Canaries In The Mines

Chapter Five

By: Jondy Macmillan

-Joe-

It was a little known fact around the penthouse apartment Joe shared with four friends that he preferred to spend the night in Justin Russo's bed.

It wasn't a gay thing; although any question of whether Joe was gay paled in comparison to his real preoccupation, the one that had driven him all the way across the country just to be spared having to incessantly think about it. If all Joe had to worry about was coming out, well, life would be a whole hell of a lot simpler.

He tried not to throw that thought out there into the world, though, 'cause he seriously doubted someone like, say, Kendall would appreciate having their inner turmoil marginalized that way.

Anyway, point was, Joe didn't do it because he wanted to get into Justin's pants. Justin was attractive, to be sure, but he didn't bat for Joe's possible team, and besides, both of their hearts resided elsewhere. Plus, if he had been doing it based on sex appeal, Joe would've chosen Kendall's bed, because he liked the kid; his fierce determination and competitive spirit reminded him of home. But Kendall kicked and flailed in his sleep, and the last time Joe had tried to curl up under the blond's arm he'd had to nurse a black eye for over a week.

Justin was the next best thing.

Mostly, Joe liked the whole companionship angle. Justin had problems freakishly similar to Joe's. It was nice, having someone to commiserate with, knowing he wasn't completely alone. It was nice to have a warm body to curl up next to. And, best of all, having someone to talk to right before bedtime was distracting.

He didn't do it every night, either. Just when he was feeling particularly forlorn. Who could even blame him? He'd grown up sharing a loft with his two brothers. He wasn't used to solitude. So yeah, most nights, he tried to stick it out and suffer the darkness and quiet of his room alone, sometimes staying out late at lounges and clubs, or sometimes dwelling in the living room with old eighties movies and whoever was around. If he had no choice but to lock himself in (on the rare occasion someone brought a girl home, and by rare, Joe meant it had happened like once, ever), he blasted his music and tried to drown out the world.

But if none of that worked, he fled to Justin's.

None of it was working tonight.

Only, see, over the past week, Justin had been all over the place. Joe knew he resented be dragged to the Charity gala on Tuesday, but that didn't really explain his spastic behavior. Justin resented a lot of things; hair in the shower drain, unwashed dishes, feet on the furniture. None of that had ever made him act like a douchebag, or shove Joe out of his bed and say things like, "I don't have the energy to snuggle."

Extremely offended, Joe retorted, "It is not snuggling."

"Yeah, it pretty much is."

"It is not," he sulked, allowing his lower lip to tremble theatrically.

"Joe," Justin sighed, "Look, I'm really stressed. Really, really stressed."

"Why?"

"None of your- I just am, okay?"

"Oh…'kay? But like, I'm a stress free environment," Joe explained seriously, "Mom always says having me around is like having a tranquility garden."

Justin rolled his eyes, "Your mother does not say that."

True. His mother had a lot to say about him, and none of it involved the world 'tranquil'…unless you counted that one time she joked about needing tranquilizers to deal with him. But Justin didn't need to know that, "No, I swear, it's totally true. I'm zen."

"I get that, but dude, I need you to be zen elsewhere."

Joe frowned. This was not going as planned, "Seriously, what's wrong?"

If he'd been talking to his little brother, Nick would have snapped and told him to leave it. Nick wouldn't have caved. Justin wasn't Nick. He was a little devious at times, but mostly he was soft, malleable. He wanted to believe in people, because he had a family where trust wasn't something easily given.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"Mom might've mentioned that too," he replied cheekily, happy to have won.

Justin bit his lip and said, "I've got this…family dinner thing, tomorrow."

"Sweet, a home cooked meal? You're bringing home the leftovers, right?"

When the boy across from him narrowed his eyes, Joe figured this was an opportune time to shut up.

"Alex is going to be there."

"Ohhhh."

"Ohhhh? That's all you have to say?"

"Well, you told me not to say that sucks donkey dick in your presence anymore," Joe answered with a straight face.

Predictably, Justin shuddered, "Gyeh, that is so unclean."

"You don't have to do it literally," Joe muttered, but under his breath, so Justin wouldn't hear. That wasn't a discussion he wanted to get into. Man, all he really wanted to get into was Justin's bed, but if he was going through some kind of quarter life crises Right Fucking Now, Joe wasn't sure sticking around for it would be advisable.

"Alex used to sleep in my bed," Justin announced, like it was some big thing.

Joe shrugged. He'd slept in his brothers' beds all the time, like some ongoing game of musical chairs involving pillows and sheets and tangled feet, and no one ever got left out. He didn't see what was so unusual about that.

