When You Know It’s Meant To Be [2/2]
go back
IV. I think we can fake it
Mike is man enough to admit that he’s kind of a mess. He sleeps too much and showers less than normal and eats a lot of hot pockets, which have no nutritional value whatsoever, and actually don’t taste all that great either.
Touring helps, because he’s stuck on a bus with Butcher and Siska, and they’re always good for a distraction.
At the same time, Butcher and Siska bug the shit out of him.
Siska says he’s trying to get him laid, but the biggest problem with that is, honestly, that Mike doesn’t want to get laid. Butcher says that makes him an alien or a robot or an alien robot, and goes around pushing him into walls and saying, “What have you done with Mike, you fucker?” and Mike can tell he’s only half kidding, and that the other half is annoyed at whatever Mike has become. Which, on the surface, sounds like a responsible adult - he stays sober, he goes to bed while everyone else parties, he calls his mom every night - except Mike has stopped shaving, and even the fans at their meet-and-greets are starting to avoid him.
Two weeks after Kevin Jonas and Selena fucking Gomez show up at their concert - seriously, it’s not like he’d really been expecting Kevin to call, but when Kevin didn’t call, he’d realized that he’d really been expecting Kevin to call; the disappointment and rejection had been just another blow, piled on top of Em being a cheating bitch, and no way had he been prepared for Kevin to just-show up like that - Mike gets a text message from an unfamiliar number.
He stares at it before opening it, and his heartbeat does this trip-hitch thing when he sees, hi! its Kevin :)
Huh.
Mike stuffs his cell back in his pocket without answering. He does soundcheck and goes for pizza with a few roadies and then he throws himself into their show - he can still do that, can still put everything he has into their music - and then he collapses, exhausted and buzzing, into his bunk four hours later.
Finally, he texts Kevin back, hey
He doesn’t get an answer right away, but he figures it’s past eleven on the west coast, and who knows what Kevin’s up to after dark.
Mike wriggles out of his jeans and tugs the covers over his head.
*
Kevin texts Mike, Joe gave frankie coffee
And, we’re hiding from nick
Mike frowns, because he has no idea who Frankie is. He sneaks into the back of the bus and snags Siska’s laptop, and only feels slightly weird Googling ‘Jonas Brothers’ and ‘Frankie.’ He scrolls through Bonus Jonas’s blog, which is sort of unreal and hilarious, and then he texts Kevin, he’s 10??
A very mature ten, Kevin sends back, and right on its heels: I think I hear him breathing
Frankie?
Nick! Do androids needto breathe, Kevin texts and Mike laughs.
He sends, ur fam is weird
Kevin doesn’t immediately respond, and Mike makes a face, thinks maybe he said something wrong. Fifteen minutes later, though, another message from Kevin pops up: just got lectured by the youngest old man in histry
Mike grins. Uve never hungout with ryan ross
If hes like nick I don’t want to, Kevin sends.
Mike texts, Unless hes high, and Kevin writes back, :(:(:(, which just makes Mike grin wider, because Mike is texting Kevin Jonas, that doesn’t stop being surreal, and sort of fucking awesome.
*
It gets to the point where Mike grins every time his phone pings, and Bill gets suspicious.
“Not that I’m displeased that you’re smiling again, Carden,” Bill says, “but if you’re planning for a zombie apocalypse, I’d like prior warning.”
Mike stares at him. “How can-you know what, I don’t wanna know.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.
Bill jabs a finger into his chest. “You’re freaking me out.”
“What?”
“You’ve been a mess for weeks, and now you clipped your beard - to attractive lengths, might I add - and you’ve got these secret, zombie apocalypse grins. You know, like the ones Gerard Way was sporting during Warped five years ago, when we stumbled onto his shiny yet disturbing hidden collection of machetes.” Bill wraps a hand around Mike’s neck and touches their foreheads together. “Butcher has expressed worry to me.”
“Butcher thinks I’m an alien,” Mike says.
Bill sighs. “Butcher thinks you’re sad.”
Something tightens around Mike’s heart. Fucking Butcher. They’re all douches, but he loves these guys. “I’m fine.”
“Suddenly you’re fine. Poof.” Bill does jazz hands. “We’ve only got a couple choices here. Recreational drugs, zombie apocalypse-oh my god, you’ve killed Em.”
“Bill. First of all-” Mike actually can’t bring himself to tell Bill how wrong all of that is, but that’s mostly because of the look on Bill’s face - Bill doesn’t believe any of it either, he’s just trying to trick Mike into telling him what’s really going on.
Mike wavers barely a minute before giving up; this is only going to get more ridiculous, otherwise. He wordlessly gives Bill his phone.
Bill’s eyebrows go quizzical, but he flips it open. He stares at it a second, then Mike sees him go for the inbox. Mike knows what he’ll find.
“Hmmm,” Bill says. A smile grows on his mouth - it gets bigger as he scrolls through Mike’s messages. “Well.”
“Yeah,” Mike says. He can feel a faint blush on his cheeks.
“This is adorable.”
“Thanks.” Mike tries to frown. It’s surprisingly really, really hard.
“He’s internet stalking you, you realize.”
“I figured.” Kevin knows way too much random shit about their band. Fair’s fair, though - Mike’s been internet stalking Kevin, too. Mike’s watched Bounce more times than he’ll ever admit, and he finds it funny even with the distinct lack of Kevin in it. He thinks if he didn’t want in Kevin’s pants, Joe would be his favorite, and that Bill’s probably right - Nick would be really fun to fuck with. It’s embarrassing, how much Jonas Brothers shit he has saved in his delicious account.
Bill snaps the cell shut. “I approve,” he says.
Mike stares at him. “Good,” he says dryly. “’Cause, you know, I was worried.”
*
Mike forgets to turn his phone off, but it’s not like anyone’s paying attention to him anyway. Kevin texts, aren’t u on the radio? when Mike immediately sends, hey, back to Kevin’s, howdy
Bill leans over his shoulder while he types, though, and the DJ notices, and Bill, who is a giant douchebag, says, “He’s texting his significant other,” when the DJ asks what they’re doing.
Mike snorts.
The DJ grins and says, “So are any of you still single?”
Bill says, “Butcher and Siska, unless you count all the hot monkey sex they’re having with each other.”
The DJ obviously doesn’t know if they’re joking or not; he smiles gamely at them, but his eyes are darting back and forth. They’re not joking - Siska and Butcher are fucking, Mike has to share a bus with them - but at the same time Bill’s not being serious about it.
Butcher rings an arm around Bill’s neck and wrestles him off his chair. “It’s not nice to spill all our big gay secrets on air, Billvy,” he says, while Siska’s shouting about getting gay married in the background, and Bill laughs so hard he starts coughing, face mashed into the thin carpet.
