A/N: This is a oneshot inspired by my avatar and by the fact that the age difference between J, K, and N is somewhat close, but the gap between Nick and Frankie is larger. Idk, call me twisted if you want. Enjoy & reply. =]
"Do you wanna?" fifteen-year-old Marshall asked through the darkness of his room. His hand was on Kevin's thigh and his hormones were running high.
"I've never had sex before," Kevin replied oddly. He was on his back and his best friend straddled him.
Their erections rubbed together as Marshall replied, "Me either. We can do it together, though. I mean, we're best friends and this can be sort of an experiment to see if we like it, you know?"
"But we're not lovers," Kevin said as he removed his boxers.
"Does it matter?"
"Not really," the thirteen-year-old shrugged. He smiled and pulled Marshall down for another kiss.
The memory faded as Denise walked into the room. "Sweetie, the woman from the agency is here," she said dismally as she walked back into the space.
"I know," Kevin nodded, trying his hardest to hold back his almost-bursting emotions.
"And now it's time for us to say goodbye to Frankie..."
"No, I can't say goodbye," he insisted. "Mama, I can't let him go," thirteen-year-old Kevin Jonas II whimpered through tear-filled eyes. He had just endured seven hours of hard labor and was an emotional wreck, totally drained of any energy or motivation to do anything but admire his new infant. "He's my baby boy."
"Kevin, Honey, we talked about this," Denise replied, reaching down for her grandson. "He's going to a good home where adults can love and care for him like real parents should. He belongs with that beautiful couple out there, not a thirteen-year-old child. They want to adopt Frankie and we need to say goodbye."
"But I can't!" Kevin sobbed, throwing his head back as his possessive grip on the infant tightened. "I thought I wouldn't want this baby but I do! Mom, don't make me do this! Don't make me give him up, Mommy, please! I'll do chores for the rest of my life if I can just keep him!"
"Kevin, he's going."
"I can't say goodbye!" Kevin screamed. "Could you?! Could you do it?! Could you have given me or-or Joe or Nick up for adoption to total strangers?! It's too hard!"
"Mom," eleven-year-old Joseph Adam broke in, putting a hand on his mother's forearm. "Look at Kevin, he's so sad. Just him keep the baby."
Eight-year-old Nicholas sat nearby, simply indifferent to the family crisis going on three feet away from his Pacman game. He intently squinted at the tiny screen on his purple Game Boy Advance and his tongue incoherently poked out the side of his mouth in concentration.
Denise's husband was in the hospital chapel, praying for his thirteen-year-old's soul, asking God for forgiveness and to forget about the experimental sin Kevin II participated in. Paul also asked him to bless his new grandson with nurturing parents.
The short woman stood by her eldest boy's hospital bed with crossed arms. She hated seeing her son in pain during childbirth and she hated seeing him crying his heart out over a baby he wasn't supposed to keep or even want.
Kevin hiccuped and looked through glassy eyes at the newborn child resting in his embrace. He pressed his trembling lips to the offspring's forehead and blubbered out, "Fine, just take him."
Denise easily reached down, taking the delicate human from his cozy position and turned her back to Kevin. The broken boy put a hand over his face in a pathetic attempt to depress his hysteric sobs.
Joseph glared at his mother's back and hugged his suffering brother sympathetically. He rested his head on Kevin's shoulder and whispered, "It'll be okay, Kev. It really will."
Although the children were unaware, Denise heard Joe's compassionate words and glanced down at the baby once more. She still wasn't moving. She told herself to put one foot in front of the other but she just couldn't follow through with it. Slowly, she made her way back to Kevin's hospital bed and laid the baby down. "Nick, come here," she ordered.
"I'm playing a game," the immature eight-year-old retorted.
By then Kevin was hopelessly hugging his baby once more, hiccuping in an attempt to calm his nerves and cursing his hormones for making him so emotional.
"Get your butt over here," Joe barked quietly, reaching over and grabbing his younger brother's arm.
Nicholas whined but was ignored when he stood by his oldest sibling's bed side.
"Listen to me," Denise started after returning the baby to his previous position. She sighed, putting a hand behind Kevin's head and stroking his hair. "We're gonna keep him."
"Really?" the thirteen-year-old spoke up suddenly.
"Uh huh," his mother confirmed with a weak smile. A soft laugh followed when she realized how happy Kevin was.
