there's a shopping cart in the ravine
Title: Brutal Love [11]
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Summary: “I'm ready for anything,” Billie promised, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, “more than ten years with you has helped with that."
Previous Parts: located here
Because they would have to put Mike under for the biopsy, he had been given a hospital room and a sterile blue dressing gown in which to wait in. He sat, perched on the edge of the unforgiving mattress with scratchy sheets, fingers gripping the underside of the bed so tightly it hurt. Billie was sitting across from him, in a straight-backed, minimally padded chair, bent over with his forearms resting on his knees. He kept playing with his fingers, tugging on each one and repeating, as he stared hard at the pale skin of Mike's ankle; that damn vine tattoo seemed so dark there, no matter how faded.
They hadn't been waiting long, but it felt like forever. A nurse had already swept in and out, taking his blood pressure and temperature, assuring them both with a winning smile that the doctor would be in for them shortly. Mike had merely nodded, as Billie thanked her with a feeble smile. The couple hadn't spoken to each other all morning, except for a few meaningless comments on the drive over. They had performed a very convincing act for Olivia, however, telling her that Aunt Aly would be getting her off the bus that afternoon because Mommy and Daddy had to go to a meeting with Uncle Tre about their music. The lie came far too easy, because never in a million years could they dream of telling their little gift the truth.
For someone who had achieved next to no sleep the night before and was banned from coffee for the procedure, Mike was very awake. His mind-much like Billie Joe's-was speeding away with thoughts, most of them, admittedly, not very good. Billie had done all he could to instill some optimism into Mike last night, hoping some of it would rub off on himself to be sure, and while Mike's heart was set on positive results, the reality was it could go either away. And judging from the way the doctor had looked at him after going over his scans, he had a pretty ominous feeling of what kind of news the biopsy would bring.
Worst of all, the doctor had told them the results wouldn't come back from the lab until Monday afternoon. That meant three whole days, a weekend of waiting, and Mike wasn't sure either of them would be able to handle it. Billie was already fighting valiantly against a threatening panic attack, and if it wasn't for the cocktail of Xanax and Excedrin Mike had insisted he take, Billie Joe would not be sitting as outwardly calm as he was.
Another nurse squeaked down the hall in her sneakers, and Mike sighed; he couldn't take it anymore. He lifted his hands, in a beckoning gesture, saying, “Bill, come here.”
Billie hardly hesitated. He got to his feet and stepped into Mike's outstretched arms, petting brown hair softly as he murmured, “I am here, Mikey. Always gonna be.”
Mike simply let his forehead rest against Billie's chest for a moment, where he was level. He kneaded his boyfriend's spine gently, and when he finally had the courage to look up into his eyes again, Mike said, “It could be cancer, baby. We both know that going in?”
A helpless, pained breath slipped from Billie Joe's lips, and another lump came rearing back up into his throat. His fingers stuttered along Mike's brow, and he shook his head slowly. “Don't say that, darlin'. It could just as easily be nothing.”
“I know,” Mike acknowledged with a nod. The neutral surroundings of the hospital room allowed him a few minutes of reprieve from his emotions, and the ability to see the situation clearly for a change helped, a bit. He had to be tough; he had to be strong. “But if it isn't nothing-if it's cancer-I just want us both to be prepared.”
“I'm ready for anything,” Billie promised a ghost of a smile touching his lips, “more than ten years with you has helped with that. And I'm counting on another ten. Another fifty, actually.”
Mike actually smiled back, and as one of his hands closed around Billie's, the other pressed against the side of his boyfriend's long throat, to pull him down a little closer. “I love you, Billie Joe.”
“I love you too.”
Billie bent enough to meet Mike's tilting head for a slow kiss, all lips, and lingering. It was a moment of comfort for both men, a mutual reassurance of their devotion to one another, and Mike especially needed that now more than he ever had. Kissing also served as a heartfelt distraction, and they carried on until a throat clearing made them turn their heads.
Dr. Pierce, Mike's oncologist, stood at the end of Mike's bed, dressed in scrubs the same color as Mike's gown with his hands folded in front him. When he had their attention, he smiled warmly, as a pair of nurses trickled into the room as well. “We're ready for you, Mr. Pritchard.”
