Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/544800.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Jonas_Brothers
  Relationship:
      Joe_Jonas/Nick_Jonas
  Character:
      Joe_Jonas, Kevin_Jonas_Sr., Denise_Jonas, Nick_Jonas
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Dubious_Consent, Alternate_Universe_-_Robots_&_Androids
  Series:
      Part 1 of We_Mechanical_Men
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-24 Words: 4600
****** We Mechanical Men ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     After Kevin moves away to college and Nick is diagnosed with
     diabetes, Nick’s parents present him with a gift: a Nexus-Five
     android by Anthropos Inc. “Think of it as your new brother.”
Nick’s thirteenth birthday is definitely one of his best: the whole family goes
bowling and he scores the highest; Kevin, who’d flown in from college for the
weekend, gives him this really nice watch, all silver and sleek and adult; and
they’re allowed to stay up late having a Star Wars marathon. Nick doesn’t even
mind it when his dad gives him a talk about responsibility and not being a
child any more, and his mom clutches him with suspiciously damp eyes, saying,
“Oh, honey, you’re a teenager now. You’re growing up!” He figures she’s allowed
to say embarrassing mom stuff on his birthday – for a few more years, anyway.
It’s after his birthday that things start going downhill.
He’s not working out or being more active than normal, but he finds himself
tired, headache-y. He’s thirsty all the time, drinking a lot of water to keep
his energy up, but all it does is send him to the bathroom more often. He’s
irritable, snappish, lashing out at his family – he even overhears his mom
talking on the phone to Kevin about his ‘attitude’ or whatever, sounding
concerned. Kevin’s on loudspeaker, so Nick hears it when he says, “It’s – it’s
probably just his hormones. He’s going through a lot of changes right now; I
wouldn’t worry about it.”
Nick gets so angry that they’re talking about him behind his back, he wants to
go to Kevin’s old room and throw his things around, ruin them. He doesn’t
though, because that would just vindicate everything they’re saying about him,
how he’s childish and immature.
Things come to a head a little over a month later. He eats the same amount as
he’s always done, but keeps getting skinnier; it worries him, but when he looks
it up on the ‘net, it just says that weight loss during puberty isn’t abnormal.
He is growing, but not that much, not enough to warrant his gangling arms and
knobby knees and ribs that stick out too much, but he makes himself shrug it
off. His parents keep urging him to eat more, but nothing works; he loses about
fifteen pounds in three weeks. He’s tired and achy and wants everyone to leave
him alone, God, would they just –
and at what’s supposed to be a routine health check up, the doctor takes too
long and keeps asking all these questions and frowning, fine lines on her
forehead. Her fingers are cold and poking him and she has him admitted to the
nearest hospital. He has to wear a paper gown, too thin, and he wants to go
home, but they insist on performing a barrage of tests. Shining lights in his
eyes, pricking him with needles until finally they sit him down, mom holding
his hand too tight in a white-knuckled grip and his dad leaning heavily on his
mom’s shoulder, eyes over-bright –
“Your son has type one diabetes.” Silence expands and fills the room, drowns
them, brims up and up and over.
 
They’re sent home with handfuls of pamphlets, red and blue and green, with
titles like ‘Young Persons Living with Diabetes’ and ‘Managing Type 1
Diabetes’, Nick’s head spinning with information. Nick’s dad calls Kevin that
night and he ends up flying home and taking the week off school. He makes a
huge fuss over Nick and tells him it’s going to be okay, hugging Nick so tight
he coughs and thumps Kevin’s back in protest. Nick loves it and hates it at the
same time – it’s hard to keep his composure when people keep babying him, and
for some reason the nicer people are to him, the worse he feels about his
situation.
Four months go by, five, six. His parents take Nick out of public school and
start homeschooling him. He learns how to inject himself with insulin multiple
times a day, routinely check his blood sugar levels. He gets frustrated,
rearranging his life around this new, inconvenient condition, but it also helps
him realise how lucky he was and still is, and while he may not be in perfect
health anymore he still has his family by his side, steadfast as always.
One afternoon, after he’s finished his homework, he’s idly noodling on his
guitar when he hears his mom yell from downstairs. “Nick? Can you come down for
a minute?”
