Happy Holidays, mediaville!
Author: kandkl
Recipient: mediaville
Title: Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Characters: Nick Jonas, Joe Jonas, Kevin Sr., Denise, Trace Cyrus
Pairings: Joe/Nick.
Rating: R.
Wordcount: 3,866
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Underage sexytimes?
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Title is from a Death Cab song.
A/N: Thanks to onelittlesleep for helping me with some ideas.
Summary: The media catches wind of the special closeness of Joe and Nick's relationship. After Nick punches out Trace Cyrus in Joe's defense, things begin to spiral out of control.
The Request:Things you like: First-times, humor, PORN, dub-con, jealousy.
Trace starts it. Nick’s never been one to throw blame around, but with the whole shit storm that stupid fight whipped up in the media, Nick is sticking hard to the notion that he acted in self defense. Well, brother defense.
It’s a clear night in New York City, but the air is crisp and cool and Nick and Joe both have heavy jackets on. They’re walking up Washington Avenue, heading to a small shop that Joe loves, and a lone photographer is quietly trailing them. It’s pretty nice, actually. Quiet.
They run into someone exiting a coffee shop on their right, and in a flash of tattoos and piercings, Nick realizes that it’s Trace Cyrus. Of all the people to run into on a Saturday night in New York, they managed to find the one person who simultaneously hates Joe for being friends with Demi and loathes Nick for breaking Miley’s heart.
“Hey Trace,” Joe says, tone even and civil. If there wasn’t a camera following them, Nick’s sure they would have blown past each other, but Trace seems willing to play ball.
He straightens his hooded sweatshirt with a grimace and smiles at them. He’s taller than Joe and Nick, all bony and pale, and his grin is more predatory than genial. “Hey kids,” he says, voice trailing. He looks them both up and down and Nick can feel Joe shift uncomfortably next to him. Joe hates Trace.
“Sorry we ran into you,” Joe says conversationally, with a certain finality in his voice, and he moves to step forward. He’s done with the conversation, but Trace stops him with a heavy hand on his chest.
“Woah,” Trace says, and he’s grinning so wide that Nick can see silver glint in his mouth. “Little Jonas,” he addresses Joe, and Joe lets out a controlled breath. The photographer is fifty feet behind them, silently snapping pictures. “So you’re all done with that Disney movie, right?”
“Camp Rock, yeah,” Nick says, putting his hand on Joe’s back, pushing him forward. They need to get going.
But Trace moves in front of Joe again and leers down at him. “With Demi, right?”
Joe stiffens visibly at that. He sets his jaw and looks past Trace, down the empty street. “Yep,” he clips.
Trace leans in conspiratorially and he smells like grease. He murmurs to Joe, “I bet Demi came on to you, didn’t she?” A shocked little noise bubbles out of Joe. “I bet she threw herself at you,” Trace continues. “The little slut.”
“Hey,” Joe says, and his voice is steel. His eyes lock onto Trace’s, jaw locked. Nick can hear Joe’s heart rate increase.
“Trace,” Nick says firmly, but Trace waves Nick away with his hand. He’s grinning like a hyena.
“I bet you fucked her, didn’t you?” Trace asks.
Joe mumbles something short and fast and all Nick can hear is something about “Just because you’re a dick-,” and then Trace is lunging forward and shoving Joe with both hands.
Joe stumbles back, caught off guard, and that stirs something dark, sudden in Nick. He grabs Joe’s arm and tugs him back, puts himself between them, but Trace manages to get a fist in Joe’s jacket and yanks him forward. Nick loses track of what happens for a second and then he hears a crack! Joe falls back like a felled tree, crumpling to the ground, and it’s not until Nick sees the thick blood coming from Joe’s nose that he realizes that Trace punched him.
The only way Nick knows about what happened next was from what Joe tells him later. Nick doesn’t remember. He apparently makes a loud noise and jumps at Trace, knocking him to the ground. The lone photographer runs to them and takes a hundred shots of Nick slamming the heels of his fists into Trace’s face.
Joe pulls him away a moment later, calling, “Nick,” grabbing him by the arm and pulling him off with a hard yank. Nick’s stunned, blood all over his hands, and he lets Joe pull him away, back into the coffee shop, and Nick watches as the photographer snaps shots of their retreat.
The coffee shop is warm and quiet, and there’s an audible gasp as the lone worker sees them. Joe sits Nick down in one of the wooden chairs and gets out his phone shakily, calling their dad with weak fingers. Nick can’t really focus on much, just the smell of the coffee, and his mouth feels real slippery and sharp, and it’s not until Joe touches a gentle finger to Nick’s mouth that Nick realizes his mouth is full of blood. Trace must have gotten him once.
They sit in silence as they wait for someone to come pick them up. The employee brings them clean towels and bags of ice, and Joe is gentle as he encourages Nick to spit the contents of his mouth into an empty cup and presses a sack full of ice against his own eye.
~
The fight was bad. The photographs of it were even worse. Within an hour of the incident, the pictures are circulating the web, along with dozens of outlandish stories explaining Nick’s “brutal, ruthless attack” on the helpless Trace Cyrus.
