Warnings: Sibling incest. (Please note the rating -- the sex is NOT glossed over.)

Summary: Frank is trying to run from a problem. Joe has other ideas. Frank is 19; Joe, 18.

Canon note: While Mrs. Hardy is alive and well in the books, she was never a part of the Hardy Boys Mysteries, which starred Parker Stevenson and Shaun Cassidy. If the show gave a reason for her absence, I don't remember it, so I went my own way.

For those hoping for something more grounded in the books, I apologize, but I really do need the chemistry between actors to do my thing and have used their physical descriptions. (Main difference between the books is that Parker (Frank) has blue eyes, while Shaun (Joe) has brown eyes and hair a little too dark to be considered blond versus light brown.)

BTW, for good or ill, this story exists because of my friend, Richel. I was in the mood to write something fun. She was in the mood to nag me in this direction. As I believe in a fair split between friends, I will accept any words of praise. Send the complaints to her. ;>

Never run away from a problem.

Frank Hardy had heard those words of wisdom more than once, but the walls were closing in and how could a man think when he was slowly suffocating? Needing to escape, he layered up, put on his running shoes and headed for the front door.

"Frank." He flinched at the sound of his aunt's voice, but turned toward where she sat in the front room with his brother, Joe. "You can't be thinking of running tonight. It's freezing!"

He forced a smile. "I'll be fine, Aunt Gertrude," he assured her. "I won't go far." Close to a lie, but not quite. The way he felt, he would happily start running and not stop until he was five states away. However, it *was* freezing outside and the pragmatist in him said he'd be back after doing his usual five miles.

Neither of his relatives looked pleased, and for one horrible moment something in Joe's eyes whispered he was thinking of coming along. Fortunately, his younger brother opted to mutter, "Have a good run," and returned his attention to the book he was reading.

With much the same flutter in his stomach he experienced when narrowly missing getting bludgeoned by some crook, Frank bolted out the door. He started along his normal route, figuring if the need to escape overcame common sense and he wanted to keep going, he could always do another circuit.

A wind heavy with the promise of snow or worse, knifed through him, and he almost turned back before he'd really begun, but he simply couldn't face hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening or, more importantly, the inevitable moment when Joe decided Frank had been alone too long and made it his mission to drag him downstairs to join in the family togetherness.

Frank ran harder at the very thought. What was he going to do? A year ago, he'd had his escape from Bayport all planned – he'd go away to college. It was what high school grads generally did so no one would have thought much about it, even if his father had been surprised as both Frank and Joe had never expressed any desire for higher education, preferring the on-the-job-training of being the sons of respected private detective.

Something between a sob and a sigh caught in Frank's throat at the memory of his long cherished plans of officially joining his father's detective agency. He missed the days when the future had seemed so simple. He'd even been able to cling to that future when, shortly after his sixteenth birthday, he'd done some inner detective work and figured out he was gay. Not the best thing to be in a conservative New England town, but he had a loving supportive family and had not really been afraid of his secret being exposed. Then things had gotten worse – he'd fallen in love. With Joe.

No Hardy and Hardy Detective Agency for Frank Hardy. In one horrible moment of self-discovery, every dream he'd ever had had turned to ashes. College seemed the best way to compensate. He'd told his father he wanted to take some business courses, maybe some psychology – both fields of study which would help the agency. A year or two away from home and he might come to his senses about Joe. If not, he could say he'd found something else he wanted to do with his life and gently exit from the family business.

Not a bad plan. Trouble was, fate had intervened a few weeks before his high school graduation in the form of a huge case. Simple enough on the surface – vetting the personnel for a new computer company moving into town – the shear volume of work had consumed the lives of Fenton Hardy and his sons for the entire summer and was still going strong when Joe had to go back to school for his senior year.

Frank hadn't been able to bring himself to abandon his family when his father needed his help. Instead, he'd packed away his acceptance letters and stayed. When things had finally wrapped up, it was mid-January and too late for a second semester start. He'd played lip service to his idea and enrolled in a couple of classes at the community college, but he was trapped in Bayport until the summer sessions began. The end in sight, Frank had figured he could survive. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to take Joe into account.

His brother had opted to celebrate his eighteenth birthday by applying to every college Frank had applied to. Where ever Frank went, Joe would go and wasn't it great, now they could be roommates. Frank would never know why he hadn't had a heart attack on the spot. At least in Bayport they had their own rooms and relatives to keep Frank from giving into baser instincts. What did he do now? Almost a week had passed since the great roommate announcement, and Frank had yet to think of a way out of this. The best he'd been able to come up with was telling Joe he was gay and hoping his little brother would be disgusted enough to not want anything to do with him.

Not a good plan, not a good plan at all. First, maybe his love for Joe had taken a twisted path, but he did love him and did not want his scorn. Second, Joe probably wouldn't scorn him. Even worse, he might ask for details. Details Frank didn't have because he'd never been with another guy since he'd been in love with Joe almost as long as he'd known he wanted to date guys. More pathetic than disgusting. What he needed was some bawdy tale about sneaking off to visit bath houses and hundreds of conquests. The Internet could get him the details he needed to sound convincing … to anyone but Joe. No matter how hard Frank tried, he'd never been able to fool Joe. Keep a secret from him, yes. Fool him, no. Which brought him back to problems and not running.