Mike leans into the mic and says, “Sorry, folks.”
And then Bill grabs his ankle and yanks him down.
*
It takes Mike the rest of the day to realize Kevin is ignoring him. He’s just not entirely sure why.
Bill stomps up onto his bus, waving his cell in the air. “It’s the very height of Disney ridiculousness,” he says.
“What is?” Mike asks, without looking up from his phone. He figures the last text he got from Kevin was during the radio interview, right before Butcher attacked Bill. Huh.
Bill says, “A masked ball. Princess Selena called me, the costumes are expected to be lavish. We’ll have our work cut out for us.”
Mike blinks up at him. “What?”
Bill taps his finger on his bottom lip. “I’m thinking something green. It’ll bring out your eyes. Good thing your hair’s nearly grown out again.”
“The fuck?”
“Well, it’ll be sweeter clubbed, you see, just a tie at the back of your neck.” Bill pulls his own hair back. “It’s the style, Selena says think gothic Victorian. I actually have little to no idea what that looks like, but I think we can fake it.”
Mike’s getting an idea of what’s going on. “You want us to crash a Disney ball?”
“It’s a grand gesture type of thing,” Bill says. “Siska’s the one who suggested it, but Selena says she’ll help.”
Mike looks back down at his phone. He’s about to be all vulnerable and shit, ask Bill if he thinks Kevin will want him there, but he shakes it off. He’s totally not that fucking pathetic, just because Kevin hasn’t said anything all day. He’s probably busy. “When is it?” he asks.
“A few weeks,” Bill says. “We’ll be barely an hour away, and it’s one of our travel days. We’ll just skip a hotel night, drive through, crash, hopefully not burn, you can smooch your new man and I can properly stalk Nick, it’ll be fun for everyone.”
Mike nods, slowly. He types, I think bill has designs on your bros virtue, and sends it to Kevin.
It takes an hour to get a response, but he gets a response. A knot he didn’t know he had loosens in his chest, but travels up to stranglehold his throat. Which one? it says, bc joe’ll be all over that
Mike laughs a little. I’ll let bill know
*
V. pantaloons
It’s the anniversary of High School Musical or Sonny With A Chance’s hundredth episode or something - Kevin hadn’t really paid attention when they’d told him, but he isn’t complaining.
Kevin isn’t gonna lie, he likes the fancy costumes. They’re even letting him wear a feathered cap. He’s all in white and gold, with a stiff collar and these braided things on his shoulders and his boots have heels, which he loves; they make a clicky sound as he walks down the corridor.
Nick is miserable in several shades of blue, but only, Kevin knows, because he’d wanted to wear the crown.
Joe gets to wear the crown. He’s in seafoam and silver and the tails of his coat flutter when he walks. Joe is preening.
Kevin understands, he’s on the verge of preening, too - he’s got a feather in his cap. It swoops down around his face and it’s so soft, and it totally makes up for the itchy domino over his eyes.
“Ugh, I hate this,” Selena says, tugging on the hem of her fitted top. Her skirt is so wide she squishes Kevin into the wall when she steps up next to him. She grimaces. “Sorry.” Gathering her skirts into her arms, she flashes most of her legs up to mid-thigh, and Joe wolf-whistles.
Nick kicks him in the shin.
“Ow,” Joe says, hopping around on one foot.
“My hero,” Selena says dryly, but she leans over and pecks Nick on the cheek.
“Why are we doing this again?” Nick says, grumbling.
“Because it’s Sterling Knight’s birthday.”
“Wait, we’re having a masked ball for Chad Dylan Cooper’s sweet sixteenth?” Joe says.
“He’s twenty-two, jerk,” Selena says. “Now help me find Demi. I need to get these shoes off yesterday or I’m really gonna hurt someone.”
Joe leans into Kevin and stage-whispers, “Didn’t we just have a pizza party for Nick’s last birthday?”
“There were balloon animals,” Kevin says. “We let Frankie plan it, remember?”
“Hell, yeah. The balloon animals were kickass.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Nick says, scowling at them.
“Oh, you loved it,” Joe says. “You had a crown. Bet you wish you had a balloon crown now, huh? Not as cool as my-ow, stop, stop, watch the hair, dude!”
Joe and Nick wrestle each other into a wall, and Kevin stands next to Selena and just watches, because he doesn’t want to risk ripping his brocade waistcoat, and his pants are really tight and Kevin doesn’t want to test the seams - Sterling would never let him live it down if he flashed all of Disney’s darlings at his birthday party. Actually, neither would Nick. Or Joe, but for entirely different reasons; it’d be like that time Joe auctioned off his ruined white pants and half a salami sandwich he’d bit into on eBay, along with the picture that proved Kevin’d been the one who’d gotten the mustard everywhere.
But really, “Who gets a masked ball for their birthday party?” Even when Kevin had turned twenty-one he’s pretty sure all he’d gotten was a card from Mickey Mouse and a voicemail from some PR guy that used the words soused and windowless basement - he’s pretty sure Joe got the same thing for his last two birthdays, too, but Joe makes his own fun; he’d basically disappeared for three days with Nicole and Demi and the bassist from The Scene.
“Chad Dylan Cooper is the boy all tweens love to hate,” Selena says, wincing as Joe slams an elbow back into Nick’s throat. Then she grins wonkily up at Kevin. “Plus, he’s super cute.”
*
Kevin actually likes Sterling. He runs into him at the buffet and Sterling gives him a fist-bump and says, “Dude, check out my cape.”
Kevin briefly thinks that maybe guys in their twenties shouldn’t be that excited about capes, but then he thinks, heck yeah, capes, and wishes he had one, too. “It’s pretty sweet,” Kevin says. “I like the way it shimmers.”
“It’s the same material as my pants.”
“Cool.” Kevin finds satisfaction in having a valid excuse to look at Sterling Knight’s pants. Selena was right, he’s super cute. Kevin doesn’t know why it took him this long to realize he was gay, it’s kind of sad.
When he looks up again, he spots Bill - unmistakably Bill - over Sterling’s shoulder. “Oh no,” he says. Bill has on lots of pink. Lots and lots of pink, he looks like strawberry ice cream, and his cheeks are flushed below his mask and he’s dancing with Selena, and Kevin stares long and hard at them, because he knows if he takes his eyes off Bill he’s going to see Mike, and Kevin is wearing pantaloons, and buckled boots, and a feathered cap - all awesome things, yes, but Mike is a rock star, he doesn’t think he’d appreciate Kevin’s look.
Of course, Bill’s a rock star, too, and his shirt has ruffles.
