The Ascension of Violent Saints, Chapter 6
Title: The Ascension of Violent Saints, Part 6 of 14
Authors: tasyfa & looking_spiffy
Pairing: Lars Ulrich (Metallica)/Billie Joe
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 121,935 total
Disclaimer: So very completely fictional. Any similarities to real events are purely coincidental. We don't own, you don't sue. No insinuation, insemination or alienation intended.
Summary: "I don’t have words for the things you do to me." Who would’ve thought? The heavy metal drummer and the punk rock frontman, dating. That’s the happy ending, right? Wrong. Between dirty vacations and disastrous family dinners, lingering exes and shattered boundaries, Billie and Lars have a long way to go yet.
Notes: Warnings for major angst, sap, bloodplay, bondage, orgasm denial. Special thanks to evaine for assisting us with the title!
( Part 5)
CHAPTER SIX
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A fork clattered to the table, dropped from suddenly shaky hands as the doorbell rang. The sound had Adrienne poking her head in from the kitchen, where she was tossing the salad - that last-minute activity that wasn't so last-minute now. Billie stared at the partially set table. "Jesus Christ, they're early."
His wife bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh as she scooped the remaining cutlery from his hands. "Go on. I'll finish up in here while you show them around." He flashed a grateful smile and turned to go, only to be spun back into a solid kiss that temporarily halted the churning in his stomach, replacing it with familiar warmth. His eyebrows drew together quizzically when she released him and rubbed off the trace of lipstick on his mouth.
"You looked like you needed it." She shrugged and began to place the forks around the table. Billie kissed her cheek and left it at that as the doorbell rang again and he headed for the door, smoothing a hand over his rampantly curly hair before opening it.
"Hi," he greeted the two men standing there, the first with a bright bouquet of flowers and an even brighter smile as he handed them to Billie. "Oh, thanks, they're beautiful." He had his free arm around Kirk's shoulders and was in the midst of pulling him in close when he realised the other guitarist might not take kindly to that. Too late, he thought, and hugged him anyway, squelching the urge to apologise afterwards. The few times he'd encountered the rest of Metallica, Billie had felt that urge with varying strength and it galled horribly. He prided himself on never apologising for who he was. But brief though they had been, encounters with members of the original chest-beating band made him feel…well. Not to put too fine a point on it, girly. Like he didn't measure up. He didn't much like feeling that way, and he refused to change his normal behaviour in his own damn house, so Kirk would just have to deal with being hugged.
"Come on in." Billie gestured in welcome and Kirk stepped through the doorway. Lars finally followed, his reluctance clear in his body language though he remained expressionless. Billie's mouth quirked up in silent appreciation as he took in the sight. This was the most dressed-up he'd seen the drummer since the night of the awards show, but that had been for the public. This - the freshly shaved face, the ironed shirt, the neat jeans, all in unfaded black - this was for him. "C'mere, you."
He pressed a swift kiss to his lover's lips and then enveloped him in a hug, whispering by his ear, "You're the one that bites, remember?" Stepping away to shut the door, he accepted the bottle of wine with a nod of thanks and continued to talk, words spilling out in a nervous rush. "Adie's just finishing up with something, so I'll give you the grand tour-oh, hey, you have to see this."
Billie stopped in the middle of the hallway and pointed to a fabric-covered board hung on the wall, criss-crossed bands of black ribbon holding photographs in place. Family, friends, his kids and their friends, the band at various stages; they were all represented. And in one corner rested a picture of one Lars Ulrich, sat on a sun lounger wearing swim trunks, sunglasses and a grin.
"We used to keep all these on the fridge but they were getting dirty so Adie rigged this up. That's my favourite shot. A bunch more came out really well too, I can get them out later maybe if, you know, anyone wants to see them or whatever." Yeah, because that wouldn't be awkward or anything. He grimaced internally and tried to rein in his runaway mouth as his guests looked at the pictures, already knowing it was a vain hope that that would be the stupidest thing he'd say tonight.
Lars had almost thrown up.
Well, not quite, but it had been the closest he'd come in a while without the aid of alcohol. He never got overly nervous before shows - though there were a couple of notable exceptions - so it took other things to make his stomach do backflips. This dinner was most definitely one of them. In the hour preceding this, stood not really looking at a spread of photographs that remained mostly meaningless to him, the drummer had stood in his kitchen and damn near vibrated with all the nervous tics he had going on. Kirk hadn't been a great deal of help in what he'd said, but his presence and the smaller bottle of wine he'd brought aided him a little. On passing his bathroom at one point, he'd hesitated at the door, eyes on the toilet bowl, trying to swallow away the increasing tightness in his throat to little effect. The swirling in his stomach had come to nothing, though, and soon he was in the passenger seat of Kirk's Dodge, foot up on the dash, wondering if they could go around the block one more time.
C'mon, you've always said you like putting yourself in situations you're not comfortable with, his bandmate had said as they sat in the silent car.
This is different, he'd replied quietly, eyes on the Armstrong house.
So here they were, here he was, looking at photographs of a life well lived, keeping back the flush in his cheeks at his own presence on the board and almost dissolving in embarrassment at the suggestion they bust out the holiday snaps before the night was through. He trailed behind as the three of them began to meander through the house, nodding and murmuring vividly distracted appreciation here and there, Kirk almost having to drag him by his sleeve to get him to keep up. He forcefully kept his hands in his pockets, affecting nonchalance, as opposed to folding them across his chest or wrapping them around his middle like they were desperate to do.
Billie's brief kiss at the door had helped him none either; if anything it made him worse. It wasn't like he didn't want to touch, to hug, to really kiss his lover - fuck did he ever want to, but stronger was the need to keep at bay, to not…encroach. It felt like pissing on someone else's territory, y'know? This was the way he'd always been, the way he'd always had to act, and from the feel of things he was damned if his instinct was going to change anytime soon.
Stomach and mind chattering away incessantly, Lars blinked when he realised that Billie was holding his hand out to take his jacket. He shook his head to clear it and shouldered the garment off, handing it over and turning his attention to a long mirror beside him. Brushing imaginary lint from his shirt and fiddling with his sleeves, he rolled a mantra around in his head.
Not a big deal, not a big deal, not a big deal, don't be so silly, it's not a big deal…
As he straightened himself, he became aware of eyes on him, and glanced over to find Billie watching him. He slowed his activities, smoothing his palms down his front, and offered a nervous smile. The smile was returned, and when Billie turned back down the hall to hang their coats, Lars let his chin drop to his chest with a quiet, "Ugh." He scrubbed a hand over his face when Kirk came up behind him, eyebrow raised, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
"You're doing well, man. Y'don't still feel like, and I quote, 'gutting yourself with a salad fork'?"
"Shut up," Lars retorted with striking originality. Then, with a grin and a low giggle, he gave a stern demand. "Hold me."
Kirk looped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, chin resting on one of them while a tidy Danish head dropped back to rest on one of his own. "Seriously, you're gonna be fine. I'm glad I'm here, too, otherwise I would've sat at home worrying about how it's going."
Lars smirked softly, letting his eyes close and feeling his stomach settle a bit. He didn't know what the fuck he would've done if Kirk couldn't come. Probably shown up drunk and ornery. Or hid. The guitarist's voice reached his ear again. "How are you feeling?"
He snuffed a laugh. "Donington, times fifteen."
"Oh, shit!" Kirk exclaimed in a hushed voice, tightening his arm around his bandmate. "Well at least all you gotta do is eat."
"And not freak out. Sure." Lars paused. "Y'know, if I get drunk enough and I can't make out with my boyfriend, I'm probably gonna be all over you before this fuckin' night's through."
"That a promise?"
"It's a threat, baby."
The two of them breaking out into chuckles, Kirk patted Lars's chest and slid from around him as Billie returned. Lars didn't know how much of their conversation the other man had caught, but he didn't much mind. He actually felt a little better, and couldn't help but giggle at Kirk's next gambit.
"Are your kids still around, Billie? I wanted to be sure, just so I know that I can't walk around naked yet."
Billie's eyebrows rose sharply at the question but a little grin appeared, too. "Yeah, Joey will need to be pried from his computer and his stereo, and Jake's…well, he was in here," he concluded as they entered the spacious great room. Some version of Super Mario Brothers was paused on the massive TV with the Playstation controls scattered in front of it. He glanced at Kirk, the smile emerging in full. "If adult nudity were going to scar them permanently, I'm afraid the damage has already been done. Still, it'd probably be best to wait until they've gone to bed before you strip."
Pink bloomed in his cheeks as he realised that it sounded like he was flirting, an impression that wasn't helped any by the fact that he had automatically checked Kirk out after that remark, or by his having overheard the tail end of the conversation. If Kirk was comfortable holding Billie's boyfriend and teasing him about making out, then he probably hadn't been bothered by Billie's hug, which was good. And he'd made the drummer laugh, and relax at least a little bit; Billie hadn't missed the tension that spun off of Lars in a near-visible aura. All of which made him grateful that the guitarist had accompanied his lover here. Anything that helped Lars feel more comfortable was welcome.
There was a niggling bit of jealousy worming its way into him, though, that Kirk's touch could ease while his own only made things worse. He'd felt the stiff-armed way Lars had returned his embrace and the delayed, perfunctory response to his kiss. The lines of his body practically shouted, 'Don’t touch me!' - to Billie. He didn't have enough history with the drummer, enough seniority, to be counted as a comfort-enhancer. Fuck, he was the reason his boyfriend was in such knots in the first place.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he waved a hand at the rich caramel-toned room, overstuffed black leather furniture arranged around a sensually vibrant area rug by the TV. Photographs lined the top of the bookcase by the stereo that had been custom-fitted to hold vinyl albums, one smaller top shelf stuffed with 45s. The CDs were in one of the tall bookcases flanking the fireplace at the far end of the room; its mate held a growing collection of DVDs and a wildly diverse set of books: political non-fiction, romance novels, comic books, kids' books, a full set of Goosebumps, British and American sets of Harry Potter novels. Smaller, slightly more elegant furniture faced the brass firescreen, and centred over the mantel rested a large portrait of Billie's parents, done from their wedding picture. It was the only one of his father that he had.
"Um, this is our main living space, obviously. There's surround sound and, you know, all that stuff hooked up. It's not like the projection room Tré's got at his house, which is the coolest way to watch movies ever invented - you can lounge around and throw popcorn wherever you want and still feel, you know, like you're in the theatre - but it's good and I didn't have to renovate to set it up." He frowned at the toys scattered on the rug; he'd picked up everything not two hours before. Billie had no idea how one small boy could constantly make such a mess, especially when he'd been playing videogames. Joey had always been a bit of a neatnik, right from the beginning, but Jake left a path of destruction in his wake.