Kevin Sr. is silently furious about the whole thing, but he keeps quiet as a medic checks Joe’s nose for a break and feels around Nick’s mouth to make sure everything’s in place. Their mom hovers, worried sick, acting as a buffer to their dad’s disappointment.
The article coming out two days later is just bad luck.
The cover of the Monday edition of US Weekly is a picture of Joe and Nick, during an unnamed concert. Joe’s arm is thrown over Nick’s shoulders as Nick jams chords on his guitar, and they’re grinning at each other.
In large, block print across the picture reads: Nick and Joe Jonas-How Close is too Close?
The triple page spread inside the magazine is light on text, instead featuring dozens of pictures of Joe and Nick at various events. In each photo, Joe and Nick are pressed together, side by side or front to front. In a few, Joe is holding Nick from behind, teasing him, pushing him around.
Alone, none of the pictures would be taken as anything more than sibling roughhousing. But there’s a picture where Nick looking over his shoulder at Joe, eyes crinkled shut with laughter, and Joe is beaming down at him, so happy…
Had the fight happened alone, it would have passed eventually. The article alone, especially one from US Weekly, would have never gained ground.
But they come out within a few days of each other, and everyone seems to notice, and for the first time in their history, the Jonas Brothers are enveloped in scandal.
They have a family meeting about it-just Joe and Nick and Denise and Kevin Sr., as Kevin is still in the Bahamas with Danielle. Kevin Sr. has a fragile hold on his composure as he addresses his two sons.
“What exactly do you think we should do about this?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Joe and Nick sit side by side on a couch, knees touching, and their mother stands by the door, looking sick.
“We can’t do anything about the article,” she says quietly. Nick and Joe look to her and she nods and says, “You’ve done nothing wrong, boys.”
Joe gives her a little smile, making their father snort. “You started a fight,” he says to Joe, voice hard.
They’ve talked about the fight too many times-it takes no time for Nick to transition from defensive to agitated. Still, he hates arguing with his dad. “We didn’t start anything,” Nick says quietly.
“You punched someone, Nick. You assaulted an innocent person, in front of a camera no less.”
That snaps something in Nick and he jerks to his feet. “You’re forgetting the fact that he hit Joe first. He almost broke Joe’s nose dad, or did you forget about that?”
Kevin Sr. takes a split second to gather himself. Nick does not argue with him, ever. He begins to pace. “But why did you get involved?” Kevin Sr. asked, growing more upset. “He hit Joe. Joe is a grown man who doesn’t need his baby brother defending him.”
“Is that what this is then?” Nick asks, fingers balling into fists. “If Joe were my sister or my girlfriend, you’d be proud of me, but because he’s my brother you’re ashamed? This is some stupid gender thing?”
His dad looks up at him sharply and strides over to Nick so quickly that his mom jumps from across the room. “That is exactly my point, Nick,” he hisses, poking a hard finger into Nick’s chest. “Joe is not your sister, and he is not your girlfriend. And I’ve let you two treat each other as such for far too long.”
“Kevin,” Denise says darkly, a warning. Her arms fold over her chest and she walks to him.
“No, Denise. They need to hear this.” Nick stands in front of Joe, unable to stop himself as his dad winds up. “It is not normal for brothers to share rooms. It is not normal for brothers watch movies and cuddle on the couch together.”
“We don’t--,” Nick starts, but then Joe reaches out to touch at the small of Nick’s back and Kevin Sr. knocks his hand away.
“Don’t,” he says, breathing heavily. He straightens up, tugging at his sleeves, composing himself. “Go to your rooms. Now.”
Nick takes one look back at Joe and then takes off, striding out of the room, fuming. He’s halfway out the door when he hears his dad say, “Joe, if I catch you in his room tonight, so help me--,”.
Nick gets to his room and slams the door hard.
He gets a text that night from Joe. Nick knows what it’ll say before he opens his phone-it’s their little tradition.
“ilu nick j,” the text says.
Nick reads it a few times and then shoves his phone under his pillow without responding.
~
Nick makes a conscious effort to distance himself from Joe after that, with varying degrees of success. He and Joe don’t talk about it, which makes it weird. When he sits next to Frankie the next day at breakfast, Joe actually gives him a hurt look.
But, Nick powers through. Puts his head down and fights it-the inevitable gravity between him and his brother. Joe gets it soon enough, and the drop in his mood is severe enough to make Nick reconsider. But when he palms at the back of Joe’s neck and smiles, their dad walks past them, bumping against Nick’s shoulder hard enough to unsettle him.
Nick swipes his thumb over the back of Joe’s neck, tries to smile a little, but Joe looks at him with a face akin to mild disgust and he pulls away.
It’s hard, staying away from Joe. It was never something either of them thought about, the gravitational pull between them, so Nick has to put it in the very forefront of his mind to keep himself from drifting to Joe’s side. Not even to touch or interact, just to be there. His place in the world for the last 17 years has been at Joe’s side, and it feels foreign and ugly to force himself to stay across the room.
