Title: Bulletproof Heart, a Robin Hood AU, Part 9 - 10
Author: starflowers
Recipient: wayfarersgirl
Prompt: Slow, romantic getting-together fic with plenty of angst throughout and warm sappiness at the end. Contemporary non-canon!AU (post-high school) is my favorite, but that's secondary to the general feel of drawn out, angsty, falling in love.
Word count: Nearly 20 000



-9-

“Idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot. I knew you were going to do something stupid.”

One of Kevin’s eyes was swollen shut. The other one opened a crack. “Nic?” he croaked.

Her ranting stopped abruptly and she said, “Hey, Kev. How’re you feeling?”

“Bad,” he managed to say, and she held a cup of cool water to his lips.

“Sip carefully,” she cautioned. “You’ve got smoke inhalation, on top of everything else.”

He obeyed, and when the cup was gone, asked, “Mike?”

“Passenger seat. He’s fine. A little bit of smoke inhalation, nothing too major.” There was a brief pause and he let his relief sweep over him, nearly lulling him back to sleep. “If you weren’t all bruises already, Kevin Jonas, I’d kill you,” she snarled, and then burst into tears.

He blinked up at her helplessly. When he tried to reach for her, he found he had no mobility at all, but even the attempt sent his nerves firing blinding pain signals to his brain.

“Shut up,” she sobbed, and then she was gone. The world was rocking with a soothing rhythm he didn’t understand at first. They hit a bump and he realized he was in the back of a vehicle, and then the faint moonlight and streetlight was blocked as Mike crawled back to take Nic’s place.

“I was coming back,” Kevin said, after a few beats of silence. His voice worked better since the water, but it was still rough.

“Not if you were dead you weren’t,” Mike snapped.

Kevin inched his hand closer to Mike, who had very carefully not touched him. Two of the fingers on that hand were bandaged but he still managed to slip his hand into Mike’s. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Mike swore softly and took his hand gently. “You have three broken fingers,” he said. “Among other things.”

“I’m okay.”

“Because Nic pumped you full of drugs.”

Kevin let out a faint breath and then said, “Did you get the box open?”

“4.6 million dollars in investments, stocks, bonds, and cash,” Mike said tonelessly.

“Trust fund,” he said faintly.

“Not worth your life,” Mike snarled.

“Worth it for you.”

“No.”

There was more he needed to say. “My father raided the safe houses,” he confessed.

Mike’s grip tightened on his hand. “I know,” he said. “Did you tell them about the farm?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” Mike whispered. “They wouldn’t have hurt you so badly if you had.”

“He took your friends, we have to—”

“We’ve got it under control,” Mike said firmly. “You’re just... getting better. Jesus, Kevin, you almost—”

“My father—”

“Wants Gee in exchange for the others.” He hesitated. “There were children, Kevin.”

“You can’t—He can’t—”

“He’s not. Gee’s planning the rescue raid.”

“I can help,” he argued.

“You can barely stay awake.” He kissed Kevin’s forehead lightly.

“Genie...”

“Stuck her in the other car with Spence,” he said, stroking Kevin’s hair. “She’s fine. She found you. That’s—when we heard what happened, with the safe houses, and you were gone, and I totally fucking freaked out...and...”

Kevin fell asleep still clutching his hand.

*

He woke when the van jerked to a stop, gasping and reaching out blindly for Mike. “Shh,” Mike whispered. He was checking the safety of his gun. “We’ll be back really soon.”

“Guns blazing—that isn’t a plan,” Kevin hissed, struggling to sit up.

Mike grinned dangerously. “Works for me.” He leaned down and kissed Kevin hard. “I’ll come back. Promise. Nic’s staying with you. You better be here when I get back.” He pressed Kevin’s ring into his hand and was gone before Kevin could force himself to sit up.

The pain was muffled now, courtesy of whatever drugs Nicole had given him, but the aches were still there, the bones not quite working as they should. He couldn’t follow and she climbed over the passenger seat to sit with him.

“I’m under strict orders to keep you safe and get you out of here if they’re not back in half an hour,” she said quietly.

“Where are we?”

“We’re at your dad’s house, Kevin.”

