When I Come Around Part 4
Author: timrod
Rating: NC17 overall
Pairing: Billie Joe/other
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day.
Part 1 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2953785.html#cutid1
Part 2 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954009.html
Part 3 - http://comingclean.livejournal.com/2954629.html
PART 4
The shopping expedition went well. Billie chose one store that he knew would carry everything they needed to save Jay traipsing from shop to shop on his first day out of hospital. Jay chose modestly, protesting every time Billie added something extra to the pile on the counter, but he soon stopped complaining when he realised that only made Billie pick out even more stuff. They stopped on the way home to stock up on beer and soda - Doctor Mallory had given a stern lecture on the danger of mixing booze with the painkillers that Jay was taking - returning with their purchases soon after six.
“Right, I’m gonna take these up for you, put them in your room for you to put away, then I’m gonna hit the shower before Jake gets here. You okay to do that by yourself?”
“Billie, I’m fine, and you should let me carry something.”
“I spent my teenage years carrying amps around, building the stage before I played. A few pairs of underwear are nothing in comparison.”
“Yeah, but there’s also the jacket, pants, socks, shoes, shirts ... I need to write this down. You spent so much on me already.”
“NOTHING you don’t need.” Billie grunted as the last package dropped to the bed. “I’ll get the drinks in from the car before I shower, too. We’re gonna order in some Chinese food - everyone loves Chinese food. You hungry?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Good. Well, I’ll be in my room if you want me for anything in the next fifteen minutes or so - that’s the one with the double doors across the hall - but then I’ll be downstairs in the den. See ya in a bit.”
**
Billie sprawled across one of the squashy sofas in the den, sipping a grape soda straight from the bottle. He’d changed into yet another pair of black jeans and an old Crimpshrine tee, his feet bare, his curls still damp because Carrie had taken the hairdryer with her when she left., and he couldn’t be bothered to search the bedrooms for another one He listened for Jay’s footsteps in the hall, calling “In here ..” when he realised he hadn’t shown him around a quarter of the house yet.
“How’s this, Billie? Is this alright to wear tonight?”
Billie laughed out loud as his house guest came into view. “Black pants, black tee - snap! It looks great. You don’t have to impress Jake. He lives alone - fashion is not his strong point. Come in, take a seat and I’ll get you a drink.”
Jay opted for a huge armchair by the window, and took in his surroundings, especially the walls, which were covered in vintage posters and prints. Billie returned with a selection of bottles for him to choose from, and gestured to the biggest poster.
“Keith Moon - drummer with The Who. The classic live fast - die young rock star. Only made it to 32.”
“Occupational hazard?”
“Seems to be. Thankfully, I survived becoming a member of the 27 club.” Billie rolled up his sleeve to reveal a circular tattoo with the number in the centre. “That’s the logo of a band I like, The Riverdales, but I got it on my 28th birthday to celebrate the fact I made it that far. So many great musicians died at 27.” He pointed the neck of his bottle around the room. “Hendrix. Brian Jones. Jim Morrison .... shit, I just realised this room’s a fucking mausoleum!”
“I gotta hear some of your music some time. And some of these guys.”
The singer nodded. “Feel free. There’s music in just about every room here - radios, a juke box in the sitting room - knock yourself out ..... okay, bad choice of words!”
Jay prodded the lump on his head and grinned. “Don’t worry about it - it feels fine. You got a lot of tattoos.”
“Yeah, i love them. The rush you get when they’re inking you is amazing.”
“They’re pretty. No names, though.”
“No, no names. Not yet, anyway.” Billie got a faraway look in his eyes for a few seconds, snapping out of it when the gate intercom buzzed. He peeled himself off the sofa to answer it. “That’ll be Jakey-boy. - I forgot to give him the new gate key. He’s always so fucking punctual. That’s the only reason I take him on tour - to be my personal alarm clock. Hello? Oh, hi, come on up - we’re in the den.”
**
The initial meeting was awkward, between two men who knew precious little about each other, but within a few minutes, Jake had brought up one of his favourite subjects - the movies. Immediately, Jay was bombarded with a list of films that he had to see for what would be, for him, the first time, for the other two the hundredth, and even though he had no clue what was in store for him, he joined in as best he could, relaxing more with each passing minute. Billie had been right - Jake was very easy to like - Jay thought that the two men were very similar in character and appearance, although Jake had six inches more height than Billie and dark brown hair with eyes of the same colour. Even his laugh and the way he sat mirrored Billie. Jake chose a beer from the array on the coffee table, and produced a menu from the local Chinese restaurant, and the two friends knelt, heads together, to plan their feast.
