'Brotherly Love' [Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas]
Title: 'Brotherly Love'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, sexual themes, underage
Pairing: Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: It all started when Nick crawled into Joe's bed one night. There was a thunderstorm or something, and he must've been scared but was too proud to admit it.
Disclaimer: Oh, no, I don’t own the JoBros... yo.
Author's Notes: I blame a_musical_heart for directing me to 11-YEAR-OLD NICK FIC kfdlajfd. HER FAULT.
---<---<---@
They'd been doing this since they were practically babies. Joe often thinks of the first time, back when he was, what, nine, so Nick would have been about six. There was a thunderstorm or something, and Nick had crawled into Joe's bed - he must've been scared but was too proud to admit it, even back then, so instead he'd simply clambered in nonchalantly and chattered about his Hot Wheels tracks and G. I. Joes for ages, his older brother watching blearily but listening to every word. Finally Nick ran out of steam, and then it was Joe's turn to tell him about the TV shows their parents had decreed that he was too young to watch: which were unmissable, which to take or leave, and which to avoid at all costs. Halfway through his synopsis of "Tales from the Cryptkeeper," Nick let out a tiny little snore and Joe rolled his eyes, half annoyed that Nick had fallen asleep but ultimately relieved that he'd been able to relax in the middle of the storm. He mussed Nick's hair and smiled to himself before curling up next to his little brother and following him off to dreamland.
The next night, Nick slipped in beside him. Joe didn't protest.
--
It's when Joe hits puberty that their now long-standing arrangement begins to get awkward. Nick is still too young to understand or even really notice, but it's becoming increasingly difficult for Joe to grit his teeth and lie there with a burgeoning erection as his brother burbles on about "Scooby Doo" and String Cheese and whatever else his day has consisted of. Sometimes, on the nights when Nick falls asleep before him, he'll turn his back on his brother and jerk off furiously, trying not to make the mattress move enough to wake Nick up. For the most part, this works. Once, it doesn't.
"Joe?" Nick asks, and Joe freezes completely, trying desperately to regulate his breathing and slow his pounding heartbeat as he turns to face his brother, who he thought was asleep.
"What? It's late."
"You're up," Nick points out. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing, I... it's something older kids do sometimes," he stammers. "To feel good."
Nick props his head up on his hand, regards Joe with interest. "Can I try? I like doing big kid stuff."
"It's... not that kind of big kid stuff," Joe says faintly, with the sinking feeling that he's said the wrong thing. "Your body has to be ready to do it, and yours isn't yet. You're too young."
"Like when we go to Six Flags and I can't ride the rollercoasters 'cause I'm not tall enough?"
Joe has to chuckle at his little brother's analogy. "Yeah, Nicky, something like that."
Nick huffs out a sigh of disappointment, but then his eyes brighten and he asks hopefully, "Can you show me, though? Just so I know how to do it when it's time."
"I... no, Nicky, it's private."
"Then why were you doing it right next to me?" There's no trace of impudence in Nick's question, just curiosity and a child's logic, and Joe groans.
"I probably shouldn't have been, but you sleep in my bed, like, every night, so."
"Do you have to do it at night?" Nick queries, eyes bright with interest.
"Hm..." Joe thinks about it for a minute, because it's not like he's an expert or anything and he's still figuring out a lot of this himself. "No, I suppose you can do it anytime, but it's better at night because nobody will interrupt you."
"Oh," Nick says again, screwing up his face as he thinks about this. "Do you have to do it on your own?" and goodness, this is awkward.
"Um. Well, when you’re older and stuff, and you’re married, you and your wife will do it together. Kind of. It’s different when it’s two people.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
Nick snuggles against him and his breath hitches in his throat because, hi, still hard here, but of course Nick doesn’t notice.
“Please tell me how to do it, Joe,” he murmurs into the faded cotton of Joe’s pajama top, and Joe really wants to start moving his hips to get some relief but he can’t, he can’t, it’s his brother.
“Ugh,” he grunts as Nick repositions himself, trying to find a comfortable angle and brushing up against all the wrong places. “I can’t, Nicky. It’s bad.”
“Why is it bad?”
“Because God will be mad at us.”
Nick looks at him, wide-eyed. “He’ll be mad just if you talk about it?”
Joe ponders this for a minute. “Uh. I’m not sure.”
“Can you tell me, then? Can you?”
Nick’s sort of right - it’s not like they’re doing anything, he’s just letting his brother into a secret that he’d find out on his own in a couple of years anyway, right?
“O-okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it with anybody. You’re not meant to know until you’re my age.”
“I promise,” Nick responds eagerly.
