Falling Through The Night, Rising From The Ashes 1/1 (Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...)
Title: Falling Through The Night, Rising From The Ashes
Genre: Slash
Fandom: Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is... (Guest Appearances from Cobra Starship & Panic! at the Disco)
Main Characters: Kevin Jonas, Mike Carden
Adult Content: Nope
Words: 6374
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Kevin's confession loses him one family, gains him one; he still manages to come out ahead, somehow.
Teaser: Kevin draws a deep, shaky breath. "I love you," he says, and that's when he cracks, when for a few awful seconds that feel like days all he can hear on the other end are these heart-wrenching gaspy sobs. Hopefully he's got someone else driving him, fuck.
The insistent beeping of the alarm makes Kevin want to cry, honestly; the bed's so warm, so comfy, so full of Mike, and instead of time to get up the stupid alarm just makes him think we should have another two hours of this. But Mike has to leave before anyone else is up to see him, and Kevin has to be out of bed and ready to go before Big Rob comes in for his wake-up call so he doesn't see the truly impressive amount of hickeys dotting Kevin's neck, chest, stomach, doesn't see the bruises that look suspiciously like Mike's handprints on his hips.
"Turn that fucking thing off, fuck."
Kevin sighs, sits up enough to figure out how to shut the stupid clock off, debates for just a second about whether an extra two hours of sleepy cuddling is worth getting caught naked in bed with his dirty gay rockstar lover.
Mike growls and curls in on himself when Kevin pulls the blanket down, but he just glares at Kevin instead of trying to pull it back up and go to sleep, so that's a good sign.
"Sorry."
"No you're not, you like watching me suffer."
"We shouldn't have to do this," Kevin says; he says it a lot. Mike doesn't even respond any more - they both know how he feels. He just sits up, nips at Kevin's lower lip, kisses him slow and way dirtier than he should when they don't have time for anything.
"We'll be done by the time you hit Chicago, so we should have some time then, right?" Mike asks, when he finally pulls away to tug yesterday's clothes on so he can make his getaway.
"Yeah," Kevin says, and then, "Sorry."
"Shut up," Mike tells him, kisses him goodbye, and slips out the door so quietly Kevin barely hears it close.
- - - - - -
u stole my shirt
"Does he even fit into your clothes, scrawny?" Bill asks, from over his shoulder.
"Look who's fucking talking. And no, not even a little. Stop reading my messages."
"But your love life's so fascinating." Bill drops onto the couch, sprawling out so he takes up enough space for three of him.
"It's the secrecy. Really adds something special."
"Not that you're bitter, or anything."
"Fuck off." Mike tries to grin, play it off like he's just joking, but he's not exactly an actor and Bill's not stupid.
- - - - - -
"I hate lying to my parents," Kevin says, setting his phone aside and picking up a slice of pizza and dropping into the living room chair that's actually a kitchen chair. Mike just arches his eyebrows. "Don't. And there's a difference between keeping a secret and lying."
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"They think I'm staying with friends, and Mom just texted with some schedule stuff. She hopes I'm having fun catching up."
Mike snorts a little, opens his arm and twitches two fingers come here; Kevin's off his chair and up against him on the couch before either of them can blink. Mike's apartment is so sparse it's hard to tell someone actually lives there, sometimes, except it's messy as Hell, but Kevin's there so rarely he hasn't bothered to complain.
"I'm so - I'm tired."
"Well, we didn't exactly sleep much last night," and Mike's wiggling his eyebrows, leering at Kevin, trying like Hell to lighten the mood. Not really his strong suit.
"Not that kind of tired."
Mike sighs, tightens his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "I know. Maybe your pro and con list needs updating."
"Maybe. It's not - this isn't fair to you, anyway."
"Don't. Because, seriously, we'd be sneaking around even if only one of us was a guy, so don't feel all guilty I have to be the secret boyfriend. I'm fine with it. What's at stake for you is way bigger than me getting a few extra hours of sleep when I come to your hotel, so don't - just don't. I'm good either way, you know that. You do what you have to do, don't do what you can't, and I'm good either way."
The heater kicks on, hums too loudly for three or four seconds before it fades into the background; Kevin gives up pretending he's actually in the mood to eat and leans over Mike to put his slice back in the box. "They'd like you if they knew you."
"Would they get to know me?"
They both know the answer to that; Kevin doesn't bother to say it.
- - - - - -
"I told them."
Kevin's voice sounds broken, he sounds like he's having trouble breathing, like it's taking everything he has not to cry; Mike balls his fists up, digs his fingernails into his skin. Fuck.
"Shit. I - how bad?"
"I'm on my way to the airport."
Fuck. Mike slams his fist into the couch cushion, like he thinks it'll fucking help. "Tell me that's because it got a little intense and you need a few days."
Silence on the other end, too long a pause, and then, "I can stay with you, right?"
"Shit, yeah, of course. Just lemme know when you're gonna land, I'll be there."
Kevin draws a deep, shaky breath. "I love you," he says, and that's when he cracks, when for a few awful seconds that feel like days all he can hear on the other end are these heart-wrenching gaspy sobs. Hopefully he's got someone else driving him, fuck.
"I love you, too," Mike says, when Kevin's sobs die down, when he's back to that barely-controlled shaky breathing, and obviously that was a stupid fucking choice 'cause hearing it gets Kevin crying again. Mike clutches the cushion he'd been slamming his fist into, so tight he rips the fabric a little, and stays on the line until Kevin promises him he'll be okay until he gets to Chicago.
- - - - - -
Kevin's been asleep for eleven hours straight when Bill comes over; Mike slept with him for the first five, lay in bed wide awake and lost in thought for three after that 'cause Kevin was so wrapped around him he couldn't leave. It wasn't till an hour ago he finally called Bill, gave him a brief update, asked him to come over 'cause the silence was killing him.
"Still sleeping?" Bill asks, hands over a grocery bag full of various chocolate ice creams.
"Yeah. I've never seen him look so fucking tired, fuck knows when the last time he really slept was."
Mike stocks the freezer without bothering to make a crack about how he's pretty sure ice-cream-as-band-aid only works in chick flicks; when he turns around Bill's sitting on the counter, head tilted, studying him.
"Jesus, what?"
"You're a softie."
Mike just shrugs, slams the freezer door shut hard enough to make Bill wince.
"Okay, a softie who's gonna break all his appliances."
"I'm a horrible person," Mike says, wanders over to stand between Bill's legs, turns around for a back rub without bothering to ask.
"Right, sure. Why?"
"When he said he told them...he sounded like shit, Jesus, I've never heard him so depressed, but the first fucking thing in my head wasn't about that, I was - it was, like, fuck yeah, look what he did for me, this rocks. He's two seconds away from tears and I'm fucking cheering.
Bill snorts, digs his fingers into the tension in Mike's shoulders. "You're an appliance-breaking softie in love. The Hell are you supposed to do, go blank for a few seconds every time you get big news until you're sure you'll react right? It's only horrible if you kept being happy at the expense of being a softie."
"Stop calling me a softie."
"Stop being one," Bill says, digs his fingers in so hard Mike hisses. "So, I have plenty of room, maybe Kevin should stay with me."
"Uh. Why?"
"You two aren't really at the moving-in-together stage, and I just - if he's gonna go through all this for you two, it'd suck if it got screwed up 'cause he can't handle your toxic socks all over the place, or whatever."
Mike pulls away, stalks over to the fridge to find a beer. He's gonna have to go get groceries, fuck, all he's got is beer and salsa, maybe some chips somewhere.
"On a good day," he says, twists off the cap and straightens up, takes a swig. "His self esteem is about as strong as you are. Like fuck I'm gonna be the one who kicks him out for the second time in two days, what the fuck do you think that would do to him?"
