for Joeynerd: Merry Christmas

Nick loves Disneyworld, the bustle and the noise and the large crowds of people who don't recognize him.

Anyone can be anonymous there, just one person among the hundreds, waiting, just like everyone else, to ride Space Mountain or get a picture snapped with Mickey.

It's sunny, a soft breeze is blowing, and God, Nick loves Orlando, the sand and the salt spray in the air and the smell of hot dogs and roasted peanuts.

It was here that he first met Howie, AJ, probably even Kevin, though he doesn't remember that. He doesn't really remember Howie and AJ from then, either, although he knew them enough to recognize them when he made the band, but they were strangers here, just like him, singing, performing. AJ's done the puppet show for him once or twice, after losing a bet, and Nick has sung Hungry Eyes in a wavering falsetto. Not quite the same key as when he was pre-pubescent, but close enough.

The staff, if he ever really knew any of them, are different, of course. It's been ten years. There's no way the guy sweating inside the Goofy costume is the same man Nick once threw up on. Karma, he thinks, and follows him to a backlot anyway. Slips him a twenty.

* * *

Jane tugged on Nick's collar, straightening his tie. "You're gonna be great," she said, "knock 'em dead," but what she really meant was knock 'em dead or I'll knock your block off, without the actual physical threat. She'd never hit any of them, although sometimes Nick thought he'd prefer it to going without dinner or being locked in the closet. Nick hated the dark.

"Mom," he whined, and pulled away from her. Her nails dug into his arm, so he said, "Where'd BJ go?"

BJ and Leslie were supposed to be with them, while his dad took the twins.

"Shit." Jane whipped around and spotted Leslie sitting alone on the bench where she'd left the girls, kicking at the ground. "Leslie! Where's your sister?"

Leslie shrugged. "She went off with some girls to the bathroom, I think."

"Were they smoking?"

"I dunno."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I turn my back for one minute -- Leslie, stay here," she said. "Nick . . ."

"I know," Nick said. "I'll be good."

"That's my boy."

He sat next to Leslie, kicking a pebble particularly far. She glared at him, and kicked a bigger rock, pouting when it stopped only a few inches from her foot. Nick was about to kick again when a man sat next to him. He scooted closer to Leslie, wrapping a protective arm around his sister.

"Are you lost?" the guy said.

"No. Go away."

"I'm just asking because I noticed you didn't have any parents around."

"Our mom went to the bathroom."

"So you're okay? Usually there aren't unattended kids --"

"I'm not a kid," Nick said. "And I belong here, anyway. I'm a performer."

"Really? Me too." The guy smiled, transforming his whole face, and stuck out a hand. "I'm Howie," he said.

"I'm Nick. What do you do?"

"I sing," Howie said. He was about to continue when a brown-haired kid a few years older than Nick bounded over.

"Hi!"

"Hey AJ," Howie said. "Nick, this is AJ. J, this is Nick. And." Howie paused. "Nick's sister," he said.

"Leslie," she whispered. Nick grinned, and nudged her.

"Leslie," Howie said.

"What'd you two do?"

"Leslie doesn't do anything," Nick said, ignoring her when she poked him. "I sing," he said.

"Me too, sometimes." AJ bounced. "I do puppets, too. I'm gonna kick *ass* today."

Nick scowled. "Whatever," he said. "I gotta go now. Come on, Les."

"Good luck!" Howie called as Nick dragged his sister towards the stage. He, at least, seemed kind of nice.

"You'll need it!" AJ shouted, and Nick tugged harder on Leslie's arm.

"Nick," she said. "Nick, you're hurting me."

"I am not," Nick said, and pulled her behind a tree, out of sight of Howie and AJ. "Let me see." He rolled her sleeve up, ignoring her when she tried to pull away. "Let me *see*, Les."

A bruise spread across her's arm, too yellow to be from Nick. Last week, Leslie had come home with a note from her singing instructor. She hadn't made the play, because she'd been too shy, had blown her audition. Nick had worked with her for ages, singing with her, but she couldn't do it in front of grown-ups. In front of their mom.

The bruise spanned her skinny arm, four fingers, and a thumb, too big to come from Nick.

