The Twelve Days of Christmas
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
Author: onigaminanashi
Recipient: ink_on_the_page
Prompt: what happens on the day that Kevin realizes he's been with Mike for five (or six, ten, twenty, whatever) years? Alternately, It's christmas in the Carden-Jonas household. Please write me the christmas eve shenanigans! (i think my craving for established relationships and domestic-y fic is a bit obvious with these prompts. hmm.)
Notes: I don't own, I don't know! I've pretty much made everything up. This is an AU in which The Academy Is... is still a touring rock band, but that the Jonas Brothers own and run a bed and breakfast. 12 ficlets, ~3700 words total, in no order at all, not even chronological. Rated G to PG-13.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
The First Day of Christmas
“Take me to a bar. Get me somewhere, anywhere but here.” William sprawls out across the backseat of the cab, dripping water everywhere and leaving his bandmates to wrestle the luggage into the trunk.
“Fucking shove William.” Mike slaps at his lead singer’s leg until William slides across the backseat and Mike, Siska, and the Butcher pile in behind. Tony slides into the front seat, cell phone pressed to one ear.
“This is the West…ish. There has to be somewhere we can stay. All the hotels can’t be full. Seriously. I don’t give a flying fuck if it is Christmas Eve.”
“Happens every year. You’d think they’d be used to it by now.” Siska flops back, perched half on Mike and half on Butcher, crammed four abreast into the back.
“Hey,” Mike leans forward, dumping Sisky fully onto the Butcher. “You know a place that might have rooms open?” he asks the cabbie.
The driver grins into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya. Place is like 20 miles from here. Brought a group back from there this morning.”
“Just go.” Tony drags out his credit card. “Try not to crash and die.”
Mike blinks awake to see the cab parked in front of an older-looking blue house. Beside him, William stretches, freakishly long limbs snaking across Mike’s body.
“The fuck? I thought this dude said he knew a place. He take us home to kill us?”
“As long as he kills me in a bed.” William mutters and opens the car door to a gust of water-infused wind. “A warm bed.”
“Welcome to the Hotel California Bed & Breakfast!” The cabbie gleefully swipes Tony’s credit card and hardly waits for the group to extract themselves and their luggage before pulling away.
The front door flies open to a silhouette backed by warm yellow light and Tony mans up, shouldering his duffel and striding towards the light.
“Hi, do you guys have a reservation?” The shadow calls out, hurrying across the porch and down the stairs to the group. “No, of course you don’t, we’re not expecting any arrivals until after Christmas. Are you guys going to stay long?”
“Just until our flight is rescheduled. Is this a …hotel?” Tony asks warily, eyeing the house.
“It’s a bed and breakfast!” The man says cheerfully. “I’m Kevin Jonas, co-owner and cook. How can I- wait. Let’s not be stupid. Come inside before we all freeze to death and they don’t find us until spring thaw.”
Mike trades a look with William, eyebrow raised as they all follow Kevin into a living room/entry way/lobby kinda thing. Siska shuts the door behind them and without the wind whipping his hair into his eyes, Mike gets his first look at the co-owner.
“Well, shit.” Mike mutters.
The Second Day of Christmas
“So what is this shit again?” Mike eyes the groups of kids running around with paper bags full of sand.
“Luminaries.” Kevin explains patiently again. He loops his arm through Mike’s and threads his fingers into the fringe of the other man’s scarf.
“But what do they do?”
“It’s a Christmas Eve thing. We’ve been doing it for forever. You line the curbs with the bags and put sand and a tea candle in, then light them when it gets dark. It’s tradition.”
Mike turns away from the window and raises an eyebrow. Kevin quits humming snippits from Fiddler on the Roof and grins. “They’re really pretty when they’re all lit! And sometimes it gets foggy and they sort of glow all around, like halos-” Mike cuts Kevin off with a kiss, rolling his eyes fondly.
“I didn’t say I doubted that,” Mike murmurs into Kevin’s mouth. “But I can think of better ways to spend Christmas Eve…”
Kevin ducks his head, fighting a grin and worrying the fringe still wrapped around his fingers. “It’s tradition Mike. Tradition first, better ways later.”
The Third Day of Christmas
The group looks up from their various places across the living room as William sticks his head in the back door from the patio.
“So, how’s the turkey coming? Worth having to freeze your ass off to check the barbeque?” Chislett asks, shaking his head. “I still don’t get cold Thanksgivings or Christmases.”
“I believe,” William says grandly, “that Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite would be appropriate just now.”
“Why?” Nick asks and giggles, a bow stuck to the top of his head.
“The turkey’s on fire.”
Mike scrambles to his feet, cursing. “Seriously William? You set our dinner on fire?”
“Man the battle hoses! Summon the fire department!” William sweeps his hand back to allow the group out onto the covered porch.
“No, don’t!” Three or four voices cut William off. “Grease fire,” Siska adds. “Water makes it worse. I saw it on Mythbusters.”
The group stares at the turkey, flames flickering cheerfully.”
“Well…”
“This is new…”
Kevin races out from the kitchen, holding a small orange box and throws the contents onto the barbequed turkey in a white puff of baking powder and smoke. He gingerly turns the barbeque off and straightens to look at William.