"It's not kicking him out. But okay." Bill slides off the counter, pulls Mike into a hug and jostles him around until he loosens up a little, relaxes into it. "I'm gonna go get you some food and stuff, 'cause I think if his choice is beer or your gross tap water he'll give himself salmonella."
"Yeah," Mike says, leans into Bill until he's let go with a nudge. "I - thanks."
"It's nothing. Want me to rally the troops?"
"Probably. Let me see how he's feeling when he wakes up."
- - - - - -
sent a bunch of ur clothes n shit this morning; tell mike hi. ill work on things here. luv u, man
Mike's standing in the doorway when Kevin sits up to read Joe's text, just leaning against the frame, looking at him.
"Hi," Kevin says, voice rough from sleep, from crying.
"Hey, you." Mike sets a water bottle on the nightstand next to Kevin's phone, slides in next to him and wraps his arms around Kevin's waist. "I was wondering if you were gonna wake up."
"Sorry. I wanted to talk first."
"It's fine, you needed that." Mike ruffles his hair a little, not that it can get much messier right now, then tilts Kevin's chin up, leans in for a slow kiss. "You also need a mint," he pulls back to say, kisses Kevin again when he starts to apologize.
"Joe says hi," Kevin says, lets Mike pull him to lie back down, burrow against the solid warmth of Mike's side. He won't be able to move for a week if he spends any more time lying down, but this bed is pretty much the only good place in the world right now.
"So he's okay with you?"
"I knew he was. He's known...forever, he figured out why my taste in music changed, why I was listening to you guys all the time, before I did, I think. Usually any good idea I had for better sneaking was really his idea."
Mike nods, runs his fingers through Kevin's hair lazily, good enough to make Kevin want to start purring, almost. "And Nick?"
"He - I don't - he's got his - I - " Kevin curls his fingers in Mike's shirt, tenses up against him, breathes in, out, slowly and carefully, tries to keep himself under control. He cried himself sick last night so he could do this starting today, so he could avoid feeling like a stupid kid for crying every ten minutes. "He asked why I had to say anything. 'Cause Dad doesn't - the band, and the show, it's all gonna be messed up, Dad doesn't want me involved anymore, and he - if I didn't say anything, I could be whoever I want, but why did I have to mess everything up."
His eyes are burning; Mike shifts, tugs him in a little closer, stops combing through his hair and wraps both arms around him. "Christ, that's - "
"He'll - he's just - we've all spent our whole lives hearing it's bad. He - he's hating the sin, I think, if he's mad at what I did he doesn't have to worry he's mad about...who I am. So he'll - Joe'll talk to him. He'll be fine."
"Joe spent his whole life hearing it, he's not pulling that shit."
"Joe and Nick look at it a lot differently. Nick's more - I don't know. They're just...different. So I - Mom just cried, Mike, she just - how am I so awful she had to cry that much?"
When Kevin looks up at him, Mike's biting his lip, holding back whatever it is he was going to say. "You're not. You know that."
"I - "
Mike sighs, hugs him even closer. "I know that. So, y'know, go with that until you figure it out for yourself."
- - - - - -
"You need to get that out of here before he sees it."
Butcher and Siska just grin at him, make absolutely no move to get rid of the impossibly tiny kitten Butcher had carried up hidden in his shirt.
"He'll love it."
"I know. I can't have pets in here, so get it out before he sees it and I have to tell him we can't keep it."
"Dude, how often do you really see your landlord?" Siska asks, and instead of taking it back out to the car, defiantly sets his pile of cat supplies down in the middle of the room.
"He looks like he's wearing a little tuxedo, Carden. Don't you have a soul?"
Mike flops down onto the couch, runs his hands through his hair. "How come, when Bill does something nice for us, it actually is something nice, and when you two try, I just end up wanting to punch more things than I did before you came over?"
"Talent," they say, in unison, and Mike buries his face in his hands. Fuckers. Awesome fuckers, but still.
Kevin comes in with Chinese, then, stops dead in his tracks without even closing the door. "Oh. My. Gosh."
"Shit," Mike mumbles into his hands, at the same time Butcher and Siska holler "Surprise!" so loudly they probably terrified the shit out of that poor kitten.
When Kevin lets out this noise Mike refuses to think of as a squeal, because he is not dating a guy who squeals (he might be dating a guy who wears heels and takes longer in the bathroom than anyone he's ever met, but squealing crosses a fucking line), he looks up in time to see Kevin giving one of those ridiculously dopey Kevin-smiles to Siska along with the best hug ever. The Chinese and the open door have, apparently, been completely forgotten, so Mike gets up to take care of those while Kevin distributes hugs and squealy noises and, most importantly, smiles.
"I'm naming him Mike Jr.," Kevin calls, while Mike's filling his plate with delicious, delicious carbs.
"I'll gut you."
Butcher and Siska look so fucking smug right now, but since Kevin's curled up on the couch wiggling his fingers for the kitten and smiling so fucking big it looks like the top of his head might fall off - a big fucking deal, small as his mouth is - instead of poking halfheartedly at his food and checking his phone every five minutes, they have every right to.
- - - - - -
"If I can get Nick to admit he's upset 'cause of the, y'know, 'gay is a sin and I don't want Kevin to go to Hell' thing, he'll be fine. You know he's not mad about the businessy shit."
"I know. I told Mike that and he thinks I'm making excuses."
"Yeah, well, which of the two of you knows Nick better?"
"Point," Kevin says, hoists MJ back up onto his tummy after a particularly overzealous reach for the string Kevin's dangling.
"I...I'll be honest, I have no fucking idea what's gonna happen with Mom and Dad, Kev. I - they don't even know I'm talking to you."
"You - don't put yourself in the middle of this. I'll figure it out."
"Dude, it's me. They'll think I'm just on your side to be a rebel, or whatever. And you'd do it for me."
"Thanks for the clothes, by the way, I hardly packed anything."
"You're reimbursing me for shipping, fucker, your boots are heavy."
"Like it wouldn't cost just as much to ship your hair care collection."
MJ gets bored with the string in the air, pounces the drawstring dangling from Kevin's sweatshirt instead, knocks his head into the phone on the way but doesn't even notice, just goes for the drawstring like it's his worst enemy. Tiny kitten growls, oh gosh.
"The fuck is that noise?"
"His bandmates got me a kitten."
"No shit. So you're - I mean, obviously you're not 'good', but you're, like, okay there?"
"I'm okay, yeah."
"Cool. Uh, I'm going to lunch with Nick, and I'll - we'll talk. Take care of yourself, and lemme know if you need anything, okay?"
"I - thanks, Joe. Just, I - thank you."
"Dude, don't, it's nothing. Love you."
"Love you, too," Kevin barely gets out before MJ realizes how fun his hair looks and makes a wild lunge.
- - - - - -
This is really nice. Mike feels like a fucking dick for thinking it, 'cause Kevin got a text or something from Joe earlier saying Nick's not really budging, so he's been down all day, and those reminders why they're getting all this time together to do nice shit like lay around on the couch watching bad action movies should stop him from enjoying it this much.
But Kevin's sleepy and warm in his arms, and Arnold's shooting something, and the stupid kitten is sleeping on his shoulder, and this is pretty fucking nice, shitty reason aside.
"We need to go furniture shopping," Kevin says, out of the blue, half-asleep so it's not much more than a mumble.
"Do we?"
"You've got more kitchen chairs in here than in the kitchen."
"There's one in here."
"Exactly." Kevin twists, props himself on an elbow, kisses Mike quickly. "That's a problem. You need a table. And some chairs that go in the kitchen, so you can get a real living room chair for in here. And we need to decorate."
"Whoa, okay, I'm fine furniture shopping with you, but there's no 'we' in decorate."
"That's...probably for the best, yeah," Kevin says, sweeping his eyes around the room with that look he gets when Mike tells him he doesn't own any pants that aren't jeans, no shoes that aren't sneakers.
