Bandslash fic: Dancing Goes All Night
Dancing Goes All Night | PG | 2,000+
Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas | Coda to Dancing Without Warning
The thing is, if they’d wanted him to actually pay attention to the interview, they shouldn’t have sat him next to the lady with the polar bear cub.
A/N: THIS IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF SCHMOOP. Must needs have read Dancing Without Warning first, obviously. Title still comes from The Art of Dancing by Bronx Cheerleader. Unbeta’d fluff, written in a couple hours, so please point out any mistakes :)
Dancing Goes All Night
The thing is, if they’d wanted him to actually pay attention to the interview, they shouldn’t have sat him next to the lady with the polar bear cub.
*
“Oh, shit,” Bill says, eyes wide on his laptop. His mouth’s twitching at the corners.
Mike says, “What?”
“Nothing. Just, uh, have you talked to your Jonas today?”
Mike arches an eyebrow at him over the rim of his coffee mug. It’s, like, fucking six-thirty in the morning. He has no idea why he’s even awake. He really hates early morning interviews, even if they’re only phoning in.
Bill bites his lip and giggles.
*
The cub’s adorable, with soft-looking white fur, yellow at the ends around its fat paws and muzzle and blue, blue eyes. He’s got his front paws pressed up against a bottle and he’s making these little grunty noises and his round little belly’s grumbling and it’s seriously so cute. Hardcore cute, Kevin just wants to reach out and touch, but he’s not sure he’s allowed to.
Nick jostles his arm, and Kevin flicks his gaze back to Leno, nodding his head like he’s just heard everything that everyone’s said, even though his brain’s on repeat: baby bear, baby bear, oh geez, so cute
They should know better, really. Kevin has such a weakness for fuzzy baby animals, but who doesn’t, right?
*
Bill’s half-laughing, but Siska looks a little pained, leaning over Bill’s shoulder.
“It’s really not that funny,” Siska says. “Or, you know, at all.”
“Come on,” Bill says. He’s got a big, goofy grin on his face. “This is classic. So classic it’s a cliché, you can’t say you didn’t see this coming.”
Mike rubs at the stubble across his jaw. It’s too early for this shit. “Maybe if I knew what the fuck you were talking about.”
*
So he doesn’t mean to say it, but it’s not like he’s even been playing the pronoun game all these months, or denying he’s in a relationship or anything. It’s just that normally they ask Joe these questions and Kevin just bobs his head and smiles and doesn’t volunteer anything about his awesome boyfriend, Mike, who’s in a rock band and who’s super hot and funny and clever and- Kevin’s in love with him, so he’s allowed to be this much of a sap, no matter what Joe says.
It’s just that he probably shouldn’t have said that on air, to millions of viewers. Not that he did, of course. At least, not all of it.
*
“What?” Mike grabs the laptop away from Bill. “What?”
*
It’s a cute baby polar bear cub and it’s gnawing on its bottle and its little bear butt is practically in Kevin’s lap - he’s still keeping his hands to himself, those baby teeth look sharp - so when Leno asks, “Any plans for the holidays?” and Nick nudges his arm again, Kevin’s half-watching the cub as he says, “Mike’s having me for Christmas,” which wouldn’t have been so bad, if Nick hadn’t choked out, “Kev,” and Joe hadn’t snickered and Leno hadn’t raised his eyebrows and asked, “And Mike is?”
*
Mike’s not really sure if he’s upset or not, but whoever the fuck sat Kevin next to the adorable baby polar bear is gonna have Mike’s shoe so far up their ass they’ll be picking leather out of their teeth for weeks.
*
“My boy-” Kevin cuts off with a sudden and terrifying clarity of just where he is and who he’s talking to and how many people are listening. “Uh oh.”
*
Mike pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not so bad,” Siska says awkwardly.
“It’s wonderful,” Bill says. He’s practically clapping his hands with glee. Mike’s ten seconds away from punching him in the face.
“I mean,” Siska says, “he didn’t say Mike who.”
*
Nick looks constipated, but Joe’s hysterical, he’s laughing so hard. Kevin doesn’t think it’s funny at all. Mike’s going to kill him, and he doesn’t even want to think about Disney.
