life is but a dream for the dead
Title: Brutal Love [2]
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Summary: “Pretty sure you're over the TSA limit here, Bill.”
Note: As I said: it was worth it to me if at least one person got something out, and as long as I know at least one person is reading, I'll continue to post. Thank you to those who did!
After a breakfast of pineapple pancakes and mimosas by the ocean, Billie and Mike returned to their hotel room to begin packing. In the fortnight they'd spent in the suite, their clothes had been mismatched and strewn haphazardly from the foot of the bed to the towel rod in the bathroom. It is the same scenario that greeted them whenever they travel, something that Billie ddidn't entirely understand, because at home, both of them are fairly neat and organized. Not perfect, to be sure - they were two fairly average men, after all, and with that comes a bit of messiness - but they pick uped after themselves at home. He blamed it on the luxury of vacation.
Billie Joe's hands were busy, folding and tucking away various t-shirts and shorts into his suitcase, but he paused to look out of the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony. Even from his vantage point in the middle of the room, he could see the beach, see the waves rolling, see the dots of human bodies scattered across the sand, some lounging in the shade of the many palm trees rooted in the ground. Billie smiled. As eager as was is to return home to see his little girl, Hawaii had its own special beauty, and he hoped to come back someday, maybe when Olivia was older and could appreciate the experience as well.
Mike emerged from the bathroom, his arms laden with different sized bottles and tubes, which he carried in Billie's direction. He released the load on to the bed, so that the array of hair care products thumped together on the mattress. “Pretty sure you're over the TSA limit here, Bill.”
“That's why I bought them when we got here,” the smaller man said, as he set back to loading up his rather large duffel bag. “I'll have to trash them or something.”
“Or you could donate them to the shelter we passed in the city,” Mike pointed out, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed. He picked up one of the bigger bottles for inspection. “I'm sure the homeless could really use some texturized bed head molding cream.”
Billie Joe smirked back at Mike's wickedly innocent expression and whiped the container out from his hands. “You're funny, really. Don't forget these aren't all mine. What about your spiking gel, hmm?”
“Yeah, my one product to your eleven.” He rolled his eyes. Mike caught his boyfriend's wrist when he tried to swat him across the head, pulling him closer as he himself stood. He looked down in to Billie's bright eyes and smiled. “No hitting. It'll only start a fight, and I don't have time to pin you down and prove my dominance, we have a flight to catch.”
“So sure of yourself,” the shorter of the two murmured, but he accepted the kiss Mike lowered to his lips because he knew his boyfriend was only joking. Billie snaked his arms around his torso, as they shuffled closer together. “You weren't looking so dominant the other night when I tied you naked to the bed.”
A touch of red covered Mike's cheeks. As comfortable as he was in their relationship, to do or try anything that has even the slightest possibility of being fun, he has a hard time reliving such escapades in conversation. In a lot of ways, Mike was still the sixteen year old boy who blushed the first time Billie Joe and him made out and mumbled an endless stream of apologies when he came nearly shortly after initially losing his virginity. It was part of why his boyfriend loved him so much. To cover up his flushed face, Mike kissed Billie again, this time slower, and deeper.
A rush of affection surged through him to see his boyfriend blush, however briefly, and he responded to the kiss gently as the hand he submerged into thick brown hair tugged the strands softly, his way of showing him that all was well and he understood. When they pulled apart, Billie murmured, “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you too,” Mike replied, a little hoarsely, as he bumped his nose against his boyfriend's. Their gaze was locked, and he continued, “And these two weeks have been amazing. I know I've been bitching about going home the past couple of days, but that's just because I miss our girl. I think we needed to get away together for a little while. The tour took a lot out of me, and it was nice to just relax and. . . enjoy you. You know?”
Billie Joe nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half smile. His eyes raked over Mike's face, reliving memorized worry lines and flecks of grey hidden among the light blue of Mike's irises, and he had to swallow. Billie had noticed his boyfriend's fatigue, particularly through the last leg in South America, and he couldn't deny to himself that it troubled him. He knew it came down to their age, a number that was creeping upward more quickly than he liked, but a nagging what if kept asking if perhaps it was more than that. It was a question Billie beat out of his head relentlessly. Mike always told him his brain was like a hamster wheel, and he knew his boyfriend was right.