But there are cameras everywhere, and their dad is watching with dark eyes. So Nick fights through it-puts his head down and shoves his hands into his pockets when Joe’s around. It’s something he needs to do; for the band, for his dad. For them.
Joe doesn’t handle it well. When he first realizes Nick’s going to give avoiding him a real effort, his mood plummets and he shuffles around for a few days, head down, scuffing his feet.
That quickly evaporates into annoyance, and ultimately, anger. After two weeks, Joe’s acting like a petulant child, ignoring Nick’s presence, refusing to talk in interviews, and basically being a giant dick to anyone who has the misfortune to interact with him. He feels lousy, Nick gets that-he feels crappy about it too, but they need to get past this…thing. Nick thinks maybe if they can just stick it out for a while, long enough to get past this…need for each other, then maybe it can get easier.
It’s the third week when Joe finally snaps.
Nick gets to his hotel room late that night, kicking off his shoes as he walks through the door. The lights are already on, and Joe is standing by the window, arms folded over his chest. His hair is shaggy and messy, and he looks over at Nick when he enters.
“Joe,” Nick says warningly. They’ve spent weeks avoiding just this. Joe walks over to him calmly.
“Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” Joe asks, and his voice is soft, but there’s a hard edge to it. He stands in front of Nick and his arms fall to his sides.
“What do you mean?” Nick asks, trying to slow things down. Joe’s already in his space, and it’s making Nick’s chest ache, just seeing Joe this close up again. The dark lines of his eyebrows, the freckles sprinkled over his nose. The dark almonds of his eyes that look at Nick imploringly.
“I mean,” Joe says, and he steps into Nick, their toes touching. Nick’s heart jumps into his throat and he sucks in a breath. Being with Joe like this, so close, after so long avoiding him is like overdosing, like drowning. His fingertips begin to shake. Joe reaches out and touches at Nick’s cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Does this feel wrong?” Joe asks.
It’s just a touch, something Nick wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at a month before. But its different now, charged somehow, and the feeling of Joe’s thumb tip brushing over his jaw sends sparks off in Nick’s chest.
Joe steps into him, bumping their chests together, and Nick can feel Joe’s breath puffing hotly on his face, and he has to close his eyes. He breathes out hard through his mouth, trying to steady himself. Joe’s presence is drugging him, making him sway on his feet, and he feels so lightheaded that he has to reach out to grab at Joe’s waist to keep himself up. He keeps his eyes closed even as he feels Joe’s lips murmur against his jaw, “Does this feel wrong to you, Nick?”
Nick’s hand seizes on Joe’s hip, squeezes hard, and when he moves his head, his cheek rubs against Joe’s stubbled one, and it steals his breath away. He has no control over this situation, and it’s scaring him.
Joe pulls back then, and Nick’s face feels cold as Joe separates them. “Nick,” Joe says quietly, and Nick’s eyes open slowly. Joe’s watching him openly, naked emotions playing through those dark eyes. Sadness. “If this feels wrong to you, tell me. It doesn’t to me. It feels right. I feel better when I’m next to you.” He pauses and touches at Nick’s jaw again and Nick’s stomach flips. “If you’re avoiding me because you want to, I can respect that. But if you’re putting us through this to make anyone happy but yourself, I can’t stand for it. Because it’s killing me and it’s killing you.”
He takes a step back, prying Nick’s tight fist from his hip. “Think about it,” he says quietly.
And he leaves. Nick stands there in the middle of his hotel room, shaking and cold, unsure of himself and how he feels. He runs a cold shower and stays in until his skin is angry red and frozen.
~
Nick doesn’t sleep a whole lot for the next few days. Joe acts the same, if a bit more subdued, still staying away from Nick. But he answers a question about Camp Rock 2 in an interview, which is enough to both Nick and Kevin to swivel around and look at him. He gives Nick a sad smile and rehashes some scripted line about how they love to work with their friends and they can’t wait for everyone to see it.
Nick feels hopelessly restless. His skin feels too tight on him, itchy, and every time he comes near Joe his heart thumps so hard in his chest he thinks he’ll pass out.
He meets Joe at the door of his hotel room a few days later. Joe sees him and lets him in without a word, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Nick scrubs his fingers through his curls. “I don’t know what I want, Joe,” he admits quietly.
Joe walks up to him slowly. His hair is wet from the shower, his white undershirt dotted with water drops. There’s water on his eyelashes. “You know what you want, Nick,” Joe says, just as quiet. “You’re just afraid of it.”
Nick tries not to flinch when Joe touches at Nick’s curls. His breath puffs from his lungs, and he presses his nose to the inside of Joe’s wrist.
“I can’t stay away from you, Nick,” Joe says, and he sounds sorry, repentant. Desperate. His fingers curl underneath Nick’s chin. “Stop me,” he breathes.
Nick’s heart leaps to his throat and his eyes stutter shut as Joe leans in. Joe kisses him. Just a soft pressure of dry lips to his, but it feels like release to Nick. His mind screams that this should be weird, this should be wrong, but when Joe’s other hand holds Nick’s elbow and pulls him in, he can’t stop himself from making a little noise and opening his mouth to Joe.