Leno looks bemused, and quickly cuts to a commercial break; probably because Kevin’s bright red and close to hyperventilating - and what he really, really needs is Mike or a giant sedative or an anvil to drop on his head.
He clenches his hands in his lap and breathes through his nose.
*
Mike watches the YouTube clip of the interview five times, and each time he gets less and less mad about it, because each time Kevin’s stricken look - right at the end, right when he realizes what he’s said - slices more and more of his insides to ribbons, leaving his throat almost too raw to swallow.
Bill stops grinning idiotically long enough to catch Mike’s chin in his hand, shaking Mike’s head.
“Don’t be an asshole,” he says, like he knows exactly what Mike’s thinking.
*
“We never talked about this,” Kevin says quietly.
Nick sighs. “It’s okay.” He says it like it’s not okay, but they’ll deal.
And Kevin knows they’ll deal, that’s not what he’s worried about, not really. Yeah, it’s probably gonna suck, but, “I never talked to Mike about this,” Kevin says.
“He’s not going to care,” Joe says. He’s absently chucking guitar picks at a trashcan in the corner of their dressing room. “He called you his love muffin in that episode of TAI TV.”
“He was joking,” Kevin says. And he’d clearly said it under duress, for Bill, and every single one of their fans thought they were making fun of him - which he really sort of was.
Kevin thinks there’s a part of Mike that will never take him seriously.
*
Mike can be kind of an asshole where Kevin’s concerned, but Kevin tends to be an oblivious douche, so they pretty much even each other out.
“Whatever you’re going to do,” Bill says, eyeing him narrowly. “I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” Siska asks.
Chiz yawns through something that sounds like, “What’s a good idea?” and Butcher’s got his face planted down on the little kitchenette table - Mike thinks he might have slept there - and he flashes them a thumbs-up.
*
Kevin calls Mike, but Mike doesn’t pick up, and he thinks maybe this isn’t the sort of bomb that should be dropped on voicemail. Mike’s a couple hours ahead of him, where they are. He bites at his nails and watches the clock and calls Mike at uneven intervals, but it rings and rings and rings and no one ever answers.
*
When Mike finally looks at his cell, he sees he’s got ten missed calls but no voicemails, and a sloppy text that came in just after five a.m.: ukno I lovee yu
Kevin likes to tell him that a lot. Mike’ll say it, too, but he’s not compulsive about it. He doesn’t feel the need to end every conversation with it or anything, but he gets it. He gets how it’s the ultimate fix, sometimes, especially when he knows it’s a reason as well as an apology.
*
The Jerry lets himself into their suite and drops a stuffed polar bear onto Kevin’s lap.
Kevin says, “I hate you,” but he buries his fingers in the soft plush and presses his nose to the bear’s and says, “I think I’ll call you Mookie.”
*
Mike doesn’t tell Kevin to listen. Kevin probably knows he has an interview, and he might have time to catch it on the web, but he might not, given everything.
Mike doesn’t care.
He can tell him everything later, if he has to.
*
Kevin doesn’t turn his cell off. He should, it’s been going off non-stop, but he doesn’t want to miss Mike if he calls. He hits ignore for everyone, even his parents, and Nick gives him this long-suffering sigh and unplugs the hotel phone.
“It’s late,” Nick says. “Or early, I guess.” He looks tired, but he doesn’t look sleepy. He slumps down next to Kevin on the couch.
“Sorry,” Kevin says dejectedly, staring at his hands clasped loosely in his lap.
“Oh, hey, no.” Nick bumps their shoulders together.
They sit in silence for a few minutes; Joe’s snoring on the other side of the room. He’s sprawled on the floor, head at an awkward angle. He’s got Mookie in the crook of an elbow.
Finally, Nick chuckles. He says, “I can’t believe you accidentally came out on Leno.”
“It’s not funny,” Kevin says, but his mouth’s threatening a grin. It’s so stupid and lame and he’s never ever going to live it down.
Nick laughs harder, curls into Kevin’s side. “It really kind of is.”
*
Bill’s basically the only one awake enough to make any sense, so it ends up being mostly him and Mike, Bill’s cell phone on speaker in between them at the kitchenette table.
Butcher’s still slumped over it, one hand curled around a coffee cup, a cigarette hanging unlit, stuck to his bottom lip.