"Tomorrow," he says, presses his lips to Kevin's before he thinks of something else. "And I bet Bill'll decorate with you."
Kevin grins, kisses Mike hard, starts wiggling and maneuvering Mike until he's stretched out on the couch with Mike on top of him. The kitten isn't exactly happy about his shoulder-bed moving so much, so he climbs down and stomps off, but Kevin doesn't seem to notice and Mike doesn't give a shit about anything when Kevin kisses him like that.
- - - - - -
There are two bands worth of people in the living room when Kevin wakes up and stumbles out in search of coffee; some warning would have been nice, 'cause maybe the catcalls are good for his ego, but they just make him blush.
All over.
Brendon follows him when he goes back to the bedroom to put actual pajamas on over the Aquaman underpants Joe'd gotten him for Christmas last year, rests a hand on his shoulder and says, "If you wanna talk, I've, y'know, been here. With friends, too, so - lemme know, I'm around for a few days. And if you wanna do the denial thing, then just - I'll give you my number, or Mike will, or something. Okay?"
He flashes a smile at Kevin and goes back to the crowd in the living room without waiting for Kevin to respond; between kittens and shopping trips and apartment-painting parties, Kevin was already right on the verge of overwhelmed, and okay whatever maybe it makes him a big emotional girl but this just puts him right over.
Mike has the best friends ever.
- - - - - -
"You're turning into a lightweight, Carden," someone says, sounds like Chiz but he can't be sure it's not Ryland trying out a new accent, and Mike flips him off without bothering to open his eyes. He's had a long fucking week, okay, and the new couch is fucking comfy, and he's feeling so warm and loose from his few drinks he can't help but doze off a little.
"Fuck off."
"Language, mister," and that one's definitely Gabe. "All this time with Jonas and you haven't cleaned up your mouth yet, I'm disappointed."
"Shut up," Kevin says, and there's something off enough about his voice, or the way he's talking, or something that Mike cracks an eye open.
"Are you feeding him alcohol, Saporta?"
"No, it's my turn next."
"You're taking turns."
"Well it's not like we have much choice, dude, you turned him gay - " Kevin makes what's probably supposed to be an indignant noise at that, but he's all smiles so no one really takes him seriously - "and we can't get him swearing, so this is the only corruption left. Well. Without going into really shady stuff. So we have to be fair."
Mike expects Kevin to have something to say about that, about at least part of it, but he's just happily scratching the kitten's ears and sipping whatever it is Ryland decided to corrupt him with. And maybe he should say something, but Kevin's happy, and if he waits until late enough, one of them'll be drunk enough to agree to stick around and do hangover duty.
"It's my turn after Gabe. Write that down," Butcher demands, stabbing a finger at the notebook on Brendon's lap, and Mike just rolls his eyes and goes back to dozing.
- - - - - -
"You'll wanna make sure whatever money's yours is where your dad can't get it, so he can't drain your account and then make you, like, go to gay reform camp so you can come home when you've got no money and no place. Not that Mike's gonna kick you out for not paying rent, or anything, but...you just have to make sure you have some power, so any making up can be at least partly on your terms."
Kevin sighs, rests his head on Brendon's shoulder. "I don't wanna play power games with my dad."
Brendon doesn't say anything, just rubs his back and watches the chaos of Cobra's backstage - where there are way too many people, 'cause Gabe takes it as a personal insult if anyone he even sort of considers a friend is within striking distance and doesn't show.
"And you and Mike should, like, talk about the living arrangements, so you both know what you expect. 'Cause I've - if he thinks this is gonna take two weeks and you'll either be back with your parents or have your own place, and you think you're staying as long as it takes...you know?"
"The sneaking around was easier," Kevin says, quietly, first time he's even come close to admitting regret.
"Maybe, but that's a lifetime of shit. This is, like, one big burst, and it ends. Eventually. 'Cause even if you fight for the rest of your life, or don't talk to them again, you move on. There's no moving on when you're dealing with it every time you have to hide him in the bathroom 'cause Nick wants to show you lyrics at two in the morning."
"Yeah," Kevin says, but he's not convinced; Brendon doesn't stop rubbing his back, so at least he's probably aware it'll take a while before the pep talk does any good.
"Hey, Jonas, turn that frown upside down, Vicky-T's got a scratchy throat, so I've got an opening for a good girl to go bad."
From somewhere Kevin can't see in the crowd, Beckett starts hollering about how he's Gabe's girl, excuse you, and Kevin just blinks up at Brendon, starts to laugh, because what is his life.
- - - - - -
Kevin would probably punch him if he knew - except Kevin doesn't punch, so Kevin would probably just yell or give him the silent treatment, at most - how close Mike was (when Joe first called, when they set up a time, when they got dressed, when they got in the car, at least five different times so far on the way to the airport) to putting his foot down, saying no fucking way are you seeing him now, not when Joe can't guarantee he won't be a little shit.
If Mike said he didn't trust Nick as far as he could throw him right now, that he'd be happiest if Kevin just cut his whole fucking family off except for Joe, well. Kevin might get all worked up when Mike goes apeshit on assholes who hassle him, but this probably isn't a kind of protectiveness he'll like.
"You're gonna be sore in the morning," Kevin says, quietly, rests a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Huh?"
"You've had your shoulders tensed up to your ears since Joe called. Relax a little, or you're gonna be all stiff and sore."
"I don't know why you're so fucking calm."
Kevin blinks at him, stares at him warily, that kind of serious contemplation weird enough on his usually goofy, happy face, the glow of the red light making it just completely surreal.
"He's my brother."
"Your brother who - "
"Don't. If he's gonna - if he's not okay, Joe wouldn't tell him where I was, I don't care what he said on the phone. And I - " Kevin slouches down in the seat a little, scrubs his hands over his face. "Dad's started pushing me out, of the band, of the - he doesn't listen to Joe with stuff like this. Even if I didn't want to know me and Nick are okay, I need him."
"You've been smiling a lot," Mike says, simply, pulls into the parking garage and looks at Kevin.
"If he does anything, you can punch him," Kevin says, leans over to kiss him softly, squeezes his hand before he unbuckles his seatbelt.
- - - - - -
Nick looks even more tense than Mike did, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched so much he's probably lost about an inch of height. Joe found them a flight that got in late, but too early for the redeye crowd, so the airport's pretty empty - good thing, 'cause with Nick that tense, and Kevin fidgeting with his shirt so much the bottom couple buttons keep coming undone, and Joe looking back and forth between them like he has absolutely no idea what to expect, he can just imagine the rumors.
"They told Frankie you're taking a little vacation," is the first thing Nick says, and he sounds so - he hasn't been sleeping enough, even if Kevin couldn't see it in the dark circles under his eyes he'd be able to hear it in his voice.
"That's better than some things, I guess."
"I - I don't get it, Kev."
There's nothing to get, Kevin wants to say, but Nick probably knows that. "I don't need you to."
"I'm sorry," he offers, and when Kevin hugs him, when Nick lets the tension in his shoulders go enough to hug back, pull Kevin in tight, both Joe and Mike breathe out a sigh of relief.
- - - - - -
"- of rumors," Nick's saying, when Mike wanders in with an armload of coffee and breakfast sandwiches. "Someone leaked that you haven't been back to the set since we started filming again, and...I dunno. Exhaustion, on the respectable sites, which probably isn't bad, but there's some weird stuff out there."
"Did you know," Joe says, and from the sheer delight on his face, this is gonna be either really good, or really bad, or both, "you're in rehab? Those painkillers, man, I told you."
Mike starts laughing so hard Kevin has to recover the coffee. "Fuck. You're the bad boy Jonas. Oh my God."
"People are morons," Kevin says, as he starts to pass out everyone's order, but he's grinning. "Joe, you have some catching up to do."
