Glædig Jul, Chapter Three
Title: Glædig Jul (3 of 3)
Authors: tasyfa and looking_spiffy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong/Lars Ulrich
Disclaimer: Purely fictional.
Summary: 'Motherfuckforhelvede I'm gonna do it.' Christmas time, mistletoe and wine - and lube, and barstools, and rice pudding… Billie and Lars are spending their first Christmas together as a couple, time divided between their respective families, and so far it's running surprisingly smoothly. That is, until they find a gift on Lars's doorstep that could push their relationship to a whole new level or derail them completely…
Notes: The final part of the Wayward Saints saga. All previous parts can be found here or here. Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone and everyone who came along for the ride with this one, regardless of whether you commented or not. As long as you enjoyed it - hell, even if you were repulsed by it but were curious enough to check it out - we're grateful. We started writing this whole thing in April '06. Here, in June '07, it's time to say goodnight to the heavy metal tub-thumper and prettyboy pop-punk ringmaster. :)
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Bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…
Lars grunted, frown creasing his brow as he flexed his toes and wondered what the noise was. Fuck, he'd only just shut his eyes and now there was some fuckin'-oh.
Prising himself carefully out of the stirring Billie's grasp - the two of them had scarcely moved in the intervening hours, unusual for Lars - the drummer reached across and shut off the alarm before the radio could kick in. He squinted at the time, grumbled wordlessly under his breath about it and slotted himself back in exactly the same position as before, arm thrown over Billie's torso and hand tucked underneath. He gave a small sigh and nuzzled against a pale neck, body and mind slowly waking up.
Of course he wanted Billie to stay, of course he did, especially after the soul shaking events of last night. But that couldn't happen, they both knew that, and it had been the arrangement from the beginning, before either of them knew what would transpire in this bed. He acknowledged the little bite of sadness and now instinctive and undisguised need for closeness that appeared the moment he was conscious. But he wouldn't make mention of it; it wouldn't be fair to either of them.
Instead, he reached between the two of them to pull free his dog tag, thumb rubbing over the engraved letters as he kissed Billie's throat, voice emerging in a rough mumble. "Want me to make you a coffee?"
"I will eat the cookies," Billie muttered peevishly, brow furrowing at the amused snort that followed his statement. It didn't go with the vague scenario playing in his brain and his eyelashes fluttered open. He looked down to see raised eyebrows and a grin.
"Fuck off, you're no better," he groaned. "C'mere." He hauled his lover up farther on his body until he could reach a smiling mouth and kiss it in blissful denial of the fact that neither of them smelled or tasted particularly wonderful. "Coffee, huh? Yeah. No. No, better not, actually, much as I'd love one. I gotta be able to sleep after I unload the entire fucking closet under the tree."
Billie captured another kiss, completely unmindful of his roving hands in his half-aware state. "Y'still coming for dinner, or just dessert, dude? You'll get to see 'least a dozen American clichés in action. Mind bringing my car? M'liable to crash if I drive now. Don't need 'nother DUI either."
Even as his mind slowly chugged into wakefulness, it turned forward, and partially in other directions. But his body clung to the closeness and Lars's half of his heart was always oriented this way.
Sleep-clumsy fingers brushed hair out of green eyes and Billie smiled mischievously. "I wanna see your face when you open your present, Uli. Let's do presents now."
"Okay, okay, but my face might not be such a good sight if you poke me in the fuckin' eye, so cut it out," Lars replied with a grin and a chuckle, catching Billie's wayward hand before it inadvertently did damage. He skritched his head as he frowned in thought at the daddy duties lined up later that day. "Um, I don't know how long it's gonna take me to do the Christmas and cab service thing - I've gotta go back to my dad's, do our presents there, have breakfast, take the kids to Skylar's and stick around there for a bit, because I don't really wanna cut and run." He paused for a couple of swift kisses. "Then I'll swing back here, change cars and head on over. What I'm saying is, I'll definitely be there at some point, just don't go out of your way and make special arrangements. If it's cool, I can bring over some grod, or at least get you the recipe. You can't ever have too much fuckin' food at Christmas, y'know?"
Drawn to those full lips again, he lowered his head and claimed them in an indulgent kiss, a pleasant, dull burn settling in his stomach. It also reminded him of another sensation elsewhere in his body, one that he most definitely wanted Billie to know about. Once he broke away, he grasped one of Billie's roaming hands and slipped its palm around to the small of his back as he arched against his lover.