Mike isn’t really paying attention to the DJ. At least, not until Bill cuts into whatever he’s saying to ask, “Aren’t you curious about how we’re spending our holidays?”
There’s an awkward pause, and then the DJ says, “Uh, sure, what are you guys going to be up to?”
“Well, I’ll be busy being fantastic in Chicago,” Bill says, then arches an eyebrow at Mike. “Mike?”
Mike arches an eyebrow right back, and doesn’t even hesitate on, “I’m having Kevin over for Christmas.”
“Oh?” Bill says, ignoring the DJ’s attempt to interrupt. “And who’s Kevin?”
Siska groans behind them. “Seriously, Bill,” he says, but Mike just grins with half his mouth and says, “That would be my boyfriend.”
*
There’s a contingent on the internet that believes Kevin meant ‘my boy’ in the friend sense.
“Yeah, you and Mike are tight, bro,” Joe says from the floor, and then Nick kicks him in the head and Joe grabs hold of his ankle and bites his calf and Kevin has to shout for The Jerry to come save his baby polar bear from epic ruin.
*
Mike doesn’t really have the same fan base as Kevin, but they’ve been seen together often enough that he doesn’t think it’ll be very long before his fans, at least, figure it all out. He’s not worried either way, though.
“Half the web thinks you’re beffies,” Bill says.
“That’s fine,” Mike says. He doesn’t see how they could, but that’s really just fine.
“The other half thinks Kevin’s boning Zac Efron.”
That, Mike thinks, is not fine. “What the fuck?”
Bill grins at him brightly. “And then the other half-”
“Your math skills astound me,” Butcher says absently. He’s busy coloring Siska’s skin with magic markers.
“-seem to actually know who you are.”
*
“Huh,” Joe says around a pretzel stick. He’s clicking at his laptop with one finger.
“What?” Kevin asks. He’s finally run out of nervous energy; the only thing keeping him awake, at this point, is the cell clutched in his hand - he’s still waiting for Mike.
Joe just smiles and says, “LiveJournal picspams are awesome.”
*
“Do you prefer the term Mevin or Kichael?” Bill asks. He’s got his glasses on, perched at the end of his nose, fingers glancing quickly off the laptop keys as he types.
“I prefer not knowing what the hell you’re doing. Ever.” Mike has an idea; he just doesn’t want to think about it.
“I never realized there were this many photos of you together,” Bill says.
Mike rolls his eyes. The thing is, they never really tried to hide. They don’t actually make a whole lot of sense together, though, not on the surface, so it’s not like anyone ever bothered looking.
*
It’s at the point, really, where Kevin thinks Mike’s actually mad. Like, angry enough to never talk to him again, and that’s something Kevin’s never considered before, but he guesses it’s a possibility.
“It’s not a big deal,” Nick says after Kevin’s poked him awake with his toes. “He’s not mad; he’s probably still sleeping.” He finishes his sentence meaningfully and glares at Kevin’s toes, like he’s thinking about cutting them off and stuffing them inside Kevin’s mouth.
Joe snickers, still hunched over his laptop. “Yeah, Kev,” he says, “I really don’t think he’s mad.”
*
“Face shirts are the new promise rings,” Bill shouts as Mike ducks into the back of the bus, sliding into his bunk.
Mike thinks whoever set Bill up with a fucking Cafe Press account should be shot repeatedly in the groin area. And what Mike needs to do right now is go back to sleep for many more hours, wake up some time in the afternoon, eat some Pop Tarts, and then get blind stinking drunk. This is his plan for the day.
First, though, he digs his cell out of his pocket.
*
Kevin’s got Mookie on his chest and his phone resting on his neck. Only his parents and brothers and The Jerry and various higher-ups in the agency have his personal number, so the calls died down around dawn, after they’d realized they could just talk to Nick instead.
Nick’s voice is a tired hum in the background, and Joe’s fallen asleep again, face mashed into his keyboard. The lights are off, but there’s a wan thread of morning easing through the window blinds, making the room pink-gray and fuzzy to Kevin’s sleep-gritty eyes.
When his cell vibrates against his throat, Kevin’s slow to pick it up, slow to look at the screen.
