Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/849223.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Jonas_Brothers
  Relationship:
      Joe_Jonas/Nick_Jonas, Nick_Jonas/Garbo
  Character:
      Joe_Jonas, Nick_Jonas, Kevin_Jonas, Garbo, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Sibling_Incest, AU, Space_Hookers
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-19 Words: 11563
****** Laugh Off The Quick Tricks ******
by whereimgone_(orphan_account)
Summary
     She leaned back in her chair. "Is it such a horrible life you have,
     Joe?"
     "It would be for Nick."
     "Really?" she asked. "Or do you just not want to share him?"
Madam preferred it if one of the girls played the piano in the parlor. But if
Nick finished his chores early that day or if Demi, the best of them, was
otherwise occupied, she let Nick provide the music while the gentlemen were
entertained. Unlike Demi, who stuck to old standards, Nick usually improvised
some unobtrusive and dulcet melody. Once in a while he forgot himself and got
into the thread of what he was playing, working on an arrangement that got loud
and serious. Joe would have to find a way to wander his customer over to the
baby grand, lounging against it and laughing brightly, until Nick snapped back
to reality and returned to being background noise. A few times Joe had to clear
his throat before Nick registered the signal and, the once, he had to stomp on
Nick's shin.
Nick was keeping himself to himself tonight, that wasn't the problem. The
lamplight throwing shadows on his face, maybe that was it, flickering a
campfire glow against the newly defined angles of his cheekbones and jaw. Nick
was always gangly, stretched out too much through the arms, hands the size of
mitts. Then he became long all over and now he was long and broad, and his
fingers just looked tapered on the piano keys. His neck curved sinuous as a
smoke plume, eyes intense, dreamy. A few of the johns who favored the boys -
none of Joe's regulars, but at least two of Efron's - kept glancing his way.
Nick was dressed Nice, which was a world away from Joe's work Nice or even
Kevin's. He just looked like what he was, the help scrubbed up for company, but
even that had an appeal for a certain type of john.
Still, Joe wracked it up to paranoia until he saw the closest thing Zac had to
a patron go over to the piano with a speculative look on his face. Joe
exchanged glances with Kevin behind the bar and Kevin's eyebrows shot up,
panicked. Joe should have gone with the red shirt tonight, it was more
expensive, but he was stuck in the blue. So he loosened the laces of his pants
before sauntering over and leaning his elbow on the piano, hips canted out. No
points for subtlety here. "Enjoying yourself tonight?"
The customer - Joe couldn't honestly remember his name, Simon or Clive or
something, turned around. His body language was all still focused on Nick
though, like Nick had a magnetic pull, but more proprietary than helpless. Nick
himself had an expression on his face somewhere between confused and concerned.
"That's right," the john said. To Nick, and Joe had to struggle to keep the
little kittenish smile on his face. "Your brother works here too. Quite a
regular family business. Do you offer a two for one discount?"
Nick's face went blank in that way it did when he was offended or caught off-
guard. He looked at Joe for his cue, but Joe was too furious to give him any
help. "Er..."
Joe rested his fingers on the inside of the guy's elbow, stroking, grazing a
little with his nails. Out of the corner of his eye he could already see Zac
looking murderous. "That's all you'll get out of that one, sorry to say. Fuel
cell accident when he was younger, swallowed some coolant. All sorts of
unfortunate physical side effect. Let me take you back to the party."
The john looked him over up and down and Joe let his relief turn his posture
loose and provocative. "Or we could make it a more private party."
Behind the john, Nick gave him a grateful look. Joe wished a chandelier would
fall on his head. He purred, "I like private parties."
As he led the john upstairs, he let himself glance over to the couches, where
Madam was sitting. She was staring right at him. Of course she was.
***
Joe made his move the next day, counting what he had hidden under the
floorboards underneath his bed over and over again. He didn't tell Nick or
Kevin first. Kevin would think he was crazy and it wasn't something Nick needed
to know about. It was early enough in the day that Madam had her office door
cracked open. Unlike the rest of the house, which was overwhelmingly plush and
antiquated, her office was paneled with aluminum to and had vidscreens
installed in the desk and on the wall. Joe knocked on the door, leaning his
head in. "Can I talk to you, Ma'am?"
She put down the ledger, looking up at him. "Of course, honey. I've been
wanting to speak to you anyway."
Joe shut the door behind him as he went to sit down. He still had some
eyeshadow on from the night before and he could feel it crack when he blinked.
"Really?"
"Mmhmm," she said. No makeup of her own this morning and the lines around her
eyes made her look kind. "Our Nick's come into his own lately."
Joe had taken being the pretty one as his due for so long he must have started
taking it for granted. The day he looked up and saw that Nick had gotten
beautiful, as quietly and efficiently as Nick did most everything, was the
first day the world had felt unsafe in a long, long time. "I wanted to talk to
you about that too."
Madam raised an eyebrow. "Then I'm glad we're on the same page."
"I don't think we are," Joe said. He took a breath. "I want to buy him from
you."
Her expression was startled and then it turned amused. Not necessarily in a
cruel way, but still. "Oh, really? Well, we're both businessmen, Joe. How much
are you offering?"
Joe gripped the arm of his chair. "I've got two hundred saved up."
"Joe," she said, trying to be a little gentle in the face of this
ridiculousness. "I bought him for three hundred when he was seven."
She didn't add what they both were thinking, that she had purchased Nick and
Kevin mostly as a kindness. Because Joe had been worth twelve hundred, but he
had sat clutching Nick to his chest with pudgy little arms and bawling in the
middle of the auction block when they tried to take him away. "You can lease
him to me. I'll pay on the month for him for the rest of his life. Or take it
out of my share of the allowance. We can get by on Kevin's."
She leaned back in her chair. "Is it such a horrible life you have, Joe?"
"It would be for Nick."
"Really?" she asked. "Or do you just not want to share him?"
Joe felt his face flare up, center of gravity emptying out. He bit the inside
of his cheek and looked away. In the stalls, mostly, where no one could see,
but someone must have. Or maybe he had just fallen for a bluff.
"I haven't said anything," Madam went on, implacable and brutal. "Because it
hasn't affected your work and as far as I know he's still a-"
"He is," Joe blurted out.
"Good," Madam said, mostly to herself. Then she tilted her head. "Well, that's
an idea."
Joe looked back at her again. "What is?"
"A compromise," she said. "I can't sell you him, honey. But that might be worth
two hundred."
Joe felt his head go fuzzy, washed over by some dark, sharp current.
"That's a bargain, Joe," she said. And it was. Oh god, it was. "You've been one
of my best for years, consider it a kindness. Give it a few days to think it
over."
Joe bolted out of her office. He stumbled outside, where the glare of the sun
off the floating docks wiped out the worst of his vision so he couldn't even
see tonight's batch of tourists disembark.
***
The girls usually had a longer shelf-life than the boys, that was just common
knowledge. So the grand dames of the girls' house, Britney, Jessica, they were
bumping against thirty. Zac and Joe weren't quite the oldest in the boys' house
but they were unofficially in charge. They were the highest earners, for one
thing, and Joe had family muscle to back him up in a disagreement. Zac flew
solo, avoided allegiances, but he got respect due to the plainness of his
ambition.
