Thanks go to the fabulous, the fantastic, the one-of-a-kind Eddie for beta, and to Velma and Kelilah for letting me throw snippets at their heads while I wrote, and not yelling at me for wanting to kick Nick and stuff. ::mwah::

If you want to know
If he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is
-The Shoop Shoop Song

What bothered Kevin was not so much that Kris had left, as what she had left behind.

Him.

Alone.

He hadn't told anyone about the separation, because. Well, Howie had his million and one businesses, and Nick had his solo career, and Brian had his baby, and AJ had his wedding, and here he was, getting divorced.

And, apparently, turning into a woman.

He should've figured Kris would tell someone, he supposed, except that mostly what he'd been thinking since she left was that if he could think at all he wasn't drunk enough. And it turned out he had a much lower tolerance now, being fucking female and all, so he could stay pleasantly plastered for quite some time.

"Fuck," Nick said, and Kevin couldn't remember when Nick had arrived, much less two of him, but there they were, "don't you know better than to drink alone?"

"You're not here," Kevin said. He was quite sure of this fact.

"Oh no?" Nick sounded amused. Both of him.

"No," Kevin said firmly. "You're a. A delusion. A creation of my inebri-briated brain. Because you're really in London, or something. And you," he turned to the Nick on the right, "you're in L.A. New York? I don't know. But you're not here. You're promoting."

"I'm here," Nick said gently. He took one of Kevin's arms, and the other Nick took the other, and the next thing Kevin knew he was being carried into the bathroom.

"I don't wanna shower," he said as Nick started to undress him. He was being petulant, and he was only ever petulant with his family, never the guys, but he was at home, and Nick wasn't really there anyway, so he was allowed. Plus, he was divorced.

"Holy FUCK!" Nick said.

And female.

* * *

He was pretty sober by the time the guys could get there -- with a hangover, but through the searing pain he felt every time he opened his eyes, he could tell there was only one Nick present. He didn't ask what happened to the other one.

"You okay?" AJ asked, and that was pretty much the dumbest question Kevin had heard all week. "Oh, hey," AJ said, and slipped an arm around Kevin's shoulders, "hey now, don't cry."

"I'm not," Kevin snapped. "Just because I'm a fucking girl it doesn't mean I'm a fucking *girl*."

"Woman, man, or dancing bear, you're still divorced," AJ said. He rubbed Kevin's arm lightly.

"It was. We had reasons," Kevin said. "Good reasons," he said.

AJ shifted a little closer. "Still hurts like fuck all, though, don't it?"

Kevin nodded, feeling miserable. His heart ached, his head ached, his eyes were *killing* him, and -- "Hey!" He grabbed AJ's hand and had it twisted around before he knew what he was doing.

"Fuck! Kev, ow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You felt me up," Kevin said.

"I won't," AJ said, "never again. I'm sor--ow!"

"You got me upset," Kevin said, twisting harder, "and pretended to comfort me, and fucking felt. me. up."

"Don't break his hand," Brian said. "He'll need it, after you tell Sarah."

"Shit!" AJ said, "Kev, Kev, please. I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, don't tell, please don't tell."

Kevin released his wrist, but continued to glare at him. "I thought you were happy with her."

"I am," AJ said. "It's just, you know. You were right there. And, I mean." AJ gestured with his hands. "*Right* there."

Kevin narrowed his eyes. "So, what? What are you saying?"

AJ coughed. Howie and Brian glanced at each other.

"You," Brian said.

"She's your cousin," Howie said.

"He!" Kevin said. "*He*'s Brian's cousin! I'm still a he!"

"Kevin," Brian said. "Kevin. Listen to what I'm about to say in the full knowledge that if you hurt me, my mother will beat you down, okay? You can think of yourself as a he all you like, but, Jesus Christ, man. You've got breasts."

"And no dick," Nick added. The other three stared at him. "What?" he said defensively. "Someone had to make him shower and change."

"You let Nick strip you," AJ said, "and didn't break *his* wrist?"

"Your wrist's not broken. And Nick didn't feel me up."

"Nick's gay."

"I am not!"

AJ snorted. "You stripped a woman down, tossed her in the shower, dried her off, dressed her, and didn't feel her up once?"

"I'm not a woman!" Kevin shouted. "I'm NOT!"

"Okay," Howie said soothingly. He wrapped an arm around Kevin, carefully avoiding his chest, and swept a hand up and down his back. "We know," he said.

"I'm not," Kevin said, but he dropped his head to Howie's shoulder anyway, and let himself be soothed.

"Chicks," AJ muttered. Brian smacked his shoulder.

"It's just." Kevin swallowed, trying to gain control of his emotions, because even if he *was* going through a divorce, he was still. Him. It was only hormones, because women, women had hormones, raging ones, that was all. And he didn't need to break down in front of the guys, or anything, even if his wife had left him and his dick had left him and the one would never return and the other was gone indefinitely. "What are we gonna do?" he asked.

"It's gonna be cool," Nick said. "I've got everything figured out."

AJ turned a snort into a cough when Nick glared at him.