One new text message, it says, and he thumbs through to see Mike’s name. His heartbeat catches and then speeds up.
hey kid, it says, and then, love u to
Next: In The Movement
Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas | Coda to Dancing Without Warning
The thing is, if they’d wanted him to actually pay attention to the interview, they shouldn’t have sat him next to the lady with the polar bear cub.
A/N: THIS IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF SCHMOOP. Must needs have read Dancing Without Warning first, obviously. Title still comes from The Art of Dancing by Bronx Cheerleader. Unbeta’d fluff, written in a couple hours, so please point out any mistakes :)
Dancing Goes All Night
The thing is, if they’d wanted him to actually pay attention to the interview, they shouldn’t have sat him next to the lady with the polar bear cub.
*
“Oh, shit,” Bill says, eyes wide on his laptop. His mouth’s twitching at the corners.
Mike says, “What?”
“Nothing. Just, uh, have you talked to your Jonas today?”
Mike arches an eyebrow at him over the rim of his coffee mug. It’s, like, fucking six-thirty in the morning. He has no idea why he’s even awake. He really hates early morning interviews, even if they’re only phoning in.
Bill bites his lip and giggles.
*
The cub’s adorable, with soft-looking white fur, yellow at the ends around its fat paws and muzzle and blue, blue eyes. He’s got his front paws pressed up against a bottle and he’s making these little grunty noises and his round little belly’s grumbling and it’s seriously so cute. Hardcore cute, Kevin just wants to reach out and touch, but he’s not sure he’s allowed to.
Nick jostles his arm, and Kevin flicks his gaze back to Leno, nodding his head like he’s just heard everything that everyone’s said, even though his brain’s on repeat: baby bear, baby bear, oh geez, so cute
They should know better, really. Kevin has such a weakness for fuzzy baby animals, but who doesn’t, right?
*
Bill’s half-laughing, but Siska looks a little pained, leaning over Bill’s shoulder.
“It’s really not that funny,” Siska says. “Or, you know, at all.”
“Come on,” Bill says. He’s got a big, goofy grin on his face. “This is classic. So classic it’s a cliché, you can’t say you didn’t see this coming.”
Mike rubs at the stubble across his jaw. It’s too early for this shit. “Maybe if I knew what the fuck you were talking about.”
*
So he doesn’t mean to say it, but it’s not like he’s even been playing the pronoun game all these months, or denying he’s in a relationship or anything. It’s just that normally they ask Joe these questions and Kevin just bobs his head and smiles and doesn’t volunteer anything about his awesome boyfriend, Mike, who’s in a rock band and who’s super hot and funny and clever and- Kevin’s in love with him, so he’s allowed to be this much of a sap, no matter what Joe says.
It’s just that he probably shouldn’t have said that on air, to millions of viewers. Not that he did, of course. At least, not all of it.
*
“What?” Mike grabs the laptop away from Bill. “What?”
*
It’s a cute baby polar bear cub and it’s gnawing on its bottle and its little bear butt is practically in Kevin’s lap - he’s still keeping his hands to himself, those baby teeth look sharp - so when Leno asks, “Any plans for the holidays?” and Nick nudges his arm again, Kevin’s half-watching the cub as he says, “Mike’s having me for Christmas,” which wouldn’t have been so bad, if Nick hadn’t choked out, “Kev,” and Joe hadn’t snickered and Leno hadn’t raised his eyebrows and asked, “And Mike is?”
*
Mike’s not really sure if he’s upset or not, but whoever the fuck sat Kevin next to the adorable baby polar bear is gonna have Mike’s shoe so far up their ass they’ll be picking leather out of their teeth for weeks.
*
“My boy-” Kevin cuts off with a sudden and terrifying clarity of just where he is and who he’s talking to and how many people are listening. “Uh oh.”
*
Mike pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not so bad,” Siska says awkwardly.
“It’s wonderful,” Bill says. He’s practically clapping his hands with glee. Mike’s ten seconds away from punching him in the face.
“I mean,” Siska says, “he didn’t say Mike who.”
*
Nick looks constipated, but Joe’s hysterical, he’s laughing so hard. Kevin doesn’t think it’s funny at all. Mike’s going to kill him, and he doesn’t even want to think about Disney.
Leno looks bemused, and quickly cuts to a commercial break; probably because Kevin’s bright red and close to hyperventilating - and what he really, really needs is Mike or a giant sedative or an anvil to drop on his head.