"The dining room and kitchen are the other side, down the hall, but you'll see those in a minute anyway. Oh, the door by the front closet, where I put your jackets? That's the bathroom. Don't be surprised when you go in there. Adrienne painted it - I told her anything but pink, so it's a bright fucking red. Kinda cool. Um…" he trailed off as a ball of grey feline fluff raced past the doorway at breakneck speed, followed by his youngest child. "Jakob! What did I tell you about running in the house?"
His son stopped dead and turned to face him with a sheepish expression. "Don't do it 'cause I might crack my head again and then we'd have to go back to the hospital and that scares the pants off you."
"Right." Billie Joe had to laugh because that was exactly what he'd said; it was a good thing that he'd censored himself at the last minute because Jake had an excellent memory and probably would have spouted that back at him, too. "C'mere, I want you to meet my friends."
He shifted his one-armed grip on both wine and flowers and placed the other around his son's shoulders. Pointing with the bouquet, he introduced them. "This is Lars, and this is Kirk. They're in the band Metallica. This is my youngest, Jakob Danger." He could see Jake roll his eyes; Billie always said his full name because he still got a thrill out of it.
"Hi," he said shyly, tugging on Billie's shirt.
Billie crouched down. "What is it, buddy?"
Jake whispered, "He looks different without shades. Is he the same Lars you went away with?"
Amused and puzzled, Billie nodded, and nodded again when his son asked if he could say something to Lars. What else was he going to answer? He motioned at Lars to also crouch down and the drummer did so, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Jake looked at him solemnly, fingering the collar of his crazily patterned Hawaiian shirt.
"Dad said you picked out my shirt and I love it so thank you." He darted forward to leave a wet kiss on the drummer's cheek and then he was off and running again. Billie drew in a breath to reiterate the 'no running in the house' rule but let it out, knowing it was useless. Jake had pretty much two speeds: full throttle and full stop.
He straightened with a rueful smile. "He does. We've had to peel it off him in order to wash it. Definitely spent too much time around his godfather in his formative years." Unable to tell anything from Lars's rigidly controlled expression, Billie mentally shrugged and made a short detour to the kitchen to drop off the hostess gifts, before returning and taking his guests to the door leading downstairs.
"Upstairs is just bedrooms and shit, so I'm gonna show you my studio real quick and then we'll come back up and eat."
Lars admittedly didn't care too much for this grand tour - his curious nature was beaten back by a short attention span and skittish nerves. He rubbed absently at his cheek where Jakob had given him that swalk. Normally he was pretty good with kids, but…fuck, everything about tonight just had him thrown off, so all he'd managed as Jake scampered off was a small, forced sounding chuckle. Fandens.
As the three of them descended the staircase, Kirk chuckled. "Jakob Danger, is that for real? That's awesome."
Lars's bandmate and his lover got into a conversation about their guitars once they were in Billie's studio. Lars was divided. Part of him was jealous of Kirk's utter ease with the entire situation, and part of him was relieved that he himself didn't have to attempt stilted conversation. He cast his eyes around the room, rocking from side to side, hands twisting in his pockets a little as he lost himself in his thoughts.
Billie's house was so different from his - warmer colours, much more of a family home. It wasn't like he was ever going to live there, fuck no, and he didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but this was certainly no smooth rock star pad and he sure as hell didn't feel like he fit in here. Even, at least to his own rather melancholy mind, that arrangement of photographs in the hallway was an example of how out of place he was - he didn't seem to fit the scheme, he didn't match anybody else, off in his own corner. On top of that, not only was his picture flanking one of Adrienne, dreadlocked hair pulled up into a high ponytail and glowing smile on her pretty face, but above him was the image of Mike, young, gawky, laughing, and with his arm slung around an equally young Billie. Fuck if Lars wasn't the proverbial square peg.
God-fucking-dammit motherfucker, he was going to have to stop with all this negative fucking thinking. The night obviously wasn't going to go any quicker, and the more he mired himself in wretched thoughts, the worse it was going to get. The sudden sear of impatience at himself elicited a growl under his breath that he didn't even notice. He turned to Billie, hand raising to rest at the younger man's arm, thumb rubbing at a mark that wasn't there. Swallowing his trepidation, eyes flicking from Billie to the floor and back again, he spoke quietly.
"Um, does Adrienne want some help with anything?"
He was going to fucking try, dammit.
"Does," Billie began to repeat the question, startled at both its asking and the hand on his arm, warm through the thin material of his shirt. He interrupted himself with a short bark of nervous laughter. "Um, no. No. It's-thanks for asking, but she doesn't trust anyone with a dick to do anything in her kitchen that requires an attention span of more than two minutes. There may have been an incident with a plastic spatula once." He widened his eyes comically, a real smile settling onto his lips. "Seriously, everything's pretty much done. It's just, you know, it's not fancy or anything, it's just food. Um, we'll go eat in a sec. I wanted to show you something first."
He stepped away, though reluctant to break the contact that Lars had initiated, and hauled out a guitar case from amongst the many stashed in the studio. Snapping it open, he lifted the sticker-laden instrument out and brought it over to the two musicians. He could tell that the drummer knew which guitar it was even before he said anything.
"This is Blue." Aiming a smile at Kirk, whose easy chatter about their shared instrument had made for a grateful easing of his own tension, Billie explained the short version. "She's the last gift I ever got from my father and she's what I learned to play on. I had a replica made a few years ago so I could still get the same sound without taking her out of the case too often." He noticed Lars examining the stickers. "My sisters called me BJ when I was little and I fucking hated it. Don't get any ideas, dude."
Billie scrunched his face up at the little smirk that inspired, inexpressibly glad to see it even if it meant that he'd probably be teased with the despised nickname at some point. Carefully he replaced Blue in the case with the same faint ache of separation that he always had and turned back to his guests.
"Okay, we'd better go; I said we'd be a couple of minutes and got that look, you know. Valid, since I've been known to disappear down here for an entire weekend, but, yeah." This time his smile had a brittle quality. "Besides, I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry."
He was, too, but it didn't stop his stomach from churning as he led the way back up the stairs. At least it wasn't Lars going up alone to help Adie; that idea had unnerved the fuck out of him. No, this way he could observe the train wreck in progress. Shut up, he told his suddenly pessimistic brain. It's only a goddamned dinner. Everyone will be polite, we can get through this and my stubborn fucking boyfriend can figure out that my wife isn't an obstacle. Or whatever he thinks she is.
Lars was shooed up the stairs by Kirk, being made to follow directly behind Billie. So skewed was his temperament, though, that he didn't even think to give his lover's ass a mischievous squeeze as it bobbed in front of him so tantalisingly. He did, however, have the presence of mind to draw attention to Billie's nickname.
"What about Beej? Or B-Jo?"
"Yeah, like a rap star," Kirk piped up from behind. "Ne-Yo, J Lo, B-Jo."
This caused a ripple of giggles, and they sounded at ease enough. But then again with Lars feeling as out of orbit as he did, he could have been wrong.
Then they were at the top of the staircase, the door to the studio closing behind them, and this was it. Nothing else to delay them. The three of them moved through into the dining room, Lars unconsciously tugging at his shirt collar, the eternally friendly Kirk complimenting Jake on his outfit and asking him if he had any interest in surfing. The drummer looked over the table, at the modest spread not quite complete, large space in the middle indicating that the main dish was on its way.
And when Billie ducked out to call upstairs for his other son to come down, it arrived. Adrienne stepped into the room, mighty lasagne held aloft in oven mitt covered hands. Kirk immediately offered to help, moving the wine glasses aside as she set the dish down on the table. Lars just sort of stood off to the side, feeling pointy and awkward. When Adie straightened, he took a breath and finally greeted her.
"Hey."
Couldn't knock a classic. Especially when it was accompanied by what might have been a smile tighter than a drumskin. His gut clenched a little when she met his eyes and returned the greeting.
Billie returned, thankfully, and moved close to Adie, close enough that their arms brushed and they exchanged a brief smile, and Lars's eyes shot to the floor in momentary panic. He swallowed hard and cursed himself inwardly. Would you quit acting so silly? That was nothing and you're freaking out already. You're like a fucking…deer. Absurdly amused by that thought, Lars sputtered out a snigger and had to shake his head in response to the odd looks he got for it. "It's nothing, never mind."
He wondered silently if he was supposed to pull Adie's chair out for her, or something. Ugh.
The quick smile from Adrienne at his eyeroll over having to drag their eldest out of his room was a paperthin buffer against the tension in the room, which had ratcheted straight up with her appearance. Billie Joe hoped his return smile did the same for her. He knew that she was nervous, too, and uncomfortably aware that she was the source of all this, but also determined. Adie was no more likely to back down than he was. Good thing they didn't have too many serious fights because the few they did have were spectacular.
He took the oven mitts and deposited them on the sideboard as she extended a hand to Kirk. "Hi, Kirk, I'm Adrienne, or Adie. Either is fine. Billie wasn't sure how strict a vegetarian you are so we went with vegan everything." She smiled brightly as the guitarist shook hands and thanked her. Her eyes flickered to Billie and he didn't think anyone one else would notice that she had to steel herself a little as she moved forward to properly greet his lover.
"It's good to see you," Adrienne told Lars. She took his hands and leaned in, unknowingly kissing his cheek right over where Jake had earlier. "Thank you for coming."
Billie bit his lip at the resultant mix of emotions in expressive green eyes, though he knew each was a mere hint at what the drummer really felt. He stifled the impulse to laugh: kissed and claimed by three Armstrong family members. The impulse died as the fourth finally joined them. While the rest of them were also dressed mostly in black - Jake's burst of colour excepted, of course - Joey wore his midnight-coloured clothing like a shroud of gloom as he slunk into the room and sat down in one of the two places missing a wine glass without looking at anyone.
A bewildered frown crossed Billie's face. Last year, he'd had a happy child who knew how to laugh. He still wasn't entirely clear on how to deal with the moody creature who'd taken his place over the last few months. He remembered a screaming argument with his mother when he'd been about fifteen, and her wish that someday he'd have a kid just like him. It amused him in the abstract sense, this karma coming around to bite him in the ass, but on a practical level it frustrated him more than anything else.
"Joey, this is Lars and this i-"
"I know who they are. I'm not blind and I can read," he sneered. His tone became more civil as he addressed their guests directly. "Hey. You guys play some cool stuff."
