don't be alarmed if i fall (1/2)

Title: don't be alarmed if i fall
Pairing: Nick Jonas/Demi Lovato
Rating: R - sex and mentions of sex, pot-smoking, and mentions of self-injury
Word Count: 18,500
Summary: Set five year in the future, Nick goes on tour with Demi, expecting two awesome months of playing small venues with his best friend. And okay, he's been in love with her since he was fifteen, but she doesn't need to know that. She also doesn't need to know how badly he wants to kiss her. Because, as always, Nick's got everything under control. Really. He swears.
Notes: This fic would not exist with forcedmovement, who encouraged me throughout the entire writing process and dealt with my insanity during editing. She's also the one who told me that a 5,000 word sex scene is okay, so that is totally her fault. Thank you for everything bb, especially for loving this crazy pairing with me ♥


The tour actually sells out, which Nick wasn’t expecting; sometimes he forgets how many Jonas Brothers fans have continued to follow him for the past four years. His solo album sales haven’t been great, but they’ve always been respectable, and Rolling Stone gave his last one four stars, which is really more than he ever could’ve imagined. The fans mean the world, but sometimes Nick really likes being recognized for the music he’s making, even more than selling out concert halls.

Except well, he’s doing both, really. So life is pretty freakin’ awesome.

Demi is just as excited, of course, since it’s their club tour that just officially sold out the night before they leave for rehearsals. She calls him while he’s packing, standing in his closet and trying to figure out exactly how much laundry he’s going to want to do over the next two months. He’s smiling when he answers, balancing his iPhone between his ear and shoulder as he rifles through his closet. Where did he put his black vest?

“Oh my gosh, can you believe the entire tour sold out? I was expecting maybe ten people at each venue, okay.” Nick can hear Demi’s smile, her voice warm across the distance between her parents’ house in Dallas and his apartment in LA; they’re meeting in San Francisco in approximately sixteen hours, but this excitement is too much for either of them to hold it in that long.

“Your last album was so good, how could everyone in the world not want to see you live?” Nick asks, and he knows it sounds like a hyperbole, but it’s the truth. He doesn’t understand how everyone can’t see that Demi is the most talented person in their generation, with one of the best voices he’s heard ever. And he listens to a lot of music.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Four Stars From Rolling Stone Magazine, I think it sold out because of you. ” Demi laughs, and Nick can picture her in her bedroom, surrounded by piles of clothes she might be packing, making that face she makes when she teases him. He can’t even count how many times he’s seen that face in the past year, let alone in the eight years they’ve known each other.

Nick laughs too, because he can’t stop himself, Demi’s laugh is that infectious. He says something about them taking over the world, and she makes a joke about needing an awesome lair, and the next thing he knows, he’s lying on his bed and they’ve been talking about nothing for over an hour. He’s still not even packed, hasn’t even decided what guitars he’s bringing, but it’s Demi, and once they start talking, it’s hard to stop.

They finally get off the phone because Demi’s hungry and Nick is getting on a plane in eight hours. If it wasn’t for that, Nick is pretty sure they would’ve talked until Demi was falling asleep on the phone; they’ve done it before.

But it’s for the best. Besides packing, Nick has to set everything up for Joe to take care of Elvis while he’s gone, set up call forwarding on his house phone, and deal with the giant stack of mail he’s let pile up on his counter. He’s been living on his own for almost three years, but sometimes he still forgets the little things. Or the big leaning towers of mail right near where he eats breakfast every morning, whichever.

He finds the invitation between a week-old newspaper and a credit card offer. It’s crisp and white and he doesn’t even need to read it to know what it says; as much as he tries to avoid all the gossip magazines, he can’t do it completely, forever. Well, it’s nice that Miley invited him to her wedding, but it’s even nicer that he’s going to be playing a show in Atlanta that night, so he doesn’t have to make up an excuse to not go.

He thinks it’s good that they’re okay enough now that she wanted to invite him to her wedding. He never thought it was going to be possible after their last failed attempt at getting back together, but that was more than four years ago. She’s clearly moved on, and he has too, and there is no reason they can’t be civil or even friendly to each other. They’re twenty-two, not fifteen; friendship is possible.

Besides, he has a tour with his best friend to focus on. He doesn’t have time to be depressed over Miley anymore.

--

Nick is already at the club when Demi arrives, pushing her aviators up onto the top of her head and grinning at him from across the empty room. He’s sitting on the edge of the stage, strumming lazily on an acoustic guitar, and his fingers stutter on the strings when she walks in the room, all distracting with the sunlight streaming in behind her and jeans way tighter than jeans should be allowed to be. Yeah, he has eyes, and Demi’s pretty, he’s allowed to let himself notice that sometimes.