He clenches his hands in his lap and breathes through his nose.
*
Mike watches the YouTube clip of the interview five times, and each time he gets less and less mad about it, because each time Kevin’s stricken look - right at the end, right when he realizes what he’s said - slices more and more of his insides to ribbons, leaving his throat almost too raw to swallow.
Bill stops grinning idiotically long enough to catch Mike’s chin in his hand, shaking Mike’s head.
“Don’t be an asshole,” he says, like he knows exactly what Mike’s thinking.
*
“We never talked about this,” Kevin says quietly.
Nick sighs. “It’s okay.” He says it like it’s not okay, but they’ll deal.
And Kevin knows they’ll deal, that’s not what he’s worried about, not really. Yeah, it’s probably gonna suck, but, “I never talked to Mike about this,” Kevin says.
“He’s not going to care,” Joe says. He’s absently chucking guitar picks at a trashcan in the corner of their dressing room. “He called you his love muffin in that episode of TAI TV.”
“He was joking,” Kevin says. And he’d clearly said it under duress, for Bill, and every single one of their fans thought they were making fun of him - which he really sort of was.
Kevin thinks there’s a part of Mike that will never take him seriously.
*
Mike can be kind of an asshole where Kevin’s concerned, but Kevin tends to be an oblivious douche, so they pretty much even each other out.
“Whatever you’re going to do,” Bill says, eyeing him narrowly. “I’m behind you one hundred percent.”
“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” Siska asks.
Chiz yawns through something that sounds like, “What’s a good idea?” and Butcher’s got his face planted down on the little kitchenette table - Mike thinks he might have slept there - and he flashes them a thumbs-up.
*
Kevin calls Mike, but Mike doesn’t pick up, and he thinks maybe this isn’t the sort of bomb that should be dropped on voicemail. Mike’s a couple hours ahead of him, where they are. He bites at his nails and watches the clock and calls Mike at uneven intervals, but it rings and rings and rings and no one ever answers.
*
When Mike finally looks at his cell, he sees he’s got ten missed calls but no voicemails, and a sloppy text that came in just after five a.m.: ukno I lovee yu
Kevin likes to tell him that a lot. Mike’ll say it, too, but he’s not compulsive about it. He doesn’t feel the need to end every conversation with it or anything, but he gets it. He gets how it’s the ultimate fix, sometimes, especially when he knows it’s a reason as well as an apology.
*
The Jerry lets himself into their suite and drops a stuffed polar bear onto Kevin’s lap.
Kevin says, “I hate you,” but he buries his fingers in the soft plush and presses his nose to the bear’s and says, “I think I’ll call you Mookie.”
*
Mike doesn’t tell Kevin to listen. Kevin probably knows he has an interview, and he might have time to catch it on the web, but he might not, given everything.
Mike doesn’t care.
He can tell him everything later, if he has to.
*
Kevin doesn’t turn his cell off. He should, it’s been going off non-stop, but he doesn’t want to miss Mike if he calls. He hits ignore for everyone, even his parents, and Nick gives him this long-suffering sigh and unplugs the hotel phone.
“It’s late,” Nick says. “Or early, I guess.” He looks tired, but he doesn’t look sleepy. He slumps down next to Kevin on the couch.
“Sorry,” Kevin says dejectedly, staring at his hands clasped loosely in his lap.
“Oh, hey, no.” Nick bumps their shoulders together.
They sit in silence for a few minutes; Joe’s snoring on the other side of the room. He’s sprawled on the floor, head at an awkward angle. He’s got Mookie in the crook of an elbow.
Finally, Nick chuckles. He says, “I can’t believe you accidentally came out on Leno.”
“It’s not funny,” Kevin says, but his mouth’s threatening a grin. It’s so stupid and lame and he’s never ever going to live it down.
Nick laughs harder, curls into Kevin’s side. “It really kind of is.”
*
Bill’s basically the only one awake enough to make any sense, so it ends up being mostly him and Mike, Bill’s cell phone on speaker in between them at the kitchenette table.
Butcher’s still slumped over it, one hand curled around a coffee cup, a cigarette hanging unlit, stuck to his bottom lip.