Joe pulls back sharp, like he was burned. His eyes are impossibly dark, black almost, and there’s a heat there that makes Nick’s knees weak. “Do you want this?” Joe asks, his lips brushing over Nick’s as he speaks. His breath is so hot and Nick bites back another little noise. He nods, unable to form any words, so Joe leans in and kisses him again.
It’s like climbing a hill on a rollercoaster. The buildup is slow, Joe tilting Nick’s head and mouthing at him, licking into his mouth and tasting him slowly. Nick grunts a little and tries to pull closer to Joe-the distance between them feels like too much, and Joe sucks on Nick’s fat bottom lip, and heat coils in Nick’s belly, leeching out into his limbs like blood in water.
They slow and reach the top of the hill, and there’s that moment of ultimate stillness as Joe pulls back and thumbs at Nick’s mouth, murmuring, “Love you,” under his breath, and all it takes is for Nick to whisper, “Joe,” and then they’re falling.
Nick’s stomach drops out as his breath races from his lungs. He clutches at Joe, unsure of what to do, unsure of what he’s really doing. Joe guides him, sucks on his mouth desperately, tugs on his curls, and Nick gasps audibly when Joe’s warm hand gets under his shirt and presses against Nick’s bare belly. That heat shoots straight to Nick’s dick, and they jerk forward against Joe’s arm before he can stop himself.
That’s all the permission Joe needs. He abandons Nick’s mouth to lip at Nick’s neck, to suck on the soft skin there. Nick groans, gripping the back of Joe’s head and pushing him in, hips jerking against Joe’s helplessly. He’s chubbed up in his pants in no time at all, so fast he feels dizzy. Joe’s hands on him feel like heaven and sin and so hot, and he whimpers as Joe presses a firm hand down over Nick’s hard dick, along the zipper of his jeans.
“’wanna suck you--,” Joe mumbles into Nick’s neck, and Nick’s dick drools precome in a messy spurt into his boxers.
“Oh my god,” Nick cries, kissing desperately at Joe, his lips landing on Joe’s cheek, near his ear. “Please.”
Nick shoves shakily at Joe’s shoulders and Joe drops to his knees soundlessly. Nimble hands jerk down the zipper, and in a moment, Joe has his jeans down, shoved around Nick’s knees, and Joe grips Nick’s dick, heavy thick and dripping, in his hand. Joe eyes it reverently, licking his lips and licking lightly at the tip.
“J-Joe--,”
“Nicky, you’re so--,” and Joe takes Nick in his mouth. The feeling explodes in Nick, Joe’s hot, wet mouth all around him. He fucks into Joe’s mouth unconsciously, gagging him. He can’t stop himself, his nerves firing off like bottle rockets, and he gets his fingers in Joe’s short hair and pulls.
Joe treats him like some delicacy, suckling his dick carefully, barring Nick’s trembling hips with an arm. He gets as much of Nick’s thick little dick in his mouth as he can, gripping the base and jerking him in time with his sucks.
Nick is falling apart, sweating through his shirt and mumbling nonsense as Joe tugs him closer and closer to his release. Joe’s teeth scrape lightly on his shaft, and Nick’s eyes roll back.
Joe’s free hand fits around behind Nick, palms at his ass. He’s drooling now, too much spit in his mouth from Nick, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen-Joe’s pink lips stretched around him, eyes furrowed shut in concentration, face pink with arousal.
Joe surprises him and presses his finger against Nick’s hole, the tip just slipping in, and Nick’s orgasm rockets through him like a gunshot, punching out of his chest. His hips jerks into Joe’s mouth as he spills and spills his spunk down Joe’s throat, and it’s so intense it almost hurts.
Joe lets Nick from his mouth with an obscene slurp, wiping his hand over his mouth, breathing hard. Nick stumbles to his knees and holds Joe’s jaw, keeps his head up. He seems exhausted.
“Are you okay?” Nick asks shakily. He rubs his thumb over Joe’s abused lips, catching some come there. Joe looks up and meets Nick’s eyes, and he smiles, so painfully happy that it makes Nick choke a little on his breath.
“That was--,” Joe says, swallowing thickly. “You’re so amazing, Nicky J.”
Joe’s sweating and his hair is matted down, still wet. His face is flushed and blotchy, but glowing.
“D-do you need--,” Nick asks, looking down at Joe’s crotch, and Joe laughs a little, a small happy sound.
“N-no, I actually, uh-,” Joe says, and motions down at himself. “That was so hot, I couldn’t even…”
“Okay,” Nick says shakily. He needs to get control of himself-his limbs feel like jelly. He struggles up onto Joe’s bed and lies on his back. Tries to get his breathing under control. Joe eventually gets on the bed too, moving slowly and heavily.
They’ll figure out what this means for them, for the band, tomorrow. For now Nick just listens to Joe doze off and snore and tries to control the belly warm feeling that’s spreading through his chest. He smiles a little and falls asleep.