"You're married, too, but the wife's a different person everywhere. You've been seen at so many Cobra shows I've seen Victoria's name come up more than once."
"I could do worse," Kevin says, curls up next to Mike on the couch and closes his eyes while he sips his coffee. "Mm. You're my favorite."
Mike snorts, kisses the top of his head. "I'm telling Victoria, she'll be all over that shit."
"Dad hasn't - he - me and Joe told him we won't address the rumors until you sign off on what we say. And he - you probably don't wanna hear this, but I guess he'd rather let 'em go than talk to you, 'cause...that's what he's doing."
Kevin sighs, nods, and Mike tightens his arm around him, kisses the top of his head again. "I like exhaustion better than coming out to the world, anyway."
"And he's been having a lot of meetings, with the - he was serious, Kev, he wants you out. For, like, good. And I'll talk to him, he usually listens to me, but he's - I don't - why would you do this? You're gonna lose everything, and - "
Joe scoots back on the floor, leans back against Nick's legs, tugs at the denim over his left calf a little. "If you really wanna know, ask, don't accuse. If you wanna accuse - "
"I have permission to punch you," Mike says, just enough edge in his voice Nick'll know he's not entirely joking.
Nick sighs, leans a little, clutches his coffee like he's outside in the cold and needs to warm his hands. "So, Joe says you've been doing this for a while, and if you - what was so bad about it you had to - why was saying it more important than us?"
Joe bites his lip a little; he's watching Mike like he expects him to fly across the room and kick the shit out of Little Jonas any minute. Which, he might be on to something.
"Bullshit, you little - " Kevin pinches his side, tenses up a little against him.
"Don't. It's not more important than you, it's - Nick, you've seen me lie. And you've seen me keep secrets. You don't - I don't need it, I don't need the band or the show or my face on everything, on anything, and I don't want it if I can only have it that way. It doesn't have a damn thing to do with you."
Kevin's shaking a little, cheeks flushed, and Mike's gut impulse is to tell Nick to get the fuck out, now, 'cause Kevin was doing fine and now he's gonna be all messed up for another few days, longer probably, but he knows, somewhere, this is good, this is what Kevin needs, so he relaxes his grip a little, leans so he's pressed more against Kevin.
"I just don't - I didn't - " Nick sighs, and Joe reaches, takes the coffee carefully out of his hands just when Mike's worrying the cup might collapse in his grip. "I miss you."
"I'm right here."
"Yeah," Nick says, almost too quiet to hear, and Joe leans back harder against his legs, Kevin shifts more fully into Mike's side.
- - - - - -
Nick and Joe go home long before Kevin wants them to - he needs a few days with Nick that aren't angry, tense, wants to just hang out with them like brothers. But Mom and Dad don't know they're visiting, and whatever Joe told them only gave them two days. When he gets back from the airport Bill's over, hunched over Kevin's laptop with Mike and laughing.
"Shit, they weren't kidding." Bill looks up when Kevin closes the door, lopsided grin plastered on his face. "Why didn't you tell us about you and Victoria? We'd've thrown a party, or something. Well. Mike probably wouldn't, and by the way you owe him an explanation, young man."
Mike shoves him, and Bill flops back on the couch, overdramatic.
Kevin smiles at them, can't help it, but his heart's not in it, and from the way Mike's face falls, he can tell. "Okay?"
"No. I - no. But I'm just gonna...take a bath. And a nap with MJ. And then maybe."
Mike nods, keeps frowning after him when he walks down the hall; Kevin isn't entirely surprised when he hears the door open and close a few minutes later, when Mike's lying in bed with MJ when he gets out of the tub.
- - - - - -
Mike's been looking for a spoon for the last twenty minutes, so he's not in the best mood anyway when Kevin and Bill come in, and it doesn't help one fucking bit that Kevin looks all depressed again, eyes a little red.
"Where the fuck were you?"
"Church," Bill says, lets go of Kevin and hops up to sit on the table.
"You're still going to church?"
Kevin blinks at him, like it's a stupid thing to ask. Mike would really like a fucking spoon so he can eat his cereal. "Um. Yeah?"
"I just thought, y'know, with - "
"It's my parents doing this to me, not God. I still need God," Kevin says, kisses Mike's cheek.
"And you walked into a church and didn't get struck by lightning?"
"I think that fear is why I was invited, not you," Bill retorts, smiling.
"Whatever. Where the fuck are the spoons?"
"Second drawer to the right of the sink, same place they've been since we redecorated. Don't swear at me."
"My cereal's gone soggy, since you felt the need to come in and rearrange all my shit, so I'll swear at whoever the fuck I want."
Kevin scowls at him and spins around, heels clicking down the hall as he stomps off to the bedroom.
"There was a really nice sermon," Bill says quietly, and Mike doesn't give a fuck about the sermon, but Bill knows that, so this has to be going somewhere, "about acceptance. Unconditional love. And we were spotted, so in probably an hour there'll be some nice pictures of him leaving a church and crying, to feed the rumor mill."
"Fuck."
"And, y'know, you did tell him he could redecorate. And the spoons have been there for two weeks now."
"Shut up, Bill."
- - - - - -
dad not budging. idk what 2 do, we're stumped - call me
Kevin's about two seconds away from flinging his phone at the wall when Mike's fingers wrap around his wrist. "Easy, killer," he says, tugs the phone out of Kevin's hand and settles onto the bed with him, scratches MJ's ears until he starts purring.
"I shouldn't have done it," Kevin says, leans against him and goes completely boneless. "I hate this."
"I believe the second part, not the first."
Kevin nods, curls his fingers into Mike's shirt, draws a couple shaky breaths and manages to support some of his own weight again. "I've been - I found a place. In LA, I was looking there before all this, anyway. I can close on it this week, I think, I've been talking to the realtor, and it - I can be out of your hair."
"I don't want you out of my hair," Mike says, slips his arms around Kevin, and even though Kevin knows he's probably inwardly groaning like crazy about saying anything that cheesy, it makes him smile.
"I didn't - I don't wanna fight."
"That wasn't a fucking fight, Kevin, Jesus."
"I didn't say it was. But I don't wanna."
Mike dips his head, kisses him slow, soft, eases him back on the bed and kisses him for so long MJ gets annoyed about the lack of attention and wanders off in search of toys.
"We'll be fine," Mike says, against his lips, and he's got that edge in his voice, the one that means not to mess with him; if he's gonna take this as a challenge, Kevin has no trouble believing they will. Mike takes on challenges like Nick does, like losing isn't even an option.
"I love you."
"More than Victoria?"
"I don't think I'm allowed to love you more than my wife."
Mike growls, ducks his head and bites at Kevin's neck until he arches. "Okay. Yes. More than Victoria."
Kevin can feel Mike's grin, slow and predatory, against his neck. "Love you, too."
- - - - - -
More than anything, right now, Mike wants to be listening in on Kevin's conversation; at the very least he wants to sit there to rub Kevin's back and growl when necessary. But this isn't about him, so he sits on the couch, stares down the hall towards the bedroom like he's gonna overhear through the power of his glare, and tries to keep himself from ripping the nice new couch.
Two hours he's on the phone; Mike has no fucking clue if that's a good sign or a bad one. When the door opens, feet shuffle down the hall, he lets out the breath he was apparently holding in one big whoosh - of course, not knowing what the fuck went on, that might be a premature whoosh.
"I quit," Kevin says, so quiet Mike isn't exactly sure he heard right, but there's a hardness in Kevin's voice he's not used to. "I don't - he doesn't have the satisfaction of calling me. There's gonna be stuff to sign coming later today, maybe tomorrow."
"You okay?"
"I...will be. I think. I don't - what comes next?"
Mike nods, reaches for Kevin's hand - there's no ring there, anymore, no point in even pretending it means anything now - and pulls him down to the couch. "We'll figure it out."