Nick giggles, snapping a picture of the blackened bird on his cell phone and Kevin just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
“New rule for next year: no rock stars are allowed to cook.”
The Fourth Day of Christmas
“Daddy, you and Mommy are married, right?” Chislett’s youngest, Adele, looks up from the pile of brightly wrapped gifts escaping from under the tree.
“Yeah chickpea, why?”
“But Mommy’s a girl.” Adele frowns, all her attention drawn from the presents.
“Yeah, she is.” Chislett ignores the complete silence from behind that most likely signifies the rest of his band hoping she asks him about the birds and the bees.
“So why aren’t Uncle Mike and Uncle Kevin married too? Uncle Kevin wears pretty aprons like mommy sometimes.”
Kevin’s indignant sputtering gets drowned out by his brothers and the whole of The Academy Is… and their significant others breaking out into laughter.
“That’s sort of complicated baby. Just know that Uncle Kevin and Uncle Mike love each other like Daddy and I do.” Chislett’s wife steps in while the others try to stop laughing.
After presents and in the process of cleaning up the aftermath, Mike finds Kevin in the rarely-used formal living room, staring out the window.
“Did you ever want it?” Kevin asks abruptly, still looking through the glass. “A wedding and rings and kids and all that?”
“Never really thought about it. I had music.” Mike stands next to the window.
“I did. There were always weddings at the church and so either dad presided or we helped our or both. I sorta thought it’d be the best day of my life.” Kevin glances out of the corner of his eye at Mike.
“But then what?” Mike asks, voice tight. “To be honest here Kev, I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
“But then we moved out and moved here, stopped going to weddings every month. But then I met you. But then I found out having a home- being the home you come home to is enough.” Kevin stands, hands shoved into his pockets.
Mike stares, mouth open the tiniest bit of its own accord. “This- this is enough for you?”
Kevin shrugs a little. “My work is my home and my home makes me happy. It’s just an added bonus that it’s your home too. I mean, it is right? I’m not putting words into your-” Mike stops his words with a kiss, a simple meeting of lips.
“Yeah Kev. This is my home too.”
The Fifth Day of Christmas
“Whoever said ‘oh, hey guys, let’s get an office cat or two’ should be tried for crimes against humanity!” Kevin yelled, keeping the inquisitive kittens away from the broken shards of ceramic that used to be a coffee mug.
“Why Kevin, I believe that would have been… oh yeah. You.” Joe picks up a kitten in each hand and coos at them. “Did youses do that? Noooo… You little fuzzbutts couldn’t have done that, no sirree. Mean old daddy Kevin’s just grumpy because he needs a nap, yes he does.”
“But somebody just left them there! In a box!” Kevin protests half-heartedly as he brings out the small vacuum. He shuts it off and drops it as he turns to the closet and finds Mike leaning against the door.
“Cute, but I think I like the feather duster and French maid outfit more…” Mike smirks.
“What… How- you’re not supposed to be here for another two days!” Kevin picks up the vacuum and shoos Mike away from the closet door.
“I caught an earlier flight.” The guitarist shrugs. “Unless it’s a problem…”
“No! It’s no problem!” Kevin shuts the closet door a little harder than perhaps necessary and yelps when he’s pulled back against Mike’s chest by the belt loops.
“Hey, what’s up?” Mike asks, low and warm in Kevin’s ear.
“Nothing. Just a little …stressed.” Kevin closes his eyes as the sound of falling objects and breaking glass punctuates his last word.
Mike keeps his grip as Kevin tries to pull away to check the source of the noise. “Hey, nuh uh. Take a minute, you haven’t even said hi yet.”
“Hi.” Kevin says automatically. He reaches back for Mike’s wrist and squeezes. “Hi. Let me- let me go see what that was and then I’ll come back, okay?”
Mike keeps his grip on Kevin’s other belt loop and draws him up for a kiss, slow and warm. Kevin rocks up on his toes, stumbling a little when Mike pulls back, smirking. “Let’s go see what that noise was.”
As if it weren’t readily apparent, Joe calls out “Kevin, the cats knocked down the Christmas tree,” when the two round the corner. “Oh, hey Mike.”
“Joseph.” Mike returns and surveys the damage.
Kevin laughs as the cats emerge from the tree, purring and batting at anything within their eyesight that moves and leaves Joe to clean the mess.
The Sixth Day of Christmas
“Cheer up Michael! If you look like a serial killer people will think you don’t like Disneyland and we’ll get run out of town with pitchforks!” Siska delivers his pronouncement and trotts off to catch up with the majority of the group.
Mike drifts over the tracks in the middle of the street to Kevin’s side and slides two fingers into the pocket of Kevin’s jeans. “Do I look like a serial killer?”
Kevin blinks. “Not specifically, no. Have you been serially killing people? Is this something I should know about?”
“Sisky. Do I look like I don’t like Disneyland?” Mike bumps Kevin’s shoulder to get them out of the way of one of the horse-pulled trolleys.
Kevin ponders the question, looking at Mike out of the corner of his eye. “Well, you don’t look like them,” he nods to William and Nick, arm in arm and skipping down the sidewalk of Main Street. “But you don’t look totally unhappy to be here.”
Mike noses at Kevin’s temple. “Good. Because I am happy to be here.” Kevin grins full out at that, ducking his head against Mike’s shoulder.
