Canaries In The Mines

Chapter One

A/N: There is something seriously wrong with me. That is all I have to say in defense of this. Also, I nicked the title from Talking In Code by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's, but there is also a great Joe/Nick fic out there on LJ of the same name. We have no relation, but it's awesome, you should read it. EDIT (5/21/10)- Uhhhh, so I changed the name because I still felt uncomfortable using the same name as the aforementioned fic. So- about the title. Canaries were used in coal mines in ye olden days to detect toxic gases. They'd drop dead and lo and behold, the miners would know to get the heck out. I particularly like the idea because of this quote, found on some website- "The actual canary in a coal mine had little control over its fate, but it continued to sing anyway."

Warnings: Het, Slash, Incest, Underage Alcohol Consumption, Naughty Language

Disclaimer(s): Mega crossover. All characters belong to their respective shows. For those of you who don't know what shows they are, that would be Hannah Montana, Wizards of Waverly Place, JONAS, I'm In The Band, and Big Time Rush. All of which belong to Disney, with the exception of BTR, which is all Nickelodeon.

"I was thinking of coming to visit."

Static. Silence.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, after the tour's done. I mean, Lilly says that your place is so dirty I'll probably contract ebola-"

"How is Lilly?"

A laugh.

"Crazy. You know, same old. She told me her new professors are way harsh, and- sweet niblets. I'm sorry, Oliver. I've got to go. I'll call you soon?"

"Sure thing. Keep in touch."

"I will. Smooches!"

She hung up first. She always hung up first.

The thing about being in love with an idol is that it destroys all the standards a teenage boy should have. When you end up wanting a girl who's so close to perfect she might as well be part fantasy creature, like an elf from Lord of the Rings, it kind of puts normal girls out of the running.

Not that he saw many normal girls anymore. Fame did that to a person; it tore away everything he'd ever taken for granted. Even before Oliver's voice had gotten him on the radio, fame had pretty much fucked with his life.

"Was that her?" a voice from the couch piped up, followed by a head.

"Yeah."

The guy the head belonged to pursed his lips and said, "Ohhh. Ouch."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"She totally blew you off."

"She had to go sing to the entire state of Delaware."

"Yeah, but," the guy, Tripp, bit his lip and said, "Delaware's not a very big state. I bet they could have waited for like, two seconds."

"Size has nothing to do with patience, Tripp."

"Whatever you say, Ollie," Tripp made a whistling noise, and ducked back down to watch TV, "Whatever you say."

"Man, leave him alone," another voice came from the couch. Oliver strode over so he could see Justin face to face. The kid was pathetic. He'd been watching TV for days.

"Thanks, Russo."

"No problem, Oken," Justin shrugged his shoulders, which seemed kind of difficult considering how his head was precariously balanced on Tripp's thigh.

"Do you guys ever plan on going outside? You know, seeing the sunlight?"

"No," both boys chorused.

This was the problem with roommates. They were so damned moody.

"Vampires are in this season," Justin added, like he really cared what was trendy. Like he wouldn't have been hiding out on their hole-filled sofa if say, surfer boys were in.

"Have you seen Kendall or Joe?"

There was a fashion show on; rail thin models with flat eyes that lit with a ravenous hunger only when they reached the end of the runway and deemed to look at the audience, like they were zombies about to pounce for brains. Then they reeled the look back in, shackled the craving inside, and stalked away, dead again.

"No," the guys replied, in unison, again. It was like they were related. They even watched the screen the same way, searching, hungry, just like the models. Only it wasn't the stringy haired waifs they were watching.

It was the crowd.

Oliver couldn't take another minute of it. Pocketing his cell and grabbing his lucky hat, he told his roommates that he was going to go out. They barely acknowledged him, too busy scouring the shapeless mass surrounding the runway for two glossy heads of dark hair.

If someone had asked Oliver why he'd decided to move in with four of the most depressed guys on the planet, he would've said it seemed like a good idea at the time. They were all broken. Every one of them. Broken and famous, or in Justin's case, related to someone famous. They just needed to be understood. They needed each other to understand.

He met Joe and Kendall on the stairs, carrying brown paper grocery bags, the kind most people had stopped using in favor of 'going green'. They were incognito, which for Joe meant a pair of oversized sunglasses he could've snatched from a five year old and for Kendall meant a ratty gray hat that he'd probably filched off a hobo. They might've been rockstars, but they were kleptos, too.

"Where are you off to?" Kendall grinned, blowing his bangs out of his eyes while carefully balancing three bags in his arms.

