When Patrick gets out of his admittedly long (real! hot!) post-show shower, Nick's already sacked out on the bed, dead to the world. It's disappointing, but Patrick can't blame him. He knows what hard-core jetlag is like. Nick used the live-show adrenaline to stay awake just long enough to get to a bed. Unfortunately Patrick's adrenaline is still pumping, thoughts and sounds going round and round in his head. He sighs and settles himself crosslegged next to Nick his laptop open on his lap. Time to see if today's sessions were as good as he thought they were a few hours ago.

It's not that much later when Patrick catches sight of a flashing light out of the corner of his eye. Nick's phone is ringing. Patrick's thought process only goes as far as "don't wake him up!" before he's got the phone to his ear.

"Uh, Nick's phone." He says, suddenly realizing that while answering the phone does stop the ringing, he now has to speak to someone.

"Hello there," says an amused, vaguely Southern voice. "This would be Patrick, right?"

Uh oh. "Brian?" Patrick asks warily.

"That's my name. What are you doing with Nick's phone, or should I not ask?"

"Nick's sleeping. I didn't want to wake him."

"All right. Well, maybe you can tell me how things went today, then." These Backstreet Boys are generally sneaky. They start out all civil and polite, but everything's a test. Patrick's learning.

He glances down at Nick's deceptively peaceful-looking face. "You mean in the studio, or when he had his ex-boyfriend go off on him for sending me a copy of Unbreakable?"

"He did what?"

Patrick sighs. "Look, we work together..." he starts, trying to pull together a speech on short notice.

"Not Nick," Brian brushes him off. "I figured he'd be sending the album to you. What's D done this time?"

"He pulled a line I heard from your cousin." Patrick's fairly sure that Brian's the one who's Kevin's cousin. Intra-Backstreet dynamics are a lot easier for Patrick to follow than intra-Fueled by Ramen dynamics are for Patrick to explain. "Something about Nick not being too smart about who he hangs out with."

"Wonderful." Patrick can almost hear the wheels turning. "I'll get Kevin to sort him out. Or maybe his fiancee." Evil by delegation. It's a trick Pete uses, although usually with less talking and more breaking of bones. "But Nick's asleep now?"

"Still jet-lagged, I guess. Napped on my bus most of the afternoon, and then a little after dinner."

"I slept most of the day away myself." Brian chuckles. "Did he eat any?"

"I brought him breakfast. He slept through lunch. He had something at dinner but that was when your bandmates arrived."

"And where is he now?"

It's a weird question, but easy enough. "In bed next to me."

"Good." It's gentle and approving. "I usually let Nick take care of himself. He's a big boy, you know, and he learns from his mistakes. Frack ain't big on regrets. But that song you sent him. It means the world to him, and it scares the shit out of the rest of us."

"Why?" Patrick knows better than to call anything "just a song" but surely it's good for Nick to face his demons, claim a little closure.

"Nick likes to pretend his parents have stopped paying attention to every move he makes. But as soon as this song gets out, there's going to be noise." Brian sighs. "And then his brother and sisters will take sides and Nick's going to be stuck in the middle again. We try to be there for him, we really do. But as I guess you saw tonight, we're not always perfect at it, and we do have our own lives. If that song gets out, Nick's going to need somebody who's on his side. If you walk away from him and leave him to deal with everything by himself..." Steel slips into Brian's voice now. "You will live to regret it, Patrick Stump, I promise you."

There's nothing Patrick can say to that, nothing he can promise. He hopes he'd be able to stand by Nick, even as just a friend. But he knows the spotlight does funny things, and he's not big on making promises he can't keep.

"I hear you," he says finally.

"You get some sleep, Patrick. Ain't any use to anyone if Nick's awake tomorrow and you ain't."

Patrick really stands no chance of not waking up the next morning, not when Nick's mouth is hotwarmwet around him and the suction is just perfect and while Patrick can't actually think, he's sure as hell awake. Nick swallows, bless him, before kissing his way up Patrick's body, removing his t-shirt as he goes.

Afterglow or not, Patrick can't help tensing a little when Nick settles down on top of him, that first moment of skin-to-skin contact. He knows that Nick's had weight issues, but Nick now is pretty damn fit, and Patrick is pretty much not. But Nick just kisses him until he's got no brain cells left to deal with the issue.

"Morning hot stuff." Nick says, low and teasing, his hips rolling slowly into Patrick. "Sorry I crapped out on you last night."

"Forgiven," Patrick manages, a whole three syllables.

"So I figure we've got a couple of options." Nick leans down to bite at Patrick's ear lobe, sending sparks skittering through his body. "One, we stay here and make use of this awesome, big comfy bed."

"Mmmm." Is about all Patrick can manage, slowly moving from post-sex stupid to too aroused to speak.

"Two," Nick pauses to bite at Patrick's jaw, before moving on to suck at the throat Patrick can't help but bare. "We check out the equally awesome, kind of huge shower this room has going on."

"Nrrrgh," Which would translate into, "Moving bad" if Patrick could spare the effort.