“Good Christmas?” Butcher asks, dropping back to walk next to Mike.
“Best FauXMas ever.” Mike replies.
William overhears. “FauXMas? What is this devilry?”
“It’s the middle of January.” Kevin adds. “Christmas, but not really. Christmas 2 maybe since we did family stuff already.”
“FauXMas.” Mike says firmly.
“No crowds!” William says, waving his hands around wildly. Mike raises an eyebrow.
William rolls his eyes and steals Nick and Joe from looking in the window of the candy shop.
“Wanna race them to Indiana Jones?” Mike asks in Kevin’s ear. Kevin nods, grinning and the two dart through the archway into Adventureland, laughing out loud.
The Seventh Day of Christmas
Joe slides onto the couch next to Kevin. “I thought we gave up on waiting for Santa years ago. It’s after midnight. You should be asleep dude.”
“I can sleep tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve. No guests until the 26th.”
Joe nods. “I know how this place works Kevin. I own a third of it just like you.”
“Sorry,” Kevin sighs.
“Let me guess.” Joe tips over backwards and lies on the couch, feet on Kevin’s thigh. “This is about Mike being in Europe.”
“He’s a rock star.” Kevin says, lying down on the couch so he’s a mirror image of Joe.
“He’s not out doing lines of coke and banging groupies.” Joe’s eyeroll is audible.
“What if he should be? Nobody likes a domesticated rock star.” Kevin protests at the ceiling.
“Mike does.” Joe points out. “And luckily for you, that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, but-” Kevin stops when his phone vibrates in his hand.
Joe smirks as he gets up and turns off the lights, leaving his brother to talk to his rock star in peace.
The Eighth Day of Christmas
“If it ever did more in this godforsaken part of the country than rain and get foggy, you wouldn’t be having this problem.” Mike stands, perfectly balanced. “Up and at ‘em, Jonas.”
“I’m going to fall and kill myself and then my brothers will have to kill you to avenge me and then your band will have to kill my brothers to avenge you and it’s all going to be very messy.” Kevin protests, testing the range of motion of his ankles in the hockey skates.
“Falling over’s never killed anyone.” Mike glides around in little circles.
Kevin stands, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “Wait- this isn’t- Who thought it would be a good idea to go around on knife blades on a glorified ice cube?” He demands as one leg slips out in one direction and the other leg slips out in the other direction and he goes down hard. “…ow.”
“No, try this.” Mike pulls him to his feet, holding onto both of Kevin’s hands and skating along backwards. “Try to shuffle your feet more than walk.” He grins at Kevin’s frown of concentration until Kevin slips and they both go down in a pile of limbs and skates.
The Ninth Day of Christmas
Kevin stares out the window in horror. “When you told me you were bringing someone I was thinking you were motherhenning some tech who needed somewhere to go for Christmas. Not your mother.” He squeaks, voice going high and tight.
“Because I knew you’d freak out about it.” Mike says calmly. He curls his fingers around a lock of Kevin’s hair and tugs gently.
“Yeah, but if I knew she was coming I’d have cleaned the Vine Room, not the Line Room and I could have scrubbed the oven and made sure Joe trimmed the bushes and-” Kevin startles into silence as a hand that doesn’t belong to Mike lands on his shoulder.
“I love the room you put me in darlin’ and I never cleaned on account of anyone else, so I wouldn’t expect anyone to clean on mine. And you can tell this Joe of yours that the bushes of his look great.” The hand on Kevin’s shoulder squeezes gently and lets go, a woman moving to stand next to Mike.
Kevin swallows, throat catching on itself and extends a hand out. “Mrs. Carden? It’s nice- nice to meet you.”
Mike’s mom laughs gently and uses the hand Kevin’s extended to pull him into a hug. Kevin glares at Mike over her shoulder.
“None of this Mrs. shit.” She says, holding Kevin at arm’s length and looking him up and down. “It’s Evelyn.”
“Evelyn,” Kevin says weakly. “Welcome to the Jonai Bed and Breakfast. I’m Kevin-”
Evelyn cuts him off. “I know who you are. You’re the man my son fell in love with.”
Kevin glances back at Mike who gives a lopsided grin and turns again to face his boyfriend’s mother. “Welcome home Evelyn.”
The Tenth Day of Christmas
Kevin checks the counter to make sure the cats are still there, asleep and opens the door before Frankie can knock. Their youngest brother rushes in, followed by Nick, who’s putting his keys away.
“Frankie!” Kevin exclaims gleefully and braces himself for the rush of his shorter, but much more solid little brother.
“Hey Kevin! When are we going to open presents? Is Santa going to know where I am even though I’m not at home? I smell cookies, can I have some?” Frankie leaves his jacket and luggage on the entryway floor, making a beeline into the kitchen.
Kevin follows after gathering his brother’s things and shoving them somewhere more out of the way.
“Who’s that?” Frankie asks, pointing to Carden, sitting on one of the kitchen stools.
“My boyfriend, Mike.” Kevin answers slowly.
Frankie squints suspiciously at Mike. “You have cool hair.” He proclaims after long moments in silence.
“Uh… thanks.” Mike runs a hand through his hair. “Good to… meet you.”