Still, he and Joe were friends, mostly, and Joe remembered the day when he was
maybe as old as Nick was now when Efron woke him up by yanking the covers off
Joe's bed. Joe had been naked and grumbled and pulled the sheets back up. They
were scratchy against his dick, unlike the sheets on the company beds which
were satin or something. "What's your damage, spaz?"
Zac's big eyes were even bigger than normal and his hair was a wreck. He was
still in his work clothes from last night. "Justin's leaving!"
That was news. Joe sat up. "No way. Did Madam catch him dealing or something?"
Zac snorted. "No, dipshit. JT's clean. He bought himself."
"What?" Joe asked. "How? With what money?"
Zac sat on the edge of Joe's bed, one tan knee hugged close to his chest.
"Under the table stuff. He was always really good at getting things from his
clients, you know that, all those rings and shirts and whatever. He told me he
hawked it in town and saved it up. And now he's out of here."
Joe wouldn't really miss Justin, not the way Zac would and eventually did, but
this was staggering. This was potent. Joe would bet even money that Zac's
mooney-eyed impression was a little off, that Justin probably dealt on the side
even if he didn't use, but still. "Man. Wow. No shit. Good for him."
"Yeah," Zac said, focused. "Yeah. That's what I'm going to do too, man. Just
you wait and see."
Inasmuch as Joe had an opinion it wasn't all that bad in the long run, the
work. It kept Kevin and Nick safe and warm and fed. Not that they weren't
useful in themselves - Kev tended bar and assisted Doc; Nick did pretty much
anything asked of him - but Joe was the reason they had a home. If the
alternative were the mines, Joe would much rather lounge around the parlor in
fancy clothes and seduce society's elite. They were better perks than black
lung. So he didn't share Zac's boldness or the steadfastness of his plan, but
he started keeping his share of allowance instead of blowing it in town,
charming jewelry out of a few of his regulars. It wasn't such a bad idea,
having back-up options.
And then Nick got sick.
***
Nick and Kevin didn't live in the house with Joe. They shared a room over the
garage. Madam's establishment had a reputation even in a town full of reputable
talent, but things weren't so formal anyone ever really minded if Nick snuck
into Joe's bed after Joe finished working. Nick had bad dreams as a kid. Joe
usually slept until noon and more days than not his first memory of the morning
had been Nick giving him a bleary hug before going off to do the laundry. And
then Joe would drift off again.
The first time anything happened Nick had kissed him goodbye, a little nothing
of a peck. But Joe was halfway between asleep and awake, a place where what he
wanted seemed easy to get. He had smiled into Nick's mouth and they had traded
kisses back and forth across the bed. It had been simple, blurry, gentle. It
stayed that way over these past few months, as they pressed each other into
corners and kissed, only ever kissed, the spread of Nick's body warm underneath
Joe's hands. Joe hadn't known anything could be like that, could just be nice.
It was worth feeling like a deviant.
Joe had his monthly check-up and eventually he pulled himself together enough
to go to the infirmary. Instead of Doc though, he saw Kevin with a clipboard in
hand. "Oh no way. You're not doing my exam."
Kevin blanched. "Oh geez, no. Doc's just busy with Selena, she asked me to do
your checklist for you."
Joe hopped up on the table. "Fine. Fire away."
"In the past month have you experienced..." Kevin's mouth twisted up. "Uh.
Burning when you... here just fill it out."
Joe rolled his eyes, taking the clipboard. "Great bedside manner." He started
ticking off boxes. Joe wasn't as good at his letters as Nick or Kevin, but
these questions were rote by now. "And for the record, I'm pretty sure I'm
clap-free at the moment."
"Great," Kevin muttered. He sat next to Joe on the examination table, quiet for
a minute before he said, "So last night."
Joe sighed. "Yeah."
"It's going to be a problem."
"Yeah."
"Did Madam-"
The stylus nearly scorched a hole through the clipboard before Joe got himself
to stop pressing down so hard. "She noticed. Said he's come into his own."
Kevin looked a little sick. The girls all loved Kevin, thought he was adorable
and sweet and basically all the things Joe wasn't. Kev never lacked for free
trade and he was a lot more respectful towards the talent than most of the
Involuntaries on the auxiliary staff. This was different though. Nick told Joe
once that on Joe's first real night working, Kevin had kicked a dent in the
wall. "Training, though. That'd buy some time. It took you three years."
"I was a kid," Joe said. "It took three years for my balls to drop. Besides,
she knows Nick's a fast learner." He checked off no, no itching anywhere.
"We'll. Well, we'll figure something out," Kevin said finally.
Having Kevin at the bar was one of the biggest assets in Joe's arsenal. A
bartender could make or break you, depending on if he were on your side. And
Kev was good at his job, that rare combination of cheerful and ruthless. He
wanted to be a doctor though. He had never said anything about it, Kevin didn't
operate outside the practical realm, but Joe knew. "Maybe Doc can veto it.
Maybe trade will make his bloodsickness worse."
"Maybe," Kevin said. He didn't sound convinced but he wasn't placating Joe
either, so that was something. "Oh. I found out today the next med shipment's
coming planetside next week. Nelson said he'd skim us seven kits off the top
for two hours and a bottle of hootch."
"I'll clear my calendar," Joe said. He handed Kevin his questionnaire. "Just
don't give him top label this time." It was endless, the stream of shots and
pills. It ate their nerves and savings around the edges, but they mostly
scraped by. Joe at least always had a marketable skill. They kept hearing
rumors of a pill, just one pill once a day that took care of all the symptoms.
It sounded so blissfully simple, but nothing like that had made it this far
out. Not much about life here had been streamlined for convenience yet.
Kevin clapped his shoulder. "We'll think of something, Joe. I promise."
The something Joe was thinking about wasn't even a solution. But that didn't
make Joe stop, chewing it over like cud, bitter and necessary.
***
Nick was on the piano again when Joe came out that night. His bracelet clunked
against the lacquer when Joe rested his elbows on top of it. "So, do you take
requests?"
Nick eyed him, unimpressed. "Not me. Apparently I swallowed too much coolant."
"Oh man, that wasn't even a lie though, you so did! Remember, when you were
eight?"
Nick played a few bars of something Joe almost recognized. "You told me it was
grape-flavored."
"It might have been. I didn't know. It was an experiment."
"It wasn't," Nick said. "So that should satisfy your scientific curiosity. I
got a couple tips for you."
Nick had grown up the house pet, back when his hair made him look like a mop.
Even now that he was older than most of the first-year talent he was well-liked
and unobtrusive enough to have a useful ear on the ground. "Oh yeah?"
Nick crashed on a minor chord. "Mr. Representative's supposed to be docking
later tonight."
If Joe hadn't known about that before, it meant it was an impromptu visit. And
spontaneity meant he was coming without his wife, and Joe would have a few
strenuous and meticulously scheduled days. He wrinkled up his nose, examining
his necklace. "Need to change my jewelry then."
Nick shrugged. He never liked any of Joe's regulars. "And that one." He jutted
his chin out towards a fainting couch where Efron was shmoozing a younger guy
with sharp, awkward features like a gangly bird.
"Who's that?"
"Somebody's son," Nick said. "He's in town for two weeks. The girls heard he
was loaded."