Good advice. He even thought he'd done his fair share of heeding it over the years. Unfortunately, fate had apparently been unimpressed by past deeds. Perhaps his error had been his literal defiance for the moment he sped up, he faintly heard someone shout his name.

Always preferring to run against the flow of traffic even when on sidewalks, he hadn't paid attention to the few cars that had come up from behind him. The shout made him spin around in time to see the latest car swerve from the far lane and head straight at him.

Frank's brain shut down and reflexes took over sending him leaping to one side. The car missed him by inches, the force of its momentum knocking Frank further off balance and he went flying into an iron fence. His right shoulder took the worst of the impact, and he gasped in pain, even as his instinct for self-preservation got him to his feet and moving again.

He heard the car breaking, turning to come after him, and he darted up the next side street. He was in trouble. Big trouble. Whoever was in the car had chosen his moment well, waiting until Frank had entered a housing division where the residents preferred high fences. He hadn't the time to try and get over one leaving him nowhere to go to get off the street.

He jumped again, this time further into the street, his hands scrapping against the pavement as he rolled away from the deadly fender. Metal collided with a stone fence instead of him, but the impact lacked the impressive sound of a totaled car.

Sprinting full out he put several yards between himself and his attackers before he heard the car coming again. His mind began to work again, and he could hear his aunt complaining about man-made road hazards and a car that had gone off the road yesterday.

A plan formed and he turned right onto the next road. Somehow he managed to run even faster. He could feel the car coming up behind him, putting on speed to flatten him like some hapless possum. At least the driver seemed too intent on killing Frank to react to the warning signs posted along the road. He bit his lip, bracing himself, then ran straight out into thin air.

Unable to see the ground in the darkness, he hurtled forward, downward, then struck mud frozen hard as concrete. The wind whooshed from his lungs, his head erupted in a pain so sharp it seemed hot, then the car went flying over his head, crashing into the last car gobbled up by slick roads and an unexpected ten-foot drop.

Barely louder than the ringing in his ears, the explosion roared up in an unexpected fireball, making his mind scream at him to escape the searing heat, but he couldn’t get air into his lungs.

Hands gripped his arms, yanking him upward, then over a pair of shoulders. Not quite as broad as his own, but oh, so familiar shoulders. Frank relaxed and his lungs worked again. Safe. He was safe.

A gash on the head which bleed with the usual enthusiasm of a head wound, scrapes and an impressive array of bruises; Joe listened to the doctor describe Frank's injuries to his father and aunt while hiding his own wound. As it was one to the spirit, not his flesh, he found it a fairly easy task. Especially since he'd been hiding this particular wound for twelve years.

Having listened enough to know his brother hadn't been seriously hurt, he slipped away and found the cubicle where the hospital had stuck Frank. In Joe's opinion, Frank looked awful. Blood matted a large swath of his hair, a host of bandages decorated his face and torso, and the pallor of his skin was flat out alarming. But he wasn't dying and in this day and age that meant they'd be taking him home to either recover or suffer some mysterious complication to throw him into the risk of death category.

Beautiful blue eyes fluttered open and looked at him. "You followed me."

Joe shrugged. He'd known Frank had needed some space, so he'd waited a minute after his brother had left the house before he'd yanked on his coat, grabbed up Frank's, then headed out. In boots instead of running shoes, he'd not attempted to follow his brother. Instead, knowing Frank's usual route, he'd bisected it, allowing him to keep Frank in view most of the time. "You were upset."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Frank's mouth. "Never could fool you."

"Nope," Joe agreed. "Thought by now you'd stop trying." He sighed and, mindful of his brother's bumps and bruises, lightly laid his hand on Frank's arm. When he'd followed, he'd been worried Frank would run himself into an exhausted stupor. His thumb caressed the skin beneath it, and he resisted the urge to smile when his touch raised a host of goose bumps. He'd planned on nothing more than wrapping his exhausted brother in his coat, then going for the van to bring him home. Instead he'd almost witnessed Frank's murder. "If I hadn't been there to shout a warning. …"

"But you were. You're always there when I need you."

He stared at the bruised torso and sternly told himself hugging Frank wasn't a good idea. Kissing him was a temptation, but he figured his brother had had enough shocks for one night. "Let's get you dressed and out of here."

He saw the objection form in Frank's eyes, but Joe gave him a very specific glare. He'd worked long and hard at cultivating a look that would make his older brother back down, but he'd managed the trick of it before either of them was out of grade school. Much more convenient than a shouting match, especially since the shouting was usually about Frank being in no condition to shout.

Frank sighed. "Okay. Thanks, Joe."

Joe gave him a gentle smile in answer, but Frank might as well have thanked him for breathing.

Although his head had argued with a rock sharp enough to gash his head, Frank had managed to avoid a concussion, allowing the hospital to give him a shot of pain killers to go along with the antibiotics. Disconnected and disoriented, he welcomed Joe's hands steadying him on the way to the car and couldn't resist curling into his warmth when they both ended up in the backseat of their father's car.

Feeling safe and warm, he slept, then groaned a sleepy protest when Joe gently shook him awake to go into the house. Joe gave his jaw a gentle caress in answer, but then his hands pulled Frank up and out of the car. What seemed like moments later, he was being urged down onto the comfort of his bed.