Although, now that he thought about it, maybe it would've been a different story if there'd been some Lucas sisters.

"…in college, I mean. She used to- and, I just don't think I can handle having to see her tomorrow if that's all I'm going to be thinking about tonight. If you're curled up against me and I keep imagining it's her."

"Dude," Joe ticked off a finger, "Did you just compare me to your little sister? She's like, five foot nothing. And a girl."

"You're both warm," Justin confessed, shame burning high on his cheeks, "Please, Joe. Just this once?"

"Yeah, whatever, fine," Joe harrumphed, because this was all just one big angst-fest he didn't want to get involved in. He carded a hand through his already disheveled hair and padded out to their makeshift man-den. He didn't think he could take the suffocating quiet in his room right now, even if it was well past one in the morning. Already Friday, really.

He felt bad, for Justin.

Joe knew things had been rough for him; how could they not have been? He had all these incestuous feelings and no one to tell, for years upon years. And then Joe had come along, and it was like they could start a we-love-our-younger-siblings-club together, still miserable, but not alone, anymore. Justin had been ecstatic, not to be the only one, and there was no way Joe had ever been able to find the words, to break it to him.

To tell him that even if Alex reciprocated his feelings, it would only get worse.

They were both hardwired to be big brothers, to protect and to love. To keep their siblings safe, no matter what. Sometimes Joe wondered if Justin realized that even if Alex found out, even if she was twisted enough to want him in return, it was going to crush him.

Because then he'd be faced with…well, everything. Society, his parents. Maybe even god, if he had faith. Joe had never asked about that. It was better not to know. Everything that ever mattered, stuff that Justin had probably pored over again and again and again in reference to himself would be put in an entirely new light. He'd have to start considering how things would affect Alex.

If he was selfish, maybe he'd still pursue some kind of relationship. Joe had always been a pretty selfish guy.

Except when it came to the one kid who'd always been the center of his world.

The day he'd kissed his little brother had been the best and the worst of his whole life.

He curled up on the couch, and this, this was why he needed someone else nearby. Justin muttering in his sleep or Kendall thrashing or Oliver snoring or Tripp humming. He had to have something keeping his attention sidetracked so he wouldn't spend every waking minute dissecting what had happened, like a car crash on loop.

Thing is, he doesn't remember the entire day with startling clarity.

He can recall long weeks of nothing, after JONAS first broke up, of rediscovering what it was like to be a normal kid, or at least, half normal. He'd already graduated high school, but didn't want to venture off to college just yet. He wasted idle hours exploring Jersey suburbs he hadn't had the chance to see minus a bodyguard in a long, long time. Mostly, he just waited.

'Cause back then, the breakup wasn't a breakup, it was just a break. Joe had job offers for movies rolling in, but he put it all off, confident that his brothers just needed some time. Just a little, to find their own identities outside the band, so they could come back, greater than ever.

He'd been fucking naïve.

Meanwhile, Kevin was dating Macy, taking online classes at the community college, convinced he was going to become a Marine Biologist and begin an exciting career at Sea World, because that was his Biggest Dream. Well, outside of being a rockstar and a movie director, and he had both of those in the bag. He was aiming for the trifecta.

And Nick, well, Nick was being magnificent. Jetting off to LA, Paris, Nashville. Making music with some of the hottest names in the business. He was carving out a name for himself, one that had nothing to do with the other two Lucas brothers.

All the while, Joe had just sat around, twiddling his thumbs, believing that things would turn out fine. The more he turned down jobs, the less scripts rolled in, but hey, he didn't want to be abroad when Nick and Kevin came to their senses.

They did, but not the way he'd expected. Almost a year and a half had passed, and they ganged up on him. Told him it was time for a concert.

A grand farewell, to all their fans.

That's not what they called it. The PR people referred to it as a hiatus, like the last eighteen months had been a simple lull, and this was actually news.

Joe didn't remember much about the actual event; nothing more than the roar of the fans, the way Kevin had actually cried, a bone-crushing hug from his mom. Oh, and the blinding, piercing pain of betrayal, of abandonment. It hurt all the worse because Kevin and Nick would barely meet his eyes; they'd known this was coming, made the decision without him and everything, and never once said a word about it. Dirty Judases.

Nick was the only one man enough to admit it, of course. In their dressing room, after, when Joe was inhaling the scent of his own sweat and riding the post-concert high with the knowledge that it would be the last time. He didn't have the balls to go solo, or the creative chops like Nick. He was the song writer extraordinaire, the prodigy. The band had been his brainchild.

He marched up to Joe with steel in his eyes, shoved him back against the wall all heated and intense. This, Joe can remember, picture-perfect in his mind. It's the only part of the whole day he really wishes he could forget.

