fifteendozentimes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fifteendozentimes) wrote2009-10-21 08:58 pm
fifteendozentimes) wrote2009-10-21 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
WIP Amnesty: Untitled Kevin Character Piece (Disney RPF)
Apparently sometimes I think it's fun to write about Kevin even without pairing him with randoms. I think I abandoned this one because it was going to drift into preachy self-esteem-PSA territory.
No warnings.
When Dad brings Kevin – any one of them – out to lunch, it's a Big Deal, 'cause Mom's the Friend who does lunches and shopping and stuff, and Dad's the Parent, and lunch means he's got something big to talk about and has to make absolutely sure Joe and Nick can't eavesdrop. Dad asked Kevin if he'd like to do a commercial while Joe and Nick were doing so well for themselves in musicals at a little diner, told him he was going to public school over the only meatloaf that's ever topped Mom's. Lunch with Dad has way less to do with food than business.
"Nick showed me some of the songs he's been working on," Dad says, while Kevin's mouth is full of sandwich. "I like where he's going."
"I didn't think he was ready to show you yet. Me and Joe wrote a lot, too."
Dad grabs a couple fries off Kevin's plate; he always gets a baked potato, because it's better for him, and always eats half of Kevin's fries. "Joe and I, not me and Joe. And I asked, wanted to see where he was going. We had a good talk."
Kevin nods, opens up his sandwich to take some of the lettuce off and then decides he wants it all anyway. It's a time-waster; as soon as he takes a bite, Dad's gonna say something, expect an answer, and just watch him while he chews.
"He's written quite a bit for you to sing."
"Not more than him or Joe."
"He and Joe are Broadway-caliber singers."
This time Kevin does take a bite, because he isn't sure what to say to that, exactly.
"Your guitar playing's really taking off; I think you should be focusing on that, instead."
"Am I not practicing enough?"
A few more fries go from Kevin's plate to Dad's mouth. "You're practicing plenty, Kevin. I mean as a performer, you should be focusing on your strengths. Joe on singing, you on your playing."
"And Nick?"
"Has enough focus for ten boys. Do you want to get dessert here, or go somewhere for ice cream?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Kevin isn't entirely sure how Joe managed to fall asleep in the middle of a songwriting session, but then even Nick was starting to look a little sleepy when he decided he needed to take a shower to wake up (quitting for the night was, apparently, not an option, not if a cold shower might give him another hour before his handwriting got unreadable) and his own eyelids are kind of heavy, so it's not all that surprising. He'll have to remember that the late night jam sessions have to happen wherever Joe's bed is, though, 'cause Joe sprawls and now there's no room on Kevin's bed for himself.
"What is that? I like it," Nick says, appearing from out of nowhere. Or out of the bathroom, whichever.
"Uh, just something me and Garbo were messing around with."
"Words?"
"Maybe. I've got, like, the beginning of something that'll probably fit. Um," Kevin shifts, grabs his notebook and flips through until he finds the right six or seven scribbled lines, passes it over.
Nick's eyes drift over the page once, twice, and he nods, smiles a little. "Play it again," he says, and settles in to listen with a look on his face like he's prepared for a masterpiece.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Busy?" Joe asks, flops down next to Kevin on the couch and starts to get comfy without waiting for an answer.
"No. Unless you want something, then yes."
Joe tosses a script at him, stretches out with his feet in Kevin's lap. "Help meeee, I suck."
"I'll help if you promise to record yourself saying 'I suck' for future use. And where's Demi?"
"Class with the little ones." Joe prods his sock-covered toes into Kevin's side, makes him squirm. "Be my Mitchie, or I'll tell everyone it's your fault the movie sucks."
"You should maybe start running lines when it's good for other people, stop burdening your last resort so much."
"Pfft, you'd be my first resort if it weren't so weird to want you to be my love interest all the time. I – okay, sometimes I hear the words that come out of my mouth, and I get those looks you're always giving me."
Kevin grins, flips to the kitchen scene Joe always stumbles over. "There's something wrong with you, you know that?"