Joe takes a deep breath. “You know your, um…” and he really doesn’t want to say penis but the only other word Nick knows to describe that area is wiener, and he’s so not going there. “Dick,” he says finally, and Nick squints at him.
“You mean wiener?”
His hard-on is deflating as they speak, but he presses on regardless. “Yeah, your - yeah. Okay. When you’re my age, you… you can touch it and that makes you feel good.”
“Just touching it?”
“Well, no, you have to… stroke it, kind of. And it, like. Reacts.”
“Can I see?”
“No, Nick. What did I tell you about God?”
“But we’re not doing it together, you’re just showing me. I need to know this stuff, Joe.” He sounds very serious, and Joe can’t help but smile. “Remember when we were younger and we used to take baths together? We saw each other’s then, all the time.”
Joe does remember. Nick’s making this sound so very innocent, and he knows it’s not but is still having trouble remembering why he thought it was so bad to share this. They’re brothers. They’ve seen every inch of each other. Besides, the bedroom is mostly dark save for an element of illumination from the streetlight near his window, so it’s not like Nick will be able to see much anyway, and if he doesn’t satisfy the kid’s curiosity then he’ll be driven crazy for days until he snaps, he knows he will.
“Okay, just. Shh, yeah? Just watch.”
Nick nods, watches intently through the gloom as Joe pulls down his pajama pants, takes himself in hand and strokes firmly. He’s still half-hard from earlier, and it doesn’t take long before he rolls onto his back, moving his hips in time with the rhythm he’s established. Soon he’s closed his eyes and almost forgotten Nick’s there altogether, so it comes as quite a surprise when a small hand comes to rest on top of his own, echoing his motions. His eyes snap open, fast as bullets.
“Nick, stop that,” he gasps. He really wants to pull his hand away but his body is rebelling - he’s so close now, he doesn’t want to have to stop and then put in all the effort to bring himself back to this point, not now, he’s almost there and it’s going to be so intense, he can feel it, if he can only -
“Does it feel good?” Nick whispers - a valid inquiry, but probably the worst-timed question Joe has ever had to answer in his life.
“It. Yeah,” Joe gasps, hating himself, hating Nick a little bit too but still somehow imploring, “Don’t stop, keep going,” and listening for Nick’s whispered Okay. “You can touch the… the head, if you want to. The tip.”
Nick reaches out cautiously, prods carefully before taking Joe in his hand, thumbing over the slit, and Joe feels like he’s about to die because how, how is his brother (his little brother) so unconsciously skilled at this? He grabs onto the headboard of the bed with his other hand, using it as leverage for his motions. He doesn’t last much longer after that, coming with a groan that’s equal parts delicious ecstasy and repentant sorrow.
“Nick, Nick… God.”
Nick wipes his hand on the sheets and waits patiently for Joe to collect himself before draping over his brother in a very filial kind of way, looking up at him with shining, curious eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern tinging his voice like there’s a real possibility Joe might not be. “That was a good thing, right? That white stuff - that was supposed to happen?”
Joe reaches down to tousle his little brother’s curls, exhaling as he does so. “Yeah. Yeah, Nicky, it was a really good thing.”
“You’re all sleepy now,” Nick notes with interest, and Joe laughs, drowsy and boneless.
“That’s what happens when you do this. You feel good and then you get sleepy.”
“Well, I’m not sleepy.”
Nick delivers this utterance with typical big-kid bravado just like he does every night - usually not five minutes before he passes out - and somehow that’s reassuring to Joe, like they didn’t just do this, like he hasn’t ruined everything. He knows arguing with Nick about going to sleep is pointless so he doesn’t even try anymore, just rolls over and hugs Nick to his chest, whispering “’Night, Nick J,” and closing his eyes.
--
They don’t talk about that night for a long time and Joe has almost put it behind him, save for when the memory flashes into his head sometimes, inexplicably - usually right before he’s going to come, and he pushes it out because it is not welcome at that particular moment - so it’s truly a shock when Nick comes to him a couple of years later and says, “Hey, you know that thing you do with your dick?” and thank God he doesn’t say wiener anymore, but still.
“Yeah…”
“Can you show me how to do it again?”
“Do it yourself,” he retorts after he’s got over the surprise a bit. “You’re old enough now.” (It’s kind of crazy to him that his little brother is going through puberty. In the back of his mind he knew to expect this, but now that it’s here he honestly doesn’t know what to do.)
“I don’t want to. Well, I tried, but it feels weird.”
“It’s going to be like that the first few times, Nick. That’s just how it is. Push through it. It’ll feel good in the end.”
Nick shakes his head stubbornly. “Show me.”
“That would be five hundred and one kinds of wrong, Nicholas Jerry,” and that’s the end of that because Joe stalks away to challenge Kevin on Playstation, and Nick’s not invited.
