifts himself up in favor of a finishing flourish.
“Do I what?” he asks, pushing off and doing a graceful backwards flip. He lands with his weight equally interspersed between both feet - a perfect gymnastic dismount.
Joe rises, relaxes his posture. “Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if Dad wasn’t so intense about everything?”
Nick blinks. Every family has an unspoken something that every member is aware of but no-one ever talks about, and in the Jonas family, Paul Kevin Sr.’s single-mindedness is it.
“I can’t imagine that,” Nick says thoughtfully. It’s not as if he hasn’t wondered that himself from time to time but when his father’s into something it kind of sweeps everybody else along, and ultimately he’s just not the type of kid who thinks outside the box of his parents’ wishes. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Dad’s… helping us realize our dream, that’s all, by putting a strong, um, foundation in place.” (He realizes he sounds like his father, pauses, collects himself.) “He just wants us to go places with our talent rather than let it go to waste.”
“Yeah.” Joe bends his right leg at the knee and starts his cool-down routine. “Yeah, I guess.” He switches legs. “I’m glad Dad cares about our future and stuff, I just wish he wasn’t so…”
Nick sighs. “Intense was a good word.” He makes a face before continuing, “It’s not all bad though, you know? I mean, I love gymnastics and so do you - and it’s totally awesome that we get to do it together.”
Joe grins at him. He doesn’t have the same talent as Nick, the innate lithe gracefulness with which his younger brother carries himself, but he works hard and he’s damn skilled at what he does. “I can’t imagine us not being a double act. I feel like we’d end up…” He pauses to think of a good word. “Like, united in some way, whether Dad had plans for us or not.”
“That’s the cool thing about it,” Nick says authoritatively, nodding in agreement as he stretches out his hamstrings. “Whatever we do, we’re in it together, no questions asked.”
--
Everything seems to move very quickly after that. The boys are signed up for more classes at the gymnastics school in the city while Kevin is propelled into joining the public speaking club at school, which he agrees to with his usual affable attitude. Additionally, all three of them keep walking in on hushed conversations between their parents that are suddenly halted as soon as their presence is felt. Something’s going on, but they don’t find out what until they come home from school one day to find their father deep in conversation with a couple of guys in business suits while their mom sits opposite, looking on. Paul Kevin Sr. looks up at them with this expression that’s half guilty, half excited, and Nick gets a sudden inexplicable feeling in his chest that nothing’s ever going to be the same again.
“Boys,” he says after he’s introduced the guys (one’s a loan something-or-other, the other a tour manager), “I suppose now is as good a time to tell you as any, so let’s get this show on the road.”
It turns out that isn’t a metaphor.
--
It feels like they barely have time to blink before contracts are signed, trailers are viewed and paid for, schedules drawn up, edited and reconfirmed. They begin with a small list of tour dates, just a summer thing along the coast in order to do something their father calls “gauging interest.” Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to brand them as just a gymnastic act so he appoints a skeptical Kevin as ringmaster and even involves little Frankie in the proceedings, despite him being just five years old. Frank’s juggling skills are semi-honed at best, but their father’s reasoning is that the audience will fall in love with his chubby little-kid face in lieu of his talent.
Essentially, Nick is one year away from graduating middle school and his whole family’s about to run away to join the circus.
--
To say the Jonas Brothers Circus’ Inaugural East Coast Extravaganza is a hit would be like calling an Oscar-winner moderately successful. In fact, things start snowballing so fast that Nick can barely keep up. The response from the public is electric, which means the media attention is positive, which in turn prompts their father to book consecutive nationwide tours until the end of time. The boys are pulled out of school as soon as Nick completes eighth grade, Joe completes tenth and Kevin graduates, at which point - and this is the worst part - their father sells their house in Jersey. Nick’s in shock. They all kind of are.
But at least along the way they pick up some traveling companions, all of whom help make life on the road a little more bearable. There’s David, a sword-swallowing magician fresh from a carnival in Arizona; Demi and Selena, best friends from Texas who are stunning on the tightrope; and Dylan and Cole, twin trapeze artists from California whose mother Melanie, an ex-performer herself who now works as a makeup artist, comes along for the ride. The troupe is small enough for there to be an intimate air to their shows but sufficiently large (with all of the acts going on at least twice) for a ninety-minute extravaganza.
Nick tells himself he’s lucky that God blessed him with this extraordinary level of talent, and even luckier to leave school just days after his middle school graduation - with parental approval, no less. He says it so many times to the small-town journalists and to his family and to his friends back home (the ones who slowly but surely stop calling) that he actually begins to believe it. He believes it for the entire year, all the way across America, and it isn’t until they get to California that he begins to think otherwise. He watches Dylan and Cole leave to visit family in Long Beach while Demi and Selena fly back to Texas and David returns to Scottsdale, and realizes his family has nowhere to go. The closest thing any of them has to a home these days is the bus he can’t wait to get away from but no, his father’s big plan for their “break” involves them sitting in a trailer park for two weeks until the other members of the troupe come back - at which point they’ll turn the whole procession around and start road-tripping to Boston to begin their second cross-country tour in as many years (which, seriously, fuck Nick’s life because the bus is the very last place he wants to be).
What prevents him from just giving up and, like, running away or something (aside from the omnipresent and nearly crippling fear of paternal ire, because Nick Jonas is nothing if not a Good Kid) is his brothers - little juggling Frankie and ringmaster Kevin and Joe, his partner in crime. Whenever one of them has flagging spirits or a case of the blues the others - even Frankie - will talk him out of it. They never discuss it, the way they keep each other afloat, but when it comes right down to it they don’t actually need to. All they know is that they’re in this together, no questions asked.
--
When Paul Kevin Sr. start talking about the possibility of Miley Cyrus joining the Jonas Brothers Circus for its second nationwide tour, it’s a huge thing - not least because she’ll get top billing on all the posters.