He puts the guitar down and trots to the lounge. “Yes mom?” he says, stepping
into the room. His mom and dad are standing in the middle of the room holding
hands.
He stops when he sees a stranger sitting on the couch and hovers awkwardly. The
stranger is dark-haired, a little tanned. Maybe a few years older than Nick. He
smiles at Nick placidly and Nick gives a dorky hand wave back. He flushes when
his mom laughs.
“Nick, honey, that’s what your dad and I wanted to talk to you about. We
decided that since you’ve been working so hard and doing so well the last few
months, we’d buy you an android.”
Nick’s breath catches. “You shouldn’t have – androids are really expensive. How
did we afford this?” He can’t keep his eyes from the machine, constantly
smiling, so calm as they speak over his – its – head.
Dad rubs his the back of his neck with his free hand like he’s embarrassed.
“Well, Kevin has that scholarship, so we’re not paying as much tuition as we
could be, and we took out a loan.” He watches Nick’s face carefully. “It’s a
Nexus-Five model by Anthropos. Not the newest model, but a good one, or so said
the company representative.”
“But still,” says Nick, furiously working out in his head how much an android
like that would cost. $20 000? More? “It must have cost a big chunk of our
savings.”
Mom leans into dad’s chest, smile broadening. “It was worth it, though. Kevin’s
off at college, and both your dad and I work – you must get lonely. Nick, we
talked it over and you deserve a treat. It’s a good investment and it’s even
programmed to help you manage your diabetes. These androids are meant to be
very realistic. Think of it as your new brother.”
Nick isn’t sure how he feels about his parents buying an android to babysit him
– he was managing just fine and it kind of sounds as if they don’t trust him –
but he doesn’t want to be ungrateful. He hugs and kisses them both, thanks
them.
“Do you know what you’re going to name him?” asks his dad, off-hand.
Nick licks his lips, thinking. “Joe,” he says decisively. “I like the name
Joe.”
                                       *
Lying on his stomach in bed, Nick watches the android he’d settled on the desk
chair. Its posture is perfect, eyes closed. It looks completely lifeless.
Nick chews his lip. The manual had said to let the android charge for twenty-
four hours before use and that time period had lapsed half an hour ago. Nick
had had to close the thing’s eyes before going to bed the night before, unable
to relax with that unblinking gaze on him. He’d felt kind of silly, getting
freaked out, but he’d slept much better afterwards. Now it was waiting in
standby mode for him to greet it for the first time.
“Hello, Nexus-Five.” His throat is dry with nerves.
The android’s eyelids slowly rise before its mouth curves up. It blinks, once,
twice, and stretches languidly, back arching, coming to life before Nick’s
eyes. “Hello, Nicholas,” it says warmly. It doesn’t sound like Nick expects.
He’s not sure what he expected.
He clutches the manual. “H-how do you know my name? And it’s just Nick.”
“The order was under your name, Nicholas Jerry Jonas. Nick.” It laughs a
little, a pleasant sound.
“Oh, right,” says Nick, feeling absurdly embarrassed. It’s not like it was
laughing at him; it’s not like it can actually find things amusing. It’s
programmed to respond to stimulus, a convincing simulacrum of human behaviour,
not the real thing. It’s hard to keep that in mind, though, when it looks and
sounds so human.
He watches as it unplugs itself from the wall socket and wanders around his
bedroom, peering at photographs and picking up soccer trophies. There’s nothing
about it that makes it obvious it isn’t a person; it’s movements are just a
touch too fluid, loose, but even then it could just be someone who’s
particularly graceful. Although Nick knows that robotics has progressed in
leaps and bounds, he still kind of expects it to bump into the table and spin
around, arms flailing helplessly, ‘Danger! Danger!’
Nick snickers at the thought and it looks over its shoulder at him, a fond
expression on its face. It makes Nick’s breath catch.
“Hey, could you, uh. Could you come here for a minute?”
It moves close to the bed, head tipped to the side in inquiry. “What’s up,
Nick?”