"See," Nick said, "we just get you fake ID, we can call you, I dunno, like, Katherine, or something. And we say you're a dancer, and that's how you met us, and you can come on tour with me as my girlfriend, so you don't have to be alone."

"What will Kevin Richardson be doing?" Howie asked. "This isn't gonna help the break-up rumors."

"Kevin Richardson is taking the opportunity of the break to return to the wilds of Kentucky, to his boyhood home, and commune with nature."

"You make him sound like a freak," Brian said, grinning.

"Well, yeah." Nick winked. "It *is* Kevin"

"Shut up," Kevin muttered.

AJ rubbed his wrist resentfully. "This how you treat *all* your boyfriends?" he said.

Nick hit his shoulder. "Lay off my girl."

"Fuck you both," Kevin said. "I'm dating Howie."

Howie squeaked, and pulled away. "You're a girl," he said.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Be gay." He turned to Nick, swallowed, and asked, "When does your tour start?"

"Next week, in Tampa." Nick kissed him on the cheek. "See you then, Pumpkin."

Kevin pinched his arm. "Katherine," he said.

"Katherine."

"Man," AJ said, "your girlfriend is a bitch."

* * *

"Okay," Nick said when Kevin showed up at his house, "you can't be my girlfriend if you're gonna dress like that."

"I always dress like this," Kevin said.

"Yeah," Nick said. "I know." He handed Kevin his cellphone. "Call AJ," he said, "or Howie. Or better yet, both of them. You need a major make-over."

"You're being awfully picky," Kevin said.

"You *smell*," Nick said. "Did you even shower after I left?"

"Yes," Kevin said. He had, too. With his clothes on, because he couldn't bear to look in the mirror, but he'd washed his hair -- all eighteen inches of it, because it had grown out at a tremendous rate, and he only hoped it slowed down, or the guys would be calling him Godiva instead of Katherine. But he'd showered, anyway, and technically he'd washed his clothing, too.

"Call them," Nick said.

"Nick."

"Call them."

"Nickolas Gene Carter, let me inside this instant."

Nick crossed his arms, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. "Make me," he said.

Kevin shoved him, but Nick didn't budge. He'd known Nick was bigger, had been working out, but he ought to have been able to move him anyway. Except he was a girl. A fucking *girl*.

He contemplated kneeing Nick in the groin, but it wasn't Nick's fault he still had a dick.

He tried tickling, but Nick grabbed his wrists and held them over his head -- and promptly made a face. "Shave your armpits, man," he said. "And your legs -- I bet you didn't shave your legs. And Ke-Katherine?"

"*What*?"

"Call them."

* * *

Shopping for bras was the most humiliating experience of his life.

It turned out he was a B cup, which was pretty good for someone who had been a guy a week ago, but not exactly stacked, as AJ reminded him repeatedly. And loudly.

On top of that, Howie insisted that he had to get matching underwear, "because Nick likes that."

"I'm not actually dating Nick, you know."

"I know," Howie said. "Get them anyway."

"But--"

"Dude," AJ said. "Don't argue with Howie over lingerie. Speaking of which, check this out." He held up a short, black, lacy teddy.

"I'm not wearing that," Kevin said flatly.

"Duh," AJ said. "It isn't for you."

"*You're* not wearing that," Kevin said.

"Spoilsport."

"It's *women's* *lingerie*," Kevin said. "You are *not* wearing it."

"I bet I'd fill it out better 'n you cou--ow!"

"Be an asshole," Kevin said, "and I'll treat you like one."

"He wasn't this much of a prick when he was male," AJ muttered to Howie as Kevin paid.

"He was married and had a dick," Howie said. "Besides. When's the last time he could possibly have gotten laid?"

AJ thought about that. They all knew Kristen's favorite way to punish Kevin while fighting was to withhold sexual favors. He watched the checker carefully fold matching underwear, and turned an appraising eye to Howie.

"I give it a week," he said.

Howie snorted. "*Nick*," he said. "Five days."

"Fifty bucks?"

"Dinner out."

AJ held out his hand, and Howie shook it.

* * *

"I don't see why I need a dress," Kevin said. He already had four new pairs of jeans, five pairs of slacks that apparently varied from casual to chic to dressy, socks, shoes, and more tops than he had ever owned in all of his years as a guy put together.

"There's gonna be a lot of press," AJ said. "You need to do Nick proud."

"I'm not wearing a dress in *public*!"

"You wore a skirt," Howie said.

"That's different. That was showing outrage at gender inequalities, and expressing my inner femininity."

"Well, now you can express your outer femininity," AJ said cheerfully. He handed Kevin a short black satin dress, A-line with spaghetti straps. "Go try this on."

"And this," Howie said, handing him a long red velvet dress.

Kevin rolled his eyes, but disappeared into the back of the store anyway.

"Do you think sundresses?" AJ asked.

"I'm not sure. They could show off his legs, or they could make him look lanky."

"Hmmm. Well, you look through these. I'm gonna check out the skirt suits. Knowing Kev --"

"Kat," Howie said.

"Kat, he -- she'll want to look smart."

