Date: Tue, 16 May 2000 22:17:32 GMT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Beneath It All

This is my third story for the Nifty Archive and, thus far, my favourite.
Admittedly I have taken liberties with Nick's character -- above and beyond
the whole sexuality thing.  Some of the quirks are based on the theories of
DCKevin, author of NSYNC Lance and JC.  So this story is not meant to say
anything about the members of the Backstreet Boys -- nothing about their
sexualities, their choice of vacation spots, or anything else.

This is my first Backstreet Boys story.  NSYNC won't appear here, and this
is in no way connected to LISA or Mirrors.  Originally I'd wanted to focus
on Brian, but with his engagement it just didn't fit, and now I'm glad,
because I find Nick to be a great source for material.

I have to mention DLS here, author of Brian and Me.  Back in the
brainstorming session that began this story, he was as much a factor as I
was.  His ideas are represented here to varying degrees, even replacing my
own.  The guy is sweet, talented, and a huge part of this story.  If Nifty
has given me nothing else, it's given me DLS as a great (Canadian) friend.

Plus he's the only Nifty author to see me naked.  And remember, I *was*
voted the Sexiest Author.

Scotty T  --  thepoetboy@hotmail.com


Beneath It All

Part 1

"Shut up, Nick.  It'll be better than a hotel."  Howie laughed and turned
up the volume.  AJ was lost in driving -- trying to remember the directions
and harmonize at the same time.

Nick leaned his head out of the back seat window, letting the wind smack
his face, practically deafening him.  One thing he had to admit, the air
smelled better out here than it would in some city or in some hotel.  And
he liked the idea of a fan-free week.

Maybe it'd be nice to take over a little country bed and breakfast.  Maybe
the fresh air would do some good.

Yeah, and maybe he'd die of boredom by Wednesday.

He opened his eyes into little slits, watching the wide, brown fields
bounce by.  The gravel roads made a cool crunching sound once you edited
out the wind.  The sun was beating down, dragging fall back into summer
temperatures.

It won't be so bad, he decided.  Maybe he'd find some toothless, inbred
yokel and learn to play the harmonica.

Suddenly AJ spun the wheel and the car was sliding sideways.  Nick tensed
in shock and pulled his head back into the car as it fishtailed and started
up a long, pot-holed driveway.

Howie was laughing in the front seat and Nick caught AJ's smirk in the
rear-view mirror with a glare.  He then caught sight of the house through
the windshield and whistled.  It was a huge place, soft beige wood siding
and a steep roof.  There was a porch that looked like it went all the way
around, with a white porch swing and a balcony leading out from the third
floor.

"Welcome to the 1920s," AJ muttered when Howie finally turned down the
radio.

The driveway veered away from house, leading to an old barn that look like
it'd been converted into a garage.  As the car slowly crunched forward, a
man pulled the barn doors open and waved.  AJ waved back and drove through
into the darkness.

***

Howie was pulling bags out of the trunk and piling them into Nick's arms.
"And from what I hear the pond is stocked with fish and it's swimmable.
The next farm over has horses and we're free to ride them.  And, best of
all, we're in the middle of nowhere."

Nick noticed with a glare that his load was heavier than AJs had and than
what was left for Howie, but he took it quietly.  He had to.  If he wanted
to even get invited into town to go clubbing, he needed Howie and AJ on his
side.  Unless he convinced Brian or Kevin to come pick him up, which wasn't
likely since they were busy with the fiances and the family.  Frick and
Frack were fucked.  Nick was on his own this time.

Nick nodded and turned to follow where he'd seen AJ go with the owner.
From what he'd seen of Michael, he was pretty nice.  A bit on the serious
and old fashioned side, Nick thought, destroying any hope of a Dreamcast,
or even an N64 or Playstation.  Cute though, if it weren't for the stress
lines and the perma- frown.

He followed a worn path to the back of the house and up onto the porch.
Along the way he casually noticed the large garden that still had some
vegetables going for it.  There was also a huge willow tree with a long
swing hanging from it.

Nick snorted.  "Yeah, with the weight I've been putting on the whole tree
would fall over."