“But the circus is named after us,” grumbles Frankie, dragging one of his new juggling clubs along the ground with enough force to leave a trail in the dirt of whatever lot they’re parked in that day. Nick cuffs him lightly around the ear and tells him to be nice, even though he secretly agrees.
The thing is, Miley’s dad is a big deal on the show circuit. He produces Cirque in Vegas, which Miley’s been performing in since she was twelve years old. The day Billy Ray flies out to meet them all and seal the deal, Nick’s dad is so nervous he’s practically vibrating. He flubs his welcome speech about seven separate times until Kevin steps forward, shows Billy Ray a program and lists all the acts they have to offer and the cities they’ve performed in. By the time he's done, Paul Kevin Sr. has downed three glasses of water and almost stopped sweating, which works out favorably for everyone involved. Nick notices the tips of Joe’s ears turning red when Billy Ray keeps calling the circus a “cute little enterprise,” so he pokes his brother surreptitiously and refuses to stop until he sees a smile.
The upshot of all this is that Miley gets officially contracted, and Paul Kevin hopes to capitalize upon this to maximum effect by plastering the words “STARRING MILEY CYRUS OF CIRQUE DU SOLEIL” in huge letters on all the promotional materials. Needless to say, it gets them press. The deal is this: Miley’ll join the tour in New York and travel with them all the way to Vegas, at which point she’ll resume performing with Cirque. Everyone’s kind of intrigued about why she’s taking the summer off to travel with a family-run circus but no-one’s tactless enough to wonder about this out loud - with the exception of Frankie, who won’t stop until somebody shushes him.
--
They discuss the Miley situation at dinner - or more specifically right afterwards, over dessert. (For all his gripes about bus life, Nick has to admit it’s pretty awesome to see people’s faces when they park their buses in the lot of some tiny ice cream place and the whole troupe walks through the door.)
Tonight Taylor joined them at the dinner table for a while, slinking back to the bus she shares with Demi and Selena soon after Frankie’s bedtime. Taylor’s story is an interesting one - she ran away from a Pennsylvania Christmas tree farm to make it big as a country singer in Nashville, but the circus picked her up along the way. She was eighteen by then, living in an apartment with three other girls who had big dreams and little money, so when Nick’s father offered her a job at the concessions stand she jumped at the chance. Apparently Taylor’s parents tracked her down somehow and asked to come see her but she said no, please don’t, I don’t want to be found yet. She promised them she’d write but never does.
“What do you think she’ll be like?” Kevin asks after dinner one night, licking the last drips of ice cream off his spoon.
Kevin’s question comes at a tangent, but Joe and Nick both know he’s referring to Miley. Joe scoops the last of the Baskin Robbins from his Styrofoam cup as Nick watches, nibbling at his tasteless, diabetic-approved candy bar and trying his best to pretend he isn’t jealous.
“I Googled her,” Joe says with a grin, sneaking a quick glance towards the back of the bus before whispering, “Let me just say, those wireless chip thingies Mom and Dad bought us? Cooler than Jesus.”
Nick kicks his brother in the shin and tells himself it’s more about the blasphemy than the ice cream.
“I YouTubed her, too,” Joe continues. “She looks really good in a leotard.”
Kevin rolls his eyes from across the table.
“Is she as talented as everyone says she is?” Nick asks, hoping to get the conversation back on track. He knows almost everything about the guys in Cirque - they’re his heroes, and he’s going to have to try really hard not to fanspaz if Miley ever mentions them in casual conversation - but he doesn’t study the girls with the same intensity. After all, they’re not direct competition.
Joe looks like he’s considering making some off-color comment, but Kevin gives him a Look and he sighs, defeated.
“She’s awesome,” he says instead. “I don’t know, the clips were pretty bad quality but she was doing all these insane acrobatics. You know, hanging from a strip of fabric by, like, one fingernail or whatever.”
Nick nods. “Typical Cirque.” He chomps resolutely at his faux candy bar and tries to remember the taste of real chocolate. “I think she’ll be a worthwhile addition to the company.”
Joe just stares at him. “Are you Dad?”
“No,” Nick retorts just as Kevin protests, “Dad’s not that bad” - a lie, but it’s virtually impossible for Kevin to accept someone talking badly about somebody else. “And for the record,” Nick continues, breaking his silence on the matter at last, “I’m as mad about Miley’s top billing as you are. We are this circus. It has our name on it.”
“Ha!” Joe chortles delightedly, clapping his brother on the back. Even Kevin agrees. He won’t say anything outright, of course, but his cheeks go pink and his lips twitch in the way that means he’s trying to stop himself from smiling.
--
They’re due to begin with two weeks of pre-Miley shows in Boston so everybody can get their routine down before things really kick off in New York. Miley doesn’t have to rehearse with everyone else because she already has her performance down pat and Paul Kevin Sr. doesn’t want to insult her talent, or something. That pisses Nick off, the way he acts like she’s royalty. Two of his own sons are good enough for Cirque!
Of course there’s also the fact that Miley won’t be interacting with anybody else onstage except during the finale, so they’re basically just going to pick her up before jumping straight into performing. From New York they’ll head west, wending their way across America one empty lot at a time.
--
Nick likes Boston a lot, especially at this time of year. On their first tour - the East Coast one - he and his brothers had explored Boston Common. They’d found a baseball diamond right in the heart of it, completely devoid of people because it was noon and probably too hot for anyone sane to be out. Joe broke off a tree branch and made it into a bat while Kevin procured a slightly soggy tennis ball from what may or may not have been the jowls of a local dog, and they had the most awesome game of baseball that any of them can remember. Frankie was so young then, and although they let him play it didn’t really count for anything because he kept running regardless of who caught the ball or where it landed, sliding spectacularly into home base with the kind of gleeful whoop no adult can ever hope to replicate.