The order was huge - probably enough for six - because they kept finding dishes that Jay had to try, passing the time before the food arrived by stacking up dvds for his education, adding to the pile until it threatened to collapse. The delivery arrived quite quickly, and eventually, they were too full for even a fortune cookie, especially poor Jay, who had been encouraged to taste everything, taking small, tentative bites from each carton before Jake heaped a good size portion onto his plate.
When a fair amount of the food had gone, Billie abandoned his plate to the rug, thumping his chest with a fist and belching loudly. Jake took up the challenge, impressing Jay with his skills at burping out the first two lines of the Pledge of Allegiance between gulps from a shaken cherry soda. And all of this without the excuse of alcohol. Jake stopped at the one bottle when he realised he was drinking alone, but the evening was as enjoyable as any he had spent with Billie and a good supply of booze.
The movie marathon commenced with a film that both men swore was essential viewing - Anchorman - Jay transfixed, not by the images on screen but by the double act across the room who spoke along with virtually every line. They carried on the evening’s entertainment with a couple of the Jackass movies, for the simple reason that none of them could concentrate on even the simplest plotline when half of the dialogue was drowned out by laughter. Before they knew it, it was midnight, and Jay had curled up in his chair, fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Hey, man - are you okay?” Billie knelt in front of his new friend, hand on his knee.
“Yeah. Head hurts a bit. Tired. Full.” Jay burped quite loudly, and Billie smiled his approval. “I think I’m going to bed, guys.”
“Yeah sure. You gotta take your meds, remember?”
“I remember, thanks. They’re upstairs - I’ll take some water with me. Do I have to be up at any particular time tomorrow?”
“It’s Sunday - so no. We got nowhere to be. Sleep well, and remember if you need anything ...”
“Double doors across the hall ....”
“Right. G’night, Jay. See ya tomorrow.”
**
Alone together, Jake settled down next to Billie, helping himself to a lurid green apple soda. “You’re right, he seems nice.”
“He is. I wondered if we could find something for him to do at the studio - you know, painting or something simple. He wants to get a job.”
“We could probably do with an odd-job man around. The place is getting a little tired-looking, sure.”
“He won’t be up to much for a while. I had a talk with his doctor about what to expect from him.”
“What, like waking up to find him holding a machete to your throat?”
Billie laughed. “Something along those lines, yeah. He said he could get mood swings, and the pain meds are gonna make him pretty tired.”
“Did he say anything about his memory?”
“Yeah, not much help, but he did say that maybe something will come back to him, maybe it won’t. We just gotta play it by ear.”
“It’s what you do best, Bill.”
“Only because I never fucking learned to read music! I just find him - this situation -fascinating. He knows language, but he doesn’t know his own name, even what food he likes. In some ways, he’s like a little kid, always having to touch things or sniff them to learn about them. We don’t even know if he’’s got a wife or a girlfriend somewhere worrying herself sick about him.”
“That must be so weird for him.”
“That’s just it - he’s so fucking cool with it. He’s just making the best, getting on with his future, not worrying about what he was. He just .... is.”
“Living for the moment ... maybe he’s got something there. Look, do you want me to stay over? Make sure you don’t get murdered in the night?”
“It’s up to you, man. I don’t think he’ll try and kill me tonight, he’s too tired, and anyway, I put the sharp knives away safely before you got here.” Jake still had sharp elbows, and he proved it by jabbing one into Billie’s ribs. “Ow! Look, you know you’re always welcome to crash here.”
“I know.” Jake drained his soda and started to pick off the label. “I think he - both of you - will be fine. I’ll head home, I think. I only had the one beer and I got stuff to do tomorrow. If I stay, it won’t get done.”
“I know, I’m a bad influence. Thanks for coming over. It’s been great.”
“You know I’ll never turn down the chance of a free meal.”
“Yeah, that’s you. I’ll see you Monday, then. I won’t be early like I was yesterday. You can find the body on the doorstep this time.”
“Thanks. Fuck, do you realise it’s December on Monday?”
“Oh, shit. The holiday season. Better get my liver in training. I can only survive this time of year if I’m permanently drunk.”
Jake one-arm-hugged his friend, leaning back to grin at him. “Saturday night and we’re both stone cold sober. Fuck, we’re lame. G’night Billie. See ya at work.”
Billie locked the doors and cleared away most of the left-over food, then grabbed a beer and shut himself away in his music room, until he could no longer resist the lure of his bed.