"Dude, I'm not the one who's the best Mitchie, so there's something wrong with you. And don't tell Demi I said that, I'm too young to die."
- - - - - - - - - -
The only thing worse than walking into a conversation and feeling like you were the topic is walking into a conversation and knowing you were. Kevin thinks too highly of his father to think he planned it this way, that he took into account the long hallway and good acoustics and how loud Nick gets when he's frustrated; apparently, though, he doesn't think highly enough that the thought doesn't cross his mind.
"Do you want me to start assuming Joe's not gonna sing anymore, either, write vocals for someone else?"
"You're overreacting, Nicholas."
"You're being unfair. And he writes his own solos half the time, anyway, why aren't you talking to him about this?"
"I will be. And I'm sure he'll understand that it makes sense to split up the guitar duties a little more evenly between the guitarists."
"But it's not supposed to be even."
"It doesn't seem like a waste to you, to have a guitarist that good and not take advantage?"
"That's my point, Dad," Nick says, and Kevin doesn't have time to get out of the way before his younger brother's in the hallway, cheeks a little red the way they get when he's even a little worked up. Nick glances back at the door, gauges the distance, ducks his head when he turns back to Kevin. "I think me and Joe are gonna go shopping, wanna come?"
"I - "
Dad sticks his head out into the hall, blinks a little when he sees Nick standing there. "Kevin, I was just about to come find you. How about we go get some lunch?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Nicole tends to just stick herself where she wants to be, make conversations happen when she wants them to, so it's not that unusual when Kevin wanders into wardrobe just to find her leaning against the rack of the clothes he's supposed to try on at some point.
"I just checked with Nick and he says he'll have the song for 'Dream' all written by the end of the week. Do you wanna get together and rehearse around it before then, or wait for the magic to happen? 'Cause I could use a few - "
"There's no song."
"Nick and the script think there is. I just talked to him, he's stuck on you weighing the deaths of all those innocent plants I wilt against crushing my spirit. Or something."
Kevin sighs, runs his hand through his hair. "Um. Can I catch up with you later? I've gotta go talk to Nick."
Nicole arches an eyebrow, looks at him so intently he almost wants to blush, and nods. "Yeah, cool."
- - - - - - - - - -
"I don't – maybe these aren't – I don't wanna do another live chat."
Nick and Joe are staring at him, and he knew they'd be surprised but he's not sure if it's 'cause he doesn't want to do it, or 'cause he actually said so to Dad's face.
"Kevin, Joe understands - "
"It's got nothing to do with Joe. I just don't want to."
The silence is thick and uncomfortable; it's rare their father doesn't have an instant answer, but it's rarer for Kevin to speak up like this, unheard of for it to be for such a selfish reason. Joe glances at Nick, clears his throat, knocks his shoulder into Kevin's so Kevin will look at him, see the "chill, I got this" in his eyes.
"We could do it on our own, maybe, me and Nick."
"How do you think it would look for one of you to just skip one of the best ways of interacting with fans?" Dad's looking right at Kevin, didn't even really acknowledge Joe. "I understand that was uncomfortable for you, but you need to look past your own discomfort sometimes, where the band's involved."
"Dad, it - "
"No, I – it's fine, Joe. I'm being dumb, it's fine."
Joe looks at him, frowns, but doesn't say anything else.
- - - - - - - - - -
Nick's having one of those rare moments where he actually looks his age when Kevin finds him, sprawled out on the couch in a faded t-shirt and his boxers, watching SportsCenter and making noises ranging from happy to angry at the tv.
"You did that on purpose," Kevin says, when there's a commercial break and Nick can't try to shut the conversation down, at least not with the watching-tv excuse.
"Did what?"
"I don't like singing."
"You love singing. We can hear you singing in the shower from all over the house."
"That's singing, not...Singing."
"You are so full of shit," Nick says, sits up a little to make room for Kevin on the couch. "I'd apologize if I'd actually done anything wrong. You were boring – I mean, I know you didn't wanna do it, but you just...needed to loosen up."