“What’s wrong, man?” Sterling says around a mouthful of crackers and cheese.
“Um. Nothing,” Kevin says. “I just have to-” He gestures past him, away, toward the restrooms or the chocolate fountain or whatever, and Sterling nods.
“Sure, Jonas, see you,” he says, and Kevin just barely remembers to toss, “Happy birthday,” over his shoulder as he hurries off.
He edges the room, scanning the crowd nervously. On one end, he spots Siska spiking the punch, surreptitiously splashing clear liquid out of a hipflask. He finds Butcher and Michael Guy and Naomi on the dance floor, not far from Bill, with a visibly flustered Nicole as Butcher grabs hold of her waist and-twirls. It’s pretty funny, actually.
He doesn’t know where Mike is, and the more he doesn’t see him, the more he wants to, even dressed like he is. He tugs off his domino - it’s probably against the rules, but his face is sweating, it’s really gross - and taps his foot and stares down at the tiled floor, wondering what he’s supposed to do next.
“Hey, Prince Charming.”
Kevin jerks his head up. “Siska.”
“Nice hat.” Siska smirks and reaches out and flicks Kevin’s feather.
“Thanks,” Kevin says, frowning.
“So we got your belle to the ball,” Siska says, “but he’s a little shy.”
Kevin stares at him. Siska’s a little mischievous around the eyes, but he mostly seems serious. “What?”
“Not all of us can rock the-whatever the hell these are,” Siska says, plucking at the fabric over his thighs.
“Pantaloons,” Kevin says faintly.
“You knowing that makes so much sense,” Siska says. Then he grabs hold of Kevin’s shoulders - like before, Kevin gets a quick flash of déjà vu - and spins him around and there-there. Mike. Skulking around the restroom alcove, arms crossed, domino tugged down off his face and around his neck; he’s half-caught in the shadow of a huge, overgrown potted plant.
There’s a second when their eyes catch, when Mike sighs and shifts and drops his arms. Kevin can see Siska’s vision now, from before - this could totally be a fairytale; Mike’s a shining knight in dark green, with these awesomely tight pants and tall black boots and a bow in his hair. Kevin tries very hard not to swoon when Mike takes a step toward him, and then another.
“Oh,” Kevin says, light, like he doesn’t have enough air to breathe.
Siska pounds him on the back. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
Siska is the best fairy godmother ever.
*
Mike looks awkward. Clearly he looks awesome - he’s clean shaven again, and Kevin likes the longer hair, even the way it’s combed and pulled back - but he definitely looks awkward, too, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his feet or his whole body.
“I’d ask you to dance,” Mike says, “but that’s probably a bad idea.”
Kevin wants to say it’s not, but it’s kind of like the split seams thing; only there’s a time and place, and there’s never a time and place for split seams. “We can-do you want to go outside?” It’s sort of stifling in there, Kevin wants to unbutton his shirt, but he doesn’t really want to disturb his ascot.
Mike nods, and Kevin doesn’t really know where they’re going - the place is a maze - but they silently wind down corridors, side-by-side, until they somehow end up on an open parapet, surveying the Kingdom, all the way down Main Street, USA. It looks like the lights stretch on forever. There are crowds already gathering for the fireworks, clumps of people left over from the parade. The air smells like hotdogs.
“So,” Kevin says.
Mike ducks his head. “You got a little weird.”
“I-” Kevin doesn’t deny it, even though he wants to. It’s hard; having this huge crush on a guy who seems accessible and not at the same time. He doesn’t really hold it against Mike, even though he maybe should - he doesn’t know, maybe they’re open like that, but Kevin doesn’t want to fool around with a guy who has a girlfriend. Tonight, though-it’s really, really hard to remember why.
Mike has hard angles and intense eyes and he has warm, calloused hands that are currently cupping the curve of Kevin’s jaw.
Kevin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and moves away.
Mike’s hands drops. “What?” He sounds defensive, and when Kevin looks at him again his eyes are flat.
“You have a girlfriend,” Kevin says.
Mike blinks, like he didn’t think that was what Kevin was going to say. He says, “I don’t.”
“You-” Kevin shakes his head. “On the radio. Bill said you were-” He swallows hard. “Your significant other, Mike.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike says, moving closer to Kevin again, shackling his wrist when Kevin takes a step back. He pins him to the parapet wall, hands over his hands on the stone. “Who was I texting?”
When Kevin breathes, their chests touch. Kevin’s having trouble thinking clearly. “Who-?”
Mike leans in, says through clenched teeth. “Who was I texting, Jonas?”
“Me,” Kevin says shakily. “Me and your girl-”
Mike says, “Are you-he was talking about you, you moron!” He drops his forehead onto Kevin’s shoulder with a groan. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”
“But, um. Okay?” He stops himself from saying, ‘I read that you did,’ because Kevin’s read a lot of things about Mike. The internet is a font of information, most of it erroneous - unless Mike really does eat babies, but Kevin has his doubts. He also doesn’t say that Nick’s been frowning over his whatever-this-is with Mike from the start, and that, thanks to Nick, Kevin knows that Em is Australian and pretty and looks awesome in crop-tops - none of which Kevin can boast.
Nick means well, but any way you slice it, if Siska’s their fairy godmother, then Nick is the evil queen. Kevin suddenly finds that hilarious. He bites his lip, holding back laughter, but he can’t keep his body from shaking. It’s funny.
Mike shifts back, looks concerned for a whole second before quirking one side of his mouth up. “Are you laughing at me, Jonas?”
“No.” Kevin twists his hands out from under Mike’s and brings them up to clutch the front of Mike’s jacket. “Siska thinks you’re my Disney princess.”
“Siska’s gonna get his ass kicked, then,” Mike says, absently. He’s staring at Kevin’s mouth.
“I don’t know. The castle, the moon, the stars,” Kevin says. He can hear faint traces of music from the ballroom drifting up toward them. It sounds like Hips Don’t Lie, but Kevin isn’t going to be picky. “He was pretty adamant about having a fairytale ending.”
“You know most fairytales actually have a lot of death and gore in them. We could have that kind of ending.” Mike tugs on Kevin’s feather. “Or we could make out.”
Kevin is still nervous about that part - the making out part, even though they’ve done it before, and Kevin definitely wants to do it again. He fidgets against Mike and licks his lips. “Um.”
“Nice,” Mike says, and then he kisses him.
He kisses him just as Tinkerbell flies by on her zip line, and Kevin closes his eyes on the first bursts of explosive colors, and it’s possibly an even more ridiculous moment than when he’d given Danielle the glass slippers. He’s glad there’s no one there to witness it, this time - Kevin wants this all to himself.