Kevin's voice floated out from the dressing rooms. "Howie!"

"Yes?"

"Can you finish zipping?"

Howie rolled his eyes, and stepped behind the curtain.

"How's it look?" AJ asked.

There was a long moment of silence, then Kevin pulled the curtain back.

AJ swallowed. "Shit."

Howie grinned. "I like Italian," he said.

* * *

The make-over was pretty much like every time in his entire life that people had put make-up on him, although to be fair they were using less of it this time. As punishment, Kevin had made Howie and AJ buy him food, but eventually even AJ got tired, and they dropped him back on Nick's doorstep.

Kevin looked down at his denim skirt and tank top. He wasn't sure this was an image he wanted to project around Nick. For one thing, he felt a lot more comfortable with his role as older brother when he could pretend he looked like a guy. And then, of course, he didn't want to reinforce negative gender stereotypes. Or show off *quite* so much of his stomach.

He rang the doorbell.

"You'd better look a fuck of a lot bet --" Nick pulled the door open and stared at him. His mouth worked silently through several half-words, finally settling on "Hi." Kevin looked at him suspiciously. There was a hint of drool on his lips.

"Hi," he said. "Go help AJ and Howie with the bags." He shouldered his way past Nick and flopped onto the couch.

"Hi," AJ and Howie said. They grinned, and nudged each other.

"Um," Nick said.

"Alexander!" Kevin called from the living room. His voice was filled with frustration. "I can't get these stupid shoes off!"

"Your girlfriend," AJ said. He and Howie started pulling shopping bags out of the car, while Nick, his face drained of all color, went inside.

Kevin stretched out his legs, dropping his feet in Nick's lap. "Fix," he said. Nick wrapped a gentle hand around his ankle, and started fumbling with the straps.

"Some place expensive," Howie whispered.

"I know, Howard."

"I don't want the Olive Garden."

"Have I ever, in my life, ever expressed interest in the Olive Garden?"

"No," Howie said suspiciously, "but when I wanted seafood you took me to Red Lobster."

"Red Lobster is good!" AJ said indignantly. He placed the last shopping bag indoors, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Until he saw Kevin standing at the door in a tiny skirt, midriff bare, wisps of loose hair framing his face, Nick had pretty much been all right with the whole thing.

It had been a shock, stripping his oldest brother and finding a woman instead, but Nick was nothing if not resourceful, and when all was said and done, it was Kevin, not some girl, and he didn't think he could be attracted to Kevin if his life depended on it. Kevin was cool and all, a good guy to have on his side, and he loved him more than anything, but he was *Kevin*.

Except suddenly he wasn't.

Suddenly he had soft, smooth legs, expanses of pale, pale skin, dark hair, and green, green eyes. Suddenly he wore miniskirts and short shorts and sundresses and instead of combat boots he had brown suede lace-ups, with two-inch heels, that he wore all day, that he would tug off at night and then make Nick massage his feet. Suddenly, when he wore boxers and a button-down shirt (stolen, Nick suspected, from *his* closet), with the sleeves rolled up, a pen between his teeth while he went over schedules, it was a whole lot more. Something.

He was still bossy, he still nagged at Nick to clean up, he was still a dork who followed the Wildcats and called the Bucs stupid and denied Nick the right to even be the teensiest bit a Yankee fan based on birthplace, but somehow. Somehow it was different now.

Somehow, when Kat came downstairs to leave for the tour kick-off party, wearing a black satin dress with a slit up one thigh, emerald earrings, and a pendant that lay loose against the hollow of his throat, gold and green on white, creamy skin, somehow he wasn't Kevin at all.

"Wow," Nick said.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said. "The sooner the party's over, the sooner I can come back and sleep."

Nick held the door for him, and didn't think of Kat in a t-shirt and boxers, tossing restlessly under cotton sheets, skin flushed with sleep.

"Ready when you are," he said.

* * *

Alicia bounced up to him, her eyes brimming with excitement. "Nick! This is *so* *cool*! Have I told you how cool--oh, hey. I'm Alicia. Who're you?" She held a hand out to Kat.

"Ke-Katherine."

Suddenly conscious of keeping up appearances, Nick rested a hand on Kat's back, just the way Kevin had shown him when teaching them all ballroom. Kat started to shift away, but when Alicia raised an eyebrow, Nick threw caution to the wind and slid his hand all the way around Kat's waist.

"Cool," Alicia said. "Another girl on tour'll rock." She grinned at Nick, recovering her composure. "This whole *thing* is gonna rock."

Danny came over, slinging an arm across her shoulder and taking a long pull on his beer. "*We* rock," he said unsteadily. He saw Kat, and his eyes widened. "Hey there," he said. "I, uh. I'm Danny."

Nick's eyes narrowed. "This is Kat," he said, pulling her closer, "my girlfriend."

"Hey, man, no problem. I didn't know you had a girl."

"Well, I do."

"Danny," Alicia said, "get me a beer?"

"Sure," he said. He leered at Kat. "Nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy the tour. We rock," he said, and wandered back to the bar.