That, apparently, was that. Having acknowledged their presence, Joey proceeded to ignore them and reached for the glass of water by his plate. Billie exchanged a speaking look with his wife but at her tiny shrug, he let it slide. As his son had been half-decently polite to the Metallica musicians, if not so much to his father, he didn't want to make a big issue out of it. Not right now, anyway. They could have a chat about his attitude tomorrow - for all the good it would do.
"Um, shall we?" He swept a hand over the table and took his place at the end by his silent son, his wife seating herself at the far end and encouraging Kirk to sit beside her, Jake on her other side. That left the remaining chair beside Billie for Lars, and he was both grateful for the space left between his lover and his wife, hopefully easing both their nerves a little bit, and apprehensive about his own ability to carry on a normal conversation with this half of the table.
Okay, okay, Lars was settling a little more. This was good. His nerves had sparked sharply when Adie kissed him and had introduced a little of the wealth of skittish emotion into his eyes that he was trying to keep buried. This was tempered, though, by amusement at Joey's angst and begrudging civility. It was an uneasy balance, but a balance nonetheless.
He flashed another smile to Billie as he seated himself, feeling better for the fact that he could sit next to his lover and not feel quite so much like a fish out of water. In fact, it boosted his confidence enough that he took it upon himself to pour the wine. He stood again and lifted the uncorked bottle of red. "Okay, who's having this?"
All three seated adults answered, and he took care not to give too much thought to who he served before who - that would have been crossing into absurd paranoia. He glanced at Billie as he finished filling his glass, not exactly needing approval, but maybe unconsciously seeking some kind of silent recognition for his efforts.
This is me trying. Fuck anyone that says I'm not trying.
Lars sat back down, poured himself a glass of white, plates were filled and one of those wonderfully awkward silences descended. The kind where the longer it goes on, the more nobody wants to break it, and it just gets worse. Kirk cast his eyes around the table before looking back to his plate and swallowing his mouthful. "We've been having a lot of weather, huh?"
This was met with two uneasy chuckles and a pointed glare from vibrant green eyes. Kirk mouthed a silent, 'What?' to his bandmate, and Lars responded by glaring again, before looking down to his meal. Another minute crawled by, and he decided to break the silence himself this time.
"So, either of you two boys learning any instruments? Dad helping you out?"
He realised that he'd probably only get the barest mumble of response from the eldest son, but anything was better than spiky silence or Kirk coming out with any more dumb remarks. He also sort of wondered exactly how much the rest of the family knew about his and Billie's vacation, and more to the point, if Joey had been perceptive enough to figure anything out past whatever he'd been told. The thought was quite a horrifying one, and maybe the relative safety of talking to the kids wasn't such a safe one after all.
This is so ridiculous, Billie thought after Kirk's comment fell flat. We're all grown adults experienced in fucking small talk and the best - the only - thing anyone can think to talk about is the weather?
He seized on the question about instruments with a grateful smile at his lover. He could tell that the drummer was making a huge effort here and despite the rampant awkwardness, it gave him a warm little glow in his midsection. Lars obviously considered this important because Billie did, and that meant so much to him.
Glancing at his sullen offspring, he looked heavenward and answered, "Yeah, Joey and I started guitar lessons last summer when I was on break from touring and picked it back up when the tour ended. He's pretty good." Pride softened his voice and his son flicked a glance at him, his mouth curving up for a millisecond before resuming the perpetual pout. What do you know, there's my boy after all. At least he hadn't gotten into the make-up that often went with his chosen demeanor. Or was he too young for that anyway? Adie hadn't been allowed to wear make-up until she'd been thirteen; were they going to have to enforce such a rule for their son? And why the fuck was he thinking about all that now? Oh, yeah, because he frequently wore make-up himself and even without any tonight, this whole situation, with Lars's bandmate present, had him questioning his own masculinity. Right.
Noticing the shimmer and dance of colour as his youngest squirmed in his seat, Billie grinned. "You wanna talk about your lessons, Jake?"
Jakob nodded vigorously. "Tré made me my own drumsticks so they're not so big and he lets me bang on his kit even with the snare thing on but I'm not allowed cymbals 'cause he got hit in the head once and he doesn't want me to get a metal plate like him. And Dad doesn't like hospitals, anyway, so that'd be bad. But he asked me if I could do this and when I could do it he started to show me some rhy-rhy-some stuff," he stumbled over the word as he bounced his leg, one hand patting his head, the other rubbing his stomach, each in a different rhythm. "It's fun!"
Billie laughed, appreciating the smiles his son's run-on sentences brought to the table - well, to the adults, anyway. He'd given up on expecting any real expression of happiness, or speech, from Joey. "I turned him over to Tré once he started really getting into it. I mean I play drums, but not at the same level. Besides, he gets pissy if he thinks he's being gypped any godfather privileges."
He shared a look with his wife, both of them remembering the long discussions that had led to naming Tré as first Joey's and then Jakob's godfather, a move that no one but the two of them and Billie's other bandmates had ever quite understood. Because the very reason that most people assumed they would have named Mike - the closeness of their friendship, discernable even without knowing the true nature of their relationship at that point - meant they knew that if something had happened to Billie and Adrienne, it would have devastated Mike. Tré was better equipped to deal with that tragedy.
Perish the thought since they weren't looking to have any more kids, but idly Billie wondered if Adie did get pregnant now, if they would end up finally naming Mike instead. He remembered when they had decided to try for Jake, and the sweet intensity and utter intimacy of the first time they'd made love with no protection at all, deliberately courting fate. He realised with a jolt that the night he and Lars had spent on the veranda not two weeks ago, making love on a pile of purloined cushions and towels, had had the same kind of feeling to it, and it had left him equally undone.
Equally bound.
His grin faltered a little at the revelation. With his wife, it had been a reaffirmation of what they'd already shared. With Lars, it had been brand new, and no less powerful for the knowledge that his lover might not feel it as strongly.
Billie looked at Lars, veiled fire burning in his eyes for a moment until he tamped it down, desperately trying to think of something else to say as his mind blanked.
Lars had visibly brightened on the information that Jake was a budding tub-thumper. He grinned as the youngest of them spoke, the smile lighting up his face. "Really, a drummer? Well you're definitely gonna have one up on me. I had a kit when I was fourteen, and I was as far from a child prodigy as you could probably get. You know, I was nowhere near the skilled performer you see sitting here today. I actually took lessons after our first album. I guess the strangest thought is that if things had gone a different way, I'd be on TV on the courts of Wimbledon or wherever instead of sitting right here. So, if you get really passionate about it…" He made a straight-ahead motion from the middle of his forehead. "You know, you should keep at it."
He'd happened to look at Billie just as the other man had looked at him, and caught the heat glowing behind his gaze. God help him, he actually blushed a little in the face of it. He opened his mouth momentarily to say something when it disappeared, but he never knew exactly what because he closed it again and looked back down at his plate, shrinking into his seat a little. What? What the fuck did I say? The look stirred some things inside him that, right then, weren't particularly welcome, and thus dashed his growing confidence as he tried to stave off various urges.
Coming to the conclusion that even talking to the kids held no safety, Lars decided to just shut the fuck up and let someone else steer the conversation in the wrong direction. Thankfully, Kirk piped up again.
"Damn, this is really good," he said around his mouthful, pointing his fork at his serving of lasagne. He looked up to Adrienne. "Did you make this from scratch? It's tasty. Compliments to the chef."
Lars reached across to take another couple of slices of garlic bread - oh yeah, he was going to smell awesome - and somehow happened to catch Joey's eye as he reached for his water. The drummer gave a little smile before both of them looked back down to their plates. Forhelvede, get me out of here, he hissed inwardly when he realised they'd only been at the house for twenty five minutes. While Kirk talked about…some fucking thing, he wasn't even paying attention, Lars glanced around the table. He didn't dare look at Billie, resigning himself to the fact that he'd probably catch his eye, or the younger man would look a certain way, or even something as tame as a pink tongue peeking out to lick at sauce at the corner of his mouth…fucking hell, something was bound to make his stomach swirl in an entirely different way, and he just could not do that, not here, not tonight. No, until he pulled some confidence back, he was content to resort to the equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and going 'la la la la'.
Unfortunately, his eyes happened to fall on Adie just as this train of thought came to a stop, and a untimely, loud thought crashed into his mind.
I'm fucking your husband.
Green eyes bulged and Lars choked on his mouthful, coughing harshly, face going red from the lack of breath and the shock of such an abrupt thought. He heard chairs scrape and worried voices but didn't see whose they were, face turned down towards the floor. A few horrible moments passed before he managed to clear it, gulping down air when the coughing subsided. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that he was being offered water by someone, he wasn't sure who. He ignored it and reached for his wine, necking the entire glass and putting it back on the table with a little more force than was necessary. He swallowed, coughed a couple more times and took a deep breath before straightening, smoothing out his shirt. "M'fine. Sorry," he muttered curtly, picking up his knife and fork again.
Billie Joe poured another glass of wine for his boyfriend and squeezed his shoulder before sitting back down, his own breathing resuming a normal cadence as the crisis passed. The drummer's face had been a rather alarming shade of crimson while he'd coughed and choked, and Billie had simply hovered, knowing that as long as the coughing continued he could still breathe and didn't need assistance, but feeling helpless nonetheless. Adie's hand around his elbow had reminded him to stand back. She was the one with the CPR courses, after all. She'd taken the first round whilst pregnant with Joey, saying that it made her feel better prepared, and had kept her certificates current ever since.
He drained his glass of wine and refilled it, and Adrienne's - Kirk shook his head and smiled as he mentioned being the designated driver. Sheepishly Billie muttered something about having a terrible memory and sat down, again. He felt all fluttery now, and the wine wasn't really helping, particularly as he'd told himself he was going to go easy on the alcohol tonight. His hand seemed to be operating independently of his brain, however, as he gulped down another mouthful and then forced himself to put the glass down and continue eating.
Another awkward silence descended, unbroken this time by Kirk and Adie's friendly chatter. It was abruptly ended by the quietest table occupant.
"Can I go now?" Joey asked, tone devoid of any expression. He laid his utensils in a neat line along the centre of his empty plate and looked expectantly at his mother.
"You don't want any dessert?"
He rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? With how fucking tense it is in here? No, thanks."
The silence resulting from that outburst had the texture of shock, not awkwardness. Billie exchanged a glance with his wife. They'd talked about this, knowing it would come up sooner or later; he just hadn't expected it now, of all times, though maybe he should have. Knowing how he'd behaved as a teenager; knowing that even if he didn't understand all the reasons behind it, Joey would have picked up on the importance of this evening to the adults: Billie definitely should have expected a surfeit of attitude.
