As I was writing this, I threw pieces of it at Velma and Kelilah, both of whom encouraged me on my way. Sandy the Older beta-ed, and anything that sucks is probably a place where I didn't listen to her. The title is a line from The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell.

The one thing Nick has always counted on is being treated like an adult. His parents do it, his siblings do it, and the people he auditions for sure as hell expect he acts like one. When Lou squeezed his hand, and smiled, and welcomed him to the group, a group meant mostly for "male singers that move well between 16-19 years of age," he figured it would be the same. But AJ and Howie ruffle his hair and call him baby, and Kevin is, like, *21* or something, and he just knows this new guy, Brian, is gonna be the same.

Nick hates being babied. He hasn't been a baby for a long time, and he doesn't understand why he should start now, just because suddenly four strangers think he will.

He should've joined the Mouse Club.

* * *

Brian's pretty homesick. He hasn't been too far from Kentucky before, and Nick guesses if Kevin weren't there, Brian might go home. Of course, if Kevin weren't there Brian wouldn't have joined in the first place, and that would be too bad, 'cause he seems like a decent guy.

And he sings perfectly.

He doesn't really cry, which Nick appreciates -- he wouldn't know how to handle it. If he were at home, and Aaron or Angel or BJ or Les were crying, he'd throw an arm across their shoulders and hug them and rub their backs and stuff, but Brian's 18.

Nick doesn't know how to be a younger sibling.

Most of the time, it doesn't matter, because Brian'll pretend nothing's wrong, even if his eyes are red and puffy. He'll cajole someone into playing ball, or something, and it'll blow over. But sometimes.

And the thing of it is, Nick is sure he could do a better job than Kevin, who doesn't know how to be an older brother at *all*, but he can't, 'cause even though Brian doesn't treat him like a baby, that's what he thinks. It's what they all think, even AJ.

It pisses Nick off.

But he gets a sort of guilty pleasure out of Brian crying, because it isn't him.

When his mom has to go home, 'cause BJ's in trouble again or the kids need her or something, Nick breathes a sigh of relief. He gives her a reassuring hug, says he'll be fine with the guys, and waves her off.

And wishes he had a mom like Brian's, that he could miss.

* * *

Nick likes touring, even though AJ insists they're not on *real* tours, not until they get out of schools and into "real venues", and he has to bring homework with him, but he can't work on it while they travel because reading in moving vehicles makes him sick. But he has a Gameboy, and Brian, with whom he plots out nicknames for people -- Lou says they need to sound more urban, which Nick thinks is slang for ghetto, in order to have a wider appeal.

Nick thinks he's pretty appealing the way he is, but the girls don't seem to agree, so maybe Lou knows better. He says as much to Kevin, one night, when he's navigating because he's the only other person awake. Kevin pulls over, tells Howie to go back to sleep when he stirs, and drags Nick out of the car.

"Has Lou been saying stuff to you?"

Nick blinks. "Um, like, you mean, besides what he says in rehearsals and stuff?"

"When we're not around," Kevin says, "or your mom or dad."

"Not really," Nick says. "Why?"

Kevin pinches his chin, forcing him to tilt his head back. He stares up into Kevin's eyes, confused and vaguely nervous.

"If Lou says anything," Kevin says, "tell one of us immediately. Or if he touches you, wants to keep you behind from rehearsals or photo shoots or interviews, and talk to you in private. Don't go if you can help it at all. Get me."

Nick scowls. "I'm not a *kid*," he says.

Kevin's fingers tighten on his chin. "Promise you'll get me."

"Fine, whatever, I promise."

"Okay," Kevin says.

It's not until they've been driving again for a good 45 minutes or so that Nick turns to Kevin and says, "Photo shoots and interviews?"

"Just wait," Kevin says, grinning a little. "We'll get there."

Nick snorts. They can't even get to Tallahassee.

* * *

Sometimes Nick feels like his life doesn't really exist when he isn't doing group stuff. His brother and sisters seem to get bigger every time he sees them, and even though the twins still think he's the coolest thing ever, Leslie sometimes treats him like a stranger. BJ tells him he's annoying, but the guys do that, so he doesn't let it bug him.

He doesn't go to school, even when he's home, because he falls behind on tour. It means extra hours working at home, working sometimes even when his siblings are on school vacation, but all they see is that Nick doesn't have to go, and they do, and it's like another wedge between them.

He makes sure to do fun stuff with them as much as he can, to make up for it, though it's hard without a license. No amount of begging and pleading and wide eyes and guilt tripping can make his parents let him drive without one, but his dad does offer to take them to Disney World, so that's something.

He'd call one of the guys, but it only makes Leslie slip farther away -- not that she doesn't like them, but she says he's different, so he doesn't want to emphasize that.

He is different, a little, but only because he's older, and she is too, so it's not fair -- but life is never fair.

Nick accepts that, really, it's just that sometimes, he wishes it were unfair in his favor.

But it doesn't seem to be, no matter what Kevin says, at least, not when he's stuck at home for Christmas and even if all the guys were in Orlando, he couldn't drive over to see them.

He calls Brian at night, counting precious minutes since he only gets so much long-distance allowance, and bides his time until the holidays are over.

* * *

Nick likes Sweden an awful lot. It would be cooler if his mom weren't around, if the guys would always go to the all-ages clubs, so he could hang out with them all the time, but he'll take what he can get. It's nice having friends, anyway, and even when they pick on him it's friendly. (And he's *never* gonna pick on Aaron or the girls anymore, not after, like, two and a half years of being called baby and having his hair ruffled and getting teased and shi--stuff.) They don't beat him up or anything, although Kevin's teaching him how to fight anyway.

And Brian. Brian is, like. Brian's really cool, even if his nickname *is* B-Rok. Kaos is kind of stupid, but nowhere *near* the level of B-Rok or Sweet D. Nick doesn't understand why Kevin and AJ got the good names, but when he tells Brian this Brian just snorts and calls him a goober, which Nick looked up after last time, and it's a *peanut*, of all things, so Nick doesn't quite trust Brian to know what's cool.

He's good at basketball, though, and he filled Howie's shampoo with honey, so that's something. And he's always up for Nintendo.

* * *

We've Got It Going On flops, and Nick's world turns upside down.

Number 69.

AJ takes a perverted delight in that, but Nick would rather be 68, or 58, or hell, while he's wishing for miracles, number 1.

The tour is cancelled, and they're being sent back to Europe, to try and make it over there, if the single does better. Not that Nick has anything against Europe, exactly, and it's neat to travel and not have real school and stuff (although he and AJ are determined to get a different tutor this time around), and of course he wants the single to take off in Europe, he wants it to take off everywhere, it's just.

Angel and Aaron are only 8, and Leslie and BJ are still so young, no matter what BJ says, and he just *knows* his mom's gonna stay home with them.

The thought of her touring with him is worse, in some ways, but the thought of being in Europe for months, maybe, maybe longer, and not seeing her, makes his stomach twist until he thinks he understands how Brian felt, when he first showed up from Kentucky.

When Kevin keeps him behind at rehearsal and asks what's up, Nick tells him that, and Kevin hugs him tightly.

"You'll have us," he says, and they both know it isn't *quite* the same, but more and more, it's becoming almost better.

Nick's not going to say that, of course. He just smirks and tells Kevin he's worse than any mother anyway, and giggles hysterically as Kevin carries him, upside down, to where his mom is waiting in the car.

His dad is going to have to work, too, no matter what his mom does. But Nick can't talk to Kevin about that, or AJ, and Brian is gonna be homesick enough himself. He tells Howie, instead, and even though Howie can't fix it, even though he's too old to be given ice cream as a cure-all, it's still nice, sitting in Baskin Robbins, telling his older brother what's wrong.

* * *

They're in the top ten in Germany, and Nick feels like everything's gone topsy-turvy all over again. No one at home knows who they are, but he can't leave the hotel in München without getting mobbed by screaming girls.

Lou hires them bodyguards, at least for the Germany part of their tour, though he says things will be back to the beginning when they hit the U.K.

Nick spends a lot of his homework time on geography and foriegn culture. He likes the math stuff best, but math won't help him sell albums, and a smattering of German always seems to get the job done.

Brian, Kevin, and Howie insist that they all dress up at Halloween. It's all weird in Europe, not at all like at home, so they buy their own candy and knock on each other's hotel rooms. It's really stupid, and they have to bribe AJ with beer to get him to go along (they threaten to take away Nick's Nintendo, which is a fate *worse* than an alcohol-free existence -- after all, Nick's lived nearly 16 years without beer). Later, when they pile all the blankets onto one bed, turn up the heat as far as they dare, and climb in together, shivering, Nick asks Brian what the whole thing was about.

"It's not like I can keep the candy, you know. I'll, like. I'll get zits, or something." Nick is terrified of zits -- Susan always tisks at him as she does his make-up, and his mom lectures him about the evils of chocolate. Nick thinks his mom is crazy, but he's not about to tell her that, not when there are Southerners around to chastize him for having bad manners.

"It's not about the candy, Kaos."

"Um, Rok? Halloween is *all* candy."

"Well, yeah," Brian says, "but tonight was about." He pauses, getting his words in order. Kevin talks slowly because of the drawl, but Nick has found with Brian, it's more that he doesn't want to say something wrong. Nick rushes over his own words, tripping on his tongue, but if he sounds stupid all he has to do is smile. "Tonight," Brian says, "we just wanted to give you a childhood."

"I'm a teen-ager," Nick says.

Brian shifts, turning onto his side. "I know," he says, and Nick can barely make the words out, facing Brian's back.

He brushes a hand over Brian's arm. "It was fun," he says softly.

When Brian rolls over, sticks out his tongue, Nick smiles at him. "It was," he says, and falls asleep.

* * *

They tour the U.K., and flip! nobody knows them. The bodyguards are gone, apparently being an unnecessary expense. It sucks, 'cause Nick was learning way more about fighting from them than Kevin could ever teach him. He thinks it may be important someday, knowing how to defend himself. Not so much against the screaming girls -- there's really no way to defend against that, except to oh, say, leave the country where their album is in the top ten and go some place where it hasn't hit 40 -- but, like. In a barfight. Barfights are cool.

Bars are cool too, in a he's-so-totally-not-allowed-there kind of way, but once he has his 16th birthday. Once he's 16, he'll be able to order a beer with his dinner, in a pub, and at least attempt to look as cool as the others. It helps that he's grown, too -- he's taller even than AJ, no matter what the shrimp says, and he's *positive* he's gonna be taller than Kevin. Tall, and skinny, because even though he eats as much as three Howies put together, it doesn't stick, like, ever, and as long as he stays with meat and potatoes or MickeyD's, English food isn't that bad. Way better than Germany, with their krauts and sour things and sausages all over the place. Fish and chips are awesome, anyway, even if the English use vinegar, of all things. Nick sticks to mayonnaise, like Denniz taught him.