He groaned quietly. “He’s going to slaughter them.”

“Apparently your dad set it up that Gerard was supposed to come. Mikey too, but he’s not, obviously. But the others are sneaking in through your old bedroom. Mike said... said he was an expert at it, that they can get in without anyone knowing, to get the others out before your dad even realizes.”

Shots rang out from the house and Kevin flinched. “It’s not going to work,” he said. “It’s not working. There are guards, there are always guards, Nic, you have to help me, I have to help them!”

More shots fired and the shot of adrenaline almost made up for the fact that his ribs weren’t sitting right, and the place where his left leg joined his hip didn’t seem to meet up the way it should. He still managed to shove the back doors of the van open and stagger out onto the street.

“Oh, god,” she mumbled, but she was right there beside him, pulling a gun out of a thigh holster he’d never seen her wear before. “You focus on walking,” she said grimly. “I’ll cover you. C’mon.”

They made it to the entry way.

“St-stop or I’ll—Kevin?”

Kevin turned slowly, carefully, hissing out a pained breath, but it was just Frankie, fourteen years old, holding a gun, and looking pale and terrified. He dropped the gun when he saw Kevin’s face, and inched closer. “What—what happened? You’re bleeding, and you’re—who—I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said, voice shaking. “There were gunshots, did you hear? And—and there are these kids, and they’re all bruised up and locked in the basement—Kev, they’re just kids.”

Nic picked up Frankie’s gun and handed it back to him, hesitating only a moment. “Can you get them out, Frankie?” she asked him gently. “Get all the kids out and—there’s a van parked along side of the house, can you take them there?”

“But father put them there,” Frankie said slowly, shooting Kevin a nervous look. “Did they hurt you? The guys with guns? Kevin—”

“Big Rob hurt me,” Kevin told him quietly. “And then he left me tied up and set my house on fire.”

Frankie’s eyes widened. “But you’re family,” he said, voice cracking painfully.

There was shouting from the family room in the back of the house—Mike, it sounded like, high and furious. Another gunshot rang out and a body hit the floor. “Frankie,” Kevin said desperately. “If you can’t get them out for us, just... just hide in your room, alright? Until it’s over.”

“It’ll never be over,” Frankie whispered, and Kevin tried to smile reassuringly at him but Mike may be dead and it hurt to breathe and his mouth hurt too much to manage it.

Nic led the way towards where the gunshots had come from, and everyone in the room was too distracted by the blood and the tension to notice him in the doorway. His father was there, seated calmly behind his desk, flanked by Big Rob, who held a gun at his side, fingers twitching on the trigger. He couldn’t lift it, however, because Mike stood there with Gerard and Spencer. Mike was holding a gun to Nick’s temple, and Joe was on the ground, bleeding and moaning softly.

“Last chance,” Gerard said quietly.

Mike’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“You want your last son left alone, I suggest you let my family go,” Gerard added. “And if any of them are hurt, you’ll fucking pay for it.”

His father smiled and said, “He’s hardly the last son, Gerard. Let’s see. With Kevin gone—” Mike growled but didn’t say anything. “And Joe out of commission, and you’ve got Nick—well, there’s still Frankie, isn’t there? And you don’t seem to have him.”

Nick swallowed a plea but Mike tightened the hand that was tangled in the collar of his pyjamas, cutting off his breath. “You remember Frankie, don’t you, Mr. Carden?” Kevin’s father smiled politely. “I suspect you might, given that my eldest son chose to shoot you over him, though I can’t see how you managed to survive that. He’s a crack shot.”

“I missed,” Kevin said suddenly, shakily, from the doorway.

Mike sucked in a startled breath and half turned, Nick using that opportunity to jerk away, falling to his knees and crawling to Joe. Big Rob’s gun was up in an instant, pointed at Gerard’s face, and Spencer hissed, “What the fuck, Kevin.”

“Back from the dead?” His father was, as always, unruffled. “Pity.”

“I missed,” Kevin said again, stepping into the room. “Three shots, right, father? Once in the lung, once in the heart, and then the throat; no one can survive that. Execution. You don’t even have to stick around to make sure it worked, if one glances of bone, one of the other has to hit its target, at least. One graze, one lodged in bone, and the other in the shoulder. You have to let them go.”

