On the bus with Patrick, when the options were writing, eating or rehearsing, it was much easier to think about it as coming up with just two more songs. Rattling around on a promo tour until he isn't sure what language the audience speaks, forget about what time zone he's in, he remembers that's he's not so good at writing on a deadline.

"Am I waking you up, keeping you up, or calling in the middle of soundcheck?" he asks forlornly. Whose brilliant idea was Europe in October anyway?

"It's uh... actually it's dinner. I should probably eat." Patrick sounds vaguely surprised, as if he doesn't let the time get away from him, like every single day. It's cute.

"Working on that new thing with Pete?" It's sort of odd to think that Patrick has his own stuff to work on. It's probably a good thing that Patrick now thinks it's okay to talk to Nick about his other projects. It's not like Nick's jealous or anything. Okay, he might be, if he'd had the time and energy to send Patrick anything this week.

"Yeah." There's various shuffling noises over the phone. Nick can picture Patrick tucking it under his chin as he closes the laptop and rolls off his bed. "It's possible Pete Wentz has written a love song that does not end in horrible bloody vengeance. I'm thinking of checking him for pods. Or possibly asking Ryan to stop texting Pete his cast-offs."

"Have you worked out the bridge yet?"

"No, so there's still hope."

Nick snickers. The jokes about Pete are new, too, as if Patrick gets that Nick won't take them as actual jabs at Pete. Nick's not stupid enough to think this gives him license to make fun of Pete.

"Anything on your end?" Somehow Patrick manages to sound interested without nagging. Nick's not sure if it makes him feel better or worse.

"Dude, I tried last night and then I realized that I was typing up the lyrics to the next single." He might have banged his head on the keyboard a couple of times at that point.

"Wow. That's sort of impressive levels of jet-lag. Should you be calling me? Like, what time is it there? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Oh fuck off. I am a popstar and..." Nick yawns. A lot. Patrick's laughter isn't subtle. "And I'm getting up at ass o'clock again tomorrow. Also, I think Brian's done with the shower, so our time without an audience is almost up."

"You mean I shouldn't tell you what I'm wearing?"

And Nick must be tired because the part of him that goes "ooh, phone sex, I can totally hide in the bathroom, Brian won't hear much" is a lot quieter than the part that goes "if I pass out right fucking now I might get a whole five hours sleep".

"Seriously? Hold that thought. We have to have at least one day off sometime soon and I will calculate the time difference and find myself an empty hotel room and everything." And he's not quite tired enough to not be picturing it. But then Brian walks in and yeah, no. "For now, have a good show, say hi to Marcus for me, and I'll call you tomorrow."

"'Night Nick. Write me something!"

Normally Patrick wouldn't be picking up his phone at two in the afternoon, much less when the number's not one he recognizes. Today's a day off though, and no-one needs him to soundcheck anything, plus he's gotten used to Nick's habit of picking up the nearest cell phone to call, whether it belongs to him or not.

"Hey dude, what state, province or country are you in today?"

There's a pause, before an unfamiliar slow drawl responds. "I'm in Kentucky. Where are you?"

"Um..." There's something in the voice that sets off warning bells beyond the normal "A fan has gotten hold of my cell number again". "Texas. Who's this?"

"This is Kevin Richardson. I'm a friend of Nick's."

And Patrick knows from the tone that this is not the point to this call, but he has to ask just in case. "Is Nick okay?"

"Nick's fine." Kevin says evenly. "I called him a couple of days ago to talk about some new tracks he sent me. He talked about his new producer a lot."

"Good things, I hope?" Patrick's throat is a little dry. Maybe he can accidentally-on-purpose hang up and go get something to drink.

"Plenty of good things. So many good things that I started to think that maybe his new producer was doing more than just producing a few tracks for him."

Hang up. Hang up and change his cell phone number and possibly convince Pete that they need to re-work the tour schedule so he can't be found.

"That's um..." Patrick coughs. "A possibility."

"Now, I've got nothing against you, Patrick. You seem to make Nick very happy, and that's a good thing." Kevin continues in the same even, professional tone. Patrick can easily picture Kevin ordering a hit in the same tone of voice. "But you see, I worry about Nick. He's not always the best judge of character. And sometimes the people he chooses to spend time with do stupid things."