-END-
Recipient: mediaville
Title: Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Characters: Nick Jonas, Joe Jonas, Kevin Sr., Denise, Trace Cyrus
Pairings: Joe/Nick.
Rating: R.
Wordcount: 3,866
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Underage sexytimes?
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Title is from a Death Cab song.
A/N: Thanks to onelittlesleep for helping me with some ideas.
Summary: The media catches wind of the special closeness of Joe and Nick's relationship. After Nick punches out Trace Cyrus in Joe's defense, things begin to spiral out of control.
The Request:Things you like: First-times, humor, PORN, dub-con, jealousy.
Trace starts it. Nick’s never been one to throw blame around, but with the whole shit storm that stupid fight whipped up in the media, Nick is sticking hard to the notion that he acted in self defense. Well, brother defense.
It’s a clear night in New York City, but the air is crisp and cool and Nick and Joe both have heavy jackets on. They’re walking up Washington Avenue, heading to a small shop that Joe loves, and a lone photographer is quietly trailing them. It’s pretty nice, actually. Quiet.
They run into someone exiting a coffee shop on their right, and in a flash of tattoos and piercings, Nick realizes that it’s Trace Cyrus. Of all the people to run into on a Saturday night in New York, they managed to find the one person who simultaneously hates Joe for being friends with Demi and loathes Nick for breaking Miley’s heart.
“Hey Trace,” Joe says, tone even and civil. If there wasn’t a camera following them, Nick’s sure they would have blown past each other, but Trace seems willing to play ball.
He straightens his hooded sweatshirt with a grimace and smiles at them. He’s taller than Joe and Nick, all bony and pale, and his grin is more predatory than genial. “Hey kids,” he says, voice trailing. He looks them both up and down and Nick can feel Joe shift uncomfortably next to him. Joe hates Trace.
“Sorry we ran into you,” Joe says conversationally, with a certain finality in his voice, and he moves to step forward. He’s done with the conversation, but Trace stops him with a heavy hand on his chest.
“Woah,” Trace says, and he’s grinning so wide that Nick can see silver glint in his mouth. “Little Jonas,” he addresses Joe, and Joe lets out a controlled breath. The photographer is fifty feet behind them, silently snapping pictures. “So you’re all done with that Disney movie, right?”
“Camp Rock, yeah,” Nick says, putting his hand on Joe’s back, pushing him forward. They need to get going.
But Trace moves in front of Joe again and leers down at him. “With Demi, right?”
Joe stiffens visibly at that. He sets his jaw and looks past Trace, down the empty street. “Yep,” he clips.
Trace leans in conspiratorially and he smells like grease. He murmurs to Joe, “I bet Demi came on to you, didn’t she?” A shocked little noise bubbles out of Joe. “I bet she threw herself at you,” Trace continues. “The little slut.”
“Hey,” Joe says, and his voice is steel. His eyes lock onto Trace’s, jaw locked. Nick can hear Joe’s heart rate increase.
“Trace,” Nick says firmly, but Trace waves Nick away with his hand. He’s grinning like a hyena.
“I bet you fucked her, didn’t you?” Trace asks.
Joe mumbles something short and fast and all Nick can hear is something about “Just because you’re a dick-,” and then Trace is lunging forward and shoving Joe with both hands.
Joe stumbles back, caught off guard, and that stirs something dark, sudden in Nick. He grabs Joe’s arm and tugs him back, puts himself between them, but Trace manages to get a fist in Joe’s jacket and yanks him forward. Nick loses track of what happens for a second and then he hears a crack! Joe falls back like a felled tree, crumpling to the ground, and it’s not until Nick sees the thick blood coming from Joe’s nose that he realizes that Trace punched him.
The only way Nick knows about what happened next was from what Joe tells him later. Nick doesn’t remember. He apparently makes a loud noise and jumps at Trace, knocking him to the ground. The lone photographer runs to them and takes a hundred shots of Nick slamming the heels of his fists into Trace’s face.
Joe pulls him away a moment later, calling, “Nick,” grabbing him by the arm and pulling him off with a hard yank. Nick’s stunned, blood all over his hands, and he lets Joe pull him away, back into the coffee shop, and Nick watches as the photographer snaps shots of their retreat.
The coffee shop is warm and quiet, and there’s an audible gasp as the lone worker sees them. Joe sits Nick down in one of the wooden chairs and gets out his phone shakily, calling their dad with weak fingers. Nick can’t really focus on much, just the smell of the coffee, and his mouth feels real slippery and sharp, and it’s not until Joe touches a gentle finger to Nick’s mouth that Nick realizes his mouth is full of blood. Trace must have gotten him once.
They sit in silence as they wait for someone to come pick them up. The employee brings them clean towels and bags of ice, and Joe is gentle as he encourages Nick to spit the contents of his mouth into an empty cup and presses a sack full of ice against his own eye.
~
The fight was bad. The photographs of it were even worse. Within an hour of the incident, the pictures are circulating the web, along with dozens of outlandish stories explaining Nick’s “brutal, ruthless attack” on the helpless Trace Cyrus.