The girls had fed Nick bad information before, but their shift had just started
and Zac was already almost crawling into the guy's lap. Joe knew he should
probably change and curl his hair, since that's what the Rep liked. Still, he
was in a prickly mood and something about Efron already being pissed at him
just made him want to gauge that wound open deeper. There was a lot of
satisfaction in myopic, petty destruction. So Joe plunked down next to Zac on
the couch, jostling an arm around his shoulder and smiling a work smile at the
john. I know something you don't, said that smile, but maybe I'll share.
"Please, tell me I'm not too late."
Efron went catatonic with fury underneath him, his smile shellacked on. The
john smiled too, nervously. "Too late?"
"For this," Joe said patiently. He extended his hand, met the john's eyes. "I'm
Joseph."
The john shook his hand after a moment of hesitation, unsure if Joe was being
facetious or if this broke protocol, maybe. That was always Joe's favorite,
seeing how offended they were at the implication of equality. The john's palms
were smooth but his grip was firm enough. "Gregory."
Joe lingered a moment too long over the shake, testing the weight, letting
interest flick over his expression. "Gregory. A new face for tonight."
"It's my first time," Gregory hastened to explain. "My, uh. A friend, he's
around here somewhere. He recommended it."
A cherry then, which explained the stammer and the 'rather be elsewhere' bent
to the body language. They weren't Joe's forte to be honest - the ambivalent
ones, the unwilling partners in crime. Joe preferred an open acknowledgment of
a business transaction. No one came in unless they wanted fantastic sex with a
beautiful partner; it didn't lend it a patina of morality to pretend to have
qualms. Still, Zac was, like, shooting hate beams at him and that was fun at
least. Joe leaned back. "Your friend has good taste. I bet it's your first time
on the planet though yourself."
The john smiled again, a squirmy sort of smile. "Yeah. Guess it's - guess it's
easy to tell, right? I haven't had a vacation for a while. Work keeps me pretty
busy."
The babbling center of Joe's brain that never quit bubbling said oh how
astonishing, an important job. "Busy doing what?"
"Surgery," Gregory said like that was something you had to admit sheepishly.
"Vascular, mostly, what I'm known for."
Joe felt himself sit up a little straighter. He hadn't given himself permission
to do that. "You're a doctor?"
"A very well-respected surgeon," Zac interrupted smoothly, smug. "An
attending."
Well it was on now. A blood specialist would be better, but veins and blood
were probably related, he guessed. And still, of all the people to owe him
favors. Joe smiled a snake's tongue flicker of a smile and he was just about to
get to work when he heard Nick say, "Excuse me."
He looked up. Nick was standing next to the couch, looking distinctly
unthrilled to be there. Joe said, "Yes?"
"Madam wanted to know if the gentleman is interested in a cocktail," Nick said.
"She needed you to ask that?"
"Apparently," said Nick, dry. "It required my expertise." Joe bit down a smile.
But the customer, Gregory, he had the luxury of not having to hide. He laughed,
looking at Nick. Looking Nick over. Gregory's face had sobered into something
vaguely keen. Intrigue sometime had that effect, evaporated the floundering.
Nick was startled by the noise, glancing at the john, but then he lowered his
head with a blush.
"Three whiskey sours," Joe said. "On fire!" It usually got a laugh and Kev
would know it as code for 'make the john's so strong he'll pass out or throw up
in twenty minutes."
"Your wish is my command," Nick said with all the enthusiasm of paint, but the
color was still in his cheeks as he walked away. Gregory stared after him with
an unfamiliar speculation, a softer fascination than Joe was used to. Joe's
heart rabbited in his chest.
Gregory said, "So... I take it that's not the usual waiter?"
"Oh, that's the piano boy," Zac said brightly. "The house's little prodigy.
Self-taught! That's our Nick, gorgeous and smart as a whip."
"Yes. Very impressive for a fourteen-year-old," Joe said. The john didn't look
like one who liked them young.
"Isn't he seventeen by now?" Zac asked, blinking wide eyes. If Joe was
nineteen, which as near as he could figure he was, Nick was around sixteen, but
more importantly Joe was going to kill Efron in the middle of the night. The
john just looked thoughtful, ideas drifting through his mind as visible as
clouds.
"Maybe seventeen. It still feels like yesterday when that mule kicked him
though. I'll go get our drinks," Joe said.
"The minute you get a break you get Nick out of here," Joe told Kevin, picking
up the tray. Kevin didn't respond though, he just looked past Joe's shoulder
and sort of jerked his head. Joe knew better than to ask why, just forced his
posture to melt when he was drawn back against a large, soft body. Opulent
physicality, Joe always thought. A build like that meant meat and vegetables as
a regular dinner, which was as much a display of power as it was appetite.
Joe's throat went tight with frustration; there was never enough time. He
rested his head back against the Representative's shoulder. "I thought I might
get to see you tonight."
The Rep turned him around. Smiling came later; Joe was an investment and he got
inspected first. But still, there was something playful around his mouth when
he turned Joe's head by the chin, this way and that. "And here I was hoping to
surprise you."
He had Joe angled so for maybe the space of a breath Joe was facing Nick. Nick
was hunched over on the piano bench, meeting his eyes with sullen defiance, and
Joe was happy enough to look away. He wrapped his arms around the Rep's
shoulders. "I don't like you being a surprise. I like getting to savor the idea
you're coming."
That got him a smile. "I told your Madam four hours in the green room."
"And will you ever get them," Joe said, resting a light finger on his mouth.
Four fucking hours, of all the nights. "Have Kevin here set you up with a
drink. I'll be back in just a minute after I make some arrangements."
He did mostly mean the lingering implications of the phrase, but first he
yanked Efron up by his brocade sleeve and manhandled him, pliable with
surprise, into the corner. "Pull the cherry, okay?"
Zac shook his arm free, flushed. "You've got some fucking nerve, Jonas. Like
I'd do you a favor after your stunt last night."
"Whatever, you'll get your john back," Joe said. "And this is doing yourself a
favor more than me. How good's it going to be for your business if Nick really
starts distracting your roster?"
Efron just stared at him, his mouth pressed in an angry line. Joe added. "Come
on, man. Please? I'll owe you."
Zac finally rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Fine. Just tell your brother
to keep it in his pants. Anyway, think fast. The cherry's got him right now."
When Joe whipped his head around, Zac sighed, exasperated, and turned it back.
"Don't look."
Joe strained his peripheral vision. The john was over by the piano, Joe could
just see the blur of his back. Nick was tinkering absently at the keys now, so
Joe could hear the john say, "So you really don't know how to read music?"
Nick shook his head, avoiding eye contact. "No... I mean, I know chords but
I've never... you know. Nothing formal."
"That's amazing," Gregory said. Entirely simple, sincere. "Most people can't do
that. You must have a real gift."
Joe could just make out Nick's small, pleased smile in profile, but Nick shook
his head again. "I don't think so. I mean, I grew up with the piano around.
It's just practice."
"Can you play anything else?"
"The guitar," Nick said. "My brother got one once and mostly he just lets me
use it."
Joe bugged out his eyes imploringly at Efron. "Go."
Zac gave him a pitying sort of look when he sauntered off. Joe didn't blame
him; he needed a few beats to stop shaking. He had no idea what was going on
with him lately.