"Sorry," Alicia said. "He's a lot better when he isn't drunk."

"People usually are," Kat said.

Nick rubbed a circle on her waist with his thumb.

She had a very soft waist.

* * *

"So how're things going on the tour front?" Brian asked.

Nick shifted the cell to his left hand and took a bite of pizza. "Ktsprtfckkllmnow."

"Sorry," Brian said, "I think I've lost my full-mouth Nickspeak translation abilities."

Nick swallowed. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know," Brian said. "I suck. So what were you saying about my cousin?" Nick flushed, and swiveled around to make sure the room was clear, even though he knew Alicia had dragged Kat out for a day of girl bonding.

"Nick?"

"She's, you know, like, kind of. Pretty? Maybe?" Nick said.

"Nick."

"I know." Nick put the pizza down. "I'm fucked," he said. Then he realized that could be misinterpreted and said, "except, you know, without any of the sex."

He could practically hear Brian's grin over the phone line. "I know."

"It's just," Nick said, "she's always wearing these, like, totally non-existant clothes, you know? And then even when she's wearing actual fabric, and not, like, a bikini or som--Bri?"

The choking noise on the other end of the line finally ground to a halt after about five minutes, and Brian managed to get out, "he's my cousin, Frack."

"He's fucking hot," Nick said.

* * *

Nick was doing a lot of things like coming up behind Kevin and fastening his necklace for him.

It was part of the charade, of course, had to look like Nick's girlfriend, except that Nick was doing it even when they were in private.

It wasn't like they had a huge sense of personal space or anything, or at least, they hadn't, but it had been different, before.

Before, Nick had been bigger than him, but he hadn't felt quite so. large and muscled and it hadn't made Kevin shiver, and Kevin shivering hadn't made Nick wrap him close, a splayed hand on his stomach, and murmur "cold?" in Kevin's ear.

It hadn't made Kevin want to stay there.

* * *

The curtain call ended, the first concert, and Nick grinned and waved and bowed, jumped up and down, and bounded off-stage, and Kevin was proud and happy and as excited as Nick.

That was his boy out there.

He hugged Nick tightly, and when Nick picked him up, spun him around, and slowly let go, sliding Kevin down his body, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to wind his arms around Nick's neck and kiss him.

He hardly had time to focus on the softness of Nick's lips, the warmth of his tongue, sweeping Kevin's mouth, shooting sparks through his body, before the wolf whistles penetrated and he pulled away, blushing furiously.

"Congratulations," he said, cutting off whatever Nick was about to tell him, and he turned to hug Alicia.

* * *

They were sharing a hotel room.

Of course they were sharing -- he was Nick's girlfriend, right? Why wouldn't they share? Why would Nick think to order a two-room suite, to find a room that had two doubles instead of a queen, to plan ahead in case, say, Kevin made a complete and utter fool of himself and wanted to hide out as far away from Nick as possible?

He'd just have to explain.

He was proud, that was all, happy, happy to see Nick happy, and his head ran away with him, and that was it.

It had nothing to do with the way Nick's shirt clung to his chest, the cut of his biceps, the sparkle in his eyes, his goofy, gorgeous grin. The thought of those lips on Kevin's shoulder, neck, mouth. That tongue, tracing the freckles on his back. Those hands, stroking his cheek, his thigh.

"Kat," Nick said, closed the distance between them.

He stepped backwards, opened his mouth to say his name was, Kevin, but Nick's palm curled around his waist, pulled him close; he dipped his head and tilted Kevin's chin, and walked him towards the bed.

"Kat," he murmured, lips vibrating against Kevin's, and oh, oh, the sheets were soft, and Nick was strong, and his thumb brushed Kevin's cheekbone, and Kevin gave in.

* * *

"Nick," he said, "Nick."

Nick pressed a warm hand to his stomach, holding him still, and lowered his head. Kevin ran his foot over Nick's shoulder, down his back, and his other foot grasped the sheets, long, long legs, and Nick's skin and hand, against his own skin, and a rolling heat built up inside him, higher, the sheets dampening with his sweat.

"Nick."

Nick smiled, crawled up the bed, kissed him, and it was just like kissing Kris after a blowjob, tasted just exactly like, except that Nick was warm velvet mouth and strong arms holding him close, a hand running down his back, bigger, encasing him, and it was nothing like Kristen at all. He arched forward, cupping Nick's cheeks, his arms sliding down Nick's chest, slippery, and there was a brief flash of pain, a halting breath, then he shifted his legs, and Nick was kissing him, holding him, stroking him, inside him, deeper, deeper.

"Nick," he said.

* * *

"Oh. Oh, this is fucking great."

Kevin groaned. He *hated* getting up early. Especially when he was warm, and comfortable, curled up against another body, and AJ ought to fucking go away and leave him alone, and why was AJ there anyway?

"Hey man." Nick sat up, displacing Kevin, which made him even more unhappy. Nick's chest was a very nice pillow.

"This is just great, Nick."

Kevin buried his face in the mattress. "Go 'way."

Nick petted his back, and pulled the covers over him, which was nice. Warm. "Dude, what's your problem?"