--
Nick doesn’t sneak into Joe’s bed as much anymore, but his nighttime visits are still frequent enough (one to two times a week) for Joe to be used to them.
“So, please,” the other boy implores with a pout, transitioning seamlessly from a lazy, half-asleep conversation about that girl in Joe’s French class to - well, to this.
Joe’s resting his head on his half of the pillow, lying on his side to look at Nick while they talk. “Don’t make that face, okay?”
Nick cuddles closer and breathes “Why, because you can’t resist it?” against his neck and he hates it, hates that his brother has become such a tease but can’t help shivering anyway.
He pointedly rolls over so his back is to Nick, mutters a “Yeah, exactly” under his breath.
“Don’t be like that,” Nick says sadly. “Please, Joe. Remind me how, that’s all. Just once. I’ll remember after that.”
“No, Nick,” Joe tells the wall. “It’s, like, four different sins at once.”
“But we love each other.”
Joe lets out an exasperated sigh. “There are different kinds of love, you know. Love between couples and love between brothers isn’t the same thing at all.”
“I’m not stupid,” Nick points out quietly. “I just don’t see how it’s wrong if we love each other.”
“I don’t know, ask the Bible.”
“I’ve been praying about it,” Nick tells him with a soft seriousness in his voice. “I’ve been asking and asking, but I can’t tell whether what I’m getting back is what God actually wants or just what I want to hear.”
And boy, Joe knows how that is - wanting something so badly, praying about it over and over but never getting a definitive answer, never being sure he’s interpreting the signs and feelings correctly, eventually walking away more confused than when he began, but…
“Leviticus, Nicky. It says it all in there, I. I read it, I looked.”
Nick gets this look on his face like he’s about to ask why Joe took the time to seek out those particular verses but he doesn’t, he doesn’t and Joe is so, so relieved because he couldn’t lie to Nick if he tried.
“I did too,” is what Nick says instead, “and it didn’t say anything about us, Joe. It didn’t.”
Joe knows that as well, but tried to overlook it at the time because Do not lie with your mother, do not lie with your sister, do not lie with your niece or nephew or aunt or uncle or even in-laws because that’s a HUGE. FREAKING. SIN (paraphrased loosely) sort of drives the point home even if it doesn’t say “brother” explicitly - and besides, the homosexuality thing is an entirely separate issue but one just as pressing.
He doesn’t reply but sighs instead, shoulders rising and falling. When Nick’s hand comes to rest on his back he tries not to relax into the touch.
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Nick says, somehow managing to sound both put out and goofy at the same time, and it’s enough for Joe to turn around, forehead so close to Nick’s that the two of them are almost touching.
“I want to show you, okay? I just… don’t want to sin,” and Joe loves God, he does. Their whole family does ‘cause God’s awesome, and Joe doesn’t want to do anything wrong because he’s so imperfect already (all of God’s children are) and deliberately, willfully disobeying His word would be like slapping Him in the face.
“I thought you’d want to help me,” Nick says in the kind of voice he uses when he’s trying not to sound mad and Joe breathes out, just breathes, then leans forward and presses his mouth to Nick’s for two precious seconds - no more, no less. He murmurs “Sorry” against his brother’s lips before rolling over and squeezing his eyes tensely shut. He won’t begin to relax until the initially erratic breathing from the other side of the bed becomes deep and even. He won’t sleep for a long time after that.
--
Joe supposes Nick figures everything out somehow because he doesn’t bring it up again. It’s been a long time since that night he sneaked into Joe’s bed (too long) and he hasn’t come back since. They’ll still write songs together, them and Kevin, dancing crazy victory laps around each other after Mario Kart and board games, but the closeness is missing now. They talk a lot but don’t actually say anything, haven’t said anything in ages - in ages.
--
The day Nick is allowed to leave the hospital, Joe is so relieved he wants to cry. Seeing his younger brother lying in the stiff-sheeted bed, hooked up to all manner of monitoring devices, face tired and strained but still smiling because that was just Nick - it touched something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time and had fought against for even longer. When Nick comes home with a case of syringes and this insulin stuff in tiny bottles, Joe’s relieved, yes, but also so sad. He wonders how their lives will change. He knows Nick’s never let anything slow him down but can’t shake the dreaded feeling that maybe this is the exception.
It’s a surprise but not really when Nick crawls into his bunk that night, thin, so thin, and still a little shaky, and Joe doesn’t even bother with dialogue, just sweeps the other boy gently into his arms. Nick hugs back fiercely, stronger than he looks, and the two brothers stay locked in their embrace for a while under the blessed cover of darkness.