English accents are kind of neat, too, although some of them are just plain stupid. He and Brian spend an entire week talking in King's English when not in public, and another three days after that with a bad Cockney accent, before Kevin smacks them.

Sometimes the guys sneak him into clubs, when his mom's not around, and that's even cooler than bars. Instead of drunks fighting, drunks dance, all pressed up against him, arms raised, heads tossed back, lost in the music.

The rhythm pounds in Nick's veins, and he escapes the eagle eyes of Kevin to weave through the dancefloor, supposedly on his way to the bathroom.

When he realizes he's dancing with two guys, grinding into one, being ground by the other, his eyes widen. He bites back a moan, slipping out from between them. They yell something, but he can't hear it over the music. He shakes his head, and that seems to be the right answer, because they shrug and dance with each other, and Nick practically sprints back to the table and Kevin's side.

"Long bathroom break," Kevin says, low in his ear, and Nick jumps.

"I have to go," he says. Kevin raises one eyebrow, and fuck, that's ho--that's *Kevin*.

"I'm tired," Nick says. "Can I have cab money?"

Kevin frowns. "I don't think you should go out alone," he says. "Let me tell Howie we're leaving, and I'll take you back to the hotel."

Nick just wants to get *away*, but he's also not up to disputing whether or not he's old enough to leave on his own, not when he's feeling quite so young and utterly freaked out.

"I'll meet you outside," he says instead. "It's stuffy in here."

He just has time to savor the cold night air, will himself back to normalcy, before Kevin returns. There's a hand, warm and reassuring on his back, a tug pulling him against Kevin's side, and Nick sighs, and knows things will never be normal again, even if they tank in England, and get sent home, their record contract torn to pieces.

He rests his forehead against the window of the taxi, and tries to think of girls.

* * *

The one nice thing about Europe in winter is that it's cold, like, actually freezing, snow falling in drifts on the streets, hard-to-drive freezing, and that means one thing: bulky clothing.

Not only does he not have to see guys on the street in faded jeans and tight shirts, not have to think about them pressing, hot and bulging, against his back, the heat from their hands searing him even through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, but while he doesn't think about it, he also doesn't have to worry that anyone will notice.

His pants are large, loose, and nicely obscuring. Nick takes to wearing them all over the place, even on the bus, even in hotels. He tells Brian, Howie, and Kevin that they're comfortable. He tells AJ to fuck off.

He spends a lot of time locked in the bathroom, staring at pictures of naked women and wishing there were a little less flesh *there*, and a little more over *there*. He remembers that night, in the club, sandwiched between two men. He remembers Kevin's voice, soft and deep, his palm, warm against Nick's back. He thinks of Brian, asleep in the other bed, and comes with a gasp.

He starts spending nights alone in the hotel, binging on leftover Halloween candy and pizza, rather than going out. When Brian offers to stay with him, Nick shrugs and says he has Nintendo.

Brian stays anyway, and he loses two games of Mario watching the lines on Brian's hand.

* * *

Nick decides after a few months of jerking off to images of his bandmates that maybe the problem isn't that he's. like that.

The problem, he decides, is that German girls, and European girls in general, are just. Weird.

For one thing, the girls in Germany don't seem to understand the concept of shaving. Not that Nick is turned off by hair, exactly -- he spent a good week fantasizing about AJ's thighs -- he just. Doesn't like it on women. And maybe that's totally unfair and sexist, but Nick is a teenaged guy and he thinks he has a right to be unfair and sexist and objectify anyone he wants to.

And it's hard to fantasize about anyone who, upon meeting him, would rip him into little shredded pieces of skin and bone and blood.

And that shrieking is really, really annoying. And piercing.

And they're all. Like. He doesn't know what, but it doesn't matter, because if the girls are like it, it's pretty much bad, unless it involves them being in the audience and him on stage.

When he complains loudly that the girls in Germany suck ass, Kevin snorts and AJ says, "fuckin' hope so, man."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," AJ says loftily, "but I prefer the not totally faggot translation."

Nick frowns, and blinks back tears. "Fuck you."

"Aww, whatsa matter? Is ittle Nicky hurt?"

Nick leaps over the back of the couch, arms swinging. He forgets pretty much everything anyone ever taught him about fighting, but he manages to get a good knock in before Kevin pulls him off AJ.

"What the *fuck*?" AJ says.

"*Fuck*. *you*." Nick tears himself from Kevin's grip and storms to the bathroom.

Before he slams the door he hears Kevin saying, "Cabin fever. Let him sulk, Aje."

AJ pounds on the door a minute later, shouting, "Get the fuck over yourself, asshole. And don't ever hit my fucking face again."

The sound of his voice, growling, is enough to send Nick over the edge.

The girls in Germany, he thinks, the girls in Germany have nothing to do with it.

* * *

His mom has to be back in the States over his birthday -- of course -- so the guys are left in charge of "making sure my Nicky has a fabulous sweet sixteen."

Sometimes Nick really wants to kill his mom.

The guys, even Brian, hire him a stripper.

Sometimes Nick really wants to kill them, too.

The woman straddles his lap, running a hand up his chest, and it's really not sexy at all, especially when three of his brothers are standing behind him, staring not so subtly at her admittedly impressive cleavage.

"I." Nick swallows, grabs at her wrists and pushes her away. "I can't."

He's out of the chair and locked in the bathroom, dry-heaving, before they have a chance to catch him.

"Nick?" Brian knocks on the door. "Nick, she's gone. Frack, please."

"We didn't mean to embarrass you," Kevin says.

Howie joins them at the door. "Nicky?"

"Come on," AJ says, and he even sounds as concerned as the others, which is an impressive feat, Nick figures, since he's probably actually plotting how to best sneak the stripper into his and Howie's room for a private demonstration at a later date. "Nick," AJ says. "Nick, come out."

He bites back a laugh, because it really isn't funny, except that it is, because AJ said "come out", and he pretty much has to, doesn't he?

He unlocks the door.

* * *

"Nicky?" Howie slides an arm around his shoulder. "Hey," he says, hugging Nick to his side.

"Hey." Nick ducks his head, not wanting to look them in the face. "I, um. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Brian says. "I *told* them it was a bad idea--"

"No," Nick says. "Not about that."

"Hah!" AJ grins and punches Brian in the arm. "Told *you*. It's not too late to bring her back, Nick, the elevator probably hasn't even--"

"No!"

He's maybe a little too forceful, because AJ jumps a little, and Kevin smacks him.

"I." Nick pulls away from Howie -- he can't do this if they're right *there*, touching him, because what if they're *not*, when he's done?

"AJ's just being an ass," Kevin says. "Like always."

"I am not! She was hot, okay? And if that's traumatizing for Nick, I'm sorry, but some of us are *more* than willing to take that lap dance, which, let me add, we already *paid* for--"

"I'm gay," Nick blurts out, and immediately turns bright red. He looks at the floor, fiddling with his shirt sleeve, and wishes for once he could think things through like Brian, know how to say what he wants.

He doesn't think a smile can dazzle his way out of this one.

"I'm sorry about the stripper, but, um, that's why. I'm gay."

He sneaks a look at them from under his lashes. They don't *seem* angry, he doesn't think, but then, they're not exactly throwing their arms around him, either.

"Oh," Brian says, and then, "oh, Nick." He hugs Nick tightly, and part of Nick's world falls back into place again. He has Frick, anyway, no matter what, he has his Frick, and Howie's hugging him too, and Kevin's got all three of them, and AJ shouts, "group hug!" and jumps on Nick's back.

"I woulda gotten a guy," he whispers, "if I'd known."

Nick drops him on his ass.

* * *

Later, after the party's died down and it's time for bed or they'll all be too tired to move in the morning, Kevin rests a hand on Nick's shoulder.

"It may never come up," he says, "because of Kristin, but I think you should know that I'm bi. If you need to talk about it."

Nick sits on his bed, facing Kevin, and after a moment Kevin sits next to him, smiles hesistantly.

"Do the guys know?" Nick asks.

"Brian does. Before Kris, I had a boyfriend. Sam. His family was." Kevin pauses, searching for a diplomatic phrase. "Less than enthusiastic about us, so I brought him home with me for Christmas."

"What happened?"

"His mom convinced him to give girls a try." Nick wrinkles his nose, and Kevin laughs. "Women are beautiful," he says, "but yeah. Sam always maintained he was gay, not bi. I haven't seen him since we broke up, but. I don't think he's very happy."

"I'm sorry," Nick says.

Kevin shrugs. "I have Kristin," he says, and stands. Nick knows the conversation's over.

He tries not to watch as Kevin strips for bed, to concentrate on removing his own shirt, his pants. A sliver of moonlight sneaks through the crack between the curtains, and Kevin's broad back shines as he slips into bed.

Nick forces himself to roll over, and falls asleep facing the wall.

* * *

Johnny tells them that they're gonna be shipped home soon, to record an album, an actual album, and that's pretty much the best news Nick has heard all year -- granted, the year hasn't gotten that far along yet, but still.

The thing is, though, he's positive that his dad, at least, will be able to tell. Maybe not his mom, because she's kind of clueless sometimes, as long as he pretends to make nice with their legions of female fans, but his dad.

AJ tells him he has an inflated opinion of his father, that no one can see gayness unless they know to look for it, and on no condition is he to bother Kevin about this.

Brian tells him he has to tell his family, he can't keep such a big part of himself from them, not when his siblings are already complaining that they don't know him anymore, not when Leslie has to be forced to say more than "Hi" and "Fine" on the telephone, and on no condition is he to bother Kevin about this.

Howie tells him everything will work out just fine, of course his dad isn't gonna disown him, and on no condition is he to bother Kevin about this.

Kevin hugs him, says losing a dad is a scary thing, and offers to sit with Nick while he makes the phone call home.

Kevin squeezes his hand the whole time, holds his breath between the seconds when Nick says "I'm gay" and when he starts to cry and chokes out, "love you too."

He hugs Nick again, after, and whispers, "Shh, shh, it's okay. He loves you, Nick, it's okay, it's okay, he'll be there."

Nick nods, and tries to stop crying, and clutches Kevin tighter.

"I'm here," Kevin murmurs, and even though he's practically sobbing, 16 years old and crying like a baby, snotty nose and all, face buried in Kevin's t-shirt, he thinks that maybe everything will be okay, after all.

* * *

It's spring again, back in England, and suddenly it's warm enough that when their hotel has a pool -- Lou grows more generous the more they sell, and number 14 in the UK is their best so far -- they all go swimming.

