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So it's a few weeks late but it avoids the usual flow of Billie Joe birthday fics, right? So if anyone's interested, I went on a drabble/ficlet spree all this month and cranked out fifteen of these babies. They're located at my slash joural, just follow the fake cut.
Rating: Various, most I'd give and R just for the language. Yeah, R overall.
Pairing(s): Um a lot. I hit a lot of fandoms and tried to get in something for everyone. So um... Billie/Mike/Tre and various combinations of them, Billie/Tim Armstrong, Billie/Davey Havok implied a lot more... there's mention of het with Adie, but the slash is much more prevalent.
Warnings: Some extreme fluff- seriously, there is actually a puppy involved somewhere. Um... oh use of the fuck word a lot, Dark themes like rape, a two-line story, a really bad pun and a top ten list.
-1-
You Can Dress Him Up…
She looked at him coyly from across the table. She’d never seen his hair so neat and tidy before, and at once concluded with a smile that Billie Joe had actually cleaned up for this date. His dreads his long been brushed out, then chopped off. The short, spiky and now blue little cut suited him way to well to admit. As he lit up a fag, the dirty silver of his nose ring sparkled and winked at her in the reflection of the lighter’s flame. Whether his mother and perhaps a few siblings had dressed him up or not, Adie could not ignore how well every detail on him fit. Apparently Billie Joe didn’t fuck around on the third (official) date…
It still didn’t change the fact that he’d managed to get barbeque sauce on his cheek and was now molesting the cigarette with that pretty mouth of his. Pouty lips thinned and pursed around the white like something she’d only seen on one of Steve’s unmarked tapes. There was definitely more than one person who had stopped chewing all together to stare.
“J-Jesus Christ Billie,” she whispered at him, with traces of a giggle. “Could you fuckin’ be any more phallic?”
Billie Joe grinned wide at her, hazel-green burning bright even through a spiral of haze.
“Why the fuck do you think I started smoking in the first place?”
-2-
Listen - The Clash
The first time Billie had heard it, he was alone in the very back of a record store. The bass line hit him in the chest and dragged down him so happily, and god, almost dirty like so many basslines tended to be. And then it played around with him, higher notes, the small tap of drums joining in, and then a guitar that made him feel so smart, and right with the world. It was what got him into instrumentals, into the fact that your voice sometimes kept you from saying the right thing.
He showed it to Mike right away, who then proceeded to play it out of the blue at their next practice. But just the bassline. And it was that bass guitar Billie had bought him, and Mike was still learning, so it was twangier, and dirtier, and Billie, caught by surprise, couldn’t stop himself from letting out a horrible, embarrassingly satisfied moan of musical pleasure. It came out the back of his throat, tipped his head back. From then on he was… at least a little quieter at band practice.
-3-
Eye of The Beholder
He didn’t actually think about what this meant until much later. Right now, all he knew was he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to get up and be pushed around in the mosh pit. He just wanted to sit there alone on the bar stool, staring at the man on stage. Hearing his scratchy, snarly, slightly buzzed voice. Looking, god, he just loved to look at that chiselled jaw line, harshly angled eyebrows, sinewy bare chest, bare arms, eyes blue enough to pierce you like a needle. Just to look…
But by the time he was 17, it was more than that. Lint had recognized him time and again, and at the umpteenth show, he tracked Billie down, dragged him backstage and got him so fucked that he agreed to meet him Friday at that same bar where Billie had seen him first.
Then it was more than just look at him. Then it was to flirt, and see those eyes so much closer, and have them open and alive only for him, only for Billie. Those roughly full lips spoke to him, seduced him, and then Billie lived only to feel as if God himself were lovingly, gently scratching across his cheeks, down his neck, with a stubbly smile.
When Tim took him back to his apartment, Billie didn’t close his eyes, not once. He could do nothing but watch his length disappear into that smoky mouth, watch the way his hero’s muscles flexed and moved under the skin. When he came- when for the first time another man brought him to the edge, it was because Tim finally looked up from his efforts.
And then it was all over. Time stood still, Tim moved up beside the boy and two strokes later, was groaning into Billie’s collarbone. More than just to look. Sometimes only to hear Tim sigh and laugh rather uncharacteristically, “Miss Billie, you is a wonder to behold…”*
*Yes, that is a Colour Purple reference.
-4-
It’s Because I Have a Small Package, Isn’t It?
It is a very well known fact that Billie is the cutest thing ever. When he’s fat, he’s cute. When he’s skinny, he’s cute. When’s hyper, he’s really cute, and when he’s sad, you’d better motherfuckin give Billie a hug or everyone who knows him will have your soulless ass.