*
“You guys are so gross,” Joe says. He makes a bleh face, like he’s eight years old and afraid of getting cooties. Kevin knows it’s not a guy thing - the bassist from The Scene a case in point - but no one wants to see their brother get some; Kevin would rather stab himself blind than watch Nick and Selena tongue kiss, or watch Joe do whatever he does to his dates that makes them smile so big afterwards - Kevin doesn’t even want to think about it.
He makes his own bleh face.
Mike pokes him in the stomach. “Hey, necking here.”
“Did you just say necking?” Joe asks, big-eyed, and Mike grabs the first thing he can get his hands on - it happens to be Selena’s latest CD, which Kevin loves - and pegs it across the room at him.
“You’re buying me a new one,” Kevin says, watching sadly as the CD hits Joe and splinters. Joe yelps and ducks out of the room.
“Buy it yourself, rich boy,” Mike says. He pulls Kevin onto his lap and starts licking his throat again, which is one of Kevin’s favorite things; Mike’s mouth is magic.
Kevin digs his hands into Mike’s hair. He shivers and presses closer, says, “Mike,” and then Nick stomps into the room, waving a magazine and yells some things like, “Blah, blah, blah, Mike, blah, Mike, blah, blah,” because Kevin can’t be expected to pay attention to anything when Mike has his hands up his shirt.
Mike says, “I hate your brothers,” against Kevin’s neck. He sighs, a warm, damp gust of breath that completely blanks Kevin’s mind.
When he blinks back into the conversation, Mike is pushing Kevin off his lap and saying, “What, for real?” as he rips the mag out of Nick’s hand - Nick looks like he’s having an apoplexy; his face is all funny and blotchy-red.
“Huh,” Mike says.
“What?” Kevin asks, leaning forward. He hooks his chin over Mike’s shoulder.
Mike pulls away a little and glances at him. “What do you think?”
What does he think? It’s a picture of them in the center of US Weekly, it looks like, in the people scene section. “It’s not that bad,” Kevin says. “The wind is doing great things with your hair.”
Nick makes a sound like an enraged bull. “It looks like you’re holding hands!”
“Well, that’s because we are,” Mike says calmly, and Kevin sort of loves him, right then. He’s kind of totally in love with him, really.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s afraid his dreamy eyes will betray him.
Mike gives him a crooked smile.
“So, you’re-” Nick sputters a little, “you don’t care?”
Kevin holds Mike’s gaze and shrugs. “It’ll come out sooner or later,” he says, and sees Mike’s smile grow. He turns and looks at Nick. “They didn’t even catch it, Nick, or else we wouldn’t be in people scene.”
“It’d be front page news,” Joe says, slipping back into the room. “You two are sweet, geez, all the girls would eat up a big gay coming out.”
“Joe,” Nick says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I was all for doing it before remember.” Joe leans against the doorjamb - he’s wearing his jacket sleeves rolled up, like he’s on Miami Vice, Kevin’s pretty sure that means he’s got a date - and says, “And now it’ll be better, because Kevin’s totally dating his celebrity crush.”
Mike chokes on a laugh. “Kev?”
Kevin flushes, embarrassed, but he grins at him and says, “I’m dating my celebrity crush. I’m like Katie Holmes, only you’re not crazy and in a cult.”
Mike waggles his eyebrows. “How do you know?”
Kevin wouldn’t put the whole cult thing past Pete Wentz, actually, but he realizes that he doesn’t care. “Just so long as you don’t make me drink the Kool-Aid,” he says and kisses Mike so long his ears buzz, while Nick says, incredulously, “Are you making Jonestown jokes now?” in the background and Joe makes some retching sounds, and when they come back up for air, Mike has stunned, glazed eyes and they’re alone again.
“I really don’t care, you know,” Kevin says. “About the picture.”
Mike swipes his thumb along his jaw. He says, “I know. Me neither.”
*
Epilogue: at least it’s not a sex tape
Bill thinks it’s hysterical. Mike is not surprised about this.
Bill laughs and laughs and laughs, and Mike’s a good sport about it; he punches him in the shoulder instead of the face.
“It’s not that funny, dickwad,” Mike says.
“It’s pretty funny,” Siska says.
Kevin grins at them. “The last time I was on TMZ there was a still of me picking my nose,” he says, and Bill laughs even harder, Mike didn’t think that was possible.
Mike hunches further into the couch and scowls.
Kevin nudges their arms together. “Come on. It’s not that bad.”
“This was months ago, how did they even get this?” Mike doesn’t understand. There, frozen on the screen - because Bill’s still a giant douchebag and he keeps rewinding the DVR - is a shaky cell phone video of Mike pinning Kevin to the wall of Cinderella’s Castle. Who could have even shot that?
Butcher holds up his hands. “Don’t look at us, dude. I think I had Siska in the bathroom by that point.” He leers at Siska, and Kevin makes that eww sound that never fails to make Mike smile.
Mike manfully holds his lips steady.
Bill stops giggling into his hands long enough to hit Play again.
There’s some clothes rustling and panting and Kevin saying, “Mike.” They look like two Regency romance novel rejects, it’s so fucking embarrassing. The helpful TMZ voiceover just makes Mike want to never go out in public again.
Kevin suddenly sits up straighter and says, “Wait,” and, “Rewind that again.”
Mike drops his head back and groans and silently asks the ceiling, why me?
Bill gleefully hits the back button, then plays it from the beginning.
“There’s a-” Kevin points at the screen. “That! I know that laugh.” It’s a barely there chuckle, like an evil heh. “Frankie.”
“Frankie? Your ten-year-old brother, Frankie? That Frankie?” Mike likes Frankie - he’s a cool little dude, Mike’s started him on a kickass collection of random tees. “Was he planning on living to see eleven?”
“Frank has a really loose interpretation of pranks,” Kevin says. “I once helped him convince Joe he had crabs.”
Everyone pauses.
Bill kind of looks like he wants to laugh some more, but it’s so bizarre, he seems caught in a thoughtful frown instead. “I think I want to meet this Jonas. He may be my new favorite.”
Kevin leans his head on Mike’s shoulder as Bill starts the TV again, this time letting it play on. He says, “It’s really not so bad.”
Mike grunts. It’s not like Perez hadn’t outted them the month before. Not meanly, surprisingly, because apparently Kevin’s a darling, and Mike’s a gentleman - what the fuck? - and there are poll results up on E! comprised almost entirely by twelve-year-old girls who want them to get married on a miniature pony farm in Vermont. And then make out a lot in front of them.
They’ve gotten half their wish.
Mike threads their hands together, rests them on his knee. It’s really not that bad.
Siska says, “And, hey. At least it’s not a sex tape.”
