Fundraisers pt. 1/2
Title: Fundraisers
Author: 2he_re (Heather and Reena)
Fandom: Jonas Brothers
Pairing(s): Kevin/Frankie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, the real people in it are used without their permission and we do not own them or have any copyright to any part of any of them. We do not believe any of this happened, is likely to happen, or will happen. It is simply a story created around known facts about those involved.
Summary: Frankie asked him to donate clothes.
Part 1 Part 2
~*~
Kevin yawns, brushing his hand over his eyes. The door bell rings again, and he grumbles. Joe screams something up from the basement about who is it. Kevin yawns again, not yelling back, because if Joe cares, he can come see for himself who’s at the door. Another yawn, and Kevin hopes he doesn’t look too un-presentable. He only rolled out of bed minutes before. He runs a hasty hand through his hair, before looking through the peephole.
His eyes widen in shock of who’s there, a little kid and a mom. Denise Jonas, Kevin recognizes, from the Home and School Board Association. Isn’t she a little old to have a kid looking that young? Nevertheless, Kevin opens the door with a smile, greeting Denise. “What can I do for you?” he asks.
“Hello,” the little kid says, and Denise smiles. Kevin shrugs, looking down at the little chubby boy.
“Hey, yourself.”
“My name is Frankie. I’m six,” Frankie says slowly and deliberately. He’s too adorable. Kevin nods with a smile as Frankie’s face scrunches up to remember exactly what he planned on saying. “And I am collecting for church.”
“Yes?”
Frankie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”
“Clothes,” Denise chimes in as Frankie glows at having spoken so well. “We’re having a clothing drive for the church, really anything you can donate would be great.”
Kevin scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, I don’t think…”
“And if I get the most, I get a prize!” Frankie announces.
Kevin can’t help but grin at that, while Denise gives her child one of those parental looks. He feels bad then for even thinking about saying no. The kid’s too sweet. He couldn’t let that smiling face down. “Yeah, um, are you getting things now?”
Denise nods. “We came around the neighborhood a little last minute. Mr. Marks, is it?”
Kevin extends his hand. “Please, Kevin, Mrs. Jonas.”
“Denise to you then,” Denise replies, shaking the offered hand.
Kevin crouches down and looks Frankie in his brown eyes. “I’m Kevin,” he says.
Frankie scrunches up his face. “I’m Frankie.”
Kevin sticks out his hand, and the little kid looks wearily at it. His mother nudges him from behind, and Frankie shakes it. “This is my mom,” Frankie says, feeling awkward to have such attention on him from someone he doesn’t know.
Kevin gives him an award winning smile, and Frankie doesn’t feel so weird anymore. “She’s very nice.” Kevin straightens up and steps back. “Well then, if you’d like to come in? I can go grab some stuff as you wait.”
Denise nods and ushers Frankie inside, who gives her a wide-eyed look, saying, “I thought you don’t go into stranger’s homes.”
Denise cracks a smile. “Kevin isn’t really a stranger. And you’re with Mommy, so it’s okay. But you’re right, stranger’s houses are bad.”
Kevin goes off, leaving the two to stand in the entrance hall. He knocks by Joe’s door. “Have any clothes to donate?” he asks.
“Nah,” Joe says. Kevin rolls his eyes. Then it’s up to him to find at least something for the little kid. He goes through his closet quickly, before pulling out three shirts that he got for Christmas that don’t quite fit his taste, two pairs of pants that don’t fit, and a t-shirt that might be considered a little too ratty and tatty, but it’s better than nothing. It makes his bundle of clothes feel heavier.
He dashes downstairs to pull out trash-bag. He dunks the clothes easily inside and ties it up. He goes back to the front door where Denise and Frankie are having an animated conversation, mostly on Frankie’s part than Denise’s, who has fallen into the role of nodding in all the right places.
He clears his throat, at which Frankie looks up with a big grin on his face. He reaches hands out for the bag, and Kevin gives it to him.
“What do you say?” Denise asks Frankie, who spits out a very enthusiastic, “Thank you!”