Kevin Sr. is silently furious about the whole thing, but he keeps quiet as a medic checks Joe’s nose for a break and feels around Nick’s mouth to make sure everything’s in place. Their mom hovers, worried sick, acting as a buffer to their dad’s disappointment.
The article coming out two days later is just bad luck.
The cover of the Monday edition of US Weekly is a picture of Joe and Nick, during an unnamed concert. Joe’s arm is thrown over Nick’s shoulders as Nick jams chords on his guitar, and they’re grinning at each other.
In large, block print across the picture reads: Nick and Joe Jonas-How Close is too Close?
The triple page spread inside the magazine is light on text, instead featuring dozens of pictures of Joe and Nick at various events. In each photo, Joe and Nick are pressed together, side by side or front to front. In a few, Joe is holding Nick from behind, teasing him, pushing him around.
Alone, none of the pictures would be taken as anything more than sibling roughhousing. But there’s a picture where Nick looking over his shoulder at Joe, eyes crinkled shut with laughter, and Joe is beaming down at him, so happy…
Had the fight happened alone, it would have passed eventually. The article alone, especially one from US Weekly, would have never gained ground.
But they come out within a few days of each other, and everyone seems to notice, and for the first time in their history, the Jonas Brothers are enveloped in scandal.
They have a family meeting about it-just Joe and Nick and Denise and Kevin Sr., as Kevin is still in the Bahamas with Danielle. Kevin Sr. has a fragile hold on his composure as he addresses his two sons.
“What exactly do you think we should do about this?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his eyes. Joe and Nick sit side by side on a couch, knees touching, and their mother stands by the door, looking sick.
“We can’t do anything about the article,” she says quietly. Nick and Joe look to her and she nods and says, “You’ve done nothing wrong, boys.”
Joe gives her a little smile, making their father snort. “You started a fight,” he says to Joe, voice hard.
They’ve talked about the fight too many times-it takes no time for Nick to transition from defensive to agitated. Still, he hates arguing with his dad. “We didn’t start anything,” Nick says quietly.
“You punched someone, Nick. You assaulted an innocent person, in front of a camera no less.”
That snaps something in Nick and he jerks to his feet. “You’re forgetting the fact that he hit Joe first. He almost broke Joe’s nose dad, or did you forget about that?”
Kevin Sr. takes a split second to gather himself. Nick does not argue with him, ever. He begins to pace. “But why did you get involved?” Kevin Sr. asked, growing more upset. “He hit Joe. Joe is a grown man who doesn’t need his baby brother defending him.”
“Is that what this is then?” Nick asks, fingers balling into fists. “If Joe were my sister or my girlfriend, you’d be proud of me, but because he’s my brother you’re ashamed? This is some stupid gender thing?”
His dad looks up at him sharply and strides over to Nick so quickly that his mom jumps from across the room. “That is exactly my point, Nick,” he hisses, poking a hard finger into Nick’s chest. “Joe is not your sister, and he is not your girlfriend. And I’ve let you two treat each other as such for far too long.”
“Kevin,” Denise says darkly, a warning. Her arms fold over her chest and she walks to him.
“No, Denise. They need to hear this.” Nick stands in front of Joe, unable to stop himself as his dad winds up. “It is not normal for brothers to share rooms. It is not normal for brothers watch movies and cuddle on the couch together.”
“We don’t--,” Nick starts, but then Joe reaches out to touch at the small of Nick’s back and Kevin Sr. knocks his hand away.
“Don’t,” he says, breathing heavily. He straightens up, tugging at his sleeves, composing himself. “Go to your rooms. Now.”
Nick takes one look back at Joe and then takes off, striding out of the room, fuming. He’s halfway out the door when he hears his dad say, “Joe, if I catch you in his room tonight, so help me--,”.
Nick gets to his room and slams the door hard.
He gets a text that night from Joe. Nick knows what it’ll say before he opens his phone-it’s their little tradition.
“ilu nick j,” the text says.
Nick reads it a few times and then shoves his phone under his pillow without responding.
~
Nick makes a conscious effort to distance himself from Joe after that, with varying degrees of success. He and Joe don’t talk about it, which makes it weird. When he sits next to Frankie the next day at breakfast, Joe actually gives him a hurt look.
But, Nick powers through. Puts his head down and fights it-the inevitable gravity between him and his brother. Joe gets it soon enough, and the drop in his mood is severe enough to make Nick reconsider. But when he palms at the back of Joe’s neck and smiles, their dad walks past them, bumping against Nick’s shoulder hard enough to unsettle him.
Nick swipes his thumb over the back of Joe’s neck, tries to smile a little, but Joe looks at him with a face akin to mild disgust and he pulls away.
It’s hard, staying away from Joe. It was never something either of them thought about, the gravitational pull between them, so Nick has to put it in the very forefront of his mind to keep himself from drifting to Joe’s side. Not even to touch or interact, just to be there. His place in the world for the last 17 years has been at Joe’s side, and it feels foreign and ugly to force himself to stay across the room.