***
The Rep was rougher than usual. He'd have to pay extra for anything entirely
untame, and he paid enough as it was; Joe wasn't worried about it. But still, a
little rougher. It had been a few months since he'd been planetside, and Joe
never had gotten around to changing into the jewelry the Rep had given. Joe was
skilled though, and four hours was more than enough time to coax him into a
better mood, despite the thin red thread of anxiety unspooling in Joe's mind.
The Rep always liked to clean up first, without Joe. He came out of the
bathroom in a towel while Joe waited sprawled on the bed. He plucked at the
sleeve of Joe's robe, which was slippery orange and embroidered in gold. Joe
loved it; it was the loudest thing in the entire universe. The Rep said,
"Second rate. Look at the quality of the stitching, that's awful. It's like
everything here, flashy but cheap the minute you get a good look."
Joe raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully not like everything here."
The Rep smiled and parted the robe to rub down Joe's chest. Joe arched into it
with a purr. "Not everything. You're quite the exception to the rule."
"Thank you."
"But it's why you're wasted here." the Rep settled on the pillows, wedging
Joe's head up on his knee. "You deserve somewhere you can really shine."
"I like it here," Joe said lazily. "I like that you have to come here and visit
me. It's romantic."
The Rep ran his fingers through Joe's hair. "If I bought your papers, you could
live on my estate and I would visit you every day." It's wheedling, an old
argument.
"You'd get bored of me," Joe said. It was playful and maybe the most honest
thing Joe had ever told him.
"Never," the Rep swore. Which, Joe should know better, but maybe it was more
than an empty promise. So far he'd been pretty consistent. "Well, I'm not going
to get bored over the weekend at least."
Joe rolled over on his back, getting a better look at his red face. "Oh? What
are we doing?"
The Rep tapped Joe's mouth and Joe sucked on his finger obligingly. "I'm here
for a conference with the quartz industry executives. Your Madam has agreed to
let you be my escort for the next three days."
Oh for - just shoot Joe now. Conventions could not be more boring as a rule,
and things at the house were so awful they only had the potential to get worse
if Joe left. There was no way Madam would let him squirm out of it either; the
Rep accounted for a hefty sum of their profits and she loved the free publicity
of her talent out about town on someone's arm. Joe slid the Rep's finger out,
kissed his knuckle. "I'd be honored."
The parlor had nearly cleared out by the time Joe went back downstairs.
Unofficially, when the Rep was in town Joe catered him pretty much exclusively
and his plans were to linger for twenty minutes, get himself remembered, and go
to bed. He wasn't looking when he nearly tripped over the cherry. He was
sitting on the stairs, somehow in shadow, his long limbs folded in sharp cuts
like origami. "Oh!" Joe said. He tried to say it brightly. "You're still here."
"Yup," the john said. "Joseph, wasn't it?"
"It was," Joe said. He felt vaguely off-kilter.
"I'm Greg," Greg said. "If you didn't catch that. My friends call me Garbo."
Joe leaned back against the banister. "Am I your friend now?"
The john's mouth twitched. Joe had the unsettling suspicion he was being
mocked. "Probably not. But I've been wanting to talk to you anyway. You did an
impressive job keeping me away from your friend all night."
Joe felt a chill go through him, a draft somewhere in his composure. "I don't
know what you're..."
"I'm a doctor," he said, patient and amused. "I have a good idea when someone's
trying to roofie me. And you set the other one on me like he was my private
secretary for the evening. I just thought it was interesting. And there's no
way that kid was ever kicked by a mule anywhere."
"How do you know?" Joe asked sharply. It just made the john smile. Joe wasn't
used to this, being played. At least not by the clients. It was like finding a
brand new species that was soft to the touch and poisonous.
"Is he your boyfriend?" he asked. Joe tried to barge past him, but he stood up,
blocking Joe's way.
"You even touch me, I scream and security comes down on you until you're
pissing blood for a month," Joe said.
The john held up his hands. "Look, no touching. I just - Look, tell me and I'll
go away."
Joe pursed his mouth. The john - Gregory, whatever - had gone back to looking
guileless. He wasn't the type who'd want to pay extra for much, Joe could sniff
that out easily. Doctors must have good hands too, probably. "He's my little
brother," Joe said. It felt like the words were rung out of him. Nick was
blood; what possible justification did he have for any of this. "My baby
brother."
The cherry's eyes went understanding, warm and sticky. Like he got it, like
anyone who had been born without papers could possibly get it. "It was your
guitar?"
"I don't play," Joe said. At least he could sweep past him then, head held
high.
***
Nick stuck his head in the next morning when Joe was at the vanity, getting
ready. "Hey. You busy?"
"Just this," Joe said. Nick came in and shut the door. "Hey, while you're over
there can you pass me - on the shelf." Nick tossed him the jar and pulled up a
chair next to Joe. He used to do this more when he was younger, watch Joe go
through the ritual of his ablutions, help him straighten his hair. Right now it
was a companionable silence.
"Four days?" Nick asked after a while.
Joe rubbed lotion into his shoulder. "Just three."
Nick nodded, unreadable. "You look nice."
Joe held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers. "Five rings, check it. All
paid for by one His Honorable Sir Representative. He ain't got nothing to
complain about now."
Nick's expression dimmed. "Oh." He pointed to a bruise on Joe's shoulder,
greenish with age and shaped like a sanddollar. "You forgot to cover up..." He
reached for Joe's concealer.
Joe jerked away. It made Nick's eyes widen, hurt, and Joe felt weirdly
embarrassed. "No. He likes to see them."
Nick crumpled and it was awful, watching all that subtle anger play out. "Oh,"
Nick said again, vague and thick. "Oh. Joe. ...Does he pay extra to fuck you
bareback?"
Joe looked at him. "Who told you that?"
"Demi," Nick said. Which made sense; sometimes she did the ledgers. "Does he?"
Joe sighed, switching out an earring. "Nick, come on."
"No," Nick said mulishly. "It's important. Does he?"
Joe looked down at his nails for a second. "Yeah. Fine. He does."
"Joe!"
"What?" Joe asked, exasperated. "He's clean and I see Doc after every round
with him anyway. It's a lot of money, Nicky, for not that big a deal."
"It is though!" Nick said. His hands were clenched.
Joe pushed a powder brush forward on the table. "How?"
Nick's eyes were narrowed, helpless and frustrated. "It just is." His voice got
quieter. "It is, Joe." And then slowly, so slowly, he reached up and pressed
the tips of his fingers down on Joe's bruise.
Joe gasped like a jolt. He didn't know how not to. At the sound, Nick scrambled
up and put his mouth over the bruise, tracing it with a warm, rough tongue.
Joe was hard. Erections came and went in his experience, random and
unremarkable as weeds. But he got hard from Nick's mouth so fast and so
profoundly he was dizzy from it, paralyzed. "Nick," he said weakly and crushed
a hand in Nick's hair.
Nick swung onto Joe's lap, biting down on the spot. Biting up the column of
Joe's neck, stopping at his jaw. Joe rolled his head back but Nick knew better
anyway than to touch his face and smear his makeup. Instead he licked down
Joe's throat, over his adam's apple, making soft sounds. Joe could feel his
erection through his jeans as Nick pressed it awkwardly against Joe's. It was
such a simple thing and Joe almost wanted to pass out he was so overwhelmed by
it. He felt like an exposed nerve; this was powerful and it hurt and it was so
wonderful it left him stupid.
