"Are you sure this is a good idea Lestea?" Nick worried, watching the throngs of teenagers converge on the Fleet Center.

"Nick, it took me a week of hard begging to get you here, don't make me start again," Leslie said, using all the exasperation in her sixteen-year-old arsenal.

Nick took a deep breath then let it out slowly, trying to keep calm. It wasn't easy - he'd never been on this side of a pop concert. Even from the relative safety of the car, the sheer number of people milling around outside the arena shook him.

"Okay. Your phone's charged?"

Leslie disconnected her phone from the cigarette lighter and waved it at him.

"Keep it on. And I mean on. Ringing, none of that vibrating bullshit."

"I *know* Nick."

"God, what if they recognize you?"

"I promise not to suddenly start singing "Like Wow" at the top of my lungs, okay?" Leslie rolled her eyes. "Nick, no one is going to recognize me. " She waved her black hair at him, "I'm not exactly Carter blonde."

"But you're going backstage *before* the show. As you!"

"Which is why I'm seeing the show from the VIP area. I'll be safe Nick, I swear. Will you *please* unlock the door?"

"Call me the second it's over."

"Nick!"

The lock clicked open.

"Thanks." Leslie planted a quick kiss on her brother's cheek and fled before he could change his mind.

Nick watched until Leslie had disappeared into the crowd, then he sighed, started the car and moved out of the area.

It was Leslie's March Break and Nick's Spring Break. He had promised her they'd spend it together, rather than leave her alone in Florida for a week. When NSYNC's tour schedule had come out, Leslie had emailed the March dates to Nick and started bargaining. It had taken quite a bit of begging to get Nick to agree to spend three days in a teenie-filled city, only a few floors away from plenty of people who would know him on sight, but eventually he'd caved. Saying a silent prayer to the patron saint of boyband members and their sisters, Nick hoped he wasn't going to regret his decision.

The Toy Room was abuzz with pre-show excitement. Chris wasn't quite high enough to be bouncing, but he certainly wasn't staying still either.

"Ohhhhh, somebody's not wearing green!" he cackled, swooping towards an unsuspecting crew member.

It was over the exclamations of "My eyes are green, you fucker! Get off me Kirkpatrick!" that he heard a semi-familiar voice.

"JC!"

His very fortunate victim was allowed to escape. Chris knew he shouldn't whirl, knew he shouldn't pounce, but he couldn't help himself.

"Ah ha!"

Leslie shrieked and jumped back.

"Chris, lay off man!" JC chided, laughing.

"Fresh meat!" Chris retorted. "Come here, my pretty!"

"Chris!" Leslie tried to back away, but when her eyes darted to JC for reassurance, Chris advanced. She shrieked again and ran. Chris chased her out of the Toy Room and down a hallway.

"Justin! Save me!" she babbled as they turned a corner. Unfortunately for Leslie, Justin knew what side his bread was butted on. He tried to block her. She faked left, Justin went right and Chris grabbed her by the knapsack.

Leslie eeped as the bag came open, spilling its contents everywhere.

"Oops." Chris stood looking at the mess he'd created.

"Bye!" Justin took off, leaving Chris to deal with his punishment.

"Ow." Leslie rubbed her shoulder. "Did you need to pull so hard?" she accused.

"Sorry." Chris crouched to scoop up Leslie's various items of makeup, her purse, her phones. Her phones? "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"If you get a notice in the mail saying I'm suing you for whiplash, you'll know the answer," she shot back.

"C'mon Les." She let him tuck everything back into the knapsack, but zipped it up before he could slip in the second phone.

"If I find out you lost anything, Kirkpatrick," she threatened, motioning to him to hide the phone in his hand.

"I'll send security to your seat," he promised, catching on. So Nick wanted him to call, huh? Oh the day was getting better by the second, and it had been pretty good to start with. "C'mon, let's get back. JC hasn't been drooled over enough today."

Reflecting that Nick and Leslie should have been working for the CIA, Chris followed her back to the Toy Room. He kept a low profile while she chatted with JC and handled teasing questions from Lance about Nick's whereabouts.

"So you're here all by yourself?" Lance prodded.

"No, I've got Nick in my knapsack," she teased back. Lance pretended to peek. "I'm sixteen. I live alone. I can book a hotel and board a plane without any help. It's called having a credit card."

"You're not skipping school, are you?" JC asked, suddenly concerned. "What day is it?"