“Mike plays guitar.” Nick adds, sticking his head into the room from the kitchen.
Frankie lights up. “You do? That’s so cool! Do you play electric guitar? I want to learn one day, look!” He dances around the room, playing air guitar and Mike laughs behind his hand. Kevin laughs outright and Frankie stops playing, pouting at Kevin.
“Mike’s in a real rock band.” Joe adds, picking Frankie up and sitting him on the counter next to the chocolate chip cookies.
“Really? A real rock band?” The youngest Jonas asks, spewing cookie crumbs everywhere as he talks.
Mike nods, trying to hide a smirk. “A real rock band.”
“Wait.” Frankie stops moving. “Eeew you can’t be Kevin’s boyfriend!”
Kevin freezes. “Why not?”
“Because Mike’s awesome and a rock star and Kevin’s just my brother! Rock stars have to do stuff with other awesome people!” Frankie waves his hands around like ‘duh’.
“I dunno little man, Kevin seems awesome enough for me.” Mike says and steals a cookie from the plate next to Frankie.
Kevin hides a grin in the refrigerator.
“Oh, well if you say so, he must be cool enough. That’s alright then.” Frankie proclaims and eats another cookie.
The Eleventh Day of Christmas
“Uh-uh, uh-uh.” Joe says, backing out of the room as Kevin dry heaves into the toilet. “Sorry bro, I’m not cut out for this kind of thing. The flu is beyond my familial duties.”
Kevin coughs weakly and spits into the toilet. “Will you- will you call Mike and tell him not to come? I’m not going to be the one who infects The Academy and makes little girls cry when they have to cancel tour dates.”
Joe’s “will do!” drifts back from the hallway.
Kevin pillows his head on his arms and wishes for death.
He wakes up sometime later as somebody tries to move him away from the toilet and to his bed.
“Time’s it?” He mumbles and tries to force his limbs into cooperating and moving.
“Almost 10.” Mike’s voice answers in his ear and Kevin jerks.
“What are you- I told Joe to tell you to stay away.” He protests, trying not to breathe or have to use his stomach muscles.
“I was already here.” Mike sits Kevin on the bed and hands him a damp washcloth. Kevin scrubs at his face gratefully.
“If you get sick, I am kicking your ass.” Kevin warns, gingerly lying down and threading his fingers through Mike’s.
“That’s okay.”
“’m glad you’re here though.” Kevin murmurs, eyes closed. “Wanted to see you.”
“Yeah Kev, me too. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Mike says roughly, squeezing Kevin’s hand.
The Twelfth Day of Christmas
“Kevin! Get the door!” Nick yells from the kitchen.
“Get it yourself!” Kevin yells back even as he goes to pull the front door open. “Did you invite people again? Or did that crazy cabbie dump more people off when he knows we’re closed and that we’ll have rooms open? Because, seriously- hi Mike.” He says blankly.
Mike grins at him from the front porch. “Hey Kev. Gonna let me in? Or should I leave?”
“No!” Kevin grabs Mike’s hand and pulls him in. “I thought you were in… the East Coast! Was- did something happen? Is everything okay?”
“No, no, everything’s fine.” Mike says and closes the door behind himself. “One of the venues cancelled and we had some extra time, and I got a ticket home for cheap.”
“How did you even know I was going to be here?” Kevin asks, wrapping his fingers in the end of Mike’s scarf.
“Hey Mike.” Joe wanders in, too perfectly timed to not have been standing outside and listening.
“Joe.” Mike returns evenly. Joe wanders back off and Kevin tugs Mike’s scarf a little helplessly.
“Why’d you come here? Not that I’m complaining, but you should be sleeping or something.”
Mike kisses Kevin quickly, lightly. “I have something more important than sleeping to do.” He tangles his fingers with Kevin’s and the scarf for a moment before dropping his hand.
Kevin opens his hand to see a plain silver band looped around the tip of his index finger.
“Marry me, Kev.” Mike says, eyes trained on Kevin’s.
Kevin swallows. “Wh- what?”
“Marry me.” Mike says patiently. Kevin spins the ring around once, twice, watching the light reflect off the metal.
“People don’t like domesticated rock stars.” Kevin whispers, looking up at Mike.
Mike starts to grin, sliding the ring off Kevin’s index finger and fully onto his ring finger. “Lucky for you, I do.”
“Why now?” Kevin asks, feeling the ring between his fingers.
Mike looks down and glances back up at Kevin and shrugs a little. “It seemed like the right time.” He shrugs a little again. “I don’t know why I didn’t before.”
Kevin grins, pulling Mike in by the shirt.
Joe wolf whistles when he first glimpses Kevin’s ring, light glinting off the metal. “Whoohoo Kevin!” He pulls out his cell phone and calls Nick, lighting up when their brother answers. “Kevvy’s getting married so he can stop living in sin!”
Kevin groans, burying his face in his hands. Mike laughs, pressed up against Kevin’s back. Joe laughs at something Nick said and Kevin gives in and laughs. Mike spins Kevin around and kisses him soundly, ring cool against Mike’s skin as Kevin wraps a hand around his neck.
A/N: Hi, armadillosoufle! Hope you liked! Sorry, I can’t write sex at all. Merry Skipness!