Finally, Joe pulls back. It’s pretty dark on the bus but they have these little safety lights built into the floor that guide their way when they pad to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and some of the glow passes through his privacy curtain. He can just make out the silhouette of Nick’s head next to him, the hair (all curls, unruly) at the top, and says quietly, “I’m sorry.”
They haven’t talked about this in years but somehow Nick knows exactly what he means, and Joe knows he knows by the tone he uses when he responds, “It’s okay.”
Joe loves his brother so much in that moment. He just wants to wrap his arms around Nick and squeeze and squeeze, bury his head in his younger brother’s shoulder and whisper I love you, I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe, into that hair but he knows Nick’s sore from all the blood the nurses took, all the times the doctors poked at him.
“I’m not going to break, you know,” Nick says like he’s heard his brother’s thoughts, and Joe lets out a quiet chuckle. It hits him like some kind of vision, like the light Saul encountered on the way to Damascus (and yeah, it’s quite lofty of him to make that comparison but he’s sort of too distracted to call himself on it) - if God is love and love is this then love can’t be wrong, not really, and it feels as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“Come here, Nicky. Turn around, I…” and Nick complies, but not before a shadow of indecision crosses his partially obscured face.
Joe pulls his brother closer to him, leaves his hand on the other boy’s waist and strokes the hip bone gently with his thumb as he moves his head forward and presses a succession of short, sharp but loving kisses to the back of Nick’s neck. Nick murmurs something that sounds like “Are you sure about this?” but Joe ignores him, moves his hand downwards and smoothly slips it underneath the fabric of Nick’s boxers. He’s confronted by a warm, wet heat that’s extremely familiar. Joe can’t count the number of times he’s done this to himself but this time there’s someone’s body between him and where his hand is, a body that’s smaller, slighter, rangier than his own, pushing back slowly but insistently against his hips. Joe loses himself in the rhythm.
Presently, Nick lets out a small yelp and wow, he’s fully hard by now even as he gasps out “You don’t have to” against the pillow, and Joe nips at his ear.
“It can’t be wrong… you're not... I love you too much,” he mumbles disconnectedly, peppering Nick’s neck, Nick’s cheek with swift, methodical kisses guided by passion. “I hate that you’ve been so sick, Nicky, you don’t deserve this. Not you. I want to make you... I’m sorry I -”
And Nick turns, sensitive places from the bloodwork be damned, to capture his big brother’s lips in a kiss. At first their tongues duel for dominance but gradually Nick gives in, willing to follow and submit just as he’d been the night he’d talked about “Scooby Doo” and Six Flags and begged Joe to show him what big kids do to feel good.
Joe works off Nick’s boxers and then his own, tracing a delicate line along the smooth, taut skin on his brother’s side. His kisses move downwards, distracted from their progress by Nick’s left nipple just long enough to make the younger boy squeak before finally reaching the forest of fine hairs. He presses his face against it and inhales.
Nick strokes his hair, breathing labored by now, and Joe takes a deep breath of his own before taking his brother’s tip into his mouth, lapping cautiously at the pre-come that’s gathered there. It tastes sort of bitter, and he sucks with varying degrees of force until he figures out what Nick likes.
Eventually he has to bob off and start kissing Nick again just to shut him up. Kevin is less than ten feet away and it’s not like Joe doesn’t hear his older brother jacking off sometimes too but all that needs to happen is an ill-placed “Oh, Joe” and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself.
Nick pulls away for a second and takes himself in hand, gasping, “Look, Joe, I can do it now,” eyes sparkling with mischief, and only Nick could make a joke at a time like this. Joe laughs very softly, slips his tongue into Nick’s mouth again and kisses like his life depends on it. His own hardness is pressing up against Nick’s stomach and Nick grabs him, tugs. He lets out a startled, pleasured moan, reaches down to grasp Nick once more and this… this is nice. Joe could get used to this. They come like that, lips fused together as they spurt onto their stomachs, collapsing against each other when they’re spent.
“Don’t ever get sick, ever again,” Joe whispers as soon as he can talk, and Nick leans his sweaty forehead against his brother’s cheek. Joe can feel his accelerated heart rate thrumming through his skin. “Just. Promise me, okay, you can’t. I want you to feel this good always.”
“I’ll try my best,” Nick replies, still breathless. It’s an honest answer and Joe hugs him tightly. “I… I might need your help to feel this way again, though.”
“Okay,” Joe agrees at once, pressing his lips to the only part of Nick’s face he can reach, which happens to be the left cheekbone. “I love you, Nicky.”
Joe can't see Nick but he can still feel his little brother’s smile, the heat of breath warming his skin as Nick replies, “I love you too.”