There are even times, split by pockets of sexiness that Billie is cute. Times no one will admit too, but these times exist. For Adrienne, it’s that little smirk he has just before. She knows how hot he’s trying to look, but it never works, not ever. For Tre it’s that face he makes, screwed up with concentration, trying to prepare for this, this amazing feeling to begin, as he pushes down for the first time. For Mike it’s those kisses- those adorable little kisses that make him curl into a million pieces- a million weak-kneed, melting pieces if we’re going down the cheesy metaphor path. Their the ones without tongue, but still lingering, still just pressed up and intoxicated, and in love.
That’s probably why last year, they all pitched in for Spike, the green-eyed puppy that smiled and chased it’s tail with such enthusiasm, and licked you at every opportunity. Never mind that is pissed in your shoes when you forgot to walk it.
-5-
Another Wise Ingrate
Sometimes I don’t want to fucking deal with it.
Sometimes Billie couldn’t take it.
-6-
I Never Expected You To Chose This Path, Billie
Gerard leaned forward to brush a flyaway piece of hair from his face.
“Well… have you tried to fix it? This… feeling?”
He tried, god, he tried and tried and tried. That little voice wouldn’t let him stop. It kept saying “Billie,! You have to deal with this. You have to deal with this…”
And jeez, it was so hard and he just knew everyone had seen the permanent change in him. This song he carried with him- he’d never- he could never. But he’d written a good chunk of it down- the rest he’d yet to find a way to even put into words.
His feelings were frozen in that song. And despite what the little voice said, it choked him up, and made him move slower, sweatier, reverently, unconsciously pointing his body to the sky when he thought about the words. Deal, deal. How could he, when he found the grief, childish, ignorant grief every time he sang it? After a short while doing it live, he had the horrible urge to scream “daddy!” loud, and unbridled. But he muted his voice, yelled “C’mon!”, like a startling shot in the slow dark, to the audience instead. They looked at him like he was insane. But then again, he knew he was.
The other man regarded him with an eerie amount of understanding.
“I always thought you were the lucky one Billie. But all I can tell you now is to use it.”
-7-
He Was 33. This Was Ridiculous.
It was the most scared he’d ever been, ever. Maybe it was his own selfish phobia, maybe everyone felt this. Either way, If he weren’t shaking with terror, he’d be embarrassed out of his mind.
There he was, sitting in Tim’s fucking lap in the cheap waiting room chair. Tim held his waist protectively, Adie held his left hand, Ramona and Estelle had two fingers each of his right. And his fucking mom was a seated neatly beside them.
It really should have been laughable- the number of people who’d come to support him. But still, the only words he was able to utter out loud were “oh god oh god oh god”, a squeaky mantra of his worry, fear, dread of going under the knife. More specifically, of one his children going under the knife.
-8-
Someone Save Us
Damn you Fall Out Boy! Damn you for being so cute and catchy and ‘scene arms race‘ blargh!
It was Billie’s pet peeve to be judged by the songs he sang without realizing it. Stupidheads. And it wasn’t that he cared too much- it was that Joey had reached his “I’m so hardcore” phase and would lose all respect for his father if he heard him singing to “that band”.
-9-
Of Greetings and Good Guys
Davey had met Billie a long time before… or at least he liked to say so. This was back when they were both starting out. Green Day had been really good and AFI… well… as Nick liked to say, really really sucked. Davey saw that as a harsh judgement, but back then, Billie Joe had probably agreed. They had always been of different qualities.
Which is why Davey had been horribly startled and humiliated on move in day- to a lovely house in the Oakland suburbs. Behold, that sexy little teenager (who had appeared out of nowhere to help) looked up and gave the man a clean view of his face. Davey blushed rose coloured when he realized- oh god, he’d ordered that guy around and eyed his nice little butt and had been revealing how weak he really was all day.
“Oh my god- you!” was what escaped him. Davey dropped his carte of pots, pans and a toaster and stumbled through the boxed up maze to the man. “Y-you!”
“Hello,” Billie said, and Davey later confirmed Billie had been poking fun at Davey’s docile politeness. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Billie Joe.”
And then he took a cigarette out of his back pocket, shoved it into his mouth, chewed it a little, and somehow said “none of your friends have a fuckin light- what’s with that?”
“I’m Davey,” Davey laughed, extending his hand. Billie took it with a cute little smirk. “Am I’m so sorry- I completely didn’t realize-”
“S’ok. Listen, it’s supposed to go up to fuckin 97 today. I live just around the corner. You wanna break for a beer or something?”
Davey smiled even wider. Billie was obnoxious, rude, a smoker, a drinker, a bit smelly and probably the nicest person Davey had met in a long, long time. Beginning of a beautiful friendship.
“Um… is lemonade ok?”
“Oh yeah- my wife keeps some in the fridge in case we have pussies over.”