"I was going to take a walk. That okay with you, dad?"

Kendall shrugged, "Long as you're home in time for dinner. Joe's cooking."

"I am not!" Joe squawked.

"You lost the bet."

"It was a dumb bet."

"It was still a bet," Kendall shrugged apologetically, but not really, "You make the best pasta anyway."

A girl shuffled by on her way to the fourth floor, iPod screaming in her ears. They stiffened, all three of them. Even Oliver. Listening to see whose voice would come haunt them, across the country, across the airwaves.

Nobody's, it turned out. She was a metal fan.

Joe's shoulders relaxed. The furrow in Kendall's brow eased. Oliver wasn't sure what tense habit fled him, but something had. He always winced away from radios, and he always felt better once they were gone.

"I'll be back in time for dinner," Oliver promised, taking the steps, two at a time, away from his friends.

They were all so fucking damaged.

Central Park right before the blush of spring was kind of incredibly obnoxious. Flowers were blooming left and right, and it was like young lovers viewed them as a signal to get busy in plain sight. On street corners and wrought iron benches, in boats and lying intertwined on the grass.

Oliver liked to take this one rambling path over to these mounds of rocks that bordered the filthy excuse for a river or a pond or whatever it was New Yorkers liked to call the scum coated body of water that cut through the middle of their man made paradise. He wasn't really a nature guy, unless that nature was sand between his toes and the scent of sea salt clinging to his skin, but sometimes the Park was the only place to escape.

A few years back, he'd been able to walk main streets in California without anyone saying a thing, but now it was hard not to get ambushed by screaming girls, no matter where in the US he went. When he was sixteen, he would've thought something like that was a miracle.

When he was sixteen, he was an idiot.

His cell buzzed a nothing tune; he'd given up having songs as ringtones the first time he'd heard one of his own playing on a strange girl's phone. He wasn't sure if he'd stopped because it felt arrogant, or because he'd been half tempted to make a Hannah Montana tone.

"Hello?"

"Ohmigosh did she tell you? She totally told you, I knew she would!" Lilly squealed thousands of miles away from her dorm room at Berkeley with nary a greeting in sight.

"Who told me what, Lil?"

"Miley, doofus! She texted me that she told you she was going to come visit that trash heap you call an apartment!"

"She might have mentioned it," Oliver replied distantly, staring at a couple in a wooden boat sail by.

"You could sound a little more excited. Haven't you wanted her to visit for like, ever?"

"No," his voice cracked a little, "No. That's stupid. I haven't even lived here forever."

Actually, he was excited. But he wasn't going to tell Lilly that. He wasn't comfortable telling Lilly that, even if she knew exactly how he felt about Miley. They'd dated for practically a year and a half, and even if Lilly liked to pretend it had never happened, even if she liked to barrel right past the awkwardness with all the grace of a rabid bulldog, Oliver didn't know how. He knew he was supposed to be able to go back to being BFFs since kindergarten, but how was it possible? How could they go back to that with everything that had happened? When they'd been each other's first, when they'd seen each other naked? When Lilly had found out that Oliver was still harboring an ancient crush on Miley Stewart?

"Your face is stupid," Lilly laughed and began babbling about all the things he had to take Miley to do when she came to New York. If she even really came.

"Lilly, you do know she's been here before, right?"

"Of course I know that. But it's going to be different with you, Oliver. She's never been there with someone she loves."

"She doesn't love me," Oliver's voice was scratchy and wounded.

It got quiet on Lilly's end, except for the sound of her bitch of a roommate wailing along to her iPod. It sounded like a James Diamond ballad. Of course.

"You know what? I've got a ton of homework for that psych course I'm taking. You wouldn't believe the size of my textbook. It's like, bigger than your head."

"Yeah. You should- uh, do that."

"And you should probably get over your denial. Miley's into you. I can tell."

Oliver wanted to ask Lilly how she knew, how she could tell anything about either of them when they barely saw each other anymore. It had been nearly six months since she'd come to visit him in the city, and at least two since she'd been to one of Miley's concerts. The only things Lilly had of them anymore were their voices, on the phone, on the radio. Maybe their faces on billboards. All Oliver had of her was memories of her lips and her citrus shampoo, and the way she'd smiled all secret-like the first night they- he didn't like to think about it. It felt like a betrayal, only he wasn't sure to who.

"Okay."