Nick realizes within the first few minutes that this was a monumentally stupid idea, at least on his part, because hey, whoa, wet men.

Howie, small and dark and whispering something to Brian, damp material clinging to his. legs.

Kevin, lounging by the side of the pool, moist skin shining even in the flourescent lights.

AJ, rivulets of water dripping down his chest, curling through the hair on his calves.

Brian, head tossed back, laughing at Howie, shaking his head and spraying them all.

Stupid, he thinks, and hopes the water's cold.

* * *

It's their last night in Europe, at least for awhile. Johnny says something about Canada, Asia, but of course, that will be after the album -- their first *album*.

It's their last night in Europe, and the thought of going back to Florida is both exciting and petrifying.

It's not just that he doesn't know his siblings anymore; it's that he doesn't know how to live without someone in the bed next to his, maybe a cot in the room, and two or three someones next door.

They're gonna go back, and AJ and Denise'll be in their own house, and Howie can get an apartment or go home, and Kevin and Brian, and he'll be over in Tampa, and even if he can get a permit, gets his license as quickly as possible, it's still not the same thing as the five of them together, all the time.

It's their last night in Europe, so when Brian looks up at him, grinning, his hair still a little damp from the pool, Nick leans over and kisses him.

Brian pushes on his chest, just a little, and pulls away. His face is kind, but he pulls away, and Nick's stomach sinks. He should've known better, he shouldn't've. Brian's gonna. and. and. "Nick. Nick, don't cry."

"'M not," he says.

"I can't," Brian says. "I would, Frack, you know I would, but I'm not--"

"Yeah," Nick says. "Whatever."

"Frack--"

"Don't, okay? Don't call me that, don't do this, whatever, I don't. I don't need your pity, okay?"

Brian reaches for him, but Nick jerks away from his hand.

"Don't," he says, shouts really, just a little.

A lot.

Brian bites his lip, and Nick's eyes are drawn to it, to his teeth and the red, chapped -- he yanks his eyes back to the spot on the wall, behind Brian's head. It's fascinating.

"Okay," Brian says. "I, um. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything --" Nick snorts -- "so, um. I guess. I can sleep in the other room?"

He wants Nick to say it's okay, to say he can stay here, Nick can tell, but it's not okay, it's not. He feels like his heart has been ripped out, stomped on, torn into little bloody pieces, and it's really not okay at all.

It's their last night in Europe, and he cries himself to sleep, with AJ pretending not to hear him in the other bed.

* * *

He goes to Howie's a lot.

Howie's family is always around, and they're warm, and comforting, and sweet, and don't make him want to pound his fist into the wall. Or someone's face.

A big part of that is Howie, of course. Howie may be, like, the most anal-retentive person on the planet when it comes to being neat, but he lets Nick curl up next to him on a couch and snuggle, or grab him and spin him around and make him laugh -- Howie has a great laugh -- or practice driving, when even AJ won't get in a car with him. He talks to Nick like an equal, like an adult, too.

Of course, that's when he smacks Nick upside the head, calls him an ass, and locks him in a closet at the studio with Brian.

Nick is not unaware of the irony of being locked in a closet -- it's really the first time he thinks he understands the phrase irony, but boy does he get it now.

It's not that he doesn't like Brian, he just, well, likes Brian. A lot.

"I miss my best friend," Brian says softly. It's hard to make out his features, because there's only one bulb and it's, like, 40 watts or something. Nick leans over and kisses him, again, and he doesn't need a halogen to see the look in Brian's eyes.

He kicks and pounds at the door until Kevin unlocks it.

"You can't keep doing this," he says, after Brian's gone home. "It's hurting him."

"I doubt it," Nick says, even though he knows it's probably true. The thing is, though, even if Brian *is* hurt, it's not like Nick, his whole world hasn't come crashing down around him, he still laughs and plays basketball and shit, and why should Nick have to suck it up and hang out with him like nothing's changed when it's all different? Frack isn't supposed to worry about whether or not Frick loves him.

"I know you're upset," Kevin says. "I know you're hurting too, but Nick. Nick, if you really love him--"

"Of course I really love him! This isn't some stupid *crush*, okay, I--"

"If you really love him," Kevin says, "you have to do what's right for him. You have to be his friend, and let him love you the way he can."

"Don't tell me what to do," Nick says. "I'm not a kid." He pouts, which just a year or two ago would've totally won Kevin over to his side, if not the entire world, but now Kevin scowls.

"Then don't act like one."

"I'm *not*!"

"You're being a brat," Kevin says, and that's it, Nick's taken all he's going to. He's been rejected by the man his world revolves around -- twice -- he's been locked in a closet by one of his brothers, lectured by another, he doesn't need this crap. He hurls himself at Kevin, arms swinging, and it's lucky for Kevin that he gets Nick in a headlock, because this time, this time it's all coming back to him, what he learned about fighting, about hitting, and he exhausts himself pounding at Kevin's chest.

After, when Nick's arms feel to heavy to move, he lies on the studio floor next to Kevin, panting, and starts too feel maybe a little bad. Maybe an adult wouldn't go around punching his brothers to make them treat him like an adult. Maybe.

"You okay?"

"Sore," Kevin says. "You've got a good right hook."

Nick grins, because that is *so* not his fault. "You taught me that," he says, and a smile flickers across Kevin's face as well.

"I know." He stands, and he's tall again, like he used to be, when Nick is lying on the ground looking up at him. "Talk to Bri in the morning, Nick. I mean it."

Nick nods, and lets Kevin pull him to his feet. "Kev." He stops, not knowing what he wants to say.

"I've got two older brothers," Kevin says. "Dork."

"Am not!"

Kevin throws an arm around his shoulders and ruffles his hair.

"Are too."

"*Now* who's being a kid?"

"You."

Nick screetches, and chases Kevin all the way to their cars, screaming "am not" at the top of his lungs.

In the morning, he flops on the couch and tips his head onto Brian's shoulder, and that's pretty much that.

* * *

He expected Canada to be basically exactly like America, only with nicer people, but it's not.

Things are different, in ways that they were different in England, where he felt like he was just one step behind everyone else, that he could get it if he picked his legs up and ran a little harder, and it's not just the way they say "eh" and "about".

And his knowledge of German, which, okay, he's not *fluent*, but he's pretty good, for someone who prefers computers, which are just so *cool*, to languages, well. German really doesn't help him in a city that is determined to speak half in an odd not-quite-American English, and half in French.

The French are all snooty and "oh, you hav viz you a leetle boy" and Nick really hates them.

On top of which, he hasn't gotten to see a single Mountie.

Kevin tells him he needs to stop culturally stereotyping, whatever the fuck that is. All Nick knows is, he wants to see someone in those funky little hats and red uniforms before he leaves the country.

Maybe he and AJ can tie their shoelaces together, like the guards at Buckingham Palace.

Brian says that the Mounties are allowed to move, and that it isn't nice, and he'll only get his ass arrested, only without the ass part.

Nick grins, and says he'll move real fast, then, but when Bri offers to play basketball with him, he does that instead.

It still hurts, sharp in his chest, to be near Brian and not kiss him, not touch him, but it's better than nothing at all.

* * *

The problem with sushi is that it doesn't fill him up.

Nick discovers this their first night in Japan, when he and AJ, having been told in no uncertain terms that they are *not* allowed to go to McDonald's, split a sushi boat at the hotel restaurant.

He could've eaten the whole thing himself and *still* not been full.

He's still growing, shooting up like a weed, and eating nearly all the time, hunger gnawing constantly at his stomach. He doesn't even think about it after awhile, just eats when food is there, sushi, sashimi, McDonald's, junk food.

Anything that's in front of him, he scarfs it down, and when the guys shake their heads and mumble about teenagers and food, he punches them in the shoulder and keeps on eating.

* * *

They release We've Got It Going On -- again -- in the U.K., and make it all the way up to number 3.

They've cracked the code.

Number three in England, and an album in the can, as Johnny says, and somehow they're performing even more than before.

When he's not on stage, or asleep, Nick stuffs himself with food and pretends he doesn't see the way sweat drips down Brian's face, making his skin shine like sand in the desert.

It's only a mirage -- or it is for him, anyway. He reaches out to touch a lover, and finds a friend instead.

At least the food is real.

* * *

European TV is behind on a lot of American shows. Nick only just learns that The Mickey Mouse Club was cancelled.

He calls his mom, tells her, and she finally admits that okay, so maybe doing Backstreet was better, because even though he's spent the past few years working to get someplace, instead of already being there, he's reaching his dream right now, and the Mouseketeers have already had theirs slip away.

He thinks some of them will go places, be people to know, but he doesn't tell his mom that.

He pictures them, at night, after a long day, or a bad concert, or an afternoon pressing chocolate to his lips instead of Brian. He pictures them at home, regular people again, trying to go to high school, date, get into college.

He wonders if they keep in touch with each other, if they root for each other, pull each other along. If one of them gets a contract, will the others be happy, or be pissed that someone else got there first?

"Happy," Howie says. He throws an arm over Nick's shoulder, tugs him closer, and says, "some things, some things don't change, Nick. Family. Family is family, and you're stuck with them. You're stuck with us."

Something inside him eases a little, and he thinks he'll never want to be anywhere else.

"You mean *we're* stuck with *Nick*," AJ says, and Nick tackles him.

He's bigger, stronger. He straddles AJ, tickling mercilessly, making up for all the times AJ tickled him, when he was just a kid. "You know you love me," he says, fingers flying over AJ's ribs. "Tell me you love me."

AJ's laughing too hard to say anything intelligable, but Nick thinks he hears a "duh" among the giggles, and lets AJ go with a wet smack on the cheek.

"Love you too," he says. "Dork."

* * *

It says something about the craziness of his life that going back to Europe feels like home. The U.K., especially, where he can hear English on every street corner, and words like "kippers", and "fish and chips" roll over him, welcome him back.

They won't be home for Thanksgiving, and Nick feels something like relief. No Thanksgiving at home means no home, means no mother poking at his face, no BJ throwing him nasty looks and calling him an asshole when their parents aren't around. No Leslie avoiding him, no Aaron crowing about how he's gonna be every bit as famous as Nick, be just exactly like him. He loves them, he does, but it's easier with the guys, even if they do ruffle his hair and call him baby when he's nearly seventeen.

He misses his dad, but it's a constant ache that he's relegated to the back of his mind, and only takes out to examine when they've talked on the phone and he finds himself alone again.

None of them can cook, not well, not even Howie, and there are no moms along.

