When he wakes up the next morning, Nick isn't entirely sure the whole night wasn't a dream. A producer. It's been a long time since someone wanted to hear his music, much less someone in a hot band with experience producing other bands. Patrick Stump is officially his Favourite Person outside of the guys.

Once he's up and caffeinated and functional, the second thoughts start crowding in. As much as he might want to be a rocker, Nick's under no delusions. He falls pretty close to the pop end of the scale. And while Fall Out Boy are pop as in "popular", there's a huge gap between emo-punk-whatever-pop and Nick's brand of rock-pop. He and Patrick come from very different worlds. Can Patrick's enthusiasm last past a first listen to Now or Never?

Only one way to find out. He sits down at his laptop, zips the album, including art and liner notes, and sends it off to Patrick, telling him the new stuff will come later.

Instead of calling up the list of new songs, he digs out his Fall Out Boy CDs. His music collection can be described as "eclectic" and "vast" - there aren't that many albums that he's really listened to closely, and he needs context. If he sends music to this guy, what is Patrick likely to do to it? Nick's not going to learn that from listening to the stuff Patrick's actually produced, he's going to learn that from listening to the source - how Patrick sings.

He's got a good voice. A strong voice, and getting stronger with age like most guys who don't abuse their voices too much. As much as the double-triple-quadruple-tracking proves it's calculated singing, there's passion there too. Nick knows about passion, he can work with passion, it's a lot better than working with smooth-talking suits. Patrick's credentials are impressive for someone of his age, he's definitely not a suit. He's young guy with lots left to prove, but a guy who listened to Nick talk about his music and wanted to hear more. Nick picks out two tracks, one from the disastrous sessions with his friends and one of his own. If Patrick can tell the difference between the two, he's sold. He adds his phone number and sits back to wait.

Patrick's not one to check his email constantly, unlike some of his bandmates, but he pays more attention to it than usual that day. When Nick's email comes, he sees it immediately. He opens the attachment, and studies the liner notes, looking for songs Nick actually wrote. Only five tracks, which is sort of disappointing. Of course he's fairly sure the Backstreet Boys don't write much of their own stuff, so maybe for Nick, five tracks was major progress. He makes those tracks into a playlist and tries them out.

Half-way through the first listen, he's already ready to tear them down and build them back up again. They're not bad, but they could've been so much better with a little tweaking. Or maybe a little less tweaking. Nick's voice is growly and raw and the music isn't quite stripped enough for Patrick's taste. Do I Have To Cry For You is easily his favourite. Nick's voice just soars above the music, perfectly matched with it, nothing interfering.

All the songs are pretty straightforward, Nick's clearly a novice lyricist, but Patrick can work with that. Musically, apart from being a bit overproduced, they're all different takes on rock-pop, with suggests that Nick knows his comfort zone, but is open to different ideas. The vocals - the vocals will be Nick's department and Patrick is going to learn a lot from him. He's also going to have fun just pushing him to go all-fucking-out.

After three listens, he loads up the other songs, just to see what other people got Nick to do, (and to keep listening to that voice) while waiting for the new stuff to arrive.

"Um, so the first one might actually be good. I couldn't tell behind all the sloppy playing." Is Patrick's considered opinion. Nick holds his breath. "The second is a little too radio-friendly for my taste but we could rough it up some. Also, you're a shit bass player."

"Oh, fuck you." Nick says into the phone, but he's laughing. "So you think I'm worth your time, dude?"

"We're back on tour tomorrow," Patrick says, sounding tentative.

"We have an album dropping in less than two months." He counters. His time for doing this normally is up.

"Huh."

"You know dawg, you can tell me it sucks. Wouldn't be the first, definitely ain't gonna be the last."

"Did... did you just c-call me dawg?" Patrick sounds like he's choking, he's laughing so hard.

"Ok, look..." Nick is starting to get annoyed now.

"No, no, it's fine." He's still snickering. "Man, I don't even think Jay-Z calls me dawg."

"Different worlds, man." Nick stares at the pattern on his rug. Maybe this really wasn't going to work. Because different worlds barely covers it.

"Yeah, no kidding." But Patrick has moved on now. "Okay, so, give me like... a week, week and a half. I'll fix the music on track one, which we need a title for before Pete hears it by accident and assigns it something stupid that will get stuck in my head, and send it back to you. You can fix the vocal based on that?"