"Okay," Lilly breathed, and Oliver wondered if she'd started seeing anyone. If she gave that secret smile to another boy, who wouldn't sing her love songs but would love her like she was the only girl in the entire world worth loving, "Bye."

"Bye."

Oliver sat in Central Park for a very long time.

When Oliver described himself, he didn't like to say he was the kind of guy who ran away from things. Because he wasn't, not really. Oliver Oken hadn't been raised to run from anything. He'd been raised to be brave, to be his mother's little solider, to be the best big brother in the entire world.

He was sixteen when he first went on tour, a fun summer thing that wasn't supposed to lead anywhere, but did. A big shot record producer spotted him during his opening act, and between the coverage he'd gotten from that dumb reality singing show combined with the support he'd garnered from a famous benefactor who'd guest judged said dumb reality singing show and happened to be one of his best friends in the whole wide world, the producer had gone from wishy washy on Oliver's 'sound' to fully endorsing him, overnight.

Soon enough, Oliver switched opening for that tiny indie rock group to opening for the USA's biggest teen queen. That's when things had gone south.

It had been a publicity stunt. A kiss between the rising pop sensation Oliver Oken and America's sweetheart, Hannah Montana. All planned out and preapproved. Miley had given it the okay because she wanted to help Oliver's career, and even if she wasn't a fan of faking it in the public eye, she would do anything for a friend. Oliver had given it the okay because back then, all he'd wanted was to be famous, and his first single was quick approaching the Top Forty charts. Lilly had even agreed, because it was just a stupid peck on the lips. What harm could it do?

Only, that night, wrapped up in the glitz and glamour of being a superstar, of singing a romantic duet with Hannah, the girl he'd idolized since before he'd even known Miley Stewart was in possession of girl parts, Oliver had let the music run away with his sanity.

When he'd kissed Hannah, everything had gone wrong in split second. He'd known that locking up the ecstatic love he'd had as a thirteen year old boy for a pop idol couldn't have been so simple, and in his mind, Miley and Hannah were one in the same. His feelings weren't for the silhouette of a blonde girl with a killer voice any longer; they were for his friend with her drawl and her gorgeous eyes and her laughter. The moment he'd kissed her, all his thoughts of Lilly Truscott had evaporated, along with his nausea at the wrongness of it all.

After a beat, Miley had ended up shoving him away, because he just couldn't break the kiss.

His single had broken number thirty three less than a week later. He'd moved into the top ten within a month.

And he'd never forgiven himself for it.

With Miley, Oliver had been able to wave the whole thing away. He blamed nerves, and she bought the excuse hook, line, and sinker. Why wouldn't she? Huge stadium concerts could be beyond terrifying, and besides, Oliver barely ever lied. By the time senior prom rolled around, he'd pretty much restored their friendship.

With Lilly, it hadn't been so easy. It wasn't so much that she doubted or blamed him as the guilt gnawing at his insides whenever she talked about it like it had been some hilarious mistake, and not- fate.

He broke up with her a week before graduation. She was going off the Berkeley anyway, while his plans had been put on a backburner for his more pressing national tour. It wasn't like college wouldn't be waiting around when he got home.

A year passed. Then two. Lilly was going to keggers while Miley was signing movie deals. Oliver dropped a second album, and it felt like forever since he'd seen his friends. When spring rolled around and Miley called him with tickets to fashion week and the proposition of a friendly reunion, he'd jumped at the chance. Models weren't his thing, but Lilly was going and Miley was going, and he was desperate to see them again. They all flew to New York on separate planes, but they were going to stay in the same hotel, and it was going to be amazing. It was supposed to be.

Only Miley was wrapped up in her new movie costar like, twenty four seven, and Lilly had a final quick approaching. She used all her free time to study. Oliver spent a lot of time wandering the city, from the Park to Soho, from Times Square to St. Mark's Street. It was so different from LA, from everything he was used to.

The freshest face on the scene of fashion was Alexandra Russo, and Miley and Lilly were dying to check out her new line. They dragged Oliver along, of course.

That was the day he met his roommates.

Alex Russo was Justin's little sister. He'd been sitting in the front row, and when she'd walked out at the end to see how her new line had been received, Oliver had noticed how his face had just- shut down.

The guy next to Justin, Oliver had recognized. Joe Lucas, from that band, JONAS. Not to be confused with the Jonas Brothers, but equally as famous, and with weirdly similar names.

Joe was there with his best friend, Stella Malone, who had her own runway show the following day. He'd met Justin through the friendship that had sprung up between Stella and Alex, and had come along to the show for moral support. Not that Stella knew it; she thought they were supporting Alex's dreams.