They save their pocket money for a month, all November, and going stir-crazy in each other's rooms is worth it when they sit down at a nice restaurant to steak and Yorkshire Pudding.

Nick doesn't even care that pudding is apparently bread; he's just happy to be here, in England, with his brothers. He scrunches down in his over-sized sweater, wool scratching at his skin, and thinks that if they were in the States, AJ'd have his mom and grandparents, Howie his entire family. Brian and Kev would have each other, and more uncles and aunts and cousins than anyone has a right to, and Nick. He'd be stuck in Tampa with people who don't know him anymore, and a baby brother who wants to be just like him anyway.

He watches Brian, talking to Kevin about his mom. Kevin runs a hand down his back, and even though they're cousins, even though there's nothing there except the kind of love the five of them share anyway, Nick can't help but stare at that hand, the broad, stroking thumb and long fingers, at the pale expanse of Brian's neck, and he knows who he wants to be like.

He eats his potato instead.

* * *

They win their first award. MTV Europe, Best Group, and none of them manage to keep their cool on stage. They shout names over each other, jump up and down, clap each other on the back. Nick calls Lou "Big Master P", which he sincerely hopes no one remembers and everyone keeps him from ever doing again in his entire life, because while Lou is cool and all, making his dreams come true, he just doesn't want to go there.

Instead, he slings an arm over Howie's shoulder, and grins for the camera, and makes sure to thank his mom, and dad, and God, and says hi to his little brother and sisters back home in Tampa.

* * *

Kevin hands him a shot glass. "You sure about this, Nicky?"

"I'm sure. We're celebrating."

"We're getting *trashed*," Howie says, and smooches Nick's cheek.

"You've been trashed since the limo ride," AJ says. "I told you to leave the scotch alone."

"But, dude. We won!"

"We did," Brian says. He holds up his glass. "To winning!"

"To winning," they say, and salt, tequila, lime, *shit*. Nick coughs for what feels like half an hour, although AJ tells him it wasn't even 45 seconds.

"Fill me up," Nick says, pressing his glass on Kevin again.

AJ hoots and slaps him on the back, which doesn't help. "Atta boy," he says, and Nick grins.

"Nick," Kevin says, but he fills the shotglass anyway.

"We kicked ass," Nick says.

"To ass-kicking!" AJ shouts, and they all laugh.

"To ass-kicking!"

* * *

Kevin practically carries Nick back to their room, which is very nice of him, except that Nick wants to walk.

"It all goes spinny," he says, "wheee! and whooo! and it's not as spinny if I'm not standing."

"I know," Kevin says. "The spinning isn't good for you." He presses a hand to Nick's stomach, holding him up with the wall, and tries to unlock the door.

"Kevin," Nick says.

"Just a minute, Nicky."

The door opens, and whoa, horizontal again, and then he's in bed, and Kevin's tugging his shoes off.

"Kevin."

"Are you going to throw up?"

"No."

"Then wait a minute." Kevin disappears, which isn't very nice of him at all, because he's carrying Nick, isn't he, and what if Nick doesn't *want* to disappear but then, oh, Kevin's back, and hey, he's carrying something.

"More tequila?" Nick says, reaching for the glass.

"Yes, Nick," Kevin says, smiling softly. "Drink it all."

Nick drains the glass obediently. "I think," he says, "tequila really gets easier to take once you've hard some."

"Mmhm," Kevin says, and unbuttons Nick's dress shirt.

"I think I've built a tol. Tol. I can take it," Nick says.

"I'll get you some more," Kevin says, tucking the blankets up around Nick's waist.

"You're a good older brother," Nick says. Kevin pauses, sits back down. "You take good care of me." He leans forward, holding onto Kevin to stay upright. "Thank you," he says, and kisses Kevin softly, a brief press of chapped lips and artificial strawberries. "Love you." He snuggles back under the covers, half asleep by the time Kevin leans down, a long moment later, and brushes his hair off his forehead.

"You're welcome," he says. "I love you too."

* * *

"Do you want to sing?" Nick asks.

Aaron looks up at him, big blue eyes and blond hair and everyone says he looks just like Nick, like a mirror from years ago, but he's *Aaron*, he's his own person, personality, couldn't possibly be anything else.

"Yes," Aaron says.

"You like it," Nick says. "Not the being like me, the singing. Performing."

"Yes." Aaron smiles that thousand-watt grin, the one that makes the girls scream "Nicky! Nick! Nick!" in a thousand different accents.

"Okay," Nick says. "Let's talk to Mom."

Suddenly his arms are full of a squeaming, squealing boy. "I have to go tell Angel," Aaron says, pulling away. He's bouncing. "You're the best older brother *ever*," he says.

He's wrong, but Nick isn't about to disagree.

* * *

Nick likes Quit Playing Games. It's a good song, as far as ballads go, anyway. It's a Backstreet song, and he thought. He thought they'd gotten there, gotten famous, made it in Europe, but apparently a two month vacation is two months too long, because they only reach 15 in England.

"Nick," Howie says. "We're playing 37 cities. We're gonna be better than 15 in most of them."

"Yeah," Nick says, "but in England they don't speak German. Or Swedish. Or Japanese. Or--"

"Would you quit with the whining already?" AJ says. "We'll fucking get there."

Ever since his 19th birthday, AJ's been an ass.

Howie says he's trying to prove his maturity by pushing away anything that could appear childish.

Kevin says that, yes, on occasion things that appear childish include Nick.

Brian says Kevin and Howie are asses, too.

"We *were* there," Nick says.

"Right now," Kevin says, "the place I am? Is on the phone. Quiet down or scoot."

"We'll get there again," Brian says, and smiles down at him. Nick is lying on the couch, his feet in Howie's lap and his head in Brian's, and the smile would look really sweet, would make his stomach flop like it always does, he's positive, except that from this angle, he can see right up Brian's nose, and it kind of ruins the effect.

"It still bites," Nick says.

"What do you care?" AJ smirks. "You're still not legal in England."

Nick flips him off.

"Fuck you too, Carter."

"Fuck both of you," Kevin says. "I'm trying to have a long distance conversation with my girlfriend, so if this isn't your room, and that means all of you but Howie, out. *Now.*"

Brian pouts. "What did I--"

"*Out.*"

"What crawled up *his* butt and died?" AJ mutters as Kevin slams the door behind them.

"A turtle?" Brian says.

"Dude!" Nick smacks him. "First of all, gross, and second of all, it was a turtle last time."

"So what do you think it is?"

"I dunno. At *least* a dog or something."

"You're both wrong," AJ says, fishing a keycard out of his pocket. "It's *gotta* be, like, a fucking *horse*."

"Turtles get pretty big," Brian says.

AJ snorts.

"They do! The tortoises, in the Galapagos? They get huge."

"Not as big as horses," AJ says. "Anybody hungry?"

"We're talking about horses crawling up Kevin's asshole and dying," Nick says. "Just gimme some chips."

"Bri?"

"Call it a manatee, and I'll spring for pizza."

"Manatee it is!"

"If it gets much bigger," Nick says, "we're gonna run out of animals."

"Don't worry," AJ says. "Nothing's as big as your head."

* * *

Unlike Quit Playing Games, As Long As You Love Me sucks. For one thing, it's boring. Also, the video's stupid.

Also, there's a girl on the set that Brian really likes.

It would be easy if he could just hate her on principle, really despise her, send glares her way at every opportunity and accuse her of stealing Brian.

But Brian wasn't his to begin with, not the way he wanted, and Leighanne, it turns out, is really nice.

At least, she always smiles at him, asks how he's doing, tells Brian he's sweet.

Brian, though.

He sends Nick dark looks, looks that mean go away, I'm on a date, and roughhouses roughly, and when Leighanne isn't around he moons all over the place and calls her on the phone and waxes poetic and at least Nick never wrote crappy poetry to Brian.

If girls make people act like that, he's glad he's never gonna want one.

"We're number four in England," AJ says. "You should cheer up."

"Fuck you."

"She's not gonna last."

Nick looks up hopefully from his sketchbook, where he's been drawing pictures of stabbed hearts dripping blood all over Brian's hands. "You think?"

"Sure," AJ says. "She's blonde, Southern, and has a decent rack. What could Brian possibly like?"

"Fuck you," Nick says, and goes back to adding little bits of gore to the tops of Brian's shoes.

"Yeah," AJ says. "You wanna get drunk, or what?"

"What?"

"You've been dumped. Sort of. In the grand tradition of rejected men everywhere, it's now your duty to get absolutely smashed off your gourd."

"Kevin wouldn't--"

"Suck-up."

"I am not," Nick says. He almost gives Brian devil horns, but that's a little over the edge. "I just had plans already."

"Plans."

"A quart of ice cream and movies."

AJ coughs into his hand, "girl."

"Hey! I'll have you know the movies are, um." He leans over, picking up the hotel tv schedule. "Okay. Let's get drunk."

"If bourbon can't cheer you up," AJ says, "nothing will."

* * *

They're making an album for home.

They're not going there yet, of course -- making the album being interspersed with touring Europe -- but the promise remains.

Johnny says, if things take off well in the States, maybe they can tour.

Nick's been working for 5 years now, with the Boys, and it doesn't seem like things ever take off well, except for Aaron, of course, who sang in one show -- *one* -- and got a record contract.

Nick isn't jealous. The guys were worried about that, at least, Kevin, Howie, and Brian were, but then, they're younger brothers themselves. Mostly, Nick is proud.

The thing is, even with a record contract, Aaron's just gonna get started in Europe, and Nick is just gonna get started at home.

Home.

Home, for months, for the summer, maybe longer.

He thinks he should be more excited about it, but it's gonna be weird, mostly. Three months at home, with his family, his real family. Three months of feeling out of place, out of phase. He wonders sometimes if Angel even remembers what it's like to have an older brother.

He thinks he should care more, but there are so many of them at home, all fighting for his dad and his mom, no equilibrium, no equality, like on the road, and Nick is used to getting more attention.

He's maybe a little jealous.

* * *

Johnny, Donna and Lou have a new boyband.

To be exact, they've had one for a year or two -- it's just taken them this long to share with the Boys, because the other group has been working in the States.

Johnny says there's more than enough room for two of them, and maybe that's true, but it leaves a bitter taste in Nick's mouth. Not that he blames the guys, hell, if he had the opportunity, he'd take it, and they could be perfectly nice. But Lou and Johnny have put them through all this work, and they're only just back in the States, possibly touring in late August or early September, only just, and Nick thinks of Lou's fat hand on his shoulder, welcoming him to the group, of long bus rides from school gym to school gym, of Kevin pinching his chin somewhere north of Tallahassee. He thinks of rain, and snow, and cold winter nights huddled together in Germany, of working with vocal coaches and dance coaches and record executives, of see-sawing respect in England, and the slow climb to dizzying fame in Europe. He thinks of his brother opening for them, scoring a deal after one concert, one crowd screaming for Nick's little brother, and they're only just back in the States, and Lou's found another band.