IV. I think we can fake it
Mike is man enough to admit that he’s kind of a mess. He sleeps too much and showers less than normal and eats a lot of hot pockets, which have no nutritional value whatsoever, and actually don’t taste all that great either.
Touring helps, because he’s stuck on a bus with Butcher and Siska, and they’re always good for a distraction.
At the same time, Butcher and Siska bug the shit out of him.
Siska says he’s trying to get him laid, but the biggest problem with that is, honestly, that Mike doesn’t want to get laid. Butcher says that makes him an alien or a robot or an alien robot, and goes around pushing him into walls and saying, “What have you done with Mike, you fucker?” and Mike can tell he’s only half kidding, and that the other half is annoyed at whatever Mike has become. Which, on the surface, sounds like a responsible adult - he stays sober, he goes to bed while everyone else parties, he calls his mom every night - except Mike has stopped shaving, and even the fans at their meet-and-greets are starting to avoid him.
Two weeks after Kevin Jonas and Selena fucking Gomez show up at their concert - seriously, it’s not like he’d really been expecting Kevin to call, but when Kevin didn’t call, he’d realized that he’d really been expecting Kevin to call; the disappointment and rejection had been just another blow, piled on top of Em being a cheating bitch, and no way had he been prepared for Kevin to just-show up like that - Mike gets a text message from an unfamiliar number.
He stares at it before opening it, and his heartbeat does this trip-hitch thing when he sees, hi! its Kevin :)
Huh.
Mike stuffs his cell back in his pocket without answering. He does soundcheck and goes for pizza with a few roadies and then he throws himself into their show - he can still do that, can still put everything he has into their music - and then he collapses, exhausted and buzzing, into his bunk four hours later.
Finally, he texts Kevin back, hey
He doesn’t get an answer right away, but he figures it’s past eleven on the west coast, and who knows what Kevin’s up to after dark.
Mike wriggles out of his jeans and tugs the covers over his head.
*
Kevin texts Mike, Joe gave frankie coffee
And, we’re hiding from nick
Mike frowns, because he has no idea who Frankie is. He sneaks into the back of the bus and snags Siska’s laptop, and only feels slightly weird Googling ‘Jonas Brothers’ and ‘Frankie.’ He scrolls through Bonus Jonas’s blog, which is sort of unreal and hilarious, and then he texts Kevin, he’s 10??
A very mature ten, Kevin sends back, and right on its heels: I think I hear him breathing
Frankie?
Nick! Do androids needto breathe, Kevin texts and Mike laughs.
He sends, ur fam is weird
Kevin doesn’t immediately respond, and Mike makes a face, thinks maybe he said something wrong. Fifteen minutes later, though, another message from Kevin pops up: just got lectured by the youngest old man in histry
Mike grins. Uve never hungout with ryan ross
If hes like nick I don’t want to, Kevin sends.
Mike texts, Unless hes high, and Kevin writes back, :(:(:(, which just makes Mike grin wider, because Mike is texting Kevin Jonas, that doesn’t stop being surreal, and sort of fucking awesome.
*
It gets to the point where Mike grins every time his phone pings, and Bill gets suspicious.
“Not that I’m displeased that you’re smiling again, Carden,” Bill says, “but if you’re planning for a zombie apocalypse, I’d like prior warning.”
Mike stares at him. “How can-you know what, I don’t wanna know.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.
Bill jabs a finger into his chest. “You’re freaking me out.”
“What?”
“You’ve been a mess for weeks, and now you clipped your beard - to attractive lengths, might I add - and you’ve got these secret, zombie apocalypse grins. You know, like the ones Gerard Way was sporting during Warped five years ago, when we stumbled onto his shiny yet disturbing hidden collection of machetes.” Bill wraps a hand around Mike’s neck and touches their foreheads together. “Butcher has expressed worry to me.”
“Butcher thinks I’m an alien,” Mike says.
Bill sighs. “Butcher thinks you’re sad.”
Something tightens around Mike’s heart. Fucking Butcher. They’re all douches, but he loves these guys. “I’m fine.”
“Suddenly you’re fine. Poof.” Bill does jazz hands. “We’ve only got a couple choices here. Recreational drugs, zombie apocalypse-oh my god, you’ve killed Em.”
“Bill. First of all-” Mike actually can’t bring himself to tell Bill how wrong all of that is, but that’s mostly because of the look on Bill’s face - Bill doesn’t believe any of it either, he’s just trying to trick Mike into telling him what’s really going on.
Mike wavers barely a minute before giving up; this is only going to get more ridiculous, otherwise. He wordlessly gives Bill his phone.
Bill’s eyebrows go quizzical, but he flips it open. He stares at it a second, then Mike sees him go for the inbox. Mike knows what he’ll find.
“Hmmm,” Bill says. A smile grows on his mouth - it gets bigger as he scrolls through Mike’s messages. “Well.”
“Yeah,” Mike says. He can feel a faint blush on his cheeks.
“This is adorable.”
“Thanks.” Mike tries to frown. It’s surprisingly really, really hard.
“He’s internet stalking you, you realize.”
“I figured.” Kevin knows way too much random shit about their band. Fair’s fair, though - Mike’s been internet stalking Kevin, too. Mike’s watched Bounce more times than he’ll ever admit, and he finds it funny even with the distinct lack of Kevin in it. He thinks if he didn’t want in Kevin’s pants, Joe would be his favorite, and that Bill’s probably right - Nick would be really fun to fuck with. It’s embarrassing, how much Jonas Brothers shit he has saved in his delicious account.
Bill snaps the cell shut. “I approve,” he says.
Mike stares at him. “Good,” he says dryly. “’Cause, you know, I was worried.”
*
Mike forgets to turn his phone off, but it’s not like anyone’s paying attention to him anyway. Kevin texts, aren’t u on the radio? when Mike immediately sends, hey, back to Kevin’s, howdy
Bill leans over his shoulder while he types, though, and the DJ notices, and Bill, who is a giant douchebag, says, “He’s texting his significant other,” when the DJ asks what they’re doing.
Mike snorts.
The DJ grins and says, “So are any of you still single?”
Bill says, “Butcher and Siska, unless you count all the hot monkey sex they’re having with each other.”
The DJ obviously doesn’t know if they’re joking or not; he smiles gamely at them, but his eyes are darting back and forth. They’re not joking - Siska and Butcher are fucking, Mike has to share a bus with them - but at the same time Bill’s not being serious about it.
Butcher rings an arm around Bill’s neck and wrestles him off his chair. “It’s not nice to spill all our big gay secrets on air, Billvy,” he says, while Siska’s shouting about getting gay married in the background, and Bill laughs so hard he starts coughing, face mashed into the thin carpet.