Not Justin's habit.

Because Joe and Justin, well, they both had a really bad addiction, the kind of addiction that would have killed Joe's career and gotten both boys disowned. Except it wasn't to drugs or alcohol, or even sex. Joe and Justin were in love with their younger siblings, and in all the world, they'd found each other. That was why Justin's face had darkened at the sight of Alex on stage. That was why Joe changed the channel every time a Nick Lucas single, from his new solo album, played in one of the tents.

Of course, Oliver hadn't known all that back then. He'd just known that the expression on Joe's and Justin's faces was familiar. It was one he saw in the mirror every single day. Unrequited love.

He'd talked to the guys after the show, struck up a friendship. Joe was someone he'd met once or twice before; they ran in the same circles of fame and pop stardom. He was zany, full of ideas and constantly trying to get Justin out of his own head. Justin was quiet and clever, and kind of geeky, which Oliver could appreciate. He was kind of geeky himself.

At some after party, the three of them had run into Kendall Knight and Tripp Campbell. Kendall had met Joe before on the concert circuit, but not Oliver, and Tripp had never laid eyes on either of them. He was heavy metal where they sang pop rock, and the only reason he'd struck up a conversation with Kendall was because of his best friend, Izzy Fuentes. The boyband Kendall had been a part of, Big Time Rush, had dissolved a year prior, but one of the members, James Diamond, had struck it big. He'd churned out an album of John Mayor-esque love songs that had swept the nation, and Izzy was a huge fan, her secret shame. She'd also been a model in Alex's show, which had only used local girls. Tripp was trying to negotiate her an autograph.

Later that night, they'd all gotten to talking. Joe and Justin had already found their en, that one thing that made them comrades in arms. And they saw it in Oliver, in his unrequited love for a girl whose songs crackled over the radio at every subway shop and diner in town. They saw that sameness in Kendall, who'd given up his career to be as far as humanly possible from the one person whose voice made him feel like he could breathe. And they saw it in Tripp, who had gone solo since his days with Iron Weasel, who hit it big while the girl he loved was still just a girl back home.

"I've been thinking of moving out of the city altogether," Justin announced over a glass of bourbon that Oliver could smell even five feet away.

"Why? I thought you loved it here," Joe asked, spinning his own glass between his fingers, "Please don't tell me you want to move to LA."

Justin snorted, "What would I do out there? I was thinking like, Iowa."

"Iowa?" Tripp began to laugh, not very kindly, "You've obviously never been there."

"Well it's not like I can stay here. There's-" Alex, was what he obviously wanted to say, but instead Justin continued, "the rent on my apartment. It's ridiculous. I can't afford it by myself, and the job market here sucks balls, and-"

"You need a roommate, my friend," Kendall slapped him on the back, a peculiar gleam in his eye, "One or two or three or- four?"

Oliver, Joe, and Tripp eyed him warily. Kendall grinned impishly and continued, "I've been looking for a place to stay."

"Seriously?" Justin frowned, "Aren't you like, filthy rich? You could afford your own place."

"Jus-tin," Kendall exhaled, his dimples deepening in the shadowy light of the tent, "I can't live by myself. I might get lonely."

Joe was the first to catch on, his expression growing mischievous, his eyes mirroring Kendall, "Yeah. Dude, that would be terrible. Why do you want him to be lonely, Justin? It could warp his mind and turn him into a serial killer."

"Yeah," Kendall agreed, then paused, then blinked, "Wait- no. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"It could happen, dude," Joe argued, "You think you're just a nice, normal former boy bander and the next thing you know you've got a pig farm in Canada and you're feeding the little oinkers human flesh mixed in with their slop."

"I-" the blond blinked again, looking completely set adrift. Finally, he shook his head and said, "Your mind must be a scary place to live."

Joe tried to look offended, but then thought better of it and grinned, "Occasionally."

"Right, so back to what we were talking about- I can't move in by myself, because then I might get lonely and feed people to pigs. Also, my mother says that if I'm going to just laze around by myself all day, I might as well go back to Minnesota and live with her and my little sister. Have you ever been to Minnesota, Justin? Have you. Don't make me go back."

"I've heard Minnesota is a perfectly nice place-"

"Screw Minnesota. I have a little sister who just turned into a teenager. The hormones, dude. The hormones. Would you really wish that fate on me?"

"Okay. No. But- are you sure you want to move into my place? I mean, no offense, but you don't even know me."