---<---<---@
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest, sexual themes, underage
Pairing: Joe Jonas/Nick Jonas
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: It all started when Nick crawled into Joe's bed one night. There was a thunderstorm or something, and he must've been scared but was too proud to admit it.
Disclaimer: Oh, no, I don’t own the JoBros... yo.
Author's Notes: I blame a_musical_heart for directing me to 11-YEAR-OLD NICK FIC kfdlajfd. HER FAULT.
---<---<---@
They'd been doing this since they were practically babies. Joe often thinks of the first time, back when he was, what, nine, so Nick would have been about six. There was a thunderstorm or something, and Nick had crawled into Joe's bed - he must've been scared but was too proud to admit it, even back then, so instead he'd simply clambered in nonchalantly and chattered about his Hot Wheels tracks and G. I. Joes for ages, his older brother watching blearily but listening to every word. Finally Nick ran out of steam, and then it was Joe's turn to tell him about the TV shows their parents had decreed that he was too young to watch: which were unmissable, which to take or leave, and which to avoid at all costs. Halfway through his synopsis of "Tales from the Cryptkeeper," Nick let out a tiny little snore and Joe rolled his eyes, half annoyed that Nick had fallen asleep but ultimately relieved that he'd been able to relax in the middle of the storm. He mussed Nick's hair and smiled to himself before curling up next to his little brother and following him off to dreamland.
The next night, Nick slipped in beside him. Joe didn't protest.
--
It's when Joe hits puberty that their now long-standing arrangement begins to get awkward. Nick is still too young to understand or even really notice, but it's becoming increasingly difficult for Joe to grit his teeth and lie there with a burgeoning erection as his brother burbles on about "Scooby Doo" and String Cheese and whatever else his day has consisted of. Sometimes, on the nights when Nick falls asleep before him, he'll turn his back on his brother and jerk off furiously, trying not to make the mattress move enough to wake Nick up. For the most part, this works. Once, it doesn't.
"Joe?" Nick asks, and Joe freezes completely, trying desperately to regulate his breathing and slow his pounding heartbeat as he turns to face his brother, who he thought was asleep.
"What? It's late."
"You're up," Nick points out. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing, I... it's something older kids do sometimes," he stammers. "To feel good."
Nick props his head up on his hand, regards Joe with interest. "Can I try? I like doing big kid stuff."
"It's... not that kind of big kid stuff," Joe says faintly, with the sinking feeling that he's said the wrong thing. "Your body has to be ready to do it, and yours isn't yet. You're too young."
"Like when we go to Six Flags and I can't ride the rollercoasters 'cause I'm not tall enough?"
Joe has to chuckle at his little brother's analogy. "Yeah, Nicky, something like that."
Nick huffs out a sigh of disappointment, but then his eyes brighten and he asks hopefully, "Can you show me, though? Just so I know how to do it when it's time."
"I... no, Nicky, it's private."
"Then why were you doing it right next to me?" There's no trace of impudence in Nick's question, just curiosity and a child's logic, and Joe groans.
"I probably shouldn't have been, but you sleep in my bed, like, every night, so."
"Do you have to do it at night?" Nick queries, eyes bright with interest.
"Hm..." Joe thinks about it for a minute, because it's not like he's an expert or anything and he's still figuring out a lot of this himself. "No, I suppose you can do it anytime, but it's better at night because nobody will interrupt you."
"Oh," Nick says again, screwing up his face as he thinks about this. "Do you have to do it on your own?" and goodness, this is awkward.
"Um. Well, when you’re older and stuff, and you’re married, you and your wife will do it together. Kind of. It’s different when it’s two people.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
Nick snuggles against him and his breath hitches in his throat because, hi, still hard here, but of course Nick doesn’t notice.
“Please tell me how to do it, Joe,” he murmurs into the faded cotton of Joe’s pajama top, and Joe really wants to start moving his hips to get some relief but he can’t, he can’t, it’s his brother.
“Ugh,” he grunts as Nick repositions himself, trying to find a comfortable angle and brushing up against all the wrong places. “I can’t, Nicky. It’s bad.”
“Why is it bad?”
“Because God will be mad at us.”
Nick looks at him, wide-eyed. “He’ll be mad just if you talk about it?”
Joe ponders this for a minute. “Uh. I’m not sure.”
“Can you tell me, then? Can you?”
Nick’s sort of right - it’s not like they’re doing anything, he’s just letting his brother into a secret that he’d find out on his own in a couple of years anyway, right?
“O-okay, but you have to promise not to talk about it with anybody. You’re not meant to know until you’re my age.”
“I promise,” Nick responds eagerly.
