French Germany
Nick still remembers the first time he noticed the similarities between Alex and AJ. AJ, the cooler, older boy he sort of idolized and Alex, the kid only two years his senior who insulted him in broken Spanish and refused to translate because Denise would kill him if she heard him cursing. Nick liked Alex better; he was more normal-cool than celebrity-cool. Or whatever.
They'd been in Europe somewhere, at that hotel with the weird, leering front desk guy. Waiting in the fuck-all cold for a minivan to shepherd them off to an interview. Maybe it was Belgium. The cold there sucked. And most of their interviews and photo shoots there had been under stressful conditions like frostbite.
Anyway, he remembers that back then, Howie and Kevin were the only two who ever bothered to attempt foreign languages, so one of them always had a phrasebook close by for frantic translations. Lou didn't like them bringing the books to publicity events, though, because it made them look unprofessional and tourist-y. Nick doesn't know if that's true; Kevin didn't approve of him and AJ drinking, so he never let them go.
Howie and AJ had usurped a bench near the hotel entrance, maintaining their sovereignty by sprawling across the length of the thing in positions that made Nick cringe. Howie's bag was between them, AJ's head on the overstuffed end. Occasionally, just to be annoying, Howie'd try to put his feet up, but he stopped when AJ made good on his threat to gnaw on his shoelaces. AJ was perusing the book, searching for rude and/or unusual things to yell at pedestrians. Nick saw Howie roll his eyes as AJ tried out the sounds of `face knob' together in German.
Oh, so Germany, then.
Nick had realized he was standing on the curb staring at his band mates, so he hastily retreated to Fort Brian. It was early enough to blame his spacing out on lack of sleep, but he was glad he didn't need an excuse to flop into Brian's lap for a short nap. Brian ruffled his hair, shifted slightly and resumed his monosyllable, pre- coffee debate with Kevin over some Kentucky cousin thing.
A minivan crunched over gravel to the curb and Nick broke out of his REM cycle in time to watch AJ and Howie invade the back and stretch out across the three-seater. Brian and Nick exchanged a sharp look, dulled only slightly by exhaustion, and prepared for battle. Brian bellowed a warrior cry about five times raspier than he probably expected and hurtled at the car. Nick hobbled after him, yawning and trying to shake the hand he couldn't quite make into a fist with the proper amount of intimidation.
From that one battle cry Brian had revived his energy and was presently wailing on AJ, going for the niches between ribs that made Mr. Me-So-Suave kick and squawk. Howie pressed his back into the window and pulled his knees up so Brian couldn't get at him. Then a decidedly frightening grin banished his former "what-the-hell" look and he yanked AJ's arms behind his back, leaving open the more guarded areas for Brian to get at.
"Fuckin' traitor!" AJ yelled over his shoulder at Howie, who cackled with shocking authenticity.
Nick propped his elbows on the back of the two-seater and cheered Brian on, because AJ was constantly imploring them to rearrange his face and seeing Howie turn traitor against his best friend would gratify anyone who knew those two.
AJ was shaking by the time Brian finished with him, shoved hard into Howie's side while Brian serenely took the vacated third seat. Howie snickered longer than AJ's pride could cope with and earned himself a bony elbow in the gut. To the background noise of a sequel vendetta starting, Nick grabbed the phrasebook that had been hurled to the floor near his feet. He flipped to the end where the curses were—random usefuls like "Stop!" and "Get the fuck away from me!" for the more daring tourist. Kevin dragged the door shut and leaned on the passenger's seat while he reviewed Lou's directions to the interview site with the driver.
Then he sat next to Nick in the middle two-seater and buckled in. He cuffed the back of Nick's head affectionately and turned around to address the idiots in the backseat. "Don't make me come back there," he said and Nick remembers how thick his accent was back then. Remembers when "don't make me come back there" actually intimidated them.