Just then, Alex approached the table. She was gorgeous, bird-boned, and totally off limits. Justin couldn't tear his gaze from her. She smiled and laughed and said all the right things, and completely charmed the entire table. Oliver felt his empathy for poor, poor Justin Russo increase tenfold.

When she left, Kendall gave the boy a pointed look, "Let me move in. You could use the company."

"He's right," Joe agreed, "So right that I think I want in on this."

"Don't you have to go back to LA?" Oliver interrupted, feeling like everything was spinning out of control way too fast. They all had lives. Record deals. Forbidden loves. Could they really afford to drop everything and move into some kid's bachelor pad?

"Band's on hiatus," Joe shrugged, "Nicky's focusing on his solo career, Kevin and Macy are planning their wedding. There's not much left out there for me right now."

Oliver felt the same way, but this was insane.

"I think it's a great idea," Tripp piped in, eyes dark, unreadable, "My recording studio's close by anyway. Count me in."

"Okay, but- problem. My place only has three bedrooms," Justin finally latched on to something, anything to stop the crazy.

"We'll get a bigger place," Joe shrugged, "It's not like we can't afford it."

"I can't afford it," Justin squeaked, "I've got school, and loans, and-"

"You worry too much," Kendall clapped a hand on his shoulder, eyes twinkling. He turned to the rest of them, "Don't you think he worries to much?"

"Absolutely," Tripp said solemnly.

"Lighten up," Joe added.

Justin hung his head in defeat, "Fine. Okay. You guys win."

"Hey, Oliver. We're so over this party," a new voice broke in, and he looked up to see Miley, decked out in Hannah gear, Lilly hovering at her side, "We were going to head back to the hotel, rent a couple of movies. You coming?"

"Uh-" Oliver couldn't get over how she completely stole his breath away, just by being there, just by being so completely beautiful.

"What he means to say is-" Joe smirked, "He'll catch up with you."

"Ah, right. If you say so," Hannah tilted her head, Miley-eyes narrowing, "Are y'all drinking?"

"'Course not," Tripp answered, his expression completely and utterly non-believable, "But if we were, would you ladies want to join us?"

Miley ignored him, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and frowning at Oliver, "Oken, aren't you going to introduce us to your…friends?"

"Right. Sure," he did his part and introduced Hannah and Lilly to Joe, Justin, Tripp, and Kendall. He was actually kind of proud of Lilly; she managed to tamp down her enthusiasm about meeting Joe, Tripp, and Kendall until she evacuated the building, well on into the next day when she demanded Oliver procure their autographs. She enjoyed her famous connections Way Too Much.

"Great," Miley grit out, "Nice to meetcha. Oliver, are you coming?"

"I'm-" Oliver glanced around the table, at these guys, these people that he felt this total kinship with, this completely connection. Then he looked back up to the girl he was in love with, "I'm think I'm going to stay here. I'll catch up with you in a little while."

She seemed put out by his answer, her lips forming a familiar pout. But all she did was cluck her tongue and go, "Alright. Hurry up. You don't want to miss Pretty Woman."

All eyes flew to him and he tittered nervously, "That is my favorite."

She had the most awkward timing ever. If only she wasn't so goddamned cute.

"Pretty Woman?" Kendall asked, after they walked away, "Seriously?"

"She likes it," Oliver replied defensively.

"And you like her. Why don't you tell her?"

"She's one of my best friends," he said softly, "I can't ruin that."

Kendall nodded, like he got it, and out of the corner of his eyes Oliver could see the other guys doing the same. They understood. And maybe they were all cowards, and maybe they were all running away, and maybe Oliver was about to make the worst choice he'd ever made in his life.

"Do you think we can find a place with five rooms?"

He'd made his choice that night, and he hadn't looked back. Living so far away from home was like a godsend. It kept him away from Miley's world, from all the Hollywood glitz and glam he'd dreamt fervently about only a few years ago.

It kept him from making stupid mistakes.

Day by day, he was carving out a life in New York City, and it felt like everything had been going good. Then Miley had to call. She was going to visit, maybe. Maybe…

She was going to turn his world upside down.

A/N: Okay. I think I shall go seek psychiatric help now. But before I go, this is how this is going to work. Two chapters per character- Oliver, Justin, Kendall, Joe, Tripp, repeat. Although not necessarily in that order. Ten chapters altogether. That is the goal. If you would like to review this, that would probably make me very happy. And by very happy I mean it would make me feel less insane for writing this at all.