There are a hundred more things Kevin wants to say, but nothing that'll make sense to the boy who's spent his whole life being told how good he is at everything, so he just sits down, smiles at the boy who just wants to help.
No warnings.
When Dad brings Kevin – any one of them – out to lunch, it's a Big Deal, 'cause Mom's the Friend who does lunches and shopping and stuff, and Dad's the Parent, and lunch means he's got something big to talk about and has to make absolutely sure Joe and Nick can't eavesdrop. Dad asked Kevin if he'd like to do a commercial while Joe and Nick were doing so well for themselves in musicals at a little diner, told him he was going to public school over the only meatloaf that's ever topped Mom's. Lunch with Dad has way less to do with food than business.
"Nick showed me some of the songs he's been working on," Dad says, while Kevin's mouth is full of sandwich. "I like where he's going."
"I didn't think he was ready to show you yet. Me and Joe wrote a lot, too."
Dad grabs a couple fries off Kevin's plate; he always gets a baked potato, because it's better for him, and always eats half of Kevin's fries. "Joe and I, not me and Joe. And I asked, wanted to see where he was going. We had a good talk."
Kevin nods, opens up his sandwich to take some of the lettuce off and then decides he wants it all anyway. It's a time-waster; as soon as he takes a bite, Dad's gonna say something, expect an answer, and just watch him while he chews.
"He's written quite a bit for you to sing."
"Not more than him or Joe."
"He and Joe are Broadway-caliber singers."
This time Kevin does take a bite, because he isn't sure what to say to that, exactly.
"Your guitar playing's really taking off; I think you should be focusing on that, instead."
"Am I not practicing enough?"
A few more fries go from Kevin's plate to Dad's mouth. "You're practicing plenty, Kevin. I mean as a performer, you should be focusing on your strengths. Joe on singing, you on your playing."
"And Nick?"
"Has enough focus for ten boys. Do you want to get dessert here, or go somewhere for ice cream?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Kevin isn't entirely sure how Joe managed to fall asleep in the middle of a songwriting session, but then even Nick was starting to look a little sleepy when he decided he needed to take a shower to wake up (quitting for the night was, apparently, not an option, not if a cold shower might give him another hour before his handwriting got unreadable) and his own eyelids are kind of heavy, so it's not all that surprising. He'll have to remember that the late night jam sessions have to happen wherever Joe's bed is, though, 'cause Joe sprawls and now there's no room on Kevin's bed for himself.
"What is that? I like it," Nick says, appearing from out of nowhere. Or out of the bathroom, whichever.
"Uh, just something me and Garbo were messing around with."
"Words?"
"Maybe. I've got, like, the beginning of something that'll probably fit. Um," Kevin shifts, grabs his notebook and flips through until he finds the right six or seven scribbled lines, passes it over.
Nick's eyes drift over the page once, twice, and he nods, smiles a little. "Play it again," he says, and settles in to listen with a look on his face like he's prepared for a masterpiece.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Busy?" Joe asks, flops down next to Kevin on the couch and starts to get comfy without waiting for an answer.
"No. Unless you want something, then yes."
Joe tosses a script at him, stretches out with his feet in Kevin's lap. "Help meeee, I suck."
"I'll help if you promise to record yourself saying 'I suck' for future use. And where's Demi?"
"Class with the little ones." Joe prods his sock-covered toes into Kevin's side, makes him squirm. "Be my Mitchie, or I'll tell everyone it's your fault the movie sucks."
"You should maybe start running lines when it's good for other people, stop burdening your last resort so much."
"Pfft, you'd be my first resort if it weren't so weird to want you to be my love interest all the time. I – okay, sometimes I hear the words that come out of my mouth, and I get those looks you're always giving me."
Kevin grins, flips to the kitchen scene Joe always stumbles over. "There's something wrong with you, you know that?"
"Dude, I'm not the one who's the best Mitchie, so there's something wrong with you. And don't tell Demi I said that, I'm too young to die."