Billie's hand shot out and grasped Joey's chin, forcing his son to look at him, letting him see his father's anger and disappointment clearly. "At 12:01 a.m. on your eighteenth birthday, you can come to me and curse a blue streak if that's what you want to do. Until then, you will keep a respectful tongue in your head and refrain from using that kind of language in this house. And if you think I'm being a hypocrite, you're fucking right I am. I'm thirty-four years old, Joseph, not eleven, and the rules are different. I want you to apologise to your mother."
The small head movements the boy made were too tentative to break Billie's grip and long lashes so like his own obscured dark eyes as he murmured, "Sorry, Mom."
Adrienne graciously accepted the apology and Billie tilted Joey's chin up a bit more until their eyes met again. "Thank you. You may be excused from the table." He let go, brushing a thumb across one chubby cheek in a tender gesture before withdrawing his hand completely. A hint of stricken gratitude accompanied the relief in Joey's expression as he nodded and fled. Listening to him run up the stairs, Billie's stomach twisted, wondering if he'd been too harsh or handled it all wrong. He was experienced in dealing with small children by now, but when it came to disciplining after they hit puberty, he was operating in the dark.
He tried to smile at the rest of the table. "Sorry about that."
Jakob scooted over into the vacated chair and put a tiny hand on Billie's arm. "When Joey gets like that, Grandma says he's just God's revenge on you. So it's okay, 'cause there's a reason."
Billie Joe looked at the earnest little face staring up at him, and then at his wife biting back a smile, and did the only thing he could: he cracked up.
Lars had echoed Joey's eyeroll once the surprise at his profanity had subsided. Good to know that I'm not completely fucking oversensitive, kid. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the time when Myles reached that precious age, but it would be nothing if not a challenge, and he did like challenges. Fuck it, that was a good couple of years away yet.
He simply couldn't bring himself to laugh with much sincerity at the precocious Jakob's simple reassurance, he wasn't in the right frame of mind. But seeing Billie laugh, seeing him break into a wide, bright grin, seeing the corners of his eyes crease and hearing his bright, almost relieved sounding laughter did draw a smile from his lips. It sort of loosened all the tension inside him, the knots in his stomach relaxing, the tightness in his throat fading. They didn't completely vanish, by any means, but it was quite the relief after over an hour of it.
He was struck with a sudden urge, swooping low in his stomach, to nuzzle at the younger man's neck. He buried it.
It did, however, relax him a little more - it didn't improve his mood much, and merely looking at Billie did do the exact thing he feared, stirring that urge, but it did relax him. Enough for this subdued Dane to fade back a little, for a more familiar Lars to tentatively step in. He washed down his bite of garlic bread with wine, that pleasant warmth that came with alcohol burning faintly in his midsection, and leaned forward a little to speak to Jake.
"God's revenge? Has your Dad been really naughty?" Something wicked danced just behind his eyes, but the rest of his face and his voice held a boyish overenthusiasm. "Has he been a bad boy? You want me to slap him on the wrist?"
Beside him, Kirk raised his eyebrows, a slightly incredulous smile on his face. Lars kept his eyes on Jake and seemingly had gotten over his burgeoning issues. In truth, after that sudden thought that had shaken him so badly, he'd fallen back on what he'd always done and, foolishly, pushed out of his mind the fact that Adrienne was even there.
Been really naughty? Slap my wrist? What the fuck? Billie saw Kirk's subtle yet overt surprise out of the corner of his eye and he felt pretty much the same. Times ten, maybe. A quick glance at Jakob showed nothing but puzzled curiosity, thankfully too young to even notice the layers of nuance around Lars suggesting that he punish Billie like an errant schoolboy around the turn of the last century. Or mid-twentieth century, he supposed; a hundred years ago they were probably still using the strap in schools.
Sudden, shocking heat flooded him at that thought and if he'd had less of a firm grip on himself, Billie would have let out a moan. But he'd been reining everything in so tightly tonight that no sound escaped, and though he felt warmer he didn't think he'd actually flushed. What the hell was wrong with him? Who got half-hard from thirty seconds of imagining his boyfriend hitting him? Jesus!
Seeing his son's expectant expression, he realised that he was supposed to answer that. Billie opened his mouth and an exceptionally eloquent, "Um," emerged. Alone.
He followed the boy's gaze to Adrienne, who smiled when Billie made eye contact. He had the feeling that she knew exactly what kind of imagery had played in his head and when her smile tilted slightly, dimple appearing in her left cheek, he groaned inwardly. He knew that look. That dimple all but shouted, 'I love it when you squirm'.
"I think that sounds fair, don't you?" she said sweetly. Jake nodded agreeably and hopped back into his own chair, going back to his food. Mom Had Spoken. And in this case, Adie was the primary disciplinarian in the family. They had no room for an archaic 'wait until your father gets home' type of arrangement, not when Billie Joe was gone for weeks or even months at a time whilst touring. He did what he could, when he was home or when he was able to bring them all with him, but a great deal landed on the slender shoulders currently exposed by the deceptively demure neckline of her sleeveless black dress, sheer fabric clinging to her collarbone.
Billie recognised that he was stuck; there was no way to back out gracefully with Jakob there - it would undermine his wife's authority when it came time to mete out real punishment to their kids. He couldn't laugh it off the way he might have with only adults in the room. He'd say that didn't know why it freaked him out so much, either, because truly it wasn't that big a deal…except it was. Or more precisely, what it had linked itself to was. He didn't know if he was prepared to handle that sort of reaction or fantasising when it wasn't in the heat of the moment, or in private, neither of which conditions applied to this situation.
Not daring to look at anyone, Billie extended his arm towards Lars, forearm already bared since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt before eating. He didn't even know which way his hand should face but he knew the inner wrist was more sensitive and so he held it palm up, fingers curling a little at how vulnerable it felt, and braced himself.
Positively delighted with the 'um' that breached Billie's lips and not even hearing Adrienne's consent - blocking it out was rather more accurate - Lars saw Jake's nod and swung his gaze to Billie. The younger man had his eyes averted to the corner of the table, his wrist presented. The drummer grinned and grasped Billie's hand, fingers curling to interlock with his lover's, an instinct to offer some reassurance.
"'Ey, c'mon," he murmured, giving Billie's arm a little tug and trying to catch his eye. There was softness in his voice. His next words, though, were coloured with something a little darker. "Take it like a man."
He shifted his chair out so as not to smack his elbow on the table, then raised his hand and brought it down sharply against tattooed skin, giving Billie the slapped wrist he deserved. It wasn't too hard, but it sure as fuck wasn't soft, as was evident in the pink marks that appeared shortly after, forming the outline of his fingers. Billie had flinched a little under the blow, and that, coupled with his compliance, made his stomach jerk in an exceedingly pleasant way.
He let go of Billie's hand, a touch of smugness in his smile. "There ya go. Good boy." He turned to flash Kirk the same smile, but along the way his gaze found Adrienne, and the smile faded. A stone dropped in his stomach, his gaze faltering. Did you actually just fucking do that? Right in front of her? He looked back to his meal, face heating up, muttering. "Um, sorry about that, that's more your job, right?"
Lars Ulrich normally found it extremely difficult to apologise. He was who he was, and most of his actions and words, he stood by. Now, here, with Adrienne, he felt the constant need to apologise, was almost falling over himself to do so. What for, though?
For being with Billie.
His eyes widened and went a little glassy as he stared down at his half-eaten lasagne, ironically like some chastised child. And a voice, a shout that had been absent from his mind for almost two weeks suddenly chose to reappear again.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
He swallowed. Very hard. The table gave a sudden jolt, the china and glasses rattling as Lars pushed his chair back and caught his knee on the table leg. "Um, your bathroom, I'm gonna…I'll…" Without raising his eyes, he rose and hurried out of the room. "I'll find it."
He was totally confused, utterly mortified and he couldn't even adequately explain to himself why.
Now, now Billie Joe was blushing, his face pinker than the fading finger outlines on his inner forearm, embarrassed almost to the point of humiliation by the way his body had jerked when Lars had slapped him; by the rock solid erection this weirdness had produced. He saw the drummer's smile die when his field of vision encountered Adrienne, and his subsequent remarks and flight made Billie want to growl in frustration. Hadn't Lars even heard what she'd said?
The pressure to say something, anything, in the void left by his lover's swift departure eased when Jakob's head nodded forward and Adie laughed. As usual, their youngest son wasn't doing anything halfway - when he finally got tired, it was like his batteries simply ran out. "Sleepy, little man? Why don't we get ready for bed then, hmm?"
His chin set stubbornly and Billie offered a brief prayer to the Powers That Be that he would only be saddled with one version of 'God's revenge'. Though Jake had a few years to go yet (though he'd thought he'd have more time than this before hormones owned Joey, too), he didn't think he'd be able to handle two moody, mouthy, gloom-and-doom teenagers in the house at the same time without killing one of them. Or possibly himself. "But I wanted ice cream."
Adrienne chuffed him lightly under the chin. "How about we get Daddy up in the morning and he can make waffles for us, and you can have a little bit of ice cream with your waffles? How does that sound?"
"Okay," he agreed. Big, dark eyes turned to Billie. "Can I have a song?"
He hesitated only a second before nodding, feeling a little like he was the teenager and had just been told to go write on the blackboard while he was trying to hide the tent in his pants. But Billie wasn't a teenager, no matter how much he felt like one some days - and when he had been, he most likely would have told the teacher to fuck off, anyway. Besides, there were few things he loved more than singing a lullaby to his children. Joey had already outgrown it; Jake would soon enough. He rounded the table and lifted his son into his arms, surprised when Kirk stood, too.
"I'm just gonna…" The guitarist finished his sentence with a wave in the general direction of the bathroom, and Billie smiled.
"Thanks. I mean, just…yeah, thanks," he stumbled. Kirk simply smiled and left the room.
His wife wrapped her arms around both him and Jake, kissing the boy's forehead and then capturing Billie's mouth for a more serious kind of kiss. "I love you," she murmured when she drew back.
He rubbed his nose against her cheek with a sigh. "And I love you. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
Adie ran gentle fingers through his hair. "I'm going to make coffee and bring it into the living room, okay? I don't think anyone else is up for dessert either."
He agreed and carried his drowsy son upstairs, getting him ready and getting through all of two verses before Jake was sound asleep. Billie sat for a few minutes longer, arousal still buzzing through him accompanied by a slew of other emotions, contemplating how it was possible to feel basically happy overall and yet so absolutely and completely fucked up at the same time.