“Umm,” says Nick, more interested in smoothing his hands across the android’s
stomach, its sides. He accidentally brushes the bare skin of its arms and is
startled by how warm and soft it feels, alive. This close, he can see the faint
freckles dotting the bridge of its nose. He carefully presses an ear against
its gently moving chest, imitating the rise and fall of lungs – expecting what,
he wonders. A heartbeat? Soft, whirring sounds from its processors working? –
and hears nothing.
He pulls back, disconcerted, and meets the android’s inquisitive gaze. It
starts to frown, seeing the look on Nick’s face. “Is there anything wrong?”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” says Nick, smoothing his face out and trying to project
reassurance. It seems to work because the android looks mollified. They stare
at each other for a bit, taking in everything. Nick finally breaks the silence
when he says, “I’m going to call you Joe. You’re my brother, now.”
A grin breaks across Joe’s face, huge and a little goofy. Nick’s dazed by how
bright it is.
“Thanks for the name, Nick. I love it,” Joe whispers in his ear.
 
Nick makes himself read through the Nexus-Five manual once cover to cover, even
though some parts of it go over his head, before he lets himself start to
experiment with Joe. It takes him a whole week. He keeps glancing at Joe,
sitting in the corner of his room, quiescent, waiting for someone to wake him
up, but Nick manfully resists. Apparently Joe’s a self-developing AI,
programmed to learn and expand by responding to stimulus. He’s equipped with
enough memory to last a couple of years, though if he runs low Nick can return
him to Anthropos to get him upgraded for an exorbitant price.
“So when my parents ordered you, they specified that you should be capable of
testing blood and delivering insulin and all that?”
“Yep,” says Joe into Nick’s hair, and Nick can feel silk against the back of
his neck. Joe has this weird penchant for wearing little scarves as ties, only
he wears them under instead of over his shirt so that they touch his bare skin.
They’re lounging on the couch, Joe curled up behind Nick, an arm over his
stomach. Nick’s learnt that Joe’s really tactile, curious; he likes to play
with Nick’s hair or fingers. Nick’s beginning to think that he and Joe’s ideas
of what brothers are like differ – he and Kevin never touched this much – but
Nick hasn’t said anything. It’s not like it’s a giant hardship to be cuddled,
strangely less embarrassing than if it were anyone else in his family. Things
are just different with Joe.
“I can vary the level of insulin depending on what you eat, so don’t sweat any
of that. I’ve also got wifi so I can help you with homework if you want, like a
big brother should.” Joe pauses, “And I can do loads of other fun stuff like,
uh, cartwheels. I’m pretty awesome,” he finishes in a satisfied tone.
Nick stays still in Joe’s arms, comfortable. His eyes are sliding closed when
Joe ruins the moment by tickling him, and they wrestle for the next ten
minutes, getting sweaty. It ends with Joe pinning Nick down on the carpet, legs
wrapped around him.
“I win,” pants Joe.
“Whatever,” says Nick, spitting Joe’s hair out of his mouth. “Hey Joe, what’s
my glucose level?”
Joe slides a hand down Nick’s arm so that they’re holding hands. Nick feels a
tiny sting in the palm of his hand before Joe says, “About 100 mg/dL, yikes.
That’s lower than I’d like; do you want an orange juice?”
He’s off to the kitchen without waiting for a reply. Nick huffs and sits back
up on the couch.
After Joe comes back with a glass and Nick finishes the drink, they work
together on Nick’s homework booklet. Nick generally finds drawing polyhedra and
memorising their properties pretty boring, but Joe keeps cracking jokes and
making up dumb songs about angles and it’s not as mind-numbing as usual. Time
seems to pass amazingly quickly.
At the dinner table, after Nick’s plugged Joe into the wall socket – “G’night,”
said Joe sleepily, smiling up at Nick before stealthily messing up his hair,
the jerk – Nick can’t stop grinning, with teeth and everything. His parents
notice, of course.
“Enjoying the android?” asks his mom. She and his dad exchange self-satisfied
looks.
It shocks Nick, how quickly his mood deflates at the phrase ‘the android’. It’s
so easy to forget that Joe isn’t flesh and blood and bone, just a bionic
skeleton that’s been built upon; that his little quirks and personality are
just the result of algorithms and subroutines coded into him by nameless,
faceless scientists. That he systematically assimilates information and reacts
accordingly in the expansion of his AI. Not because he’s a person, a human
being. Nick’s brother.