Mike isn’t really paying attention to the DJ. At least, not until Bill cuts into whatever he’s saying to ask, “Aren’t you curious about how we’re spending our holidays?”
There’s an awkward pause, and then the DJ says, “Uh, sure, what are you guys going to be up to?”
“Well, I’ll be busy being fantastic in Chicago,” Bill says, then arches an eyebrow at Mike. “Mike?”
Mike arches an eyebrow right back, and doesn’t even hesitate on, “I’m having Kevin over for Christmas.”
“Oh?” Bill says, ignoring the DJ’s attempt to interrupt. “And who’s Kevin?”
Siska groans behind them. “Seriously, Bill,” he says, but Mike just grins with half his mouth and says, “That would be my boyfriend.”
*
There’s a contingent on the internet that believes Kevin meant ‘my boy’ in the friend sense.
“Yeah, you and Mike are tight, bro,” Joe says from the floor, and then Nick kicks him in the head and Joe grabs hold of his ankle and bites his calf and Kevin has to shout for The Jerry to come save his baby polar bear from epic ruin.
*
Mike doesn’t really have the same fan base as Kevin, but they’ve been seen together often enough that he doesn’t think it’ll be very long before his fans, at least, figure it all out. He’s not worried either way, though.
“Half the web thinks you’re beffies,” Bill says.
“That’s fine,” Mike says. He doesn’t see how they could, but that’s really just fine.
“The other half thinks Kevin’s boning Zac Efron.”
That, Mike thinks, is not fine. “What the fuck?”
Bill grins at him brightly. “And then the other half-”
“Your math skills astound me,” Butcher says absently. He’s busy coloring Siska’s skin with magic markers.
“-seem to actually know who you are.”
*
“Huh,” Joe says around a pretzel stick. He’s clicking at his laptop with one finger.
“What?” Kevin asks. He’s finally run out of nervous energy; the only thing keeping him awake, at this point, is the cell clutched in his hand - he’s still waiting for Mike.
Joe just smiles and says, “LiveJournal picspams are awesome.”
*
“Do you prefer the term Mevin or Kichael?” Bill asks. He’s got his glasses on, perched at the end of his nose, fingers glancing quickly off the laptop keys as he types.
“I prefer not knowing what the hell you’re doing. Ever.” Mike has an idea; he just doesn’t want to think about it.
“I never realized there were this many photos of you together,” Bill says.
Mike rolls his eyes. The thing is, they never really tried to hide. They don’t actually make a whole lot of sense together, though, not on the surface, so it’s not like anyone ever bothered looking.
*
It’s at the point, really, where Kevin thinks Mike’s actually mad. Like, angry enough to never talk to him again, and that’s something Kevin’s never considered before, but he guesses it’s a possibility.
“It’s not a big deal,” Nick says after Kevin’s poked him awake with his toes. “He’s not mad; he’s probably still sleeping.” He finishes his sentence meaningfully and glares at Kevin’s toes, like he’s thinking about cutting them off and stuffing them inside Kevin’s mouth.
Joe snickers, still hunched over his laptop. “Yeah, Kev,” he says, “I really don’t think he’s mad.”
*
“Face shirts are the new promise rings,” Bill shouts as Mike ducks into the back of the bus, sliding into his bunk.
Mike thinks whoever set Bill up with a fucking Cafe Press account should be shot repeatedly in the groin area. And what Mike needs to do right now is go back to sleep for many more hours, wake up some time in the afternoon, eat some Pop Tarts, and then get blind stinking drunk. This is his plan for the day.
First, though, he digs his cell out of his pocket.
*
Kevin’s got Mookie on his chest and his phone resting on his neck. Only his parents and brothers and The Jerry and various higher-ups in the agency have his personal number, so the calls died down around dawn, after they’d realized they could just talk to Nick instead.
Nick’s voice is a tired hum in the background, and Joe’s fallen asleep again, face mashed into his keyboard. The lights are off, but there’s a wan thread of morning easing through the window blinds, making the room pink-gray and fuzzy to Kevin’s sleep-gritty eyes.
When his cell vibrates against his throat, Kevin’s slow to pick it up, slow to look at the screen.
One new text message, it says, and he thumbs through to see Mike’s name. His heartbeat catches and then speeds up.
hey kid, it says, and then, love u to
Next: In The Movement