Patrick has absolutely nothing to say to this.

"Did you know that this year I decided to take some time off from the Backstreet Boys?" Kevin asks. "That means that if you ever do something stupid, I don't have to worry about tour schedules or promotional commitments, or even whether anyone will see me going somewhere at the airport."

Note to self. Never, ever let this guy anywhere near Pete. Pete might actually become an evil mastermind with help like this.

"I understand." He manages.

"Do you? That's good, Patrick. That's very good to know. Because right now Nick is happy, and it's really in everyone's best interest that he stay that way. Don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

"All right then. Have a nice day, Patrick. Maybe Nick will bring you around to meet me sometime."

Kevin hangs up. Patrick stares at the phone for a second. He fetches a bottle of juice out of the fridge before calling Nick.

"Is Kevin the one you wanted me to meet while there were knives around? Because I'm really glad I said no."

After a morning show appearance, two magazine interviews and a photoshoot, they're done for the day. It's only two in the afternoon, but they started the day at four, so no one thinks it's weird when Nick opts out of a shopping trip to head back to the hotel.

What he really should do is get out his guitar and see if anything comes to him. What he wants to do is call Patrick. It's something like eight in the morning or earlier so he might wake the dude up, but their phone calls have gotten shorter and more voicemail has been involved since Nick left the continent.

So, Nick puts the chain on the door (which he's not sharing with anyone today, but just in case) and gets comfortable before picking up the phone to dial.

He gets voicemail and sighs. "Hey Yoda, it's Nick. I've got the rest of the day off, so I thought I'd try a wake-up call, but I guess you've got it on vibrate. Or maybe you're a heavy sleeper? I wasn't around long enough to figure that out. I'm gonna take a nap, so hey in about five minutes we'll be doing the same thing, even if we are like, a zillion miles apart. My phone's not on vibrate, so gimme a call when you get this."

Naps are sweet and Nick has never turned one down when he gets the chance, but it feels just a little lonely curling up by himself.

When the phone does ring, it takes him a moment to figure out what's going on, but instinct has the phone to his ear before he's entirely awake. "Mmmm?"

"Nick Carter, this is your wake up call." Patrick says, sounding warm and amused.

Nick stretches and yawns, immediately much happier. "Hey dude. Time'zit?"

"Um.. about nine. I had like, half a coffee and climbed back into bed."

"Yeah?" Nick snuggles down into the bed a little. "Cool."

"It's the middle of the afternoon there, right? How did you get a whole afternoon off?"

"Got up at four am."

"Ouch. So the seven am phone call wasn't so much "I miss you" as revenge?"

"Was it seven? Huh. No, it was just... wanted to call." He's not as good at "I miss you" when there's a person actually listening.

"Well, you got me. Eventually. And we're still both in bed, even if you are seven or eight time zones away." Patrick's voice dips just a little lower, enough to not be a joke if Nick doesn't want it to be. "What are you wearing?"

"T-shirt and boxers." Nick tells him. Also socks, but he's not owning up to that over the phone. "I'm not taking anything off until your hat and glasses are off."

"What is this, strip poker?"

"No. It's me wanting to play with your hair and see you look all fuzzy and kind of dazed."

"If you call me cute, Carter..."

Nick laughs. "Did I say cute?" The cute was totally implied, though. "C'mon. The only time I can play with your hair is when I'm too far away to lose a hand over it." Which doesn't actually make sense, but whatever. "Hat off."

"Hat is off and you're playing with my non-existent hair."

"Oh please. You've got plenty of hair, dude. And it's soft. I like it."

"You're insane." Patrick grumps at him.

"You love it."

"That's what you think."

"Dude, we're bad at phone sex."

"I rule at phone sex. You just had to mention the hat."

"You were totally wearing one! I wasn't going to picture fucking you with your hat on!"

"Why not? I have some very hot hats."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"I do. C'mon, you can't picture opening the door to me wearing a suit and a really sharp fedora?"

"Um..." Nick's seen pictures, it is pretty hot.

"You'd be all rumpled and cute," Patrick continues, his voice warmer and slow. "In your t-shirt and boxers, probably with socks on, because hotel rooms in Europe are kind of cold."