( to chapter 7)
Don't forget to leave some love for looking_spiffy, too!
Authors: tasyfa & looking_spiffy
Pairing: Lars Ulrich (Metallica)/Billie Joe
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 121,935 total
Disclaimer: So very completely fictional. Any similarities to real events are purely coincidental. We don't own, you don't sue. No insinuation, insemination or alienation intended.
Summary: "I don’t have words for the things you do to me." Who would’ve thought? The heavy metal drummer and the punk rock frontman, dating. That’s the happy ending, right? Wrong. Between dirty vacations and disastrous family dinners, lingering exes and shattered boundaries, Billie and Lars have a long way to go yet.
Notes: Warnings for major angst, sap, bloodplay, bondage, orgasm denial. Special thanks to evaine for assisting us with the title!
( Part 5)
CHAPTER SIX
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A fork clattered to the table, dropped from suddenly shaky hands as the doorbell rang. The sound had Adrienne poking her head in from the kitchen, where she was tossing the salad - that last-minute activity that wasn't so last-minute now. Billie stared at the partially set table. "Jesus Christ, they're early."
His wife bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh as she scooped the remaining cutlery from his hands. "Go on. I'll finish up in here while you show them around." He flashed a grateful smile and turned to go, only to be spun back into a solid kiss that temporarily halted the churning in his stomach, replacing it with familiar warmth. His eyebrows drew together quizzically when she released him and rubbed off the trace of lipstick on his mouth.
"You looked like you needed it." She shrugged and began to place the forks around the table. Billie kissed her cheek and left it at that as the doorbell rang again and he headed for the door, smoothing a hand over his rampantly curly hair before opening it.
"Hi," he greeted the two men standing there, the first with a bright bouquet of flowers and an even brighter smile as he handed them to Billie. "Oh, thanks, they're beautiful." He had his free arm around Kirk's shoulders and was in the midst of pulling him in close when he realised the other guitarist might not take kindly to that. Too late, he thought, and hugged him anyway, squelching the urge to apologise afterwards. The few times he'd encountered the rest of Metallica, Billie had felt that urge with varying strength and it galled horribly. He prided himself on never apologising for who he was. But brief though they had been, encounters with members of the original chest-beating band made him feel…well. Not to put too fine a point on it, girly. Like he didn't measure up. He didn't much like feeling that way, and he refused to change his normal behaviour in his own damn house, so Kirk would just have to deal with being hugged.
"Come on in." Billie gestured in welcome and Kirk stepped through the doorway. Lars finally followed, his reluctance clear in his body language though he remained expressionless. Billie's mouth quirked up in silent appreciation as he took in the sight. This was the most dressed-up he'd seen the drummer since the night of the awards show, but that had been for the public. This - the freshly shaved face, the ironed shirt, the neat jeans, all in unfaded black - this was for him. "C'mere, you."
He pressed a swift kiss to his lover's lips and then enveloped him in a hug, whispering by his ear, "You're the one that bites, remember?" Stepping away to shut the door, he accepted the bottle of wine with a nod of thanks and continued to talk, words spilling out in a nervous rush. "Adie's just finishing up with something, so I'll give you the grand tour-oh, hey, you have to see this."
Billie stopped in the middle of the hallway and pointed to a fabric-covered board hung on the wall, criss-crossed bands of black ribbon holding photographs in place. Family, friends, his kids and their friends, the band at various stages; they were all represented. And in one corner rested a picture of one Lars Ulrich, sat on a sun lounger wearing swim trunks, sunglasses and a grin.
"We used to keep all these on the fridge but they were getting dirty so Adie rigged this up. That's my favourite shot. A bunch more came out really well too, I can get them out later maybe if, you know, anyone wants to see them or whatever." Yeah, because that wouldn't be awkward or anything. He grimaced internally and tried to rein in his runaway mouth as his guests looked at the pictures, already knowing it was a vain hope that that would be the stupidest thing he'd say tonight.
Lars had almost thrown up.
Well, not quite, but it had been the closest he'd come in a while without the aid of alcohol. He never got overly nervous before shows - though there were a couple of notable exceptions - so it took other things to make his stomach do backflips. This dinner was most definitely one of them. In the hour preceding this, stood not really looking at a spread of photographs that remained mostly meaningless to him, the drummer had stood in his kitchen and damn near vibrated with all the nervous tics he had going on. Kirk hadn't been a great deal of help in what he'd said, but his presence and the smaller bottle of wine he'd brought aided him a little. On passing his bathroom at one point, he'd hesitated at the door, eyes on the toilet bowl, trying to swallow away the increasing tightness in his throat to little effect. The swirling in his stomach had come to nothing, though, and soon he was in the passenger seat of Kirk's Dodge, foot up on the dash, wondering if they could go around the block one more time.
C'mon, you've always said you like putting yourself in situations you're not comfortable with, his bandmate had said as they sat in the silent car.
This is different, he'd replied quietly, eyes on the Armstrong house.
So here they were, here he was, looking at photographs of a life well lived, keeping back the flush in his cheeks at his own presence on the board and almost dissolving in embarrassment at the suggestion they bust out the holiday snaps before the night was through. He trailed behind as the three of them began to meander through the house, nodding and murmuring vividly distracted appreciation here and there, Kirk almost having to drag him by his sleeve to get him to keep up. He forcefully kept his hands in his pockets, affecting nonchalance, as opposed to folding them across his chest or wrapping them around his middle like they were desperate to do.
Billie's brief kiss at the door had helped him none either; if anything it made him worse. It wasn't like he didn't want to touch, to hug, to really kiss his lover - fuck did he ever want to, but stronger was the need to keep at bay, to not…encroach. It felt like pissing on someone else's territory, y'know? This was the way he'd always been, the way he'd always had to act, and from the feel of things he was damned if his instinct was going to change anytime soon.
Stomach and mind chattering away incessantly, Lars blinked when he realised that Billie was holding his hand out to take his jacket. He shook his head to clear it and shouldered the garment off, handing it over and turning his attention to a long mirror beside him. Brushing imaginary lint from his shirt and fiddling with his sleeves, he rolled a mantra around in his head.
Not a big deal, not a big deal, not a big deal, don't be so silly, it's not a big deal…
As he straightened himself, he became aware of eyes on him, and glanced over to find Billie watching him. He slowed his activities, smoothing his palms down his front, and offered a nervous smile. The smile was returned, and when Billie turned back down the hall to hang their coats, Lars let his chin drop to his chest with a quiet, "Ugh." He scrubbed a hand over his face when Kirk came up behind him, eyebrow raised, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
"You're doing well, man. Y'don't still feel like, and I quote, 'gutting yourself with a salad fork'?"
"Shut up," Lars retorted with striking originality. Then, with a grin and a low giggle, he gave a stern demand. "Hold me."
Kirk looped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, chin resting on one of them while a tidy Danish head dropped back to rest on one of his own. "Seriously, you're gonna be fine. I'm glad I'm here, too, otherwise I would've sat at home worrying about how it's going."
Lars smirked softly, letting his eyes close and feeling his stomach settle a bit. He didn't know what the fuck he would've done if Kirk couldn't come. Probably shown up drunk and ornery. Or hid. The guitarist's voice reached his ear again. "How are you feeling?"
He snuffed a laugh. "Donington, times fifteen."
"Oh, shit!" Kirk exclaimed in a hushed voice, tightening his arm around his bandmate. "Well at least all you gotta do is eat."
"And not freak out. Sure." Lars paused. "Y'know, if I get drunk enough and I can't make out with my boyfriend, I'm probably gonna be all over you before this fuckin' night's through."
"That a promise?"
"It's a threat, baby."
The two of them breaking out into chuckles, Kirk patted Lars's chest and slid from around him as Billie returned. Lars didn't know how much of their conversation the other man had caught, but he didn't much mind. He actually felt a little better, and couldn't help but giggle at Kirk's next gambit.
"Are your kids still around, Billie? I wanted to be sure, just so I know that I can't walk around naked yet."
Billie's eyebrows rose sharply at the question but a little grin appeared, too. "Yeah, Joey will need to be pried from his computer and his stereo, and Jake's…well, he was in here," he concluded as they entered the spacious great room. Some version of Super Mario Brothers was paused on the massive TV with the Playstation controls scattered in front of it. He glanced at Kirk, the smile emerging in full. "If adult nudity were going to scar them permanently, I'm afraid the damage has already been done. Still, it'd probably be best to wait until they've gone to bed before you strip."
Pink bloomed in his cheeks as he realised that it sounded like he was flirting, an impression that wasn't helped any by the fact that he had automatically checked Kirk out after that remark, or by his having overheard the tail end of the conversation. If Kirk was comfortable holding Billie's boyfriend and teasing him about making out, then he probably hadn't been bothered by Billie's hug, which was good. And he'd made the drummer laugh, and relax at least a little bit; Billie hadn't missed the tension that spun off of Lars in a near-visible aura. All of which made him grateful that the guitarist had accompanied his lover here. Anything that helped Lars feel more comfortable was welcome.
There was a niggling bit of jealousy worming its way into him, though, that Kirk's touch could ease while his own only made things worse. He'd felt the stiff-armed way Lars had returned his embrace and the delayed, perfunctory response to his kiss. The lines of his body practically shouted, 'Don’t touch me!' - to Billie. He didn't have enough history with the drummer, enough seniority, to be counted as a comfort-enhancer. Fuck, he was the reason his boyfriend was in such knots in the first place.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he waved a hand at the rich caramel-toned room, overstuffed black leather furniture arranged around a sensually vibrant area rug by the TV. Photographs lined the top of the bookcase by the stereo that had been custom-fitted to hold vinyl albums, one smaller top shelf stuffed with 45s. The CDs were in one of the tall bookcases flanking the fireplace at the far end of the room; its mate held a growing collection of DVDs and a wildly diverse set of books: political non-fiction, romance novels, comic books, kids' books, a full set of Goosebumps, British and American sets of Harry Potter novels. Smaller, slightly more elegant furniture faced the brass firescreen, and centred over the mantel rested a large portrait of Billie's parents, done from their wedding picture. It was the only one of his father that he had.
"Um, this is our main living space, obviously. There's surround sound and, you know, all that stuff hooked up. It's not like the projection room Tré's got at his house, which is the coolest way to watch movies ever invented - you can lounge around and throw popcorn wherever you want and still feel, you know, like you're in the theatre - but it's good and I didn't have to renovate to set it up." He frowned at the toys scattered on the rug; he'd picked up everything not two hours before. Billie had no idea how one small boy could constantly make such a mess, especially when he'd been playing videogames. Joey had always been a bit of a neatnik, right from the beginning, but Jake left a path of destruction in his wake.