He hopes they're nice, so he doesn't have to hate them, too.

* * *

Quit Playing Games hits number two in the States, and Nick doesn't have time to waste on hating anyone.

Number two, number fucking *two*, and they all go out to celebrate, but they're not in Europe and even AJ can't swing getting served.

Lou is throwing money at them like a benevolent god, and as much as Nick thinks *nsync every time he looks at Lou, he's not gonna turn down free cash. And Johnny is talking tour dates, real American tour dates, maybe not a lot of dates, but even so.

"It's time to pick up the pace," Donna says, and Nick wants to snort, because what the fuck have they been doing for the past five years, anyway? "You don't want to lose momentum," she says.

Number two for Quit Playing, the album is selling like hotcakes, Everybody climbs up the European charts, and Nick is on top of the world.

Eight tour dates in the US, Johnny says, then back to Europe and Asia, a world-tour, 60 cities, 20 countries, nearly a year, ending back in the States again, hopefully on an upswing.

A chance to shine at home, to be a star for his family, and then a year away, with his brothers, and an audience he doesn't have to win over.

20 countries, maybe not America, but 20 countries that want him badly, want them all, and America does too, a little bit.

He wonders when Aaron will be able to say that, Aaron and his mother and Lou.

He loves them, he does -- at least, he loves his mom and Aaron, Aaron especially, but he wishes people would stop calling Aaron a younger him. Aaron wants to be like him, he knows, just like him, but he wonders, sometimes, if Aaron could stop being a better Nick than Nick is, and just be himself.

He wonders who he is, and thinks, 60 cities, 20 countries, eight tour dates in America. Thinks, number 69, number ten, number 14, number three, number 12, number eight, number 15, number four, number two, climbing, climbing steadily. Kevin, Howie, Brian, AJ, Backstreet, climbing, 60 cities, 20 countries, AJ, Brian, Howie, Kev. Kaos, he thinks, Frack.

He performs, and smiles, and tries not to think, and holds onto it all.

Eight tour dates in America, he thinks, and sings his heart out on stage.

* * *

They're nice. *Nsync. They're nice, and funny, and fun, and they hang out a little, for, like, a week, in September. Charity stuff, and basketball, and Nick gets dumped at the hotel while the older guys go clubbing.

He could've gone, could've joined them, but Justin's mom insists he stay, and Howie tells Nick to be nice, to keep him company.

Nick isn't as nice as Howie, no one is, but Justin has red, red lips, blue eyes, and curls that Nick can tangle his fingers in, leverage himself, tug Justin closer, and he doesn't mind staying behind as much as he ought to.

It's nice, he thinks, boys.

He licks at Justin's mouth, because when Justin's lips part and Nick slips inside, it's warm and wet and welcoming.

"Nick," Justin whimpers, grinds against his thigh a little desperately, and Nick tugs his cock free, falls to his knees.

He doesn't know what he's doing, quite, but Justin's only 16, and he's moaning and shivering and if Nick didn't have him pinned to the wall, he wouldn't be able to sing in the morning, because Justin's hips are shaking under his palm.

Oh, he thinks, when Justin comes. Oh. Okay. And then he doesn't think at all, because Justin's wriggling down to the floor, bending over him, and he's no better at blowjobs than Nick was, but Nick is only 17, and Justin's mouth does more than kiss him.

"Oh," he says, and Justin hums.

* * *

He tries writing Justin, keeping in touch, but even with a copy of their itinerary, it's hard for J to find him, and the letters always seem to take so long to come. It's hardly even a surprise when the phone rings one night, and Justin says, "I just. I didn't want to say it on paper."

It was only a blowjob. A blowjob, some jerking off, and an awful lot of kissing, and Nick wasn't in love, so.

He spends a couple of weeks in a deep funk anyway, spitting at the guys and throwing punches when anyone bugs him, and tries not to feel hurt when he overhears Howie, "I thought he'd gotten past the hitting phase."

He gets back to his room in Vancouver one night, and he's supposed to be sharing with Brian, but Kevin follows him inside instead.

"What's going on?" he says, and Nick shrugs. "Nickolas."

"You're not my father."

"I know that," Kevin says.

"Then stop fucking acting like it."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "You're being a brat again," he says.

Nick scowls.

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but we can't help you fix it if you don't tell us the problem. We can't even sympathize with you, not when you're swinging away like crazy. So either cut the crap or -- no, you know what?" Kevin stands up. "Just cut the crap," he says, and starts to walk away.

"Justin dumped me," Nick says. He's staring at his hands, so he can't see the look in Kevin's eyes when he tells him he's a loser. "Too hard to." He swallows.

"Oh, Nicky."

"No, it's fine." He pushes his fingers against his eyes. "I just."

"Shhh," Kevin says, hugging him. "Hey, now. It's okay."

"Boys suck," Nick mumbles, pressing his face into Kevin's neck.

"*Nsync sucks," Kevin says. "The Boys rock."

It's lame, and stupid, and not even funny, but Nick laughs anyway. And then he's crying, but it's okay, because Kevin's got him, and even though he spent a week out clubbing with *nsync while Nick got left behind, it doesn't matter now.

"Backstreet rocks," he says, and Kevin grins, wipes his thumbs gently under Nick's eyes.

"Fucking A," he says.

* * *

They make a pitstop, reschedule concerts, to raise money for Orlando, for tornado relief. When they start going again, flying out late to Ireland, the flu sweeps through the tour. It's always like that -- they go non-stop, and the instant there's a break, someone gets sick, and it's all downhill from there. The flu is the worst, because no one can work with it, not roadies, not bandmembers, not singers.

It's not too bad, though, at least, Nick is up and bouncing around after a week and a half, but somehow Brian never seems to quite catch up again.

There are long phone calls home, when Nick is supposed to be sleeping, whispered arguments with Kevin that stop when someone else enters the room.

Nick gets a word here or there, heart, defect, operation.

They all start snapping at each other, growing tense, and it doesn't help when Brian flies home to see his doctor.

He's paler than ever when he gets back, and it's a relief for Nick to finish the tour, at least for the moment, to leave Portugal behind in April and fly home.

Brian'll get better with some rest.

He's sure of it.

* * *

Nick shifts in his plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. The doctors told them it would be hours, and tried to nudge them out the door, but Nick's damned if he's leaving Brian alone under the knife.

Kevin slides an arm around Nick's neck, and pulls Nick into his lap. He's really too big for it, but curled up against Kevin's chest he doesn't feel it.

He feels small, and helpless, stupid.

If Brian dies, he'll never forgive him.

Kevin is pretty upset himself -- he's probably thinking about his father. Even though Brian's his cousin, Nick figures he'll be hurt more than Kevin, if. But still, Kevin loves Bri, and him, and he loves Kevin back, because they're all pretty inseperable these days, living on top of each other. And in the past six years, he guesses he's learned how to be an okay younger brother, because he burrows closer, and lets Kevin soothe him.

He doesn't really feel *better*, but it helps.

A doctor comes out and tells them the surgery's over, and Nick bursts into tears.

Kevin rubs his back and holds him close and whispers that it's over, it's fine, Brian's fine, and Nick swipes at his eyes, runs the back of his arm across his nose, and can't stop crying anyway.

Brian's fine.

* * *

Kevin and Howie are talking lawsuits, separation from Lou, and Johnny and Donna.

The first, Nick gets. Lou's the one who pressed for Brian to get back on tour with them, Lou's the one who found *nsync, who signed Aaron. Every time Nick thinks of Lou's fat arm around Aaron's shoulder, handing him a contract, he starts to shake.

But Johnny and Donna just managed them. The past 6 years have been hard, of course, and Johnny and Donna pushed them, but that's what it's about, right? That's how they get to the top, get the number one album in America. It works.

"We need a clean break," Kevin says. "Besides, how do we know they're thinking in our best interests, and not *nsync's?"

Ever since Vancouver, Kevin has hated *nsync, and he's not afraid to say so on national television. Nick still thinks they're good guys, mostly, but Kevin says he's idolized his relationship, and something in his eyes flashes.

"Let me hate them for you," he says. "It's my job."

If someone dumped one of his sisters, Nick would hunt them down and beat them, so he shrugs and keeps his tongue in check when Kevin calls his first boyfriend a copy-cat and wanna-be.

Howie's thinking of Brian and of the cash Lou says they haven't earned. Kevin's thinking of Brian, the cash, and Nick. AJ is willing to go along, and Brian's too tired to veto. It's not like he *wants* Lou to get his money, or have control over their identity, and some day, should Aaron want to get away, it'll set a good precedent (Nick's been watching legal thrillers) for him in court. There're only 5 Backstreet Boys, not 6, and Lou is never gonna be one of them, never again, so Nick shrugs his shoulders and signs on the dotted line.

* * *

When word gets out, the European press goes crazy.

Everyone is talking about an imminent break-up, and if he weren't living with the guys 24/7, Nick would be worried himself.

"Don't be stupid," Howie says, and that can only sound sweet coming from Howie, but somehow he pulls it off. Nick grins, and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"We can't all have your brains," he says. "Nintendo?"

* * *

Caroline dies, Howie's sister, and they knew it was coming but Nick is still shocked. The last time he saw her, she was alive, smiling, cracking jokes with her family, and now.

He doesn't even care that they won a VMA, that they have an actual award in the States, because Howie is hurting, and he doesn't know what to do.

He didn't make it in time to say good-bye.

"You'll think of something," he says, "in her memory." It's lame, he can't speak when he's hurting, so he hugs Howie tight, thinks of curling up in Kevin's lap while Brian lay cold on a table, and rubs a hand down Howie's back.

"We've got you," he says, and Howie nods his head.

* * *

It all happens so quickly, it makes Nick's head spin -- Lou is out, The Firm is in, and they're recording a third album, with their second one gone diamond.

A few months at home, although now that he's 19, home is his own, and if it's quieter without four siblings around, in some ways it's easier too.

A few months, it feels like less, because suddenly being in the States is exciting and good and the girls are screaming his name like he's still in Europe, and Millenium goes platinum in seven days.

Seven. Days.

A little over six years of constant work and struggle, and in seven days he can't go grocery shopping without getting mobbed by girls. He wonders if he'd mind so much if they were boys, instead, but smiles away and signs cds until his hand cramps.

"Told you we'd get here," Kevin says, and Nick grins, shakes his hand out, and keeps on signing.