"What's my *problem*?"

"Go *'way*!"

"My *problem*," AJ said, and Kevin didn't think his voice could *possibly* be more grating, "is that I come to see you off on your tour, and instead of a bouncy, happy solo artist, I find a bouncy, happy solo artist who just. fucked. Kevin."

"Katherine," Nick said. Kevin grumbled, and snuggled underneath his arm.

"Whatever. He's not really supposed to be your girlfriend."

"Why not? Why can't we be together if we want to?"

"Because!" AJ sat on the foot of the bed. "Because he just got divorced. And on top of that, he just turned into a woman *six* days ago. You fucked a girl who'd only been a girl for *five* *days*. That's not exactly thinking clearly, Nick."

Nick crossed his arms. Before he could tell AJ off, Kevin reached up, pulling his arm back down again. He sighed, and stroked Kevin's hair.

"What are you gonna do when he turns back?" AJ said, his voice gentling as he watched them. "Look at him, Nick. He's just lost his wife. You realize he's gonna latch on to you, right? Put you in her place. And maybe that's fine right now, when he's all hot and chesty, but what about when he has a dick and no bra? What are you gonna do then?"

"We'll figure it out," Nick said.

It wasn't exactly what Kevin wanted to hear, but it was close enough. He smiled sleepily, and pressed a kiss to Nick's side.

"You know Brian's gonna kick your ass."

"Not if you don't tell him."

"No," AJ said slowly. "I guess I don't have to tell anyone."

"What do you want?" Nick asked.

"McDonald's, a new cowboy hat, and the right to say I told you so when it all goes to hell in a handbasket."

"Let us get dressed, and we'll go buy you some fast food."

"Now, just to be clear, this means no Brian *and* no Howie, right?"

"Duh," Nick said. "Like Howie would keep it secret.

* * *

"What do you *mean*, I can't get in on the bet?"

Howie shrugged, and stirred his soup. "I'm sorry," he said, "but my time is up, and you know how competitive AJ is. He won, man, he's not gonna bet with you all over again."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me in the first place."

"I know," Howie said. "I feel awful. How's Leigh?"

* * *

Kat was beautiful. She was beautiful, and sexy, and when Nick pulled her onto his lap backstage, she laughed and rubbed her nose against his ear.

Alicia called them the cutest thing since Joey and Dawson. Alicia was a little in need of help sometimes, because Pacey was *so* better for Joey than *Dawson*, but with Kat feathering kisses along his jawline, Nick found it hard to argue, or even put a coherent thought together.

It wasn't just around the band, either. Kat seemed, suddenly, to feel free to come on to him any time, anywhere.

He wasn't arguing -- it was the best sex of his *life*, not to mention a much better relationship than Mandy -- it was just that it was hard to concentrate on Howie, when there was a warm tongue swiping the underside of his cock, and oh, God, a hot, wet mouth and cool nails pressing into his thighs and deep alto humming against his skin, and oh, oh, "Gotta go", and he hung up quickly before Howie could hear him come, and tangled his hands in Kat's hair, the strands winding around his fingers, and the swirl of her tongue sent him over the edge.

After, Kat leaned on his thighs and lifted her face and he kissed her, tasting her lips, the salty tartness of himself coating the roof of her mouth.

He pinned her beneath him on the bed, licked the inside of her wrist, her bellybutton, the back of her knee.

"Nick," she said, restless, "Nick, please."

"Mmm," he said, licked a little higher.

* * *

Howie found out in LA, when he came to watch the show and walked in on them having sex in Nick's dressing room.

Before, if he'd been having sex with Kris and someone interrupted, he would've laughed it off, mostly, been embarrassed on her behalf, but it wouldn't've been a big deal.

Now, though. Now he found it hard to look Howie in the eye, or even Nick, and he pulled Nick's jacket tighter around his shoulders, and wished they'd fucking get to the hotel already so he could shower. At least he hadn't been awake, really, for AJ.

Nick rubbed his shoulder, and it occurred to Kevin that Nick was doing a lot of that, lately, watching out for him. It was weird, because that had been Kevin's job for so long, but it was weird in a good way. He was tired of always taking charge, rushing into battle, protecting his boys. His wife.

He scrunched down in the seat, slumping against Nick, and even after Howie told them they were adorable, he didn't move his hand from where it lay on Nick's leg, smoothing over the crease in his pants.

* * *

Somehow, clubs were less fun now.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the dancing, because he did, male or female, loved snaking around people, skin rippling in time to the buzz of the speakers, but somehow, now, it was different.

Partly it was that there were a million douche-bag hos twining themselves around Nick, shoving breasts and asses and non-existant outfits in his face, and partly it was that when other men tried to dance with him Nick would glare over and make them disappear, but no amount of glaring on Kevin's part seemed to get rid of his passel o' whores.

Glaring in general seemed less effective now.

That could have been the alcohol coursing through his system, but he'd only had a couple of shots and one beer chaser.