Mike let out a long breath and allowed the nurses to haul his legs back up onto the bed. They clipped a pulse reader on his finger, pulled the bed down so he could lie flat, and began prepping the back of his hand for an IV. His heart rate quickened at once, verified by the blipping machine he was connected to, and Mike's stomach did another turn as he realized the wait was over; he was going into surgery, even if it was a minor one.
“Don't worry, Mr. Armstrong, Mike is in very good hands,” Dr. Pierce was saying to Billie, who was watching the attention Mike was getting apprehensively. “Really, this shouldn't take more than an hour, when it's all said and done.”
He nodded, suddenly very aware of the cold sweat trickling down his back, and he moved forward to grip Mike's free hand tightly; they were putting up the rails on the bed, getting ready to move him, and Billie Joe knew he could not follow. He bent down for another chaste kiss, smiling watery reassurance. “I'll be right outside waiting, Mikey, right here when you wake up.”
“I know you will be. . .” Mike kissed Billie's hand and gave it a squeeze, to show he was okay. . . more or less.
“I'll take you home, and we'll have Froot Loops for dinner. Livy will love it.”
He felt a pang at his daughter's name, and he gave Billie the best smile he could manage. “Can't wait. Love you, Bill,” he repeated, as he was forced to release his boyfriend's hand when the nurses began to push his bed towards the door.
“Love you back,” Billie Joe called, watching him go, and smiled when Dr. Pierce gave him a thumbs up.
Waiting wasn't one of the things Billie was good at; or the better way to phrase it, would be to say that patience was one of the virtues nature had deprived him of. Sometimes his mom would tell him that patience was something to be learned, as well, but he had never really bothered to try. It made him a very poor example, where his daughter was concerned, but luckily, Mike had plenty enough for the both of them.
So, unsurprisingly, Billie was unable to keep still. He had started out sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room, drinking a cup of lukewarm coffee (decaf) and scanning through his phone for something useful to occupy him. But Billie Joe's leg started bouncing, so much so that the woman across from him gave him a disapproving look over the top of her Women's Health magazine. That's when he decided he wasn't doing anybody any favors by fidgeting around in his chair, so he took to pacing the hallway that led to the operating rooms. At least, that way, he would be right there when Dr. Pierce came through to give him an update.
Billie was on his fourth fruitless upload to his e-mail when his phone began to vibrate actively in his hand, and Aly's name popped up the screen. A quick glance at the time confirmed that it was just after the time Olivia would be getting home from school, and he answered immediately.
“Hi, Al.”
“Billie. . . I just got Livy off the bus. She's harassing me to play a game of Go Fish with her, but I figured I'd sneak a phone call in, see how things are going on your end. . .”
He sighed, continuously dragging his fingers through his tangled curls. “They just took him in about fifteen minutes ago or so. Feels like it's been eight hours already. But his doctor said it shouldn't take more than hour. . . I'm hoping we're home by dinner time.”
“There's no rush, Billie Joe. Olivia's so excited to see me, she ain't missing either one of you too bad.” Alyssa paused, expecting the weak laugh Billie Joe emitted. She had been the first-and only-person Mike permitted Billie to tell, as she was the least likely to tell anyone else and start a spiraling trend of madness. Because Aly only worked Tuesdays, Wednesday, Fridays, and every other weekend, she was a perfect babysitting candidate for this most unpleasant Thursday activity and had agreed to it with zeal and kind words of reassurance. Having known Mike as long as she had Billie, the news had gripped her own insides pretty good, which made her speechless as to how her favorite couple could possibly be taking this. “Bill. . . I can have Olivia sleep over at my house, if you guys need a night to yourselves. I can drop her off at school on my way to work tomorrow, it's not far from the drugstore.”
Billie Joe took a moment to consider it, remembering how difficult it was to protect their daughter from the fear they were feeling, but in the end, sighed again. “No. No, I think Mike will want to see her tonight, especially. But thanks for the offer. And thanks for watching her, Al. You're a lifesaver.”
“Happy to do it, hon. Anytime, you know that. I better go, she probably won't tolerate my absence much longer.”
“Okay. . . give her a kiss for me.”
“I will. And Bill-everything's gonna be all right, you know.”
With his forehead leant against the wall and his fingers covering his tear-filled eyes, he murmured, “Yeah. Yeah, I sure hope you're right, Aly.”
