Nick had thought he and Leslie would spend their days shopping, maybe taking a movie or two. Tuesday morning he found out that Leslie had very different plans.

"C'mon, c'mon!" she nagged him out of bed. "We gotta be at BU by 11:00 and I want to take the T!"

"BU?" Nick asked groggily.

"Boston University, moron. We're going on a tour."

Apparently Nick's ability to plan was genetic. Once he was out of bed, dressed and eating some of the room service muffins Leslie had ordered for breakfast, his sister presented him with an itinerary for the day and a map of the T transit system.

"11:00 is BU. We get lunch somewhere about 1:00. 3:00 is Harvard. Back to the hotel around six..." her efficiency faded into uncertainty. "Can we hang out tonight too? Like, can I do something with you and Chris? I mean, I can just watch Buffy and maybe something on pay-per-view if you guys want to be alone..."

"Hey!" Nick waved a muffin at her. "I want to see Chris, yeah. But seeing him this week was *your* idea. Your break, your week, remember? We have a deal here."

"Nick, I was awake when you snuck in here at 5:00 am."

"Les, my boyfriend is staying in the same hotel. Do you want us making out in the next bed?"

"I love you Nick, but...ew, no."

"Am I here in Boston in the middle of like, a shitload of insane NSYNC love and fans who could recognize me at any second?"

"Yes?"

"Wouldn't it be easier for me to kidnap Chris when they're in New York?"

"I guess so."

"Then I think the week's still about you, sis."

"Fine, whatever. Hurry *up*, we're gonna be late!"

The day was a lot of fun for Nick. His standard disguise -- Columbia jacket, brown hair and glasses, combined with the usual unlikelihood of Nick Carter being on a university campus kept him from having to worry about being recognized. Instead, he spent the day observing Leslie, listening to her questions to the tour guides, seeing what brochures she was interested in, and generally being quite impressed with her enthusiasm. He hadn't seen Leslie come out of her shell around other people in a long while.

"You're really into this, huh?" Nick grinned at her on their way back to the hotel. "My little sister at Harvard."

"It doesn't have to be Harvard," Leslie protested. "My GPA's probably not high enough anyway."

"It can be, if you want it to," Nick assured her.

"It's just... way more intimidating in person," Leslie shrugged.

"Les, you're the last Carter to be worried about being smart enough, girl." Nick shook his head. "Listen, did I ever tell you what Darcy did to the first essay I asked her to help me with?"

"Don't think so."

"Lucky for everyone I was already determined to do things right, so she got the first draft about a week before it was actually due. She handed it back to me all covered in blue pencil marks and I thought it was going to take me another two weeks to get the damn thing right." He grinned at the memory, "She tacked on a last page with a list of rules."

"Uh oh,"

""When using any words longer than three syllables"", he quoted, trying to mimic Darcy's affectionately sarcastic tones. ""Is this a real word in the English language? Are you *sure*? Have you checked it in a *dictionary*? Is it *spelled* right? Is this the *correct* use of the word? Is there a two-syllable word you could use instead? Now, you may use the word.""

"That's terrible!" Leslie giggled.

"Oh, she got worse," Nick told her. ""Check your facts! Be able to point to one book, periodical, journal or at least three websites that say that St. Patrick was somehow involved with Valentine's Day, or it will haunt you to the end of your days." That's how I found out she knew who I was. But my point - I found help, I listened to her, and I'm actually passing now. If *I* can do it, you'll have no problems."

Leslie rolled her eyes, but stayed silent, so Nick changed topics.

"Why Boston?" he asked, already knowing why *not* New York.

"I dunno. Somewhere not Florida." Nick squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm not giving up on music or anything," she said suddenly. "I just... want to have more to say."

"You know I don't care if you have a music career or not, right?"

"Sort of?"

"Oh come on, Lestea. There's a zillion things you can do with your life. Just because me and Aaron sing, doesn't mean you have to." Nick stopped and blinked at her. "Listen to me, I sound like an after-school special."

She giggled.

"But seriously. Go to college if you want. If Mom says anything, come to me and I'll pay for it. Do something nobody expects. Be a fucking rocket scientist if you want to. Just be happy, Les. I need *one* of us to be happy."

"You're not happy?" Leslie asked, getting up for their stop. "I thought that was like, the point of this whole thing."

"It was," Nick answered, cursing his slip. "It is. I'm... fine."

"Uh huh," she looked at him skeptically.

"Ok, you caught me. I'm old, bitter and cynical, okay?"

"That's my brother."

"...and Lance, man!" Chris laughed. "Lance just grabbed that ball and launched himself at the basket. Swear to God, I thought he was gonna get himself enough height to *dunk* that sucker. He didn't, of course, but he did get the two points, plus the look of *shock* on Justin's face. He looked like he was going to shit himself standing." Chris gave himself over to mad cackles while Nick watched, amused.