"Joe," he whispered, bereft when the warmth of his brother's body vanished.

"Shh," his brother ordered, but caressed his jaw again. "I'm going to get some warm water and clean you up."

Frank considered the state of his body – sweaty from his run, dirty from his encounters with the ground and decorated with dried blood. Suddenly he felt sticky and uncomfortable. "Good idea."

Joe smiled down at him. "I thought you might approve." Another caress. "Don't try to stay awake."

"Won't," Frank promised, then allowed himself to drift off.

Joe went down to the kitchen to find his aunt getting a basin out of the pantry. He sighed. He really could have done without this part of the ritual. It was a darned good thing he loved her, he thought darkly, while forcing a smile.

"I take care of that, Aunt Gertrude," he said moving to take the basin from her hands. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

She frowned, acting for all the world like Joe didn't always insist on looking after Frank. "I was going to suggest the same to you."

He saw the concern in her eyes and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I need to do this," he told her, letting some of his own hurt reach his face. He'd almost lost Frank. He needed to be with him, to touch him, to know he hadn't lost him. He had no doubts that she felt a similar need, and a glance at his father, told him Fenton Hardy wouldn't mind something to do as well.

It made no difference at all to Joe. In this he was and always had been unyielding. "Go to bed," he told them, his voice firm and undoubtedly an unnerving contrast to the haunted look he'd allowed them to see. "I'll take care of Frank."

Fenton nodded, giving his permission at the same time his eyes conveyed his sympathy to his sister. "I think I'll check in with Chief Collig. See if they've found out who was in that car."

Remembering the stench of burning flesh, Joe doubted it. He supposed he should feel some regret about the driver being killed. Shear bad luck that the equipment to get the other wreck out of the grading ditch wouldn't arrive until tomorrow. Bad luck for the driver at least. Joe saw it as a reason for celebration -- one would-be murderer off the street, and hopefully the end of any further threat to Frank.

Gertrude sighed and released her hold on the basin. "All right. I'll see you both in the morning."

Joe gave her a kiss on the cheek, feeling sorry for her, but he didn't consider relenting for an instant. After all, she'd brought this on herself. Taking care of Frank was Joe's privilege. Had been since the night their mother had died.

12 Years Earlier Joe was scared. Really scared. A siren had woke him up, and now the strobe of emergency lights kept flickering through his room. Trembling, clutching his stuffed lion in his arms, he crept out into the hallway.

Voices were coming from his mommy and daddy's room. His heart pounding, he moved closer, then peered inside. The first thing he saw were the tears on his father's face. He'd never seen his father cry.

Tears welled in his own eyes and his throat felt tight. "Daddy?" he whispered.

"Oh, Joe," his aunt whispered, hurrying to him and scooping him up. She held him tight, like mommy had before she'd started getting sick all the time. He'd missed it, and liked it when Daddy's sister had come to live with them, but tonight it scared him even more.

She tried to turn him so he couldn't see the bed, but he could see his mommy lying there. Asleep. But how could she be asleep with all this noise and people in her room? "Mommy?"

His face whiter than Mommy's or Frank's, Daddy looked up from where he sat on the bed, Mommy's hand clutched in his. "Joe. …"

"Mommy's gone?" Joe asked, fear making him drop his toy so he could grip his aunt's robe. Daddy had told him about how this happened sometimes. How a person could get sick and go away forever.

"Yes, son. … I …"

Joe looked at his mommy's face. White face. No color. Like Frank. And there were little bumps on her throat. Like Frank's.

One of the men in a uniform touched Daddy's arm. "We should take her now, sir."

Take? Go away forever. They were taking Mommy away. Forever. "No!" he shouted, squirming wildly and freeing himself from his aunt's grasp. Daddy reached for him, but Joe didn't run toward the bed. He understood Mommy was gone. He whirled around and ran from his parents' room. Down the short hall, through another door, and he was jumping onto his brother's bed. "Frank!" he shouted.

"Joe?" a weak voice answered him and eyes opened.

Joe wrapped himself around his brother and held on tight.

Frank whimpered in pain at the jostling – the bumps made his neck hurt and Joe had seen them near his thing too.

"Sorry," he whispered, but held him even tighter.

His voice a scratchy, faint sound, he said, "I'm scared, Joe." He would have seen the lights, too, but Joe knew Frank was too sick to get out of bed.

"Don't worry. Won't let them take you, Frank," he said fiercely. "I won't."

"Where's Mommy? I want Mommy."

Joe pressed his face to Frank's neck. "Mommy's gone."

"Gone? Like … Daddy said?"

"Like Daddy said."

The door opened wider, and Daddy stood there. Joe jerked away from Frank and hurtled himself at his father. "No!" he shouted. His fists beat against his daddy's chest. "You can't take, Frank! He's mine! He's mine!"

"God, Joe, no." Daddy scooped him up and carried him back to the bed. "Frank's not going anywhere. He's not going away."

"Sick like Mommy," Joe sobbed, reaching for his brother.

"No, Mommy was sick in another way," Daddy said, settling him down next to Frank, helping him snuggle up to his brother without making Frank hurt.