Author: onigaminanashi
Recipient: ink_on_the_page
Prompt: what happens on the day that Kevin realizes he's been with Mike for five (or six, ten, twenty, whatever) years? Alternately, It's christmas in the Carden-Jonas household. Please write me the christmas eve shenanigans! (i think my craving for established relationships and domestic-y fic is a bit obvious with these prompts. hmm.)
Notes: I don't own, I don't know! I've pretty much made everything up. This is an AU in which The Academy Is... is still a touring rock band, but that the Jonas Brothers own and run a bed and breakfast. 12 ficlets, ~3700 words total, in no order at all, not even chronological. Rated G to PG-13.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
The First Day of Christmas
“Take me to a bar. Get me somewhere, anywhere but here.” William sprawls out across the backseat of the cab, dripping water everywhere and leaving his bandmates to wrestle the luggage into the trunk.
“Fucking shove William.” Mike slaps at his lead singer’s leg until William slides across the backseat and Mike, Siska, and the Butcher pile in behind. Tony slides into the front seat, cell phone pressed to one ear.
“This is the West…ish. There has to be somewhere we can stay. All the hotels can’t be full. Seriously. I don’t give a flying fuck if it is Christmas Eve.”
“Happens every year. You’d think they’d be used to it by now.” Siska flops back, perched half on Mike and half on Butcher, crammed four abreast into the back.
“Hey,” Mike leans forward, dumping Sisky fully onto the Butcher. “You know a place that might have rooms open?” he asks the cabbie.
The driver grins into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but it’ll cost ya. Place is like 20 miles from here. Brought a group back from there this morning.”
“Just go.” Tony drags out his credit card. “Try not to crash and die.”
Mike blinks awake to see the cab parked in front of an older-looking blue house. Beside him, William stretches, freakishly long limbs snaking across Mike’s body.
“The fuck? I thought this dude said he knew a place. He take us home to kill us?”
“As long as he kills me in a bed.” William mutters and opens the car door to a gust of water-infused wind. “A warm bed.”
“Welcome to the Hotel California Bed & Breakfast!” The cabbie gleefully swipes Tony’s credit card and hardly waits for the group to extract themselves and their luggage before pulling away.
The front door flies open to a silhouette backed by warm yellow light and Tony mans up, shouldering his duffel and striding towards the light.
“Hi, do you guys have a reservation?” The shadow calls out, hurrying across the porch and down the stairs to the group. “No, of course you don’t, we’re not expecting any arrivals until after Christmas. Are you guys going to stay long?”
“Just until our flight is rescheduled. Is this a …hotel?” Tony asks warily, eyeing the house.
“It’s a bed and breakfast!” The man says cheerfully. “I’m Kevin Jonas, co-owner and cook. How can I- wait. Let’s not be stupid. Come inside before we all freeze to death and they don’t find us until spring thaw.”
Mike trades a look with William, eyebrow raised as they all follow Kevin into a living room/entry way/lobby kinda thing. Siska shuts the door behind them and without the wind whipping his hair into his eyes, Mike gets his first look at the co-owner.
“Well, shit.” Mike mutters.
The Second Day of Christmas
“So what is this shit again?” Mike eyes the groups of kids running around with paper bags full of sand.
“Luminaries.” Kevin explains patiently again. He loops his arm through Mike’s and threads his fingers into the fringe of the other man’s scarf.
“But what do they do?”
“It’s a Christmas Eve thing. We’ve been doing it for forever. You line the curbs with the bags and put sand and a tea candle in, then light them when it gets dark. It’s tradition.”
Mike turns away from the window and raises an eyebrow. Kevin quits humming snippits from Fiddler on the Roof and grins. “They’re really pretty when they’re all lit! And sometimes it gets foggy and they sort of glow all around, like halos-” Mike cuts Kevin off with a kiss, rolling his eyes fondly.
“I didn’t say I doubted that,” Mike murmurs into Kevin’s mouth. “But I can think of better ways to spend Christmas Eve…”
Kevin ducks his head, fighting a grin and worrying the fringe still wrapped around his fingers. “It’s tradition Mike. Tradition first, better ways later.”
The Third Day of Christmas
The group looks up from their various places across the living room as William sticks his head in the back door from the patio.
“So, how’s the turkey coming? Worth having to freeze your ass off to check the barbeque?” Chislett asks, shaking his head. “I still don’t get cold Thanksgivings or Christmases.”
“I believe,” William says grandly, “that Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite would be appropriate just now.”
“Why?” Nick asks and giggles, a bow stuck to the top of his head.
“The turkey’s on fire.”
Mike scrambles to his feet, cursing. “Seriously William? You set our dinner on fire?”
“Man the battle hoses! Summon the fire department!” William sweeps his hand back to allow the group out onto the covered porch.
“No, don’t!” Three or four voices cut William off. “Grease fire,” Siska adds. “Water makes it worse. I saw it on Mythbusters.”
The group stares at the turkey, flames flickering cheerfully.”
“Well…”
“This is new…”
Kevin races out from the kitchen, holding a small orange box and throws the contents onto the barbequed turkey in a white puff of baking powder and smoke. He gingerly turns the barbeque off and straightens to look at William.