Nick rocked his hips against Joe's, tentative and shallow. "Joe," he whispered
into his collarbone, sounding unsure of himself, like he needed permission. Joe
had to take Nick's hips in his hands, guide them into a real rhythm, show him
how best it would work. It was like being drunk, like liquid little shocks were
shooting up his spine.
Nick gasped wetly, curving his back so he could press his face against Joe's
chest, his cheek fevered. He kept making this little noise with every thrust,
this fucked out little whimper, and Joe's cock twitched. He pushed down on Nick
harder and Nick sped up, not even needing the direction anymore. Joe wanted to
kiss him so badly.
The knock on the door made them both jump. Nick went backwards somehow, ended
up perched on the vanity. He stared down at Joe, eyes huge and scared but a
stubbornness lurking in there too. Joe couldn't look away. It took him a couple
tries to call out, "Yeah?"
"Shuttle's ready when you are, Joseph." It was Rob. Security.
"Yeah," Joe said. "Five minutes." Joe shakily tried to restore his hair, barely
looking at the mirror past Nick. "I have to..."
Nick was nodding before he could finish. "Yeah." His voice was throaty and
Joe's dick throbbed. Two hundred. Joe's had gone for fourteen, a notable record
for the season. Nick's hard-on tented out his jeans and his eyes were slits and
his mouth was wet and swollen. The right buyer would pay twenty for him now,
easy.
Joe cleared his throat. "You can use the bathroom to..."
Nick bit his lip. "Yeah. Yeah. See you on Tuesday." He got off the vanity and
shuffled hunched and painful to Joe's bathroom. Joe fixed himself up as best he
could while his erection faded. He forced himself to leave before he could
listen for sounds from behind the door.
***
Parties, Joe was good at. Circulating, flirting, navigating the hairpin turn
between provocative and inaccessible, those were natural gifts. There were
parties enough the first and second nights. Joe would shake off the lethargy of
the day to perform, the Rep's hand always on him somewhere, smugly. Everything
else about the weekend solidly bit though. Joe's only purpose during the
meetings themselves was to sit still, look pretty and shut up, but he was
generally only capable of one of the three for more than five minutes at a
time. Especially without the safety net of being completely and visibly glazed.
That wasn't allowed either.
And there was always Nick, thoughts of Nick, intangible and obfuscating as
smoke. Just as choking too, leaving his insides raw. Joe was familiar with
several types of danger: jumping one of the other talent who was stepping on
his turf or bothering his brothers, jumping off the roof just to see what would
happen, not being on the side of the bed next to the panic button. He couldn't
define this new threat, this haziness, but he had the dim suspicion it might
entirely fuck him over. He would run his thumb over the condensation on a water
glass and there'd be a flash of Nick's wet mouth on his neck and Joe would
start shaking.
And okay, it wasn't all involuntary. Joe had some agency, at least in his own
head. And he'd - it was a mistake, even at the time he knew that - but during
the long hours with the Repp, Joe would allow himself a tiny gift. He'd let
Nick in around the corners, remember his hands or mouth when he needed to make
it good. Sex was a universal constant, a profession, a commodity. Anything that
broad had to have variations; sometimes it was pretty fun, sometimes it was
gross or dangerous or boring. It was something Joe took pride in. But now, even
during business as usual, Joe would think about his hands on Nick's back and
fall apart.
the Rep chuckled once on the last night when Joe wailed underneath him and
collapsed on the mattress. The sweat on the back of his neck turns cold
suddenly, and the Rep covers him with his own body when Joe trembled, breathing
into his ear. "I guess I should try that move again pretty soon then, huh?"
Joe nodded weakly, still gasping.
the Rep kissed his neck. "You'll love it when you move to the capital. It's the
perfect place for a social butterfly like you."
"This is my home," Joe said. Which was suicidal, potentially. The secret to
snaring a regular, as tried and true as everything cynical, was to make them
think they were special. All the other johns, they were just a chore, but this
one you had been waiting for. He was your home. the Rep handled the misstep
better than he could have; Joe only bled a little when he crept into the shower
after the Rep had fallen into the dream stage of sleep. Joe left the lights off
so the blood just looked like a shadow as it swirled down the drain, just added
texture to the water.
***
Joe was flown home on a Tuesday. Tuesdays were his day off. Joe usually
interpreted that to mean he didn't have to shave or wax any part of himself.
He'd been in a war of attrition with his body hair for at least two years
running. Also, bacon - Tuesdays meant fuck the diet. He changed into the
loosest shirt he had and a pair of work denim he had stolen from Kevin, shoving
his hair under a knit cap. He went down to the servant's kitchen for breakfast.
The talent ate higher quality food, but the auxiliary staff ate the fattening
stuff. Joe felt he earned the right to indulge and if Nick were anywhere this
time of morning, that's where he'd be.
The maids and mechanics and groomsmen were used enough to Joe stopping by that
they didn't say much when he got himself a cup of coffee. Nick was off on the
sideboard with a plate of re-hydrated eggs he was poking at listlessly. When
Joe tapped him on the shoulder he started, slightly, before turning around and
taking him in. Nick looked shy and happy. "Hey. Welcome back."
"Mrrmmphmmrph," Joe said into his mug, sitting down heavily next to him.
Nick plucked at his cap with a teasing little smile. "Very nice." Joe flipped
him off and Nick waved a hand a little. "No, I mean it."
Joe finally put his mug down. "Yeah?"
"You look like you. You don't look like... a doll."
Joe's thoughts at that moment were an electron cloud and the only one he
caught, the one he grabbed onto, was I will never let anything bad happen to
you. He said, "So how about you. You kept out of trouble while I was away?"
It wasn't even that Nick was a shitty liar, although he could be. It was more
that he projected any self-perceived guilt into the world with floodlights.
Nick hunched over, stabbing at his bacon. "I don't know. Yeah. Everything was
fine."
Joe swiped it. Synth meat, which always took a little getting used to after
attending political banquets. "Oh, you spill it right now, you turd."
"Nothing!" Nick insisted, bright red. "Just worked in the laundry, worked my
shift at the piano. Got kind of into a fight with Kevin about the right way to
mix a sidecar."
"I will sit on you," Joe said. Which wasn't the right threat, it just made the
two of them stare at each other a moment, mouth's dry.
Nick finally looked away, clearing his throat. "I mean it, nothing happened.
Just Garbo's been hanging around and I knew it'd piss you off to hear about
it."
Joe said, from very far away, "What's hanging around mean?"
"Nothing!" Nick said again, all whiny and exasperated and embarrassed. "He just
likes to talk about music. That's all. We talk."
"No one comes here just to talk, Nick," Joe said. When Nick didn't answer, he
said, "Nick?" and then before Nick could answer, Joe pulled him up by the arm
and marched him into his and Kevin's empty room.
Nick dragged his feet the entire time, babbling. "You are so embarrassing, I
can't even believe you. I didn't do anything wrong!"
Joe slammed the door behind them. "Not yet. But how stupid can you be, Nick?
What do you think this guy wants from you?"
"Uh, Joe, he's not going to get it. It doesn't work like that! I'm not talent."
"You really think that can't change?" Joe bit out. All the air left the room,
all the heaviness in the air.