Davey snorted rather unceremoniously at that one, and continued to laugh until he felt ready to pee. He put his long arm around Billie’s waist and lead their sweaty, giggling bodies out of the laneway.
-10-
The Top Ten Unsurprisingly Music-Related Quirks/Habbits That Billie’s Inner Circle Have Noticed and Are Unsure of the Origins of.
10. He is ace at singing the girl’s “whoa-oo-wha-oh” part in Haddaway’s “What Is Love?”
9. Every time he’s sees a picture of Kate Moss he bursts out laughing
8. He writes his best in November, December, April and August, after 10 pm
7. He enjoys singing badly. On a similar note, he’s secretly the best Elvis impersonator in California. And that’s saying something.
6. Every once and a while he’ll ask you timidly if you’ve heard of Relient K and if you “think they’re- uh- like… lame…?”
5. He will not have anything to do with Grease.
4. His nose flares when he lies
3. At least once a month he says “You know I know you might think I’m crazy, but for an older guy, Jon Stewart is pretty good looking…”
2. He can’t keep his clothes on if “Vanilla Sex” is playing- better yet, if Lars sings it to him
1. At times his orgasms sound suspiciously like the intro vocals to “Glass Onion” by the Beatles
-11-
When She Smiled…
Billie Joe Armstrong loved Adrienne Nesser. She was an angel, with pretty eyes, and dreadlocks, and really nice tits. A nurturer, with tiny hands, a rose tattooed on her back and feathers for earrings. And she just said yes.
-12-
“LIGHTS OUT!”
There are people who see Billie onstage, lots. And if you’re particularly tragic in upbringing or maybe bitter enough that people assume you are, you resent his empowered nature. For your own personal reasons, you may automatically spit out that his actions are just an invitation for rape. He should be more careful. He must be so lucky, because he obviously doesn’t know what its like. You’d think if he did know the pain, fear, feelings beyond violation, he’d cover the fuck up, take his hand out of his pants and stop fucking moaning all over the place.
Well if you think this, there must be a few things you don’t know about Billie Joe Armstrong.
Like that sometimes his friends have to sucker punch him a little to keep his head out of the clouds, but he’ll never short-change an audience. It’s just not done. You must give them something to remember- with your words, your guitar, your body, your being, your energy. It’s not even a question in his mind. You fuck their minds into oblivion and change their lives because they paid a lot to see you. They are giving you their time, and you sure as hell won’t waste it because… you just don’t. If you do, you’ll feel like the oldest ‘terd in the pile’ as Adie says with a giggle. Every night Billie tries, exhausts himself in the hopes that maybe he’ll get another step closer to actually deserving what these people pour into him.
And maybe you’ve forgotten that Billie while might be small, skinny and have kids, he’d sooner eat dog shit than let any part of his personality be squashed by anyone. If you don’t matter to him, good luck making a dent, Tre will say, because Lord knows, it took him a few months to “get in” and that was when Billie‘d had a bit of a crush on him. It’s no secret Billie’s gotten in to fights onstage- given dropkicks, taken punches loaded with heavy rings.
So maybe you really don’t know; If you’ve been through what this man seems to be asking for- a lesson, a ravage, a forceful violation- well, you aren’t alone. Since the age of 16, Mike and Tim will confirm, Billie should have introverted himself, been discouraged from the world by his experiences. But the people around him mattered too much and Billie’s general obnoxiousness refused to budge.
In fact, Billie did one better. The second time it happened, it was at gunpoint. That was enough to leave a mark, but he dwarfed it by becoming even more of a shit-disturber than ever. See, pissing people off in just the right way seems to be in the man’s blood, his mom will tell you as she runs a hand through her greying locks. After the rape, Billie didn’t just maintain his sexual dignity- he let it burst out and infect everyone in the audience; this on the very first show he played since getting out of the hospital. Just so he could stick his neck out at the next person prepared to threaten him.
There are people who see Billie Joe on stage. Lots. Hundreds, thousands. And they might not know it, but sometimes he’ll see your hidden soul and try extra hard to pull it back out of you. You’d think he wouldn’t care, especially if you’re a little broken. But the truth is, if he does well enough to fix someone, he’ll be so happy that he might just stick his hands down his pants and start moaning all over the place.
-13-
The Saints… Are Coming*
You know, it takes a lot not to orgasm onstage; when it’s for a good cause, when you’re sharing a microphone with the Edge on your left and Bono on your right. Billie thought he’d done a good job until he got to his hotel room. Thank god he’d decided to wear underwear today.
*Sorry. I seriously tried to resist, but…
-14-
“We Won’t Get Into That When There’s Tape Rolling And Shit…”
“My birthday’s in three days!” he sang over the bacon. “In three days people will remember how much they want to fuck me!”