Nick reaches down to pull his socks off as a matter of principle.

"You'd still be half-asleep. I'd have to push you into the room to get in. You'd stumble back a little and end up with your back against the wall. I'd have to tug your shirt to get you down where I could kiss you hello."

"Mmm," Nick mutters, remembering. "Your mouth."

"You like my mouth, huh?" Patrick sounds kind of wicked. "I didn't get to suck you off when you were here. Bet you'd like that even more."

"Oh yeah." Nick palms his dick through his boxers. It's getting pretty interested in this already.

"Are you touching yourself, Nick? Picturing me on my knees in front of you? I'm getting hard just thinking about seeing your cock again. It's a nice size. I probably wouldn't be able to take all of it, but we both know I wouldn't have to to make you feel really good."

"Fuck." Nick's got his hand down his shorts now. "It's kind of mean to promise a guy a blowjob when you don't know when you can pay up."

"Consider it incentive," Patrick says, a little breathless. And doesn't that make Nick's hand move just a little faster. "You'll just have to get creative with the schedules. And then... and then you'd have to..."

"Reciprocate." Nick finishes, picturing that too. "Get you all spread out on the bed, hold you down by your hips..."

"Oh shit." Nick bites his lip. Patrick swearing is way hotter than it should be.

"Pin you down so you could really feel it. So you couldn't move. There'd be bruises later, little marks that only you and me would know about. You'd touch them later while you're jerking off. Can you feel them now?"

"Oh... oh fuck, Nick!"

Patrick's voice sends Nick over the edge. When he comes down, he tastes blood - he's bitten right through his lip.

"Admit it," Patrick says, panting at little. "I rule at phone sex."

It's been two weeks since Nick last sent him anything workable, and Patrick is beginning to wonder how long it took him to piece together the twelve or so songs he'd sent at the start. He scrolls through his folder of their work, trying to think of something else he can do to this one or that one... wondering if there's a track he discarded too quickly... He wants to work, and today he wants to work on something of Nick's. He clicks on a joke track Nick sent him a week into their collaboration - a cover of Sophomore Slump that Pete is never ever allowed to hear. It's pretty decent though - just Nick's vocals over the original instrumentation.

Suddenly, he wonders if that's the answer. Nick's done a lot of writing compared to the five tracks on Now or Never. Maybe it's time for a cover, or some other songwriter. He pulls the laptop closer, glad to have a project to think about. He clicks on a folder that he and Pete share, full of half-done songs. It's mostly their own material, but about a quarter of it is stuff sent to Pete for approval from someone on Decaydance, or things that have been discarded from projects Patrick produced.

He toys with the idea of having Nick do a Gabe Saporta track, but amusing as it would be, nothing he has on hand really goes with the rest of Nick's album. Pretty much all of The Cab's stuff in the folder are still on hold until they're further along in the album process. Patrick flags a couple of GCH tracks that might work with some major retooling, but he's starting to think he'll have to ask Nick about songwriters he likes working with. Not necessarily a bad thing, but probably more expensive than Nick wants.

He's still not entirely clear why Nick's funding the record himself - he'd looked up the sales numbers for Now or Never and for a debut album they're pretty damn good. Hell, Panic! at the Disco would currently kill for those numbers for their second album. But then again, they're pretty damn nervous at the moment. They've thrown away about three times as many songs as they're actually using, and the album still isn't finished... that's an idea.

Once Ryan latched onto the "simple" idea, it took him quite a while to settle on a sound and a theme he liked. But with a little tweaking... Patrick moves three tracks off the shared folder to his own computer and hopes Pete won't notice until Patrick's done with them.

"Dude, why does the voice on this demo sound familiar, and why isn't it you?" Nick asks when Patrick picks up.

"Uh..." Patrick sounds almost nervous. Maybe Nick could have started with "Hello". "I told you it wasn't one of mine, right?"

Nick looks back at the text of the email. Oh. He'd been so relieved to see songs, he'd skipped right over most of what Patrick had to say. "So who is it?"

"It's um, Brendon. From Panic! at the Disco."

That's... unexpected. Nick thinks back to the very enthusiastic kid who sang with him at Spencer's party. It seems like forever ago.