"The dining room and kitchen are the other side, down the hall, but you'll see those in a minute anyway. Oh, the door by the front closet, where I put your jackets? That's the bathroom. Don't be surprised when you go in there. Adrienne painted it - I told her anything but pink, so it's a bright fucking red. Kinda cool. Um…" he trailed off as a ball of grey feline fluff raced past the doorway at breakneck speed, followed by his youngest child. "Jakob! What did I tell you about running in the house?"
His son stopped dead and turned to face him with a sheepish expression. "Don't do it 'cause I might crack my head again and then we'd have to go back to the hospital and that scares the pants off you."
"Right." Billie Joe had to laugh because that was exactly what he'd said; it was a good thing that he'd censored himself at the last minute because Jake had an excellent memory and probably would have spouted that back at him, too. "C'mere, I want you to meet my friends."
He shifted his one-armed grip on both wine and flowers and placed the other around his son's shoulders. Pointing with the bouquet, he introduced them. "This is Lars, and this is Kirk. They're in the band Metallica. This is my youngest, Jakob Danger." He could see Jake roll his eyes; Billie always said his full name because he still got a thrill out of it.
"Hi," he said shyly, tugging on Billie's shirt.
Billie crouched down. "What is it, buddy?"
Jake whispered, "He looks different without shades. Is he the same Lars you went away with?"
Amused and puzzled, Billie nodded, and nodded again when his son asked if he could say something to Lars. What else was he going to answer? He motioned at Lars to also crouch down and the drummer did so, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Jake looked at him solemnly, fingering the collar of his crazily patterned Hawaiian shirt.
"Dad said you picked out my shirt and I love it so thank you." He darted forward to leave a wet kiss on the drummer's cheek and then he was off and running again. Billie drew in a breath to reiterate the 'no running in the house' rule but let it out, knowing it was useless. Jake had pretty much two speeds: full throttle and full stop.
He straightened with a rueful smile. "He does. We've had to peel it off him in order to wash it. Definitely spent too much time around his godfather in his formative years." Unable to tell anything from Lars's rigidly controlled expression, Billie mentally shrugged and made a short detour to the kitchen to drop off the hostess gifts, before returning and taking his guests to the door leading downstairs.
"Upstairs is just bedrooms and shit, so I'm gonna show you my studio real quick and then we'll come back up and eat."
Lars admittedly didn't care too much for this grand tour - his curious nature was beaten back by a short attention span and skittish nerves. He rubbed absently at his cheek where Jakob had given him that swalk. Normally he was pretty good with kids, but…fuck, everything about tonight just had him thrown off, so all he'd managed as Jake scampered off was a small, forced sounding chuckle. Fandens.
As the three of them descended the staircase, Kirk chuckled. "Jakob Danger, is that for real? That's awesome."
Lars's bandmate and his lover got into a conversation about their guitars once they were in Billie's studio. Lars was divided. Part of him was jealous of Kirk's utter ease with the entire situation, and part of him was relieved that he himself didn't have to attempt stilted conversation. He cast his eyes around the room, rocking from side to side, hands twisting in his pockets a little as he lost himself in his thoughts.
Billie's house was so different from his - warmer colours, much more of a family home. It wasn't like he was ever going to live there, fuck no, and he didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but this was certainly no smooth rock star pad and he sure as hell didn't feel like he fit in here. Even, at least to his own rather melancholy mind, that arrangement of photographs in the hallway was an example of how out of place he was - he didn't seem to fit the scheme, he didn't match anybody else, off in his own corner. On top of that, not only was his picture flanking one of Adrienne, dreadlocked hair pulled up into a high ponytail and glowing smile on her pretty face, but above him was the image of Mike, young, gawky, laughing, and with his arm slung around an equally young Billie. Fuck if Lars wasn't the proverbial square peg.
God-fucking-dammit motherfucker, he was going to have to stop with all this negative fucking thinking. The night obviously wasn't going to go any quicker, and the more he mired himself in wretched thoughts, the worse it was going to get. The sudden sear of impatience at himself elicited a growl under his breath that he didn't even notice. He turned to Billie, hand raising to rest at the younger man's arm, thumb rubbing at a mark that wasn't there. Swallowing his trepidation, eyes flicking from Billie to the floor and back again, he spoke quietly.
"Um, does Adrienne want some help with anything?"
He was going to fucking try, dammit.
"Does," Billie began to repeat the question, startled at both its asking and the hand on his arm, warm through the thin material of his shirt. He interrupted himself with a short bark of nervous laughter. "Um, no. No. It's-thanks for asking, but she doesn't trust anyone with a dick to do anything in her kitchen that requires an attention span of more than two minutes. There may have been an incident with a plastic spatula once." He widened his eyes comically, a real smile settling onto his lips. "Seriously, everything's pretty much done. It's just, you know, it's not fancy or anything, it's just food. Um, we'll go eat in a sec. I wanted to show you something first."
He stepped away, though reluctant to break the contact that Lars had initiated, and hauled out a guitar case from amongst the many stashed in the studio. Snapping it open, he lifted the sticker-laden instrument out and brought it over to the two musicians. He could tell that the drummer knew which guitar it was even before he said anything.
"This is Blue." Aiming a smile at Kirk, whose easy chatter about their shared instrument had made for a grateful easing of his own tension, Billie explained the short version. "She's the last gift I ever got from my father and she's what I learned to play on. I had a replica made a few years ago so I could still get the same sound without taking her out of the case too often." He noticed Lars examining the stickers. "My sisters called me BJ when I was little and I fucking hated it. Don't get any ideas, dude."
Billie scrunched his face up at the little smirk that inspired, inexpressibly glad to see it even if it meant that he'd probably be teased with the despised nickname at some point. Carefully he replaced Blue in the case with the same faint ache of separation that he always had and turned back to his guests.
"Okay, we'd better go; I said we'd be a couple of minutes and got that look, you know. Valid, since I've been known to disappear down here for an entire weekend, but, yeah." This time his smile had a brittle quality. "Besides, I don't know about you guys, but I'm hungry."
He was, too, but it didn't stop his stomach from churning as he led the way back up the stairs. At least it wasn't Lars going up alone to help Adie; that idea had unnerved the fuck out of him. No, this way he could observe the train wreck in progress. Shut up, he told his suddenly pessimistic brain. It's only a goddamned dinner. Everyone will be polite, we can get through this and my stubborn fucking boyfriend can figure out that my wife isn't an obstacle. Or whatever he thinks she is.
Lars was shooed up the stairs by Kirk, being made to follow directly behind Billie. So skewed was his temperament, though, that he didn't even think to give his lover's ass a mischievous squeeze as it bobbed in front of him so tantalisingly. He did, however, have the presence of mind to draw attention to Billie's nickname.
"What about Beej? Or B-Jo?"
"Yeah, like a rap star," Kirk piped up from behind. "Ne-Yo, J Lo, B-Jo."
This caused a ripple of giggles, and they sounded at ease enough. But then again with Lars feeling as out of orbit as he did, he could have been wrong.
Then they were at the top of the staircase, the door to the studio closing behind them, and this was it. Nothing else to delay them. The three of them moved through into the dining room, Lars unconsciously tugging at his shirt collar, the eternally friendly Kirk complimenting Jake on his outfit and asking him if he had any interest in surfing. The drummer looked over the table, at the modest spread not quite complete, large space in the middle indicating that the main dish was on its way.
And when Billie ducked out to call upstairs for his other son to come down, it arrived. Adrienne stepped into the room, mighty lasagne held aloft in oven mitt covered hands. Kirk immediately offered to help, moving the wine glasses aside as she set the dish down on the table. Lars just sort of stood off to the side, feeling pointy and awkward. When Adie straightened, he took a breath and finally greeted her.
"Hey."
Couldn't knock a classic. Especially when it was accompanied by what might have been a smile tighter than a drumskin. His gut clenched a little when she met his eyes and returned the greeting.
Billie returned, thankfully, and moved close to Adie, close enough that their arms brushed and they exchanged a brief smile, and Lars's eyes shot to the floor in momentary panic. He swallowed hard and cursed himself inwardly. Would you quit acting so silly? That was nothing and you're freaking out already. You're like a fucking…deer. Absurdly amused by that thought, Lars sputtered out a snigger and had to shake his head in response to the odd looks he got for it. "It's nothing, never mind."
He wondered silently if he was supposed to pull Adie's chair out for her, or something. Ugh.
The quick smile from Adrienne at his eyeroll over having to drag their eldest out of his room was a paperthin buffer against the tension in the room, which had ratcheted straight up with her appearance. Billie Joe hoped his return smile did the same for her. He knew that she was nervous, too, and uncomfortably aware that she was the source of all this, but also determined. Adie was no more likely to back down than he was. Good thing they didn't have too many serious fights because the few they did have were spectacular.
He took the oven mitts and deposited them on the sideboard as she extended a hand to Kirk. "Hi, Kirk, I'm Adrienne, or Adie. Either is fine. Billie wasn't sure how strict a vegetarian you are so we went with vegan everything." She smiled brightly as the guitarist shook hands and thanked her. Her eyes flickered to Billie and he didn't think anyone one else would notice that she had to steel herself a little as she moved forward to properly greet his lover.
"It's good to see you," Adrienne told Lars. She took his hands and leaned in, unknowingly kissing his cheek right over where Jake had earlier. "Thank you for coming."
Billie bit his lip at the resultant mix of emotions in expressive green eyes, though he knew each was a mere hint at what the drummer really felt. He stifled the impulse to laugh: kissed and claimed by three Armstrong family members. The impulse died as the fourth finally joined them. While the rest of them were also dressed mostly in black - Jake's burst of colour excepted, of course - Joey wore his midnight-coloured clothing like a shroud of gloom as he slunk into the room and sat down in one of the two places missing a wine glass without looking at anyone.
A bewildered frown crossed Billie's face. Last year, he'd had a happy child who knew how to laugh. He still wasn't entirely clear on how to deal with the moody creature who'd taken his place over the last few months. He remembered a screaming argument with his mother when he'd been about fifteen, and her wish that someday he'd have a kid just like him. It amused him in the abstract sense, this karma coming around to bite him in the ass, but on a practical level it frustrated him more than anything else.
"Joey, this is Lars and this i-"
"I know who they are. I'm not blind and I can read," he sneered. His tone became more civil as he addressed their guests directly. "Hey. You guys play some cool stuff."