Mike leans into the mic and says, “Sorry, folks.”
And then Bill grabs his ankle and yanks him down.
*
It takes Mike the rest of the day to realize Kevin is ignoring him. He’s just not entirely sure why.
Bill stomps up onto his bus, waving his cell in the air. “It’s the very height of Disney ridiculousness,” he says.
“What is?” Mike asks, without looking up from his phone. He figures the last text he got from Kevin was during the radio interview, right before Butcher attacked Bill. Huh.
Bill says, “A masked ball. Princess Selena called me, the costumes are expected to be lavish. We’ll have our work cut out for us.”
Mike blinks up at him. “What?”
Bill taps his finger on his bottom lip. “I’m thinking something green. It’ll bring out your eyes. Good thing your hair’s nearly grown out again.”
“The fuck?”
“Well, it’ll be sweeter clubbed, you see, just a tie at the back of your neck.” Bill pulls his own hair back. “It’s the style, Selena says think gothic Victorian. I actually have little to no idea what that looks like, but I think we can fake it.”
Mike’s getting an idea of what’s going on. “You want us to crash a Disney ball?”
“It’s a grand gesture type of thing,” Bill says. “Siska’s the one who suggested it, but Selena says she’ll help.”
Mike looks back down at his phone. He’s about to be all vulnerable and shit, ask Bill if he thinks Kevin will want him there, but he shakes it off. He’s totally not that fucking pathetic, just because Kevin hasn’t said anything all day. He’s probably busy. “When is it?” he asks.
“A few weeks,” Bill says. “We’ll be barely an hour away, and it’s one of our travel days. We’ll just skip a hotel night, drive through, crash, hopefully not burn, you can smooch your new man and I can properly stalk Nick, it’ll be fun for everyone.”
Mike nods, slowly. He types, I think bill has designs on your bros virtue, and sends it to Kevin.
It takes an hour to get a response, but he gets a response. A knot he didn’t know he had loosens in his chest, but travels up to stranglehold his throat. Which one? it says, bc joe’ll be all over that
Mike laughs a little. I’ll let bill know
*
V. pantaloons
It’s the anniversary of High School Musical or Sonny With A Chance’s hundredth episode or something - Kevin hadn’t really paid attention when they’d told him, but he isn’t complaining.
Kevin isn’t gonna lie, he likes the fancy costumes. They’re even letting him wear a feathered cap. He’s all in white and gold, with a stiff collar and these braided things on his shoulders and his boots have heels, which he loves; they make a clicky sound as he walks down the corridor.
Nick is miserable in several shades of blue, but only, Kevin knows, because he’d wanted to wear the crown.
Joe gets to wear the crown. He’s in seafoam and silver and the tails of his coat flutter when he walks. Joe is preening.
Kevin understands, he’s on the verge of preening, too - he’s got a feather in his cap. It swoops down around his face and it’s so soft, and it totally makes up for the itchy domino over his eyes.
“Ugh, I hate this,” Selena says, tugging on the hem of her fitted top. Her skirt is so wide she squishes Kevin into the wall when she steps up next to him. She grimaces. “Sorry.” Gathering her skirts into her arms, she flashes most of her legs up to mid-thigh, and Joe wolf-whistles.
Nick kicks him in the shin.
“Ow,” Joe says, hopping around on one foot.
“My hero,” Selena says dryly, but she leans over and pecks Nick on the cheek.
“Why are we doing this again?” Nick says, grumbling.
“Because it’s Sterling Knight’s birthday.”
“Wait, we’re having a masked ball for Chad Dylan Cooper’s sweet sixteenth?” Joe says.
“He’s twenty-two, jerk,” Selena says. “Now help me find Demi. I need to get these shoes off yesterday or I’m really gonna hurt someone.”
Joe leans into Kevin and stage-whispers, “Didn’t we just have a pizza party for Nick’s last birthday?”
“There were balloon animals,” Kevin says. “We let Frankie plan it, remember?”
“Hell, yeah. The balloon animals were kickass.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Nick says, scowling at them.
“Oh, you loved it,” Joe says. “You had a crown. Bet you wish you had a balloon crown now, huh? Not as cool as my-ow, stop, stop, watch the hair, dude!”
Joe and Nick wrestle each other into a wall, and Kevin stands next to Selena and just watches, because he doesn’t want to risk ripping his brocade waistcoat, and his pants are really tight and Kevin doesn’t want to test the seams - Sterling would never let him live it down if he flashed all of Disney’s darlings at his birthday party. Actually, neither would Nick. Or Joe, but for entirely different reasons; it’d be like that time Joe auctioned off his ruined white pants and half a salami sandwich he’d bit into on eBay, along with the picture that proved Kevin’d been the one who’d gotten the mustard everywhere.
But really, “Who gets a masked ball for their birthday party?” Even when Kevin had turned twenty-one he’s pretty sure all he’d gotten was a card from Mickey Mouse and a voicemail from some PR guy that used the words soused and windowless basement - he’s pretty sure Joe got the same thing for his last two birthdays, too, but Joe makes his own fun; he’d basically disappeared for three days with Nicole and Demi and the bassist from The Scene.
“Chad Dylan Cooper is the boy all tweens love to hate,” Selena says, wincing as Joe slams an elbow back into Nick’s throat. Then she grins wonkily up at Kevin. “Plus, he’s super cute.”
*
Kevin actually likes Sterling. He runs into him at the buffet and Sterling gives him a fist-bump and says, “Dude, check out my cape.”
Kevin briefly thinks that maybe guys in their twenties shouldn’t be that excited about capes, but then he thinks, heck yeah, capes, and wishes he had one, too. “It’s pretty sweet,” Kevin says. “I like the way it shimmers.”
“It’s the same material as my pants.”
“Cool.” Kevin finds satisfaction in having a valid excuse to look at Sterling Knight’s pants. Selena was right, he’s super cute. Kevin doesn’t know why it took him this long to realize he was gay, it’s kind of sad.
When he looks up again, he spots Bill - unmistakably Bill - over Sterling’s shoulder. “Oh no,” he says. Bill has on lots of pink. Lots and lots of pink, he looks like strawberry ice cream, and his cheeks are flushed below his mask and he’s dancing with Selena, and Kevin stares long and hard at them, because he knows if he takes his eyes off Bill he’s going to see Mike, and Kevin is wearing pantaloons, and buckled boots, and a feathered cap - all awesome things, yes, but Mike is a rock star, he doesn’t think he’d appreciate Kevin’s look.
Of course, Bill’s a rock star, too, and his shirt has ruffles.