"If you fix it right." And maybe he's being a bit of an asshole, challenging someone who's doing him a favour, possibly a life-saving one at that, but Nick's never not had to prove he knows what he's doing, when it was just him.

"I aim to please." There's a definite edge to Patrick's voice, but not so much like he's pissed as like maybe he likes rising to a challenge.

"Cool. I'll be checking my email."

"Later, dude."

Patrick's first effort arrives in Nick's inbox four days later.

Nick listens to Patrick's track a few times before he really decides what he thinks. Once, straight off the computer into his headphones. Another time in the bathroom, which okay, is good for vocals but possibly not as good for fast guitars and crashing drums. He's never had instruments in the bathroom... except the acoustic a couple of times but not for very long because hey, humidity and wood... but it's good to know. He makes a CD out of it and pops it in the stereo, to hear what it sounds like out of really decent speakers. After he's played with the EQ a few times, he's ready to actually think about what Patrick's done.

What Patrick has done is taken the basic melody, and completely rewritten the arrangement. There's piano in the bridge, and if Nick's instincts are right, his vocal starts the song about three bars before anything comes in to accompany it. Which might work if he brought it down real low and intimate, right into the mic.... He sketches out notes on his tablet - Nick's shorthand has a lot more to do with pictures and notes than actual words, so he's learned to just skip the damned keyboard.

Eventually he calls up the lyrics. They scan almost perfectly, but to do what Nick wants to do with the bridge now, he'll have to rewrite it. Maybe switch that line there with that phrase over there and...

Three decent takes later, he's pretty happy with what he's got and fires it off to Patrick. When he looks up from the laptop, the sun is coming up, and Nick's stomach is making noises like he hasn't eaten in a while. He bounces into the kitchen to rustle something up, humming to himself.

Patrick has holed himself up in the back of the bus, tinkering. Nick's second track is good for a raw demo, a huge improvement on the mess that was the first one. That actually makes it harder to fix. There are things here he wants to keep. He deleted the bass line immediately, because even if all he does is replay what Nick had tried to do, that'll be a huge improvement. He'd like to hear what Nick does with a really bitching bass line but maybe not with this song. (And frankly if he needs a really bitching bass line, he'll have to grab someone else to lay it down. Patrick's good, but he's not an expert.)

His biggest problem is either the drums or the song structure. He's not really sure. He glances at the clock - half an hour to soundcheck. Nick's likely to be awake, right? It takes a moment to find his phone in the mess on the various surfaces, but soon he's punching in numbers and waiting for Nick to pick up.

"Yo?" Nick sounds fuzzy, maybe not quite awake. Oh well, he's up now.

"Hey Nick, it's Patrick." He says, trying to sound up-and-at-em authoritative. Or at least 'wake up, this is important'.

"Heyyyy." It's drawn out in a yawn. "Sorry, pulled an all-nighter. What's up?"

"The second song. How married are you to the structure?"

"The structure?" There's movement at the other end. It sounds purposeful, but the confusion in Nick's voice doesn't help Patrick any.

"Yeah." And okay, he's venturing into bitchy now. Maybe he should reign it in. Later. "Like, how would you feel if I broke up verse three, made half of it part of the chorus and half of it just a fade-out at the end?"

"Dude, remind me what song I sent you and I'll be right there."

"File name is "Death to Howies cellphone" which I hope means something to you, because it has fuck all to do with this song."

Nick chuckles into the phone and okay, maybe Patrick can relax a little bit. Who couldn't with that in their ear?

"Oh man. Yeah, there's a story there. Okay. Um, so you want to break up the third verse... how exactly? I mean, if I was going to do it, I'd like, take the first and third lines and pair them with the first and third choruses, but not..."

"...not the one that goes into the bridge. No, I agree, that would totally fuck things up. And I sort of want to kill the fourth line all together."

"Yeah, it's kind of weak. But it's important to like, the idea of the song."

"Title?"

"Could be. I'll think about it." There's an odd tapping sound at the end of the phone. "Hey, have you listened to the first track yet?"

"No, not yet." Patrick admits, glancing at his inbox. "I kind of wanted to fix things first."

"That's cool. I wanted to say, that was kind of awesome, the intro arrangement. I wouldn't have thought of it, but it totally works."

And Patrick can just feel himself going red. "Thanks man. I just... this is your solo album. I wanted to show off your voice."