That, apparently, was that. Having acknowledged their presence, Joey proceeded to ignore them and reached for the glass of water by his plate. Billie exchanged a speaking look with his wife but at her tiny shrug, he let it slide. As his son had been half-decently polite to the Metallica musicians, if not so much to his father, he didn't want to make a big issue out of it. Not right now, anyway. They could have a chat about his attitude tomorrow - for all the good it would do.
"Um, shall we?" He swept a hand over the table and took his place at the end by his silent son, his wife seating herself at the far end and encouraging Kirk to sit beside her, Jake on her other side. That left the remaining chair beside Billie for Lars, and he was both grateful for the space left between his lover and his wife, hopefully easing both their nerves a little bit, and apprehensive about his own ability to carry on a normal conversation with this half of the table.
Okay, okay, Lars was settling a little more. This was good. His nerves had sparked sharply when Adie kissed him and had introduced a little of the wealth of skittish emotion into his eyes that he was trying to keep buried. This was tempered, though, by amusement at Joey's angst and begrudging civility. It was an uneasy balance, but a balance nonetheless.
He flashed another smile to Billie as he seated himself, feeling better for the fact that he could sit next to his lover and not feel quite so much like a fish out of water. In fact, it boosted his confidence enough that he took it upon himself to pour the wine. He stood again and lifted the uncorked bottle of red. "Okay, who's having this?"
All three seated adults answered, and he took care not to give too much thought to who he served before who - that would have been crossing into absurd paranoia. He glanced at Billie as he finished filling his glass, not exactly needing approval, but maybe unconsciously seeking some kind of silent recognition for his efforts.
This is me trying. Fuck anyone that says I'm not trying.
Lars sat back down, poured himself a glass of white, plates were filled and one of those wonderfully awkward silences descended. The kind where the longer it goes on, the more nobody wants to break it, and it just gets worse. Kirk cast his eyes around the table before looking back to his plate and swallowing his mouthful. "We've been having a lot of weather, huh?"
This was met with two uneasy chuckles and a pointed glare from vibrant green eyes. Kirk mouthed a silent, 'What?' to his bandmate, and Lars responded by glaring again, before looking down to his meal. Another minute crawled by, and he decided to break the silence himself this time.
"So, either of you two boys learning any instruments? Dad helping you out?"
He realised that he'd probably only get the barest mumble of response from the eldest son, but anything was better than spiky silence or Kirk coming out with any more dumb remarks. He also sort of wondered exactly how much the rest of the family knew about his and Billie's vacation, and more to the point, if Joey had been perceptive enough to figure anything out past whatever he'd been told. The thought was quite a horrifying one, and maybe the relative safety of talking to the kids wasn't such a safe one after all.
This is so ridiculous, Billie thought after Kirk's comment fell flat. We're all grown adults experienced in fucking small talk and the best - the only - thing anyone can think to talk about is the weather?
He seized on the question about instruments with a grateful smile at his lover. He could tell that the drummer was making a huge effort here and despite the rampant awkwardness, it gave him a warm little glow in his midsection. Lars obviously considered this important because Billie did, and that meant so much to him.
Glancing at his sullen offspring, he looked heavenward and answered, "Yeah, Joey and I started guitar lessons last summer when I was on break from touring and picked it back up when the tour ended. He's pretty good." Pride softened his voice and his son flicked a glance at him, his mouth curving up for a millisecond before resuming the perpetual pout. What do you know, there's my boy after all. At least he hadn't gotten into the make-up that often went with his chosen demeanor. Or was he too young for that anyway? Adie hadn't been allowed to wear make-up until she'd been thirteen; were they going to have to enforce such a rule for their son? And why the fuck was he thinking about all that now? Oh, yeah, because he frequently wore make-up himself and even without any tonight, this whole situation, with Lars's bandmate present, had him questioning his own masculinity. Right.
Noticing the shimmer and dance of colour as his youngest squirmed in his seat, Billie grinned. "You wanna talk about your lessons, Jake?"
Jakob nodded vigorously. "Tré made me my own drumsticks so they're not so big and he lets me bang on his kit even with the snare thing on but I'm not allowed cymbals 'cause he got hit in the head once and he doesn't want me to get a metal plate like him. And Dad doesn't like hospitals, anyway, so that'd be bad. But he asked me if I could do this and when I could do it he started to show me some rhy-rhy-some stuff," he stumbled over the word as he bounced his leg, one hand patting his head, the other rubbing his stomach, each in a different rhythm. "It's fun!"
Billie laughed, appreciating the smiles his son's run-on sentences brought to the table - well, to the adults, anyway. He'd given up on expecting any real expression of happiness, or speech, from Joey. "I turned him over to Tré once he started really getting into it. I mean I play drums, but not at the same level. Besides, he gets pissy if he thinks he's being gypped any godfather privileges."
He shared a look with his wife, both of them remembering the long discussions that had led to naming Tré as first Joey's and then Jakob's godfather, a move that no one but the two of them and Billie's other bandmates had ever quite understood. Because the very reason that most people assumed they would have named Mike - the closeness of their friendship, discernable even without knowing the true nature of their relationship at that point - meant they knew that if something had happened to Billie and Adrienne, it would have devastated Mike. Tré was better equipped to deal with that tragedy.
Perish the thought since they weren't looking to have any more kids, but idly Billie wondered if Adie did get pregnant now, if they would end up finally naming Mike instead. He remembered when they had decided to try for Jake, and the sweet intensity and utter intimacy of the first time they'd made love with no protection at all, deliberately courting fate. He realised with a jolt that the night he and Lars had spent on the veranda not two weeks ago, making love on a pile of purloined cushions and towels, had had the same kind of feeling to it, and it had left him equally undone.
Equally bound.
His grin faltered a little at the revelation. With his wife, it had been a reaffirmation of what they'd already shared. With Lars, it had been brand new, and no less powerful for the knowledge that his lover might not feel it as strongly.
Billie looked at Lars, veiled fire burning in his eyes for a moment until he tamped it down, desperately trying to think of something else to say as his mind blanked.
Lars had visibly brightened on the information that Jake was a budding tub-thumper. He grinned as the youngest of them spoke, the smile lighting up his face. "Really, a drummer? Well you're definitely gonna have one up on me. I had a kit when I was fourteen, and I was as far from a child prodigy as you could probably get. You know, I was nowhere near the skilled performer you see sitting here today. I actually took lessons after our first album. I guess the strangest thought is that if things had gone a different way, I'd be on TV on the courts of Wimbledon or wherever instead of sitting right here. So, if you get really passionate about it…" He made a straight-ahead motion from the middle of his forehead. "You know, you should keep at it."
He'd happened to look at Billie just as the other man had looked at him, and caught the heat glowing behind his gaze. God help him, he actually blushed a little in the face of it. He opened his mouth momentarily to say something when it disappeared, but he never knew exactly what because he closed it again and looked back down at his plate, shrinking into his seat a little. What? What the fuck did I say? The look stirred some things inside him that, right then, weren't particularly welcome, and thus dashed his growing confidence as he tried to stave off various urges.
Coming to the conclusion that even talking to the kids held no safety, Lars decided to just shut the fuck up and let someone else steer the conversation in the wrong direction. Thankfully, Kirk piped up again.
"Damn, this is really good," he said around his mouthful, pointing his fork at his serving of lasagne. He looked up to Adrienne. "Did you make this from scratch? It's tasty. Compliments to the chef."
Lars reached across to take another couple of slices of garlic bread - oh yeah, he was going to smell awesome - and somehow happened to catch Joey's eye as he reached for his water. The drummer gave a little smile before both of them looked back down to their plates. Forhelvede, get me out of here, he hissed inwardly when he realised they'd only been at the house for twenty five minutes. While Kirk talked about…some fucking thing, he wasn't even paying attention, Lars glanced around the table. He didn't dare look at Billie, resigning himself to the fact that he'd probably catch his eye, or the younger man would look a certain way, or even something as tame as a pink tongue peeking out to lick at sauce at the corner of his mouth…fucking hell, something was bound to make his stomach swirl in an entirely different way, and he just could not do that, not here, not tonight. No, until he pulled some confidence back, he was content to resort to the equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and going 'la la la la'.
Unfortunately, his eyes happened to fall on Adie just as this train of thought came to a stop, and a untimely, loud thought crashed into his mind.
I'm fucking your husband.
Green eyes bulged and Lars choked on his mouthful, coughing harshly, face going red from the lack of breath and the shock of such an abrupt thought. He heard chairs scrape and worried voices but didn't see whose they were, face turned down towards the floor. A few horrible moments passed before he managed to clear it, gulping down air when the coughing subsided. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that he was being offered water by someone, he wasn't sure who. He ignored it and reached for his wine, necking the entire glass and putting it back on the table with a little more force than was necessary. He swallowed, coughed a couple more times and took a deep breath before straightening, smoothing out his shirt. "M'fine. Sorry," he muttered curtly, picking up his knife and fork again.
Billie Joe poured another glass of wine for his boyfriend and squeezed his shoulder before sitting back down, his own breathing resuming a normal cadence as the crisis passed. The drummer's face had been a rather alarming shade of crimson while he'd coughed and choked, and Billie had simply hovered, knowing that as long as the coughing continued he could still breathe and didn't need assistance, but feeling helpless nonetheless. Adie's hand around his elbow had reminded him to stand back. She was the one with the CPR courses, after all. She'd taken the first round whilst pregnant with Joey, saying that it made her feel better prepared, and had kept her certificates current ever since.
He drained his glass of wine and refilled it, and Adrienne's - Kirk shook his head and smiled as he mentioned being the designated driver. Sheepishly Billie muttered something about having a terrible memory and sat down, again. He felt all fluttery now, and the wine wasn't really helping, particularly as he'd told himself he was going to go easy on the alcohol tonight. His hand seemed to be operating independently of his brain, however, as he gulped down another mouthful and then forced himself to put the glass down and continue eating.
Another awkward silence descended, unbroken this time by Kirk and Adie's friendly chatter. It was abruptly ended by the quietest table occupant.
"Can I go now?" Joey asked, tone devoid of any expression. He laid his utensils in a neat line along the centre of his empty plate and looked expectantly at his mother.
"You don't want any dessert?"
He rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? With how fucking tense it is in here? No, thanks."
The silence resulting from that outburst had the texture of shock, not awkwardness. Billie exchanged a glance with his wife. They'd talked about this, knowing it would come up sooner or later; he just hadn't expected it now, of all times, though maybe he should have. Knowing how he'd behaved as a teenager; knowing that even if he didn't understand all the reasons behind it, Joey would have picked up on the importance of this evening to the adults: Billie definitely should have expected a surfeit of attitude.
