Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Four.
Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Four.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike wants to work but Billie Joe is feeling rather frisky and playful.
January.
February.
March.
April
----
April hath put a spirit
Of youth in everything.
~William Shakespeare
----
The guys were on tour in Europe for a month’s time. They had been busy with interviews and photo shoots, autographs and handshakes. They hadn’t sat down to enjoy themselves once in the past week and a half of touring England, France, and Germany. Finally, they had a day to themselves with a promise of no phone calls to announce an unexpected interview.
Tré had gotten Lisea’s permission to have Ramona fly out to Germany for that day so he could spend time with her. He emerged from the bathroom, a small towel hung loosely around his waist, and grinned at his band mates. They turned their attention from that of the television to him.
“Yes, Tré?” Mike asked carefully.
“I’m gonna’ see Mona today.” He answered excitedly.
Billie Joe nodded, “We know, Tré.” They turned their attention back to the TV for about five minutes when Billie Joe leaned over to Mike, “What are they saying?”
“I have no idea.” Mike answered, swirling the coffee in his mug before taking a sip.
Tré squatted in front of the TV, “They’re saying that a trailer of cattle disconnected and the cattle escaped. They caused a five car pile-up on a major highway.”
“Oh. Change the channel, Armstrong.”
“To what, Mike? We can’t understand anything no matter what channel it’s on.”
“You’re right,” Mike answered, “Just turn it off.” He got up and ventured to his bag, where he pulled out his laptop and plugged it in. He plopped down next to Billie Joe and booted it up.
Tré emerged from the bathroom, where he had retreated to after translating, fully dressed, his face free of make-up.
“Whoa. No make-up?” Mike mock-gasped.
“Nah. Mona deserves a normal daddy every now and then. With all the touring and paparazzi; Ya’ know?”
“Yes. I s’pose.” Billie Joe answered, “See ya’, Tré.”
“Bye guys.” Tré responded, earning only a nod from the bassist who was sucked into his e-mailing. He closed the door and his lone footsteps echoed and faded as he moved down the hallway.
Billie Joe slid his hand across the thigh of his bassist, smirking as a small mewl escaped Mike’s lips. He gently closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table.
“Someone’s frisky.” Mike mumbled, reaching back towards his laptop.
Billie Joe slapped his hand playfully, “Let’s wrestle instead.”
“What are you talking about?” Mike mumbled just before being shoved on the ground and pinned by the lead singer.
“I’m talking about wrestling. Apparently, I’m still stronger than you.”
“You were never stronger than me, I let you win.” Mike growled, turning them over and straddling Billie Joe. He grabbed Billie Joe’s wrists with one hand and held them to the carpet above his head. He slowly crawled off and used his free hand to tickle his lover.
“No! Stop, Mike!” Billie Joe yelped, tears streaming down his cheeks. His laughter echoed in the room as he squirmed and tried to get away.
“Begging me, Armstrong?”
“Uncle! Mike! Stop!”
“Am I stronger than you, then?”
“Y-y-yes! Just stop.”
Mike chuckled and stopped, releasing Billie Joe’s wrists. Billie Joe sat up and pushed his lips against those of the bassist. Mike drew in a breath of surprise and slowly melted into the kiss. He pulled away slowly and licked his lips.
Billie Joe sighed, his hand lingering on Mike’s thigh, “I love you.”
“I fucking love you too.”
Rifinito.
----
Finally. This one took me awhile. I’m gonna’ get right on May now. I can’t wait to start avidly writing again. =]
Comments are wonderful. Especially for Thanksgiving... =D
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike wants to work but Billie Joe is feeling rather frisky and playful.
January.
February.
March.
April
----
April hath put a spirit
Of youth in everything.
~William Shakespeare
----
The guys were on tour in Europe for a month’s time. They had been busy with interviews and photo shoots, autographs and handshakes. They hadn’t sat down to enjoy themselves once in the past week and a half of touring England, France, and Germany. Finally, they had a day to themselves with a promise of no phone calls to announce an unexpected interview.
Tré had gotten Lisea’s permission to have Ramona fly out to Germany for that day so he could spend time with her. He emerged from the bathroom, a small towel hung loosely around his waist, and grinned at his band mates. They turned their attention from that of the television to him.
“Yes, Tré?” Mike asked carefully.
“I’m gonna’ see Mona today.” He answered excitedly.
Billie Joe nodded, “We know, Tré.” They turned their attention back to the TV for about five minutes when Billie Joe leaned over to Mike, “What are they saying?”
“I have no idea.” Mike answered, swirling the coffee in his mug before taking a sip.
Tré squatted in front of the TV, “They’re saying that a trailer of cattle disconnected and the cattle escaped. They caused a five car pile-up on a major highway.”
“Oh. Change the channel, Armstrong.”
“To what, Mike? We can’t understand anything no matter what channel it’s on.”
“You’re right,” Mike answered, “Just turn it off.” He got up and ventured to his bag, where he pulled out his laptop and plugged it in. He plopped down next to Billie Joe and booted it up.
Tré emerged from the bathroom, where he had retreated to after translating, fully dressed, his face free of make-up.
“Whoa. No make-up?” Mike mock-gasped.
“Nah. Mona deserves a normal daddy every now and then. With all the touring and paparazzi; Ya’ know?”
“Yes. I s’pose.” Billie Joe answered, “See ya’, Tré.”
“Bye guys.” Tré responded, earning only a nod from the bassist who was sucked into his e-mailing. He closed the door and his lone footsteps echoed and faded as he moved down the hallway.
Billie Joe slid his hand across the thigh of his bassist, smirking as a small mewl escaped Mike’s lips. He gently closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table.
“Someone’s frisky.” Mike mumbled, reaching back towards his laptop.
Billie Joe slapped his hand playfully, “Let’s wrestle instead.”
“What are you talking about?” Mike mumbled just before being shoved on the ground and pinned by the lead singer.
“I’m talking about wrestling. Apparently, I’m still stronger than you.”
“You were never stronger than me, I let you win.” Mike growled, turning them over and straddling Billie Joe. He grabbed Billie Joe’s wrists with one hand and held them to the carpet above his head. He slowly crawled off and used his free hand to tickle his lover.
“No! Stop, Mike!” Billie Joe yelped, tears streaming down his cheeks. His laughter echoed in the room as he squirmed and tried to get away.
“Begging me, Armstrong?”
“Uncle! Mike! Stop!”
“Am I stronger than you, then?”
“Y-y-yes! Just stop.”
Mike chuckled and stopped, releasing Billie Joe’s wrists. Billie Joe sat up and pushed his lips against those of the bassist. Mike drew in a breath of surprise and slowly melted into the kiss. He pulled away slowly and licked his lips.
Billie Joe sighed, his hand lingering on Mike’s thigh, “I love you.”
“I fucking love you too.”
Rifinito.
----
Finally. This one took me awhile. I’m gonna’ get right on May now. I can’t wait to start avidly writing again. =]
Comments are wonderful. Especially for Thanksgiving... =D