Nick sometimes wondered what it was about putting AJ between people that made him so jumpy. He watched in the driver's mirror as AJ went from mildly bored to all-out inspired. From Confusing-Street-Name to That-Boring-Place-Kevin-Thought-Was-Interesting, AJ pestered Brian until the older boy was moved to awkwardly slap his chin with his left arm. While AJ resentfully nursed his face, Brian muttered about the tight fit in the backseat that had his right arm fenced in between him and AJ. Twenty seconds of blessed silence later, AJ remembered his grudge against Howie and started humming some song Howie obviously hated under his breath and hideously off-key. But unlike Brian, Howie had no problem with unbuckling his seatbelt for better aim and AJ forgot the rest of the song.
Brian fell asleep against the seatback during the first ten minutes of traffic and Howie followed shortly after, forehead brushing the window. AJ looked back and forth, looking awfully tempted, but to his credit he resisted. He was too smart to piss both off simultaneously while he was wedged in between them. Instead, he made a face of defeat and unbuckled his seatbelt quietly so Kevin wouldn't yell at him. With a quick glance to make sure Kevin was still immersed in the city skyline, AJ removed his elbow from Howie's side, putting it on his shoulder instead and dropped off into a catnap that looked anything but comfortable to Nick.
Nick returned to the phrasebook, bored, knowing better than to mess with his seatmate before noon. Kevin loved him like a brother and that gave him "older brother rights" Nick didn't quite understand the concept of yet. Looking back now with a fair deal of experience as an older brother himself, Nick knows most of the grief Kevin gave him was bullshit he made up off the cuff to control a manic thirteen- year-old who never let his Daily Dose of Annoying take a vacation.
Still, by fifteen he had temporarily accepted his position as the group puppy, just as long as he got to dream of the day he'd grow taller than all four of `em and mock the hell out of their old asses.
When he ran out of foreign curses to whisper under his breath with the hope that Kevin would hear so he'd make the Crazy Face, Nick threw the book over his shoulder, expecting to hit one of the guys. When the dull thud yielded no startled "Wuh?!", Nick turned and saw the book resting in the gap between AJ and Brian. AJ was curled into Howie's shoulder, his sunglasses poised precariously on the point of his nose. His way-too-long eyelashes were still, his breath even and Nick was startled by how not-evil AJ looked asleep without sunglasses covering half his face. AJ always seemed so distant from the others in coolness, as cool as Kevin but with the rebellious sheen that Kevin didn't care enough to routinely polish. It was sort of sad that AJ never looked seventeen and unguarded unless he was sulking or unconscious.
The minivan stopped at the building and Kevin thanked the man in French as he opened the door. So, oh. France. Nick looked over his shoulder where Brian was stretching his arms out in front of him. He noticed Nick's gaze and smirked, popping his shoulder loudly the way Nick hated and abandoned the car with a crazy Frick giggle. The noise woke Howie and he yawned hugely, lifting his shoulders in a stretch and dropping them heavily. AJ startled awake and squinted against the morning brightness, pushing his sunglasses up with a sour glare. He took too long searching out his motor skills, though, so Howie charitably helped by shoving him at the door, laughing.
Then the van was empty and Nick blinked, hearing Brian's shouting but feeling too sluggish to respond. With a groan, he lifted himself over the back of the two-seater and retrieved the phrasebook. Howie's name was printed on the side in pen and Nick wondered if he and Brian could wash it off later and rewrite something insulting in permanent marker. While he thought out the details, he looked up into the driver's mirror where a pair of inquiring eyes was waiting for him to leave.
He came back to his mind with a belated, "Oh, right," and clumsily staggered out of the car. AJ was waiting and caught him around the neck, squeezing and cackling until Nick surrendered the book. Then he ran after the guys and Nick heard his bellowed, "D! Look what Nicky stole from you!" and Howie's dry, "Thanks, kettle."
All seventeen-year-olds are jerks in some way. AJ just happened to sing and play up the unruly kid stereotype more than others his age. AJ was kind of a prick, but he was enough like Alex in between rebellions that it didn't really make a difference. Even at seventeen he chose to hang out with Sweet Howie D, proof positive that his image was total bull.
"Hey, D," said AJ, perusing the book idly. "How come you have the German book in Spain?"
Spain. Oh, fuck, whatever.