“Yeah,” says Nick with a weak smile. “He’s – Joe’s pretty great.”
                                       *
Months pass, as well as Nick’s fourteenth birthday, and he quickly forgets what
life was like before he had Joe. He can’t imagine being without Joe leaning
into his space, warm and solid, wide smile and always encouraging. Nick never
knew how lonely he was before Joe, even though he had Kevin and his mom and
dad. Then Joe usually comes along and spoils Nick's good will by doing things
like sneaking up on him when it’s his turn to do the dishes and swatting his
ass.
Nick yelps and whirls around, scowling. He can’t retaliate because he’s wearing
dish-washing gloves which are sudsy besides, and his mom would kill him if he
messed up the kitchen. Instead, he has to watch Joe bound away out of reach,
laughing his head off.
“I did some research on acceptable familial behaviour,” says Joe, so wide-eyed
and innocent it’s obvious he’s faking. And anyway, Nick knows that Joe only
speaks like that when he’s setting up for a joke.
Joe proves Nick correct in his assumption by adding, “I've been watching
Malcolm in the Middle.”
Oh, that was just, that was so – “Great,” says Nick flatly. He turns back to
the sink, face feeling hot. He’s probably all red. His butt cheek stings.
“Hey,” says Nick later that night. They’re lying on top of Nick’s bedspread,
feet tangled together, watching Batman Begins on the portable DVD player. Joe
is a long line of heat along Nick’s side. Lately, Nick’s been increasingly
aware of Joe in a way he wasn’t before, skin prickling with knowledge. “How do
you stay so clean? Like, you never smell bad or anything.”
Joe snorts and nearly falls off the bed, he’s laughing so hard.
“What? What is it? Stop it!” Nick slaps at Joe wherever he can reach, feeling
hurt and embarrassed. Joe is the worst android ever. Nick’s definitely going to
write Anthropos Inc. an angry letter about their inferior – no, crappy –
products.
“Aw, Nicky, c’mon, I’m not laughing at you.” Joe starts to wrap his arms around
Nick, but Nick hunches away and tries to roll off the bed. Joe manages to stop
him from escaping at the last second. “No, I promise, I’m not laughing at you,
I’m just laughing. You just make me happy.”
Nick lets Joe pull him back onto the bed and arrange their bodies into a big
spoon and little spoon. He gradually relaxes into Joe’s hold, feeling Joe
nuzzle the back of his neck like an overgrown puppy.
“I don’t sweat or anything so I don’t need to clean myself as often as you do.
But I usually shower after you go to bed anyway; I only need six hours max to
recharge so I have some spare time. I don’t need you to, like, bathe me. I’m a
marvel of modern technology; I am capable of looking after myself, Nicholas
Jerry.”
The thought of Joe doing things by himself, without Nick, makes Nick
uncomfortable, fluttery in his throat. It’s just – Joe was made for Nick, so he
shouldn’t have this whole other life away from him where he takes showers and
stuff. He could be doing all kinds of things! Without Nick! It was
unconscionable.
“You don’t have to sneak around to have showers,” says Nick, a little angrily.
He’s partly mad at himself for not taking better care of Joe; his parents had
entrusted him with a crazy expensive android and he wasn’t even looking after
him properly. “You can have them around me. I don’t like secrets.”
Joe clutches him tighter. “Sorry,” he whispers.
They lie there for a while in silence. After the first week, when his mom made
that comment about Joe at dinner, Nick hadn’t been able to make himself forget
that Joe’s not really his brother but an android. A self-developing AI. Nick
wonders if Joe is really sorry. Does he truly feel human emotion or does he
merely perform a convincing simulation? Nick’s done some research and in
theory, the software in Joe can evolve enough so that he does have feelings,
but Nick isn’t sure how far off that is. He imagines new neural networks being
created in Joe’s brain – his cerebral processor – lighting up, sparking.
He wriggles on the bed until he’s facing Joe, inches away. One of Joe’s arms is
still slung around him, Joe folds the other under his own cheek.
“Do you love me?” asks Nick in a hushed voice.