They mean to go back there this time, sans Frankie because their parents decide to take him to the Boston Children’s Museum on their day off, but Kevin distracts everyone by saying he read something about part of the “Will & Grace” set being installed at Emerson College. Emerson is right opposite the Common so they spend the best part of an hour fruitlessly attempting to beg, borrow or steal a way in from some of the students standing outside smoking. Most of the guys Nick talks to end up being really, really gay, and Nick’s always looked older than his age so he kind of gets hit on a lot. Kevin finally drags him away while Joe laughs and laughs.
--
They “pitch their tent,” as Frankie calls it, in this lot next to the Charles River, and Paul Kevin Sr. treats the entire company to suites at a hotel downtown. The Tipton has fluffy beds and warm breakfasts and hot girls at the front desk which means everyone’s priorities are taken care of, ensuring they’re all happy and rested by opening night.
--
Even though Joe and Nick have been through their routine a million times, the bright lights and buzz of audience chatter make everything feel so different. It’s been a while, and Nick won’t lie - he’s missed this. He dips his hands in the chalk bucket and peers through one of the side curtains, gauging the mood of the crowd. A chin rests on his shoulder and Nick doesn’t even have to look to know whose it is.
“What’s up, Nick J.?”
Nick sort of shrugs. “Y’know.”
“Hmm.” Joe tilts his head, angling his mouth next to Nick’s ear and murmuring, “First night jitters?”
“Nah,” Nick scoffs, a too-scornful laugh bubbling around the lie. He bets Joe can see right through him, but will hopefully decide not to give him a hard time.
And sure enough, all Joe says is “Me either” in his knowing Joe way before clapping Nick on the back and reminding him “We’re up next” as if there’s a real chance Nick doesn’t know.
Demi and Selena are out there at the moment, doing their tightrope thing to a chorus of oohs and aahs. Demi’s poised in a perfect arabesque, leg extended out behind her with her back ramrod straight, supporting her best friend’s weight. Nick watches Selena swing downwards, Demi propelling her into a flip. Demi doesn’t look it, but she’s strong as well as graceful. Nick bets she’ll end up in Cirque one day, no doubt about it, and it couldn’t happen to a nicer girl.
The pair finish the routine and the lights are lowered, along with the tightrope. Joe lays a firm, guiding hand against the small of Nick’s back and they stand poised and ready while Kevin, looking dapper in his new red ringmaster suit, walks out to deliver the familiar segue:
“And because we like to keep it in the family here at the Jonas Brothers Circus, I want to take this opportunity to introduce my brothers, Nick and Joe Jonaaaaaaaaaas!”
“Go,” Joe hisses, but Nick’s already off, back-flipping his way into the gaze of their public. Whatever hardships come with a transient lifestyle, he loves performing, lives for it, and to have Joe next to him while Kevin and Frankie and their parents look on… it’s pretty incredible, having his family so involved in this. He gets into position and waits for the music.
--
The show is a good one, for an opener. There are some weird points, missed cues or whatever, so it isn’t perfect but it’s good enough to be proud of. The whole company comes together backstage after the final curtain call: Nick’s mom and dad and all three of his brothers, Selena, Demi, David, Taylor, Dylan and Cole… even Melanie gets in on the action. They join hands in a big circle and pray out loud, thanking God for their health, their talents and their opening show not being a disaster. By the time they get back to the Tipton it’s past everyone’s bedtime, and some of the performers are practically asleep on their feet. Frankie’s flaked out completely on Kevin’s shoulder and Joe almost manages to draw a moustache on his little brother’s face in washable marker, but their dad catches him at the very last second.
Nick doesn’t always mind living on the bus when they’re traveling, but the comforts of a real bed and a luxuriously spacious bathroom truly can’t be beaten. When they stay at hotels, Kevin shares with Frankie while Nick rooms with Joe; it’s like, tradition or something. They get a double bed each but Nick often crawls in with his brother and that’s the way it’s been for ages, since way before the circus thing.
Tonight Joe showers first before tucking himself into bed, flipping through the hotel channels while the steaming water pounds Nick's muscles. Nick ambles out in his pajama pants, shirtless and half asleep. Joe looks over at him and grins.
“C’mere, Fro Bro.”
Nick scowls and smoothes down his damp hair. Joe’s doesn’t look much better in its non-flat-ironed state but Nick’s is the curliest out of everyone’s, so the endearment sticks. Joe shuts off the TV, shifting over to the far side of the bed so Nick can climb in, the starched sheets warm from Joe’s body heat. Nick snuggles down under the comforter, hooks his ankle around his brother’s leg and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
--
New York comes too quickly. They’ve only been in Boston for a couple of weeks but Nick doesn’t want to leave yet. The place kind of just started to feel like home - not in the same sense as Jersey, of course, but it’s somewhere to settle, somewhere safe, not bright-lights-big-city like New York is, like Vegas. There are areas of Boston with narrow streets and brick sidewalks that almost make him forget he’s in an urban setting, though at the same time there’s easy access to all the perks a capital city should have. The Loews by the Common shows twenty films at once and the subway system, the “T,” is so much easier to understand than the New York subway because everything’s divided into colors: green, blue, red, orange, and Joe’s personal favorite, silver. On the second-to-last day, Nick gets a “Charlie Card” - a transportation pass the locals use - just to feel a part of the place, to bring a memento of the city with him.
He knows he should probably use the card at least once before they leave tomorrow, but it’s such a nice evening that he just wants to walk. Now that most of the commuters have gone home the city feels so spacious, like it’s been holding its breath all day and just now has the chance to exhale. He crosses Boylston Street and walks down Newbury, Boston’s small-scale version of Fifth Avenue. There’s an awesome store called Newbury Comics about halfway down, with its stock of band shirts and really inappropriate badges (“The only Bush I like is my own” made Kevin blush and Joe burst out laughing) and even some vinyl, right at the back.
He’s kind of dreading New York. Not just because of Miley, but its proximity to Jersey. For Nick - for all of them - Jersey is full of memories, a real life, a proper home. He loves what they’re doing now, he does, but there are times he really wishes he could go back to that familiar house just off Cedar Hill at the very, very end of Lakeview Drive. The street was aptly named, with the waters of Goffle Brook chuckling away behind the house during the summertime and freezing over in the winter.