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Summary: “I'm ready for anything,” Billie promised, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, “more than ten years with you has helped with that."
Previous Parts: located here
Because they would have to put Mike under for the biopsy, he had been given a hospital room and a sterile blue dressing gown in which to wait in. He sat, perched on the edge of the unforgiving mattress with scratchy sheets, fingers gripping the underside of the bed so tightly it hurt. Billie was sitting across from him, in a straight-backed, minimally padded chair, bent over with his forearms resting on his knees. He kept playing with his fingers, tugging on each one and repeating, as he stared hard at the pale skin of Mike's ankle; that damn vine tattoo seemed so dark there, no matter how faded.
They hadn't been waiting long, but it felt like forever. A nurse had already swept in and out, taking his blood pressure and temperature, assuring them both with a winning smile that the doctor would be in for them shortly. Mike had merely nodded, as Billie thanked her with a feeble smile. The couple hadn't spoken to each other all morning, except for a few meaningless comments on the drive over. They had performed a very convincing act for Olivia, however, telling her that Aunt Aly would be getting her off the bus that afternoon because Mommy and Daddy had to go to a meeting with Uncle Tre about their music. The lie came far too easy, because never in a million years could they dream of telling their little gift the truth.
For someone who had achieved next to no sleep the night before and was banned from coffee for the procedure, Mike was very awake. His mind-much like Billie Joe's-was speeding away with thoughts, most of them, admittedly, not very good. Billie had done all he could to instill some optimism into Mike last night, hoping some of it would rub off on himself to be sure, and while Mike's heart was set on positive results, the reality was it could go either away. And judging from the way the doctor had looked at him after going over his scans, he had a pretty ominous feeling of what kind of news the biopsy would bring.
Worst of all, the doctor had told them the results wouldn't come back from the lab until Monday afternoon. That meant three whole days, a weekend of waiting, and Mike wasn't sure either of them would be able to handle it. Billie was already fighting valiantly against a threatening panic attack, and if it wasn't for the cocktail of Xanax and Excedrin Mike had insisted he take, Billie Joe would not be sitting as outwardly calm as he was.
Another nurse squeaked down the hall in her sneakers, and Mike sighed; he couldn't take it anymore. He lifted his hands, in a beckoning gesture, saying, “Bill, come here.”
Billie hardly hesitated. He got to his feet and stepped into Mike's outstretched arms, petting brown hair softly as he murmured, “I am here, Mikey. Always gonna be.”
Mike simply let his forehead rest against Billie's chest for a moment, where he was level. He kneaded his boyfriend's spine gently, and when he finally had the courage to look up into his eyes again, Mike said, “It could be cancer, baby. We both know that going in?”
A helpless, pained breath slipped from Billie Joe's lips, and another lump came rearing back up into his throat. His fingers stuttered along Mike's brow, and he shook his head slowly. “Don't say that, darlin'. It could just as easily be nothing.”
“I know,” Mike acknowledged with a nod. The neutral surroundings of the hospital room allowed him a few minutes of reprieve from his emotions, and the ability to see the situation clearly for a change helped, a bit. He had to be tough; he had to be strong. “But if it isn't nothing-if it's cancer-I just want us both to be prepared.”
“I'm ready for anything,” Billie promised a ghost of a smile touching his lips, “more than ten years with you has helped with that. And I'm counting on another ten. Another fifty, actually.”
Mike actually smiled back, and as one of his hands closed around Billie's, the other pressed against the side of his boyfriend's long throat, to pull him down a little closer. “I love you, Billie Joe.”
“I love you too.”
Billie bent enough to meet Mike's tilting head for a slow kiss, all lips, and lingering. It was a moment of comfort for both men, a mutual reassurance of their devotion to one another, and Mike especially needed that now more than he ever had. Kissing also served as a heartfelt distraction, and they carried on until a throat clearing made them turn their heads.
Dr. Pierce, Mike's oncologist, stood at the end of Mike's bed, dressed in scrubs the same color as Mike's gown with his hands folded in front him. When he had their attention, he smiled warmly, as a pair of nurses trickled into the room as well. “We're ready for you, Mr. Pritchard.”