“Hey, Nick,” Demi calls, waving. Nick waves back, sliding backward on the stage and standing up as Demi navigates her way through the aisles. It’s a pretty decent-sized club; the crowd this weekend is going to be intense. Nick can feel his blood buzzing in his veins; he misses the roar.

“How was your flight?” Nick asks as Demi climbs up on the stage. Or, tries to; she ends up needing him to help her, underestimating its height. She laughs when she finally makes it, and all Nick can feel is the way her hand fits in his, like it belongs there. Which is crazy talk, and probably means his blood sugar is low or he’s sleep-deprived or something, because it’s Demi, not someone he should be holding hands with.

“Boring. It gave me time to finalize my setlist, though,” she says with a shrug. When Nick raises his eyebrows at her, she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, you have two less albums than I do and a much longer set. Creating my setlist is an art form, okay?”

Nick laughs; he forgot how much he missed joking around with Demi in person. It’s so much better than over the phone or online, even with videochat. “I’m glad you’re here now,” he says. And he didn’t exactly mean to say that, but it’s true. He missed her. He opens his arms for a hug, and she gives him one, the way she always does, arms wrapped tight around him, body warm and close and making him never want to let go.

They wander backstage into the dressing room, and Demi drops down onto one of the plush leather sofas, propping her feet up on the coffee table – and she’s wearing new boots, and Nick can’t believe he notices that. When did he start paying attention to Demi’s shoes? “Okay, so. Tour starts in four days. What are we doing for the acoustic set?”

“Oh, so I have to decide?” Nick asks, grabbing a bottle of water out of the little refrigerator in the corner. Demi shrugs, moving her legs so Nick can get around and sit next to her. The couch is weird or something though, because he ends up sitting a lot closer to her than he meant to. It must be tilted. “I was thinking Stop the World, Catch Me, and then that cover we were talking about, It Ain’t Me Babe? If you’re still into that.”

“Yeah, totally. But um, why aren’t we doing any of your songs? Do you not want me to mess them up?” She bumps him with her shoulder, teasing, and Nick smiles.

“Of course not, I just didn’t know if you’d want to. We can figure something out.”

“Well, we can do Before the Storm…” Nick turns his head to stare at her so fast he practically gets whiplash, and she laughs, kicking him in the shin. Which hurts, her boots are clunky. “I’m kidding, jeez. You don’t need to have a heart attack, you loser.”

“I didn’t have a heart attack, shut up,” Nick snaps, and immediately feels bad about it. It’s not Demi’s fault that Before the Storm can still make him feel weird, can still make him feel like he’s sixteen and promising to love Miley forever only to have her turn around and leave him for some Australian whose name he doesn’t even remember. It makes him feel like he’s supposed to still love her, and he doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he doesn’t. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Demi shrugs. “Whatever, some things just stick with you. I mean, if you had suggested we sing like, Wouldn’t Change A Thing, I probably would’ve punched you in the face.” Nick laughs, and Demi smiles at him, reaching across him to steal his water from his hand. Her fingers touch his for a second, the warmth of her hand a contrast to the coolness of the bottle, and he shivers. And then feels like a giant freak.

“But really,” Nick says, when he’s recovered from his freakiness, “there are a lot of Jonas Brothers songs that work really well acoustically, it’s just a matter of rearranging them for your voice.”

“I like that one you did on your first album, making it all slow and sexy,” Demi says, and winks at him. Winks. What the hell? What does that mean? Why is it hot?

“Sexy? Uh.” Nick racks his brain, trying to remember what songs were even on his first album, let alone which songs he made sexy. None. He made no songs sexy. He doesn’t even know what that means, oh gosh. “Tonight?” he says finally, realizing that was the only Jonas Brothers song he covered.

“Yes!” Demi sits up straight, turning towards him with a smile. “I love that one. Grab your guitar and teach it to me.” She slides a little closer on the couch, so their thighs are almost pressed together, looking at him expectantly. Right. He has a song to teach her, a show to rehearse, things to do besides stare at her and think about how pretty and awesome she is like a big, giant loser. Demi has always made him feel like this, awkward and dorky and too happy, and it’s been eight years and he still hasn’t figured out why.

Or maybe part of him has. He can’t let himself think the words, though. Not yet. Not ever.

--

“What are you doing?”

Nick looks up at Demi standing in the doorway of his hotel room, and then back down at the meter in his hand. “Um, checking my levels,” he says slowly. She’s seen him do it a thousand times, so clearly that is not the point of her visit. And seriously, he thought he had locked the door between their rooms.

“And then what are you doing?” Demi walks over to the bed and sits next to him. Really close. He would barely have to shift and their knees would be touching, and that’s more exciting than he thinks it should be.