“What’s wrong, man?” Sterling says around a mouthful of crackers and cheese.
“Um. Nothing,” Kevin says. “I just have to-” He gestures past him, away, toward the restrooms or the chocolate fountain or whatever, and Sterling nods.
“Sure, Jonas, see you,” he says, and Kevin just barely remembers to toss, “Happy birthday,” over his shoulder as he hurries off.
He edges the room, scanning the crowd nervously. On one end, he spots Siska spiking the punch, surreptitiously splashing clear liquid out of a hipflask. He finds Butcher and Michael Guy and Naomi on the dance floor, not far from Bill, with a visibly flustered Nicole as Butcher grabs hold of her waist and-twirls. It’s pretty funny, actually.
He doesn’t know where Mike is, and the more he doesn’t see him, the more he wants to, even dressed like he is. He tugs off his domino - it’s probably against the rules, but his face is sweating, it’s really gross - and taps his foot and stares down at the tiled floor, wondering what he’s supposed to do next.
“Hey, Prince Charming.”
Kevin jerks his head up. “Siska.”
“Nice hat.” Siska smirks and reaches out and flicks Kevin’s feather.
“Thanks,” Kevin says, frowning.
“So we got your belle to the ball,” Siska says, “but he’s a little shy.”
Kevin stares at him. Siska’s a little mischievous around the eyes, but he mostly seems serious. “What?”
“Not all of us can rock the-whatever the hell these are,” Siska says, plucking at the fabric over his thighs.
“Pantaloons,” Kevin says faintly.
“You knowing that makes so much sense,” Siska says. Then he grabs hold of Kevin’s shoulders - like before, Kevin gets a quick flash of déjà vu - and spins him around and there-there. Mike. Skulking around the restroom alcove, arms crossed, domino tugged down off his face and around his neck; he’s half-caught in the shadow of a huge, overgrown potted plant.
There’s a second when their eyes catch, when Mike sighs and shifts and drops his arms. Kevin can see Siska’s vision now, from before - this could totally be a fairytale; Mike’s a shining knight in dark green, with these awesomely tight pants and tall black boots and a bow in his hair. Kevin tries very hard not to swoon when Mike takes a step toward him, and then another.
“Oh,” Kevin says, light, like he doesn’t have enough air to breathe.
Siska pounds him on the back. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
Siska is the best fairy godmother ever.
*
Mike looks awkward. Clearly he looks awesome - he’s clean shaven again, and Kevin likes the longer hair, even the way it’s combed and pulled back - but he definitely looks awkward, too, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his feet or his whole body.
“I’d ask you to dance,” Mike says, “but that’s probably a bad idea.”
Kevin wants to say it’s not, but it’s kind of like the split seams thing; only there’s a time and place, and there’s never a time and place for split seams. “We can-do you want to go outside?” It’s sort of stifling in there, Kevin wants to unbutton his shirt, but he doesn’t really want to disturb his ascot.
Mike nods, and Kevin doesn’t really know where they’re going - the place is a maze - but they silently wind down corridors, side-by-side, until they somehow end up on an open parapet, surveying the Kingdom, all the way down Main Street, USA. It looks like the lights stretch on forever. There are crowds already gathering for the fireworks, clumps of people left over from the parade. The air smells like hotdogs.
“So,” Kevin says.
Mike ducks his head. “You got a little weird.”
“I-” Kevin doesn’t deny it, even though he wants to. It’s hard; having this huge crush on a guy who seems accessible and not at the same time. He doesn’t really hold it against Mike, even though he maybe should - he doesn’t know, maybe they’re open like that, but Kevin doesn’t want to fool around with a guy who has a girlfriend. Tonight, though-it’s really, really hard to remember why.
Mike has hard angles and intense eyes and he has warm, calloused hands that are currently cupping the curve of Kevin’s jaw.
Kevin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and moves away.
Mike’s hands drops. “What?” He sounds defensive, and when Kevin looks at him again his eyes are flat.
“You have a girlfriend,” Kevin says.
Mike blinks, like he didn’t think that was what Kevin was going to say. He says, “I don’t.”
“You-” Kevin shakes his head. “On the radio. Bill said you were-” He swallows hard. “Your significant other, Mike.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike says, moving closer to Kevin again, shackling his wrist when Kevin takes a step back. He pins him to the parapet wall, hands over his hands on the stone. “Who was I texting?”
When Kevin breathes, their chests touch. Kevin’s having trouble thinking clearly. “Who-?”
Mike leans in, says through clenched teeth. “Who was I texting, Jonas?”
“Me,” Kevin says shakily. “Me and your girl-”
Mike says, “Are you-he was talking about you, you moron!” He drops his forehead onto Kevin’s shoulder with a groan. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”
“But, um. Okay?” He stops himself from saying, ‘I read that you did,’ because Kevin’s read a lot of things about Mike. The internet is a font of information, most of it erroneous - unless Mike really does eat babies, but Kevin has his doubts. He also doesn’t say that Nick’s been frowning over his whatever-this-is with Mike from the start, and that, thanks to Nick, Kevin knows that Em is Australian and pretty and looks awesome in crop-tops - none of which Kevin can boast.
Nick means well, but any way you slice it, if Siska’s their fairy godmother, then Nick is the evil queen. Kevin suddenly finds that hilarious. He bites his lip, holding back laughter, but he can’t keep his body from shaking. It’s funny.
Mike shifts back, looks concerned for a whole second before quirking one side of his mouth up. “Are you laughing at me, Jonas?”
“No.” Kevin twists his hands out from under Mike’s and brings them up to clutch the front of Mike’s jacket. “Siska thinks you’re my Disney princess.”
“Siska’s gonna get his ass kicked, then,” Mike says, absently. He’s staring at Kevin’s mouth.
“I don’t know. The castle, the moon, the stars,” Kevin says. He can hear faint traces of music from the ballroom drifting up toward them. It sounds like Hips Don’t Lie, but Kevin isn’t going to be picky. “He was pretty adamant about having a fairytale ending.”
“You know most fairytales actually have a lot of death and gore in them. We could have that kind of ending.” Mike tugs on Kevin’s feather. “Or we could make out.”
Kevin is still nervous about that part - the making out part, even though they’ve done it before, and Kevin definitely wants to do it again. He fidgets against Mike and licks his lips. “Um.”
“Nice,” Mike says, and then he kisses him.
He kisses him just as Tinkerbell flies by on her zip line, and Kevin closes his eyes on the first bursts of explosive colors, and it’s possibly an even more ridiculous moment than when he’d given Danielle the glass slippers. He’s glad there’s no one there to witness it, this time - Kevin wants this all to himself.