“Of course I do,” Joe replies, equally as quiet. He drops a kiss on Nick’s
head. “Dumbass.”
Eventually Nick falls asleep, too tired to worry anymore. He only wakes up when
he feels Joe trying to leave the bed without disturbing Nick, which is pretty
hard considering Nick’s managed to wrap himself around Joe like an octopus. The
DVD player’s screen is dark. Joe immediately notices that Nick’s awake.
“Well hi there, sleepy head. I’m going to have a shower now, if that’s okay
with you,” he teases.
Nick yawns and nods, magnanimous, and Joe pads out of the bedroom and into the
bathroom. He starts stripping off without closing the door, turns the water on
to warm it up. Nick shifts into a more comfortable position and settles in to
watch, drowsing.
Joe’s tan all over, his chest only slightly lighter than his face and arms. He
steps under the spray of water, closing the glass door behind him with a quiet
snick. Everyone’s asleep but them, the whole house quiet, the soft sound of
rushing water the only noise.
The water flattens Joe’s hair against his head, smoothing out its curls. Nick
watches him tip his face up to the water, letting it run over his nose and down
his throat, his chest. He eschews the bar of soap and picks up the bottle of
scented body wash – Nick’s mother’s, notes Nick, amused. Vanilla scented –
pouring it into his hand. He moves out from under the spray and starts washing
his neck, moving down to his armpits and chest, his back, before stepping into
the water again.
The sudsy water sluices down Joe’s body, the broad plane of his back, the long
lines of his legs. The heat turns his skin pink, sleek muscles gliding
underneath. Nick is abruptly awake, heart thudding in his chest. He turns on
the bed so that he’s only staring at the wall, but his mind keeps replaying the
silky glide of soap and water over the small of Joe’s back, in the channel
between his buttocks.
Soon Nick hears the water turn off and a few minutes later Joe’s leaning over
him. There’s a towel turban on his head and steam rises off his skin. His
nipples are dark against his chest. His eyelashes are damp, spiky, a drop or
water or two caught on them, glittering.
“You going to bed now?” Joe asks.
“Yep.”
“You want to get under the blanket?”
“Nope.”
“‘kay then. Sweet dreams.”
After Joe’s in what Nick privately thinks of as Joe’s chair and recharging,
Nick finally lets himself look at him, drink his fill. Joe’s taken off his
towel turban and his hair drips water onto his bare chest. His face is smooth,
unlined; probably will be forever unless Nick requests Joe’s appearance be
remodelled. There’s a lump in Nick’s throat that won’t go away. He doesn’t know
how it got there in the first place.
Nick squeezes his eyes shut and finally lets himself think it: he loves Joe.
How could he not? That perfect boy in the corner of his bedroom had been built
specially for him, tailor-made. Nick hadn’t had a choice at all.
He feels something welling up inside him, filling him until he feels as if he’s
going to burst, overwhelmed. “I am so glad my parents gave you to me,” he
whispers fiercely.
Best present ever.
 
“Ah! Careful,” Nick grits out from between his teeth.
Joe hushes him, still looking horribly guilty. “Sorry, sorry.”
They’d been roughhousing in the backyard when Nick had suddenly folded up,
gasping. It felt as if someone had hit him on his leg, hard, just behind and
below his knee. Joe carried him inside the house, crooning softly, Nick too
preoccupied with fighting back the tears threatening to slip out to object.
They’re alone in the house, Nick’s dad’s working, and his mom had gone out
after Nick’s lesson.
Joe sets Nick up on the couch, laying him flat on his back and propping his
hurt leg up with a few cushions. Joe hustles to the kitchen to grab a cold pack
and after he’s wrapped it, he starts pressing it against Nick’s calf,
inspecting the area as he does so.
“There’s swelling,” he murmurs. “Bruising on your ankle and foot, but nothing
too bad. I’d say it’s not a serious sprain.”
“Wow, Joe, that is such great news,” Nick bites out snippily.
“You’re a brat,” Joe tells him in a fond tone.
Closing his eyes, Nick tries to ignore the hot waves of pain radiating up his
leg, concentrating instead on Joe’s warm presence curled protectively over him.