But there are cameras everywhere, and their dad is watching with dark eyes. So Nick fights through it-puts his head down and shoves his hands into his pockets when Joe’s around. It’s something he needs to do; for the band, for his dad. For them.
Joe doesn’t handle it well. When he first realizes Nick’s going to give avoiding him a real effort, his mood plummets and he shuffles around for a few days, head down, scuffing his feet.
That quickly evaporates into annoyance, and ultimately, anger. After two weeks, Joe’s acting like a petulant child, ignoring Nick’s presence, refusing to talk in interviews, and basically being a giant dick to anyone who has the misfortune to interact with him. He feels lousy, Nick gets that-he feels crappy about it too, but they need to get past this…thing. Nick thinks maybe if they can just stick it out for a while, long enough to get past this…need for each other, then maybe it can get easier.
It’s the third week when Joe finally snaps.
Nick gets to his hotel room late that night, kicking off his shoes as he walks through the door. The lights are already on, and Joe is standing by the window, arms folded over his chest. His hair is shaggy and messy, and he looks over at Nick when he enters.
“Joe,” Nick says warningly. They’ve spent weeks avoiding just this. Joe walks over to him calmly.
“Do I make you feel uncomfortable?” Joe asks, and his voice is soft, but there’s a hard edge to it. He stands in front of Nick and his arms fall to his sides.
“What do you mean?” Nick asks, trying to slow things down. Joe’s already in his space, and it’s making Nick’s chest ache, just seeing Joe this close up again. The dark lines of his eyebrows, the freckles sprinkled over his nose. The dark almonds of his eyes that look at Nick imploringly.
“I mean,” Joe says, and he steps into Nick, their toes touching. Nick’s heart jumps into his throat and he sucks in a breath. Being with Joe like this, so close, after so long avoiding him is like overdosing, like drowning. His fingertips begin to shake. Joe reaches out and touches at Nick’s cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Does this feel wrong?” Joe asks.
It’s just a touch, something Nick wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at a month before. But its different now, charged somehow, and the feeling of Joe’s thumb tip brushing over his jaw sends sparks off in Nick’s chest.
Joe steps into him, bumping their chests together, and Nick can feel Joe’s breath puffing hotly on his face, and he has to close his eyes. He breathes out hard through his mouth, trying to steady himself. Joe’s presence is drugging him, making him sway on his feet, and he feels so lightheaded that he has to reach out to grab at Joe’s waist to keep himself up. He keeps his eyes closed even as he feels Joe’s lips murmur against his jaw, “Does this feel wrong to you, Nick?”
Nick’s hand seizes on Joe’s hip, squeezes hard, and when he moves his head, his cheek rubs against Joe’s stubbled one, and it steals his breath away. He has no control over this situation, and it’s scaring him.
Joe pulls back then, and Nick’s face feels cold as Joe separates them. “Nick,” Joe says quietly, and Nick’s eyes open slowly. Joe’s watching him openly, naked emotions playing through those dark eyes. Sadness. “If this feels wrong to you, tell me. It doesn’t to me. It feels right. I feel better when I’m next to you.” He pauses and touches at Nick’s jaw again and Nick’s stomach flips. “If you’re avoiding me because you want to, I can respect that. But if you’re putting us through this to make anyone happy but yourself, I can’t stand for it. Because it’s killing me and it’s killing you.”
He takes a step back, prying Nick’s tight fist from his hip. “Think about it,” he says quietly.
And he leaves. Nick stands there in the middle of his hotel room, shaking and cold, unsure of himself and how he feels. He runs a cold shower and stays in until his skin is angry red and frozen.
~
Nick doesn’t sleep a whole lot for the next few days. Joe acts the same, if a bit more subdued, still staying away from Nick. But he answers a question about Camp Rock 2 in an interview, which is enough to both Nick and Kevin to swivel around and look at him. He gives Nick a sad smile and rehashes some scripted line about how they love to work with their friends and they can’t wait for everyone to see it.
Nick feels hopelessly restless. His skin feels too tight on him, itchy, and every time he comes near Joe his heart thumps so hard in his chest he thinks he’ll pass out.
He meets Joe at the door of his hotel room a few days later. Joe sees him and lets him in without a word, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Nick scrubs his fingers through his curls. “I don’t know what I want, Joe,” he admits quietly.
Joe walks up to him slowly. His hair is wet from the shower, his white undershirt dotted with water drops. There’s water on his eyelashes. “You know what you want, Nick,” Joe says, just as quiet. “You’re just afraid of it.”
Nick tries not to flinch when Joe touches at Nick’s curls. His breath puffs from his lungs, and he presses his nose to the inside of Joe’s wrist.
“I can’t stay away from you, Nick,” Joe says, and he sounds sorry, repentant. Desperate. His fingers curl underneath Nick’s chin. “Stop me,” he breathes.
Nick’s heart leaps to his throat and his eyes stutter shut as Joe leans in. Joe kisses him. Just a soft pressure of dry lips to his, but it feels like release to Nick. His mind screams that this should be weird, this should be wrong, but when Joe’s other hand holds Nick’s elbow and pulls him in, he can’t stop himself from making a little noise and opening his mouth to Joe.