Genre: Slash
Fandom: Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is... (Guest Appearances from Cobra Starship & Panic! at the Disco)
Main Characters: Kevin Jonas, Mike Carden
Adult Content: Nope
Words: 6374
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Kevin's confession loses him one family, gains him one; he still manages to come out ahead, somehow.
Teaser: Kevin draws a deep, shaky breath. "I love you," he says, and that's when he cracks, when for a few awful seconds that feel like days all he can hear on the other end are these heart-wrenching gaspy sobs. Hopefully he's got someone else driving him, fuck.
The insistent beeping of the alarm makes Kevin want to cry, honestly; the bed's so warm, so comfy, so full of Mike, and instead of time to get up the stupid alarm just makes him think we should have another two hours of this. But Mike has to leave before anyone else is up to see him, and Kevin has to be out of bed and ready to go before Big Rob comes in for his wake-up call so he doesn't see the truly impressive amount of hickeys dotting Kevin's neck, chest, stomach, doesn't see the bruises that look suspiciously like Mike's handprints on his hips.
"Turn that fucking thing off, fuck."
Kevin sighs, sits up enough to figure out how to shut the stupid clock off, debates for just a second about whether an extra two hours of sleepy cuddling is worth getting caught naked in bed with his dirty gay rockstar lover.
Mike growls and curls in on himself when Kevin pulls the blanket down, but he just glares at Kevin instead of trying to pull it back up and go to sleep, so that's a good sign.
"Sorry."
"No you're not, you like watching me suffer."
"We shouldn't have to do this," Kevin says; he says it a lot. Mike doesn't even respond any more - they both know how he feels. He just sits up, nips at Kevin's lower lip, kisses him slow and way dirtier than he should when they don't have time for anything.
"We'll be done by the time you hit Chicago, so we should have some time then, right?" Mike asks, when he finally pulls away to tug yesterday's clothes on so he can make his getaway.
"Yeah," Kevin says, and then, "Sorry."
"Shut up," Mike tells him, kisses him goodbye, and slips out the door so quietly Kevin barely hears it close.
- - - - - -
u stole my shirt
"Does he even fit into your clothes, scrawny?" Bill asks, from over his shoulder.
"Look who's fucking talking. And no, not even a little. Stop reading my messages."
"But your love life's so fascinating." Bill drops onto the couch, sprawling out so he takes up enough space for three of him.
"It's the secrecy. Really adds something special."
"Not that you're bitter, or anything."
"Fuck off." Mike tries to grin, play it off like he's just joking, but he's not exactly an actor and Bill's not stupid.
- - - - - -
"I hate lying to my parents," Kevin says, setting his phone aside and picking up a slice of pizza and dropping into the living room chair that's actually a kitchen chair. Mike just arches his eyebrows. "Don't. And there's a difference between keeping a secret and lying."
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"They think I'm staying with friends, and Mom just texted with some schedule stuff. She hopes I'm having fun catching up."
Mike snorts a little, opens his arm and twitches two fingers come here; Kevin's off his chair and up against him on the couch before either of them can blink. Mike's apartment is so sparse it's hard to tell someone actually lives there, sometimes, except it's messy as Hell, but Kevin's there so rarely he hasn't bothered to complain.
"I'm so - I'm tired."
"Well, we didn't exactly sleep much last night," and Mike's wiggling his eyebrows, leering at Kevin, trying like Hell to lighten the mood. Not really his strong suit.
"Not that kind of tired."
Mike sighs, tightens his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "I know. Maybe your pro and con list needs updating."
"Maybe. It's not - this isn't fair to you, anyway."
"Don't. Because, seriously, we'd be sneaking around even if only one of us was a guy, so don't feel all guilty I have to be the secret boyfriend. I'm fine with it. What's at stake for you is way bigger than me getting a few extra hours of sleep when I come to your hotel, so don't - just don't. I'm good either way, you know that. You do what you have to do, don't do what you can't, and I'm good either way."
The heater kicks on, hums too loudly for three or four seconds before it fades into the background; Kevin gives up pretending he's actually in the mood to eat and leans over Mike to put his slice back in the box. "They'd like you if they knew you."
"Would they get to know me?"
They both know the answer to that; Kevin doesn't bother to say it.
- - - - - -
"I told them."
Kevin's voice sounds broken, he sounds like he's having trouble breathing, like it's taking everything he has not to cry; Mike balls his fists up, digs his fingernails into his skin. Fuck.
"Shit. I - how bad?"
"I'm on my way to the airport."
Fuck. Mike slams his fist into the couch cushion, like he thinks it'll fucking help. "Tell me that's because it got a little intense and you need a few days."
Silence on the other end, too long a pause, and then, "I can stay with you, right?"
"Shit, yeah, of course. Just lemme know when you're gonna land, I'll be there."
Kevin draws a deep, shaky breath. "I love you," he says, and that's when he cracks, when for a few awful seconds that feel like days all he can hear on the other end are these heart-wrenching gaspy sobs. Hopefully he's got someone else driving him, fuck.
"I love you, too," Mike says, when Kevin's sobs die down, when he's back to that barely-controlled shaky breathing, and obviously that was a stupid fucking choice 'cause hearing it gets Kevin crying again. Mike clutches the cushion he'd been slamming his fist into, so tight he rips the fabric a little, and stays on the line until Kevin promises him he'll be okay until he gets to Chicago.
- - - - - -
Kevin's been asleep for eleven hours straight when Bill comes over; Mike slept with him for the first five, lay in bed wide awake and lost in thought for three after that 'cause Kevin was so wrapped around him he couldn't leave. It wasn't till an hour ago he finally called Bill, gave him a brief update, asked him to come over 'cause the silence was killing him.
"Still sleeping?" Bill asks, hands over a grocery bag full of various chocolate ice creams.
"Yeah. I've never seen him look so fucking tired, fuck knows when the last time he really slept was."
Mike stocks the freezer without bothering to make a crack about how he's pretty sure ice-cream-as-band-aid only works in chick flicks; when he turns around Bill's sitting on the counter, head tilted, studying him.
"Jesus, what?"
"You're a softie."
Mike just shrugs, slams the freezer door shut hard enough to make Bill wince.
"Okay, a softie who's gonna break all his appliances."
"I'm a horrible person," Mike says, wanders over to stand between Bill's legs, turns around for a back rub without bothering to ask.
"Right, sure. Why?"
"When he said he told them...he sounded like shit, Jesus, I've never heard him so depressed, but the first fucking thing in my head wasn't about that, I was - it was, like, fuck yeah, look what he did for me, this rocks. He's two seconds away from tears and I'm fucking cheering.
Bill snorts, digs his fingers into the tension in Mike's shoulders. "You're an appliance-breaking softie in love. The Hell are you supposed to do, go blank for a few seconds every time you get big news until you're sure you'll react right? It's only horrible if you kept being happy at the expense of being a softie."
"Stop calling me a softie."
"Stop being one," Bill says, digs his fingers in so hard Mike hisses. "So, I have plenty of room, maybe Kevin should stay with me."
"Uh. Why?"
"You two aren't really at the moving-in-together stage, and I just - if he's gonna go through all this for you two, it'd suck if it got screwed up 'cause he can't handle your toxic socks all over the place, or whatever."
Mike pulls away, stalks over to the fridge to find a beer. He's gonna have to go get groceries, fuck, all he's got is beer and salsa, maybe some chips somewhere.
"On a good day," he says, twists off the cap and straightens up, takes a swig. "His self esteem is about as strong as you are. Like fuck I'm gonna be the one who kicks him out for the second time in two days, what the fuck do you think that would do to him?"