* * *

He needs a beard. A girl to show the world he's straight. Preferably, according to The Firm, someone also in the business, someone who can smile for the camera, who can interview well, and who'll want to not date Nick Carter.

He needs a beard, and that's fine with him, because the last thing he wants is to ruin their careers by accidentally outing himself. He's not gonna stop the occasional one-night stands, the hurried blowjobs in dark corners or sterile bathrooms, the kisses heavy with alcohol and urgent, pawing hands, but it's not like he can date anyone anyway, not for real, not a guy. The closest he can come to that is hanging off of Howie, and unless Howie stops like breasts sometime soon, that isn't going to lead anywhere.

And the thing about Mandy is, sometimes they treat each other like shit, sure, but she understands. Nick's met her mother, and she's met his, and if the guys don't like her it's just on principle. She needs him, if only to talk at night, lying side by side in bed, not touching.

He likes being needed. Justin never did it, not really, and Brian only needs a brother, a friend.

Mandy needs him.

It's not as big a step as he thought it would be, when they're drunk and bonding and his mother has written a fucking tell-all book about him, it's not so very big a step, after all, to suddenly go from kissing Mandy's cheek to kissing Mandy's lips.

"Let me," she says, "let me," and if it's a little plastic, the feel of a lipstick-lined mouth on his skin, it's sliding down his stomach just the same, covering him, and inside is velvet heat like any boy's, sucking and pulling and ripping his thoughts from him all at once, and "let me," she says, and Nick closes his eyes and does.

It's not so big a step to flip her over, to stroke her after, and if her skin is soft instead of muscular, what's the difference? He's seen enough porn with the guys to know the mechanics, and in the end when she's panting and writhing beneath him, her voice is just as awed, crying his name, as Justin's ever was.

It's not that he'd look at her and think attractive, think I want that, but she's there already, and she's his, and it's better than being alone.

He can do this for her, and it's not that big a step at all, as long as he isn't looking for love.

* * *

Howie walks in on them.

Nick will probably never forget the day in his life, because Kevin is declared People's Sexiest Pop Star, Millenium goes nine times platinum, and Howie sees him having sex.

With a girl.

He keeps the room dark, with Mandy. Lights off, sheet on, because even though sex is too hot, too sweaty and messy for under a sheet, it's easier, that way. Covered.

He keeps the room dark, and a sheet on, but when Howie calls his name and throws the door open, the light from the hallway falls directly on the bed, on Nick, arms shaking, head bowed. On Mandy, fingers sifting through Nick's hair, small needy sounds pouring from her throat.

Nick freezes, can't turn his head, can't look at Howie, doesn't even see the door close, just that the light is gone.

"Nick," Mandy says, "please. Nick," and that's all he has to hear, because that's why he does it, for her, and if he's gonna sleep with -- no, fuck -- a girl, at least she should get off on it.

He closes his eyes, thinks of harder, more compact frames and twisting flashes of muscle, of legs sliding over his shoulders, not his waist, and lower voices murmuring in his ear.

It always surprises him, when he manages to lose himself in her.

* * *

The four of them ambush him before the show.

They sit him on a couch, and pace back and forth. At least, Kevin and Brian pace. Howie is in a chair, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes, muttering "didn't see it, didn't see it, didn't happen, didn't see it" over and over again. AJ rolls his eyes, points to the Kentucky cousins (who cross back and forth, meeting in front of Nick, shaking their heads at each other, and continuing until they each reach a wall and turn around again) and mouths "their idea."

Nick rolls his eyes back. "It's only a girl," he says.

"Nick," Brian says. He crouches in front of the couch, a hand on Nick's knee. "Nick," he says. "You're not *straight*."

"I'm just saying, it's not that bad."

"Not that--" Kevin spins around and glares. "Look," he says accusingly, "at what you did to Howie."

"He should've knock--"

"You shouldn't have been fucking a girl in the first place!" Kevin shouts. His voice cracks on the world girl, and AJ has to turn a giggle into a cough.

Nick blinks. "So Howie'd be okay if I was fucking a boy?"

"Of course he'd be okay!" Kevin says. Brian gives up on holding Nick's hand and looking at him with wide, puppy dog eyes, and tries to soothe his cousin.

"Usually people have this reaction," Nick tells AJ, "when they walk in on someone being gay."

"You're not gonna be happy," AJ says, "pretending she can give you everything you need."

"*She* needs *me*," Nick says.

AJ nods. "I got that. But our job? Our job is you, not her." He jerks his head at Kevin. "He just wants you to be happy. Also," he says, stretching, "stop traumatizing Howie."

"It's my life," Nick says. He stands, walks to the door. "I'll fuck whoever the fuck I want to," he tells them. "If you don't like it, learn to knock."

* * *

No one likes Mandy after that. They didn't like her before, but now they really, really don't. Kevin won't even be in the same room as her, if he can help it. His mother, also, thinks Mandy's interfering, that she has too much influence over his life. But then, his mother still wants him to steal Britney Spears away from Justin. Nick doesn't tell her he'd rather steal Justin back. On top of that, the fans are sending hate mail, and threatening to kill her.

It only makes Nick pull her closer. Makes Mandy need him more.

* * *

Nick turns twenty, and Brian and Kev get engaged.

He's too old to pout, to feel left behind or unloved or like he's losing them, because he knows, he does, they're not going anywhere. The family's getting bigger, but that doesn't mean there won't still be room for Nick.

Nick spends a lot of time taking advantage of their new deal with Burger King. It's not as good as McDonald's, but it'll do.

Only then the fans get on him about his weight, management gets on him to diet, and he generally feels like shit.

He tries to break up with Mandy on the grounds that at least a majority of people in his life will like that move, but The Firm tells him if he's going to be fat, he at least needs to keep being straight.

He wants to tell them he's not, he's not even bi, and he's not fat, just a little chunky, just filling out his frame, but there's no one at the meeting to back him up, so he shuts his mouth and goes home to fuck his girlfriend in the dark.

* * *

They go to the Bahamas for ten days, to write for the next album.

The first time they're supposed to meet at the beach, Nick changes last.

He watches them, Howie who's small and compact. AJ with wiry, sculpted muscles. Brian, his shoulders bronzing in the sun. Kevin, who still looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine, modelling the latest swimwear by Calvin Klein.

It's all he can do not to turn around, throw on a t-shirt at least, a pair of longer shorts.

He's not *fat* -- he knows that, he isn't stupid or a 13-year-old girl or anything. Angel's been having body issues lately, and Nick knows, neither of them is fat.

But he isn't skinnier than Kevin, either. He could stand to lose a pound or two. Or ten.

He's tired of the candid pictures that show up on the web, the teen-aged girls gossiping about how he's fat, ugly, stupid. Aaron and Justin are selling like hotcakes, but Nick. Nick, who was there first, who did the hard work, paved the way.

"Nick!" Kevin calls, waving, and it's too late to turn around.

Seven years, and nothing takes off well.

* * *

Mandy doesn't come to Kevin's wedding, on general principle.

"Why should I wish him happiness," she says, "when he doesn't want it for me?"

He wants Mandy to be happy, of course -- or at least, he doesn't actively want her unhappy. He just doesn't want her happy with *Nick*.

In any event, she doesn't go, so Nick spends the reception hanging out with AJ, who's also on the rocks with his girlfriend.

"Man," AJ says, leaning against Nick after Kristin has left to change, and they're waiting by the door with rose petals (Kevin wouldn't let them throw rice in case it got eaten by birds). "Man," he says, "I am *so* trashed right now."

"That's what you get when you drink a bottle of champagne by yourself."

"I didn't," AJ says indignantly.

"You had a good five glasses."

"I was toasting Kevin and Kris. I want them to be happy," AJ says. "I want everyone to be happy. Even you."

"Thanks," Nick says.

"No, I mean it. Are you happy, Nicky?"

"Bone," Nick says.

"You should be happy."

"You should be in bed."

"Ooooh." AJ grins. "Are you propositioning me?" he says.

"What?"

"I said," AJ says, and swipes his tongue up Nick's cheek, "do you want to fuck me?"

Before Nick can say something, Kevin is there, with Kristin, and the air is full of petals and shouting, and Nick just hopes their on-again, off-again relationship is finally on for good.

Then the petals settle to the ground, and AJ leans closer and whispers, "Nicky. Put me to bed."

* * *

AJ writhes underneath him, dark and lithe and tight, pale white and swatches of color, of painted skin that Nick yearns to cover with kisses, to memorize.

He's had more than his fair share of liquor as well, and everything comes to him in flashes -- hands on his chest, grunting, fingernails and pleasurepain down his back, the brown of AJ's eyes, the play of light and shadow on his face as Nick looks down at him.

Sweat drips down his arms as he strains over AJ, and he fumbles to wrap a hand around AJ's cock, jerk him off in time with his thrusts, and it's too much, the heat of AJ's body, the spasms as he arches up to meet Nick's fist, muscles clenching around him when AJ screams his name and comes, it's too much, too much, and Nick explodes, sinking into darkness at last.

* * *

He finds himself see-sawing between them, Mandy and AJ. When things are good with Amanda, AJ's gone, and Mandy is still waiting, still needing him.

But when AJ knocks on the door, there's no question in his mind who comes first, and it drives Mandy crazy.

They break up and get together on a weekly basis, nearly, and Nick finds a rhythm in there somewhere, in the flashing cameras, the fat jokes, the kisses with eyes closed and desperate lips, in the soft hands and lavender-scented skin that turns weekly into rougher, surer movements, hitching breaths and growls and twists of tatoos both under and above him, in Mandy's hair, spread out against the pillow, and later, later, he presses his cheek there and pushes his hips, AJ flush against his back, murmuring something against his shoulder that Nick can't hear and doesn't need to.

* * *

Brian's getting married.

Nick can't remember ever being so excited.

Brian -- *his* Brian -- Brian is getting *married*.

Okay, so he's known about the engagement for ages, even before the other guys did, because what's the point of being Frack if you don't get Frick's news first, but still. Somehow, sitting in his tux, seeing Brian's face, and Leigh's, and the flickering candles reflected in gold bands, it's real in a way it never was before.

He swallows a lump in his throat.

His Brian. His best friend in the entire world, better even than Howie and Kevin and AJ, and Brian is quite definitely the only person he can say *that* about. He's happy he *can* say it again. That it's true.

Brian is getting married, and Nick is happy for him, wants him to be happy and in love and loved and everything.

Nick is happy, and Brian links hands with Leighanne, and kisses her gently, and Nick blinks back tears.

AJ snuck in a flask of whiskey, and as Kevin begins his speech he offers Nick a sip.

Nick drains it.