“Eating dinner.” He glances down at his meter; his levels are fine, which doesn’t really explain why he’s having trouble thinking and feels a little dizzy every time he remembers how close Demi is sitting, but whatever.

“And then what are you doing?” Demi asks, raising her eyebrows at him, like there’s some kind of correct answer that he should know.

“Hanging out with you?” Demi grins, and holds her hand up for a high five, so apparently that’s right. It’s crazy that she had to ask, though. What else could he possibly want to do?

Demi flops backwards, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him down onto the bed with her, their shoulders pressed together. Her skin is so warm, even though the fabric of his tee shirt. It’s probably soft, too. “Can you believe opening night is tomorrow?” Demi asks. Her hand is on his thigh, Nick realizes with a start. Why is her hand on his thigh? Why of all the places for it to land did it have to land there? Shit.

He swallows. “It’s awesome. You’re going to be awesome.”

Demi shifts, so her hand is no longer on his thigh, and then she turns, propping herself up on one arm to smile down at him. “We’re both going to be awesome. It will be epic.”

Nick just smiles up at her, kind of forgetting how to form words. She’s really close and really pretty, is all. Sometimes it’s nice to just look at her, like art or something. Except that he doesn’t usually want to kiss art, and he really wants to kiss her. And oh gosh, he cannot think things like that, she’s his friend and everything is platonic and she would never want to kiss him anyways, so it’s not even worth thinking about.

He slides away, moving off the bed to stand in front of her, and she just wrinkles her forehead at him, confused. He’s probably being weird. Why is he always weird around her? “We should go get dinner. My levels were off, so I need food.” She can probably tell he’s lying, but she doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and picks her purse up off the floor, where she must have dropped it when she climbed on the bed.

“That’s fine, but we are so going somewhere other than that same steakhouse. You seem to keep forgetting that I’m a vegetarian, Nicholas.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “You are the worst vegetarian in the world. I seem to remember it being your idea that we stop at In-n-Out before you went back to Texas.”

Demi scoffs, shoving at his shoulder as they head out the door. “I was doing it for you. That’s how selfless I am.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nick says with a laugh, and Demi goes to shove him again, but he moves his hand to stop her and, well. He kind of grabs her hand and neither of them let go for a second and it’s awkward and amazing and Nick literally can’t breathe. Like, it’s the best five seconds of his life.

He is so screwed.

--

The first show is amazing, perfect, just the way Nick knew it would be.

The crowd is awesome, cheering so loudly Nick feels like it’s 2008 again for a minute, watching Demi from sidestage. And she looks so alive, so happy, singing new songs and changing up old ones and closing with Get Back, homage to her Disney roots and where she started. Nick can still remember the day they wrote that song, the memories so fresh and clear despite how long it’s been.

When he comes onstage the roar is deafening, and for a second he just stands there, hands on his guitar, taking it all in. He plays for two hours – songs from all three of his albums, some Jonas Brothers songs, and the small acoustic set in the middle with Demi – and he’s pretty much positive it’s the best two hours of his life. Or at least close; he’s had some pretty awesome moments in the past ten years.

The highlight is definitely when Demi runs back out at the end, barefoot, to sing Who I Am with him, a totally unplanned moment. But she just leans in close to sing into his mike with him, singing a perfect harmony that he had never even written, and it sounds better than he could have imagined. He almost forgets that Demi’s voice hasn’t always been there, filling up the empty spaces.

They’re both high, practically bouncing afterward, heading back to their buses. They have three: one for Nick, one for Demi, and one for the backing band; they’re both sharing a band now that Nick isn’t doing The Administration thing anymore. Demi follows Nick onto his bus, and he assumes she’s just going to stay there for a minute before heading back to hers, but when he asks, she makes a face, like he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“No way, I am not going back to my own bus right now. We have to talk about how good that felt all night.” Demi flops down on the couch in the front lounge, her skirt riding up a little, showing off more of her legs. Not that Nick notices or anything. “I know it’s only been two years since I’ve toured, but I missed it so bad.”

Nick swallows a sudden lump in his throat, watching her from the other couch. Her cheeks are still flushed from the adrenaline rush, her hair’s a little messy, and she’s smiling so bright that it’s almost blinding. He kind of can’t look away. “Yeah,” he manages after a minute. “I was just on tour last spring, but it never gets old.”

“We should do this forever,” Demi says, turning her head to smile at him. “Never go back to our real lives, never tour with anyone else. Just like, you and me, on the road, playing little venues and living on tour buses and being awesome. Forever.”

Nick is pretty sure he’s never wanted anything more in his entire life – at least not anything he can acknowledge – and he smiles back, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “And we can write songs all the time and just record them in Garageband and put them online, without having to deal with all the industry stuff.”