He stepped through the door and into the relative coolness of the kitchen.
AJ was signing some papers at the kitchen table, his luggage dropped by the
door.  Everything was made of wood around here, from the panelled walls to
the dark floorboards.  Nick started putting his stuff down with a sigh.

"Not so fast, Blondie," AJ smirked from the table.  Michael was over by the
sink doing some of the morning dishes.  "You're in the attic, the stairs
are over there - " he pointed up a small hallway - "so don't drop it all
here."

Nick sighed again and moved up the hallway.

"Watch out for the dog, Nick," Michael called out behind him.

"Call me Mr. Carter," Nick whispered, under his breath.  He started up the
stairs, already sweating under the weight and not looking forward to the
climb.  The attic.  Great, no games, and a lot of dust and cobwebs.
Fan-fucking-tastic.

He got to the first turn in the stairs and nearly stepped on the dog.  The
golden retriever looked up at him without even raising its head from where
it was sprawled over two stairs.  The light from the stairway window fell
directly on the old dog's hair and he didn't look like he was willing to
move.

"Go on, pooch.  Move for me."  The dog blinked at him.  "Look, this is
heavy and I'm not in the best mood, Scruffy, so move it or lose it."

The dog yawned widely.

Nick groaned and tried to stare it down.  There was movement around the
next bend in the stairs.

"Denny, come here, girl," came a new voice, hidden above.

The dog raised its head and slowly climbed to its feet.  It limped up the
stairs and around the next bend.  Nick followed.  On the second floor he
saw a man let the dog into one of the bedrooms.  The man nodded and Nick
nodded back before continuing up the next set of stairs, into the attic.

The attic had three narrow doors, two of which were open.  One of the open
doors was the bathroom, and the other was a bedroom.  He took the open door
as an invitation and dropped the luggage on the narrow bed.  He looked
around at his room.  It was much larger than he'd expected.  Huge windows
with thick white curtains dominated two of the walls.  The room had the
narrow bed, an antique dressing table stood next to a matching tall dresser
and at the foot of the bed was a pine blanket box.  There was a wide range
of woods and somehow it worked.

He pulled the curtains open and smiled as he saw the door to the balcony
uncovered.

"I guess I could survive a week," he said quietly.

***

He stopped off on the second floor and left the luggage that wasn't his in
the middle of the hall, and then continued down the back stairway and into
the kitchen.  Howie was in there too, sitting at the table with a cup of
coffee.
  AJ was flipping through a local newspaper.

"It should be page seven," Michael said from the counter where he was now
drying the dishes.

Nick silently slipped into a chair at the table as AJ flipped through the
paper.

"Here it is," AJ said in his fuzzy voice.  Fuzzy was the best word Nick
could think of to describe it.  Brian was clear, Kevin was flat.  Howie was
high.  And Nick?  He described his own voice as nasal, even though everyone
assured him he'd outgrown it.  AJ read the article out loud.  "Littrell and
Richardson are both planning on holding their weddings somewhere in the
area, wanting the ceremonies to take place close to their families.  Dates
are expected to be some time in the summer."  He kept reading, but Nick's
mind wandered.

After everyone turned in, or went into town, he wanted to go for a swim in
the pond.  That way no-one would have to see . . . . well, he'd lose that
weight soon enough anyway.  He stared at the plate of cookies in the middle
of the table.

Michael noticed the staring and laughed, putting a mug into the cupboard.
"Go ahead, Nick.  John made them for you guys anyway."

Nick shook his head.  "John?  Is he the guy I saw upstairs?"

Michael's smile faded.  "Yeah.  That'd be him."

"What's the dog's name?"

"She's Denny."

Howie grinned behind his coffee cup.  "She?"

Michael tossed the dishtowel onto the stove.  "John named her when he was
young."  He turned his back and left the room.

"That guy's got a broomstick up his ass," AJ said with a smile.  "I'm
guessing we won't get a tour of the clubs from him."

"Maybe John's cooler," Howie said, putting his mug down and grabbing a
cookie.

"The dude spent the morning making cookies, Howie, how cool can he be?"

Howie slid the plate towards AJ.  "The dude made *good* cookies."

AJ looked doubtful but finally took one.  His eyebrows shot up.  "Damn."

Howie slid the plate towards Nick.  "Try one, kiddo."