“Do forgive me, KJ,” said his father. “But I don’t have to do anything of the sort.”

“Kevin,” Mike hissed. “Get out of here.”

“They aren’t like you,” Kevin continued, stepping farther into the room, feeling naked without a gun. Behind him, Nic breathed quickly with panic, and Big Rob carefully cocked his gun. “They’re just trying to survive, they’re—they’re heroes, Dad. They don’t hurt people and they don’t ruin things just because they can, and they don’t—”

His father took out a gun, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, except that for all of Kevin’s life, his dad had never wanted to get his own hands dirty. He aimed the gun at Kevin and said softly, “A crack shot. Taught him myself. You’re a complete embarrassment, Kevin. I’ve always known you didn’t have what it takes—”

“Father,” Frankie said from the doorway, his voice small and childlike.

“—Even when you were a child. And then falling in with this crowd.” He snorted.

“Father.”

“You were never a part of this family,” his father finished, and Kevin held his breath, waiting for the shot, wishing he hadn’t left the van and fucked all of this up for everybody else.

“Daddy,” Frankie sobbed. “This isn’t a family, it’s a nightmare.” He fired three times—heart, lung, throat-- and Kevin’s dad was dead before his head hit the back of his chair. Big Rob fired, but the bullet went wide as Nic’s bullet took him out, and Mike was there suddenly, standing between Kevin and all the guns and hissing, “You idiot, you fucking idiot, I said wait in the car.”

Frankie was sobbing and Nick was up off the ground in a heartbeat, pulling him into a tight hug, talking softly to him, and Kevin had forgotten how to breathe.

He stared up at Mike, eyes wide, dull, and Mike cupped his face gently and said, “Breathe for me. I’m sorry. Just breathe.”

Gerard and Spencer shouted something, leaving the room, probably going to get the kids from the basement, but Kevin couldn’t comprehend it. His father was dead—Frankie killed his father—Nic was beside Joe, coaxing him softly as she examined the bullet —harmlessly lodged in the fleshy part of his arm—and his daddy was dead.

Kevin darted a panicked look at his father, whose eyes were still wide and staring up at the ceiling, and then Big Rob, whose face had been obliterated by the bullet.

His knees gave out and he started to heave, as if he meant to puke, but it was too much for his ribs and he lost consciousness, giving into the screaming agony twisting up his chest.


-10-

Kevin’s mind was a skipping stone. He remembered a lot of things that faded before they were tangible, and he was aware, distantly, of what was happening around him from time to time, but nothing made a lasting impression, except for a deep, deep pain that was worse than anything anyone had ever done to his body.

When the skipping stopped and regular thought pattern started again, it was because Genie had leapt up onto the bed with him. She’d jostled him and the resulting echo of pain was enough to rouse him, because someone had turned down the drugs fed through his IV.

Genie wasn’t very apologetic about it. She stretched out along his side, gently rested her head on the sling that supported his arm, and stared into his eyes with a quiet sort of reproach, as if nearly dying had been his intention when he’d left her behind.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled, lips less swollen than they had been, less cracked. In fact, they nearly felt healed entirely.

He could see, as well. The swelling on both eyes had gone down, it barely hurt to let his gaze run over the room, searching for identifiable features. It was not a hospital room, it was not his bedroom. It was not a hotel, and it was not the back of a van.

He finally found Mike, slumped in an armchair in the corner, sporting an impressive black eye and marks of exhaustion on his face. Then he found Joe and Nick, sitting on chairs at his bedside. Joe was playing with his phone and Nick was doing a Sudoku puzzle. They both had earphones in.

Kevin’s arm, the one currently not slung against his chest and pinned there by a reproachful Pit Bull, seemed mostly fine, save for the three broken fingers. He shifted it, reaching for Nick, but only managed the barest movement before Nick noticed, dropping his book, tugging his earphones off, and saying, “Kevin! Kev, hey, hi, how are you?”

Joe followed, setting his iPod aside, slipping his phone into his pocket, and adding, “Your boyfriend shot me.”