“No problem,” Kevin replies. Denise nods her thanks, and Frankie all put skips out the front door. “Anytime,” Kevin says, watching the mother try to guide her adorable kid. In the background he sees a teen with his arms crossed. Kevin didn’t know they had kids other than Joe that age in the neighborhood. He should probably make more of a point to go to the Home Owner’s Association, even if they ended up being more gossip than anything else.
~*~
Kevin’s finishing up the dishes in the kitchen by hand. A much easier job than previous years, considering it’s only him living in the house now. Joe headed off to college, hopefully to grab an education and not party all day long. Dad’s off on another business trip so the house is his, yet again, for almost a month.
The doorbell rings and Kevin sets the last dish on the counter to dry. “Coming,” he yells towards the front. He should probably look at getting a dishwasher, he muses, after he fixes the leaks and puts in a new washer and drier. He hurries through the dining room to the entrance hall, wiping his hands on his pants before opening the door.
“What can I do for you?” he asks. His eyes sweep over the two figures, standing again at his doorstep. He grins as he recognizes them from two years ago. Frankie, the little munchkin, and Denise, his mom. Frankie’s eight now, if he recalls right.
“Hi, Mr. Kevin,” Frankie says. Kevin smiles. The kid’s as adorable as the last time. The added two years probably making him even more so. “I’m going on a school trip. Would you like to buy some candy to help?” Denise smiles, but this time, says nothing.
Kevin crouches down in front of the little boy. “What kind of candy?”
Frankie’s face lights up. “Lots!” Kevin chuckles. “We have Reese’s and Skittles and Hershey and Dove and Swedish Fish and Gummy Bears.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Milk Chocolate Hershey,” Frankie replies without even having to think about it. Kevin can almost see Denise’s eyes roll.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“It’s yummy and smooth and good.”
Kevin straightens back up, looking the little kid right in the eyes. “Okay, I’ll take four of those. How much?”
“They’re two dollars each. Two plus two plus two plus two is eight. Eight dollars, Mr. Kevin.”
“Make it an even ten dollars.”
“So five bars?” Frankie asks.
Kevin nods and steps back into the house. “Yeah, sounds good. You can come in, just let me grab my wallet.”
Frankie and Denise step inside, and Kevin heads off to find his wallet. When he in comes back, after making sure he had ten dollars inside, he hears Frankie’s voice. “The house’s so big!” Kevin hears Denise trying to shush her son. “Does he own it all? I’ve only ever seen him.” Kevin blushes. His dad has been pretty successful in the music managing field, so the house is impressive, but none less so than anyone else’s in the neighborhood. There’s just less… stuff in it, people and everything.
“Hey, here you go,” Kevin says, reappearing.
The little kid takes the smooth ten dollar bill. “Wow, thanks. Okay, now you wait and I’ll get the chocolate.”
Kevin laughs, waving off the boy. “You can have it for yourself.”
Frankie’s brown eyes widen. “Really?”
Kevin nods. “Yeah, it’s too much to eat for someone like me.”
Frankie lights up. “Thanks!”
“No problem. I like supporting good causes.” Kevin waves away Frankie and Denise, who he knows a little better now because of the Home Owner’s Association. He shuts the door and turns back inside the big house. Yeah, so maybe it is like he owns the whole thing. He is working to help pay for the loans they have on it, because Dad forgets more often than naught to send the money.
~*~
There’s a knock on the door, startling Kevin. The little golden retriever he rescued a while ago starts barking wildly. He skids around the hardwood floor, happily running towards the door. Kevin groans, setting the ice cream gallon back down. “Coco,” he groans. He never got this excitable when he had the doorbell, but then again, Kevin doesn’t even know if Coco was with him before the storm knocked it out. Long time ago. Long time no visitors. There’s the knock again, and there’s Coco’s insane yapping.
Kevin huffs. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He flings open the door to a new face. Coco hurtles out. Kevin groans; he hasn’t had any visitors with him before. He did not know he would act this way. “Coco,” he says as the little golden retriever skates back around to the preteen, all but jumping on the poor boy. “Coco, get down,” he commands the dog halfheartedly, seeing as the kid doesn’t seem to mind the ball of hyper-active fur. Quite the opposite, he’s laughing, looking pleased.