Nick even misses school. It wasn’t always easy or enjoyable, but since the family went on the road and he and Joe started being homeschooled, the only people he interacts with are the circus kids. They’re awesome, don’t get him wrong, but they’re just as transient as he is.
Sometimes he needs some stability, is all he’s saying.
He ends up at the Public Garden, crosses Charles South and heads for the Common. If he has to say goodbye to his home away from home, it might as well be here. He passes the Frog Pond, closed to paddlers as it’s after six, and makes his way over to the baseball diamond. No-one’s playing but he sees a figure up in the rickety tiered benches that act as makeshift bleachers, silhouetted in the sunset of the fading summer evening. Nick knows that hair. He’d know that hair anywhere.
Joe looks up as Nick walks through the gap in the chain link fence, saying nothing until his brother clambers up next to him. “You know, it’s so much quicker if you take the T.”
Nick rolls his eyes and just smiles. He considers asking why Joe’s here but he’s already pretty sure he knows the answer. Back when they went to regular school, this pair of twins in Nick’s class had been showing off in the playground, claiming to be able to read each other’s minds. Joe alone was unimpressed, proclaiming loudly, “That’s easy - me and my brother can do that too!” before marching off haughtily with Nick in tow. It’s not strictly true, the mind-reading thing, but they sure do have a sixth sense about each other, a closeness Nick doesn’t share with Kevin or Frankie. He’s unsure if it’s due to the similarity in age or the fact that they spend so much time together, but either way, it’s pretty cool.
Joe quirks his eyebrow in a what’s-up-Nick-J-I-know-you’re-down kind of way and Nick shrugs. Joe makes a face but slings his arm around his brother anyway, and Nick leans the side of his head against Joe’s shoulder. It probably looks weird to anyone who happens to be watching, but it’s just because they’re brothers and they’re close.
--
It’s a four-hour drive from Boston to New York, but it feels a lot longer. The cramped confines of the bus seem so foreign after a fortnight at the Tipton with two to a suite, and the fact that Paul Kevin Sr. isn’t springing for hotel rooms in New York is another downer. Frankie’s whiny, which gets their parents irritable, which makes even Kevin’s perpetual cheerfulness begin to seem strained. Joe and Nick escape to Nick’s bunk, pulling at the privacy curtain and flopping against each other in an attempt to maximize space. Joe props his head up with his right hand, elbow digging into Nick’s armpit.
“I got you something,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?” Nick whispers back, which is fairly unnecessary considering that Frankie’s yelling shrilly not twenty feet away and their father’s booming chastisements that all end in “young man” - a sure sign this argument is going to go on for a while.
“Remember when I bought those postcards?” and yeah, Nick does, because they ended up taking the T back the previous day so Nick could say he’d used his Charlie Card, and Park Street Station is like, the souvenir capital of Boston. “I got something else as well, when you weren’t paying attention. Look under your pillow.”
Curiously, Nick does, and finds a paper bag that rustles when he removes it. He glances up uncertainly and Joe makes a motion with his hand that says open it, so he does. Inside is a little snow globe of the Public Garden, complete with wildfowl and swan boats. It’s probably the nicest thing anybody’s ever thought to give him.
“They didn’t have any of the Common,” Joe says apologetically. “Best I could -”
Nick hugs him fiercely, cutting him off right in the middle of his sentence. “I don’t care, you idiot,” he hisses into Joe’s ear, trying his best not to yield to the choking sob of gratitude that’s building in his throat.
Joe pats him on the back - an attempt, Nick presumes, at injecting some masculinity into the situation - but he ends up pulling Nick close anyway, brushing his brother’s baby-smooth cheek with his own haltingly stubbled one.
“You too,” he murmurs, nudging Nick’s cheekbone with his nose. His lips catch the side of Nick’s jaw and Nick shivers slightly, holds him tighter. Maybe they are closer than brothers should be, closer in the way that would make Dad frown if he ever picked up on it, but it doesn’t seem to worry Joe so Nick figures everything’s okay. Joe is Nick’s guide stick when it comes to this kind of stuff. If Joe doesn’t see anything wrong with it, Nick doesn’t either.
--
So Miley’s actually pretty cool. Nick’s never shown much of an interest in girls but, yeah, she’s okay. Of course, she name-drops all of Nick’s favorite Cirque stars within five minutes of meeting him, so that probably has a lot to do with it. The two of them chat tent-side while Nick’s father bustles around trying to make sure the Big Top is secure, bellowing about safety hooks and acting all annoyed about Frankie being underfoot. Nick grabs his little brother on Frankie’s next rampage past, tells him, “This is Miley Cyrus. Why don’t you introduce yourself?” and laughs along with her when he responds in horror “Ewww, a girl!” and wriggles away.
“It’s fine,” Miley assures after Nick apologizes, although it comes out more like fan in her lilting Southern accent. “As long as you don’t agree with him.”
“Uh?” Nick responds intelligently.
Her eyes twinkle. “Do you like girls, Nicky?” and, wow, the only people who call him that are Joe and sometimes his mom when he’s sick. It’s disconcerting to hear somebody else use it so casually. He’s not sure how he feels about it.
“Some,” he says opaquely because he doesn’t really want to make a blanket statement either way, and she flashes him a huge, brilliant grin.
--
From the way Miley marvels over David’s biceps, musses Dylan’s hair and adjusts the starched collar on Kevin’s ringmaster jacket before each show, Nick figures she’s just a flirty person, but everyone else seems to disagree.
“Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” his mother says knowingly, and Nick laughs it off but begins to wonder. Miley does seem to trail after him rather frequently (or walk on her hands when she’s showing off, which is a lot), making conversation and asking questions and inviting him over for “girls’ night” with Taylor and Selena and Demi on her personal bus. (Billy Ray is like, loaded - he paid for the driver and everything.) She touches Nick’s arm and tugs on his sleeve and “confides” in him, which really means whining about missing everything from her daddy and the Nevada heat to her suite at the Mirage and the incessant twenty-four-hour ding ding ding of the casinos. That makes no sense to Nick, because she keeps going on about escape and adventure in the same breath as missing Vegas, but he supposes you can yearn for more yet still miss home. God knows he does.