Nick looked down at the plate but already saw AJ smirking at him.  "Better
not, Blondie," AJ said, leaning back and patting his stomach.

Nick turned away and went back to the stairs, climbing up towards his room.

"Stop that shit," he heard Howie whisper fiercely behind him.

***

On the second floor, Denny was standing in the middle of the hall.  She
sniffed at the luggage and looked up when Nick came into sight.  She wagged
her tail.

"Hey, Denny," Nick said, kneeling on the landing and reaching out his hand
towards the dog.

She stared at him blankly.  Finally, she turned back to sniffing at the
suitcases.

"Alright then," Nick said, going back up onto his feet.  "If you wanna
visit, I'll be upstairs.  I'll leave the door open."

He climbed the rest of the way to the attic floor and went into his room.
John was there, laying out a set of towels on the dressing table.  Nick
leaned against the door frame.

And there was nothing.  Nick had expected a nod, a hello, or at least
something.  But nothing was forthcoming.  The man was slowly arranging the
towels, using his fingers to make sure they were properly spaced and not
angled.  Nick heard the dog coming up the stairs, and she squeezed past him
in the narrow doorway.

Denny moved over to John and nuzzled his thigh.  John's hand reached out
and scratched her behind the ear, but he didn't look down.  He was staring
blankly at the wall.

Nick stepped back into the hall for a second, and then re-entered the room,
making sure he made more noise this time.  Denny let out a small bark and
started slowly wagging her tail.

Now John turned around, a smile spreading across his face.  His eyes were
milky.  "Hello?  You must be Nick.  I'm John."  He reached his hand out
into the arm.  Nick had to take a few steps to meet him.

"Nice to meet you."

***

Nick sat cross-legged on the bed as John made his way around the room.  He
was pulling open the rest of the curtains and letting in the fresh air.

"Sorry, Nick, I didn't get the chance to properly air the room this
morning, but the linens are fresh.  And you're lucky, the rooms are bigger
up here and it's only the two of us for the bathroom instead of three
people to the one on the second."

"And there's the balcony," Nick said, reaching out and snapping his
fingers.  Denny looked at him and then limped out into the hallway.

John laughed.  "She doesn't pay much attention to anyone but me.  Even
Michael can't get her to do anything she doesn't want to do.  Half the time
I think she does the opposite of what he wants to tick him off."

"How old is she?"

"About twelve now.  Older than I ever expected her to be.  I think she just
doesn't wanna leave me unsupervised."

"Oh, she's trained?"

"Seeing eye dog?"  John pulled the balcony door open and used his hands to
guide himself down to where he sat on the doorstep.  "No, but in all these
years she's picked up a lot of tricks."  John ran his fingers through his
hair.  "I'm right across the hall so if you need anything, come visit.  And
don't leave things sitting out in the middle of the floors.  I've got the
floor plans pretty well memorized as is."

Nick felt his cheeks go red.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't know."

"Yeah, I know.  Michael doesn't quite advertise me."  John grinned broadly.
It was a pure smile, not like one of AJ's that was just a layer over a wide
range of biting comments.  It drew a smile back to Nick's face.

"Michael's your brother?"

"My older brother, yeah.  And you guys are some sort of singing group?"
John's grin widened.

Nick was incredulous.  "You've never heard of us?"

John laughed, pulling himself back to his feet.  "Hey, I'm blind, not
stupid."  Nick laughed and watched nervously as John moved over to the
door, but he seemed to have no problem getting around.  "I'll leave you to
settle in, Nick.  Dinner's at six."

John pulled the door closed behind him.

***

Nick had his eyes closed.  From the bed it was five long paces to the door.
The closet was four paces along that same wall.  He tried sticking to the
walls at first, not wanting to journey out through the middle of the room.
The wide empty areas were frightening and he ended up using his toes and
waving arms to find out when he was about to meet resistance.

But John hadn't done that.  He'd kept his hands comfortably at his sides
and walked at a normal pace.  Nick pressed his back against the window and
tried to picture the room.  It should be three and a half paces back to the
bed.

Instead he found it was two paces to a suitcase and he just barely caught
himself on the bed before he fell.