"It's not kicking him out. But okay." Bill slides off the counter, pulls Mike into a hug and jostles him around until he loosens up a little, relaxes into it. "I'm gonna go get you some food and stuff, 'cause I think if his choice is beer or your gross tap water he'll give himself salmonella."
"Yeah," Mike says, leans into Bill until he's let go with a nudge. "I - thanks."
"It's nothing. Want me to rally the troops?"
"Probably. Let me see how he's feeling when he wakes up."
- - - - - -
sent a bunch of ur clothes n shit this morning; tell mike hi. ill work on things here. luv u, man
Mike's standing in the doorway when Kevin sits up to read Joe's text, just leaning against the frame, looking at him.
"Hi," Kevin says, voice rough from sleep, from crying.
"Hey, you." Mike sets a water bottle on the nightstand next to Kevin's phone, slides in next to him and wraps his arms around Kevin's waist. "I was wondering if you were gonna wake up."
"Sorry. I wanted to talk first."
"It's fine, you needed that." Mike ruffles his hair a little, not that it can get much messier right now, then tilts Kevin's chin up, leans in for a slow kiss. "You also need a mint," he pulls back to say, kisses Kevin again when he starts to apologize.
"Joe says hi," Kevin says, lets Mike pull him to lie back down, burrow against the solid warmth of Mike's side. He won't be able to move for a week if he spends any more time lying down, but this bed is pretty much the only good place in the world right now.
"So he's okay with you?"
"I knew he was. He's known...forever, he figured out why my taste in music changed, why I was listening to you guys all the time, before I did, I think. Usually any good idea I had for better sneaking was really his idea."
Mike nods, runs his fingers through Kevin's hair lazily, good enough to make Kevin want to start purring, almost. "And Nick?"
"He - I don't - he's got his - I - " Kevin curls his fingers in Mike's shirt, tenses up against him, breathes in, out, slowly and carefully, tries to keep himself under control. He cried himself sick last night so he could do this starting today, so he could avoid feeling like a stupid kid for crying every ten minutes. "He asked why I had to say anything. 'Cause Dad doesn't - the band, and the show, it's all gonna be messed up, Dad doesn't want me involved anymore, and he - if I didn't say anything, I could be whoever I want, but why did I have to mess everything up."
His eyes are burning; Mike shifts, tugs him in a little closer, stops combing through his hair and wraps both arms around him. "Christ, that's - "
"He'll - he's just - we've all spent our whole lives hearing it's bad. He - he's hating the sin, I think, if he's mad at what I did he doesn't have to worry he's mad about...who I am. So he'll - Joe'll talk to him. He'll be fine."
"Joe spent his whole life hearing it, he's not pulling that shit."
"Joe and Nick look at it a lot differently. Nick's more - I don't know. They're just...different. So I - Mom just cried, Mike, she just - how am I so awful she had to cry that much?"
When Kevin looks up at him, Mike's biting his lip, holding back whatever it is he was going to say. "You're not. You know that."
"I - "
Mike sighs, hugs him even closer. "I know that. So, y'know, go with that until you figure it out for yourself."
- - - - - -
"You need to get that out of here before he sees it."
Butcher and Siska just grin at him, make absolutely no move to get rid of the impossibly tiny kitten Butcher had carried up hidden in his shirt.
"He'll love it."
"I know. I can't have pets in here, so get it out before he sees it and I have to tell him we can't keep it."
"Dude, how often do you really see your landlord?" Siska asks, and instead of taking it back out to the car, defiantly sets his pile of cat supplies down in the middle of the room.
"He looks like he's wearing a little tuxedo, Carden. Don't you have a soul?"
Mike flops down onto the couch, runs his hands through his hair. "How come, when Bill does something nice for us, it actually is something nice, and when you two try, I just end up wanting to punch more things than I did before you came over?"
"Talent," they say, in unison, and Mike buries his face in his hands. Fuckers. Awesome fuckers, but still.
Kevin comes in with Chinese, then, stops dead in his tracks without even closing the door. "Oh. My. Gosh."
"Shit," Mike mumbles into his hands, at the same time Butcher and Siska holler "Surprise!" so loudly they probably terrified the shit out of that poor kitten.
When Kevin lets out this noise Mike refuses to think of as a squeal, because he is not dating a guy who squeals (he might be dating a guy who wears heels and takes longer in the bathroom than anyone he's ever met, but squealing crosses a fucking line), he looks up in time to see Kevin giving one of those ridiculously dopey Kevin-smiles to Siska along with the best hug ever. The Chinese and the open door have, apparently, been completely forgotten, so Mike gets up to take care of those while Kevin distributes hugs and squealy noises and, most importantly, smiles.
"I'm naming him Mike Jr.," Kevin calls, while Mike's filling his plate with delicious, delicious carbs.
"I'll gut you."
Butcher and Siska look so fucking smug right now, but since Kevin's curled up on the couch wiggling his fingers for the kitten and smiling so fucking big it looks like the top of his head might fall off - a big fucking deal, small as his mouth is - instead of poking halfheartedly at his food and checking his phone every five minutes, they have every right to.
- - - - - -
"If I can get Nick to admit he's upset 'cause of the, y'know, 'gay is a sin and I don't want Kevin to go to Hell' thing, he'll be fine. You know he's not mad about the businessy shit."
"I know. I told Mike that and he thinks I'm making excuses."
"Yeah, well, which of the two of you knows Nick better?"
"Point," Kevin says, hoists MJ back up onto his tummy after a particularly overzealous reach for the string Kevin's dangling.
"I...I'll be honest, I have no fucking idea what's gonna happen with Mom and Dad, Kev. I - they don't even know I'm talking to you."
"You - don't put yourself in the middle of this. I'll figure it out."
"Dude, it's me. They'll think I'm just on your side to be a rebel, or whatever. And you'd do it for me."
"Thanks for the clothes, by the way, I hardly packed anything."
"You're reimbursing me for shipping, fucker, your boots are heavy."
"Like it wouldn't cost just as much to ship your hair care collection."
MJ gets bored with the string in the air, pounces the drawstring dangling from Kevin's sweatshirt instead, knocks his head into the phone on the way but doesn't even notice, just goes for the drawstring like it's his worst enemy. Tiny kitten growls, oh gosh.
"The fuck is that noise?"
"His bandmates got me a kitten."
"No shit. So you're - I mean, obviously you're not 'good', but you're, like, okay there?"
"I'm okay, yeah."
"Cool. Uh, I'm going to lunch with Nick, and I'll - we'll talk. Take care of yourself, and lemme know if you need anything, okay?"
"I - thanks, Joe. Just, I - thank you."
"Dude, don't, it's nothing. Love you."
"Love you, too," Kevin barely gets out before MJ realizes how fun his hair looks and makes a wild lunge.
- - - - - -
This is really nice. Mike feels like a fucking dick for thinking it, 'cause Kevin got a text or something from Joe earlier saying Nick's not really budging, so he's been down all day, and those reminders why they're getting all this time together to do nice shit like lay around on the couch watching bad action movies should stop him from enjoying it this much.
But Kevin's sleepy and warm in his arms, and Arnold's shooting something, and the stupid kitten is sleeping on his shoulder, and this is pretty fucking nice, shitty reason aside.
"We need to go furniture shopping," Kevin says, out of the blue, half-asleep so it's not much more than a mumble.
"Do we?"
"You've got more kitchen chairs in here than in the kitchen."
"There's one in here."
"Exactly." Kevin twists, props himself on an elbow, kisses Mike quickly. "That's a problem. You need a table. And some chairs that go in the kitchen, so you can get a real living room chair for in here. And we need to decorate."
"Whoa, okay, I'm fine furniture shopping with you, but there's no 'we' in decorate."
"That's...probably for the best, yeah," Kevin says, sweeping his eyes around the room with that look he gets when Mike tells him he doesn't own any pants that aren't jeans, no shoes that aren't sneakers.