He likes Miley, sure. He’ll hang out with her and whatever, and sometimes he’ll let her do weird stuff like ruffle his hair because it seems to make her happy, but he doesn’t really think he likes her like that. He always imagined falling for a girl would entail feeling something deeper than this. All the movies, books and songs make love out to be worth fighting for, something awe-inspiring and amazing and singularly crushing all at once, with butterflies every time you see the person and fireworks every time you kiss.
When he sees Miley he just thinks, hey.
--
Something kind of dies inside Nick the day he tries to track Kevin down and ends up stumbling onto Joe and Taylor making out in the stands. It shouldn’t be a big deal - it’s not as if Joe’s raging attractiveness to members of the opposite sex is news to Nick in the slightest, but for some reason the image lodges itself inside him with a thick, residual heaviness he can’t seem to shake. He hates this. This whole thing, all of it. Joe and Taylor, Miley, everyone in his family constantly tripping over each other because they used to live in a four-bedroom house and now they’re crammed onto a freaking bus. It’s just... it’s a lot for Nick to handle.
--
The days pass as days are wont to do, and Nick wakes up one morning to realize it’s almost the end of June. They only have two New York shows left but despite his parents’ vague promises, the family never quite managed to visit their old town in Jersey. Between Joe being lame and Miley being… Miley, Nick feels so displaced right now he could scream. Sure, they both listen to him talk about how much he misses Jersey, but he doesn’t like to do that much because Joe will end up getting bummed and Miley will go on one of her “I miss Vegas” kicks and Nick will end up having to hear about the water show at the Bellagio for the tenth time that week. He yearns to visit the old mall, the old school, the old house, needing to find something of his past there - something of himself. When Paul Kevin Sr. tells him they don’t have the time, Nick - nicely-spoken, mild-mannered Nick - yells, “We never have time to do anything fun anymore!” before stomping off in a tantrum fit for Frankie. He sulks in his bunk for a while until Joe peeks around the privacy curtain, pulls him into a one-armed hug and murmurs into his hair, “You’re not the only one, Nicky, I want to go home too.”
The weird thing is that Nick gets the feeling Joe doesn’t just mean for a visit. He’s talking about wanting to move back to Wyckoff for good, with real bedrooms and pop quizzes and visiting cousins on the weekends, where Nick and Joe are Nick and Joe and there’s no Miley or Taylor or their father’s stupid overblown ambitions interfering. A knot twists painfully in his stomach as he thinks about how desperately he wants the same thing.
Joe pats Nick on the back until Nick gets his breathing under control. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly.
Nick wants to say something bitchy like “Now you have time for me?” because he’s not quite as okay with this Taylor thing as he pretends to be, but Joe feels very warm next to him and it’s comforting, so instead he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to admit to himself quite how much he’s missed this.
“So how’s Miley?”
Nick involuntarily tenses at the question and Joe goes “Ohhh” under his breath.
“No, everything’s fine, it’s not… it’s not like that. I don’t know why everybody’s trying to make it into something it’s not.”
Joe gives him a sidelong glance. When Nick doesn’t elaborate further, he reaches out and pulls on a sprig of Nick’s hair, straightening it all the way before releasing it and then smirking as it bounces back. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Nick doesn’t. He doesn’t want to force Joe into anything either but he needs to know, he needs to. “How’s, um. Taylor?”
Joe frowns. He withdraws his arms, pulls himself into a sitting position and rests his chin on his knees. Nick feels juvenile in comparison, lying beside his brother with his hands all curled into his pillow, so he lifts himself up and they eye each other.
“How do you know about that?” Joe asks softly. The tone he uses makes it sound like he’s just found out Nick read his personal diary or something. “Is that what all this has been about? You walking around like there’s a storm cloud over your head for the past, like, two weeks?”
“I saw you,” Nick responds flatly. “You know, in the stands.”
“Ah.” Joe sighs. “It’s. It’s kind of nothing. I would’ve told you if it was something.”
“Are you sure she thinks that?”
Joe makes a face at him. “No,” he says honestly. “She thinks we’re like, in love, and I sort of let her believe it, I guess, but…”
“You shouldn’t, Joe,” and Nick’s really not sure why he feels the need to admonish his brother when he doesn’t even really like Taylor. “Girls hate to be led on like that.”
“Right, and you’re going to sit here and pretend you’re not doing exactly the same thing with Miley?”
Nick really doesn’t want to address this right now. He looks down and pretends to suddenly be captivated by the bed sheets. “I don’t know, it’s not like I had much of a say in it. She thinks what she thinks and I can’t think of a polite way to tell her I’m not interested.”
“That’s not a very good excuse,” Joe points out pragmatically and, wow, since when is Joe the voice of reason?
Instead Nick leans forward, crooks his hand around the back of Joe’s neck and pulls him close, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. “I really miss Wyckoff,” he says quietly in lieu of defending himself.
Joe lifts a hand, ruffles Nick’s curls and lets the Miley thing go. “Me too, Nicky,” he murmurs in a voice thick with emotion. “Me too.”
--
So David Henrie is kind of Nick’s hero. He takes one look at the two of them before the show and asks, “Why so glum, chums?” which effectively drags the whole sorry homesickness story out of them in less than a minute. David’s easy to confide in. Turns out he has his license and is totally pumped to drive semi-illegally (he’s “not entirely sure” whether he’s allowed to drive outside of Arizona, something Joe doesn’t care about and Nick decides to conveniently overlook) so they plan to sneak out after the show is over, under cover of darkness. David tells Dylan and Cole’s mom that he’s going to stay with the Jonases while Joe informs his parents he and Nick are sleeping over at David’s, because Nick can’t tell a convincing lie if his life depends on it. They let Kevin in on the plan and ask if he wants to come along but after trying to talk them out of it he declines, saying it’s good to have someone know where they are in case there’s a problem.