Demi sits up then, suddenly, leaning forward, too. Much closer than she was a second ago, and Nick has to blink a few times in order to refocus. “Let’s write a song now. I want to capture how amazing this feels, okay?”

And Nick gets his guitar and Demi settles down next to him, notepad on her lap. He loses track of time, so focused on the song, on the words, on Demi’s voice and laugh and the way her arm is pressed against his. He knows it’s somewhere around two in the morning when her eyes close and she tells him she just wants to rest her eyes, he needs to keep playing. And he knows it’s ten minutes later when her head drops onto his shoulder, a heavy, comforting weight.

He doesn’t move for a long time, letting her sleep, curled up tight against him.

--

Five days into the tour, Nick wakes up to a pillow hitting him in the face and Demi’s voice, loud and coming from somewhere close to his head. “Jick Nonas, time to get up and spend the day with me.” He doesn’t move, and the pillow hits him in the face again. “Seriously, dude, wake up.”

“Why?” he asks, his eyes still not open. He thinks he was having a really good dream, and now it’s gone. Not that reality is bad, considering he’s pretty sure Demi is sitting right next to his head, almost touching him, but still. Sleep is awesome.

“Because we have a day off and Santa Fe is pretty and I want a tattoo.” Nick opens his eyes at the last word, surprised, and yeah, Demi is sitting right next to his head, grinning down at him. Why is she so close? It’s weird. But like. Good weird. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten one in a few years and today feels like a tattoo kind of day.”

“Why?” Nick asks again, because apparently that’s all he can say. He’s so not a morning person.

Demi bites her lip, thinking for a second. “You kind of already know the answer to that actually, but you don’t know you know.” Nick just stares at her, confused, until she continues. “I just remembered it’s been exactly three years since the last time I like, hurt myself, so I think we need to celebrate.”

Oh. Nick sits up, suddenly way more awake, because this is actually a serious thing, and maybe they should talk about it. He remembers that day, Demi calling him freaking out, having just been dumped by some random loser she thought she loved, sobbing and asking him to come over because she thought she cut too deep. She hadn’t, obviously, and he helped her clean the blood off the sink, made popcorn and watched Will Ferrell movies until she fell asleep, curled up the hoodie he had let her borrow a few weeks before, her face buried in his neck. He had stayed up all night, just watching her sleep, making sure she was okay. It was one of the worst nights of his life.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and Demi makes a face, shrugging and sliding off the bed. It takes a lot to make her talk about that kind of stuff; he should’ve figured she wouldn’t want to.

“No, whatever, we don’t need to. I’m fine now, obviously.” She smiles at him, and yeah, she is. She’s been single for months, telling him she’s waiting for someone who treats her better, hanging out with him instead of partying, and she seems a lot happier. It’s nice to see, finally. “Also, we should get some Mexican food or something. Isn’t that awesome here?”

Nick blinks. “I have no idea. There’s probably like, a Taco Bell.”

Demi just stares at him, hands on her hips. “Taco Bell is not Mexican food, Nicholas. Jeez, with how much you eat, you’d think you’d be much more of a connoisseur by now.” Nick opens his mouth to argue – he doesn’t eat that much – but Demi just holds up her hand. “Yes, you do. And fine, you’re a total steak connoisseur.”

They argue about Nick’s eating habits the entire way out of the hotel and down the street, laughing, focusing more on the conversation than on where they’re going. It’s hot, and Demi has shorts and a loose tee shirt on, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. Nick thinks that if they ran into fans right now, it might take them a minute to recognize Demi, her actual style so different than how she looks on red carpets or stage. Demi calls it lazy, and every time she says that, making a face at herself in a mirror because she didn’t put on makeup before they run to go get smoothies in the middle of an intense writing session, Nick wants to tell her she looks beautiful. The words always seem to get stuck in his throat.

--

The show at the House of Blues in Dallas is, without a doubt, the best show of the tour so far. Nick isn’t sure if it’s because both of their families are there – Kevin even brings his daughter, three years old and already in love with music – or because the energy in Texas is always great, or just because they’re a few shows in and they’ve finally stopped worrying about something going wrong. They just get to enjoy being onstage, he can watch her when they perform Stop the World without constantly wondering if the sound is working properly. It’s so much better that way; he loves watching her sing.

It’s so perfect that Nick is the one who needs to keep the night going, needs to keep talking about it, following Demi onto her bus at the end of the night, after they say goodbye to their families. They’re moving onto the next city already, no real time to hang out at home, but it’s okay. Demi once told him that having him around was like bringing a little piece of Texas with her, and he feels the same way. And okay, she went on to make fun of his accent, but the idea was sweet.