The five hot dogs he'd eaten earlier rose up in his throat, his stomach cramped and he spun away from Leslie, losing his lunch.

* * *

He's afraid of flying, scared stiff, used to take Advil and a glass of whiskey before AJ entered rehab, but somehow, on a roller coaster speeding towards water, he finds that same euphoric bliss that Kevin talks about getting from sitting in a cockpit. As expensive as Disneyworld is, it's still a lot cheaper than renting an airplane.

The drive from Tampa sucks, but he goes as often as he can, anyway. He thinks of Saturday mornings, years ago, crammed in the van with his sisters and Aaron, slow-roasting from the sun while BJ continually asked "Are we there yet?" and Angel appropriated his shoulder. He smiles, and remembers later visits, Kevin's last minute "We Need Fun Before We Break For The Holidays" trips, stuck between Brian and AJ and wanting desperately for it to be over and for it to never end, for the five of them to be *there*, but together, a family, stuck with each other over Christmas.

* * *

Nick squirmed in the backseat. "Howie," he whined. "Howie, make them stop."

"Don't whine," Kevin said. Nick could practically hear his fingers tighten on the steering wheel.

"But I'm squished," he said. "Make them get off me."

Howie twisted around in his seat and laughed.

"It's not funny," Nick said. Brian was slouched against his right shoulder. His legs sprawled in the space behind Howie's seat, so that Nick's right leg was forced onto the hump. AJ had not only taken over his left shoulder, he'd slung an arm across Nick's stomach.

"It really is."

Nick chose not to dignify him with a response. "Hey, Kev?" he said instead.

"Nick," Kevin said, "if the words that are about to come out of your mouth involve any riff on the phrase 'are we there yet,' I advise you to shut up. "

Nick slouched back against his seat. He'd thought the drive to Disney from Tampa sucked, but at least he got a window then. Besides, they should've been famous enough to get a limo, even if they were going for a vacation and not to do publicity.

"AJ has to sit in the middle on the way back," he said.

"You made that perfectly clear," Kevin said, "the first seventeen times you said it."

Nick sighed. If he didn't get to ride Space Mountain at *least* ten times, someone was going to pay.

* * *

When they finally arrived, waited through the lines, and entered the Magic Kingdom, the first thing they did, every single time, was go to the Flying Dumbos. It was Angel's favorite ride, and until she'd been on it once she'd whine and complain and drive his dad half-crazy.

Even now, when he's way too big, he finds himself walking there first, using the Dumbos as home base.

* * *

Nick slouched against a signpost proclaiming a twenty-minute wait for Big Thunder and pulled his baseball cap a little lower on his head. It was his third date, his first in a long, long time, especially in public, and he was positive he looked incredibly stupid. And stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Relax," Joey said, voice low in Nick's ear. "You're only gonna make it worse by fidgeting."

"There're so many *people*," Nick said.

Joey shrugged. "They see what they want to."

"They want to see me."

"Actually, they want to see Justin," he said grinning.

Nick made a face and smacked him.

"Okay, okay. But they're not *looking* for you. They're not wandering around Disneyworld thinking about us. They're thinking about what ride to go on next, or whether they can convince their parents to buy them a Minnie Mouse doll, or how much junk food they can eat without hurling."

"I guess," Nick said.

"You do look nice in the hat, though," Joey said. He tugged Nick close, wrapped an arm around his waist. "One might even say cute."

Nick leaned back against him. "Might one go so far as hot?"

"One probably wouldn't," Joey said, and his voice dropped low, sweet and slow and full of molasses, caressing Nick's ear. "But I would."

* * *

Briahna loves Disney nearly as much as Nick does.

She's too young for the greater majority of the rides, and inevitably Kelly will walk with her through stores or play carnival games while Joey and Nick hit the coasters, but the Flying Dumbos are just about right. The high-pitched giggle that carries down to Nick as he waits for her to land makes it all worthwhile.

When the ride ends, every time, she'll wave her hands and demand, "Nicky," and Joey or Kel will hand her over.

"Hey, baby girl," he says, lifting her, "did you have fun? Did you fly, like an airplane?" He holds her sideways, and twirls around. "SuperBree!" he says, and she laughs again, closer this time, and happily bats his nose.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Joey said. He winced as his voice cracked. "You were gone," he said. "I missed you, and I got drunk, and lonely, and stupid."