Nick giggles, snapping a picture of the blackened bird on his cell phone and Kevin just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
“New rule for next year: no rock stars are allowed to cook.”
The Fourth Day of Christmas
“Daddy, you and Mommy are married, right?” Chislett’s youngest, Adele, looks up from the pile of brightly wrapped gifts escaping from under the tree.
“Yeah chickpea, why?”
“But Mommy’s a girl.” Adele frowns, all her attention drawn from the presents.
“Yeah, she is.” Chislett ignores the complete silence from behind that most likely signifies the rest of his band hoping she asks him about the birds and the bees.
“So why aren’t Uncle Mike and Uncle Kevin married too? Uncle Kevin wears pretty aprons like mommy sometimes.”
Kevin’s indignant sputtering gets drowned out by his brothers and the whole of The Academy Is… and their significant others breaking out into laughter.
“That’s sort of complicated baby. Just know that Uncle Kevin and Uncle Mike love each other like Daddy and I do.” Chislett’s wife steps in while the others try to stop laughing.
After presents and in the process of cleaning up the aftermath, Mike finds Kevin in the rarely-used formal living room, staring out the window.
“Did you ever want it?” Kevin asks abruptly, still looking through the glass. “A wedding and rings and kids and all that?”
“Never really thought about it. I had music.” Mike stands next to the window.
“I did. There were always weddings at the church and so either dad presided or we helped our or both. I sorta thought it’d be the best day of my life.” Kevin glances out of the corner of his eye at Mike.
“But then what?” Mike asks, voice tight. “To be honest here Kev, I’m not sure why you’re telling me this.”
“But then we moved out and moved here, stopped going to weddings every month. But then I met you. But then I found out having a home- being the home you come home to is enough.” Kevin stands, hands shoved into his pockets.
Mike stares, mouth open the tiniest bit of its own accord. “This- this is enough for you?”
Kevin shrugs a little. “My work is my home and my home makes me happy. It’s just an added bonus that it’s your home too. I mean, it is right? I’m not putting words into your-” Mike stops his words with a kiss, a simple meeting of lips.
“Yeah Kev. This is my home too.”
The Fifth Day of Christmas
“Whoever said ‘oh, hey guys, let’s get an office cat or two’ should be tried for crimes against humanity!” Kevin yelled, keeping the inquisitive kittens away from the broken shards of ceramic that used to be a coffee mug.
“Why Kevin, I believe that would have been… oh yeah. You.” Joe picks up a kitten in each hand and coos at them. “Did youses do that? Noooo… You little fuzzbutts couldn’t have done that, no sirree. Mean old daddy Kevin’s just grumpy because he needs a nap, yes he does.”
“But somebody just left them there! In a box!” Kevin protests half-heartedly as he brings out the small vacuum. He shuts it off and drops it as he turns to the closet and finds Mike leaning against the door.
“Cute, but I think I like the feather duster and French maid outfit more…” Mike smirks.
“What… How- you’re not supposed to be here for another two days!” Kevin picks up the vacuum and shoos Mike away from the closet door.
“I caught an earlier flight.” The guitarist shrugs. “Unless it’s a problem…”
“No! It’s no problem!” Kevin shuts the closet door a little harder than perhaps necessary and yelps when he’s pulled back against Mike’s chest by the belt loops.
“Hey, what’s up?” Mike asks, low and warm in Kevin’s ear.
“Nothing. Just a little …stressed.” Kevin closes his eyes as the sound of falling objects and breaking glass punctuates his last word.
Mike keeps his grip as Kevin tries to pull away to check the source of the noise. “Hey, nuh uh. Take a minute, you haven’t even said hi yet.”
“Hi.” Kevin says automatically. He reaches back for Mike’s wrist and squeezes. “Hi. Let me- let me go see what that was and then I’ll come back, okay?”
Mike keeps his grip on Kevin’s other belt loop and draws him up for a kiss, slow and warm. Kevin rocks up on his toes, stumbling a little when Mike pulls back, smirking. “Let’s go see what that noise was.”
As if it weren’t readily apparent, Joe calls out “Kevin, the cats knocked down the Christmas tree,” when the two round the corner. “Oh, hey Mike.”
“Joseph.” Mike returns and surveys the damage.
Kevin laughs as the cats emerge from the tree, purring and batting at anything within their eyesight that moves and leaves Joe to clean the mess.
The Sixth Day of Christmas
“Cheer up Michael! If you look like a serial killer people will think you don’t like Disneyland and we’ll get run out of town with pitchforks!” Siska delivers his pronouncement and trotts off to catch up with the majority of the group.
Mike drifts over the tracks in the middle of the street to Kevin’s side and slides two fingers into the pocket of Kevin’s jeans. “Do I look like a serial killer?”
Kevin blinks. “Not specifically, no. Have you been serially killing people? Is this something I should know about?”
“Sisky. Do I look like I don’t like Disneyland?” Mike bumps Kevin’s shoulder to get them out of the way of one of the horse-pulled trolleys.
Kevin ponders the question, looking at Mike out of the corner of his eye. “Well, you don’t look like them,” he nods to William and Nick, arm in arm and skipping down the sidewalk of Main Street. “But you don’t look totally unhappy to be here.”