He shook his head and climbed to his feet.  After the luggage was all put
under the bed he tried again.  The picture of the room formed.  From the
bed, the closet should be in this direction.

He set out, went the required number of steps, and reached his hand out.
It closed on the closet's handle and his grin spread.

***

At ten to six, Nick skipped down the stairs.  He could smell dinner already
and he was hungry.  Breakfast had been a long time ago and it had only been
a few pieces of toast.

He stepped over Denny, who was sprawled on the stairs again.  Her tail
thumped against the wall as he passed.

Michael and John were in the kitchen.  John was setting the table for four
and Michael was stirring pots on the stove.

"Hey," Michael said, setting out the forks.

"Only four spots?  Who's skipping out?" Nick asked, hopping up onto the
counter.

"I am," Michael said.  "I'm needed at the next farm over to do some fence
repairs."

"I don't see why they can't wait until morning," John said, tasting the
tomato sauce.

"They don't want to risk it.  I'll be back by ten."  Michael put down the
last fork and turned to John.  "You'll be alright, won't you?"

"I'll be fine."  John's voice darkened, and the words sounded well oiled,
as if they'd been said many times before.

Michael grabbed his coat off the back of one of the chairs and turned to
Nick.  "Help him out," he mouthed.  Nick nodded and Michael smiled before
he slipped out of the back door.  The screen door slammed loudly.

"You up for some home-made spaghetti, Nick?  Everything's home-made, from
the sauce to the noodles."

"I'm up for a bit.  I'm not all that hungry though."

John turned towards Nick, holding the red stained spoon in the air.  "You
can say that with a smell like this to contend with?"

Nick laughed.  "Hey, I'll try it but I'm not promising anything."

He got a smile in response before John turned back to his cooking.

Howie and AJ came down the front stairs like an earthquake.  They came into
the kitchen, dressed head to toe in flashy club clothes.  Howie had dark
pants and a tight undershirt with a loose silk shirt overtop.  AJ was a
random mix of patterns and colours.

John turned off the heat to the elements and turned to meet them.  "Ready
to eat, guys?"

AJ grabbed a slice of bread from the table.  "Thanks but no thanks, Johnny.
We're heading into the city for some fun.  Nick'll cover for us."

Howie glared at AJ and pulled him towards the back door.

"Don't wait up," AJ mumbled from around the bread he was trying to chew on.
And then they were gone.

John was still standing by the stove, holding the spoon in the air.  It
dripped tomato onto the floor.  "Are they always like that?"

Nick nodded, and then thought twice and said, "Yeah.  Sorry about them."

"No problem, Nicky.  But you'd better get very hungry very quick."

"No promises," Nick laughed.

***

After dinner, Nick cleared the table.  At first John had tried to send him
off to the porch while he did it himself, but when Nick didn't give in, he
relented.  So Nick cleared the table and John washed the dishes.

This gave Nick the chance to quietly scrape the contents of his plate into
the garbage.

"And when my mother died, she left the farm to the kids.  My sister gave up
her claim to it and moved to Boston.  Michael and I stayed."

"What made you decided to open a bed and breakfast?"

John grinned and slipped a plate into the draining tray.  "The main answer?
I got bored."

Nick laughed.  "What?"

"Michael keeps the farm going but wide open fields aren't my forte so I
decided to do this.  He took some convincing though."

Nick put the last of the leftovers into the fridge, noticing how well
organized it was.  Everything had it's place.  "Wow.  This is like
pristine."

"Helps me get around.  Where'd you put the spaghetti?"

"Top shelf, front left.  Okay?"

"No problemo."  He dropped the last plate into the drainer.

"I'll dry," Nick offered.

"Let them air dry.  Denny needs some outside time anyway."  John let his
hand slide along the counter.  He whistled and Nick immediately heard the
heavy paws of the dog coming down the stairs.  John's hand finally reached
the end of the counter and he aimed himself towards the hallway to the
front hall with Denny following close behind.

***

John was on the porch swing, slowly gliding back and forth.  Nick sat on
the stairs, putting his back to one of the posts and watching Denny limp
her way around the front yard.  Eventually she was confident that her
territory was safe and climbed back up onto the porch and gingerly into the
porch swing, resting her head on John's lap.