Joe didn't believe him. "Has bumps."

Daddy's hand rubbed his back, while the other hand stroked Frank's arm. "You never do miss much, do you son." He kissed Joe's forehead, then Frank's. "Mommy did have what Frank has, but she had something worse, too. Frank won't get that. I promise. He'll be fine."

Joe believed that. He believed it because he wouldn't let anything else happen. He looked into his brother's frightened eyes and held him. It didn’t matter what Daddy did or didn't say. Joe would protect his brother.

Present

Armed with a basin full of hot water and an armload of fluffy toweling, Joe returned to Frank's room, then settled on the edge of the bed. Frank drifted in and out of sleep while Joe worked, gently wiping away the worst of the blood and grime.

No matter how old they got it always amazed Joe how close the terror was of the night he'd been so certain he was going to lose Frank. In some ways he'd been so worried about his brother that he'd never really mourned their mother. He hadn't gone to her funeral, becoming frantic at the very suggestion he leave Frank.

Too ill to go himself, Frank had needed him. He'd cried and cried while Joe had held him. While Joe had been unable to shake the feeling Frank might die, enough of what their father had said had sunk in for Frank to feel certain he'd made their mother sick and killed her. Nothing anyone had said could shake either boy's belief.

For six weeks Frank had clung to him as much as arms weakened by illness could. Six weeks while Joe cared for him, remembering how to touch him without hurting him, doing all he could to prevent anyone who he associated with their mother's death from coming near him. Six weeks. A long, long time in the life of a child. To his young ears mononucleosis had sounded like some horrible pronouncement of doom.

It hadn't helped at all that mono had burned the baby fat from Frank's body, making him look frail and sickly until years later when time had done the same for Frank's classmates. It had made Joe all the more protective, and often he'd felt more like the older brother. And Frank had needed him. For over a year, he'd caught every cold and flu that came along, making him an easy target for childhood taunts and the attention of bullies.

Even now, Joe couldn't shake the terror from his soul. Frank was part of him, and to lose him would be to lose himself.

Joe sighed and pulled the covers back over Frank. Sometimes he wondered if Frank had ever had any luck getting over the notion he'd killed their mother. She'd had breast cancer. Weakened from the chemo and the disease ravaging her body, she'd been in no condition to fight off a case of mono. A brutal kindness in the end. The cancer had reached her brain. A long coma and pain had been her future until the mono had intervened.

He remembered Frank sitting on her bed, reading to her, while they shared a glass of juice. There was no way of knowing which of them had given the other the mono. No way at all. Logic said Frank had no reason to blame himself, but it also said Joe had no reason to for his stomach to lurch every time Frank so much as sneezed.

Joe got rid of his supplies, washed up himself, then pulled on a pair of pajamas. Ready for bed, he returned to Frank's room and stretched out on top of the covers, pulling up a thick comforter to keep him warm and his cold-blooded brother even warmer.

Frank shifted around, snuggling up to him without waking up. The house quiet and dark, Joe took a risk and kissed him lightly on the forehead. With luck, he'd wake up before everyone else and get back to his room before anyone could discover where he'd spent the night. But if things went the way they normally did, he'd wake up to find Aunt Gertrude standing in the doorway, watching them.

Joe had done everything he could to make things look as chaste as possible, but he needed to be here. No matter what the risk, when Frank was hurt, this was where Joe needed to be.

Movement woke Frank, and he opened his eyes to find Joe getting out of his bed. "Joe?"

Joe paused and a warm hand cupped Frank's cheek. "Shh, go back to sleep."

"Sun's up," he protested, nuzzling the hand.

"Yeah, but you were up until the middle of the night."

"So were you."

Joe leaned close, his lips all but caressing Frank's ear as he whispered, "I had the good sense not to play chicken with a speeding car."

Frank heard the pain in his brother's voice and turned his head until their lips were almost touching. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Terrified is a better word."

"Joe. …" he closed his eyes against the intimacy of the moment, willing his twisted soul not to turn something precious into arousal.

"Tell me why you were running."

So hard to resist Joe at moments like this. Warm and surrounded with the wealth of his brother's love, Frank perversely never felt less like a brother. Joe was everything to him. To lose him. … "I'm afraid." The bed dipped as Joe shifted, then got up. Frank opened his eyes to find him staring down at him with a fond smile. "There's no need to be," Joe told him, then slipped out of the room.

"That's what you think," he sighed once the door was safely closed between them. Frank didn't know if it were a curse or a blessing that he was too tired and sore to have an erection. He would have loved to have pleasured himself while the bed was still warm from the heat of Joe's body, but he didn't want to taint the moment either. He sighed more convinced than ever he needed to escape, but he knew Joe would never let him go.

Joe carried Aunt Gertrude's bag down the stairs and resisted the impulse to dance a jig.

The autopsy had revealed Frank's assailant had been a nutcase they'd recommended the computer firm not hire. Frank had done the lion's share of the work on the security checks so he'd been the Hardy the man had focused on. The exploding car had ended any further threat.

Confident his son was safe, their father had taken an out-of-town case and had insisted his sister not cancel the cruise she'd been planning to take for months.

Frank turned from the front window and called, "The limo is here."

