Suicide Doors

Chapter Twelve

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Did anyone see the video of Nick J briefly covering Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me? I must be way over my head with this Joick thing, because instead of seeing that as sweet homage to a friend's success (or trying to seduce T-Swift, which I refuse to believe he would ever do), I totally saw it as- 'oh look, he's rubbing it in her face that Joe likes him better'. I have this way of imagining things, just like that Miley slipup (which hey, brightened! You promised me fic. I is waiting so very patiently. –gives puppy dog eyes-). And yes, I know he covers The Climb too, but originally he just did You Belong With Me when I began this chapter.

Joe never thought he wouldn't know how to act around his baby brother. Having siblings was pretty much an implicit get out of jail free card- no matter whether he was at a celebrity party or just chilling in his room, he always had these two (and a half, if you counted Frankie, which Joe didn't most of the time) people he'd always be comfortable with.

Now, he had all these idiotic feelings and ideas that had driven a wedge between not only him and Kevin, but him and Nick; Nick, whom he'd spent his life doing anything and everything to make happy. He'd loved Nick from the moment his baby brother entered the world; where Kevin was ecstatic one moment and ambivalent the next, treating Nick like some kind of instrument playing cuddly animal, Joe had known, deep down that this was his brother. His. When they played on stage, he threw his arm around Nick's shoulder to show all those screaming girls exactly who owned him; and maybe Joe had never consciously realized that was the case until now, but it was.

But now Nick hated him, and he had no idea what to do.

When he finally decided it was safe to go downstairs for breakfast, it was close to two in the afternoon. Nick was long gone, of course, probably off romancing stupid Penny with her stupid swishy hair and her stupid sparkly eyes. Then again, that's what Joe had figured his baby brother had been up to that morning, but no, apparently he'd wanted a chance to alternatively ogle and yell and Joe. So really, his guesses on what Nick spent his days doing could have been completely off; the youngest member of JONAS could have been chatting with monkeys at the zoo right that minute, for all Joe knew.

On the other hand Kevin, he mused, wasn't even worth guessing about. He was probably out doing whatever it was Kevin liked to do now that he had virtually no life.

At least, that's what Joe thought until he descended the fire pole into the kitchen in only his striped boxers and found himself face to face with a flustered Macy Misa. And unlike Nick, Joe was positive of exactly where her eyes had landed.

One would think he'd have learned to stop flouncing about his house half naked, but then again, it was his house. If he couldn't maintain some level of nudity there, where else would he ever get the chance?

At least he wasn't all half cocked and raring to go, which was usually the case the few times he'd done this right after waking. That would have really traumatized poor Macy.

"Oh, hi, Joe of JONAS!" her lips quirked into an 'o' and her eyes grew wide, like a baby lemur. She squeaked, "I was just waiting for a-uh, friend."

"Hi, Macy of- er, Horace Mantis," Joe replied, amused by how obviously uncomfortable his presence was making her. Actually, he wasn't sure if it was his presence or his nakedness, but he was betting on the former. From her shifty body language he could tell; she was totally hiding something, "I was just getting cereal."

"I- um," Macy's eyes darted left and right until they landed on a Tupperware tray on the counter, "I brought cupcakes!"

"Cupcakes?" Joe echoed, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Well, yes. I mean, I was really harsh to you the other day. I realize that now," Macy worried at her lip with her teeth, finally managing to meet his eyes, "The cupcakes are an apology."

Joe walked over to the counter, peering inside the Tupperware lid. The cupcakes were topped with sugary swirls of frosting and icy looking crystallized sprinkles. They were pretty, and probably delicious, "Apology accepted."

He paused, all thoughts of intrigue fleeing, because he really wanted to know, "Macy, what made you change your mind?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but then her cheeks colored red, "K-Kevin! Hi, Kevin."

Joe glanced up to see his big brother standing- more like loitering at the bottom of the stairs. He was staring straight at Joe, hands in his pockets and head cocked to the side.

"Kev," Joe acknowledged, ninety nine percent certain that Kevin wouldn't say a word back. Despite Nick's break in the silence that morning, Kevin had yet to so much as smile in his general direction.