"My voice ain't nothing special, but I appreciate it. So is that all you're going to do to this baby?"

"No..." Patrick studies his screen. "But I wanted to run that change by you. Now I have to plug it in, see if it works the way I think it will."

"You've got my number dawg..." Patrick can't help it, he snorts. "...dude. Whatever. I'm pretty free this week still, so whenever you want to call."

"Got it." He's half into his studio headspace already so it takes him a second to register what Nick's actually said. "Oh hey. If you can get a copy of your schedule, send it my way, okay? At some point I'm going to need you here in person."

"Yeah because our schedule's not going to change every other hour once they get something finalized. But I'll send it along. If nothing else it'll make Howie happy that I'm paying attention."

"Uh huh." Patrick's moving this section here and that section there and he doesn't realize he hasn't hung up until Nick laughs softly.

"Genius at work, huh? Okay. Keep geniusing. Later dude."

The easy thing would have been to tell Johnny first. Just drop him an email with the dates he and Patrick have come up with, asking to have one run of three days off, hopefully as close to the beginning of October as possible, so he doesn't screw with the promo schedule too badly. But Nick took the easy way with his first album and that blew up in his face, so instead, he gets up early and calls Brian.

Brian's phone rings three times before it's picked up. Nick hears air and possibly traffic before the phone clatters against something. There's a giggle, and Brian's voice calm in the background. Finally, after a little scuffling, an enthusiastic voice says "Hi Unca Nick!"

Nick tries hard not to laugh, he really does. "Hi Baylee!" He answers his sort-of nephew. "Are you answering the phone for Daddy today?"

"Yes!" Baylee declares. "Daddy's not 'lowed to talk on the phone when he's driving."

"No, of course not," Nick agrees solemnly. "He might cause an accident. You're a good guy to help your Daddy out like that."

"Uh huh."

"So where are you and Daddy going today?"

"School!" Nick has to sit down. Because of course Baylee's going to school, he's nearly five. Which means he won't be coming on tour much, which means Brian's going to be missing more than just Kevin this tour. Crap.

"Yeah?" he manages to continue the conversation. "You like school?"

"Uh huh."

"Making lots of friends?"

"Uh huh. Oh! We're here! Bye!" There's another clatter as the phone is dropped. Brian rescues it.

"Nick?" He says, amused. "I'll call you back in twenty."

"You want to take three days out of our schedule so you can go hang out on someone else's bus?" Brian summarizes, once he's heard Nick out. "You think you're gonna need the practice, Frack?"

"Hey, unlike somebody in this conversation I haven't been on tour in... more than a year." Nick leans against his kitchen counter, scratching idly at something that might have been jam.

"Seems longer, don't it?"

"Oh yeah," And okay he's a dork, but Nick can't quite keep the wistful tone out of his voice. He grew up on the road, he's allowed to miss it.

"Is this guy.. what's his name, Patrick? Worth it? You can't just book some studio time?"

"With who?" Nick pushes off from the counter, needing to pace. "I'm not flying over to Sweden, yo. I love Max but I can't go running to him every time I need some help in the studio. Besides, I can't afford him."

"You... what?"

And isn't that a kick in the guts. "I thought everybody knew, man."

"No." Brian gives the one syllable a lot of weight and Nick knows he has to cut him off before Brian decides to make a Phone Call.

"Patrick's great. We've got a couple of songs together already, but it'll be easier to do some work in person. And he's not just some dude. He's like... a prod... prog... genius. He's produced like, four or five albums already, plus the stuff he does for his own group."

Nick can still hear Brian thinking. "Frick. Lemme have this. Just... I know I'm not some hotshot writer, and the album won't come out until after we're done touring anyway, but... it's been a tough summer. Patrick's got my back, I swear."

"You'll remember to dress warm, and eat right?" Nick rolls his shoulders, letting the tension fall away.

"Sure, Dad. Will you talk to Howie for me? I'll email Johnny and talk to Aje."

"Sure, leave me with the hard job." Brian teases.

"Hey, you're the grown-up." He shoots back.

"Don't remind me."

"So Baylee's in school, now?"

"I can still kick your ass, Nickolas!" Nick cackles, then settles in for a long update on the state of the (first) Backstreet Baby.

Patrick manages to keep the whole thing from Pete for like two weeks, which has to be some kind of record. It might have something to do with the fact that Patrick isn't actively keeping it a secret. He knows Pete is going to tease him forever about it, and usually he just tells Pete to get the teasing over with, but he's just too busy working on Nick's album to actually talk about it.