"Goodness, that was fast," Aunt Gertrude said, emerging from the kitchen and her latest check that she'd left them with enough food to eat for her week-long absence. Last time Joe had looked, she'd put enough color-coded containers in the refrigerator to feed an army for a month.

"Are you certain you boys will be all right?" she asked in the flurry of hugs and kisses goodbye.

"Of course," Frank answered. Which wasn't terribly convincing given the lack of color in his face. His poor Frank was definitely stressed.

She gave Frank a worried look, but Joe put an arm around her waist and guided her to the door. "We'll be fine, Aunt Gertrude. You just go and have a great time."

Another glance toward Frank. "I could cancel. I know Helen would understand."

For a moment Frank looked like a drowning man offered a life preserver, but then he shook himself and gave her a big smile. "You are going on that cruise if Joe and I have to personally carry you on board."

Joe smiled. That was his Frank. Terrified, but unwilling to let someone he loved suffer for it. And odds were Helen wouldn't understand. Aunt Gertrude's best friend had many good qualities, but it would be pushing it to forfeit a dream vacation because Frank looked off-color.

"All right, boys," she laughed. "No need to get rough."

They all exchanged another round of kisses, then she was stepping out the door.

Bless him, Frank tried to stall off the inevitable. "Are you sure you don't want us to drive you to the docks? It wouldn't be any trouble."

Her gaze shifted to Joe, then back to Frank so quickly Joe might have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it. Did she suspect? He never could tell if he saw suspicion in her eyes or regret Frank needed Joe and not her.

The doubt made Joe cautious. He did not want Frank to suffer because of him.

"No, Helen's determined to go first class all the way." She gave them a broad smile. "Besides, I've never ridden in a limousine before."

"Have fun," Joe told her, then turned her suitcase over to the driver. They watched from the doorway until Aunt and limo had disappeared over the horizon, then Frank glanced at him and lost what little color remained in his face.

With a muttered comment about needing to do some work on his computer, Frank fled up the stairs.

Joe couldn't help but chuckle when he heard the door to his brother's room shutting with a jolt bordering on a slam. Poor Frank. Joe could almost hear the wheels spinning in his brother's head.

All alone for a week with his poor, helpless baby brother. How would he ever resist temptation and keep his lecherous hands to himself? His mirth might have spilled over into a full blown belly laugh if he hadn't known most people would see it precisely that way. Frank was the oldest, therefore he was the foul seducer, and Joe the innocent seducee.

Joe shook his head. People were idiots.

He ached to go straight upstairs and put an end to this, but he remembered the hesitation in his aunt's eyes. Better safe than sorry, he decided and settled down to watch one of a stack of movies he'd rented.

Fifteen minutes into 'The X-Men' the front door opened, and his aunt rushed in.

"Aunt Gertrude, is something wrong?" he asked doing his best to look startled.

"Nothing but old age, dear," she said, rushing over to the desk. "I can't believe I left without my passport! Thank heavens Helen knows I'm a scattered-brained idiot and demanded to see it."

She reached into the drawer where she kept her important papers, extracted her passport, kissed him on the cheek and rushed back out the door. All in all a classic Aunt Gertrude moment. Or a failed attempt to catch Joe pouncing on his brother. He wondered if he'd ever figure out which one it was.

Shaking his head, he settled back onto the couch and finished watching his movie, then put in another one. When the end credits rolled on 'The Mummy,' a glance at the clock confirmed a full ninety minutes had passed since Aunt Gertrude's ship should have sailed. Plenty of time for her to 'accidentally' miss the boat and return. Having done all he could to protect his brother, he announced to the room, "Okay, brother mine, time's up."

Having pushed his patience to the limit, he ran up the stairs, then paused at Frank's door to collect himself. His groin protesting the tightness of his jeans, he grabbed the hem of the white sweater he was wearing and began pulling it off as he entered the room.

"Joe!" Frank's voice sounded a lot like a screech. "What?-"

"Just returning your sweater," Joe assured him, heading for the closet without even glancing toward where Frank sat at his computer desk.

"I wish you'd stop pilfering my wardrobe," Frank complained, probably considering it a safe venting topic.

"I like wearing your clothes. They smell like you," Joe answered simply.

He heard the click of Frank's jaw snapping shut and smiled as he hung up the sweater. "Be nice if you'd wear a few things of mine."

"Y-you're clothes would be too tight on me."

Joe turned around and let himself enjoy the sight of his handsome brother. "Nah, just tight enough to really be sexy."

Frank looked lost for words, his eyes growing wider and wider as Joe walked toward him.

"Of course, you could make a burlap sack look great," Joe told him. "Although I prefer you in tight jeans."

Frank's mouth moved, but he only managed to get sound behind, "What … joke. …"

He straddled Frank's lap and sat down while Frank did an amazing impression of a rabbit frozen with fear. Inspired by the simile, Joe began to nibble on his pretty bunny's lower lip. Delicious.

"Joe-"

"No talking," Joe ordered, then slipped his tongue into Frank's mouth. Stunned non-resistance, slowly transformed into hesitant response.

Pleased, Joe drew back, pulling Frank to his feet. Distracting his brother with further kisses, he got rid of Frank's shirt, then pushed his jeans and jockey shorts down his thighs.