They end up talking on her bed in the back, going over every perfect moment of the night, Demi gesturing wildly even while she’s trying to brush her hair. They talk about Texas, and music, and how crazy it is that Madison and Frankie are teenagers now, and how they hope neither of them make too many mistakes. Demi lies down at some point, kicking her sandals off and staring up at the ceiling, her hair around her like a halo.

“After Joe and I broke up, I thought about just quitting everything, coming back here and trying to be normal again. He was so much the center of my universe for years that I just didn’t want to have to deal with how screwed up everything was going to be.” She sighs, and Nick doesn’t know what to say. He remembers that, remembers how fragile she seemed sometimes, how mad he had been at Joe for doing that to her, how badly he just wanted her to be okay again.

She turns her head, looks at him. “You know, I wouldn’t have gotten through that if it wasn’t for you. You taught me how to smile again.” And she smiles, then, her big cheesy smile and Nick can’t help but return it, the way he always does. It’s just so contagious.

Demi yawns, stretching her arms above her head – and Nick absolutely does not look at the tiny strip of her stomach that flashes when her shirt rides up. “You should go to sleep,” he says, and his voice sounds a little weird. Strangled. “I’ll sleep in one of the bunks.”

“Hey, no.” Demi half sits up, grabbing his wrist. “It’s a big bed; there is totally plenty of room.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Unless you’re a blanket stealer.”

Nick swallows, and looks at her, and her eyes are all big and her bottom lip is stuck out in a pout, and well. He can’t really resist that, even if part of him is screaming that this is not a good idea. So he just nods, kicks off his shoes, and slides under the covers when she lifts them up for him. It’s weird, but also not weird, and Demi keeps smiling at him and he thinks his heart is racing and he doesn’t know why.

Demi turns off the light, so the room is only lit up by the streetlights they pass on the highway, casting this flickering yellow glow every few seconds. Nick tries to close his eyes, tries to stare the ceiling, the wall, anything, but he somehow just keeps looking over and Demi. And every single time, she’s looking back at him.

He has no idea what’s going on. It needs to stop. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Nick can hear the tires on the pavement, a gentle rumbling under the bus. He thinks if he wrote a song about this moment it would sound like that: slow and soft, familiar and warm in your chest like a kickdrum. Maybe there’d be piano, for the stillness, for the sound of Demi’s breathing and the twisting in his stomach.

“Nick,” Demi breathes, and somehow, she’s closer, close enough to touch. He shouldn’t look at her, but he does, and she’s looking up at him through her lashes, eyes sparkling even in the low light. She’s so beautiful; Nick’s always known that, but right now, she’s literally taking his breath away. “I’m glad you’re here with me. On this tour.” She pauses, licks her lips, and Nick watches her tongue, heart stuttering. “Tonight.”

Nick exhales, long and slow, trying to remember how to speak. “Me too. Uh, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Demi smiles then, so bright, and gosh, Nick wants to kiss her. He’s always wanted to kiss her.

So he does.

He dips his head, catching her bottom lip between his, and for a second time stops, and then she melts into it. She kisses back. Her lips are soft, softer even then they look, and he wants to memorize the way they feel. He can’t let himself ever forget this moment, eight years in the making and better than he ever could have imagined, if he had let himself think about it.

She sighs into his mouth, opening up for him, and he can feel the slide of her tongue against his, taste the sweetness of her mouth and something so unmistakably Demi. And her hand is in his hair, tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands, he wants to touch her everywhere, but he doesn’t want to scare her. His hand lands on her hip, finally, and she makes this low, happy sound in her throat, like settling in.

He loses himself in the feeling, so focused on Demi, her skin soft under his hands, how warm her body is pressed against him, the way she whispers his name whenever he pulls back to take a breath, like she’s asking him not to stop. As if he had any plans of stopping. This is everything; he didn’t know how badly he wanted it – needed it – until it was happening, but now? He never wants it to end.

But it has to, of course, because they have to sleep, they have a show tomorrow. Demi pulls back, presses her forehead against his, and Nick just watches her as she takes deep breaths. “Wow,” she says, after a minute. “That was strangely unexpected.”

And she laughs, and Nick laughs, and any possibility that this moment would be awkward is completely gone. It’s Demi. Of course it wouldn’t be awkward. She’s his best friend; even if this doesn’t go where he thinks he wants it to go, she’ll still be his best friend.

“We should sleep,” Nick breathes. He can barely hear his own voice; if Demi wasn’t so close she probably wouldn’t know what he said. But she is, she’s still so incredibly close, all of her in his personal space. But he never minded that with Demi, not in all the years he’s known her. He always kind of liked when she was in his personal space.