Nick was watching John's face, amazed with the idea that he could stare
forever and never get caught.  John had none of the stress marks of his
brother, none of the harsh edge to his features.  He was calm and smooth,
almost Zen-like in appearance.

If Denny hadn't been staring back, Nick was convinced he could have spent
the whole evening memorizing John's features.  The dog's watchful gaze was
almost disconcerting, but incredibly sweet.  Nick convinced himself that
the dog had adopted John, become his inter-species mother.

John scratched her ears absently.

"Do you fish?" he asked.

Nick cleared his throat, finding his voice and reminding himself that he'd
done nothing wrong, at least, nothing John had seen.  "Not really."

"I think it's barbaric, but Michael likes it."  John smiled.  "I caught one
fish, once.  I thank God the little guy got himself off the hook."

Nick wanted to point out that it had probably died anyway, bled to death
from the hook and the damage it caused.  He wanted to point out that Denny
was past her years and walked with obvious pain and maybe it would just be
better to put her down.

He wanted to bring up a thousand dark and depressing images, to scare John
away.  To secure a week alone without John finding a real reason to keep
his distance.

He was aware that he was constructing John in his mind as an innocent, a
pure spirit like so many fictional blind people.  Disabilities were either
mocked or romanticized, and John didn't deserve either.

"You're a quiet person, Nick."

I'm a fat-ass, Nick wanted to say, crippled from too many years of touring,
starting too soon.  A worthless person built around a voice that changed
too much to be dependable as a career.

"I just don't have much to say."

"You know why I decided to open the bed and breakfast, Nick?"

"You were bored.  You said that already."

John was silent for a moment, smiling at whatever was happening in his
mind, behind those blind eyes.  Denny finally drifted off to sleep.  "It
was for the stories.  Travellers come with stories, views of things I've
never seen and places I've never been.  So, Mister Carter, you have a
lifetime of things to talk about with me.  What's Europe like?  What's it
like to be on stage in front of thousands of people?"  He paused again.
"Have you ever seen a sunset?"

Nick's eyebrows came together.  "Of course I've seen a sunset, who hasn't?"
He trailed off into silence, but stopped short of apologizing.  John was
already chuckling deeply.

"Describe it."

And then Nick was caught in a problem.  He approached it in many different
directions, trying to explain colour and half-light to someone who probably
hasn't seen either.  He tried several methods, but each one involved
"violet" or "peach".  Each one required a knowledge of what clouds looked
like and how light reflected off them.

Finally he settled on something.  "A sunset is like the end of a song, when
all that's left is piano and then it fades away.  Or like the last bite of
your favourite meal, where the taste lingers on your tongue and you don't
take a drink because it would just ruin the sensation.  Or a long hug from
a friend who's going away."

John nodded and they both considered it.  Finally John smiled and said,
"Don't ever tell me you don't have anything to say again."

Nick grinned.  "Deal."

***

For the next hour, Nick described touring and what it was like to be on
stage, carefully replacing visual descriptions with what he hoped were
equivalents from other senses.  After a while Denny started snoring softly,
but John kept his head up, as if he were staring out over the neighbour's
fields, experiencing everything he was being told.

"And you get paid for all this?"

"Selling off our privacy, yeah."

"It can't be that bad."

Nick shrugged, wrapping his arms around himself against the cooling night.
He was watching the sunset over the fields, but not drawing John's
attention to it.  "It's not that bad at first, but after years of it,
trying to be a teenager under scrutiny, it builds up."

John nodded, slowly.  "I know that feeling."

"What do you mean?"

"A blind teenager practically gets baby-sat.  My parents never realized I
could be independent, and Michael still fights back."

"Most of my decisions are made by the management, or by Kevin."  Nick let
out a long, slow breath.  "I'm still the fourteen year old in the group,
years later.  But you, you know your way around.  You can cook and
everything.  How can they not realize?"

"Me?  Well, you handle crowds like a veteran, you know your way around a
recording studio, why are you still the fourteen year old?"

Nick let out another sigh.  "Everyone's just used to it."

"Exactly."

The sun disappeared, leaving pinks and peaches behind.  Some gold around
the clouds.  For once, Nick felt completely at ease.

***

End part 1.