Nick's face went slack. He sat on the edge of his bed, toed his guitar case on
the floor. "Oh," he said distantly. "Oh. ...That's okay then."
"What are you talking about?" Joe exploded. "It's not okay! It's not what you
want!"
"You don't know what I want. Don't treat me like a kid," Nick said. It would
have been better if he were petulant but the words were calm, woven hard.
"You're not a kid? Fine, you're an adult. You're such a big fucking grown-up
you'll be fine getting on all fours every night."
"Don't treat me like a kid!" Nick said. "Don't act like I'm stupid! I know
what's going on, Joe!"
Joe crossed his arms. "What's going on?"
"I know what you do for me." Nick bit his lip, but he sounded old, the way
weariness made you old. He looked down, looked up at Joe, kept going. "I don't
have a place here. Kev's here just to keep you happy too, but at least he
serves a purpose. He pulls in an allowance. I'm dead weight. And I'm sick, and
I know what you and Kevin have to go through to get my meds."
Joe's chest hurt like he swallowed something too big. "We get by, Nicky."
"I know what you do!" Nick said. "I know Kevin steals - he could lose his hand
if anyone ever found out, and he steals. And I know you let the dockworkers
take it out in trade. Dockworkers! And you think I didn't notice when I got
back from the hospital you upped your numbers to five a night? You think I
don't see the bruises, Joe?"
Joe sat on Kevin's bed. The mattress groaned. "Nick. It's my job."
"I hate it," Nick said it like a dam breaking. "I hate just having to stand
there and watch them hurt you. I hate watching you have to fawn all over them
and them thinking it's really you. Like you're a lapdog. To pay for all my
stupid medicine. To pay for me."
"It's not just that simple, Nicky. It's not all about that." Joe said gently.
The truth was he'd do so much more. The truth was this conversation was
desiccating and turning Joe into a husk.
Nick scrubbed his arm against his eyes. "Maybe. I don't know. But I guess I'm
talent material now and I should start pulling my weight. And Garbo's a nice
guy, he'd be good to me."
The guitar case was older than Nick at the very least, scuffed to hell and
back. Joe had gotten the guitar from a regular who had lost interest when Joe's
chest hair came in, but he'd been decent enough before that. Joe was thrilled
when he got it because it was this totally awesome new thing. When he showed it
to Nick and Nick plucked a string with a dirty hand, Joe could see Nick's life
begin to make sense to him for the first time. Music taught Nick what Joe and
Kevin had always known, that Nick had the capacity to live for something bigger
than himself. That was when Joe realized, hysterical with helplessness, that
Nick deserved so much more than Joe could ever possibly provide. "He wants to
buy your papers."
Nick shrugged, staring down at his lap. "He sort of brought it up, like, he was
just joking around, you know? But I think he was seeing if I'd be interested.
He said I should go to a music school, he'd pay for it."
"Right," Joe said. His mouth felt sort of numb, and he stood up and turned to
the door. "Right, he's the type who'd do it that way. Okay."
"Joe!" When he looked back, Nick's mouth was pulled in an unhappy line. He was
clutching the mattress. "It's... I guess it works, I guess it's what I want.
But it's not really what I want."
Three street kids and the man had grabbed Joe by the jaw, spat on his palm and
wiped the dirt off Joe's cheekbone. "This one'll go with the trade," he said
and Joe had no idea what that meant, what it would mean for his family that he
had the face he did. He had thrown a giant hissy in the dirt, Madam towering
over him, and that had gotten him Nick. Kevin too. After that, training began
and Joe taught himself to forget what it was to want something.
He didn't answer Nick, just went straight to Madam's office. He sat down when
she looked up. Madam was patient while it took him over a minute to speak. "Did
the cherry put a bid on Nick?"
"This morning." She didn't miss a beat. "A two day off-house engagement. He
plans to take him away for the weekend, it seems."
There were options. There were always options. Beg Doc to rule out trade due to
health reasons, like he had said to Kevin. Joe could lean on the Rep, agree to
get kept by him if he promised to buy Nick and Joe too as household servants.
They could run. Just run. People did it. Nick was just being brave; he was
aping what he thought it meant to be a man. Men pushed being scared to the side
and focused on the greater good.
"I have three hundred now," Joe said, so, so small. "After the weekend. I know
the john's offering more, but..."
Madam cupped his cheek. Her hand was cool and powdery. "It was always meant as
a gift, Joe. Two hundred."
***
Joe's cred-ID was olive green, small and oblong, the cred-ID model of all
Involuntaries. So was Nick's, but his wouldn't be involved in the exchange
until the end of the fortnight. Madam jacked Joe's into her own rectangular
cred-ID, punching out the transfer. "Three fifteen," she commented. "I guess it
really is worth it to sell your scarves on the black market."
Joe, sitting across from her on the desk, didn't answer, just watched the
newsfeed scrawl down her blotter. He didn't look at Nick sitting next to him,
what Nick was looking at. He was pretty sure he must be imagining the heat
radiating off Nick, like a mirage.
Madam handed Joe back his ID and kept her hands folded primly on the table.
"Obviously this is unorthodox, but there's no reason not to keep this
transaction as professional as possible. We may as well go over the guidelines.
Joe, you know you're paying by the act, not the hour. Any further intimacy will
be added to your bill at the end of the evening, yes?"
With a twenty-five percent mark-up, which was why the talent usually did their
best to goad a john into it. "Yeah."
"And I trust I don't have to to remind you that any actions on your part that
endanger the life or well-being of your escort will result in a fine or
possible black mark on your-"
"Yes!" Joe's cheeks were burning. "I know... I mean, no. That won't be a
problem."
"All right," Madam said. "Nick. I'll need your arm for the test."
Joe snuck a glance at Nick out of the corner of his eye. Nick looked serious,
nodding. An overcompensating sort of serious, queasy at the bottom of it. Joe
said, "Ma'am, that's really not nece-"
"I need it for his papers, Joe," Madam said, patiently. She turned back to
Nick. "It's important to document you were untouched before your first time.
Your first time, Nick. I need you to understand that before we get your blood
sample." The way she said it, it wasn't entirely unmaternal.
Nick bit his lip. "I understand," he said, rolling up his sleeve. Madam punched
the needle on the inside of the elbow, into the vein. Joe wasn't looking. He
just remembered that.
"Clean," she said after a moment. "All right, gentlemen. That concludes our
business here. I assume you'd prefer not to be in one of the guest rooms."
Joe shook his head. "No. No, my room's good. It'd be better."
Madam lowered her eyebrows. It was an expression he didn't quite understand,
pity mixed in it somewhere. He had thought she might be more disgusted by this,
the nature of this desire. Maybe she was used to dealing with baser urges, if
not necessarily more twisted ones. Either way, she let them file out of her
office in silence.
Nick shut Joe's door behind them and stood there, hands in his pockets. He
nudged a vest Joe had left on the floor with his toe. Nick had been this quiet
for the past hour, since Madam called him in to explain. Nick was a quiet soul,
but with a watching, working mind. His silences usually masked an internal
vibrancy, the masterpieces and cathedrals he was continually building in his
head. Now he looked empty, a membrane inflated around nothing at all. Joe sat
down on his unmade bed. His room smelled; he was aware of that suddenly. "You
can sit, man."