"Was this written for me?" Because it sure wasn't written for Brendon. Brendon's voice is deeper than Nick's, but also cleaner. This song needs the rough edges Nick's voice can give it. It's not a pretty song.

"No. They were going through, like, a transitional phase or something, where they tossed out like, two songs for every one they kept. And then a week later they'd toss that one out too. From what Pete's said, I think they've settled down now, but this is one of the ones they didn't use."

"Huh."

"So what do you think?" Patrick says, sounding more comfortable now. "Also, which one do you mean by "this" one?"

"Um. The second one. It's..." He loses his words.

He'd listened to it twice before it had occurred to him it wasn't Patrick's voice on the track. The verses are very subdued, the chorus a complete rock-out, more violence in the song than anything Nick's ever recorded, although he's tried. Brendon, or whoever actually wrote the song, has written a song Nick once would have given his eyeteeth to be able to write. His mom will never believe he didn't write it, assuming she pays attention to his solo career.

He's not sure he wants her to hear it. He sure as hell isn't going to give up the chance to record it. "I haven't listened to the last one you sent," he confesses. "But I want this one, Patrick."

"We need to do this right." Nick is saying earnestly. "Book studio time, musicians, everything."

Patrick had suspected Nick would identify with this particular Panic song, but not like this. He thinks the words are probably mostly Brendon's, and Nick's occasional allusions to "shitty parents" had all been a lot less complicated than what wound through this song. It is a good song though, and if Nick can come up with the right delivery, it could be awesome.

If Nick wants to spend his money on studio time and session musicians, that's his call, and Patrick won't say no to being behind a 24-track board again, much less to seeing Nick for a day or two. But there's something very personal behind Nick's sudden enthusiasm and Patrick has learned to be protective.

"Are you sure you want witnesses?" It's maybe more than he has a right to ask. Nick hasn't told him anything about his family, really, he's assuming things.

"I..." Nick sighs heavily. Patrick can almost feel him slowing down, hear him thinking. "They could lay down the instrumental tracks without me... No, fuck. I want to do this live. Can you sit in on it?"

"Sure." It's harder to produce in the studio when you're actually part of laying down the tracks, but nothing Patrick hasn't done before. He contemplates suggesting that some if not all of Panic sit in on it as well, before realizing. "Shit. Nick, I haven't even asked for permission yet. I was going to get you to record the vocal and send it to them."

"I can do that tonight no problem. And if they say no to you, I'll call them up. Whatever we have to do to get it."

When he gets the email, Patrick is almost afraid to listen. But it's good. Nick's voice is subtle and haunting when it's called for, and raw almost to the point of cracking when he goes on the attack. Patrick picks up the phone to call Las Vegas.

Nick's distracted and fidgety. The others cover for him through two radio interviews, a photoshoot, and a meeting with some European label reps. But for dinner, instead of going out as they had originally planned, all four of them crowd into Brian and AJ's room.

Nick plops down on one bed, with Howie next to him. AJ chooses to lean against the wall, so Brian stretches out, a bed all to himself.

"What's up, Nicky?" Howie has no tact with any of them, which is part of the reason he ended up group peacemaker.

"It's... nothing really." He hasn't played any of the new stuff for the guys. The whole process is a lot more work than normal and he isn't sure he could keep going if any of them even looked like they might say anything bad about it.

"Translation: It's your album." AJ says, crossing his arms. "That Patrick dude jerking you around?"

"No." He also still hasn't told them that Patrick's more than his producer. Normally they'd all notice right away, but they didn't see him until more than twenty-four hours after he'd gotten laid, and that was in an airport lounge waiting to fly to Europe. "No, Patrick's awesome."

"Oh really?" AJ's eyebrows climb up dramatically. "Do tell." Howie's grinning a little, and bounces the bed encouragingly. When they're paying attention his fellas catch on pretty quick.

Brian's still frowning, not so easily diverted. "So if Patrick's not the problem, what's got you so jumpy, Frack?"

Nick lets himself fall backward onto the bed, letting his breath out in a sigh. "Um. We need two more songs for the album and I've been stuck since I came back from seeing Patrick."