Things aren’t the same for Kevin anymore. It’s not that he isn’t fond of the old house and school and familiar neighborhood, he’s just… not particularly bummed about moving on. Nick supposes it makes sense considering Kevin would be in college now if they, you know, had normal lives. Maybe Kevin was getting cabin fever, living in Jersey. Maybe for him, the circus came along at just the right time.
Throughout their entire show, Nick’s buzzing with anticipation. He pours himself into his act even more than usual, giving the proverbial 110%, but nothing can extinguish his nervous energy. When he runs backstage hand-in-hand with Joe after the last round of curtain calls, he catches David’s eye and smiles as his friend mouths, “One hour.” There’s not a lot to do after the show aside from sweeping the stands and moving some of the equipment so Nick really puts his back into it, impatiently willing the time to pass.
When he and Joe finally slip away, they find David waiting for them in the parking lot with a grin on his face and a set of keys in his hand. He won’t tell them where he got the car and to be honest, as long as he assures them they won’t get in trouble for it, they don’t really want to know. They pile into the car, which is black because they’re being “stealth like ninjas” according to David - a concept Joe wholeheartedly approves of. Nick and Joe automatically pile into the back seat, leaving David alone in the front (“What am I, a chauffeur or something?”)
David takes I-87 out of the city and merges onto 95, crossing the George Washington Bridge and the state line. Joe points out the “WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY” sign and Nick shivers with excitement, grinning hugely at his older brother, who beams back. David puts the radio on, singing along softly whenever he hears something he knows, which turns out to be mostly lame Top 40 stuff or hip-hop. They don’t talk, for the most part, except to give David directions. It’s weird how they can go on autopilot like this even though it’s been ages since they’ve lived here, and Nick feels kind of like a homing pigeon with one set of directions burned into its brain.
When they get off at Cedar Hill, Nick’s heart starts thumping. In a strange, brotherly ESP moment, he and Joe look over at each other at the exact same time. Wordlessly, Joe squeezes his hand.
Nick summons his voice enough to direct David to “Keep going straight,” but it comes out sounding tight and strained. David glances at him in the rearview mirror and he smiles back wanly before saying, “Your next left will be, um. Lakeview Drive.”
They pass Cedar Court and then there it is, Lakeview Drive, just as he remembers it, years of returning from school, church and gymnastics lessons ensuring he won’t ever forget this sight. A bolt of familiarity hits him, coupled with the unsettling aura of change. The shrubs framing the street sign have grown unruly to the point of rendering the letters almost illegible, and someone must have removed the big stone that sat next to the sign for years, Nick notices, absolute years. It had been a boulder in the truest sense of the word, big and gray and worn completely smooth by the antics of children at play, by four pairs of juvenile Jonas butt cheeks.
“Whoa,” Joe breathes. “It looks different, Nicky, doesn’t it?”
Nick nods dumbly, not trusting his voice to hold steady. David, to his credit, says nothing, just creeps the car slowly forwards until they’re almost at the end of the cul-de-sac. Joe puts a hand on his shoulder and says quietly, “Stop here.”
And there it is, their house, their little house, nestled between the Cooks’ and the Tiemanns’ just like always, although who knows if those families still live there? The perennial swing set’s missing from the front yard and the door’s been repainted a rather lurid shade of yellow but other than that it looks the same - barring, that is, two silhouettes eerily outlined by the glow of the television in the living room. Nick feels a tug inside him and almost reaches for the handle of the car door, wanting to run across the grass and tap at the living room window just like he used to. Rationally he knows the two people are strangers, that it’s their house now, not his, but somehow his heart’s not getting the message.
Joe sits next to him, oddly subdued, and the two of them just stare for a while until David says “Uh, it’s getting late” and they nod, folding their emotions back inside them as David makes a U-turn and sets off towards home (away from home). Nobody speaks for a while, but when they pass the “WELCOME TO NEW YORK” sign, Nick glances over at Joe, who looks just about the saddest Nick’s ever seen him. His heart breaks for his brother. It breaks for himself.
--
Nick and Joe decide to crash on the Sprouse bus in the end. Explaining their presence to Melanie in the morning will be way easier than trying to explain David’s to their parents - the only problem being that all the bunks are occupied and the sole alternative is the Lilliputian sitting room’s pull-out couch that can barely fit one. Nick’s grateful for it anyway. He’s so emotionally exhausted that he flops right onto it, fully clothed. As soon as Joe drops down beside him, he closes his eyes.
“Hey,” Joe breathes, curling against him until they’re practically spooning, which isn’t hard when you consider the (lack of) space they have to work with. Nick feels some of the tension flow out of his body at the contact. “So tonight was pretty intense, huh?”
“Mm,” Nick mumbles, half asleep already, then, “I wish those people didn’t live there.”
Joe lets out a long sigh that tickles the hairs on the back of Nick’s neck. “It’s their house now,” he says, tone just a smidge too even for sincerity.
Nick opens his eyes, frowns, and rolls over. “It’s our house, Joe,” he says fiercely. “It’ll always be ours.”
Joe’s eyes get big for a second like he’s surprised by the strength of Nick’s reaction, but then he bites his lip and looks away. Nick can see all the bravado go out of him. “I know it is, Nicky, I… I’m just trying to, I don’t know, look on the bright side. Kevin’s so good at that, and he never seems to miss home.”
“It’s ‘cause Kevin would’ve moved out anyway,” Nick says unsteadily. “It’s different for us. It wasn’t time for us to leave. We should be in school, Joe. We should live in, like, a real community, play on school sports teams and go to Bible study on Tuesday nights.”
Joe regards him very seriously for a second, and usually Nick can read his brother’s expressions with ease but this is a new one. He’s about to ask why Joe has such a weird look on his face when Joe tips his head forward and kisses him, just like that.