He was still sober enough to recognize Chris Kirkpatrick when he saw him, which was a vast improvement over last years Grammy after-party, which thank God, Kris had never found out about, although that didn't matter anymore. But Nick didn't know, which was good. Very, very good. He took another sip of beer, grateful the barstool was so diligent about keeping him upright.

"Hey there."

There was that voice, sending a shiver down his spine, although that could have been the brush of air against his neck, and okay, so maybe he remembered more of Chris than he'd thought.

"Hey," he said, turning. "Hi."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I'm Chris," he prompted.

Kevin blushed. "Oh! Oh, um. K-Katherine. Kat. I'm dating," he added, totally irrelevantly, except that hey, Chris was stroking his palm, and he snatched it away. "Nick Carter," he said. "I'm dating Nick Carter."

"Nick's a lucky man, Kat."

Kevin shrugged, his eyes on the sea of skankiness surrounding his boyfriend. "He won't be if he keeps this up," he muttered.

Chris laughed. "A guy could get to like you," he said.

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Not at all. Scout's honor."

"You weren't in the Scouts."

"No, but I bet you were." Chris sipped his drink -- Red Bull and vodka, probably, if his habits hadn't changed since the Grammys. "How's your cousin?" he asked. "I heard he had the baby?"

Kevin nodded. "Seven pounds --" He stared at Chris, eyes widening. "I mean. Um."

"Relax," Chris said quietly, firmly. "No one would believe me if I told them."

"You won't," Kevin said, recovering his composure. "Trust me. You *really* don't want to."

Chris watched him weave through the crowd, elbowing girls out of the way and wrapping himself around Nick. He raised his drink, saluting.

"Justin was right." He drained the glass. "You are a pretty motherfucker."

* * *

Nicholas Jerald Littrell (Nicholas because, when all was said and done, Nick was still Brian's best friend) came into the world with ten fingers, ten toes, and, what Kevin was most grateful for, his mother's heart.

They had to wait to see him until after he was home from the hospital, so as to avoid family members who might recognize Kevin, but it was worth it, holding the baby in his arms.

He curled up on the couch, brushed Nicky's cheek with one finger, and whispered "hi."

"I'm your Uncle Kevin," he said. "I know, I may not look very uncle right now, but I am, Nicky. And I'm gonna take such good care of you, you'll see. You may not know it yet, but the people you were named after, they're --" He swallowed. "They're good men, Nicky, men you should be proud to be like, b-both of them. Now, you're gonna learn that about Uncle Nick yourself, as you grow up and get to know him, but your Great-Uncle Jerald, he can't be here. He's looking down on you, though, I know he is, taking care of you and watching you and loving you just as much as if he were the one holding you right now instead of me."

Nicky looked up at him, eyes wide, and Kevin kissed his forehead. He'd wanted this, wanted it so badly. "Not yet," Kris had told him, over and over, "not yet, later," until it was too late, and there was no later to reach.

Nick leaned over his shoulder and slipped a finger into Nicky's fist, just as rapt as the baby who watched him.

Kevin smiled painfully and thought it could all change, at any moment, he could switch back. He kissed Nick's cheek, Nicky's toes, and thought Maybe I don't want to.

* * *

Nick loved waking up in the morning, now that he had Kat. Kat, who hated waking up at any time, ever, who twined herself around Nick, grumbling, who pulled him closer and murmured unintelligable nothings against his neck.

He loved the feel of her skin, soft and smooth against his own. He loved her legs tangled in his, and the way her toes would stroke his calf, whether she was conscious or not, and how her face fit against his collarbone, the light scratch of stubble --

He rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a thump loud enough that it woke up Kevin.

There he was again, hair mussed, peering at Nick, voice rough with sleep. "Nick? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nick said, looking anywhere but at Kevin. And there were his boxers, shoved under the bed after last night's se -- he pulled them on. "Welcome back," he said, and ran to the bathroom to hurl.

* * *

AJ and Howie looked up when Brian entered the room, their eyes hopeful.

"He's singing Hank Williams now."

Howie stared. "Hank Williams?"

"He always sings Hank Williams when he's upset."

"No he doesn't," AJ said.

Brian snorted. "You haven't seen him upset."

"I think I -- "

"When Uncle Jerald died, he spent two months singing Honky-Tonk Blues."

"Two months?" Howie said.

"Yeah. Then he moved on. To Take These Chains From My Heart."

"What's he singing now?" AJ asked.

"Cold, Cold Heart."

"Fuck." AJ slumped in his chair and poked Howie with his foot. "This is all your fault," he said. "You and your matching underwear."

"*Me*? You were the one who made him buy that black dress -- like Nick could resist *that*."

"At least *I* didn't try to push a recently divorced man into a relationship with one of his best friends 5 days after an unwanted sex change!"

"You said it took a week!"

"Guys?"

"Of course it didn't take a week! You bought him *matching* *underwear*!"

"Guys."

"I also bought *you* dinner!"

"*Guys*!"

Howie flushed. "*Olive* Garden," he said sulkily, but Brian glared at him so he shut up.

"You two fighting isn't going to turn Nick gay or get Kevin interested in anything other than singing Hank Williams' greatest hits and holding my son."