It works, sort of. He opens his eyes some unknown period of time later to find
Joe dumping the half-melted cold pack and carefully wrapping an ace bandage
around his calf. It twinges and he winces. Joe hushes him and rubs his thigh,
comforting.
“You should stay off your leg for at least a day. Want me to put something on
the TV?”
Nick sniffs. “Sure.”
He makes Joe sit on the floor next to the couch instead of in one of the arm
chairs, and Joe keeps rubbing at Nick’s stomach and thighs as they watch Judge
Judy and Oprah. Joe gets a bowl of the passion-fruit ice cream Nick’s mom made
for him and insists on spoon-feeding him. He misses Nick’s mouth several times
on purpose and that’s how Nick ends up with ice cream all over his cheeks and
chin. But Nick gets him back by pulling his hair when he’s too slow to dodge,
so they’re about even.
Joe cleans them up with a damp cloth and Nick spends the next hour bored out of
his mind, watching Joe putter around the house, tidying up. He had brought Nick
a book to read but he wasn’t in the mood.
“Hey,” Nick calls out. “Do you want me to teach you to play the guitar? I mean,
when I’m better.” He gestures down his body.
Joe’s whole face brightens, making Nick feel hot under his collar. “Yes! Sure!
That would be great.”
Watching Joe picking up shoes and rearranging the bookcases, Nick’s hit again
by a wave of satisfaction at the thought that Joe is his, his brother. Nick can
do anything he wants with him. Joe loves him, he said so, and maybe Nick
doesn’t know if Joe really feels what he thinks he does but it's clear he
believes it, and that’s close enough for Nick. Nick arches his back, getting
comfortable, and keeps watching.
He waits a little more before asking, “Hey Joe? Can you come here?”
“What’s up, Nick?” Joe smiles down at him, warming him to his toes.
“Can you do what you were doing before? The, uh, massage thing.”
“No problem.”
Perched on the edge of the couch, Joe leans over and starts rubbing Nick’s
stomach and chest, soothing circles. It feels – it feels really, really good.
Joe has the best hands, thinks Nick, half-delirious with it. So strong,
exerting just the right amount of pressure. He wonders if the strength in them
is an android thing or if a person could give a massage just as well. He finds
it hard to believe. Fighting against the way his eyelids want to drop, Nick
keeps his gaze on Joe’s face, his intent expression, and lets the feeling roll
over him.
Making a small, pleased noise, Nick twists and shifts, parting his legs. He
realises he’s half-hard, has been for a while. He licks his lips nervously, but
Joe doesn’t say anything and he relaxes.
When Joe accidentally brushes one of Nick’s nipples, he hisses and grabs Joe’s
hand. His dick feels so full, heavy. “Can you – ?” he says, and draws Joe’s
hand down his body.
“Nick ... ?” says Joe, looking uncertain for the first time, eyes huge and dark
in his face.
“You know what to do, right?”
Joe nods and slowly unbuttons Nick’s pants. When he carefully unzips, Nick
nearly groans. Joe reaches over for the lotion on the end table and squirts
some in his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it up. He lifts and pulls
Nick’s underwear under his balls and hesitates before grasping his dick.
Nick does groan aloud this time, fingers curling. Joe jerks him off leisurely,
long, languid strokes. The sunlight falling through the windows brings out the
highlights in his hair, makes him squint slightly. His hand twists at the end
of each upstroke, making Nick’s breath hitch in cadence. It feels slippery-hot
and so good. The room is filled these wet, sucking sounds, Nick’s ragged
breaths.
He surprises himself when he comes suddenly, orgasm hurtling out of nowhere. He
spills over Joe’s hand and wrist, his own shirt in little pulses. “Oh,” he
says, shivering. Joe’s watching his dick jerk and twitch, fascinated.
Sated, Nick lets himself melt further into the couch. He lies still, quiescent,
as Joe cleans him up for the second time that day, humming softly.
“Do you still love me?” Nick asks, somewhat diffident.
“Of course I do,” says Joe, eyes placid, his hand not stopping its movements.
“You know it, Nicky. I love you.”
When Joe’s finished, Nick holds his hand, interlacing their fingers.
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