"Tomorrow," he says, presses his lips to Kevin's before he thinks of something else. "And I bet Bill'll decorate with you."
Kevin grins, kisses Mike hard, starts wiggling and maneuvering Mike until he's stretched out on the couch with Mike on top of him. The kitten isn't exactly happy about his shoulder-bed moving so much, so he climbs down and stomps off, but Kevin doesn't seem to notice and Mike doesn't give a shit about anything when Kevin kisses him like that.
- - - - - -
There are two bands worth of people in the living room when Kevin wakes up and stumbles out in search of coffee; some warning would have been nice, 'cause maybe the catcalls are good for his ego, but they just make him blush.
All over.
Brendon follows him when he goes back to the bedroom to put actual pajamas on over the Aquaman underpants Joe'd gotten him for Christmas last year, rests a hand on his shoulder and says, "If you wanna talk, I've, y'know, been here. With friends, too, so - lemme know, I'm around for a few days. And if you wanna do the denial thing, then just - I'll give you my number, or Mike will, or something. Okay?"
He flashes a smile at Kevin and goes back to the crowd in the living room without waiting for Kevin to respond; between kittens and shopping trips and apartment-painting parties, Kevin was already right on the verge of overwhelmed, and okay whatever maybe it makes him a big emotional girl but this just puts him right over.
Mike has the best friends ever.
- - - - - -
"You're turning into a lightweight, Carden," someone says, sounds like Chiz but he can't be sure it's not Ryland trying out a new accent, and Mike flips him off without bothering to open his eyes. He's had a long fucking week, okay, and the new couch is fucking comfy, and he's feeling so warm and loose from his few drinks he can't help but doze off a little.
"Fuck off."
"Language, mister," and that one's definitely Gabe. "All this time with Jonas and you haven't cleaned up your mouth yet, I'm disappointed."
"Shut up," Kevin says, and there's something off enough about his voice, or the way he's talking, or something that Mike cracks an eye open.
"Are you feeding him alcohol, Saporta?"
"No, it's my turn next."
"You're taking turns."
"Well it's not like we have much choice, dude, you turned him gay - " Kevin makes what's probably supposed to be an indignant noise at that, but he's all smiles so no one really takes him seriously - "and we can't get him swearing, so this is the only corruption left. Well. Without going into really shady stuff. So we have to be fair."
Mike expects Kevin to have something to say about that, about at least part of it, but he's just happily scratching the kitten's ears and sipping whatever it is Ryland decided to corrupt him with. And maybe he should say something, but Kevin's happy, and if he waits until late enough, one of them'll be drunk enough to agree to stick around and do hangover duty.
"It's my turn after Gabe. Write that down," Butcher demands, stabbing a finger at the notebook on Brendon's lap, and Mike just rolls his eyes and goes back to dozing.
- - - - - -
"You'll wanna make sure whatever money's yours is where your dad can't get it, so he can't drain your account and then make you, like, go to gay reform camp so you can come home when you've got no money and no place. Not that Mike's gonna kick you out for not paying rent, or anything, but...you just have to make sure you have some power, so any making up can be at least partly on your terms."
Kevin sighs, rests his head on Brendon's shoulder. "I don't wanna play power games with my dad."
Brendon doesn't say anything, just rubs his back and watches the chaos of Cobra's backstage - where there are way too many people, 'cause Gabe takes it as a personal insult if anyone he even sort of considers a friend is within striking distance and doesn't show.
"And you and Mike should, like, talk about the living arrangements, so you both know what you expect. 'Cause I've - if he thinks this is gonna take two weeks and you'll either be back with your parents or have your own place, and you think you're staying as long as it takes...you know?"
"The sneaking around was easier," Kevin says, quietly, first time he's even come close to admitting regret.
"Maybe, but that's a lifetime of shit. This is, like, one big burst, and it ends. Eventually. 'Cause even if you fight for the rest of your life, or don't talk to them again, you move on. There's no moving on when you're dealing with it every time you have to hide him in the bathroom 'cause Nick wants to show you lyrics at two in the morning."
"Yeah," Kevin says, but he's not convinced; Brendon doesn't stop rubbing his back, so at least he's probably aware it'll take a while before the pep talk does any good.
"Hey, Jonas, turn that frown upside down, Vicky-T's got a scratchy throat, so I've got an opening for a good girl to go bad."
From somewhere Kevin can't see in the crowd, Beckett starts hollering about how he's Gabe's girl, excuse you, and Kevin just blinks up at Brendon, starts to laugh, because what is his life.
- - - - - -
Kevin would probably punch him if he knew - except Kevin doesn't punch, so Kevin would probably just yell or give him the silent treatment, at most - how close Mike was (when Joe first called, when they set up a time, when they got dressed, when they got in the car, at least five different times so far on the way to the airport) to putting his foot down, saying no fucking way are you seeing him now, not when Joe can't guarantee he won't be a little shit.
If Mike said he didn't trust Nick as far as he could throw him right now, that he'd be happiest if Kevin just cut his whole fucking family off except for Joe, well. Kevin might get all worked up when Mike goes apeshit on assholes who hassle him, but this probably isn't a kind of protectiveness he'll like.
"You're gonna be sore in the morning," Kevin says, quietly, rests a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Huh?"
"You've had your shoulders tensed up to your ears since Joe called. Relax a little, or you're gonna be all stiff and sore."
"I don't know why you're so fucking calm."
Kevin blinks at him, stares at him warily, that kind of serious contemplation weird enough on his usually goofy, happy face, the glow of the red light making it just completely surreal.
"He's my brother."
"Your brother who - "
"Don't. If he's gonna - if he's not okay, Joe wouldn't tell him where I was, I don't care what he said on the phone. And I - " Kevin slouches down in the seat a little, scrubs his hands over his face. "Dad's started pushing me out, of the band, of the - he doesn't listen to Joe with stuff like this. Even if I didn't want to know me and Nick are okay, I need him."
"You've been smiling a lot," Mike says, simply, pulls into the parking garage and looks at Kevin.
"If he does anything, you can punch him," Kevin says, leans over to kiss him softly, squeezes his hand before he unbuckles his seatbelt.
- - - - - -
Nick looks even more tense than Mike did, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched so much he's probably lost about an inch of height. Joe found them a flight that got in late, but too early for the redeye crowd, so the airport's pretty empty - good thing, 'cause with Nick that tense, and Kevin fidgeting with his shirt so much the bottom couple buttons keep coming undone, and Joe looking back and forth between them like he has absolutely no idea what to expect, he can just imagine the rumors.
"They told Frankie you're taking a little vacation," is the first thing Nick says, and he sounds so - he hasn't been sleeping enough, even if Kevin couldn't see it in the dark circles under his eyes he'd be able to hear it in his voice.
"That's better than some things, I guess."
"I - I don't get it, Kev."
There's nothing to get, Kevin wants to say, but Nick probably knows that. "I don't need you to."
"I'm sorry," he offers, and when Kevin hugs him, when Nick lets the tension in his shoulders go enough to hug back, pull Kevin in tight, both Joe and Mike breathe out a sigh of relief.
- - - - - -
"- of rumors," Nick's saying, when Mike wanders in with an armload of coffee and breakfast sandwiches. "Someone leaked that you haven't been back to the set since we started filming again, and...I dunno. Exhaustion, on the respectable sites, which probably isn't bad, but there's some weird stuff out there."
"Did you know," Joe says, and from the sheer delight on his face, this is gonna be either really good, or really bad, or both, "you're in rehab? Those painkillers, man, I told you."
Mike starts laughing so hard Kevin has to recover the coffee. "Fuck. You're the bad boy Jonas. Oh my God."
"People are morons," Kevin says, as he starts to pass out everyone's order, but he's grinning. "Joe, you have some catching up to do."