Joe takes a deep breath. “You know your, um…” and he really doesn’t want to say penis but the only other word Nick knows to describe that area is wiener, and he’s so not going there. “Dick,” he says finally, and Nick squints at him.
“You mean wiener?”
His hard-on is deflating as they speak, but he presses on regardless. “Yeah, your - yeah. Okay. When you’re my age, you… you can touch it and that makes you feel good.”
“Just touching it?”
“Well, no, you have to… stroke it, kind of. And it, like. Reacts.”
“Can I see?”
“No, Nick. What did I tell you about God?”
“But we’re not doing it together, you’re just showing me. I need to know this stuff, Joe.” He sounds very serious, and Joe can’t help but smile. “Remember when we were younger and we used to take baths together? We saw each other’s then, all the time.”
Joe does remember. Nick’s making this sound so very innocent, and he knows it’s not but is still having trouble remembering why he thought it was so bad to share this. They’re brothers. They’ve seen every inch of each other. Besides, the bedroom is mostly dark save for an element of illumination from the streetlight near his window, so it’s not like Nick will be able to see much anyway, and if he doesn’t satisfy the kid’s curiosity then he’ll be driven crazy for days until he snaps, he knows he will.
“Okay, just. Shh, yeah? Just watch.”
Nick nods, watches intently through the gloom as Joe pulls down his pajama pants, takes himself in hand and strokes firmly. He’s still half-hard from earlier, and it doesn’t take long before he rolls onto his back, moving his hips in time with the rhythm he’s established. Soon he’s closed his eyes and almost forgotten Nick’s there altogether, so it comes as quite a surprise when a small hand comes to rest on top of his own, echoing his motions. His eyes snap open, fast as bullets.
“Nick, stop that,” he gasps. He really wants to pull his hand away but his body is rebelling - he’s so close now, he doesn’t want to have to stop and then put in all the effort to bring himself back to this point, not now, he’s almost there and it’s going to be so intense, he can feel it, if he can only -
“Does it feel good?” Nick whispers - a valid inquiry, but probably the worst-timed question Joe has ever had to answer in his life.
“It. Yeah,” Joe gasps, hating himself, hating Nick a little bit too but still somehow imploring, “Don’t stop, keep going,” and listening for Nick’s whispered Okay. “You can touch the… the head, if you want to. The tip.”
Nick reaches out cautiously, prods carefully before taking Joe in his hand, thumbing over the slit, and Joe feels like he’s about to die because how, how is his brother (his little brother) so unconsciously skilled at this? He grabs onto the headboard of the bed with his other hand, using it as leverage for his motions. He doesn’t last much longer after that, coming with a groan that’s equal parts delicious ecstasy and repentant sorrow.
“Nick, Nick… God.”
Nick wipes his hand on the sheets and waits patiently for Joe to collect himself before draping over his brother in a very filial kind of way, looking up at him with shining, curious eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern tinging his voice like there’s a real possibility Joe might not be. “That was a good thing, right? That white stuff - that was supposed to happen?”
Joe reaches down to tousle his little brother’s curls, exhaling as he does so. “Yeah. Yeah, Nicky, it was a really good thing.”
“You’re all sleepy now,” Nick notes with interest, and Joe laughs, drowsy and boneless.
“That’s what happens when you do this. You feel good and then you get sleepy.”
“Well, I’m not sleepy.”
Nick delivers this utterance with typical big-kid bravado just like he does every night - usually not five minutes before he passes out - and somehow that’s reassuring to Joe, like they didn’t just do this, like he hasn’t ruined everything. He knows arguing with Nick about going to sleep is pointless so he doesn’t even try anymore, just rolls over and hugs Nick to his chest, whispering “’Night, Nick J,” and closing his eyes.
--
They don’t talk about that night for a long time and Joe has almost put it behind him, save for when the memory flashes into his head sometimes, inexplicably - usually right before he’s going to come, and he pushes it out because it is not welcome at that particular moment - so it’s truly a shock when Nick comes to him a couple of years later and says, “Hey, you know that thing you do with your dick?” and thank God he doesn’t say wiener anymore, but still.
“Yeah…”
“Can you show me how to do it again?”
“Do it yourself,” he retorts after he’s got over the surprise a bit. “You’re old enough now.” (It’s kind of crazy to him that his little brother is going through puberty. In the back of his mind he knew to expect this, but now that it’s here he honestly doesn’t know what to do.)
“I don’t want to. Well, I tried, but it feels weird.”
“It’s going to be like that the first few times, Nick. That’s just how it is. Push through it. It’ll feel good in the end.”
Nick shakes his head stubbornly. “Show me.”
“That would be five hundred and one kinds of wrong, Nicholas Jerry,” and that’s the end of that because Joe stalks away to challenge Kevin on Playstation, and Nick’s not invited.