Nick kind of stops thinking - at least consciously - when he feels his brother’s cool, dry lips on his own. Joe tastes minty-fresh, like the toothpaste jammed into the overnight bag alongside their clothes, and when his brother licks gently into his mouth something far in the back of his mind notes that this should probably be feeling a lot weirder than it actually does. Hesitantly, he kisses back. He has an absurd moment of is this okay before throwing caution to the wind and slipping his tongue inside his brother’s mouth.
When Joe rolls on top of him Nick reacts instinctively, making a small, puzzled noise at the friction between their bodies. Joe starts moving a little bit, getting into it, and Nick’s hips twitch at every motion. He knows this isn’t right, but at the same time it feels beautifully so - almost comforting. It’s not like it’s perfect - he keeps jerking upwards and Joe’s kissing him more messily now, with little wet smacks and a languid desperation, but it works somehow. It fits. Like they’re moving to their own melodies.
When his heart rate accelerates to the point at which he can barely discern one beat from the next, he pulls away for fear that something inside him will burst.
“Hey,” he manages over the pounding in his ears, “we should…”
Joe nods and flops against his shoulder, sort of petting his hair and whispering “Sorry,” his ragged breaths coming as hot plumes of air against Nick’s neck. It sounds like he’s trying to get his body under control as much as Nick is, maybe panicking like his little brother too (because oh, God, they are, they’re brothers).
Nick waits until the hammering inside his chest has slowed before putting a hand on Joe’s back and rubbing smooth, soothing circles. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but eventually Joe’s breathing becomes deep and even. Nick carefully eases his brother off before curling up next to him out of equal parts spatial necessity and force of habit, mulling over what just happened in a very detached, sleepy way. He falls asleep in the middle of wondering why it felt more like home than anything else has in months.
--
When Nick awakens the next morning, Joe’s hand is splayed across his chest. His first inclination is to jab Joe with his elbow and say something about hogging the bed but then memories of last night come rushing back with all the stinging velocity of a slap in the face. He actually gasps - it’s too big to keep inside - and of course that wakes Joe up.
Joe’s not a morning person. His eyelashes flutter for a few seconds before he stretches and accidentally socks Nick in the jaw, which makes absolutely certain they’re both awake. Joe’s eyes fly open and he looks at Nick with this half-crazed, half-confused expression like he’s trying to figure out where he is. Nick can totally tell when he gets the so-here’s-what-you-did-last-night brain sync because it flickers across his face like every pantomime of oh shit Nick’s ever seen. His gaze flickers away and then returns, but waveringly.
“Uhhm, hey,” Nick says finally, because this? Is kind of awkward.
The confused look is back. Joe leans forward for a second like he’s going for a repeat performance or something but then he stops himself, blinks and says, “Well. Okay. Good morning, Nicky” like nothing happened.
Nick kind of nods back at him, unsure what to say now that hey is off the list. He’s never felt like this around Joe before, uncertain of his own words, wondering where the line is and how not to cross it. They never had a line before. It was one of the things that set Joe apart from everyone else.
There’s a weird silence for what’s probably only a couple of seconds but feels a hell of a lot longer, which is blessedly interrupted by David barreling into the room in his bouncy David Henrie way. He has a spatula in one hand and a pair of low-cut Levis hugging his hips. Nick kind of stutters to see him shirtless because damn, but he can feel Joe falter beside him, which is kind of reassuring. At least he knows it’s not just him.
“Whooooo wants pancakes?” David asks, sort of dancing into the kitchenette area. He opens one of the cupboards, pulls out a bundled wad of fabric that turns into a Kiss the Cook apron, and ties it around his waist with a flourish. David is obviously a morning person.
Nick and Joe exchange glances, unsure what to make of this new development. After all, David had seemed relatively sane up until this point. The only other morning people they know are Kevin, who’s clearly a freak, and Frankie sometimes, but that’s governed more by the television guide than his natural circadian rhythms.
“Nick, I forget - can you eat pancakes?”
“I’m fine with just toast,” Nick says politely because he doesn’t need to bum everyone out with his stupid diabetes, and Joe’s half a beat behind him with, “Yo, David, got any chocolate chips in those cupboards?” Nick elbows him for his rudeness and Joe beams back beatifically as if the years and years of manners drilled into his head by their mother have flown right out again, just like that.
The smell of food soon rouses Melanie and the twins, who enter from the bunk area in various degrees of dishevelment. They’re obviously not morning people either, which makes David the freak of this household just as Kevin is back on the Jonas bus. The twins aim sleepy high-fives in David’s direction while Melanie pats his arm gratefully and smiles, brown eyes dancing.
Nick thinks it’s so cool how they welcomed David into their family. When David first got contracted, living arrangements were kind of an issue because every performer aside from the brothers was female, and David would’ve ended up having to crash on the Jonas bus (which really didn’t need any more people) but for the fact that Paul Kevin Sr. discovered Dylan and Cole. He was all pumped because the circus needed a trapeze act and twins have good commercial value or whatever, while Nick was simply looking forward to working with guys his own age. As it stands, Nick doesn’t hang out with the twins that all that often because they’re best friends already and he and Joe are usually too busy doing their own thing, but it’s still cool to have them around.
Before long, everyone is squished around the tiny fold-out table next to the kitchenette, Dylan and Cole eating off each other’s plates while their mother chides them for it, but she’s smiling at the same time so nobody takes her all that seriously. There are extra chocolate chips in Joe’s pancakes because David’s a really, really nice guy, but Joe proceeds to drench his whole plate in chocolate syrup anyway. Sometimes Nick thinks Joe’s aiming to ingest all the sugar he can’t consume, just so it doesn’t go to waste or whatever. That would be such a Joe thing to do.
Joe catches Nick’s eye over the mountain of chocolatey goo and smiles tentatively. Nick grins back because Joe’s smile is contagious, and David makes toast so awesomely that he’s not even bummed about his lack of pancakes. For the first time in forever, it’s like he’s part of a real family.