Billie's hand shot out and grasped Joey's chin, forcing his son to look at him, letting him see his father's anger and disappointment clearly. "At 12:01 a.m. on your eighteenth birthday, you can come to me and curse a blue streak if that's what you want to do. Until then, you will keep a respectful tongue in your head and refrain from using that kind of language in this house. And if you think I'm being a hypocrite, you're fucking right I am. I'm thirty-four years old, Joseph, not eleven, and the rules are different. I want you to apologise to your mother."
The small head movements the boy made were too tentative to break Billie's grip and long lashes so like his own obscured dark eyes as he murmured, "Sorry, Mom."
Adrienne graciously accepted the apology and Billie tilted Joey's chin up a bit more until their eyes met again. "Thank you. You may be excused from the table." He let go, brushing a thumb across one chubby cheek in a tender gesture before withdrawing his hand completely. A hint of stricken gratitude accompanied the relief in Joey's expression as he nodded and fled. Listening to him run up the stairs, Billie's stomach twisted, wondering if he'd been too harsh or handled it all wrong. He was experienced in dealing with small children by now, but when it came to disciplining after they hit puberty, he was operating in the dark.
He tried to smile at the rest of the table. "Sorry about that."
Jakob scooted over into the vacated chair and put a tiny hand on Billie's arm. "When Joey gets like that, Grandma says he's just God's revenge on you. So it's okay, 'cause there's a reason."
Billie Joe looked at the earnest little face staring up at him, and then at his wife biting back a smile, and did the only thing he could: he cracked up.
Lars had echoed Joey's eyeroll once the surprise at his profanity had subsided. Good to know that I'm not completely fucking oversensitive, kid. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the time when Myles reached that precious age, but it would be nothing if not a challenge, and he did like challenges. Fuck it, that was a good couple of years away yet.
He simply couldn't bring himself to laugh with much sincerity at the precocious Jakob's simple reassurance, he wasn't in the right frame of mind. But seeing Billie laugh, seeing him break into a wide, bright grin, seeing the corners of his eyes crease and hearing his bright, almost relieved sounding laughter did draw a smile from his lips. It sort of loosened all the tension inside him, the knots in his stomach relaxing, the tightness in his throat fading. They didn't completely vanish, by any means, but it was quite the relief after over an hour of it.
He was struck with a sudden urge, swooping low in his stomach, to nuzzle at the younger man's neck. He buried it.
It did, however, relax him a little more - it didn't improve his mood much, and merely looking at Billie did do the exact thing he feared, stirring that urge, but it did relax him. Enough for this subdued Dane to fade back a little, for a more familiar Lars to tentatively step in. He washed down his bite of garlic bread with wine, that pleasant warmth that came with alcohol burning faintly in his midsection, and leaned forward a little to speak to Jake.
"God's revenge? Has your Dad been really naughty?" Something wicked danced just behind his eyes, but the rest of his face and his voice held a boyish overenthusiasm. "Has he been a bad boy? You want me to slap him on the wrist?"
Beside him, Kirk raised his eyebrows, a slightly incredulous smile on his face. Lars kept his eyes on Jake and seemingly had gotten over his burgeoning issues. In truth, after that sudden thought that had shaken him so badly, he'd fallen back on what he'd always done and, foolishly, pushed out of his mind the fact that Adrienne was even there.
Been really naughty? Slap my wrist? What the fuck? Billie saw Kirk's subtle yet overt surprise out of the corner of his eye and he felt pretty much the same. Times ten, maybe. A quick glance at Jakob showed nothing but puzzled curiosity, thankfully too young to even notice the layers of nuance around Lars suggesting that he punish Billie like an errant schoolboy around the turn of the last century. Or mid-twentieth century, he supposed; a hundred years ago they were probably still using the strap in schools.
Sudden, shocking heat flooded him at that thought and if he'd had less of a firm grip on himself, Billie would have let out a moan. But he'd been reining everything in so tightly tonight that no sound escaped, and though he felt warmer he didn't think he'd actually flushed. What the hell was wrong with him? Who got half-hard from thirty seconds of imagining his boyfriend hitting him? Jesus!
Seeing his son's expectant expression, he realised that he was supposed to answer that. Billie opened his mouth and an exceptionally eloquent, "Um," emerged. Alone.
He followed the boy's gaze to Adrienne, who smiled when Billie made eye contact. He had the feeling that she knew exactly what kind of imagery had played in his head and when her smile tilted slightly, dimple appearing in her left cheek, he groaned inwardly. He knew that look. That dimple all but shouted, 'I love it when you squirm'.
"I think that sounds fair, don't you?" she said sweetly. Jake nodded agreeably and hopped back into his own chair, going back to his food. Mom Had Spoken. And in this case, Adie was the primary disciplinarian in the family. They had no room for an archaic 'wait until your father gets home' type of arrangement, not when Billie Joe was gone for weeks or even months at a time whilst touring. He did what he could, when he was home or when he was able to bring them all with him, but a great deal landed on the slender shoulders currently exposed by the deceptively demure neckline of her sleeveless black dress, sheer fabric clinging to her collarbone.
Billie recognised that he was stuck; there was no way to back out gracefully with Jakob there - it would undermine his wife's authority when it came time to mete out real punishment to their kids. He couldn't laugh it off the way he might have with only adults in the room. He'd say that didn't know why it freaked him out so much, either, because truly it wasn't that big a deal…except it was. Or more precisely, what it had linked itself to was. He didn't know if he was prepared to handle that sort of reaction or fantasising when it wasn't in the heat of the moment, or in private, neither of which conditions applied to this situation.
Not daring to look at anyone, Billie extended his arm towards Lars, forearm already bared since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt before eating. He didn't even know which way his hand should face but he knew the inner wrist was more sensitive and so he held it palm up, fingers curling a little at how vulnerable it felt, and braced himself.
Positively delighted with the 'um' that breached Billie's lips and not even hearing Adrienne's consent - blocking it out was rather more accurate - Lars saw Jake's nod and swung his gaze to Billie. The younger man had his eyes averted to the corner of the table, his wrist presented. The drummer grinned and grasped Billie's hand, fingers curling to interlock with his lover's, an instinct to offer some reassurance.
"'Ey, c'mon," he murmured, giving Billie's arm a little tug and trying to catch his eye. There was softness in his voice. His next words, though, were coloured with something a little darker. "Take it like a man."
He shifted his chair out so as not to smack his elbow on the table, then raised his hand and brought it down sharply against tattooed skin, giving Billie the slapped wrist he deserved. It wasn't too hard, but it sure as fuck wasn't soft, as was evident in the pink marks that appeared shortly after, forming the outline of his fingers. Billie had flinched a little under the blow, and that, coupled with his compliance, made his stomach jerk in an exceedingly pleasant way.
He let go of Billie's hand, a touch of smugness in his smile. "There ya go. Good boy." He turned to flash Kirk the same smile, but along the way his gaze found Adrienne, and the smile faded. A stone dropped in his stomach, his gaze faltering. Did you actually just fucking do that? Right in front of her? He looked back to his meal, face heating up, muttering. "Um, sorry about that, that's more your job, right?"
Lars Ulrich normally found it extremely difficult to apologise. He was who he was, and most of his actions and words, he stood by. Now, here, with Adrienne, he felt the constant need to apologise, was almost falling over himself to do so. What for, though?
For being with Billie.
His eyes widened and went a little glassy as he stared down at his half-eaten lasagne, ironically like some chastised child. And a voice, a shout that had been absent from his mind for almost two weeks suddenly chose to reappear again.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
He swallowed. Very hard. The table gave a sudden jolt, the china and glasses rattling as Lars pushed his chair back and caught his knee on the table leg. "Um, your bathroom, I'm gonna…I'll…" Without raising his eyes, he rose and hurried out of the room. "I'll find it."
He was totally confused, utterly mortified and he couldn't even adequately explain to himself why.
Now, now Billie Joe was blushing, his face pinker than the fading finger outlines on his inner forearm, embarrassed almost to the point of humiliation by the way his body had jerked when Lars had slapped him; by the rock solid erection this weirdness had produced. He saw the drummer's smile die when his field of vision encountered Adrienne, and his subsequent remarks and flight made Billie want to growl in frustration. Hadn't Lars even heard what she'd said?
The pressure to say something, anything, in the void left by his lover's swift departure eased when Jakob's head nodded forward and Adie laughed. As usual, their youngest son wasn't doing anything halfway - when he finally got tired, it was like his batteries simply ran out. "Sleepy, little man? Why don't we get ready for bed then, hmm?"
His chin set stubbornly and Billie offered a brief prayer to the Powers That Be that he would only be saddled with one version of 'God's revenge'. Though Jake had a few years to go yet (though he'd thought he'd have more time than this before hormones owned Joey, too), he didn't think he'd be able to handle two moody, mouthy, gloom-and-doom teenagers in the house at the same time without killing one of them. Or possibly himself. "But I wanted ice cream."
Adrienne chuffed him lightly under the chin. "How about we get Daddy up in the morning and he can make waffles for us, and you can have a little bit of ice cream with your waffles? How does that sound?"
"Okay," he agreed. Big, dark eyes turned to Billie. "Can I have a song?"
He hesitated only a second before nodding, feeling a little like he was the teenager and had just been told to go write on the blackboard while he was trying to hide the tent in his pants. But Billie wasn't a teenager, no matter how much he felt like one some days - and when he had been, he most likely would have told the teacher to fuck off, anyway. Besides, there were few things he loved more than singing a lullaby to his children. Joey had already outgrown it; Jake would soon enough. He rounded the table and lifted his son into his arms, surprised when Kirk stood, too.
"I'm just gonna…" The guitarist finished his sentence with a wave in the general direction of the bathroom, and Billie smiled.
"Thanks. I mean, just…yeah, thanks," he stumbled. Kirk simply smiled and left the room.
His wife wrapped her arms around both him and Jake, kissing the boy's forehead and then capturing Billie's mouth for a more serious kind of kiss. "I love you," she murmured when she drew back.
He rubbed his nose against her cheek with a sigh. "And I love you. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
Adie ran gentle fingers through his hair. "I'm going to make coffee and bring it into the living room, okay? I don't think anyone else is up for dessert either."
He agreed and carried his drowsy son upstairs, getting him ready and getting through all of two verses before Jake was sound asleep. Billie sat for a few minutes longer, arousal still buzzing through him accompanied by a slew of other emotions, contemplating how it was possible to feel basically happy overall and yet so absolutely and completely fucked up at the same time.
( to chapter 7)
Don't forget to leave some love for looking_spiffy, too!