Demi makes a noise of agreement, and slides away a few inches. Nick feels cold, suddenly, wanting her back, not wanting this moment to fade. “Probably. That way, we can get to whatever kissing we’re going to do tomorrow.” She looks up at him, her expression halfway between a smirk and smile, and Nick knows his face must look ridiculous – of all the things she could have said, he didn’t expect that. He didn’t expect a promise of more.

“Or we could do a little more tonight,” he says, when he’s gotten over the shock. “Practice for tomorrow.”

Demi laughs, but she moves closer again, sliding her hand around to the back of his neck, soft and warm against his skin. He feels weirdly dizzy, even though he’s lying down. “Nicholas, you have the best plans.” And as she presses her lips against his again - something that is starting to become familiar, he can’t even believe that - he would have to agree.

This tour, this night, this kiss. Best plans.

--

When Nick wakes up, it’s barely light out, maybe an hour after sunrise. He doesn’t move for a minute, just breathing, remembering the night before. And Demi is still next to him, her head on his chest, her hair tickling his nose when he looks down.

He’s never felt this purely content in his entire life. He never wants to move, never wants to leave the bed, just lay with Demi and kiss her sometimes and make her laugh. He thinks that’s all he needs to be happy right now.

“Nick?” Demi’s voice is thick with sleep, and she kind of nuzzles him after speaking, burying her face in his shirt. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Nick replies, rubbing circles on her back. His arm is asleep from her lying on it, but he can’t be bothered to care. “Early? I think we’re at the venue.”

Demi makes a small noise of protest. “I don’t want to be there, yet. I wanna sleep more.”

“You can sleep more,” Nick says, voice soft. He can’t believe how adorable Demi sounds; he’s heard her sleepy before, of course, but it’s different when he wakes up to her like this. When the reason she’s so tired is because they were up way too late making out.

“No, not alone,” Demi says, voice jokingly petulant. “I want to sleep with you.”

The silence that follows is too long, on the verge of awkward. Nick’s brain isn’t really working, though, so he has no idea how to stop it. Obviously she didn’t mean what she said the way it came out, Nick knows this, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. It doesn’t stop him from hoping she did mean it that way.

“Uh,” she says, finally, laughter in her voice. “That was weird, huh?”

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” Okay, Nick’s voice sounds dumb, way rougher than usual, which makes everything weirder. Great. So, instead of lying there being weird, he slowly pulls his arm out from underneath her and sits up. She just looks up at him, smiling, and the weirdness is forgotten.

“I need to go make a phone call,” Nick says, when he figures they’ve been smiling at each other like losers for long enough. “Hopefully it won’t be too long.”

Demi yawns, stretching. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” He moves to leave, but she catches him by the front of his shirt. “Hey. I need a kiss.”

Nick’s breath catches in his throat. How is this real life? “Oh, yeah.” He leans down, pressing his lips against hers, and it’s meant to be chaste, quick, a goodbye, but Demi just pulls him closer, bites gently on his bottom lip, and the next thing Nick knows, ten minutes have passed and he hasn’t made his phone call. It’s not his fault Demi is such an awesome kisser.

When he finally manages to leave, grabbing his phone off the bedside table, he feels both more and less ready for the conversation he needs to have. But he knows he has to; he owes it to Joe to tell him what happened with Demi, even though it’s been over five years since they broke up and Joe was never really into her in the first place. It’s just the right thing to do.

He wanders around the parking lot, fingers hovering over Joe’s name for at least five minutes before he finally can hit the call button. It rings five times before Joe picks up, sounding groggy. “What?”

“Hey, Joe,” Nick says, knowing he sounds ridiculous. He has completely forgotten how to sound normal. “I know it’s early, but I wanted to talk to you about something kind of big.”

“You just miss me already, huh?” Joe says, sounding tired still, but at least alert. Maybe it’s better that he’s tired; he doesn’t get mad as quickly then.

“Actually I-” Nick stops, takes a deep breath, starts over. “Listen, this was totally unplanned, and if you’re not cool with it, I can stop. It’s just that…Demi and I kissed last night, and I like her. A lot.”

Joe is quiet for a second, and Nick just waits, barely breathing. “Why wouldn’t I be cool with that?”

“Because you guys-”

Joe laughs, interrupting him. “That was like, five years ago. Everyone is over it.”

Nick feels a little dumb, because obviously everyone is over it, or Joe wouldn’t have dated a bunch of girls since then and Demi wouldn’t have kissed him back, but still. He wanted to make sure. And now he knows it’s okay, so mostly he just feels happy. Relieved. Excited to get back on the bus and kiss Demi again without feeling even a little bit guilty.

--

They have a day off in Orlando, which just means that Nick wakes up at nine thirty in the morning after getting back to his hotel room seven hours earlier – Demi wouldn’t let him leave, always wanting one more kiss, which always turned into another twenty kisses – with this idea that he should take Demi out. They’ve been basically dating for almost a week, and haven’t done anything together besides play shows, hang out, and kiss. And all of that is great, of course, but Demi deserves romantic dinners and days at the beach and all of those boyfriend things that Nick wants to give her.