Then he says, “Elvis!”
Kevin freezes, and Coco licks the stranger’s face. “Elvis?” Kevin asks, becoming sick to his stomach.
“I’m so glad you’re the one who rescued him!”
Great, so he is the guy who rescued the dog from down the street. “Yeah, well, I’ve been wanting a dog. Seemed best to rescue.”
“Good choice, Elvis is awesome.” Yeah, Kevin scratches the back of his neck. So Coco had a name before Kevin rescued him, good call on the pound’s part for not telling him. Poor pup, probably all confused for a while. New home, near old home, with a new name. The kid then makes a face, his hand scratching the exact part on the dog’s head that he seems to love so much. “We didn’t have enough time to keep up with him, what with Nick out of the house and Mom working a full job. So happy it’s you though, you know?”
Kevin nods. “Me too, he’s a good dog.”
“He’ll be good to you. You looked lonely.” Kevin gives a chuckle. Since when did he look lonely, since when has the kid ever seen him? “Thanks for the chocolate bars, too. Never got to properly say thank you. Idea of sugar rush kept away my manners.”
Kevin furrows his eyebrows. Sugar rush? Chocolate bars? Ah, so that’s who this is. Frankie. “How old are you now?”
“Twelve.”
“How was the class trip?”
Frankie gives a chuckle, still intent on the dog he hasn’t seen in almost a year. “Honestly, don’t remember it. Mom probably has pictures somewhere. I remember you giving me the chocolate though. I stashed it away where Mom couldn’t find it,” Frankie admits guiltily.
The confession makes Kevin grin. “Yeah well, what do you have today?”
Frankie looks up at him with a grin. “Guitar club. We’re working on buying some of our own recording equipment.”
“You any good?” Kevin watches idly as Elvis shuffles away from Frankie and starts to sniff across the yard. He doesn’t have his electric collar on and will go shooting after the next car that rumbles by. Good thing they don’t have much traffic in the neighborhood.
“Not too bad,” Frankie’s watching the dog too. He missed him. “I like the piano more. But they don’t have a club at school for that, you know?” Frankie turns around with a sparkle in his eye. “So I work with what I’ve got.”
“Smart kid.”
“Yeah, I try.”
“Isn’t your brother a brainiac?” Kevin asks, recalling some of the latest gossip from around the Home Owner’s Association. He’s heard a lot about Nick, not so much about Frankie. He doesn’t really have to wonder why. The older kid quizzed right through high school in all APs, full ride to almost any college of his choice, and makes pretty fair music, one or two CDs out. Lot for Frankie to live up to.
Frankie makes a face. “Yeah.”
“Okay, well, what’s your fundraiser?”
Frankie reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a form for buying food. “Here.”
Kevin gives it a strange look. He does not feel like looking through that for something to buy. But he shrugs. “Want to come in while I have a look at that?” Frankie nods and turns back to Elvis. He gives a whistle, calling the dog’s name, and into the house shoots the puppy. Kevin shakes his head. Now why won’t Elvis ever listen to him? “Alright, come on. Into the kitchen.”
Frankie follows Kevin into the kitchen, where the ice cream has started to melt. “Take a seat,” Kevin says, motioning to the floating island, chairs accompanying it. “Anything you recommend in there?”
Frankie shrugs, watching Kevin pull down three big bowls and start doling out the gallon of ice cream. “The pies are really good.”
“How much are those?”
“Um…” Frankie flips through the order form. “Cheapest is about twenty-five.”
“Not cheapest?”
“Most expensive is fifty.”
“Fifty?! What do I get for fifty?”
“It’s expensive because it’s a school fundraiser,” Frankie huffs, as if he expected Kevin’s reaction at the price.
“Well what is it?”
”It’s their Triple-Chocolate-Threat Mud Pie. It looks really good, lots of chocolate on it in the picture.”
“Hmm.” Kevin moves back over with two bowls filled over the top with vanilla ice cream. He sets one down in front of Frankie, and the other on the floor for Elvis. The dog attacks it.