"He's a very cute son," AJ said.

Howie hit him.

"I'm just sayin'."

"*Not* the point."

"Okay," Brian said. "Here's the deal. I'm going to pry Nicky from his uncle's arms. AJ, you talk to Kevin about women, breasts, sex, whatever. Get him onto Kristin and see if that opens the floodgates about Nick, too. Just in case that doesn't work, Howie, you go gay Nick."

Howie rolled his eyes. "You can't just go turn someone -- "

"I don't have to," Brian said. "You do."

AJ raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"How come we have the hard jobs and you get the baby?"

"Because you didn't let me in on the bet," Brian said. "Besides," he added grimly, "if Howie fails, *I'll* knock some sense into Nick."

Because, when all was said and done, Nick was still Brian's best friend. But Kevin was his cousin.

* * *

"You know you need and want my love yet you're afraid to try..."

"Kevin," AJ said patiently.

"Why do you run and hide from life, to try it just ain't smart..."

"Kev."

"Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heaaaaart?"

"Yo, Richardson!"

"I'm busy."

"You're not busy," AJ said. He plopped next to Kevin on the couch and grabbed the tv remote from his hands. "You're wallowing."

Kevin sniffed haughtily. "Even if I were, which I'm not, I'd be allowed."

AJ stopped on The Golden Girls. "You've been wallowing for a week and a half now," he said. On screen, Sophia poked Dorothy with a cane.

"He threw up."

"What?"

"He looked at me, fell out of bed, and ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach."

"Ouch."

Kevin took the remote back. "He didn't even make it to the toilet," he said, and returned to infomercials.

"Okay," AJ said, "that's bad, I admit. But Kevin? Why does watching half-hour commericals about dicing slicing ricing machines help more than Blanche's romantic travails?"

"Because," Kevin said, "it also makes Julienne fries."

"You don't like Julienne fries."

"I'm not planning to use it on potatoes."

AJ shifted subtly away from him. "Go back to singing Hank," he said.

Kevin opened his mouth, paused, and turned to look at AJ. "Why?" he asked.

"Yours is not to question why. Yours is just to. um. sing."

"You don't like Hank Williams."

"No," AJ said, "but I like you singing Hank Williams better than I like you thinking about turning Nick into little crinkly french fries."

"He deserves it," Kevin said. "I wonder where Uncle Harold keeps his shotgun."

"Okay," AJ said. "You're starting to scare me here."

Kevin snorted. "You were already frightened when you walked in the room."

"Aw," AJ said. "I'm touched. I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Okay," Kevin said decisively.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'm done wallowing."

"Wow," AJ said, "I'm good."

"I'm ready to wallow with beer." Kevin glanced at AJ. "You'd better stay here," he said. "Sometimes a man needs to wallow with beer alone."

"Oh, don't worry," AJ said. "I'll let you wallow with beer without me." He leaned over the back of the couch, craning his neck towards the back of the house, and shouted, "*Brian*!"

Kevin scowled. "Squealer," he said.

* * *

Brian told Kevin he wasn't allowed to go get drunk.

"Abusing alcohol is no way to remove your problems. Isn't that right, Aje?"

"Huh?"

"Stop showing my son The Golden Girls and tell Kevin he isn't allowed to abuse alcohol."

"Alcohol bad," AJ said. "That's Rose. She's stupid, but it's funn -- ow!"

"Tell Kevin he isn't allowed to abuse alcohol."

"You're not allowed to abuse alcohol," AJ said. He kissed the top of Nicky's head and whispered, "that one's Blanche. She's a ho, but I'll teach you about that later." Nicky gurgled happily.

"Fine," Kevin said. "I'll abuse Nick instead. AJ, what's the number for that dicer/slicer/ricer/fry thing?"

"1-800-I'm-not-telling-you," AJ said, and, "ow!" He rubbed his arm resentfully. "I see you didn't leave PMS behind with the rack."

"You suck," Kevin said. "Gimme my nephew."

"No." AJ cuddled Nicky closer. "You've been hogging him."

"At least I didn't make him watch bad TV."

"Golden Girls isn't bad," AJ said indignantly. "It's pure comedic genius."

"Right," Kevin said, "I'm moving home."

Brian held the door for him, then went back inside and sat next to AJ. "Good job," he said. "You can change the channel now."

AJ glared. "My TV."

"Actually -- "

"Mine."

"At least give me my chi -- "

AJ growled.

"Someday," Brian said, "y'all'll have your own kids. And I'll have my own life. And family. And television set."

Nicky spit up on AJ's hand. AJ reached for the burp cloth, totally unfazed by something that, had anyone else done it, would have had him hunched over a toilet from abject horror. "Aren't we the cutest little baby ever?" he cooed in a register normally reserved for Howie's falsetto. "Yes," he said. "Yes we are. We *are*!"

"Someday," Brian said. "When you're dead."

* * *

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Kevin turned on his stool. Two Chris Kirkpatricks stood behind him, grinning.

"Hi," he said. "Go away."

"What? No open arms? No snark? No my boyband is better than your boyband?"