He knocks on her door thirty minutes later, ready to go and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Demi looks exhausted when she opens the door, still in her pajamas. Her hair is a mess and she has bags under her eyes and she is the most beautiful thing Nick’s ever seen. He ducks down, kissing her quickly, and she laughs despite herself, pulling back. “What do you want?”

“I want to take you out,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. Demi makes a confused face, so he continues. “We haven’t gone on any sort of date, and we have the day off, and I think we should.”

Demi crosses her arms across her chest, tilting her head questioningly. “Weren’t we keeping this quiet for now?”

“I don’t care, come on.” Nick steps forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. She looks up at him, smiling her sleepy smile, and it’s perfect. Nick could just stand here and smile at her forever. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Let’s go to Disney World,” Demi says, grinning.

Nick makes a face. “Really? That’s…what you want to do? Haven’t you been there enough?” He’s okay with them not being a secret, but having their first date be at Disney World seems a little bit like they’re asking to be noticed. Like a publicity stunt.

Demi’s eyes widen. “Been to Disney World enough? Nick, that is crazy talk. It’s the happiest place on earth.” She slides her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. “And since I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, it should be even better.” She kisses him, and okay, that sounds nice.

Besides, they get in for free, still. Which is always cool.

The park is pretty crowded when they get there, which makes sense considering it’s the middle of July, but Nick didn’t really think that part through. They only have two body guards, and he hopes the fact that they haven’t been on the Disney Channel in four years will make them slightly less recognizable, because he doesn’t want to be swarmed. He just wants to take his girlfriend on a freakin’ date and get on Space Mountain without having to wait in line.

No one really notices them for a little while, or at least, no one who comes up to them. They ride Space Mountain twice in a row – which Nick would feel kind of bad about, cutting the line twice, except it’s awesome, so he doesn’t – and head over to Frontierland to ride Splash Mountain and get something to eat. They’re waiting in line for the weird ice cream shaped like Mickey Mouse when the first person comes up to them, a girl who looks about fifteen, holding a camera and looking nervous. Nick takes a deep breath. Okay, fans. He can totally deal with fans.

“Hi,” Demi says, voice bright, and Nick can’t help but smile. Demi’s been a lot better about fan meetings ever since she stopped hanging out with all her scene friends; Nick wouldn’t say they were a bad influence, but well. They were a bad influence. The girl blinks at her for a second before smiling, and Demi laughs. “You’re here for him, huh?”

“No, no, both of you,” the girl says quickly, but Nick can tell, from the way she’s looking at him, that that’s not exactly true. He wonders if she was a Jonas Brothers fan, or if she’s just a fan of him. Either is cool. “So, um, are you guys dating?”

Whoa, okay, Nick did not expect that. He thinks he laughs really awkwardly which, wow, subtle. Demi looks at him, he can see her out of the corner of his eye, letting him make the decision. He’s not good at going public with this kind of stuff, but he also can’t imagine keeping his happiness a secret either. “Uh, yeah, we are.” And Demi takes his hand, squeezing, and he’s not sure if it’s a thank you or not, but he feels like he made the right decision.

Except he hasn’t told anyone besides Joe, so. That will be awkward to explain later, why he told his fans before telling his friends. Oh well, he can’t take it back now.

They run into a few more fans at the Magic Kingdom, and then Demi gets that look on her face that means she’s about ten minutes away from being tired of people, so he presses a kiss to her temple and suggests they go get something to eat at the World Showcase. She smiles at him, her incredulous “how do you know me so well” smile, and Nick wants to tell her it’s because he pays attention, because he’s always paid attention, but she’s twisting her fingers with his and dragging him towards the exit, and the moment to say something sappy has passed.

They eat an early dinner in Paris, a table in the back of this cute little bistro that reminds Nick of real Paris, so. Good job Disney. They get a bottle of wine and Demi gets giggly after two glasses, whispering that she doesn’t usually drink. Nick can remember one summer where it seemed like that was all she did: drink and text him about how Selena hated her because she was a slut and how he was so lucky Miley still loved him because love never lasts and how they were going to write a million sad songs together in Canada because everything good in their lives fucked them over. That was a tough summer, and he’s glad it’s over, so far in the past that it doesn’t even matter anymore. They’re both different people now.

So Demi’s a little tipsy when they leave, leaning into him, and he doesn’t mind. And he definitely doesn’t mind that she gets touchy in the back of the SUV on the way back to the hotel, half in his lap, pressing her lips against his neck over and over and making him shiver. It’s only five, but they head right up to his hotel room, because he needs to kiss her for hours and hours.