"You haven't been jumpy except for today." Howie points out, Captain Obvious as usual.

"Yeah, well." Nick picks at the bedspread absently. "Yesterday Patrick came up with a solution. Sent me a couple of tracks by other people to see what I thought."

"Who was it?" AJ asks. "Bryan Adams or something?"

Nick snorts. He likes Bryan Adams, but they've worked with Mutt Lange - Bryan Adams wouldn't intimidate him one bit.

"Steve Perry?" Brian suggests. And wouldn't that be a trip, to do a Steve Perry track.

"Nothing like that, guys." He pushes himself up on his elbows to look at them all. "It's this really awesome track. About... carrying a piece of your parents around, no matter how much you had to grow up by yourself."

Even with the guys, his family life doesn't come up much. They've been there for enough of it, he doesn't usually need to talk about it. Brian has gone a particular kind of quiet reserved for people who hurt any of them. Howie sits there radiating sympathy, and AJ is swearing quietly.

"It's... I'm still not totally sure I want it out there for everyone to hear. But I have to record it. I just... I need to. But it's a discarded track Patrick had lying around, he hadn't asked permission yet. And he hasn't called back."

"Okay, so do you want anything special from room service, or can we pick something while you go call him already?" Is AJ's response. Nick kinda loves AJ.

"Nothing Brian wouldn't eat," is probably the quickest way to make sure they don't order him anything too weird. He stands up, and submits to hugs all round before crossing the hall to the room he's sharing with Howie.

If he's done the math right, it's a little before soundcheck. He dials quickly, and sits on his bed to wait.

When Ryan hears what song Patrick is interested in, he turns from mildly interested to guarded. "That's one of Brendon's. Brendon and Jon really, but... you can't give that song to just anybody, Patrick."

"And if I said it was Nick Carter who wanted it?"

"Wow, that wouldn't be splashing Brendon's personal business all over the planet or anything."

"Thank you, Ryan Ross, I didn't know that already." Sometimes dealing with Ryan gives Patrick a headache. There are a number of Patrick's friends who do this to him, it's probably a sign he needs better friends. "If Brendon says yes, are you going to talk him out of it?"

"No." Ryan grants him sullenly. "It's Brendon's business."

"Thanks." The most important part of the call over, Patrick relaxes a little. "How's the album going?"

"I don't know, Patrick." Brendon's voice is quiet, considering. "I mean, it's really personal, you know? If it was me singing it live, or even Ryan or Jon.... Maybe if you were calling to say you guys wanted it. Maybe. Uh, not that I'm saying it's good enough for a Fall Out Boy record or..."

"It's not our style, exactly." Patrick says patiently. "But it is Nick's. And I think he gets it. I mean, he's never given me details, but he had shitty parents too."

"It's not just about having shitty parents, man."

"No, I know. But I think he gets it." Patrick repeats. "Will you at least listen to the demo?"

"I... Yeah. Okay. I can do that. But I'll... I mean, no guarantees or anything, okay?"

"That's fine. I get that." Patrick tries to figure out how to express to Brendon how much this means to Nick. It's hard, because he isn't sure himself. "He really wants this one, dude. Like, we've done most of the songs just the two of us feeding stuff into GarageBand but he's talking about studio time just for this song. And he wants you guys to play on it."

"Wait, what?" That sounds a little more like normal Brendon. "He wants what?"

"He doesn't want to do it with just any session musicians. It would just be you, me, Nick and whoever else from Panic you want to bring in. I'd produce it."

"Wow." Brendon says, definitely more enthused. "That would be about a million times better than the video Pete has."

Trust Brendon Urie to take Pete's blackmail material and put it on his iPod.

"But still, no guarantees. I'll listen."

"Okay. It should be in your inbox in a minute. Gimme a call later."

"Sure thing. Hey, Patrick? You should probably talk to Ryan, too. He's got a couple of ideas he wants advice on but you know how he is."

"I'll talk to him. Later, dude."

Brendon eventually confesses to liking Nick's version, but he's still not sold on the idea of letting Nick put it out there. It takes three lengthy (from what Patrick hears) phone calls from Nick until finally, Brendon agrees and the scheduling hell starts.



next
table of contents
feedback