Nick sort of shrugged, jerkily, a quirk to his mouth. For all of Madam's lip
service to ceremony, Nick was wearing his work clothes. The idea of perfume had
never occurred to anyone; his hair wasn't even combed. It was stunning, how he
shone through all that. "Is that how it goes? Do I get wine or something?"
Joe scuffed his heel on the floor. "Please don't be an asshole."
"I'm not!" Nick said. "I'm not." He settled on the trunk at the foot of Joe's
narrow, single bed, where Joe kept his clothes. It creaked under Nick's weight.
"Here, I'm sitting."
"How gracious of you," Joe muttered. He felt nauseous and he was getting hard
already, just from Nick being nearby with betrayal etched on his face. They
were quiet for a long time.
"Remember when I walked in on you and Taylor?" Nick said. Nick had walked in on
him and Zac once too, but Taylor had been the one to ask if Nick wanted to join
in. The talent screwed each other out of boredom or to let off steam, so it
surprised Joe how extraordinarily pissed she was at him when he turned her down
after that. Nick continued, blurting out, "I thought about it. I thought about
it a lot."
"Oh." Joe's mouth was dry. He didn't know how to react. Maybe that was Nick's
way of forgiving him for being this monstrously selfish. Before he was even
really aware of it, Joe had taken Nick's hand and started tracing meaningless
patterns onto his palm with the tip of his nail.
Nick made a noise, this airless little whimper. And Joe was grabbing at his
sides, but Nick was using his own momentum anyway to fall on the bed. He ended
up jumbled half on Joe's lap, and hitching in breaths as he kissed Joe, their
noses bumping together. Nick tasted bitter like coffee and he grabbed Joe's
hair. Kissing Nick before, hidden and giggly, had felt safe. This was more like
the last time they touched, those uncharted waters.
"I'll make it good for you," Joe promised, clutching at Nick's back. "I can
make it good. It's going to hurt a little, but that won't last and then I swear
it will just feel so good."
"Shut up," Nick said wetly into Joe's mouth, sort of a laugh. His hands were
cold worming their way under Joe's shirt - his nothing of a t-shirt. "I don't -
I don't care. Don't try to sell me on it - I'm not mad."
He was, or maybe it was just Joe who was, but either way he didn't want to
belabor the issue. Joe held Nick's face between his hands and fed on his mouth,
working on his tongue with hot little pulls. Nick kept mimicking him, biting
where Joe bit, sucking where Joe sucked. Not at all timid, but still Joe had
never felt so powerful.
They broke off to undress, at first fumbling with each other's clothes but it
became clear that wasn't working. Every time their fingers touched it just led
to kissing again, wild and distracting. Finally Joe batted Nick away to tug off
his own shirt, shuck off his pants. Nick was staring at him when he turned
around. He was breathing hard, flushed down to his collarbones, a watercolor
shade against the purity of his complexion. His eyes were dark. He was giving
Joe a dark look. Joe almost wanted to call time out - his dick practically
hurt, his head was swimming. But he didn't even know how to slow this down, let
alone stop it.
He fell back on his training, eased Nick back on the bed, molding his hands
over the planes and valleys of Nick's musculature. The long, narrow taper of
his face. Nick arched into every touch, making a reedy little noise in its
wake. Nick's cock was straining against his stomach, angry looking, and he
already had that pleasure-stupid daze written all over him. Sixteen and never
touched. If Joe weren't careful, Nick was just going to pop.
He bit Nick's jaw and then his nipple, reaching down to cup Nick's balls. Nick
made a noise like his breath got stuck in his throat, but the sensation was
alien enough his hard-on faded somewhat. He clutched Joe's hair and said,
almost anguished, "Joe."
"Shh," Joe said. He kissed Nick again, messy, and grabbed the slick on the
nightstand. Nick propped himself on his elbows and watched with fever
glittering in his eyes as Joe slicked his hand up. His little brother. The
thought flipped his stomach, but not nearly enough to make him stop. Joe drew
Nick's legs up until his feet were resting flat on the bed. "You okay?"
"Joe!" Nick said again, but that was just bossy. Joe gave him what he wanted
though, pressed past the resistance and slid his fingers inside Nick.
The sensations played out on Nick's face, an odd little melody of ticks. Joe
went slow, not agonizingly slow, but slow enough. Nick drew his legs back down
the bed, pushed his chest up, moving. Writhing. Like that would bring on a
different kind of feeling beyond the stretch. Like he didn't know the only
thing that would change the feeling was Joe crooking his finger, hitting a spot
that made Nick shout like it was punched out of him.
Joe wrapped his other hand around the base of Nick's cock. His fingers were
shaking. He wanted to tease, he wanted to be impressive. Instead this cloud
just took over and Joe sucked Nick down until his nose nestled against Nick's
pubic hair. The taste and texture made Joe whimper, made his mouth grow wet
until his chin was damp with it. This couldn't be that good, really, compared
to most of Joe's work. Joe was too desperate for it to be skillful. But Nick
made another noise, more of a cry, and his hips started jerking. One hard
thrust at first, but Joe's fingers slipped out of him and Nick whined with
frustration and pushed back again. Joe steadied a hand on Nick's hip and just
went down deep, swallowing. He just wanted to be used. His pulse was pounding
like a jungle drum, leaving him woozy.
Nick kept trying to say things, Joe could make out dimly. "Good," he'd start
out, twisting himself around, or "Joe," or "I - I wanted." Precome trickled
over Joe's tongue and he pulled off regretfully with a noise like suction,
pulling his fingers out too. Nick made an injured noise, staring at Joe like he
didn't understand why Joe would leave him empty. Joe didn't either. Nick should
never be empty, he should always be full.
"Shh," he said again, pulling Nick's leg over his shoulder, and Nick said,
"fuck you, just - oh." because Joe was guiding his dick inside him. Already
inside him, just enough. Nick was tight and hot and soft, muscles fluttering
around Joe's cock. He threw a hand over his face, tensing up with pain. Joe
forced himself still, quaking with the effort, and palmed Nick's cock until he
relaxed around Joe's dick enough for Joe to move, to go deeper. Joe used long
rolling motions when Nick's hips flexed to accommodate him, driving into him.
Into Nick. The one thing in the galaxy that was ever really his.
These noises kept leaking out of Joe, whiney highs, guttural lows. Nick was
unyielding around him, holding him, and Joe had never felt more a physical
creature in his life. It was like being an animal, entirely existing in this
present where there was only him moving inside Nick. That was everything there
needed to be. Joe rubbed Nick's cheek, rubbed a hand over his mouth. Nick
sucked on his thumb and Joe said, "Fuck," and sped up, not even pretending he
had control over this now. He couldn't talk. Usually Joe was a talker, but
there wasn't enough room in his chest to speak.
"Yeah," Nick murmured, speeding up, encouraging. And then louder, "yes, Joe,
that, there!" when Joe started stroking him off and finding the good places
again and again and again. He came like it surprised him, choking on a moan.
And Joe followed helplessly, shooting deep inside Nick as Nick painted strips
over their stomachs, gluing them together when Joe collapsed on top of him. It
was so good. Joe struggled with this brief flash of anger that no one had ever
told him it could be good like that.
"Nick," Joe said when his head stopped ringing, almost too quietly to be heard.