“How long have I…”

“Five days,” Nick said, grimacing. “Nic wanted to take you to a hospital but that kid-- Mikey?”

“Older than you,” Kevin felt the need to point out. Nick waved his statement away with a vague gesture.

“Mikey. Yeah. Insisted you stay here.”

“Where?”

“Oh! At the-- it’s this little farm house thing?” He looked a little lost. “I don’t know. Mike said it was safe.”

Kevin was achingly confused and his throat hurt too much for all the questions he had. Maybe Joe could see it on his face, because he said, “After the-- after everything at home, everyone was freaking out. Dad had-- there were kids in the basement, some were hurt. I was shot. Uh. Mike dragged you out, and everyone was leaving and Nic… asked if we wanted to come.” He shrugged with his good shoulder. The other arm was still bandaged. “So we did. Before the cops showed up.”

It made very little sense to Kevin, and he said weakly, “You shot Brendon, Nicky. Why would they-- you shot him.”

“And your boyfriend shot me!” Joe cried. “We’re even! Besides, trust me, trust me, Spencer Smith has dealt with that. It’s all cleared up now.”

“Boyfriend,” Kevin echoed uncertainly, glancing at Mike.

“Yep,” Joe said, gleeful now. “Nick totally punched him, too, see?”

Kevin’s horrified gaze flew to Nick who looked wholly unconcerned. “Dude. He shot Joe.” Kevin’s small sound expressed all the helpless confusion he had no words for, and Nick patted his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said. “Well. It’s kind of shit actually, I have no idea-- Dad’s dead-- and Big Rob, and some of the others, but.” He thought for a moment. “All the kids are alright, mostly. Cut and bruised but nothing too damaging. Oh. And Mikey Way’s doing loads better now, Gerard wanted me to tell you when you woke up. And…” he trailed off.

“Frankie?” Kevin asked, and Nick’s eyes filled up with tears.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s-- yeah. Frankie’s here too. He’s… okay.”

“Wants to go to Disney Land,” Joe said with half a grin. “Nicky and I are totally taking him. Road trip. You in?”

Kevin hesitated, looking at Mike again, and then Nick sighed. “Told you, idiot,” he said to Joe, who rolled his eyes and handed over a twenty dollar bill.

“He’s so handsome,” Joe mumbled. “Just like his reward poster. Right, Kevin?”

Kevin was too busy staring in shock to say anything, and Joe rolled his eyes again. “You know, Robin Hood?” he said. “Disney? Don’t tell me you missed out on that part of your childhood too.”

“No,” Kevin said softly. “I got it. The reference, and the Disney part. Is he-- when d’you think he’ll wake up?”

Nick sighed again, getting up, kicking at Joe when he didn’t follow. “Now, I suspect,” Nick said, and he kicked Mike hard in the shin as he left the room.

Mike jerked with a yelp, waking up and looking like shit-- panicky, concerned, absolutely adorable, and Kevin smiled uncertainly at him. “Hey, sorry,” he said. “My brothers are dicks.”

“You turned out okay,” Mike said, voice husky from sleep. He got up, stretched, shot them glares as they tumbled into the hallway, still laughing, and said, “So we’re giving them the benefit of the doubt. Hey. You’re awake.” He reached over Kevin to stroke Genie’s silky ears.

Mike let his hand drift from Genie, who had fallen into a deep, pleased sleep, to Kevin’s wrist, thumb stroking along the delicate bone there. “Nick punched you?” Kevin asked, studying the bruise up close.

Mike grinned, quick and fierce. “Only after Spencer nearly killed him,” he said. “I think it all worked out to about even.”

Kevin let out a small breath he hadn’t known he was holding and closed his eyes. “I think I lost my ring. It got kind of crazy in there.”

“It’s alright.” Mike’s voice had dropped to a soft whisper, like he thought Kevin was falling asleep. “I never needed it to remember you, anyway. And… and maybe it’s better that way.”

When Kevin looked at him, Mike looked uncertain and worried. “Better how?”

“I don’t know, Kevin, that ring represented your father and your family and look what they did to you. Maybe it’s better that it’s gone, with everything else.”

He nodded slowly, carefully, and then said, “What happens now?”