But one afternoon Pete grabs him as they finish soundcheck. "I haven't seen you in like, a week, dude. Come walk Hemmy with me."

"I'm pretty sure that was you staring at me all through Me and You last night." He offers as token protest, but puts his guitar away amiably enough.

"Shut up, Lunchbox. There has been no quality hanging out, PeteandPatrick time in way too long. My dog misses you." And Pete is right in his face when Patrick straightens up, so apparently it's going to be one of those afternoons. Sure enough, Pete drops a kiss on his cheek, and then grabs his hands, pulling and walking backwards. Patrick rolls his eyes, to remind Pete that normal people do not pull this sort of shit, but it's token and Pete knows it. If he was normal he wouldn't be Pete, and then where would Patrick be?

They (meaning Pete) manage to finagle their way away from the arena and out to a local park, the new security guy trailing behind them. If it was Charlie, he'd probably be right there in the middle of the conversation, but it's not Charlie anymore and that's kind of weird. Patrick makes a note to ask Nick if there's some sort of etiquette for dealing with strangers who are in charge of your security. Nick has apparently never been on a tour where pretty much everyone involved is someone you grew up with, so he knows that sort of thing.

"So," Pete says, bumping his hip. "I hear you're holed up in your bedroom all hours. I know the Starship record's pretty much done - what gives?"

"Do you get like, daily reports from Andy?" It's an old joke, but he makes it because he likes to hear Pete's answer.

"Nah, hourly." Pete smiles at him, but his eyes are serious. "New girlfriend?"

Patrick ducks his head, shakes it. "New project."

"Yeah? Am I forgetting something I hooked you up with? Being a shitty mogul again? Or did you pick this one up by yourself?"

"This one's mine, mostly." He has to grin. "But it's sort of your fault, so don't yell at me."

"He's going out and getting his own projects! My baby boy is all grown up!" Pete's voice raises dramatically and his arms are going and okay, people are looking now and Patrick's not ready to be interrupted.

"Shut up, fucker." He grabs at Pete's hand, interlaces their fingers. "Hemmy needs his walk."

"Whatever. Like, deny me my moment. Fucker." But he doesn't let go of Patrick's hand either. "So, like, who is it? Who could be so terrible I'd yell? You're not producing for like, The Killers, are you? Because that would be awesome."

"It's, uh, Nick Carter."

Pete stops dead, and ow, that's Patrick's wrist. "Nick Carter?" Pete's blinking at him, kind of stunned, and okay this is sort of fun, "Like, the Backstreet Boy?"

"You know any other Nick Carters?"

"I was kind of hoping you might." Hemingway comes back to investigate the cause of the interruption and Patrick crouches to scratch behind his ears.

"Like I said, your fault, Pete. If you hadn't decided it was the best idea ever to freak out Spencer..."

"Fuck off, that was the best idea ever. The look on his face... and Brendon." Pete crows. "Seriously, Panic is never going to live this down and I have it on video. Ryan Ross is mine forever."

"Yeah well. As a result of your "best idea ever", I got talking to the guy. He's working on his second solo album, and I said I'd help him out."

"For real? You're not just saying this to give me a heart attack?" Pete cocks his head to the side, studying him.

"Fuck you. You've got to admit he was good that night."

"Yeah, but your level?" Pete's confidence in Patrick's musical genius is never ending and Patrick loves him for it, as much as he takes it with a huge grain of salt. "He's a Backstreet Boy."

"If you're about to call me a sell-out, Wentz, this conversation ends now." Because really, of all the people to know there's more behind someone than what the press puts out...

Fortunately, Pete does get this. "No! Fuck, no, Patrick. I mean, you say he's good enough to work with you, I'll trust your judgement. But wow. You gotta admit it's a little freaky."

"Yeah well. It's gonna get freakier when he's on tour with us for three days week after next."

"Wait, WHAT?" Patrick bites back a laugh. If he'd known working with Nick would get him that look on Pete's face, he might have told Pete days ago.

Once there's an actual date that Nick is going to join the tour, things between them get a lot more relaxed. Nick dumps a full ten tracks of material in Patrick's lap, and laughs when Patrick grumbles about slave labour. Meanwhile, their phone calls actually wander off topic once in a while. Still mainly about music, but Patrick doesn't feel he has to be professional and hold back in his geeking over Bowie anymore.