Frankie gives him a strange look, before saying, “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Kevin grabs his own dish and slides onto the barstool next to Frankie. “Okay, so I want ten of these.”
“Ten?”
“Yeah, Dad’s having a dinner party back here for his new cliental. It gives me an excuse to buy junky food that looks good but none of them will eat anyway. I get all the leftovers. Hmm, how about four of these?”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, and this and this, and about seven of these,” Kevin goes along, pointing in the catalogue, which Frankie circles and marks a quantity number next to. “Right, sounds good.”
“Okay. I’ll add this all up, give me a second.”
Kevin makes a confirmation noise as he grabs Elvis’s bowl off the floor and sticks it in the dishwasher. He got it two years ago, quite proud of the new addition to the house. He takes Frankie’s and his cleaned out bowls to the dishwasher, too. He really loves his dishwasher, even if it sometimes leaves soap on the dishes. He goes to find his chequebook as Frankie continues to add everything up. Kevin mentally winces at the amount it must be, but then remembers Dad forked over his account into both of their names so that Kevin can look after his brother and the house while Dad looks over work.
When Kevin goes back into the kitchen, Frankie still hasn’t finished adding everything up. So Kevin heads down to the basement, running his hand over his dusty amp and old electric guitar. So maybe piano’s Frankie’s favorite, but Kevin doesn’t use either of these music pieces anymore, besides they’re old. Dad would be mortified to hear he still uses the old additions. So Kevin settles the guitar over his shoulder and pulls the medium sized amp up to the kitchen. Frankie looks up with big eyes.
“Finished yet?” Kevin asks. Frankie nods, too afraid to even say the high price aloud, so Kevin lumbers over to look at it. Well, it’s a lot smaller than he thought it would be. He gives a chuckle at Frankie’s awe of the price. “Do you still get prizes if you sell the most?”
“What?”
“When you had that church fundraiser. You said if you got the most clothes donated you get a prize.”
Frankie gives a weak laugh. “No, not this time, just better equipment the more we sell.”
“Alright, well, sounds good. You can take these too,” Kevin says, gesturing to the amp where he’s placed the guitar. “I don’t use them anymore. They’re not the best, but eh, they still work.”
“You play?”
“Dad’s in the music business.”
“Wow.”
“It’s interesting.” Kevin writes out the cheque and rips it off to Frankie, who takes it. They’ll drop off the shipment to his house when it comes in, around nine in the morning. Kevin says he won’t be home, and to set it around back. “Well, good luck then.”
“Thanks Mr. Kevin.”
Kevin holds Elvis as the two of them watch the kid lug away the amp and new guitar. Kevin wonders if maybe they’ll play a concert he could go to. He always goes to Joe’s, who still plays when he finds the freetime. Maybe he should tell Denise about how good her younger son is the next time they meet. Frankie doesn’t get all the recognition he bets the little fellow deserves. Oh, and he needs to fix the doorbell.
~*~
Kevin finishes walking Elvis - no longer Coco since Frankie came to his house three years ago - around the block. He starts up the front steps with the panting dog, when all of a sudden, Elvis starts barking. He lunges forward on the leash and drags Kevin a few steps along. Kevin demands the dog to calm down, but when has Elvis ever listened to him?
“Elvis!”
Kevin looks up in surprise to the porch. There’s Frankie standing there with a big grin on his face. Kevin lets go of the leash and Elvis bounds up to the teen. He all but tackles the boy, licking his face as Frankie laughs, rubbing his hands down Elvis’s yellow flank.
“How’s it going?” Kevin asks as he steps up to the front door.
Frankie bats a persistent Elvis back down to his four feet. “New fundraiser.”
“For what this time? Guitar club?”
“I’m in the Spanish class. We’re heading on a trip to Costa Rico. Do you know Spanish?”
Kevin laughs. “Not a lick of it. I took French. So what’s the fundraiser?”
“Raffle tickets.”
“Sounds cool, how much?”
“Cincuenta.”
Kevin gives a laugh, popping open the door and motioning the boy inside. “In English, please.”