He feels kind of bad thinking that, what with Mom and Dad and Kevin and Frankie just next door, but the bus was never anything more than an extension of Dad’s office as far as Nick’s concerned. Dad is all about the circus all the time, so Nick never has the chance to get away from it and switch off. They live it, breathe it, perform in it and, man, a part of Nick really wishes that he and Joe and David had never driven back to the lot last night.
--
When Paul Kevin Sr. knocks on the bus door and tells them to report to the Big Top in half an hour for rehearsal, they all kind of roll their eyes good-naturedly before Joe ambles to the bathroom and the Sprouses go off to get dressed (“Sprice,” Joe calls them collectively, because it rolls off the tongue better and makes Nick laugh). David ambles to the sink and starts affably doing the dishes, and Nick helps because David cooked so he shouldn’t have to do the washing up as well, right?
David puts himself in charge of washing while Nick gets drying duty, only the kitchenette isn’t big enough for two people to stand side-by-side so they end up bumping elbows a lot. Nick quits apologizing after the fifth time because David keeps shaking his head and saying, “It’s fine, Nick, for real” and flicking soap suds at him.
Nick isn’t sure where Joe’s gone off to but he thinks he can hear laughter coming from the bunk area so chances are his brother’s probably entertaining one or both of the twins. He touches David’s arm - deliberately this time - and says in a low voice, “Hey, thanks for last night.”
The cool thing about David is that he likes to have fun but definitely also knows when to be serious. He gets this wide-eyed, sincere look on his face and replies earnestly, “Anytime, bro.”
Nick grins and punches him affectionately in the bicep. David could totally school him in the muscle department because gymnasts are lean while magicians are… well, this one is totally jacked, but David just takes it. He even kind of pretends like it hurts a little, which is funny if only for how awesomely fake his reactions are.
“Nickyyyy,” comes Joe’s voice from behind them. Before Nick has a chance to react, Joe sweeps him into an arm lock. “Figured you could use some help,” Joe tells David solemnly.
David mimes wiping sweat off his brow and says, “For real, dude, you got here just in time.”
Joe lets Nick go after making him promise to tame his “violent urges,” and David drains the sink. It’s worth noting that he’s still not wearing a shirt. Nick knows from previous conversations that the David Henrie philosophy on shirt-wearing is that clothes impede freedom (freedom of what, Nick always wanted to ask) and besides, it gets up to 120 degrees in Arizona in the summer so what the fuck do you need a shirt for? (David’s words, not Nick’s.)
Joe claps David on the back. “You’d better put a shirt on, young man,” he advises in a perfect imitation of their mom’s being-stern-with-Frankie voice, and Nick cracks up. It’s just like Joe to know exactly what he’s thinking. He catches sight of the clock on the wall next to the kitchenette and makes a face because getting back to their regularly scheduled programming is the last thing he wants to do right now, in light of last night and… last night.
He bites his lip and ignores the tug of his heart in his chest. It was a kiss, a mistake, something meaningless, nothing more, and even if it wasn’t… well. It had to be.
“We should go. You know how Dad gets when we’re late.”
--
Things over on the Jonas bus are surprisingly the same. Nick supposes it’s a little bigheaded to assume everyone else would be affected by the planes of his own existence shifting so extensively over the past twelve hours, but everything is so stiflingly normal that he begins to doubt whether their Jersey adventure and its aftermath actually happened at all.
They walk in to find Frankie already dressed in the little tracksuit he wears to rehearsal, sitting at the table and sucking on a juice box. Kevin is beside him in a white undershirt and sweatpants, face shielded from view by the New York Times, and their mother bustles in from the bunk area, a mound of dirty clothing in her hands. Thank God for the Laundromat down the street, which is probably where she’s headed.
“When you boys said ‘sleepover,’ I didn’t realize that meant staying half of the following day as well,” she admonishes, but her tone is kind. She’s picked up on their waning enthusiasm for the circus lifestyle, Nick’s sure of it. He’ll catch her watching him sometimes with this look on her face like she knows something’s amiss but isn’t quite sure how to broach the subject.
“David made me chocolate chip pancakes,” Joe says seriously. “You’re lucky I didn’t stay forever.”
She laughs. “Well, before you move over there, Joseph, I’d like to point out that I don’t see David doing your laundry. Nicholas, did you eat?”
“Toast,” Joe supplies before Nick has a chance to open his mouth and she nods, satisfied, stepping aside to let them pass.
Joe goes first, tugging off his shirt as they proceed to the bunk area. It’s not like Nick hasn’t seen his brother shirtless before (not only are they brothers, they live on a freaking bus), but he can feel the tips of his ears growing hot anyway. He takes off his own shirt and opens the drawer underneath his bunk, pulling out his practice leotard and willing the feeling to go away. He purposely doesn’t look at his brother as he strips naked.
“So it was cool staying at David’s,” Joe remarks from beside him, and Nick hears the soft whump that means his brother’s jeans have hit the floor.
“We should do it more often,” Nick says as casually as he can manage, pulling the stretchy Lycra up over his chest and hoping Joe doesn’t think it means what happened after David went to bed. “It was nice to get away from this dumb bus for once.”
Joe laughs in agreement and Nick looks up to grin at him. Joe’s standing by his bunk completely naked, holding his leotard in one hand, and Nick flushes red and averts his eyes.
Joe doesn’t say anything - Nick’s not even sure his brother knows he looked - but he feels guilty anyway. On impulse he grabs the hoody he got from his old gymnastics school that’s been languishing in the bottom of his drawer for ages now because of the heat, but in light of whatever’s going on with Joe he thinks it best to show as little skin as possible. He’s not sure how this is going to work when they get to the actual rehearsing part - he’ll have to wrap himself around his brother in a series of contorted positions, their skin separated by nothing more than some thin, satiny fabric - but he supposes he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.
“Cool?” Joe asks (fully dressed now, thank God).
Nick forces a smile. “Absolutely.”
---<---<---@
Part Two.