To his surprise, Kevin jutted out his chin and said, "Joe."

His voice wasn't exactly warm, but it was a start.

"Macy," Kevin said, his voice softening, "Still want to go see that movie?"

"Yes!" Macy yelped, her face burning brighter.

Oh.

Well, Joe had sort of seen that coming, but it was still a teensy shock. Macy and Kevin, hunh? He'd never thought either would have the balls to go on something resembling a date.

Of course when he said, "Date, hunh?" Macy and Kevin simultaneously colored rose and yelped, "No!"

So maybe he'd been right about neither of them being able to cowboy up. Still, when they left, hands brushing against each others' sides, Joe thought maybe this was just like Kevin talking to him; it was a start.

Nick came in around late afternoon, and when he first walked into their loft Joe heard the scuffle and pause of his sneakers. With big brother intuition, Joe knew Nick was deciding whether or not the bedroom was safe, and whether or not he could even fathom being around Joe. It sucked. Joe didn't want to disrupt the decision making process, so he kept his eyes glued to the television, even though he wasn't actually interested in reruns of Pimp My Ride and his eyes were beginning to hurt and his head was beginning to ache from watching like, ten hours of MTV.

Finally Nick's footsteps ventured into the room, but Joe still kept his head frozen, like if he so much as sighed Nick might bolt like Bambi.

"I was thinking about making a sandwhich," Nick said, and Joe stiffened even more, scared that maybe he was hallucinating, that staring at the lime green and sugar pink pimped out cars for so long had somehow spawned hallucinogenic side effects.

"Uh. I think we're out of bread," Joe muttered, finally, when the silence grew so big the Grand Canyon probably would have fit in it with room to spare.

"Oh. Okay. Maybe I'll just have cereal."

Joe didn't say anything to that, even though on a normal day he probably would have cracked a joke about Nick's complete lack of cooking ability.

"D'you- d'you want to keep me company?"

The words were so tentative, so fragile that Joe jumped to his feet immediately, not willing to break this sudden truce.

He followed Nick into the kitchen, watched the carefully rehearsed motions his younger brother made as he pulled a bowl from the cabinet, cereal from the pantry, and milk from the fridge. He watched Nick mix the ingredients with a spoon, watched him slump into a chair and take his first bite.

He never was one for tact, so he blurted, "Does this mean you're not pissed at me anymore?"

"No," Nick grit out between chewing, and Joe could tell that it had probably been the wrong question to ask.

"I- uh," Joe hated not being able to talk to Nick without feeling guilty, he hated feeling like a criminal, "I heard I'm old news. Some Disney star got caught getting lap dances in Texas."

"Yeah," Nick replied, and even though he was the one who'd asked for company, he didn't seem too keen on Joe's presence.

"Why aren't you with Penny?"

"Penny's out," Nick replied shortly, staring at his cereal.

"Okay…So, do you want to do something?"

"Like what, Joe? What could I possibly want to do with you?"

Joe winced away, feeling like he shouldn't have even tried, "Geez, you really know how to wound a guy."

"I'm sorry," Nick glanced up, meeting his eyes, and there was something there Joe didn't recognize, "I don't want to fight."

"Me neither," Joe admitted.

"What do you want to do?"

"We could…uh…watch TV?" Joe finished lamely, fresh out of ideas.

"Daytime TV's crap."

"Oh. We could work on the bridge in that one song?" he ventured.

"Finished it already."

"What about the lyrics-"

"Those too," Nick replied, sullen.

"We could write a new song."

"We already have too many for the album."

Joe frowned. Since when had that ever stopped him? Nick was constantly thinking up new music, humming to himself in the hallway and scribbling lyrics across his notebooks, singing in the shower and keeping Joe awake all hours of the night with his guitar.

Come to think of it, Joe hadn't heard Nick composing anything for a while now.

"Nick- hey, Nick," Joe snapped his fingers as Nick's attention drifted back towards the milky mess in his bowl, "Look at me."