The tight denim encasing Frank's legs ensuring he couldn't make a break for it, Joe stepped back to admire his handiwork. Dazed, lips swollen with kisses, his cock erect and leaking, Frank was every wet dream Joe had ever had all rolled into one gorgeous package. "Beautiful," he sighed happily, then pushed Frank back onto his bed.

Making short work of his own clothes, Joe literally pounced on Frank, then began to thrust, their cocks gliding together with each stroke.

Immobilized from his thighs down, Frank squirmed beneath him, his hands grasping Joe's shoulders. "Joe!" he screamed, a warm rush of fluid encouraging Joe to speed up.

His own release came moments later, and he had to fight the impulse to collapse on top of his brother. Instead he shifted up onto his elbows, and looked down at his lover.

There was worry in the eyes looking back. "Poor Frank, you were so worried about how you felt you never noticed I was crazy about you." He shook his head amazed. "How could a great detective like you miss that I've been in love with you all our lives?"

"In love? With me?"

"Love you, want you, need you. Always."

Frank closed his eyes as if he'd heard something painful, but when they opened again, they fairly glowed with happiness. "Joe, I love you."

"I know, Frank," he said. "I knew it even before you did."

"Jerk, could have told me."

"Right. Bad enough you were freaking out over falling for your brother. All either of us needed was for me to jump you after I had my first wet dream."

Frank smiled slightly. "Suppose I'd have had a heart attack," he admitted. "But you would have taken care of me."

"Always," Joe agreed, then reached down to snatch up his jeans. "Speaking of taking care of you. …"

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

Joe pulled a tube out of his pocket, but Frank didn't look enlightened. Joe sighed. "Frank, there is a whole wealth of information on the Internet. You might want to check it out."

Frank looked defensive. "I tried, but you kept barging into my room."

Sensing a 'rotten little brother' tirade looming, Joe kissed him again. When Frank seemed wowed enough to forget his grievances, Joe said, "I could give you a hands on demonstration."

A dubious look rewarded his generosity. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"I've read the finest free smut available," Joe assured him.

"Uh huh, then why are you talking instead of fucking me?"

Joe's eyes narrowed. "You know damned well what the lube is for."

Frank smiled. "Well, I did manage to take advantage of a few bouts of insomnia."

"Not to mention the eight hours a day I spent in school."

"No, that's when I watched the tapes I made of 'Queer as Folk.'"

Joe glared at him. "Roll over, Frank."

Frank studied his face for a long moment. "You want to hit me or fuck me?"

"Don't tempt me," Joe growled, then shifted so Frank could roll over onto his belly.

Getting Frank ready took a lot longer than either of them expected – apparently free porno took a few shortcuts – but a lot of kissing and nuzzling entertained them while Joe's fingers wiggled inside Frank.

"Joe, now," Frank groaned when his body finally yielded to three fingers.

Half out of his mind from teenage hormones and the taste of his brother, Joe obeyed with enthusiasm, then froze when Frank cried out in pain. "Frank?"

"'s okay, just give me a sec."

Joe peeled himself off of him enough to get a hand between them and rub the tight muscles in Frank's lower back. As always, it soothed his brother and the tense body relaxed, allowing Joe to push the rest of the way in.

Snuggling up tight against Frank again, he began to thrust while he feasted on the back of Frank's neck. In an odd way he felt almost as if he were six again, frantically trying to find some way to announce to the world that Frank was his and his alone. With each push of his hips, triumph sung through his veins. His. Frank was his. His to love. His to protect. His. When he came he howled his pleasure with all the enthusiasm of a frustrated child finally getting his way.

The world teetered on edge, but not wanting to leave his lover unsatisfied he fought the urge to phase out and groped for Frank's cock. He found it limp, warm and sticky. "You came," he gasped.

"Couldn't help it," Frank answered, his own breathing sounding more like a pant. "That sound you made."

"Umm," he hugged Frank closer. "Mine."

A soft gurgle that might have been an exhausted chuckle answered him.

"Hmm?"

"Now I know how a cow feels after being branded."

"Sore?"

"A little. Mostly possessed."

"Mmm, not a cow. Priceless heirloom maybe, but not a cow. Eyes are the wrong color."

Frank did manage a laugh this time.

Joe frowned at the way it made them both shake. "Go to sleep. Do it again later." He feel asleep before Frank could answer him.

Frank's eyes snapped open, his mind screaming something was wrong. What? No, everything was fine. Joe held him. Always meant everything was all right. Must have had some nightmare, he decided and started to drift off again.

Joe shifted behind him and a soft groin pressed against his ass. Frank's eyes opened wide again. Oh, God. What had they done? His mind reeling, he shifted and a dull pain gave him all the answers he needed. Caught between ecstasy and horror, he found he couldn't think with Joe holding him so tightly. And he needed to think.

Easing out of Joe's arms, then the bed, he made a quick escape into the bathroom. His mind refused to settle down and form a thought, while the sweet ache in his ass urged him to beg Joe to take him again.

Hovering on the brink of both an orgasm and a brain aneurysm, he decided he'd have a better chance at forming a coherent thought if he washed off the evidence. It might have worked if not for that ache. Every move made the ghost of what they'd done sing through his body, and his cock hardened even as he tried to tell himself how wrong this was.