Joe pulls back sharp, like he was burned. His eyes are impossibly dark, black almost, and there’s a heat there that makes Nick’s knees weak. “Do you want this?” Joe asks, his lips brushing over Nick’s as he speaks. His breath is so hot and Nick bites back another little noise. He nods, unable to form any words, so Joe leans in and kisses him again.
It’s like climbing a hill on a rollercoaster. The buildup is slow, Joe tilting Nick’s head and mouthing at him, licking into his mouth and tasting him slowly. Nick grunts a little and tries to pull closer to Joe-the distance between them feels like too much, and Joe sucks on Nick’s fat bottom lip, and heat coils in Nick’s belly, leeching out into his limbs like blood in water.
They slow and reach the top of the hill, and there’s that moment of ultimate stillness as Joe pulls back and thumbs at Nick’s mouth, murmuring, “Love you,” under his breath, and all it takes is for Nick to whisper, “Joe,” and then they’re falling.
Nick’s stomach drops out as his breath races from his lungs. He clutches at Joe, unsure of what to do, unsure of what he’s really doing. Joe guides him, sucks on his mouth desperately, tugs on his curls, and Nick gasps audibly when Joe’s warm hand gets under his shirt and presses against Nick’s bare belly. That heat shoots straight to Nick’s dick, and they jerk forward against Joe’s arm before he can stop himself.
That’s all the permission Joe needs. He abandons Nick’s mouth to lip at Nick’s neck, to suck on the soft skin there. Nick groans, gripping the back of Joe’s head and pushing him in, hips jerking against Joe’s helplessly. He’s chubbed up in his pants in no time at all, so fast he feels dizzy. Joe’s hands on him feel like heaven and sin and so hot, and he whimpers as Joe presses a firm hand down over Nick’s hard dick, along the zipper of his jeans.
“’wanna suck you--,” Joe mumbles into Nick’s neck, and Nick’s dick drools precome in a messy spurt into his boxers.
“Oh my god,” Nick cries, kissing desperately at Joe, his lips landing on Joe’s cheek, near his ear. “Please.”
Nick shoves shakily at Joe’s shoulders and Joe drops to his knees soundlessly. Nimble hands jerk down the zipper, and in a moment, Joe has his jeans down, shoved around Nick’s knees, and Joe grips Nick’s dick, heavy thick and dripping, in his hand. Joe eyes it reverently, licking his lips and licking lightly at the tip.
“J-Joe--,”
“Nicky, you’re so--,” and Joe takes Nick in his mouth. The feeling explodes in Nick, Joe’s hot, wet mouth all around him. He fucks into Joe’s mouth unconsciously, gagging him. He can’t stop himself, his nerves firing off like bottle rockets, and he gets his fingers in Joe’s short hair and pulls.
Joe treats him like some delicacy, suckling his dick carefully, barring Nick’s trembling hips with an arm. He gets as much of Nick’s thick little dick in his mouth as he can, gripping the base and jerking him in time with his sucks.
Nick is falling apart, sweating through his shirt and mumbling nonsense as Joe tugs him closer and closer to his release. Joe’s teeth scrape lightly on his shaft, and Nick’s eyes roll back.
Joe’s free hand fits around behind Nick, palms at his ass. He’s drooling now, too much spit in his mouth from Nick, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen-Joe’s pink lips stretched around him, eyes furrowed shut in concentration, face pink with arousal.
Joe surprises him and presses his finger against Nick’s hole, the tip just slipping in, and Nick’s orgasm rockets through him like a gunshot, punching out of his chest. His hips jerks into Joe’s mouth as he spills and spills his spunk down Joe’s throat, and it’s so intense it almost hurts.
Joe lets Nick from his mouth with an obscene slurp, wiping his hand over his mouth, breathing hard. Nick stumbles to his knees and holds Joe’s jaw, keeps his head up. He seems exhausted.
“Are you okay?” Nick asks shakily. He rubs his thumb over Joe’s abused lips, catching some come there. Joe looks up and meets Nick’s eyes, and he smiles, so painfully happy that it makes Nick choke a little on his breath.
“That was--,” Joe says, swallowing thickly. “You’re so amazing, Nicky J.”
Joe’s sweating and his hair is matted down, still wet. His face is flushed and blotchy, but glowing.
“D-do you need--,” Nick asks, looking down at Joe’s crotch, and Joe laughs a little, a small happy sound.
“N-no, I actually, uh-,” Joe says, and motions down at himself. “That was so hot, I couldn’t even…”
“Okay,” Nick says shakily. He needs to get control of himself-his limbs feel like jelly. He struggles up onto Joe’s bed and lies on his back. Tries to get his breathing under control. Joe eventually gets on the bed too, moving slowly and heavily.
They’ll figure out what this means for them, for the band, tomorrow. For now Nick just listens to Joe doze off and snore and tries to control the belly warm feeling that’s spreading through his chest. He smiles a little and falls asleep.
-END-