Mike let out a long breath and allowed the nurses to haul his legs back up onto the bed. They clipped a pulse reader on his finger, pulled the bed down so he could lie flat, and began prepping the back of his hand for an IV. His heart rate quickened at once, verified by the blipping machine he was connected to, and Mike's stomach did another turn as he realized the wait was over; he was going into surgery, even if it was a minor one.
“Don't worry, Mr. Armstrong, Mike is in very good hands,” Dr. Pierce was saying to Billie, who was watching the attention Mike was getting apprehensively. “Really, this shouldn't take more than an hour, when it's all said and done.”
He nodded, suddenly very aware of the cold sweat trickling down his back, and he moved forward to grip Mike's free hand tightly; they were putting up the rails on the bed, getting ready to move him, and Billie Joe knew he could not follow. He bent down for another chaste kiss, smiling watery reassurance. “I'll be right outside waiting, Mikey, right here when you wake up.”
“I know you will be. . .” Mike kissed Billie's hand and gave it a squeeze, to show he was okay. . . more or less.
“I'll take you home, and we'll have Froot Loops for dinner. Livy will love it.”
He felt a pang at his daughter's name, and he gave Billie the best smile he could manage. “Can't wait. Love you, Bill,” he repeated, as he was forced to release his boyfriend's hand when the nurses began to push his bed towards the door.
“Love you back,” Billie Joe called, watching him go, and smiled when Dr. Pierce gave him a thumbs up.
Waiting wasn't one of the things Billie was good at; or the better way to phrase it, would be to say that patience was one of the virtues nature had deprived him of. Sometimes his mom would tell him that patience was something to be learned, as well, but he had never really bothered to try. It made him a very poor example, where his daughter was concerned, but luckily, Mike had plenty enough for the both of them.
So, unsurprisingly, Billie was unable to keep still. He had started out sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room, drinking a cup of lukewarm coffee (decaf) and scanning through his phone for something useful to occupy him. But Billie Joe's leg started bouncing, so much so that the woman across from him gave him a disapproving look over the top of her Women's Health magazine. That's when he decided he wasn't doing anybody any favors by fidgeting around in his chair, so he took to pacing the hallway that led to the operating rooms. At least, that way, he would be right there when Dr. Pierce came through to give him an update.
Billie was on his fourth fruitless upload to his e-mail when his phone began to vibrate actively in his hand, and Aly's name popped up the screen. A quick glance at the time confirmed that it was just after the time Olivia would be getting home from school, and he answered immediately.
“Hi, Al.”
“Billie. . . I just got Livy off the bus. She's harassing me to play a game of Go Fish with her, but I figured I'd sneak a phone call in, see how things are going on your end. . .”
He sighed, continuously dragging his fingers through his tangled curls. “They just took him in about fifteen minutes ago or so. Feels like it's been eight hours already. But his doctor said it shouldn't take more than hour. . . I'm hoping we're home by dinner time.”
“There's no rush, Billie Joe. Olivia's so excited to see me, she ain't missing either one of you too bad.” Alyssa paused, expecting the weak laugh Billie Joe emitted. She had been the first-and only-person Mike permitted Billie to tell, as she was the least likely to tell anyone else and start a spiraling trend of madness. Because Aly only worked Tuesdays, Wednesday, Fridays, and every other weekend, she was a perfect babysitting candidate for this most unpleasant Thursday activity and had agreed to it with zeal and kind words of reassurance. Having known Mike as long as she had Billie, the news had gripped her own insides pretty good, which made her speechless as to how her favorite couple could possibly be taking this. “Bill. . . I can have Olivia sleep over at my house, if you guys need a night to yourselves. I can drop her off at school on my way to work tomorrow, it's not far from the drugstore.”
Billie Joe took a moment to consider it, remembering how difficult it was to protect their daughter from the fear they were feeling, but in the end, sighed again. “No. No, I think Mike will want to see her tonight, especially. But thanks for the offer. And thanks for watching her, Al. You're a lifesaver.”
“Happy to do it, hon. Anytime, you know that. I better go, she probably won't tolerate my absence much longer.”
“Okay. . . give her a kiss for me.”
“I will. And Bill-everything's gonna be all right, you know.”
With his forehead leant against the wall and his fingers covering his tear-filled eyes, he murmured, “Yeah. Yeah, I sure hope you're right, Aly.”