Mike noses at Kevin’s temple. “Good. Because I am happy to be here.” Kevin grins full out at that, ducking his head against Mike’s shoulder.
“Good Christmas?” Butcher asks, dropping back to walk next to Mike.
“Best FauXMas ever.” Mike replies.
William overhears. “FauXMas? What is this devilry?”
“It’s the middle of January.” Kevin adds. “Christmas, but not really. Christmas 2 maybe since we did family stuff already.”
“FauXMas.” Mike says firmly.
“No crowds!” William says, waving his hands around wildly. Mike raises an eyebrow.
William rolls his eyes and steals Nick and Joe from looking in the window of the candy shop.
“Wanna race them to Indiana Jones?” Mike asks in Kevin’s ear. Kevin nods, grinning and the two dart through the archway into Adventureland, laughing out loud.
The Seventh Day of Christmas
Joe slides onto the couch next to Kevin. “I thought we gave up on waiting for Santa years ago. It’s after midnight. You should be asleep dude.”
“I can sleep tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve. No guests until the 26th.”
Joe nods. “I know how this place works Kevin. I own a third of it just like you.”
“Sorry,” Kevin sighs.
“Let me guess.” Joe tips over backwards and lies on the couch, feet on Kevin’s thigh. “This is about Mike being in Europe.”
“He’s a rock star.” Kevin says, lying down on the couch so he’s a mirror image of Joe.
“He’s not out doing lines of coke and banging groupies.” Joe’s eyeroll is audible.
“What if he should be? Nobody likes a domesticated rock star.” Kevin protests at the ceiling.
“Mike does.” Joe points out. “And luckily for you, that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, but-” Kevin stops when his phone vibrates in his hand.
Joe smirks as he gets up and turns off the lights, leaving his brother to talk to his rock star in peace.
The Eighth Day of Christmas
“If it ever did more in this godforsaken part of the country than rain and get foggy, you wouldn’t be having this problem.” Mike stands, perfectly balanced. “Up and at ‘em, Jonas.”
“I’m going to fall and kill myself and then my brothers will have to kill you to avenge me and then your band will have to kill my brothers to avenge you and it’s all going to be very messy.” Kevin protests, testing the range of motion of his ankles in the hockey skates.
“Falling over’s never killed anyone.” Mike glides around in little circles.
Kevin stands, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “Wait- this isn’t- Who thought it would be a good idea to go around on knife blades on a glorified ice cube?” He demands as one leg slips out in one direction and the other leg slips out in the other direction and he goes down hard. “…ow.”
“No, try this.” Mike pulls him to his feet, holding onto both of Kevin’s hands and skating along backwards. “Try to shuffle your feet more than walk.” He grins at Kevin’s frown of concentration until Kevin slips and they both go down in a pile of limbs and skates.
The Ninth Day of Christmas
Kevin stares out the window in horror. “When you told me you were bringing someone I was thinking you were motherhenning some tech who needed somewhere to go for Christmas. Not your mother.” He squeaks, voice going high and tight.
“Because I knew you’d freak out about it.” Mike says calmly. He curls his fingers around a lock of Kevin’s hair and tugs gently.
“Yeah, but if I knew she was coming I’d have cleaned the Vine Room, not the Line Room and I could have scrubbed the oven and made sure Joe trimmed the bushes and-” Kevin startles into silence as a hand that doesn’t belong to Mike lands on his shoulder.
“I love the room you put me in darlin’ and I never cleaned on account of anyone else, so I wouldn’t expect anyone to clean on mine. And you can tell this Joe of yours that the bushes of his look great.” The hand on Kevin’s shoulder squeezes gently and lets go, a woman moving to stand next to Mike.
Kevin swallows, throat catching on itself and extends a hand out. “Mrs. Carden? It’s nice- nice to meet you.”
Mike’s mom laughs gently and uses the hand Kevin’s extended to pull him into a hug. Kevin glares at Mike over her shoulder.
“None of this Mrs. shit.” She says, holding Kevin at arm’s length and looking him up and down. “It’s Evelyn.”
“Evelyn,” Kevin says weakly. “Welcome to the Jonai Bed and Breakfast. I’m Kevin-”
Evelyn cuts him off. “I know who you are. You’re the man my son fell in love with.”
Kevin glances back at Mike who gives a lopsided grin and turns again to face his boyfriend’s mother. “Welcome home Evelyn.”
The Tenth Day of Christmas
Kevin checks the counter to make sure the cats are still there, asleep and opens the door before Frankie can knock. Their youngest brother rushes in, followed by Nick, who’s putting his keys away.
“Frankie!” Kevin exclaims gleefully and braces himself for the rush of his shorter, but much more solid little brother.
“Hey Kevin! When are we going to open presents? Is Santa going to know where I am even though I’m not at home? I smell cookies, can I have some?” Frankie leaves his jacket and luggage on the entryway floor, making a beeline into the kitchen.
Kevin follows after gathering his brother’s things and shoving them somewhere more out of the way.
“Who’s that?” Frankie asks, pointing to Carden, sitting on one of the kitchen stools.
“My boyfriend, Mike.” Kevin answers slowly.
Frankie squints suspiciously at Mike. “You have cool hair.” He proclaims after long moments in silence.
“Uh… thanks.” Mike runs a hand through his hair. “Good to… meet you.”