A quizzical grin passed over the taller man's expression, and he gave Billie a quick squeeze. “Still with me, Armstrong?”
“Yeah, of course.” He shook those bothersome thoughts away and gave Mike a true smile, his hands sliding over Mike's shoulders to clasp around his neck. “I'm glad we did this too. I think we should more often. To reconnect.”
“Let's make a deal then. Once a year, we take two weeks for just the two of us. Next year we can go to Italy, or Amsterdam, or Guatemala or something.”
Billie couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth. “Guatemala? What the hell is in Guatemala?”
“The Mayan ruins! I've always wanted to see them, you know that. Ever since I saw that special on the History channel. . .”
“Okay, then Guatemala it is.” He was grinning, and it was completely involuntary, because his boyfriend was crazy and he was absolutely in love with him. “The Armstrong-Pritchard getaway of 2007 will be in Guatemala.”
“Sounds like a good goddamn plan,” Mike grinned back and smacked a chaste kiss on Billie Joe's mouth. “Now that that's settled, I have to piss. . .”
Laughing, he released his boyfriend, but he swatted him on the ass for good measure when he passed towards the bathroom. “Such a fucking romantic,” Billie mumbled sarcastically, mostly to himself, and sets back to his task of fitting everything back in to his suitcase. But the smile didn't leave his lips, because a very respectable sum of why he fell for Mike in the first place was that unyielding goofiness. To be sure, Billie had his own sense of humor, but it was nothing like his lover's carefree approach to much of life. He knew that, without Mike around to express those off the hand comments, life wouldn't have been as bright, or as fun.
A part of Billie Joe wished he could be that way. Although he didn't mean to, his brain always veered in a more serious, straightforward direction. It is this quality that has awarded him the title of “worry wart” and “mother hen” by his family, his bandmates, and his friends. Billie knews that this is why he couldn't always connect with his daughter as well as he wanted to at times, why Mike often had an easier time getting on her level. Sometimes it made Billie feel like he is less of a parent, but Mike was always there to remind him that there needed to be a balance when raising child. Between the two men, they found that in co-parenting Olivia, and at the end of the day, she loved them as equally as they did her.
It is with a great effort that Billie Joe finally eased the zipper all the way around the suitcase's opening - why did he pack so many pairs of shoes? - and he stepped back with his hands on his hips with a satisfied sigh. But then he eyed Mike's bag, torn open on the sofa across the room, articles of clothing exploding out of it like the volcano they had visited earlier in the week, as part of their tour of Hawaii. Billie rolled his eyes and began the same process on Mike's suitcase, since he knew it would be easier that way.
When Mike finally came back out from the bathroom, Billie was nearly done packing away Mike's things. He padded over, a stray pair of sweatpants balled up in his hands, saying, “You don't have to do that, you know.”
“Too late, I'm pretty much finished.” Billie Joe looked up at Mike with a smile, but it faltered when he saw the odd expression on his boyfriend's face. The lines of his mouth were taut and he appeared troubled; it was a much different look than the one he had before disappearing. “Are you okay, Mike?”
At first, Mike looked at him as if he doesn't understand the question, but then he nodded, handing over the sweatpants into Billie's outstretched palm. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just ready to go home.”
“You're in luck, our flight leaves in two and a half hours. We should probably start heading for the airport.”
“Sounds good, I'll go flag down a shuttle.”
Billie watched Mike leave with puzzled eyes. He didn't understand how his boyfriend's demeanor could change so completely in only a matter of minutes. But, in the spirit of his ever persevering need to rationalize his hamster wheel thoughts, Billie Joe guessed Mike was constipated, like he himself was on the strange diet they had enjoyed while in Hawaii.
For the last time, he approached the sliding glass windows and lingered in the doorway, drinking in the sight of the Pacific Ocean and its perfect white sand. His heart would always belong to California, with its own dirty beaches and cylindrical waves, but Hawaii had a special beauty that his soul would undoubtedly remember. As Billie turned away, to put on his sneakers and his trusty leather jacket, he said not goodbye, but see you later.