He and Nick spend about an hour singing classic Michael Jackson tracks back and forth to each other, which leads to Nick talking about going with his younger brother so he could record at Michael's house. Patrick's somewhat inappropriate comment about parents who let underage children visit Neverland clearly strikes a nerve with Nick, who responds with "Yeah, well my parents never won any prizes for model parenting, that's for sure."

The bitterness dripping from that one sentence makes it easy for Patrick to talk about his own parents, (and, incidentally, to arrange one of Nick's almost cryptic songs a little more effectively) and then his high school years. It's a topic they come back to a couple of times over the month - Nick has an odd penchant for stories about real high school.

"I'd probably've ended up pretty much like you, dude." He reveals one afternoon while Patrick is waiting for some photographer to get their shit together. "'Cept an art geek instead of music."

"You?" Patrick tries to picture it and fails utterly. "Not like, the football team? Or basketball or something?"

"Nah. I mean, maybe somebody would've talked me into something, but back then it was all video games and drawing comic books. My sport was swimming, but I dunno if I'd race or anything. Scuba's more my thing."

"Yeah? With dolphins and shit?" Which sets Nick off on one of his favourite topics - the water. He can and does go on for hours. One day, after looking over one too many of Nick's attempts at love songs, Patrick eventually asks him why he hasn't written any songs about it.

"You think I should, dawg?" It's at least the hundredth time he's used that term and it's still funny. "Oh fuck you, Stump."

"Sorry, sorry. But yeah. I mean, you feel pretty strongly about it, you've got lots to say. Think about it, maybe when you're here we can work on something."

"That'd be cool. Yeah, maybe." Patrick can hear him nodding. It's just adding to their workload in the very few hours they're realistically going to have together, even if one of those days is a day off for Patrick, but he finds himself looking forward to it.

Less than a week before Nick arrives, they finally start talking in practicals. "So where am I sleeping, dude? Is there room for me, or am I gonna be sleeping on the floor of the bus, get stepped on every morning?"

One of Andy's friends is bunking with Pete and Joe for the duration, poor sap, so there is a bunk free, but Patrick's still sort of dubious about the arrangement.

"Do you even fit in a bunk?" He asks skeptically. In theory, he knows William is taller than Nick, and he must find some way to fit in a bunk, but Nick doesn't strike Patrick as quite so bendy as William. Of course Patrick's never met anyone as bendy as William Beckett. The point is, Nick is a big, solid guy, and bunks are a tiny, confining space.

"Oh shut up, Yoda." This is Nick's new nickname for Patrick. Patrick hasn't quite decided if he likes it yet, and makes a token noise of protest. "I was living on a bus when you were, like, ten. I am an expert at bus-life, yo."

Again, something Patrick knows, sort of, but no matter how many times he has to explain something totally normal about high school to Nick, it doesn't seem real. Patrick spent plenty of time in cruddy vans during high school, but not so much that he actually missed high school altogether. Nick's been living, well, a similar life to this one, for a lot longer than even Pete has. He makes another vague listening noise, and snuggles deeper into the large bed he'd been very thankful to score when he and Andy got a separate bus.

"Is there anything you need me to pick up?" It's an off-hand comment, but sort of sweet. Actually it reminds Patrick of something his mom might ask. He tries to ignore that thought.

"Um... if you have a favourite bus board game, we're starting to get bored already."

"Board games were never really our thing..." Nick's version of a thinking noise slides into Patrick's ear. He's falling asleep, there's no doubt about it, and he should really hang up. Soon. "Dominoes?"

"Sounds good." He can't quite suppress a yawn.

"You're falling asleep on me, huh?" Nick sounds almost fond.

"Long day." Patrick admits. This isn't the first post-concert chat they've had, but usually it's an urgent conversation about music and Patrick's a lot more focused. Today there was a hell of a lot of press, and a photoshoot involving a trampoline of all things, and since Nick's going to be there in like, three days, he doesn't feel too guilty about wimping out tonight.

"I'll quit bugging you then. Can't have my producer losing out on his sleep."

"See you in..." Patrick isn't quite sure what city he's in now, much less where he's going to be in three days.

"Seattle. 'Night Patrick. If you dream up Yesterday I want dibs."

"Mmmm, sorry dude. Pete's got first rights."

Nick's soft laughter follows him down into sleep.



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