“Now you get better,” Mike said simply. “Everyone else who was hurt is getting better too. Mikey’s out of bed whenever Nic’s not paying attention, hovering over you.” He hesitated and then said, “Your brothers keep talking about leaving.”

“Yeah,” Kevin whispered. “They said.”

Mike fidgeted and asked, “Do you want to go with them?” just as Kevin asked, “Do you still not want me to stay?”

They stared at each other and Kevin looked away first, focussing on Genie, who had never looked quite so content. “Genie really likes it here, with you. And Brendon and Gerard and everyone else.”

“Yeah?” Mike asked. He was smoothing Kevin’s hair back, touching the places on his face that weren’t bruised, like he just needed to touch him to reassure himself that Kevin was still there, still solid.

“Uh huh. I know she’d like to stay.”

Mike’s hand fell to Kevin’s shoulder, fingers brushing his pulse point, and he asked very quietly, “What about you?”

Kevin closed his eyes. “I don’t want to go either,” he confessed. “Is that-- you said you didn’t want me here.”

“Because it wasn’t safe,” Mike said. “I’ve always wanted to be wherever you are.”

“Is it safe yet?” Kevin asked wistfully, and Mike hesitated.

“I don’t know. No one knows what’s going to happen, now that your father’s gone. There were others who wanted his place, want his power, but they’re still fighting about it. The cops are investigating and they’ll probably want to talk to you whenever they find you. If they find you.”

“It might never be safe,” Kevin realized, shoulders slumping. “I’ll never be able to be with--”

Mike kissed him, the lightest brush against the corner of his mouth, where he hadn’t been hurt. “I can keep you safe,” he said fiercely. “We can keep you safe, Kevin. We should have always been keeping you safe.”

“I kept myself pretty safe,” Kevin felt it necessary to remind him. “Mostly. I had guard dogs, you know.” He grinned slowly, softly, and Mike did the same.

For a moment, they just stared at each other but the silence wasn’t awkward this time. “I wish you weren’t bruised all over,” Mike said finally, breathlessly.

“Yeah? Me either, it kind of hurts--”

“Because seriously, Jonas, I’ve wanted to get my hands all over you since--”

“Oh wow,” Kevin breathed, flushing and staring and grinning like a fool. “I’ll heal, you know, and if you let me stay--”

“Let you stay? See if I let you go,” Mike said, just as sweet and breathless as he had been at sixteen.

He tried to kiss Kevin again, another gentle brush of lips, but Kevin growled faintly, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him down so he could kiss him properly.

Genie woke up, huffed as Mike carefully, carefully climbed into bed beside Kevin, and slid of the bed, shaking herself vigorously and curling up by the door.

It hurt a little, the way the bed moved beneath Mike as he slipped closer, the way Mike’s hands brushed the places that hurt no matter how careful he was, but Kevin barely noticed and certainly didn’t care. They curled up together, kissing softly, and Kevin fell into the sweetest sleep he could ever remember, and he dreamed.

“Why do you keep coming back?” Kevin, ten years old, asked Mike, who instantly looked defensive.

“Why do you keep letting me in?” he asked, arms crossed over his skinny chest. He was wearing a denim jacket and it was winter. Kevin kind of hoped Mike find the winter jacket he had stuffed in one of the bags and keep it for himself, and at least one of the blankets.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, like Mike was being particularly stupid.

Mike’s arms relaxed a bit and he smiled, crooked and boyish and utterly charming. “Yeah?” he asked. “I guess you’re just about the best person I know.”

No one had ever, ever thought Kevin was a good person before. “I wish I could go with you when you leave,” he said wistfully.

Mike touched the tip of his nose and his smile grew sweet, “One day,” he promised. “I’ll take you with me one day.”

They skipped the fort of sheets that day, curled up on the floor with Bambi and Flower, who always gave good warning before father came home, and watched Robin Hood… It had become Kevin’s favourite.

He fell asleep before the end, however, his head on Mike’s shoulder just as Robin Hood declared, “You don't just walk up to a girl, hand her a bouquet and say, ‘Hey, remember me? We were kids together. Will you marry me?’ No, it just isn't done that way…”

The end.