"Damn, Nick. I'm..." His fingers ghosted over the cut of Nick's groin muscle.
Touching it now before it became open property.
Nick sighed, a long sound. An untethered sort of sigh. He closed his eyes. "I
wanted it. I wanted you to be first."
They had to spoon to both fit on Joe's bed. Nick was all ropey muscle in Joe's
arms, all fresh and green smells. Hay and dirt and come.
***
Nick fell asleep eventually, the adrenaline dip. Out of the three of them, Nick
had the easiest time unlearning his street kid instincts, but sudden noises
made him jolt as much as anyone. Joe was careful opening his trunk, getting
dressed. The room was too dark to watch Nick sleep in any satisfying capacity,
so he left.
The cherry - Nick's Garbo - was dressed the way rich people got to dress,
clothes not meant for heavy labor, sleep or socializing. Casual. Shock scrolled
over his expression when he saw Joe in the doorway of his hotel and Joe made
his way in before Garbo could object. "Whoah - hey. Hello?"
Joe prowled through the living room of the suite, paused to root around the
fruit bowl. "Hi, Doc. Oh hey, peaches."
To his credit, Garbo regained some poise pretty quickly. His rooms were light
and open, the city glittering out beneath them past the patio, the welcoming
threat of Joe's world. "Help yourself, I guess. What are you doing here? How
did you get here?"
Joe snorted, pocketing nectarines. "They don't lock us up when we're not
working. And anyway, please. I own this town."
Garbo raised his eyebrows, slid the electronic imprint of the newsfeed over to
Joe's table. "I guess you do." Top story, the photo was the Rep shaking hands
with a high ranking member of the quartz lobby, Joe demurely on his arm. "I
didn't know you were kind of a celebrity. Word around town is he's planning on
buying your papers out."
Joe shrugged with one shoulder. "People try." That was well done, he didn't
sound panicky at all. "I'm good at my job. You want to know why I'm good at my
job?"
"I can guess," Garbo said carefully. He was sitting on the back of a couch,
arms loosely folded. Confused and slightly amused, a little tense. But
listening, that was the only important part.
"That's definitely part of it," Joe said. "But also I can read people. That's
what I do. I read people and I become who they want me to be. And one thing I
never got about you is why you're even here. You don't like the idea of
involuntary service. I'd bet everything I got you never once voted for Mr.
Representative there. You got dragged here on vacation, I got that, and there's
gambling and theater, above-board stuff. But why the change of heart about
talent workers?"
Garbo shook out his hair slightly, as if marvelling at the mystery himself. He
was blushing, just barely. "You owne... your Madam told me about your brother's
unusual situation. I can understand why you would be upset."
"Oh I really don't think you do," Joe said.
Garbo looked right at him. He had a nice face, an endearing face. "He's a
special kid. He can have a better life. I can give him one. His music, he could
be given real training-"
"Don't do it," Joe blurted out. "Don't buy him. Just - please. Don't."
Garbo uncrossed and recrossed his arms. "Joseph-"
"You don't love him," Joe said. "You saw this one untouched thing in a
whorehouse and you got interested, because a guy like you, you don't like easy.
You like exotic. You like pure. And he is great, and boy, doesn't it seem
romantic, to take him away from all this. But it won't work like that. It
can't, it never does."
Garbo's mouth was a thin line, his posture tighter. "You're presuming an awful
lot."
"For a hooker?" Joe said. Garbo opened his mouth, flushed, looked away.
"Because that's all he will be to you in the end. No matter how you dress it
up. If you buy someone, they're property. And he won't love you, he won't ever
love you. He'll be grateful to you, but he'll be trying to be who you want. Not
who he is. And you're not someone who wants that. You're better than that.
Please. Please be better than that."
Garbo stared, too patronizing to be as flabbergasted as he really wanted to be.
Joe stared back, chest in a vice. This was a clumsy, stupid gamble, but Joe had
been riding on luck his entire life and maybe it was strong enough to carry him
to shore.
Garbo looked at the picture again, at Joe in the picture. "How old are you
anyway?"
Joe said, "I'm not really sure."
Garbo just sat there, thinking quietly, for another hyperventilating minute
before he said, "If you get bought, the outcome's the same anyway. You'll be
seperated."
Joe nodded, looking down. "If you really want to help Nick, there are better
ways. You can save three people, not just one."
It took a moment, but finally Garbo sighed again. He went to sit over by Joe,
jostling his shoulder. "I can't believe I'm going to listen to this."
***
When Kevin knocked on the door of the blue room to tell him Nick had fainted,
Joe had just finished up with a client. He bolted without a backwards glance at
the john, keeping pace with Kevin despite his bare feet.
Nick was on a couch in Madam's office, pale, bruises like burn scars under his
eyes. Garbo was hovering over him, reading numbers off some gun-shaped thing.
Joe cried, "Nick!" and lunged, but Kevin held him back, as drawn as he himself
was.
Garbo looked up from his instrument to Madam, who was holding Nick's limp hand.
"It's the diabetes. He's gone hypoglycemic. We don't have the equipment to deal
with it on the planet - he'll need to be put on a medshuttle to the nearest
emergency center."
"What?" Joe said. "What does any of that mean? What did you do to him, you
bastard!"
"Joe!" Madam admonished. She turned back to Garbo. "How much would that cost?"
"It would be on me," Garbo said. "Consider it my payment for his services."
"If Nick goes anywhere, we're coming too," Kevin said firmly.
Madam looked down at Nick, calculations running through her mind. "He needs to
go. And ne of you I can spare for a few weeks. But both of you? Absolutely
not."
"Actually, it's very likely he'll need a blood transfusion. It's important to
have as many potential donors as possible," Garbo said. He was unconsciously
running two fingers against the inside of Nick's wrist, half-hidden by his
stance, and Joe felt a pang somewhere. "I really insist they come."
It was a blurr waiting for the shuttle to arrive, packing, carrying Nick to the
door. Joe didn't look back when he went through the doors, not at Madam or
Garbo or Zac or anyone. He felt Kevin by his side and Nick close to his chest
as they carried him, and all he needed was to look down. Take-off was jolting
and made it hard to set Nick up on the bed.
Nick murbled into consciousness as the atmosphere gave way to vacuum. According
to Garbo's instructions, they fed him orange juice from a straw and made him
eat a chocolate bar very slowly. Finally Nick asked, voice a rasp, "Did it
work?"
Joe brushed Nick's curls off his face. "So far. We're out of orbit and we have
the cred-IDs Garbo got for us. It's all up to us to find a way to disappear
once we land though."
Nick gave a woozy smile. He slurred, "No problems. Kev... Kev, can I have some
water?"
Kevin smiled back. He still looked a little sick and the way Joe felt, that
none of this had really sunk in yet. "Sure thing, kiddo."
Nick tugged on Joe's shoulder the second Kevin left, pulling him into a dry
kiss. His mouth was still thick with juice and the angle was awkward, but they
were beyond the cloudline now. Liberated like a comet, hurtling through a
universe full of music lessons and medical academies. Somewhere in all of that
had to be a place where a kiss could be free. "We're gonna start over," Nick
said. He was still woozy, but Joe knew what he meant. He believed him.
"Yeah. Brand new," he said. Nick rolled over and Joe climbed on the cot with
him, settling in, letting Kevin keep watch. They slept.
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