"We can keep him?" Kevin gasped in disbelief.
"Yes but listen," she said sternly, nudging Nicholas' shoulder. "All of you. Kevin, you're going back to public school, do you hear me?"
"Yes ma'am," he answered.
"Do you hear me?" Denise asked again as Kevin clung to his baby. "I'm going to raise Frankie as if he were my own. He's going to be my child. Do we understand and do you agree?"
"Yes," the three kids chorused in response.
Denise clasped her hands and turned to leave the room. "I'm going to tell your father."
Nick resumed his video game and Joe stood on the tips of his toes and leaned over to peer down at Kevin's child.
"Look, Frankie," the new parent cooed, smiling over at Joe briefly. "It's your uncle."
"Brother," Joe corrected him before returning the grin.
"Right," Kevin signed. "Do you wanna hold him?"
"Sure," the eleven-year-old nodded.
Eight years, thirty-one days, seventeen hours and nine seconds later...
The ever-so-famous Jonas Brothers as Kevin, twenty-one, Nick, sixteen, and Joe, nineteen, have come to be called, are heading onstage in a few minutes. They're in an arena that holds thirty thousand people in a city that's the fourth largest in the country. None of them really know how they ever made it here.
They're talking together right now, the entire family. Papa Jonas says the closing words and heads are lifted from prayer.
Coming out of the huddle, the younger two brothers turn their backs to Kevin. After making sure that no ignorant people can see them, the twenty-one-year-old kneels down, opening his arms for Frankie to walk in to.
The eight-year-old obliges before hugging Kevin's neck tight. "Good luck, Dad," he says into the elder's ear.
Kevin pulls back and kisses his child's cheek. "Thanks, Buddy," he replies. "And if anyone asks who you are you tell them-"
"I'm your brother," Frankie sighs out of habit. "I know, I know."
The twenty-one-year-old sighs sadly in return and fixes the child's hair momentarily before Joseph calls for him. "I gotta go," Kevin breathes.
"Okay," Frankie nods. He understands their relationship. He really and truly does but he just doesn't like it all that much.
"I love you," Kevin reminds his son with another kiss to his cheek.
"Love you too, Daddy," he smiles.
Joe rustles his nephew's hair before handing Kevin his guitar. Kevin takes a last look at his mother, father and son before following his younger brothers onto the stage.
--
The show is over and the boys are sweaty. Joe's arm is around Nick's neck and they're gabbing about how well the show went. Kevin's sweaty, trying to catch his breath and looking forward to a shower.
"You guys were great," Paul comments when the family meets up and heads towards the back exit.
Kevin doesn't stop walking as he bends down and scoops Frankie into his arms.
"You rocked, Daddy," the eight-year-old gushes happily.
"Yeah?" Kevin asks, laughing before pecking his son's nose.
Frankie nods and as the group is about to go public, the boy is put to his feet. They're preparing for 'brother mode' as the family likes to call it. They have to meet fans now and Kevin fakes a smile. He doesn't exactly enjoy this part of fame because it's so disgusting. He sucks it up, though, and keeps an eye on his child as he prepares to sign his name several hundred times.
--
It's almost two in the morning when Nick and Frankie are finally asleep. The other boys are still awake.
Joe is standing not too far from Kevin who's in the bunk area, kneeling at the side of Frankie's bed and staring at the sleeping figure. He looks completely lost.
Cautiously, the nineteen-year-old approaches his sibling and places a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs gently, careful not to wake his nephew. Kevin nods only to acknowledge his brother's words. "Is everything alright?" Joe wants to know.
"Oh, yeah," Kevin confirms. "I'm fine."
"You look so tired." The singer offers, "Wanna hit the hay?"
"Might as well," the twenty-one-year-old complies before standing upright.
Joe still sees some undefined need in Kevin's eyes, the need to be Frankie's daddy publicly and not just behind closed doors. He knows the twenty-one-year-old wants to stop the band, stop touring and settle down in a conservative home for just him and his little boy. Joe also knows that Kevin loves him too much to stop their careers, so he easily sets his hands on Kevin's shoulders, leans forward and places a gentle kiss on his mouth.
The older of the two brings his hand up before tracing the back of it down Joe's cheek.
"Night," Joe murmurs incoherently.
"G'night," Kevin whispers in response before climbing into his and Frankie's shared bunk. The curtains are closed, his breaths are even and he's a daddy once more.