* * *

They sell over 1.6 million CDs in America in their first week, and people call the figures disappointing. 1.6 million in America, and over 5 million abroad, but they didn't break *nsync's record, and apparently that's all that matters.

Nevermind that *nsync doesn't sell overseas, not nearly as well as they do.

Except in Germany, of course.

"They still love us," AJ says, "they do."

Nick wonders who he's trying to convince.

"Of course they do," he says against AJ's skin. "They're ours." He throws an arm over AJ's stomach, and holds him close. "Backstreet forever," he says.

AJ snorts, and shifts around, finally pushing Nick onto his back and tucking his head under Nick's chin. Nick sweeps a hand up and down his spine, glad for once he's big.

"Backstreet forever," AJ murmurs, right before falling asleep.

* * *

He thinks he's in love, really in love, not just infatuated or having sex for the first time. He's pretty positive it's love, and it's almost definite that AJ needs him, so he breaks it off with Mandy.

He doesn't even give a shit when she steals his TV.

"Good luck with your life," he says, and Mandy gives him the finger.

He tells AJ later over a couple of beers, and AJ laughs and says Amanda wasn't even that creative.

That night AJ tastes like smoke and Guiness. Nick fills his mouth, tastes stale liquor, peanuts, and cigarettes, and thinks, Mine.

* * *

When his grandmother dies, AJ shuts down. He goes out every night instead of talking, and when he comes back to bed he smells of whiskey, of bars and clubs and perfume, and Nick doesn't know what to do.

Mine, he thinks, but it doesn't feel true anymore.

They call Denise, Nick and Kevin and Howie and Brian, and then it *isn't* true anymore, AJ won't even look at him, let alone fuck.

He glares at his mom, at the shrink, and hisses "traitor" in Nick's direction, "asshole," and shuts the door in face.

* * *

Denise goes home.

There are five buses, one for each of them, and Nick is sleeping on his for the first time since the tour started, and now Denise is gone and he stays up all night, thinking of AJ alone on the bus, of Jack D, Jim Bean and Johnny, and in the morning he calls his dad and asks how Aaron's doing.

"What about you?" Bob says, and Nick remembers calling him from Europe, Kevin's hand in his, and tells him, "Fine. I'm fine."

* * *

AJ has a girlfriend. Some girl he picked up in a bar, Sarah, found her ages ago, and now they're fucking. Loudly.

Nick turns the volume up on his stereo, glad he loves rock, and pretends the thumping he hears is the beat of the drums.

He thinks he might hate AJ, the way he's being now.

"Family is family, and you're stuck with them," Howie told him, and Nick isn't going anywhere, but he really thinks.

He's hated his mom once or twice, been jealous of Aaron, but never.

He cranks up the sound, and tells himself AJ's just drinking, just drunk.

The brother he knows isn't like that.

* * *

Sarah leaves right before Boston, has to fly home for an appointment or something.

"She'll be back," AJ leers, "so don't get your hopes up."

Nick thinks he's never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life.

* * *

They meet for breakfast, and AJ's absent. Nothing unusual in that -- AJ hasn't made breakfast in a long time, but there's no answer when Kevin knocks on his door.

They try phoning the room, just to make sure he's awake -- they're supposed to throw a pitch at a Little League game -- but the phone rings until the concierge answers downstairs.

He thought he hated AJ, but his heart skips a beat, and he asks Kevin to try again.

"He's just drunk," Howie mutters, but Kevin squeezes Nick's shoulder and continues knocking, shouts until Brian says his name.

"We have to go," he says.

Nick slams his fist against AJ's door as they leave. A sharp bolt of pain shoots up his arm, and he thinks something might've cracked, but when the others jump, stare at him, he tells them it was just frustration.

"*I'm* fine," he says, and glares at AJ's door.

There's nothing, no response, and they have a game to be at, so they leave.

It's weird with just the four of them, even though that's how it's really been for ages now.

* * *

"I need help," AJ says. He's waiting for them when they get back, the door open, AJ on the bed. There's a gun on the bedspread in front of him, and Kevin takes it with shaking fingers.

"I was too drunk last night," AJ says, and stops. "I need help," he says, and Nick starts crying.

* * *

Brian takes him to the hospital.

They have to fight with Nick to get him to go, to leave AJ. He wants to be there, helping AJ pack, and make the arrangements and. Helping AJ.

But his hand has been hurting like a son of a bitch, and AJ kissed him lightly and told him to go.

"I won't leave without saying good-bye," he said. "I promise."

"I won't let him," Howie said. "I'll bar the door. They'll never get past me."

AJ snorted, and Nick grinned and let Brian drag him away, because if nothing else he trusts Kevin and Howie not to let him get hurt.

The x-rays take forever, and Nick gets impatient again, wants to be gone.

"We'll be seeing him off soon enough," Brian says, while they wait, and Nick settles. He slouches in his seat, tips his head onto Brian's shoulder. He hadn't thought of that part, just of seeing AJ again. Being with him.

For the first time, he's seen a glimmer of the old AJ, his friend and brother and ex, and. He misses that. He doesn't want him to leave.

AJ's been gone too much already.

"Definitely broken," the doctor says. He molds a cast, and gives Brian some pain medication Nick refuses to take.

He's gotten used to it by the time they reach the hotel, and it's just another sharp ache in the back of his mind.

"I gotta," AJ says, jerking his head towards the door. He pulls Nick into a rough hug. Nick hugs him back, ignoring the stabbing pain in his arm.

"Love you," he says, and AJ's just his friend and brother now, so he adds, "love you, man," like he were talking to Kevin or Howie.

"Love you too," AJ chokes, and then he's hugging Brian, Howie, Kev, and he's out the door. Nick feels broken all over again.

"Take your meds," Brian murmurs, but Nick shakes his head.

"It's okay for medicine, Nicky," Howie says. "You need it, the doctor said so."

"I don't need it," Nick says, setting his jaw. He doesn't, and he doesn't want it, either.

Kevin bites his lip. "Please, Nick?"

Nick doesn't want to cloud his memory of what the moment feels like, the pride and the sorrow and fear and love and pain, but the three of them, they need someone to take care of, and the part of Nick that's still the eldest sibling knows it'll make them feel better.

He dry swallows the pills and lets Brian tuck him in bed.

* * *

He can't breathe. How Kevin and Brian and Howie could talk through that, he'll never know. It was all Nick could do to swipe at his eyes, and keep from breaking down on national television.

AJ's getting help, that's what he keeps telling himself.

It's alright, because AJ's getting help, asked for help. The accusations, the broken bone, the pain, none of it matters. He'll be able to visit AJ soon, talk to him, see him getting better.

And in the meantime, Howie and Kevin and Brian are right here with him, and he knows the air is as painful in their chests as it is in his.

Brian hugs him tightly, breaking down now that they're not on camera, and the next thing he knows, Howie's crying, and they're in a group hug, arms wrapped around each other, shoulders shaking in unison.

It's not complete, because there's only four instead of five, but it will be, soon enough.

* * *

They all fly out to Arizona, supposedly for a group session although in reality it's more for yelling at AJ than anything else.

Brian goes off for a good ten or fifteen minutes, Howie too, and Nick finds himself talking about loving AJ, about losing him. About wanting him. He talks, and cries, and finds in the end he even feels a little better.

But Kevin. Kevin just sits and stares at the floor, or out the window. Nick remembers the look on Kevin's face when Brian was in surgery, when AJ would come home trashed, or not at all. He remembers hearing Kevin talk about his father, and thinks it isn't any wonder Kevin goes to visit AJ every week.

Kevin doesn't trust people not to die.

* * *

Jamie Foxx is the biggest asshole Nick has ever met in his life.

He seriously wants to pound his face in, except for two things: he's promised Kevin not to go around hitting things after breaking his hand on that door in Boston (and Foxx certainly counts as a "thing", and not as a person), and Brian's already chewing him out.

Instead, Nick throws an arm around AJ's shoulders and points to the crowd.

"They're booing him," he says softly.

"Yeah," AJ says. "Yeah. I know."

"He's an idiot," Kevin says. "We all know that."

"Of course," Howie says, "if you believe that, you're listening to a man who's wearing a skirt."

"It transcends out-moded societal restrictions on gender boundaries," Kevin says huffily.

"It's a skirt," Howie says.

"An ugly one," Nick says.

Kevin calls them both male chauvenist pigs, but it makes AJ laugh, and then Brian's back and they're ready to go.

Later, after the concert, there's a phone call waiting from a representative at MTV.

"We just wanted to apologize," she says, "for Jamie Foxx, and to personally assure you that he won't be hosting an awards show for us again."

"See," Kevin says, "the man in the skirt was right."

"Happens to everybody once," AJ says, and Nick can't help but smile.

* * *

They sing everywhere, anywhere, to raise money, and Nick doesn't care who it's with.

He stands in a room with Justin Timberlake and for the first time since he was 17, he's glad about it.

Justin has a lot of star power these days, more than Nick, and if he's at United, if *nsync is, it can only help.

They shake hands, and when Justin gets him alone, and starts to say he's sorry, Nick brushes him off. He's been waiting four years for an apology, but now. "It doesn't matter," he says, and means it.

Chris wanders over, stares up at him, and says, "Jesus fuck, Carter, when did you get so *tall*?"

"Jealous, little man?"

Chris squawks, leaps on his back, and Nick can't help but giggle a little.

He catches Kevin's eye, and thinks their feud with *nsync is over.

* * *

AJ's getting married.

He should have seen it coming, really. It's not like AJ left Sarah or anything, even though he was drinking when he got together with her in the first place. Even though she isn't Nick.

He's supposed to wait a year, before major changes in relationships, but he says he loved Sarah just as much before, that he went sober because he was dragging her down with him.

Nick nods, and smiles, and shakes his hand. Wishes him luck. Goes out that night and gets smashed.

* * *

He's not moping.

He isn't.

He's not moping, because there's nothing to mope about. His family is healthy and happy -- both of them -- and that's all that matters.

He's not moping, because he has plenty of friends, even if Howie's wrapped up Tabu, AJ's wrapped up in Sarah, Brian's wrapped up in Leighanne, and Kevin's wrapped up in Kristin. Plenty of friends who are willing to go out and have a good time with him, friends who understand that just because you're drinking, it doesn't make you a drunk, doesn't mean you're on the path to, say. Being AJ. Who is now engaged and sober and happier than ever.

He asks for more beer, but the bartender doesn't want to serve him, and after that things become kind of blurry, or maybe they already were, but the last thing Nick wanted to be doing the day after New Years was calling his dad from a police station.

"'M fine," he says, "shut up," and the thing about his dad that's so cool is, he'll let Nick believe that if he wants.