He did. Nick looked straight at him, and his eyes were cold, they were dead. Joe tried to remember the last time he'd seen Nick really smile. A week ago? Two?

He couldn't recall. And that's when Joe knew, in his blood and in his bones, that Nick- his little brother, who used to steal mom's pots and pans out of the kitchen when he was five to bang out melodies, who used to time the sirens on Joe's broken fire truck toys to sing for him, and who used to laugh when they swam in their grandmother's pool, laugh so loudly and carefree that even the birds would stop to listen- Joe knew that Nick was wrong. He wasn't the same, and how had he missed that? When had Nick gotten all bitter and emo, outside the watchful eye of his big brother?

"I have an idea," he said quickly, "Let's go play basketball."

"I'm not-"

Joe stood up, taking hold of Nick's arm, "I'm not taking no for an answer."

Nick didn't protest again, docilely letting Joe drag him out the back door, grabbing the ball along the way. They were lucky today; no adventurous fans were lurking on the Jonas St. Firehouse's driveway. The lone hoop tacked on the back wall was starting to rust around the rim, and the net had seen better days. They could easily afford to get a new one, but most of the time they were too busy to play basketball anyway.

Joe performed an experimental dribble, trying to catch Nick's interest.

"I'm going to kick your butt," Joe announced.

"Right," Nick replied dully. But Joe could see the tiny spark of emotion flit across his face.

His little brother was, in all actuality, a competitive asshole. Even though Nick put up a little bit of a fight, after Joe loped past him nearly three times catching nothing but net, he was easily enticed into the game. Then Joe wasn't allowed to score any points. As a brother, as a musician, and as an athlete, Nick was brutal.

They called a timeout about half an hour into their game of one on one. Nick tore off his white t-shirt and went inside to grab some water bottles.

"You're still going down," Joe called after him, "Don't run away!"

Nick snorted disappearing into the kitchen, Joe almost thought he saw a hint of a smirk tugging his lips as he vanished.

Nick returned, and they both sucked down water like it was oxygen. The game resumed, all breathing and dissipating sunlight and the squeaky rhythm of their shoes.

The next time out was called when Nick's laces came undone, and Joe watched as he bent over the side of the yard, sweaty and shirtless, tying his shoe- and damn, was his baby brother's ass always that hot?

Maybe Joe stared for a little too long, because next thing he knew Nick was giving him the oddest look, and there might have been a flicker of a grin in there, "You're dumb."

"Thanks Nicholas," Joe frowned, twirling the ball in his fingers.

"No, I mean- you're really dumb."

"Stop, this overwhelming show of brotherly love and support is getting me all teary eyed."

Nick rolled his eyes, refusing to meet Joe's steady, intense gaze, "You. Are not listening."

"I'm pretty sure I am," Joe tapped a finger to his ear, "I'm dumb, right."

"Right," Nick affirmed, "But you don't even know why."

"I didn't know idiocy necessarily came with a reason behind it."

"I didn't say you were an idiot, Joe. Although- you are. But anyway, I said you're dumb, and you can't figure out why, so I guess I'm going to have to tell you."

"Yeah, that might help this conversation along."

Nick finished with his laces and strode up toward him, tall and broad and solid in a way Joe hadn't expected. He poked Joe in the chest, "I've missed you."

"I've been under house arrest for like, ever," Joe responded, not really getting it.

"Sure," Nick nodded, "But even before that- we haven't done anything like this since- since summer. And I missed it. I missed you."

For a second, Nick was leaning so close that Joe would have sworn up and down that his little brother was going to kiss him. But then he snatched the basketball from Joe's hands and dodged past him toward the basket, yelling, "Psych!"

Joe wanted to run after him, stop Nick from scoring a point, but at that moment he saw a smile spreading over Nick's face in earnest.

And maybe he was a little winded from their game, or maybe he was getting out of shape, or maybe some freak storm had come and stolen all the air from his lungs. Or maybe it was that smile left Joe breathless, because he just stood and let Nick sweep past him to win the game.

A/N: Please review!