"Now, we pick one of those options and there's totally a chance we'll be able to eat the breakfast the hotel sent up and get to the studio on time." Nick pushes himself up a bit, just enough that Patrick tries to arch up and restore the lost body contact. "Or I could fuck you in this bed, feed you breakfast nice and slow, jerk you off in the shower, and be at least an hour late to the studio." Nick grinds down hard and dirty and Patrick clutches at his shoulders as starbursts go off behind his eyes.

Patrick can't really find it within himself to feel guilty when he and Nick end up late to the studio. It's not as if Panic didn't need the time to rehearse Safe Haven anyway. Pete's sitting on the floor of the studio playing with Hemmy, and Geoff looks vaguely relieved when they come in.

"Brendon said I could stay," Pete informs them, hugging Hemmy to himself as if to ward off anything Nick might say.

"What are we working on today, Yoda?" Nick asks, kneeling down to greet Hemmy. Despite the fact that Nick must smell like Patrick, and Patrick is, in Hemmy's opinion, an evil shoe-hoarder, Hemmy deigns to let Nick scratch behind his ears.

"Didn't I tell you?" Patrick's sure he meant to have that conversation. He knows it got delayed until the ride over and then... oh yes, then he got distracted by Nick's neck, so it's possible the music-related conversation went by the wayside. "Oh, uh. Yeah. Yesterday's stuff was pretty good. Geoff and I..." He's stopped by Nick's expression. "Right, Geoff and you and I, will have to do some editing, but I think we're good to move on."

"You can stay." Nick tells Pete. He stands up, coming face to face with another set of puppy eyes. Three of them actually. Brendon, Spencer and Ryan clearly have a request to make. Patrick does a double-take and fumbles for his phone. Sadly, Ryan catches the movement and the wonder of Ryan Ross looking adorably needy disappears before photographic evidence can be produced.

Brendon's version is much less "pleeeease" and a lot more "I'm adorable, you love me, you can't possibly say no, right? right?" It involves bouncing. Spencer is using his hips to great effect and looks as if he's considering what Nick's price would be, exactly.

"Um?" Nick says, backing up a step.

"So, Nick." Spencer says, direct and matter-of-fact, if slightly lower than usual. "We were thinking. We're helping you out, doing you a favour, right?"

"Patrick," Nick glances at him. "You didn't tell me I'd have to sell my soul to get them to help out."

"Oh nothing so drastic." Ryan chimes in.

"We just want the new album." Brendon explains with his best charming grin. Patrick's seen many versions and Brendon's definitely pulling out the big guns.

Patrick watches the muscles in Nick's back relax. Nick shakes his head and laughs. "First off, if y'all really were that interested there are seven tracks floating around the internet and I guarantee they're not that hard to find."

"We've been concentrating on our album." Ryan protests. "Not surfing the internet."

"Not for music anyway," Jon teases.

"And second, I don't have it here."

"But after we're done?" Ryan presses.

"After you're done, we are staying here to edit." Patrick interjects.

"Right. Plus, I promised I wouldn't share it around."

"We wouldn't leak it!" Brendon protests.

Patrick sees the look in Spencer's eyes and decides to cut the potential mutiny of his session musicians off at the pass. "I have it on my laptop. When we're done for the day, you guys can listen while we work. No downloading, uploading, or burning to CDs. Sound fair?"

Nick nods. "Yeah, I'm down with that."

"Excellent!" Brendon's halfway to the booth already. "What are we waiting for? We've got work to do, people!"

Recording for Safe Haven is a longer process than it was with Brendon's song. Panic has only had time for two or three run throughs - they're mostly working off of sheet music. Spencer's not even working with his own kit. It's a zombie version with congas and a different bass drum that Patrick got after making some quick calls yesterday. He's a pro, but it's throwing him off just a little. Patrick's still thinking he might need to find someone to play kettle drums over the bridge.

Still, it's a lot more fun. Nick's relaxed and happy, cracking jokes from the booth and making faces at Patrick. Patrick has to call a halt at one point because he's laughing too hard to listen to what's going on. Somehow, they're all still getting enough done that it doesn't feel like anyone's wasting time.

Geoff is a trooper, basically ignoring the lunatics (and dog) working around him and making sure to keep the board running in case goofing off turns to something they might want to keep. It does, more often than not. Patrick feels a little sorry for Geoff, having to put up with all of them, but then he realizes that Geoff works with musicians all the time, and this is probably a pretty tame day on the job.

Pete even manages to be less of a distraction than Patrick thought he'd be. One of Nick's more ...interesting faces inspires Pete to whip out the iPhone and start taking pictures. After the first somewhat distracting flash, Nick agrees to let him keep going, as long as Nick gets to keep them for possible album art. Patrick can see that idea pique Pete's interest, although he's trying to hide it. He tries hard not to think about what that might mean for the next Fall Out Boy album.

Patrick's got at least three full takes of Nick's voice that he could probably use, and Panic are only a few takes away from perfect when Patrick registers the missiles. Pete has found a writing pad and is balling up one page at a time and launching them at Patrick's back. He manages to ignore them for two more takes, but when one ball smacks the glass hard enough to distract Jon, Patrick snaps.