--
Nick doesn’t sneak into Joe’s bed as much anymore, but his nighttime visits are still frequent enough (one to two times a week) for Joe to be used to them.
“So, please,” the other boy implores with a pout, transitioning seamlessly from a lazy, half-asleep conversation about that girl in Joe’s French class to - well, to this.
Joe’s resting his head on his half of the pillow, lying on his side to look at Nick while they talk. “Don’t make that face, okay?”
Nick cuddles closer and breathes “Why, because you can’t resist it?” against his neck and he hates it, hates that his brother has become such a tease but can’t help shivering anyway.
He pointedly rolls over so his back is to Nick, mutters a “Yeah, exactly” under his breath.
“Don’t be like that,” Nick says sadly. “Please, Joe. Remind me how, that’s all. Just once. I’ll remember after that.”
“No, Nick,” Joe tells the wall. “It’s, like, four different sins at once.”
“But we love each other.”
Joe lets out an exasperated sigh. “There are different kinds of love, you know. Love between couples and love between brothers isn’t the same thing at all.”
“I’m not stupid,” Nick points out quietly. “I just don’t see how it’s wrong if we love each other.”
“I don’t know, ask the Bible.”
“I’ve been praying about it,” Nick tells him with a soft seriousness in his voice. “I’ve been asking and asking, but I can’t tell whether what I’m getting back is what God actually wants or just what I want to hear.”
And boy, Joe knows how that is - wanting something so badly, praying about it over and over but never getting a definitive answer, never being sure he’s interpreting the signs and feelings correctly, eventually walking away more confused than when he began, but…
“Leviticus, Nicky. It says it all in there, I. I read it, I looked.”
Nick gets this look on his face like he’s about to ask why Joe took the time to seek out those particular verses but he doesn’t, he doesn’t and Joe is so, so relieved because he couldn’t lie to Nick if he tried.
“I did too,” is what Nick says instead, “and it didn’t say anything about us, Joe. It didn’t.”
Joe knows that as well, but tried to overlook it at the time because Do not lie with your mother, do not lie with your sister, do not lie with your niece or nephew or aunt or uncle or even in-laws because that’s a HUGE. FREAKING. SIN (paraphrased loosely) sort of drives the point home even if it doesn’t say “brother” explicitly - and besides, the homosexuality thing is an entirely separate issue but one just as pressing.
He doesn’t reply but sighs instead, shoulders rising and falling. When Nick’s hand comes to rest on his back he tries not to relax into the touch.
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” Nick says, somehow managing to sound both put out and goofy at the same time, and it’s enough for Joe to turn around, forehead so close to Nick’s that the two of them are almost touching.
“I want to show you, okay? I just… don’t want to sin,” and Joe loves God, he does. Their whole family does ‘cause God’s awesome, and Joe doesn’t want to do anything wrong because he’s so imperfect already (all of God’s children are) and deliberately, willfully disobeying His word would be like slapping Him in the face.
“I thought you’d want to help me,” Nick says in the kind of voice he uses when he’s trying not to sound mad and Joe breathes out, just breathes, then leans forward and presses his mouth to Nick’s for two precious seconds - no more, no less. He murmurs “Sorry” against his brother’s lips before rolling over and squeezing his eyes tensely shut. He won’t begin to relax until the initially erratic breathing from the other side of the bed becomes deep and even. He won’t sleep for a long time after that.
--
Joe supposes Nick figures everything out somehow because he doesn’t bring it up again. It’s been a long time since that night he sneaked into Joe’s bed (too long) and he hasn’t come back since. They’ll still write songs together, them and Kevin, dancing crazy victory laps around each other after Mario Kart and board games, but the closeness is missing now. They talk a lot but don’t actually say anything, haven’t said anything in ages - in ages.
--
The day Nick is allowed to leave the hospital, Joe is so relieved he wants to cry. Seeing his younger brother lying in the stiff-sheeted bed, hooked up to all manner of monitoring devices, face tired and strained but still smiling because that was just Nick - it touched something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time and had fought against for even longer. When Nick comes home with a case of syringes and this insulin stuff in tiny bottles, Joe’s relieved, yes, but also so sad. He wonders how their lives will change. He knows Nick’s never let anything slow him down but can’t shake the dreaded feeling that maybe this is the exception.
It’s a surprise but not really when Nick crawls into his bunk that night, thin, so thin, and still a little shaky, and Joe doesn’t even bother with dialogue, just sweeps the other boy gently into his arms. Nick hugs back fiercely, stronger than he looks, and the two brothers stay locked in their embrace for a while under the blessed cover of darkness.