--
#greendayforever
just sayin'
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Summary: “Pretty sure you're over the TSA limit here, Bill.”
Note: As I said: it was worth it to me if at least one person got something out, and as long as I know at least one person is reading, I'll continue to post. Thank you to those who did!
After a breakfast of pineapple pancakes and mimosas by the ocean, Billie and Mike returned to their hotel room to begin packing. In the fortnight they'd spent in the suite, their clothes had been mismatched and strewn haphazardly from the foot of the bed to the towel rod in the bathroom. It is the same scenario that greeted them whenever they travel, something that Billie ddidn't entirely understand, because at home, both of them are fairly neat and organized. Not perfect, to be sure - they were two fairly average men, after all, and with that comes a bit of messiness - but they pick uped after themselves at home. He blamed it on the luxury of vacation.
Billie Joe's hands were busy, folding and tucking away various t-shirts and shorts into his suitcase, but he paused to look out of the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony. Even from his vantage point in the middle of the room, he could see the beach, see the waves rolling, see the dots of human bodies scattered across the sand, some lounging in the shade of the many palm trees rooted in the ground. Billie smiled. As eager as was is to return home to see his little girl, Hawaii had its own special beauty, and he hoped to come back someday, maybe when Olivia was older and could appreciate the experience as well.
Mike emerged from the bathroom, his arms laden with different sized bottles and tubes, which he carried in Billie's direction. He released the load on to the bed, so that the array of hair care products thumped together on the mattress. “Pretty sure you're over the TSA limit here, Bill.”
“That's why I bought them when we got here,” the smaller man said, as he set back to loading up his rather large duffel bag. “I'll have to trash them or something.”
“Or you could donate them to the shelter we passed in the city,” Mike pointed out, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed. He picked up one of the bigger bottles for inspection. “I'm sure the homeless could really use some texturized bed head molding cream.”
Billie Joe smirked back at Mike's wickedly innocent expression and whiped the container out from his hands. “You're funny, really. Don't forget these aren't all mine. What about your spiking gel, hmm?”
“Yeah, my one product to your eleven.” He rolled his eyes. Mike caught his boyfriend's wrist when he tried to swat him across the head, pulling him closer as he himself stood. He looked down in to Billie's bright eyes and smiled. “No hitting. It'll only start a fight, and I don't have time to pin you down and prove my dominance, we have a flight to catch.”
“So sure of yourself,” the shorter of the two murmured, but he accepted the kiss Mike lowered to his lips because he knew his boyfriend was only joking. Billie snaked his arms around his torso, as they shuffled closer together. “You weren't looking so dominant the other night when I tied you naked to the bed.”
A touch of red covered Mike's cheeks. As comfortable as he was in their relationship, to do or try anything that has even the slightest possibility of being fun, he has a hard time reliving such escapades in conversation. In a lot of ways, Mike was still the sixteen year old boy who blushed the first time Billie Joe and him made out and mumbled an endless stream of apologies when he came nearly shortly after initially losing his virginity. It was part of why his boyfriend loved him so much. To cover up his flushed face, Mike kissed Billie again, this time slower, and deeper.
A rush of affection surged through him to see his boyfriend blush, however briefly, and he responded to the kiss gently as the hand he submerged into thick brown hair tugged the strands softly, his way of showing him that all was well and he understood. When they pulled apart, Billie murmured, “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you too,” Mike replied, a little hoarsely, as he bumped his nose against his boyfriend's. Their gaze was locked, and he continued, “And these two weeks have been amazing. I know I've been bitching about going home the past couple of days, but that's just because I miss our girl. I think we needed to get away together for a little while. The tour took a lot out of me, and it was nice to just relax and. . . enjoy you. You know?”
Billie Joe nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half smile. His eyes raked over Mike's face, reliving memorized worry lines and flecks of grey hidden among the light blue of Mike's irises, and he had to swallow. Billie had noticed his boyfriend's fatigue, particularly through the last leg in South America, and he couldn't deny to himself that it troubled him. He knew it came down to their age, a number that was creeping upward more quickly than he liked, but a nagging what if kept asking if perhaps it was more than that. It was a question Billie beat out of his head relentlessly. Mike always told him his brain was like a hamster wheel, and he knew his boyfriend was right.