"You're married, too, but the wife's a different person everywhere. You've been seen at so many Cobra shows I've seen Victoria's name come up more than once."
"I could do worse," Kevin says, curls up next to Mike on the couch and closes his eyes while he sips his coffee. "Mm. You're my favorite."
Mike snorts, kisses the top of his head. "I'm telling Victoria, she'll be all over that shit."
"Dad hasn't - he - me and Joe told him we won't address the rumors until you sign off on what we say. And he - you probably don't wanna hear this, but I guess he'd rather let 'em go than talk to you, 'cause...that's what he's doing."
Kevin sighs, nods, and Mike tightens his arm around him, kisses the top of his head again. "I like exhaustion better than coming out to the world, anyway."
"And he's been having a lot of meetings, with the - he was serious, Kev, he wants you out. For, like, good. And I'll talk to him, he usually listens to me, but he's - I don't - why would you do this? You're gonna lose everything, and - "
Joe scoots back on the floor, leans back against Nick's legs, tugs at the denim over his left calf a little. "If you really wanna know, ask, don't accuse. If you wanna accuse - "
"I have permission to punch you," Mike says, just enough edge in his voice Nick'll know he's not entirely joking.
Nick sighs, leans a little, clutches his coffee like he's outside in the cold and needs to warm his hands. "So, Joe says you've been doing this for a while, and if you - what was so bad about it you had to - why was saying it more important than us?"
Joe bites his lip a little; he's watching Mike like he expects him to fly across the room and kick the shit out of Little Jonas any minute. Which, he might be on to something.
"Bullshit, you little - " Kevin pinches his side, tenses up a little against him.
"Don't. It's not more important than you, it's - Nick, you've seen me lie. And you've seen me keep secrets. You don't - I don't need it, I don't need the band or the show or my face on everything, on anything, and I don't want it if I can only have it that way. It doesn't have a damn thing to do with you."
Kevin's shaking a little, cheeks flushed, and Mike's gut impulse is to tell Nick to get the fuck out, now, 'cause Kevin was doing fine and now he's gonna be all messed up for another few days, longer probably, but he knows, somewhere, this is good, this is what Kevin needs, so he relaxes his grip a little, leans so he's pressed more against Kevin.
"I just don't - I didn't - " Nick sighs, and Joe reaches, takes the coffee carefully out of his hands just when Mike's worrying the cup might collapse in his grip. "I miss you."
"I'm right here."
"Yeah," Nick says, almost too quiet to hear, and Joe leans back harder against his legs, Kevin shifts more fully into Mike's side.
- - - - - -
Nick and Joe go home long before Kevin wants them to - he needs a few days with Nick that aren't angry, tense, wants to just hang out with them like brothers. But Mom and Dad don't know they're visiting, and whatever Joe told them only gave them two days. When he gets back from the airport Bill's over, hunched over Kevin's laptop with Mike and laughing.
"Shit, they weren't kidding." Bill looks up when Kevin closes the door, lopsided grin plastered on his face. "Why didn't you tell us about you and Victoria? We'd've thrown a party, or something. Well. Mike probably wouldn't, and by the way you owe him an explanation, young man."
Mike shoves him, and Bill flops back on the couch, overdramatic.
Kevin smiles at them, can't help it, but his heart's not in it, and from the way Mike's face falls, he can tell. "Okay?"
"No. I - no. But I'm just gonna...take a bath. And a nap with MJ. And then maybe."
Mike nods, keeps frowning after him when he walks down the hall; Kevin isn't entirely surprised when he hears the door open and close a few minutes later, when Mike's lying in bed with MJ when he gets out of the tub.
- - - - - -
Mike's been looking for a spoon for the last twenty minutes, so he's not in the best mood anyway when Kevin and Bill come in, and it doesn't help one fucking bit that Kevin looks all depressed again, eyes a little red.
"Where the fuck were you?"
"Church," Bill says, lets go of Kevin and hops up to sit on the table.
"You're still going to church?"
Kevin blinks at him, like it's a stupid thing to ask. Mike would really like a fucking spoon so he can eat his cereal. "Um. Yeah?"
"I just thought, y'know, with - "
"It's my parents doing this to me, not God. I still need God," Kevin says, kisses Mike's cheek.
"And you walked into a church and didn't get struck by lightning?"
"I think that fear is why I was invited, not you," Bill retorts, smiling.
"Whatever. Where the fuck are the spoons?"
"Second drawer to the right of the sink, same place they've been since we redecorated. Don't swear at me."
"My cereal's gone soggy, since you felt the need to come in and rearrange all my shit, so I'll swear at whoever the fuck I want."
Kevin scowls at him and spins around, heels clicking down the hall as he stomps off to the bedroom.
"There was a really nice sermon," Bill says quietly, and Mike doesn't give a fuck about the sermon, but Bill knows that, so this has to be going somewhere, "about acceptance. Unconditional love. And we were spotted, so in probably an hour there'll be some nice pictures of him leaving a church and crying, to feed the rumor mill."
"Fuck."
"And, y'know, you did tell him he could redecorate. And the spoons have been there for two weeks now."
"Shut up, Bill."
- - - - - -
dad not budging. idk what 2 do, we're stumped - call me
Kevin's about two seconds away from flinging his phone at the wall when Mike's fingers wrap around his wrist. "Easy, killer," he says, tugs the phone out of Kevin's hand and settles onto the bed with him, scratches MJ's ears until he starts purring.
"I shouldn't have done it," Kevin says, leans against him and goes completely boneless. "I hate this."
"I believe the second part, not the first."
Kevin nods, curls his fingers into Mike's shirt, draws a couple shaky breaths and manages to support some of his own weight again. "I've been - I found a place. In LA, I was looking there before all this, anyway. I can close on it this week, I think, I've been talking to the realtor, and it - I can be out of your hair."
"I don't want you out of my hair," Mike says, slips his arms around Kevin, and even though Kevin knows he's probably inwardly groaning like crazy about saying anything that cheesy, it makes him smile.
"I didn't - I don't wanna fight."
"That wasn't a fucking fight, Kevin, Jesus."
"I didn't say it was. But I don't wanna."
Mike dips his head, kisses him slow, soft, eases him back on the bed and kisses him for so long MJ gets annoyed about the lack of attention and wanders off in search of toys.
"We'll be fine," Mike says, against his lips, and he's got that edge in his voice, the one that means not to mess with him; if he's gonna take this as a challenge, Kevin has no trouble believing they will. Mike takes on challenges like Nick does, like losing isn't even an option.
"I love you."
"More than Victoria?"
"I don't think I'm allowed to love you more than my wife."
Mike growls, ducks his head and bites at Kevin's neck until he arches. "Okay. Yes. More than Victoria."
Kevin can feel Mike's grin, slow and predatory, against his neck. "Love you, too."
- - - - - -
More than anything, right now, Mike wants to be listening in on Kevin's conversation; at the very least he wants to sit there to rub Kevin's back and growl when necessary. But this isn't about him, so he sits on the couch, stares down the hall towards the bedroom like he's gonna overhear through the power of his glare, and tries to keep himself from ripping the nice new couch.
Two hours he's on the phone; Mike has no fucking clue if that's a good sign or a bad one. When the door opens, feet shuffle down the hall, he lets out the breath he was apparently holding in one big whoosh - of course, not knowing what the fuck went on, that might be a premature whoosh.
"I quit," Kevin says, so quiet Mike isn't exactly sure he heard right, but there's a hardness in Kevin's voice he's not used to. "I don't - he doesn't have the satisfaction of calling me. There's gonna be stuff to sign coming later today, maybe tomorrow."
"You okay?"
"I...will be. I think. I don't - what comes next?"
Mike nods, reaches for Kevin's hand - there's no ring there, anymore, no point in even pretending it means anything now - and pulls him down to the couch. "We'll figure it out."