Nick wanted to know what his problem was. Why couldn't he just be grateful that they'd had a good run of it and go on, get a life? Didn't he want to be a big shot movie star? Didn't he want something more than to stand in JONAS's shadow?

Actually, no, Joe had retorted. The idea of getting involved with Hollywood again after this left a foul taste in his mouth. He didn't want to have to deal with any more backstabbers.

Nick had snapped, raged to the point where Joe had thought it was all going to end in fists, a crashing crescendo for the band's majestic finale. Fitting, he'd thought, because the whimper with which it had fizzled out was just pathetic. But Nick didn't hit him.

He kissed him.

And it was so much worse than a sucker punch to the gut. Because Joe had kissed back, furious, fearful, ecstatic all at the same time. He loved Nick so damn much he couldn't stand it. He always had. The band had been the only thing keeping them close, and that's why he'd hoped, so hard, for so long. He didn't want to lose his little brother.

There, caught up with Nick's lips, his tongue, his teeth and the way his hands roved everywhere, Joe understood that they didn't need the band to stay close. The one thing he'd secretly wished for, his darkest, deepest desire was happening. It was like a miracle.

Then realization hit, and everything shattered.

Joe had pushed Nick away, and nothing had ever been the same.

That hadn't been the end of it, obviously. Nick stuck around for a few weeks, ambushing Joe whenever they were alone. He was an expert on persistence.

When Joe met up with his future-roommates at the fashion show Stella dragged him to, it had been a godsend. The perfect way to avoid sending Nick straight to hell, or at the very least, ruining his bright, shiny future.

What he'd done, he did for all the right reasons.

It didn't make it suck any less.

The last time Joe talked to Nick was two months ago. He'd had an interview in New York, was staying at the downtown Marriott and trying to be all incognito. Meaning he couldn't just sneak out of his hotel, for fear of attracting every fan in the tri-state area.

So he'd called, "We need to talk."

"About what? Mom? Dad? Kevin? Frankie? Oh, or how about that new action movie with-"

"Dude, stop. You know about what."

"We really don't."

"Joe."

Silence.

"Joe."

He wanted to say something, honestly. He really did. But the words on the tip of his tongue weren't the ones Nick wanted to hear, even if they were what he needed.

Finally, Nick sighed.

"I can't keep doing this, Joe. I can't keep giving you up, only to have this-" Joe could imagine the way his baby brother was waving his hand vaguely in the air, trying to make sense of the all-encompassing 'this', "-happen over and over again."

Joe tried to find his voice, and it hadn't been this hard when he was a popstar. He struggled to choke out, "I'm not the one making it happen."

"No," Nick admitted, "But you're not exactly allowing me to let it go, either. How am I supposed to get past this if you won't even- acknowledge it?"

"Try?" Joe suggested, trying to sound scathing but really just coming off as tired.

Nick snorted, "I'm so sick of your attitude-"

"Then just move on already."

For a beat, Nick was quiet, considering, and then he said, "You're not."

"So? If you were really moving on, you wouldn't be so preoccupied with what's going on with me."

"Don't say that. I'm your brother. I'm supposed to be invested in your life."

"Kevin doesn't nag this much."

"Kevin's older than you. Older siblings are supposed to be role models," Nick paused, "…You're a really sucky role model, Joe."

He was teasing; that much was obvious from his voice. He was trying to restore some sense of normalcy to the conversation. But Joe wouldn't, couldn't bite, "That's one thing we can both agree on."

He hung up. Nick established radio silence, and Joe hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep, ever since.

Thus went the story of how Joe had alienated his little brother.

Ugh, sleeping on the couch was not fun. His spine felt like it had turned to rock, and the noon light streaming in the window was entirely too cheerful. They really needed some fucking curtains.

Joe stretched, still feeling exhausted, lying in a pool of despair and self-hatred until footsteps pounded into the living room.

"Oh hey, you're up," Kendall said, looking surprised, "You sleep like the dead."

"Really?" Joe tilted his head to the side, trying to rid himself of a crick in his neck, ""Cause I feel like I didn't sleep at all."

"Suckage. We've been playing Halo in Oliver's room so we wouldn't wake you. Ah, and Tripp made cupcakes," Kendall grinned half heartedly, plucking one off a tray on the kitchen counter. He began picking the sprinkles out of his frosting and popping them in his mouth. He'd been listless all week, maybe from the shock of seeing James, maybe from fucking spring allergies. Joe didn't know, didn't ask, didn't want to know.