A quizzical grin passed over the taller man's expression, and he gave Billie a quick squeeze. “Still with me, Armstrong?”
“Yeah, of course.” He shook those bothersome thoughts away and gave Mike a true smile, his hands sliding over Mike's shoulders to clasp around his neck. “I'm glad we did this too. I think we should more often. To reconnect.”
“Let's make a deal then. Once a year, we take two weeks for just the two of us. Next year we can go to Italy, or Amsterdam, or Guatemala or something.”
Billie couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth. “Guatemala? What the hell is in Guatemala?”
“The Mayan ruins! I've always wanted to see them, you know that. Ever since I saw that special on the History channel. . .”
“Okay, then Guatemala it is.” He was grinning, and it was completely involuntary, because his boyfriend was crazy and he was absolutely in love with him. “The Armstrong-Pritchard getaway of 2007 will be in Guatemala.”
“Sounds like a good goddamn plan,” Mike grinned back and smacked a chaste kiss on Billie Joe's mouth. “Now that that's settled, I have to piss. . .”
Laughing, he released his boyfriend, but he swatted him on the ass for good measure when he passed towards the bathroom. “Such a fucking romantic,” Billie mumbled sarcastically, mostly to himself, and sets back to his task of fitting everything back in to his suitcase. But the smile didn't leave his lips, because a very respectable sum of why he fell for Mike in the first place was that unyielding goofiness. To be sure, Billie had his own sense of humor, but it was nothing like his lover's carefree approach to much of life. He knew that, without Mike around to express those off the hand comments, life wouldn't have been as bright, or as fun.
A part of Billie Joe wished he could be that way. Although he didn't mean to, his brain always veered in a more serious, straightforward direction. It is this quality that has awarded him the title of “worry wart” and “mother hen” by his family, his bandmates, and his friends. Billie knews that this is why he couldn't always connect with his daughter as well as he wanted to at times, why Mike often had an easier time getting on her level. Sometimes it made Billie feel like he is less of a parent, but Mike was always there to remind him that there needed to be a balance when raising child. Between the two men, they found that in co-parenting Olivia, and at the end of the day, she loved them as equally as they did her.
It is with a great effort that Billie Joe finally eased the zipper all the way around the suitcase's opening - why did he pack so many pairs of shoes? - and he stepped back with his hands on his hips with a satisfied sigh. But then he eyed Mike's bag, torn open on the sofa across the room, articles of clothing exploding out of it like the volcano they had visited earlier in the week, as part of their tour of Hawaii. Billie rolled his eyes and began the same process on Mike's suitcase, since he knew it would be easier that way.
When Mike finally came back out from the bathroom, Billie was nearly done packing away Mike's things. He padded over, a stray pair of sweatpants balled up in his hands, saying, “You don't have to do that, you know.”
“Too late, I'm pretty much finished.” Billie Joe looked up at Mike with a smile, but it faltered when he saw the odd expression on his boyfriend's face. The lines of his mouth were taut and he appeared troubled; it was a much different look than the one he had before disappearing. “Are you okay, Mike?”
At first, Mike looked at him as if he doesn't understand the question, but then he nodded, handing over the sweatpants into Billie's outstretched palm. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just ready to go home.”
“You're in luck, our flight leaves in two and a half hours. We should probably start heading for the airport.”
“Sounds good, I'll go flag down a shuttle.”
Billie watched Mike leave with puzzled eyes. He didn't understand how his boyfriend's demeanor could change so completely in only a matter of minutes. But, in the spirit of his ever persevering need to rationalize his hamster wheel thoughts, Billie Joe guessed Mike was constipated, like he himself was on the strange diet they had enjoyed while in Hawaii.
For the last time, he approached the sliding glass windows and lingered in the doorway, drinking in the sight of the Pacific Ocean and its perfect white sand. His heart would always belong to California, with its own dirty beaches and cylindrical waves, but Hawaii had a special beauty that his soul would undoubtedly remember. As Billie turned away, to put on his sneakers and his trusty leather jacket, he said not goodbye, but see you later.
--
#greendayforever
just sayin'