"Stupider," Nick said.

"Stupider."

"I'm not ready to be a father," Nick said, and Joey winced again.

"Me neither," he whispered.

"Joe. Joe, I--"

"No, it's okay. I didn't expect you to want to raise my kid, I just. I needed to tell you in person." Joey looked at his hands. "I'm scared," he said. Nick barely heard him over the screams from Splash Mountain. "I don't want to lose you."

"Joey," Nick said, "you're an idiot."

"I know--"

"No, you don't know." Nick moved closer, right up into Joey's face, and started ticking off points on his fingers. "First, you bring me here, to one of my favorite places, which could have ruined the magic for me, you idiot. Second, you need to tell me in person, but you make sure it's a public place, to avoid a scene, which is really not going to put me in a good mood, you idiot. Third, there is no way in hell, you complete and utter *moron*, that you are *ever* going to lose me."

"You said."

"I'm angry," Nick said. "I'm angry, and I'm hurt, and yes, I said, I'm not ready to be a father. That doesn't mean I'm just going to abandon our baby. Do you have any idea how much Kevin and AJ would kill me? Not to mention my mother, who is *dying* for grandkids--"

"You said our baby," Joey said, smiling.

"Yeah," Nick said. "Well. She'll need another man around so her only role model isn't an idiot."

"Mmm," Joey said, sliding a hand under Nick's t-shirt. "That's why she has me."

* * *

They take two cars, so Kelly can leave in the afternoon, when Bree is overtired and her skin is flushed from the sun and joy.

Joey kisses her goodbye before she leaves, and then it's Nick's turn, a big wet sticky popsicle kiss, half on his lips and half on his chin, and they nuzzle noses and Bree is too sleepy to squeal. "Nicky," she says. "Bye bye."

"Bye bye, Bree," he says, and slips a hand in Joey's back pocket as Kelly walks away.

* * *

Nick dragged AJ to the park after their tour ended, after he finished an extra week in rehab, a grace week.

AJ had been serious lately, not just on his best behavior but actually serious, about everything, desperate to win back their trust and deserve their love. Before that, he had been drunk.

It had been a long time since they rode in the teacups and watched the Electrical Parade.

Nick sipped his coke and examined AJ, as the fireworks lit his face in spurts of blue and green and yellow.

When he was eleven, he and BJ had snuck away from their parents and disappeared into the crowd, watching the parade with strangers. The explosions had seemed huge, loud, promises of something to come.

That was them, that was Nick, flashing across the sky in a sharp bang and burst of color. Someday he would have his moment, and everyone would stare, transfixed, and ooh and ahh, and his mother would wonder where he was, when he'd left her back on earth.

"Having fun?" he asked.

AJ nodded. "Yeah," he said, his cheeks red from the lighting, from his blush. "I am."

* * *

It's a well-known fact that the employees who dress as characters aren't allowed to break costume, even on break, lest a child see them and the magic be ruined.

It's not so well known, unless you're on a show, or happen to be exploring and trying not to let your four younger siblings follow you, that there are places on the backlots, alcoves and empty rooms and giant palm trees, perfect for shoving your boyfriend up against and kissing him deeply.

Nick can remember the first time he saw a couple making out, still dressed like Aladdin and Jasmine, and maybe he met Kevin back then after all, but all he can recall thinking is that he wanted that, wanted the thrill of sneaking away and making out at Disneyworld, where the whole world was watching and no one could see.

He pushes Joey deeper into the shadows, trails his tongue across a hint of stubble, nibbles Joey's jaw. He loves the taste of Joey's skin, salty warm from sweat and sun, loves the textures as he licks his way up Joey's cheek, kisses the ridge of his ear, the corner of his eye. Joey's hands are hot against his waist, steadying him, steadying both of them, and Nick hums happily.

He loves Disneyworld, and Walt and Michael Eisner and all the faceless people who don't know he's here. He loves Kelly, and Bree, and Dumbo, and overpriced dolls of Mickey Mouse. He loves Space Mountain, and afternoons remembering his childhood, making new memories. And Joey.

Joey scrapes teeth across his collarbone, pulls him closer, and Nick explodes.