"Sweet," he scrambled to his feet and grabbed one of the cupcakes from the tray, listening to Oliver and Tripp bicker from the next room. Those two were so alike that they clashed, constantly.

"C'mon," Kendall beckoned, tugging Joe along by his elbow and into Oken's room. Joe stumbled along after him, feeling stiff and trying to lick the frosting off his pastry. Cupcakes, pssh. Tripp was such a woman sometimes.

But Joe really liked chocolate frosting, so he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

They played video games until around four, when Oliver's phone pinged and the day began to go to shit.

Hannah Montana was planning a visit.

"When she said she was coming soon, I didn't think she meant next week," Oliver roared, panic evident in every inch of his being. He immediately assembled a war tribunal, bouncing options off Kendall, Tripp, and Justin like they were deciding the future of America.

Joe didn't really understand the Big Deal. From the sound of it, the girl was gaga for him. That, or she was a manipulative bitch who enjoyed playing with Oliver's feelings. Odds were, the latter wasn't the case. But Oliver was convinced that one wrong move would bring about the apocalypse, and Joe supposed he couldn't really fault him for that. Love felt pretty apocalyptic sometimes.

Somewhere amidst the brouhaha, the door rang, and Joe was designated answerer for the day. Obediently, he went about his duty, completely unsurprised when it was the littlest Russo, come to collect Justin. As an eyewitness to his friend's nervous breakdown the night before, Joe thought a babysitter was just what the doctor ordered.

Only, Justin was kind of a slippery asshole. He emerged from Oliver's room wrapped in a flannel robe with a thermometer in his mouth, a master at avoidance. With only a few words, he managed to dispatch little Max, who actually, come to think of it, wasn't all that little. Maybe a year or two younger than Nick.

Joe was jogging after him before he'd consciously made the decision to. There was something about the expression on Max's face, forlorn, lost.

Maybe Joe just missed being a big brother.

"Hey! Russo, hey!"

Max spun around, "Hey- uh, you?"

"Joe," Joe reminded him, because they'd met a handful of times, but he'd gleaned that the kid wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.

"Yeah, Joe. What's up?"

"Nothing. You wanna go…uh…I don't know, play catch in the park? You play catch?" Joe asked dubiously, because throwing around a baseball had always cheered Nick up, but Nick was a showoff and enjoyed pawning Joe at anything athletic, and frankly, to anyone else playing catch was probably only something you did with little kids. Max may have been younger, but he must've been at least a senior in high school. Plus he was taller than Joe.

All the same, he brightened and chirped, "Sure!"

Which is how Joe ended up in Central Park, tossing around a brand new baseball, straight from the corner store. They were breaking in new gloves, too. He hadn't wanted to risk going back to the apartment and having Justin get nosy. Although it would serve him right, if he even cared.

Max was chatty, going on about some new invention he'd made with cheese and socks and an electrical socket that didn't sound in any way safe or sane. His mouth moved a mile a minute, and even though he was talking nonsense, he seemed relieved to have someone to talk to.

Joe threw the ball to the kid with a grin, finally letting himself grunt, "You miss Justin?"

"No!" he emphasized the point by slamming his fist into the glove, but then his face fell and he meekly added, "Yeah, I don't know. Maybe."

"It's not your fault, y'know. That he doesn't want to come to dinner."

"Feels like," Max replied, biting his lip, "Dad says he got in a big fight with Alex, and that's why he never swings by, but…Alex isn't home most of the time, so."

Joe frowned. He wondered if Justin knew his kid brother felt that way. Probably not. Justin was the kind of person who'd care. A lot.

"It's not you," Joe said firmly, "Your brother's kind of self-absorbed."

"I could have told you that," Max snorted.

"He'll come around."

"Yeah," Max agreed, but he didn't look like he believed it.

Maybe it was sleeping on the couch, or maybe it was the talk with Max, or maybe it was even that Joe hadn't eaten anything but one of Tripp's chocolate cupcakes, but he was bone tired when he walked in the door of the apartment. All he wanted was to fall into his room and sleep for centuries. No, eons.

He could hear Tripp, Justin, Kendall, and Oliver, still locked in Oliver's room playing what sounded like Mario Kart. He could smell the garlicy scent of pizza, could see one empty box already folded into the garbage. He was tempted to stop, but all he could think about was how worn-out he felt. Sleep was priority numero uno, even if it was only eight. This day had to be over.

Only, when he walked into his room, he discovered there was a flaw in his plan, and it was gigantic.

The words fell past his lips before he could stop them, "Who let you in?"

For the past six months, Joe had flitted in and out of Justin's bed, but never once had anyone else ever been in his own.

Until now.

Until Nick.

A/N: Please review!