"*'M* better," Kevin said. "So there."

Chris clapped him on the back, sitting one stool over. "That's my favorite Kevin Richardson," he said.

"Oh." Kevin looked around. "Are there more of me, too?"

"Oh, man. You are trashed."

"Am not." He squinted at his glass. There was a drop, way down at the bottom. "'S not polite," he said.

"Fine." Chris rolled his eyes and adopted an exaggerated British accent. "You're a few sheets to the wind, old chap."

"There's no wind. 'M indoors. I think."

"Let me guess. Nick, it turns out, is strictly straight?"

"Shut up," Kevin said.

"If that's the best you can do, you really *are* in a sad state. I better call Brian."

"No! I mean. He's in Atlanta."

"I know," Chris said, "but bandmates like to keep tabs on each other anyway, no?"

"No." Kevin shook his head fervently.

Chris grinned. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?

"Wha?"

"You're supposed to be at home, like a good boy. You snuck out."

"Not sneaking," Kevin said. "Drinking. See?" He licked the rim of his glass. "Drink," he said.

"Yes," Chris said. "I see. Wouldn't you rather have sex, though? Lots more fun, and no nasty hangover."

"Can't have sex. Nick said -- oh."

"You could sound a tad more enthusia -- oof." Chris wrapped an arm around Kevin's waist. "I'm afraid I can't carry you, big boy. Think you can make it to my car, or are you too drunk?"

Kevin licked his neck. "Sober," he said.

"Oh, totally," Chris said. "Because you'd absolutely fuck Nick over if you were."

"Not fucking Nick." The other Chris' earlobe was enticing, soft and pierced and waiting to be toyed with. Kevin bit it, swirling his tongue around the metal hoops. "Fucking you," he said, and stumbled towards the door.

He'd always wanted to try a threesome.

* * *

The first thing Kevin did in the morning was shower.

Chris had cleared out the night before, which was really pretty decent of him, all things considered.

If they'd gone to Chris' place, Kevin wasn't sure he would've had the willpower to leave, what with the possibility, slim thought it might be, of sex again in the morning.

It had been really good sex.

He scrubbed at his skin, chastizing himself for being a girl when, hello, male again, but it did no good.

No matter how much he scrubbed, he could still feel Chris where Nick was supposed to be.

* * *

Howie kissed him.

He kissed him, and all Nick could think was, oh, tongue.

Howie pressed against him, cupped his groin, kissed him, and it was nice, it was good, except it wasn't, at all, because it was Howie.

Nick pushed him away.

"I can't," he said.

"Nick -- "

"No. I know, you were, you know, making a point, but, I can't. And it's not, it's not what you think, it's not." He ran a hand through his hair. "He's Kevin," he said, like that explained it all.

It did.

* * *

Nick was in New York, a TRL appearance and a couple of concerts, and nobody was expecting him, no one had seen him in months, so it was easy to slip inside the hotel unnoticed, to charm a keycard off the concierge and find Nick's room, and wait.

He looked good.

He was tall and sunny, golden. He was buttery skin that Kevin wanted to lick, buttery skin sinking into black tattooes, warm salty buttery skin he remembered. He'd traced that skin, memorized it, every inch, learned it over and over again.

Kevin swallowed. "We need to talk," he said.

* * *

He sat next to Kevin, reached for him, then pulled his hand away. He remembered the feel of that hand in his, only it wasn't that hand, not exactly, it was different, it was more. It was. He shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

"I just." Kevin stared at his lap, and Nick ached to rub his back, to soothe, to. something. "I want you to know what you're doing here. Because I'm the same person. I haven't changed."

"Um," Nick said.

"Did you really think. It was me in that body, Nick. The whole time, it was me."

He bit his cheek. "It's different," he said. "I can't."

"You mean you won't."

"I mean I can't. Not." Nick looked away. "Not with you," he said.

"Not with." Kevin stood, suddenly, his hand beginning to tremble. "Not with me?" he said. "What the fuck do you think you've been doing this whole time? *Who* the fuck do you think you've been doing?"

"It's different," Nick snapped. "It's *different*!"

* * *

"It's exactly the same fucking thing," Kevin growled.

"How?" Nick said, eyes flashing.

"It's me," he said, and pushed Nick against the wall. Part of him winced when he heard the slam of Nick's back on the brick, but he was too busy pushing, sliding down, tugging at Nick's zipper.

His cock hardened just the same in Kevin's mouth, felt just the same in his hands, he whimpered the same, fingers tangling in Kevin's hair just like always. Just like before.

"Kat," he moaned, and Kevin yanked his head back, leaving Nick exposed to the open air.

"Say my name," he snarled.

"W-what?" Nick blinked, still not there, and Kevin remembered that feeling, it was just the same, blowjob or eating out, the same euphoria and the shock of being pulled back without release --

"Say my *fucking* name!"

"Kevin," Nick said, moaned it when Kevin swallowed him whole, swallowed him down, and kept on swallowing.

"Kevin," and his voice, low and sated, his hand on Kevin's cheek, just the same.

"Kevin," he said, and kissed him.

Just the same.