"Pete, so help me god you had better have a good fucking reason for this!" He snarls, whirling around in his chair. Pete has his best "don't give me attitude, Stump" face on. He points to the clock.

"It's half past one, slave-driver." He says, far too calmly. "Even slaves get fed once in a while. And Ryan Ross can't afford to skip a meal."

Patrick blinks up at the clock for a second before giving in. "Okay guys," he says into the PA, "your boss wants me to feed you."

He's almost proud when instead of cheers, he gets grumbles to the tune of "Just one more, Patrick, we swear we can get it!" Pete takes over the PA.

"I am paying for food, motherfuckers. If you don't get out here and decide what you want I'm buying you all fucking Hot Pockets."

The threat of tour food gets everyone away from their instruments and in to the control room to debate lunch.

"Options?" Pete asks, tapping a pen against the remnants of the notepad.

Spencer exchanges glances with Brendon and Ryan before nodding decisively and declaring "Port of Subs!"

"Oh, you're not predictable." Pete grumbles. "Patrick? Nick? Aren't we rock stars? Don't we deserve better than big-ass sandwiches?"

"Big-ass sandwiches sound fine to me, man." Nick says, leaning against the soundboard to play footsie with Patrick.

"Five to three, we win!" Brendon punches the air. "You can order online and stuff, if somebody needs the menu."

"Because the number's not programmed into all you fuckers' phones." Pete jabs his pen accusingly in their direction. "Besides, I count four to four."

"Jon Walker would never side against his bandmates." Brendon attaches himself, limpet-like, to Jon's side. "Jon, you love us best, right? Subs, Jon!"

"He loved us first," Pete argues. "I made you, Walker..."

"Sorry Pete," Jon shrugs a little, grinning at Spencer over Brendon's head. "I gotta live with these guys."

"Give it up, Pete." Patrick reaches for his laptop. "If you really want something fancy we can order room service tonight." It's not like Pete's palate actually runs towards the exotic, he's just being difficult. "Geoff, what do you take on your sub, dude?"

Ordering subs is a complicated business. Ryan and Spencer have their traditional favourites, while Brendon scrutinizes the menu in case something new has come up in the (Patrick's betting) no more than 48 hours since he last walked into a Port of Subs. Eventually he comes up with something elaborate that seems to satisfy him. Patrick's options are somewhat limited since he's still trying to stick with his latest foray into vegetarianism. Spencer advises Jon and Nick on choices, as Ryan butters up Pete enough to get him to order a sub composed of things Port of Subs actually serves. By the time they have the whole complicated order together, no one's in the mood to go back to recording for the forty-five minutes or so it will take for the food to arrive.

Pete decides to take Hemmy for a walk, accompanied by Ryan and Jon. Brendon bounces off to God-knows-where. Spencer goes back to fiddle with his drum kit some more, and Geoff goes out for a cigarette. This leaves Nick and Patrick sitting in the control room, eyeing one another. Without any other witnesses, Patrick seems willing to let Nick push a lot further with the footsie, although Nick can't really do much without leaning back against the board and potentially breaking something. Still it's nice to stand there in silence, one foot up on Patrick's calf, his ankle trapped between Patrick's feet, swaying a little as Patrick swivels in his chair, eyes dancing behind his glasses.

Nick's entertaining fantasies of hitting record, shoving Patrick into the vocal booth and going to his knees when something Spencer's doing with the drums catches his ear. Normally, when faced with a short amount of alone time with his long-distance significant other, Nick doesn't let himself get distracted by music, but his long-distance significant other is Patrick, and he notices when other people notice music.

Patrick lets go of Nick's ankle and rolls closer, leaning around him to speak into the PA.

"Hey Spence, try that again?"

Spencer looks up, bemused, but obediently runs through the last sequence he'd played.

"Do you think... " It sounds right, sounds familiar, which is impossible... but Patrick's already turning the board back on, and gesturing to his laptop.

"One more time, Spencer. Actually, run through it three times, with a little less snare on the second and some cymbal work on the end. "

Which is good, good, Patrick's thinking along the same lines, and Nick is pulling up that one song they'd abandoned weeks ago because even though the words were good, nothing really sounded right with them. But Spencer's way more into syncopation as a drummer than either Nick or Patrick. Panic, from what Nick's heard, has some really interesting beats.

"Here, there's a cord in the case..." Patrick sort of flails at him, but Nick hands him what he wants and then Patrick's taking over the computer, feeding Spencer's beat into Garageband. Spencer's clearly befuddled - Nick takes pity and waves at him to come in while Patrick works his magic.

"Yeah." Nick nods along. "Yeah. Keep that for the verses... I'll have to tweak the verses so they scan better, or at least, re-record them, we'll see..."

"But the bridge *works* now," Patrick continues, excited. "The bass line fits much better with that... maybe change up the piano a little..."

It means more work, probably in the middle of launching Unbreakable but Nick is bouncing now because they have song number twelve and they're so close to done he can fucking taste it. He grabs Spencer and smacks a kiss to his forehead.

"Spencer Smith, you're a genius."



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