The shower door opened behind him, and Joe's arm snaked around his body, pulling him back against his torso. "Did we cover the fact you think too much?" he asked.

"Joe-"

"Shut up, Frank," he told him, then pushed him forward.

Frank had a second to brace himself, then Joe pushed inside him again. He groaned loudly and came on the second thrust, then hardened again by the fifth.

Joe had to hold him up when he came for the second time, then they both sank to the floor in the wake of Joe's release. He curled up against his brother and gave serious thought to falling back asleep.

"Frank."

"Quiet. Trying to sleep."

"We'll drown."

"Maybe."

"If we don't freeze to death when the hot water runs out."

"Mmm."

"Frank, get up."

"Can't. Fucked too well."

"While my ego appreciates the sentiment, the bed is better suited for cuddling."

"Says you."

"Frank, get up or I'll tell Dad how the van really got banged up last month."

His eyes opened. "You wouldn't."

"Try me. This floor is hard and I hate cold water."

"Jerk."

"That I am. Up we go."

Grumbling all the way, he let Joe help him to his feet. Once up, he tried to head straight for his bed. Joe's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Frank, we're wet," he pointed out, pressing a towel into Frank's hands.

"Don't care," Frank muttered, dropping the thing. Much too heavy to hold.

Joe sighed and snatched it up. "You'll get the sheets wet."

"Don't care. My bed, my sheets."

"Our bed. Our sheets. And I want 'em dry," Joe scolded him.

"Oh." He held still while Joe dried his torso, then frowned when things moved to lower areas. "We're committing incest."

"Uh huh."

"That's bad."

"Not really."

Frank frowned having not really expected an argument on that particular point. "Why not?"

"Okay, why is incest a bad thing?"

They seemed to have come back to the coherent thought thing Frank had hoped the shower would help. It hadn't so he couldn't do more than frown.

His rotten brother laughed at him. "Poor Frank, I really have short-circuited your brain."

"What's your point?"

"My point is, there are two reasons why incest is a bad thing between siblings. One, to keep one brother from forcing the other into doing something he doesn't want to do. Did I force you, Frank?"

He scowled. "Jumped me."

Joe looked up from drying Frank's foot to give him an unrepentant smile. "Got tired of waiting for you to do the jumping."

"There is that. What's the second reason?"

Joe stood up and dropped the towel onto the floor. "To prevent birth defects. You can always take the pill if you're worried about that."

"Jerk."

"You're getting redundant, brother mine, now back to bed."

There was something all too easy about this, but Frank was too interested in getting into bed and Joe's arms to argue.

Joe paused the tape of 'Independence Day' halfway through the President's inspired speech. He wasn't feeling too inspired himself, and his stomach was grumbling.

Padding into the kitchen, he got a gallon of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer. Deciding there wasn't enough left to bother with a bowl, he grabbed a spoon, then returned to the living room. Normally, it took a week to go through a gallon of ice cream. He'd gone through two in the three days since Aunt Gertrude had left town. It was a matter of survival, not gluttony.

Inspired by teenaged-hormones and a handsome, accessible lover, his body had responded with enthusiasm to the change in his relationship with Frank. Seemed like if they weren't going at it like rabbits in heat, Joe was eating to store up the calories for the next session.

He sighed, his spoon scraping the bottom of the container. Somehow he always thought he'd be happier in the middle of a sexfest. Of course, he'd also thought that once he'd shown Frank they were meant for each other, his older brother would get busy stocking up on the calories, too.

Instead Frank was doing what he always did between bouts – avoiding Joe.

'Did I force you, Frank?' Joe had asked the question to tease his brother, but now it haunted him. *Had* he forced Frank? As far as Joe could tell, Frank had wanted him for five years. A long time to do nothing, but worry and hurt.

Maybe Frank had gotten so used to being tied up in knots he didn't know how to handle this. Or maybe, as much as Joe knew Frank loved him, maybe Frank hated the idea of committing incest even more.

'Brilliant, Joe. *Now* you think of that.' He'd been so certain Frank had been holding back solely to protect Joe he'd not really considered the notion his brother might have also been protecting himself.

A sin and a crime. Nasty double-whammy. Joe loved Frank so much it hadn't mattered. Apparently he didn't love Frank enough to find out if it mattered to Frank.

Joe frowned at the empty ice cream carton. It upset him he'd failed to consider something so basic. And if there was truth in it, he had indeed forced Frank into this. Perversely, Joe also felt hurt his brother hadn't thought having him was worth risking damnation. Stupid. He didn't think it would come to that – couldn't imagine such a punishment for being in love. But if he were wrong, he'd still consider it worth the risk.

Nice to know where he rated with Frank. Below damnation, but above saying no and hurting Joe. Then again, maybe he was flattering himself. Frank's brain might have simply shut down under the hormonal surge and by the time it had cleared the 'should they or shouldn't they' question had become a moot point.

His scowl shifted to the part of the ceiling that also served as the floor to Frank's room. Joe should go up there and beat the crap out of him for being an insensitive moron. Problem was the sight of Frank tended to prompt him into the love side of the love or war equation.