"Sounds like a good game," he agreed when Chris had himself under control. "Smells like it too. Hope you're planning on a shower. "

"Laundry, showers... you have a clean kink, or something, Nick? It was great." Chris continued, refusing to be distracted by such mundane things as showers. "Wish you could've been there."

"Don't worry about it. Me and Leslie had fun. She dragged me all over the T. Boston University, Harvard..."

"I thought she wanted to go shopping?"

Nick shrugged. "Tomorrow. She'll be a senior next year. I guess being in a real school is making her think about other things than just the music biz, y'know?"

"And her big brother's in college," Chris pointed out slyly. He didn't miss the faint sadness to Nick's answering smile.

"Yeah well... Hey, were you planning anything romantic tonight? I think Les wants to hang with us some more."

"Ah the romance of man against ice and puck...."

"Hockey?"

"Yeah. Game's on in... what time is it? Woah, soon. I was hoping my dear sweet boyfriend wouldn't mind if..."

Nick snorted. "Totally romantic. Really. I'll call Leslie. Go have your shower."

"Yes sir!"

Chris was still shirtless when they heard the knock at the door. He froze, looking over at Nick.

"Could be nothing," Nick offered weakly.

"Bathroom" was Chris' only coherent thought. Nick fled as their visitor knocked again.

"Gimme a sec!" Chris yelled, grabbing a t-shirt. He moved slowly towards the door. "I am not decent here," he babbled loudly. "You want to go blind or something?" Another knock. Chris flung open the door. "All right alread - Jesus, Leslie!"

"Hey," Leslie stood in the doorway, blinking innocently. "How's it goin', Chris?"

"You little... get in here!" he growled. She laughed and obeyed.

"Where's Nick? Hiding under the bed?"

"Leslie Barbara Carter!" Nick stormed. "You trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

"Or something," Leslie's eyes danced merrily. "You should've seen his face!"

"You are an evil, evil little girl," Chris ranted.

"But I'm an evil girl with a plan," she countered.

"You Carters and your plans..." Chris whirled and pointed at Nick. "Promise me you'll never form an unholy alliance with Lance!"

"Chris, chill." Nick grabbed Chris' arm and hauled him into a hug before sitting them both down on the bed. "Leslie wants to go out for dinner," he explained. "You found someplace?"

"There's this sports bar not far from here - Fours. It has food, and it's kind of a family place. I can get in, I just can't sit at the bar. They say they've got TV's everywhere, so you guys can watch the hockey without abandoning me."

Chris nodded approval.

"And how do we get there?" Nick prompted.

"Two groups. You and me, then Chris and a bodyguard." She paused apologetically. "I don't think we can pull it off without security."

"I'll ask Tiny," Chris put in. "He'll keep his mouth shut if I ask him to. He's probably got a bet riding on one of the games tonight anyway. Now you want to tell us why the plan needed you to come up here and scare a year off my life?"

"How were you planning on Nick getting out of here?" Leslie looked from one guy to the other. "Leaving at 5:00 am was safe enough this morning but like, everyone's on this floor right now and they're all awake. Anybody could open a door and see him leaving - you're miles from the elevator and the stairs ain't that close either."

"Was there a flaw in your planning?" Chris asked Nick, feigning shock.

"Guess so," Nick admitted. "But I have Les for back-up."

Leslie, it turned out, was great back-up. She'd brought her cell phone, and Nick's, which he'd left in their room, and stayed on the phone with her brother while she went down the hall to the stairs. She diverted Joey when he wandered out into the hall and called back when it was safe. She ordered Nick to "Move it!" when a door further down the hall opened. In short, she had lots of fun.

Chris grumbled that Fours looked too classy to be a real sports bar, but the Boston-Phoenix game was on the monitors and that was all he'd really wanted anyway.

"Offside! Are you blind?" Chris raged. "He was a MILE inside the defence!"

"If you say so, Chris." Leslie said, glancing at the T.V.

"Look!" he jabbed a finger at the replay. "There's the defenceman. There's Lapointe. Now, is that or is that not offside?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm from Florida, remember?"

"Florida has hockey. Hell, Florida has tons of hockey, what with all the retired Canadians."

"So I don't pay attention much."

"But you know the basics, right?" Nick returned to the booth and grinned sympathetically at his sister. He'd been bullied into learning more about hockey since starting a relationship with Chris.

"Well, like, I know what a goal is and stuff, yeah," she shrugged. "I don't know any players or anything."

"You know Wayne Gretzky, right?"

"Um... he did the Tylenol ads?"

Chris stared at her in mute incomprehension.

"Les..." Nick warned, chuckling a little.

"Yeah, yeah." She snickered at Chris. "Wayne Gretzky is a hockey god. Number 99. Kings and Oilers. Don't bust a gasket, Christopher."

"Nick, you have an evil little sister. I mean, my sisters, they're bad. But this one... "

Leslie stole one of his fries. "Thanks!"
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