“Mike plays guitar.” Nick adds, sticking his head into the room from the kitchen.
Frankie lights up. “You do? That’s so cool! Do you play electric guitar? I want to learn one day, look!” He dances around the room, playing air guitar and Mike laughs behind his hand. Kevin laughs outright and Frankie stops playing, pouting at Kevin.
“Mike’s in a real rock band.” Joe adds, picking Frankie up and sitting him on the counter next to the chocolate chip cookies.
“Really? A real rock band?” The youngest Jonas asks, spewing cookie crumbs everywhere as he talks.
Mike nods, trying to hide a smirk. “A real rock band.”
“Wait.” Frankie stops moving. “Eeew you can’t be Kevin’s boyfriend!”
Kevin freezes. “Why not?”
“Because Mike’s awesome and a rock star and Kevin’s just my brother! Rock stars have to do stuff with other awesome people!” Frankie waves his hands around like ‘duh’.
“I dunno little man, Kevin seems awesome enough for me.” Mike says and steals a cookie from the plate next to Frankie.
Kevin hides a grin in the refrigerator.
“Oh, well if you say so, he must be cool enough. That’s alright then.” Frankie proclaims and eats another cookie.
The Eleventh Day of Christmas
“Uh-uh, uh-uh.” Joe says, backing out of the room as Kevin dry heaves into the toilet. “Sorry bro, I’m not cut out for this kind of thing. The flu is beyond my familial duties.”
Kevin coughs weakly and spits into the toilet. “Will you- will you call Mike and tell him not to come? I’m not going to be the one who infects The Academy and makes little girls cry when they have to cancel tour dates.”
Joe’s “will do!” drifts back from the hallway.
Kevin pillows his head on his arms and wishes for death.
He wakes up sometime later as somebody tries to move him away from the toilet and to his bed.
“Time’s it?” He mumbles and tries to force his limbs into cooperating and moving.
“Almost 10.” Mike’s voice answers in his ear and Kevin jerks.
“What are you- I told Joe to tell you to stay away.” He protests, trying not to breathe or have to use his stomach muscles.
“I was already here.” Mike sits Kevin on the bed and hands him a damp washcloth. Kevin scrubs at his face gratefully.
“If you get sick, I am kicking your ass.” Kevin warns, gingerly lying down and threading his fingers through Mike’s.
“That’s okay.”
“’m glad you’re here though.” Kevin murmurs, eyes closed. “Wanted to see you.”
“Yeah Kev, me too. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Mike says roughly, squeezing Kevin’s hand.
The Twelfth Day of Christmas
“Kevin! Get the door!” Nick yells from the kitchen.
“Get it yourself!” Kevin yells back even as he goes to pull the front door open. “Did you invite people again? Or did that crazy cabbie dump more people off when he knows we’re closed and that we’ll have rooms open? Because, seriously- hi Mike.” He says blankly.
Mike grins at him from the front porch. “Hey Kev. Gonna let me in? Or should I leave?”
“No!” Kevin grabs Mike’s hand and pulls him in. “I thought you were in… the East Coast! Was- did something happen? Is everything okay?”
“No, no, everything’s fine.” Mike says and closes the door behind himself. “One of the venues cancelled and we had some extra time, and I got a ticket home for cheap.”
“How did you even know I was going to be here?” Kevin asks, wrapping his fingers in the end of Mike’s scarf.
“Hey Mike.” Joe wanders in, too perfectly timed to not have been standing outside and listening.
“Joe.” Mike returns evenly. Joe wanders back off and Kevin tugs Mike’s scarf a little helplessly.
“Why’d you come here? Not that I’m complaining, but you should be sleeping or something.”
Mike kisses Kevin quickly, lightly. “I have something more important than sleeping to do.” He tangles his fingers with Kevin’s and the scarf for a moment before dropping his hand.
Kevin opens his hand to see a plain silver band looped around the tip of his index finger.
“Marry me, Kev.” Mike says, eyes trained on Kevin’s.
Kevin swallows. “Wh- what?”
“Marry me.” Mike says patiently. Kevin spins the ring around once, twice, watching the light reflect off the metal.
“People don’t like domesticated rock stars.” Kevin whispers, looking up at Mike.
Mike starts to grin, sliding the ring off Kevin’s index finger and fully onto his ring finger. “Lucky for you, I do.”
“Why now?” Kevin asks, feeling the ring between his fingers.
Mike looks down and glances back up at Kevin and shrugs a little. “It seemed like the right time.” He shrugs a little again. “I don’t know why I didn’t before.”
Kevin grins, pulling Mike in by the shirt.
Joe wolf whistles when he first glimpses Kevin’s ring, light glinting off the metal. “Whoohoo Kevin!” He pulls out his cell phone and calls Nick, lighting up when their brother answers. “Kevvy’s getting married so he can stop living in sin!”
Kevin groans, burying his face in his hands. Mike laughs, pressed up against Kevin’s back. Joe laughs at something Nick said and Kevin gives in and laughs. Mike spins Kevin around and kisses him soundly, ring cool against Mike’s skin as Kevin wraps a hand around his neck.
A/N: Hi, armadillosoufle! Hope you liked! Sorry, I can’t write sex at all. Merry Skipness!