“Fifty dollars.” Kevin blinks. That’s a lot. He could get away with spending so much on the last one because he bought under the excuse of his dad’s party. “But, you win about two thousand dollars for different local restaurants as the grand prize.” Kevin sighs, he’ll have to buy at least a ticket. He’s done so in the past, and the kid’s good, if not better than his brother in Kevin’s mind, who already graduated college and headed into the music field. Kevin’s dad actually has thoughts about signing the kid.
Kevin pushes open the door, already unlocked, and enters in. Frankie follows Kevin to the kitchen again, the dog trailing behind them, panting from his walk and recent excitement. “Who’s party was it?” Frankie asks, looking around at the balloons Kevin neglected to pick up before going out.
“Mine.” Kevin notices Frankie glancing at the balloon still able to hover inches off the ground. A thirty is brightly written on it with a sharpie, courtesy of the little ones. At the moment, Kevin’s double the age of Frankie. “My baby brother had his wife and their little six and four year old over.”
“No one else?”
Kevin gives a weary grin. “It’s enough to try to entertain the little ones and Elvis. Sit.” Kevin goes off to find his chequebook.
Frankie sits in the same chair he sat at three years ago and looks around the room. He wonders if Kevin decorated it for himself or if his brother’s family did. There’s still a glass half filled with wine on the table. Frankie can smell it from where he sits. It’s only a few inches away. He reaches forward. He wonders what it tastes like. His mom doesn’t let him go to the parties that kids at school throw. He swishes it around a little, like he’s seen adults do. He goes to a lot of the functions his brother does. He sniffs it, and it smells good, intoxicating. He takes a sip.
“So can you -“ Frankie freezes. Kevin chokes down whatever he was going to say. There’s a pause, broken only by Elvis’s panting. Kevin gives a laugh, trying to get rid of all the awkwardness in the air. “Aren’t you afraid I could have mono?” Frankie hurriedly sets the glass, Kevin’s glass, down.
“What’s mono?”
Kevin raises his eyebrows, surprised Frankie doesn’t know. “Kissing disease.”
Frankie blushes. “Sorry,” he says.
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure you are. Same thing my brother said to me, and what I said to my dad.”
“I -“
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mother,” Kevin says, winking at Frankie. “Our little secret.”
Frankie smiles back, swallowing. “Okay, so tickets?”
Kevin nods. He holds up his chequebook. “You say one phrase to me in Spanish, and the number of words is the number of ticket’s I’ll buy. Sounds good?”
“Quiero joderte.”
Kevin raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?” Frankie shakes his head in confirmation. “Okay, so how many words was that? It seemed kind of short.”
“Two.”
“You could’ve given me a longer phrase. Don’t hold back because I caught you drinking.” Frankie ducks his head in a blush. Kevin shrugs. “Okay, who do I make the cheque too?” Frankie gives him the information, and Kevin scribbles out the cheque for a hundred dollars. He kind of wishes it is more.
“Thanks,” Frankie says. He rips off two ticket stubs to give to Kevin, saying he’ll call if Kevin wins. He gives a worn-out Elvis a pat on the head and starts to leave.
“Wait,” Kevin says. Frankie’s heart jumps as he turns around. “What did you say, in Spanish?” Frankie hides a smile. Kevin gains a knowing look. “Something your mother wouldn’t deem appropriate.”
Frankie can’t help his grin. “Probably.”
“Good to know I’m helping you with worthwhile words. How did the guitar club work out?”
Frankie forces a smile. “Good. It’s for junior high though. I’m high school, so I’m not in it anymore.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks for everything.” Frankie sticks his hands into his pockets and goes back home, only a few houses down.
If Kevin hadn’t given away his guitar, he thinks he would’ve invited Frankie to play. No, he needs a piano in his house, no, his father’s house. A baby grand. The people who always come for the parties his dad throws always ask why there seems to be a lack of musical décor. Joe plays piano, too, wants the kids to learn. So the piano wouldn’t be wasted, collecting dust for looks. A Steinway grand, actually. They’re more majestic. He should probably stop going to the Home Owner’s Association too; it’s skewing his ideas of Frankie.
~*~