"It's March Break, C."

"Oh! You should hang out with us, then." This, Chris noted, was probably part of the plan, not that JC would know anything about it. He'd never figured out if Leslie's crush on JC had started because JC was always nice to her, or if JC was always nice to Leslie because she had a little bit of a crush on him. Either way, now that the invitation had been offered, it wouldn't seem strange if Leslie flitted up to NSYNC's floor over the next few days. He made a mental note to do something nice for JC sometime after Nick and Leslie had left.

Confident that everything was under control, Chris went looking for a quiet place to use his new phone. Nick was listed as the last number dialed.

"Leslie? What's wrong?" Nick answered after one ring, sounding panicked.

"You know I'm not, you scheming bastard."

"Hey, man." Nick laughed. "You really did get her phone. I said to slip you the *blue* one."

Chris glanced at the phone in his hands, a tiger-striped affair. "Dude, your sister is seriously colour blind."

"Probably just nervous. She okay?"

"What d'you mean okay? You're around here somewhere, right? She's fine."

"You told security to look after her?" Nick pressed.

"Yeah, of course. Oh." Chris caught on. "Protective older brother, huh?"

"There's a *lot* of people at that concert."

"Oh right, I forgot. A Backstreet Boy wouldn't know a *big* crowd."

"Fuck you."

"I thought that's what we're trying to arrange?"

"Yeah it is." Chris heard Nick shift his phone. "We're staying at your hotel. Can you call the front desk and get someone to leave me a key?"

"What room are you in?"

"Hang on a sec." This time the phone impacted with a surface, and Chris listened as the muffled sounds of Nick checking in floated back at him.

"Three eighteen," Nick informed him, on the move again. "If George picks up, hang up -- he checked me in. There are two other people working the desk, you should be fine."

"Yes, sir! 'Zat it?"

"That's everything, man. Unless there's security still posted on your floor?"

"Nope. They figure that locks on the doors and programming on the elevator is good enough when we're not there."

"You need better security man," Nick chuckled.

"Not interested in keeping you out, Carter."

"You say the sweetest things." Chris bit back his protest that yes, he'd thought that was pretty damn romantic. "See you after the show. Don't party too late."

"Hey, how come you're not coming?"

"Too risky. Tall guy with Leslie? I'm too tall to pass for Aaron, and the brown hair won't fool any stray Backstreet fans high on hormones."

"But there's two shows in Boston," Chris protested. "You could come alone."

"I'll see what I can swing."

Chris knew it was as close to a promise as he was going to get. "You don't show up, I'm sending you videotape."

"You wish. I'll see you later, Chris. Good show, man."

Nick had only been settled in Chris' room for about an hour when he heard the door click open. Surprised, he shut his Astronomy textbook and sat up on the bed.

"Man, you must really love me," Chris announced, bouncing into the room. "Driving into Boston on St. Patrick's Day. Talk about headaches!"

"You must be pretty desperate to get laid," Nick answered with a grin. "Coming straight back after the concert, not even one green beer? Kirkpatrick, where's your Irish Pride?"

"Pain pills," Chris scowled. "Stupid knee's acting up. No alcohol. " He brightened. "Sex instead!"

"Your knee again?" Nick stood, frowning. "What did you do to it?"

"I *danced* Nick, it's in the job description. I'm old, my knees hate me, the choreographers hate my knees." He waved the matter off. "The important thing to remember here is it's St. Paddy's Day, I'm beer-deprived and you need to make it up to me with lots of sex."

"Are you sure..."

"Finish that sentence and it's your back we'll be worrying about." Chris warned.

"I'm in love with a hopeless romantic," Nick gave it up as a lost cause. "Were you at least planning to shower first?"

"Only if you come with me. " Sensing at least token reluctance, Chris grabbed Nick's hand and tugged. "Come on, I'll be naked, wet and soapy. How can you resist?"

"You're sure those are pain pills you're on, Chris? Not sugar pills, or maybe Viagra?" Nick asked mildly, allowing himself to be led.

"Nothin' but good old-fashioned Tylenol three. Quit stalling. And hey, if one of my groupmates has a sudden attack of sympathy and needs to check up on me, the bathroom's a better hiding spot."

"You're so brilliant."

"I know."

Nick pulled Chris to him, stopping their progress. "I missed you."

"Likewi..." Chris' attempt at nonchalance was cut off as Nick kissed him forcefully.
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