Joe/Nick - little future fic
Guys, Samson by Regina Spektor just came on.

Nick once sang this to Joe. Him on his big-boy piano and making small smiles while Joe watched from the couch, sleepy but sated and happy. They're in their apartment and there's dog toys scattered everywhere and the PS3 and the Wii are hopelessly tangled on the floor with CDs littered around it.

Nick's playing in just his boxers. There's a bright red mark on his shoulder, that soft patch of skin that Joe earlier worried with his tongue and teeth and lips, listening to the sweet noises that Nick made.

When the song ends, Joe reaches out with his hand and says c'mere, Nick, c'mere and Nick goes, lies on top of Joe, breathing the sleep-scent of his brother. Touches his hair and arms and kisses him, says love you to the corner of his lips.

Joe exhales, shaking and runs his hands through Nick's hair and Nick rests his head on Joe's chest, closing his eyes as Joe touches him.

I met her once, you know, Nick whispers to the skin of Joe's chest.

Who?

Regina Spektor.

Yeah?

Yeah, Nick says and thumbs the inside of Joe's elbow, fingertip to skin, not wanting anything between them. She's awesome, like seriously, seriously awesome. And she's way, way better at the piano than me.

Nuh uh, I don't think so. Nobody's better at the piano than you, okay? Joe says and pokes Nick on his side.

She is. She really, really is. I couldn't follow her fingers, man.

No, she's totally not better. Besides, she's like, old. And you're... uh, not old. So you can seriously catch up and be better than her.

If you say so, Joe, Nick says, smiling. He is built up by his passion and Joe's unshakeable faith.

Let's ask her to sing with us, Joe says.

Nick lifts himself up and looks Joe straight in the eye. You serious?

Joe nods vigorously, Seriously. It'll be awesome. Your voice and her voice. Total harmony.

Nick narrows his eyes, suspicious. You're not gonna make me go on a musical showdown with her, right?

Joe once tried to make Nick have a musical showdown with John Mayer and Nick almost died with embarrassment. He had to drag Joe away and then apologized like hell to John the next morning. He still flinches everytime he remembers Joe screaming my brother's vocal cords can kick your vocal cords with two hands tied behind its back!

Uh... no?

Joe.

Alright, alright. But your piano can totally kick her piano's ass.

I don't think pianos have asses.

They totally do. It's that bendy thing at the back.

Wow, very specific.

Joe pushes upwards and kisses him and Nick closes his eyes, automatic because this is a well-synchronized step with them even before they knew that it was a dance. There are no mistakes between him and Joe. The kiss is sweet, full of smiles and Joe's endless capacity for joy, filling the sometime dark portions of yourself.

He pushes you up, smiling his starburst smile. C'mon, wanna hear you play some more.

Only if you sing, you say because you've written all of your songs, hearing his voice all the time.

He sits with you at your tiny piano bench, fitting somehow because it's Joe and he will always slot perfectly in your life. You play and he sings.

And somewhere along the way, somewhere between the C-sharp piano key and the rise and fall of his voice, you smile at him.

He doesn't stop singing when he smiles back.