*
“You guys are so gross,” Joe says. He makes a bleh face, like he’s eight years old and afraid of getting cooties. Kevin knows it’s not a guy thing - the bassist from The Scene a case in point - but no one wants to see their brother get some; Kevin would rather stab himself blind than watch Nick and Selena tongue kiss, or watch Joe do whatever he does to his dates that makes them smile so big afterwards - Kevin doesn’t even want to think about it.
He makes his own bleh face.
Mike pokes him in the stomach. “Hey, necking here.”
“Did you just say necking?” Joe asks, big-eyed, and Mike grabs the first thing he can get his hands on - it happens to be Selena’s latest CD, which Kevin loves - and pegs it across the room at him.
“You’re buying me a new one,” Kevin says, watching sadly as the CD hits Joe and splinters. Joe yelps and ducks out of the room.
“Buy it yourself, rich boy,” Mike says. He pulls Kevin onto his lap and starts licking his throat again, which is one of Kevin’s favorite things; Mike’s mouth is magic.
Kevin digs his hands into Mike’s hair. He shivers and presses closer, says, “Mike,” and then Nick stomps into the room, waving a magazine and yells some things like, “Blah, blah, blah, Mike, blah, Mike, blah, blah,” because Kevin can’t be expected to pay attention to anything when Mike has his hands up his shirt.
Mike says, “I hate your brothers,” against Kevin’s neck. He sighs, a warm, damp gust of breath that completely blanks Kevin’s mind.
When he blinks back into the conversation, Mike is pushing Kevin off his lap and saying, “What, for real?” as he rips the mag out of Nick’s hand - Nick looks like he’s having an apoplexy; his face is all funny and blotchy-red.
“Huh,” Mike says.
“What?” Kevin asks, leaning forward. He hooks his chin over Mike’s shoulder.
Mike pulls away a little and glances at him. “What do you think?”
What does he think? It’s a picture of them in the center of US Weekly, it looks like, in the people scene section. “It’s not that bad,” Kevin says. “The wind is doing great things with your hair.”
Nick makes a sound like an enraged bull. “It looks like you’re holding hands!”
“Well, that’s because we are,” Mike says calmly, and Kevin sort of loves him, right then. He’s kind of totally in love with him, really.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s afraid his dreamy eyes will betray him.
Mike gives him a crooked smile.
“So, you’re-” Nick sputters a little, “you don’t care?”
Kevin holds Mike’s gaze and shrugs. “It’ll come out sooner or later,” he says, and sees Mike’s smile grow. He turns and looks at Nick. “They didn’t even catch it, Nick, or else we wouldn’t be in people scene.”
“It’d be front page news,” Joe says, slipping back into the room. “You two are sweet, geez, all the girls would eat up a big gay coming out.”
“Joe,” Nick says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I was all for doing it before remember.” Joe leans against the doorjamb - he’s wearing his jacket sleeves rolled up, like he’s on Miami Vice, Kevin’s pretty sure that means he’s got a date - and says, “And now it’ll be better, because Kevin’s totally dating his celebrity crush.”
Mike chokes on a laugh. “Kev?”
Kevin flushes, embarrassed, but he grins at him and says, “I’m dating my celebrity crush. I’m like Katie Holmes, only you’re not crazy and in a cult.”
Mike waggles his eyebrows. “How do you know?”
Kevin wouldn’t put the whole cult thing past Pete Wentz, actually, but he realizes that he doesn’t care. “Just so long as you don’t make me drink the Kool-Aid,” he says and kisses Mike so long his ears buzz, while Nick says, incredulously, “Are you making Jonestown jokes now?” in the background and Joe makes some retching sounds, and when they come back up for air, Mike has stunned, glazed eyes and they’re alone again.
“I really don’t care, you know,” Kevin says. “About the picture.”
Mike swipes his thumb along his jaw. He says, “I know. Me neither.”
*
Epilogue: at least it’s not a sex tape
Bill thinks it’s hysterical. Mike is not surprised about this.
Bill laughs and laughs and laughs, and Mike’s a good sport about it; he punches him in the shoulder instead of the face.
“It’s not that funny, dickwad,” Mike says.
“It’s pretty funny,” Siska says.
Kevin grins at them. “The last time I was on TMZ there was a still of me picking my nose,” he says, and Bill laughs even harder, Mike didn’t think that was possible.
Mike hunches further into the couch and scowls.
Kevin nudges their arms together. “Come on. It’s not that bad.”
“This was months ago, how did they even get this?” Mike doesn’t understand. There, frozen on the screen - because Bill’s still a giant douchebag and he keeps rewinding the DVR - is a shaky cell phone video of Mike pinning Kevin to the wall of Cinderella’s Castle. Who could have even shot that?
Butcher holds up his hands. “Don’t look at us, dude. I think I had Siska in the bathroom by that point.” He leers at Siska, and Kevin makes that eww sound that never fails to make Mike smile.
Mike manfully holds his lips steady.
Bill stops giggling into his hands long enough to hit Play again.
There’s some clothes rustling and panting and Kevin saying, “Mike.” They look like two Regency romance novel rejects, it’s so fucking embarrassing. The helpful TMZ voiceover just makes Mike want to never go out in public again.
Kevin suddenly sits up straighter and says, “Wait,” and, “Rewind that again.”
Mike drops his head back and groans and silently asks the ceiling, why me?
Bill gleefully hits the back button, then plays it from the beginning.
“There’s a-” Kevin points at the screen. “That! I know that laugh.” It’s a barely there chuckle, like an evil heh. “Frankie.”
“Frankie? Your ten-year-old brother, Frankie? That Frankie?” Mike likes Frankie - he’s a cool little dude, Mike’s started him on a kickass collection of random tees. “Was he planning on living to see eleven?”
“Frank has a really loose interpretation of pranks,” Kevin says. “I once helped him convince Joe he had crabs.”
Everyone pauses.
Bill kind of looks like he wants to laugh some more, but it’s so bizarre, he seems caught in a thoughtful frown instead. “I think I want to meet this Jonas. He may be my new favorite.”
Kevin leans his head on Mike’s shoulder as Bill starts the TV again, this time letting it play on. He says, “It’s really not so bad.”
Mike grunts. It’s not like Perez hadn’t outted them the month before. Not meanly, surprisingly, because apparently Kevin’s a darling, and Mike’s a gentleman - what the fuck? - and there are poll results up on E! comprised almost entirely by twelve-year-old girls who want them to get married on a miniature pony farm in Vermont. And then make out a lot in front of them.
They’ve gotten half their wish.
Mike threads their hands together, rests them on his knee. It’s really not that bad.
Siska says, “And, hey. At least it’s not a sex tape.”