When Nick wakes up in the morning with the mother of all hang-overs and an irate publicist on the phone, the first thing he notices, beyond the pain, is that he's upstairs in his parents' house, in Aaron's room, in pajamas, tucked snugly into bed.

* * *

Jive doesn't like their suggestions, and the guys don't like Nick's attitude, so he starts going into the studio alone and fooling around.

He didn't plan on a solo album or anything, he just wanted to get some stuff out.

He's tired of singing with Backstreet. Not of the group, not of the guys, but that music, the same music, over and over, and constantly touring, and he doesn't want to be on his way down, anywhere.

He wants to be on his way back up.

He's tired, and he thinks if he doesn't do a solo album now, do his kind of music, just once, he might not have it in him to do anything.

When he turned 18 he signed with Jive, a pre-emptive bid on their part in case he ever wanted to go solo, and now they start encouraging him, and he finds himself living in the studio.

The guys want to leave The Firm, find new managers, and it occurs to Nick that he shouldn't sign with them. Not that he wants his career over the Boys, or wants to interfere with theirs, it's just. A conflict of interest.

Ken says he's leaving, when he can get his stuff together. He hasn't told The Firm yet, but he's been looking for an excuse, and Nick Carter is the one he'll hitch his wagon too.

He can't tell the guys that, though, not until Ken's ready to leave, and when The Firm tells them Backstreet can walk, that they could give a shit 'cause they have Nick, and Nick is who Jive's promoting, it nearly kills him.

"It's not like that," he tells Howie, desperate, after AJ and Brian walk out.

"What's it like, Nick?" Kevin says.

"I didn't set out to. I was just fooling around, in the studio and stuff, but the tracks were good, Kev, the songs. It was like, put in guitar, drums, nothing else, just get that rock vibe going, you know, and everything just *flowed*, and then when I realized I really, I could, you know, I could *do* it, I figured having a different manager was good. Isn't it?"

"It's good for you," Howie says, and Nick blinks.

"Well, yeah," he says. "That's the point."

"No." Kevin leans forward. "It's good for *you*, Nick. Not the group."

"Well, but. You said. You all said."

"Yeah," Kevin says. "I'm gonna go home," he says, wincing -- he and Kristin have been fighting again. "Give Brian and Aje a few days, and when they've cooled down we'll figure it out."

"It was flowing," Nick says softly, after Kevin shuts the door. "Nicky," Howie says. Then he squeezes Nick's hand and smiles. "Go flow," he says, follows Kevin out.

* * *

When Nick finally manages to get Brian on the phone, the solo album doesn't come up.

The fact that they haven't talked in nearly three weeks is apparently not important.

"Leigh's pregnant," Brian says, and Nick finds himself grinning uncontrollably.

"Bri!"

"I know," Brian says.

"Daddy B-Rok," Nick says, "or Daddy Rok?"

"Listen, we're not. We're not telling anyone, until. The first trimester is."

"Got it," Nick says. "Daddy."

Brian laughs. "So you like the idea of being Uncle Frack?"

"Yeah," Nick says.

"I'm freaking out, Nick. Half the time I'm thinking "Daddy!" and running around buying feeties and cribs and child-proofing and stuff, and half the time..."

"Half the time?" Nick says.

"Half the time. Half the time," Brian says.

"It's gonna be fine, Frick."

"He could have. He could."

"You have the biggest heart of anyone I know," Nick says. "Besides, look at you. How many operations, and you're still running around, singing, dancing. Losing to me in b-ball."

"Yeah," Brian says. "Okay."

"The baby's gonna be fine," Nick says.

"And hey, I wouldn't want to be touring this summer anyway." There's a pause, then Brian whispers, "knock 'em dead, you hear?"

"I hear," Nick says. "I will."

"I've gotta call Kevin and Howie and J, and take Leigh to the doctor, and buy plugs for all our electric outlets, and--"

"Go."

"Bye, Uncle Frack."

"Bye," Nick says, and smiles. "Daddy Frick."

* * *

AJ calls Nick from LA to tell him that Kevin and Kristin are separated.

He wants to fly out to Kentucky, but he's booked with promotions and performances, and there's never any time.

He's used to having no time for himself, but he's always had time for the guys, and it's weird to be talking to Kevin on a cell as he's driven from interview to interview.

"We just found," Kevin says, "that when it came down to actually living together, we simply couldn't do it." He's lying, but Nick isn't going to press.

"You okay?" he asks instead.

"Yeah," Kevin says. "I'm fine."

"I can cancel--"

"Don't be ridiculous, Nick. You want this."

"If you need me," Nick says.

Kevin is silent for a long moment, long enough that Nick starts to mentally clear his schedule.

"I'm fine," he says, finally. "Besides. My mom's here."

Nick likes Ann Richardson a hell of a lot, but he's seen her when Kevin had the flu, and he thinks right now, that must be times a hundred, at least.

"Call," he says, "if you change your mind."

"Coward," Kevin laughs.

"You know it."

* * *

Howie comes to visit on the set for Help Me.

Nick takes him all over the place, shows him everything, and is ready to start pointing to things like the boom and explaining them when he remembers he's talking to *Howie*.

"You look better," Howie says.

Nick nods. "Still flowing," he tells him.

"Good," Howie says, and smiles.

* * *

When the album drops, everybody calls him. They're all on the phone, the four of them, they set up a five-way conference call, and Nick wants to laugh because they all sound worried.

"You're fucking better than that," AJ says. "Stupid fucking tee--"

"Hey," Nick says. "Stop dissin' my fans."

"It's Jive," Kevin says, and Nick thinks from the hatred in his voice that there'll be another law suit soon. "If they hadn't played up Justin--"

"Hey," Nick says. "Stop dissin' my ex."

"Your *what*?" Brian says.

"You totally knew that."

"I never! When?"

"Germany. The basketball game? Y'all went out after, and J and I were left behind and." AJ starts laughing.

"Shit," he says, "and I thought you'd be bored stiff, man."

"Well," Nick says, "I *was* stiff..."

"You never told me," Brian huffs.

"It was only a week," Nick says.

"A week is a week. You're being demoted."

"Demoted?" Howie says.

"Uncle Frack," Brian says, "is becoming Uncle Nick."

"Hey!"

"You didn't tell me," Brian says.

"I was still pining after your hot body. Not exactly gonna tell the guy who *rejected* me that a 16-year-old didn't want me either."

"Fine," Brian says. "You can stay Uncle Frack."

"You sure you're okay?" Kevin asks, right before the phone call ends.

Nick just laughs. "Starting at the bottom," he says, "means I have someplace to work to."

* * *

Nick doesn't mind leaving Jive. He doesn't. He doesn't give a shit who they record for, as long as they keep recording.

What he minds is the way they do it, that he comes off sounding like an idiot. Like Now or Never was just something he needed to get out of his system, and now that he's come to his senses, he's going back to the group.

"The lawyers," Kevin says. He's flown out to visit, claiming his mother was driving him crazy. "We don't mean it like that," he says.

"I'm gonna keep plugging," Nick says. "There's gonna be another solo album. Not until after the group stuff, but."

"I know," Kevin says.

"Good."

"We're proud of you, you know."

Nick smiles. "Not a brat anymore?" he says.

"Not at all."

"You're just in a good mood 'cause the Wildcats beat Vanderbilt."

"Every win," Kevin says, "is a happy one."

Nick laughs, grins at him. Kevin's lying on his bed, in boxers and a t-shirt, the news on low. His hair is mussed because he was sleeping earlier, while Nick had an interview, fell asleep waiting to surprise him. Nick walked into a hotel room and found Kevin curled into a pillow, under the covers, snoring lightly, and he hasn't stopped smiling since.

* * *

"Frack," Brian says, and Nick groans. It's early in the morning, too early for a phone call, too early to be awake.

"Frack," Brian says, louder, "Frack, he's here."

That gets Nick up. "Baylee?"

"Alive and kicking. Six pounds," Brian says proudly. "Ten fingers, ten toes, and," he says, "his mama's heart."

"Told you," Nick says, "Daddy Frick." He's pulled out his planner and is flipping through dates, writing down what needs to be cancelled.

"Daddy Frick," Brian says, and Nick swears he can hear him bouncing. "That's me!" he says.

Nick giggles. "Go call the others."

"What makes you think I didn't call them first, young man?"

"You're Daddy Frick," Nick says, "and I am Uncle Frack. Of course you didn't call them first."

"Shut up," Brian says.

"Go call them."

"Bye, Uncle Frack," he says, and Nick grins.

"Bye," he says, "Daddy."

* * *

Kevin is there when Nick gets to Atlanta, waiting at the airport.

"He's adorable," Kevin says, and Nick is glad he didn't check anything, glad they can get straight in the rental car and go to the hospital.

Everyone is piled into Leigh's room, her parents and Brian's and Howie and AJ. Nick kisses her cheek, and she smiles, lets him hold his nephew.

"I'm your Uncle Frack," he says, and Baylee waves his fist. "Hi," Nick tells him. "Look at you."

He remembers holding his sisters and Aaron. Not BJ, because he was too young to remember that, but dim, dim memories of Leslie, and better ones of Aaron and Angel, of those little red faces staring up at him, of kissing their faces, and his mother saying, "gently, Nicky, gently," in the background.

Baylee is bigger than they were, which makes sense, he supposes, not being a twin. Bigger, and a little less red. Slightly more splotchy, but no less beautiful, and he grabs just as big a chunk of Nick's heart as his brother and sisters did.

"Hi," he says again, and presses his lips to Baylee's forehead.

* * *

He can't sleep, so he knocks on the door to Kevin's hotel room. Howie is snoring so loudly Nick can hear it through the wall, and AJ brought Sarah with him, but Nick and Kevin are alone, and Kevin's stuck on the other side of Howie's room.

"Hey," Kevin says. "You too?"

They sit on the balcony, because it may be November but Atlanta's not that cold, and they talk about Baylee and Brian.

"Do you love him?" Kevin says suddenly, and Nick starts.

"Baylee?" he says.

"No."

"No," Nick says softly. "Not like I thought."

"AJ?" Kevin says.

"What? Kev, what--"

"You got arrested when he announced the engagement. Twice."

"Once," Nick says. "The time in England I didn't."

"Nick."

"I wasn't happy," Nick says.

"But you are, now."

"Yes."

"You don't love him?" Kevin says, and Nick shakes his head, slowly. The moon is shining down on Kevin's face, and he looks different. Ethereal, almost.

"Why?" he says.

Kevin leans forward. "I like taking care of you," he whispers, and brushes Nick's lips with his own.

"Oh," Nick says, and then the moon is lost behind a cloud, and Nick is lost in Kevin.