Finally, Joe pulls back. It’s pretty dark on the bus but they have these little safety lights built into the floor that guide their way when they pad to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and some of the glow passes through his privacy curtain. He can just make out the silhouette of Nick’s head next to him, the hair (all curls, unruly) at the top, and says quietly, “I’m sorry.”
They haven’t talked about this in years but somehow Nick knows exactly what he means, and Joe knows he knows by the tone he uses when he responds, “It’s okay.”
Joe loves his brother so much in that moment. He just wants to wrap his arms around Nick and squeeze and squeeze, bury his head in his younger brother’s shoulder and whisper I love you, I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe, into that hair but he knows Nick’s sore from all the blood the nurses took, all the times the doctors poked at him.
“I’m not going to break, you know,” Nick says like he’s heard his brother’s thoughts, and Joe lets out a quiet chuckle. It hits him like some kind of vision, like the light Saul encountered on the way to Damascus (and yeah, it’s quite lofty of him to make that comparison but he’s sort of too distracted to call himself on it) - if God is love and love is this then love can’t be wrong, not really, and it feels as if a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“Come here, Nicky. Turn around, I…” and Nick complies, but not before a shadow of indecision crosses his partially obscured face.
Joe pulls his brother closer to him, leaves his hand on the other boy’s waist and strokes the hip bone gently with his thumb as he moves his head forward and presses a succession of short, sharp but loving kisses to the back of Nick’s neck. Nick murmurs something that sounds like “Are you sure about this?” but Joe ignores him, moves his hand downwards and smoothly slips it underneath the fabric of Nick’s boxers. He’s confronted by a warm, wet heat that’s extremely familiar. Joe can’t count the number of times he’s done this to himself but this time there’s someone’s body between him and where his hand is, a body that’s smaller, slighter, rangier than his own, pushing back slowly but insistently against his hips. Joe loses himself in the rhythm.
Presently, Nick lets out a small yelp and wow, he’s fully hard by now even as he gasps out “You don’t have to” against the pillow, and Joe nips at his ear.
“It can’t be wrong… you're not... I love you too much,” he mumbles disconnectedly, peppering Nick’s neck, Nick’s cheek with swift, methodical kisses guided by passion. “I hate that you’ve been so sick, Nicky, you don’t deserve this. Not you. I want to make you... I’m sorry I -”
And Nick turns, sensitive places from the bloodwork be damned, to capture his big brother’s lips in a kiss. At first their tongues duel for dominance but gradually Nick gives in, willing to follow and submit just as he’d been the night he’d talked about “Scooby Doo” and Six Flags and begged Joe to show him what big kids do to feel good.
Joe works off Nick’s boxers and then his own, tracing a delicate line along the smooth, taut skin on his brother’s side. His kisses move downwards, distracted from their progress by Nick’s left nipple just long enough to make the younger boy squeak before finally reaching the forest of fine hairs. He presses his face against it and inhales.
Nick strokes his hair, breathing labored by now, and Joe takes a deep breath of his own before taking his brother’s tip into his mouth, lapping cautiously at the pre-come that’s gathered there. It tastes sort of bitter, and he sucks with varying degrees of force until he figures out what Nick likes.
Eventually he has to bob off and start kissing Nick again just to shut him up. Kevin is less than ten feet away and it’s not like Joe doesn’t hear his older brother jacking off sometimes too but all that needs to happen is an ill-placed “Oh, Joe” and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself.
Nick pulls away for a second and takes himself in hand, gasping, “Look, Joe, I can do it now,” eyes sparkling with mischief, and only Nick could make a joke at a time like this. Joe laughs very softly, slips his tongue into Nick’s mouth again and kisses like his life depends on it. His own hardness is pressing up against Nick’s stomach and Nick grabs him, tugs. He lets out a startled, pleasured moan, reaches down to grasp Nick once more and this… this is nice. Joe could get used to this. They come like that, lips fused together as they spurt onto their stomachs, collapsing against each other when they’re spent.
“Don’t ever get sick, ever again,” Joe whispers as soon as he can talk, and Nick leans his sweaty forehead against his brother’s cheek. Joe can feel his accelerated heart rate thrumming through his skin. “Just. Promise me, okay, you can’t. I want you to feel this good always.”
“I’ll try my best,” Nick replies, still breathless. It’s an honest answer and Joe hugs him tightly. “I… I might need your help to feel this way again, though.”
“Okay,” Joe agrees at once, pressing his lips to the only part of Nick’s face he can reach, which happens to be the left cheekbone. “I love you, Nicky.”
Joe can't see Nick but he can still feel his little brother’s smile, the heat of breath warming his skin as Nick replies, “I love you too.”
---<---<---@