“We don’t need reminding“, Tre groaned from him armchair. He had slept there because they couldn’t afford a suite big enough for the band. And it was still a bit early to tell whether or not Mike wanted to murder him for invading into his and Billie’s unbreakable relationship.
So no, they didn’t do three to a twin sized, even though they could have. It was just Mike and Billie, cuddling like lovers or little girls still young enough to hold hands with each other.
It was the first he’d been nervous for a long time. They had gone straight to touring, like a reverse cold turkey to get addicted to each other, rather that awkwardly working up to it. So in three days, Billie would be of legal age. If he were any of Tre’s other friends, a pack of condoms or some other cheeky reminder that you were now “allowed” to have sex would be fitting. But he knew that wouldn’t work. For one, Billie lost his virginity at fifteen. And soon after that, he built up a circle of lovers around him for comfort, protection, something… mostly Tim and Mike, but the occasional fuck buddy made his or her way in for a night or two. And secondly, this could be it for Tre. This band could be the rest of his life and he wanted more than anything for these wonderful boys to have him.
He’d been keeping his gift with him for at least a week. Well… not with him. To be precise, he’d planned a party. The best motherfuckin party that would ever be, at least a few hour’s drive away from Berkley. The incentive he’d given for such a trip was this: “Billie’s 18. Free Drugs, free drinks and maybe free sex… we’ll see…” It was today- days early, but the best he could do, really. So he dragged the boys to a dingy venue he’d handpicked and presented them the fruits of his labour.
Needless to say, Billie was in awe for about an hour. After that, it hurt Tre to watch his singer retreat to the corners of the club, sitting on Mike’s lap and murmuring that he just wanted to get out of there. Tre followed them sadly back to the hotel- party fine on it’s own- keeping silent and solemn. It hadn’t been good enough? Did Billie not like that kind of thing?
When they got to the room, Tre could no longer stand it. He stood before the entrance of the suite and lifted his sad blue eyes to meet his friends.
“D-did you guys like it? We left really early…”
Billie said nothing, let Mike talk for him.
“The party was sweet, Tre, ace. But we liked it more for what it made us realize.”
“And that is?”
Billie suddenly smirked. He stepped forward and fisted Tre’s shirt. With a sharp tug, the drummer was yanked in to the room and pushed onto the bed. Mike shut the door rather loudly.
“That you’re a big spender,” the boy drawled. He pulled a small packet of pot out of his pocket and tossed it into his suitcase.” He approached the bed. “That you try too hard.”
Tre downcast his eyes at that. So they’d seen through him? And didn’t like it?
“That all I really want is a little proof of my legality.”
“O-oh…”
It was harsh, but Tre figured being subtle was for losers. He’d figure it out at some point. And now he knew Billie didn’t dig it when Tre didn’t act like himself.
“From you.”
“What?”
“Proof of legality,” Billie laughed. “From you. Both of you. That’s what I wouldn’t have realized without that keg fest.”
Mike had clearly already been filled in because he moved to the only bed in the room and kissed Tre lightly on the cheek. Um… so Mike didn’t hate him then…
“You think you can fuck him while I get him off?”
Yeah, Mike definitely didn’t hate him.
An hour and a half later, three boys where sprawled out and sweaty on that single twin size bed. Tre sat up, soothing his hot back in the air of the room and murmured to himself.
“Wassat?” a tired Billie Joe asked him. Mike stirred but had gone out like a light.
“I said I just remembered that it’s Valentine’s Day.”
Billie smirked wide, and Tre was pretty sure that’s when he fell in love.
“Well fuck me…”
-15-
Best Thing in Town
Mike had kept one truth with him since the early years of his life. He had bits and pieces but when this truth formed, or at least the seed was planted, he had a good solid memory that he‘d carry. That truth still remained. There was no one song, no one band, no piece of sound or video that inspired him. It was a person; soulful, living means by which his musical life began. When people asked him, he usually named off a bunch of random bands and was done with it, even though the real answer would be much shorter and easier to say.
Billie. Billie Joe Armstrong got him into music of course. The first time Mike went to his house, he pointed to the pretty blue instrument and inquired.
“Oh that’s my guitar,” Billie smiled. “He set it up rather awkwardly and played the intro to Crazy Train. The notes were a bit twangy, but the timing was perfect, the delivery was passionate and Billie’s eyes flickered in a way Mike wouldn’t see again til one of the boy’s older brothers rented them a porno to watch. Performing to Mike, the bassist figured later, might’ve gotten the boy caught up in a rather Freudian way.
At that time, all Mike could say was “Wow. That’s really cool.”
“I- I’m still learning,” Billie told him. “But it’s really really fun.”
Mike had never believed in anyone more.
Any comments are appreciated as I worked quite hard on this. Jokes are good too :)