He’s not sure what time it is when Demi pulls back and just looks at him, expression calculating. It’s weird, especially considering his hand is inside her bra, but he just looks back, waiting for her to speak. “Why are you so weird about that kind of stuff?”

And Nick has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, because hello, hand in bra and the last thing he remembers them talking about was why the buttons on his shirt were so hard to undo. This doesn’t seem related. “About what stuff?”

“Everyone knowing who you’re dating. Like, why does it matter?” She’s clearly still a little tipsy, her voice slower than usual. Nick slides his hand out from under her shirt, and she makes a little noise of protest, but seriously, he cannot have a normal conversation while feeling her up.

“Um,” Nick mumbles, stalling, trying to find the words. “I guess it doesn’t, really, it’s just the way I was raised. It’s nobody else’s business what I’m doing in my personal life and they should just focus on the music.”

“So why’d you admit it today?”

Nick’s barely sure of the answer to that himself. He shrugs. “It seemed like the right time. I’m happy and I don’t like lying to fans. I wouldn’t ever want to lie about us to anyone.”

Demi grins up at him. “Right answer, you are a rockstar.”

“Yes, yes I am,” he says, and Demi laughs, even louder than usual because of the wine. He loves her laugh so much, and can’t believe he gets to hear it every day. Might get to hear it every day for a long time, if things stay this amazing. And he doesn’t know why they wouldn’t.

“Why aren’t we kissing?” Demi whines, pouting, and it’s Nick’s turn to laugh, because that is a really good question. He kisses her, and a part of him wonders if pictures of them are up on OceanUp or JustJared yet, but a bigger part of him doesn’t care. It’s not important anymore.

--

“Do you kind of wish you were there?” Demi asks, voice low. They’re lying in his bed, clothes rumpled from kissing, and he has his guitar on his lap. He’s not really playing anything specific, just strumming chords, waiting till something sounds good. He’s had so many songs in his head lately and he can’t wait to get them all out. “Do you like, wish you were marrying her instead?”

“What?” Nick looks up, incredibly confused. When did they start talking about Miley? And more importantly, why? Sure, they’re in Atlanta, and Miley is probably all married by now, but it’s not like he was thinking about it today, except when he played Hello Beautiful and then well, he kind of had to think about it.

“You know,” Demi looks down, picks dirt out from under her nails. “If you were there, you could have done that whole protesting thing when the priest asked. It would’ve been pretty romantic.”

Why is this conversation happening? “I don’t want to do that, though.” Nick is speaking slowly, like he’s trying to figure out his thoughts and what’s going on in Demi’s head and not say something dumb. “I mean…I want to be with you.”

Demi smiles slightly, but doesn’t look up. “Miley’s got that whole epic first love thing going on, I remember that. She was your whole world for so long. I remember how destroyed you were when we were filming Camp Rock 2, right after she broke up with you. If you felt like that today, I think it’d be okay.”

Seriously, Nick has no idea what’s going on. Demi is being dumb, and Nick doesn’t even know what part of that to respond to first. “I…don’t feel like that today. And um.” He takes a breath, figuring he might as well go for it. The conversation is weird enough; he can’t possibly make it worse. “Miley was never really my whole world after I met you.”

“Oh,” Demi breathes, a long exhale. And then she looks up, and she’s smiling, and Nick’s heart jumps. “Oh. Okay then. That’s…that’s cool.” And her smile is so bright and dorky and Nick knows he’s smiling back in exactly the same way, and he really has no idea how he manages to say the right stuff with Demi. He was never good at that with Miley or Selena or anyone, but Demi just makes it easy. He knows what she needs to hear, and it’s always the truth, so he can always say it.

“Now, write me a song, Nick,” she says, settling down into the bed, head sinking into the pillows. “I signed up for this expecting a million love songs, and you haven’t even given me one. You’re a real disappointment.”

And Miley is forgotten again, the way she always is when Nick is around Demi, and he plays guitar and they sing stupid nonsense lyrics at each other until they’re both yawning, and it’s the best. Demi snuggles into his side, fitting perfectly even with the guitar in the way, and he almost thinks she’s asleep until she speaks. “Play me something real.”

And he does, he plays her something he wrote for her years ago, something he never thought anyone would hear, let alone her. He still remembers all the notes, every word, and it’s all stupid and lame and kind of sad, written back when he thought she could never feel anything for him, but Demi just smiles while he plays, making little happy sleepy noises when she really likes the lyrics, and Nick is pretty sure it was worth it. Eight years of denial and depressing love songs, but they’re here now, Demi falling asleep next to him as he sings about how much he loves her, words he means more now than he did then. Than he has ever meant before.

part two