Nasty brain conflict. Needed to figure it out before his own hormones started mooting points. A pity neither ceiling nor empty carton contained the wisdom of the ages. 'Guess I'm on my own. A comforting thought since I've done so well up to now.'

Okay, the choices were obvious -- stay lovers who were brothers or just be brothers. Joe couldn't imagine going back to the way things were. And was there any reason to do so? If God or society wanted to punish them for what they'd done, he doubted either would be very impressed with them changing their minds – 'Oops, we only did it in the heat of the moment. Okay, the heat of twenty separate moments. Give or take a moment or twelve.'

Nope, no absolution in sight there. Nor did Joe think there was much of a chance he could keep his hands off of Frank. And he'd absolutely kill Frank if Frank managed to not touch him.

No, the way Joe saw it, forward was their only option. So how did he get Frank to think the same way? Give him space and time to think? Sounded like one heck of a bad idea to Joe. Pounce on him at every opportunity until the idiot figured out he couldn't do without Joe and lightened up? It had worked in the shower that first day.

Experience and hormones in total agreement, Joe set aside the carton, then headed upstairs to put his plan into action.

By day five Frank sensed a pattern. He would come out of a sated stupor long enough to consider the possibility that someone needed to start making plans, and Joe would fuck him through the mattress. Or the floor. Or the sofa. Or the table. Or the stairwell.

'Or the pantry' joined the list Friday afternoon.

Possible trouble in this odd paradise whispered through Frank's thoughts as he lay on the tiled floor, his knees up around his ears, his head doing its best to have a close encounter with a can of baked beans while Joe pounded into him. Well, maybe not precisely at that moment, but the shortness of the afterglow proved an enlightening experience.

Joe came, kissed him, then left him lying on the floor. Not exactly the height of romance. It occurred to Frank, they were fucking longer and harder, but talking less. Not a good thing.

Frank sat up and buttoned his shirt. Joe normally pampered him when Frank was upset or hurt. A fast exit didn't fit, and Frank had the uncomfortable feeling he'd missed some thing. Some thing along the lines of his brother thinking Frank was taking him for granted. Or worse, all his free-floating anxiety over the lack of a plan might have convinced Joe he'd never be comfortable with this change in their relationship.

'Frank Hardy you are a jerk and a moron.' It had been so easy to absolve himself of all responsibility and let Joe make all the decisions. All fine and good when Frank had a raging fever or a broken bone, but he couldn't expect Joe to decide the course of their lives alone. Especially a course involving incest and deceiving everyone they knew and loved. Yes, a plan was needed. Maybe it was time *Frank* thought of one. 'Such brilliance,' he sneered at himself. 'No wonder Joe worships the ground I walk on.'

He got up and pulled on his jeans. Joe liked to think he knew what was best for Frank – in some respects it was even true – but Frank knew a lot of his own complacency boiled down to respecting the fact Joe needed Frank to need him. Frank did, of course, but craving love and attention had never meant taking advantage of Joe or ignoring Joe's needs. Until now.

Well, he could fix that. Frank walked into the front room and found his brother watching the latest in a series of rentals. "Joe?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

His brother stiffened, a neat trick given the way he was sprawled on the sofa, and his face shifted into an alarmingly neutral expression.

Frank frowned, puzzled for a moment. Oh. Joe thought he was going to end things. "Don't jump to conclusions, little brother," he chided him with a gentle smile. "The only thing I want to end is the impression I'm not glad you seduced me."

"Are you? Glad?"

He leaned against the door jam and smiled again. "Very. I think you saved my sanity. I know I couldn't have gone on the way I was for much longer."

"Thought so."

"You always have known what's best for me." He walked over to Joe, then knelt on the floor beside him. "Sorry I forgot my part in the bargain."

"What's that?" Joe asked as Frank took his hand.

"Knowing what's best for you." He kissed the back of Joe's hand.

"What is best for me, Frank?"

"I think it's us together. In every way. Or course, I'm prejudice."

"That's okay. I am, too." Joe used their joined hands to urge Frank up onto the sofa, then snuggled up against his older brother. "What do we do now? Shack up in some dorm room?"

"I really don't want to leave Bayport."

"Good."

Frank would have laughed if he didn't know full well if he'd said he wanted to catch the next plane out of town, Joe would have gone with him without a complaint. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"We need to make plans. Together."

"Meaning no humoring the older brother?"

"Pretty much."

"Gotcha. Along those lines, I don't want to go back to sleeping alone."

"We could get a place of our own." They could afford one easily enough. Their father had paid them a salary masquerading as an allowance for years.

"Yeah." Joe's face brightened. "But not too far away. I want laundry and pantry privileges."

Frank blushed, wondering if he'd ever be able to look at another can of baked beans without turning bright red. "If you can pull yourself away from your video marathon, we could go looking this afternoon."

"What? Miss watching 'Return of the Jedi' for the two thousandth time?"

"Sometimes I really worry about you," Frank said getting up and pulling Joe after him.

"Good. I always worry about you."

Frank smiled. "No need." He drew his brother into a long, gentle kiss. When their lips parted, he said, "You always take good care of me."

Joe hugged him tightly, then grinned. "Race you to the van, good looking," he announced already running for the door.

"Hey, that's cheating!" Frank protested charging after his brother while his lips tingled from his lover's kiss.

The End

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