- - - - - - - - - -
The only thing worse than walking into a conversation and feeling like you were the topic is walking into a conversation and knowing you were. Kevin thinks too highly of his father to think he planned it this way, that he took into account the long hallway and good acoustics and how loud Nick gets when he's frustrated; apparently, though, he doesn't think highly enough that the thought doesn't cross his mind.
"Do you want me to start assuming Joe's not gonna sing anymore, either, write vocals for someone else?"
"You're overreacting, Nicholas."
"You're being unfair. And he writes his own solos half the time, anyway, why aren't you talking to him about this?"
"I will be. And I'm sure he'll understand that it makes sense to split up the guitar duties a little more evenly between the guitarists."
"But it's not supposed to be even."
"It doesn't seem like a waste to you, to have a guitarist that good and not take advantage?"
"That's my point, Dad," Nick says, and Kevin doesn't have time to get out of the way before his younger brother's in the hallway, cheeks a little red the way they get when he's even a little worked up. Nick glances back at the door, gauges the distance, ducks his head when he turns back to Kevin. "I think me and Joe are gonna go shopping, wanna come?"
"I - "
Dad sticks his head out into the hall, blinks a little when he sees Nick standing there. "Kevin, I was just about to come find you. How about we go get some lunch?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Nicole tends to just stick herself where she wants to be, make conversations happen when she wants them to, so it's not that unusual when Kevin wanders into wardrobe just to find her leaning against the rack of the clothes he's supposed to try on at some point.
"I just checked with Nick and he says he'll have the song for 'Dream' all written by the end of the week. Do you wanna get together and rehearse around it before then, or wait for the magic to happen? 'Cause I could use a few - "
"There's no song."
"Nick and the script think there is. I just talked to him, he's stuck on you weighing the deaths of all those innocent plants I wilt against crushing my spirit. Or something."
Kevin sighs, runs his hand through his hair. "Um. Can I catch up with you later? I've gotta go talk to Nick."
Nicole arches an eyebrow, looks at him so intently he almost wants to blush, and nods. "Yeah, cool."
- - - - - - - - - -
"I don't – maybe these aren't – I don't wanna do another live chat."
Nick and Joe are staring at him, and he knew they'd be surprised but he's not sure if it's 'cause he doesn't want to do it, or 'cause he actually said so to Dad's face.
"Kevin, Joe understands - "
"It's got nothing to do with Joe. I just don't want to."
The silence is thick and uncomfortable; it's rare their father doesn't have an instant answer, but it's rarer for Kevin to speak up like this, unheard of for it to be for such a selfish reason. Joe glances at Nick, clears his throat, knocks his shoulder into Kevin's so Kevin will look at him, see the "chill, I got this" in his eyes.
"We could do it on our own, maybe, me and Nick."
"How do you think it would look for one of you to just skip one of the best ways of interacting with fans?" Dad's looking right at Kevin, didn't even really acknowledge Joe. "I understand that was uncomfortable for you, but you need to look past your own discomfort sometimes, where the band's involved."
"Dad, it - "
"No, I – it's fine, Joe. I'm being dumb, it's fine."
Joe looks at him, frowns, but doesn't say anything else.
- - - - - - - - - -
Nick's having one of those rare moments where he actually looks his age when Kevin finds him, sprawled out on the couch in a faded t-shirt and his boxers, watching SportsCenter and making noises ranging from happy to angry at the tv.
"You did that on purpose," Kevin says, when there's a commercial break and Nick can't try to shut the conversation down, at least not with the watching-tv excuse.
"Did what?"
"I don't like singing."
"You love singing. We can hear you singing in the shower from all over the house."
"That's singing, not...Singing."
"You are so full of shit," Nick says, sits up a little to make room for Kevin on the couch. "I'd apologize if I'd actually done anything wrong. You were boring – I mean, I know you didn't wanna do it, but you just...needed to loosen up."
There are a hundred more things Kevin wants to say, but nothing that'll make sense to the boy who's spent his whole life being told how good he is at everything, so he just sits down, smiles at the boy who just wants to help.