"You should probably know I'm kinda sore," he murmured. A beat, and a wide grin bloomed over his face. Then, a little softer, "Been wanting to feel that for a while now."
One more kiss, and Lars pulled himself up, groaning and stretching. "Alright, did I hear something about presents?"
He slid out of Billie's arms and out of the bed, instructing the younger man to stay put while he went and fetched the gifts from downstairs, along with a glass of juice for each of them. Once he reached the door, he shot a haughty look over his shoulder.
"Dreaming about cookies instead of me? I'm offended."
Billie chuckled at the dramatic exit, warmth heavy in his body at the gradual return of Lars's usual surfeit of attitude. That quiet admission held its own warmth, too. The time for second thoughts had long since passed, even if he'd had any, but it was good to hear confirmation that it hadn't been as spontaneous a decision as it had seemed.
He propped himself up against the headboard, using the pillow as padding. One hand idly picked at the dried residue on his stomach. He'd need to shower when he got home and reluctance accompanied the thought. Not so much because he enjoyed the itchy tightness, but because it wasn't his: Billie had gone to sleep filthy rather a lot of times in the decades that he'd been fucking men but this was the first time in years that the film over his skin hadn't originated from his own body.
It'd been nearly a year since the last time Lars had bottomed; it was a lot longer ago that Billie had last topped. He hadn't even known Lars as more than a media figure then. Mike had been wilfully oblivious still that Billie had other bedpartners. And for all the work they'd done to repair their relationship after that first night Billie had spent with Lars, Mike had never again consented to switch. Indeed, his discomfort with it had been growing for a long time and it had already been rare by then; it was one of the many reasons Billie had continued to seek out other men after the initial flush of experimentation. He'd accepted the decree because, as the bassist's reasoning had gone, he had Adrienne for 'that sort of thing'. But what his best friend had not truly grasped was that they were two different situations and two very different acts for all the surface similarities.
His fingers brushed over the marked skin on his back, remembering the long-gone scratches that had provided the framework for these scars - the complementary nature of teeth and nails. With that one savage act Lars had demonstrated a greater instinctive understanding of Billie's duality than Mike had ever comprehended no matter how he'd tried to explain it.
That same bright grin of earlier found his mouth when Lars re-entered the room with an armful of Christmas paper and two juice boxes, straws poking out at a jaunty angle. Billie Joe couldn't help but laugh.
"I wasn't planning to spill any, you know."
"What, this not good enough for you? You conquer the fuckin' world with a tune or two and a lick of eyeliner, and now juice boxes are beneath you?" Lars retorted, outrage painted garishly all over his face. "We're out of regular juice, if you didn't guess."
The drummer set the gifts down in the middle of the bed and handed Billie the juices, then went over to the window, throwing open the curtains to let moonlight and lamplight stream through. Crawling in an ungainly fashion back onto the bed, he settled himself sidelong in Billie's lap, ignoring his slightly incredulous smirk at the position and accepting his drink. He sipped some through a bright orange straw in a perfectly serious fashion, and pulled the glinting stack of gifts towards them - three of them in total, Lars's gifts having been split into two separate packages.
This wasn't the first time he'd received a present from Billie Joe; wasn't even the first time in recent days. Having a birthday right after Christmas could have its disadvantages, especially as a child, but there were ways around it. Billie had asked that they celebrate it early this year, away from the hecticness of the holiday season, and Lars had emphatically agreed. When Myles and Layne had gotten wind of the arrangement, they'd gotten in on it, too - Lars had woken up on the designated day to his kids' grinning faces and their perhaps hasty, definitely messy attempt at breakfast in bed. He'd gone to sleep utterly spent, thanks to a raven-haired ringmaster giving him what the Dane could only describe as a lap dance without the hands-off rule, followed by a blowjob that practically blew his head off. Oh, and a copy of the mix tape that had been playing in the background during the performance.
This time, it was about a present exchange, the opportunity to see the delight in the other man and then experience it himself. But as clichéd and sappy as it was, and though he was utterly intrigued by the present waiting for him, he couldn't help but feel like he'd already gotten the gift he'd wanted.
Sipping his juice again, Lars picked up the first package and handed it to Billie. "This one first," he said with a smile.
Opening a gift with a man in his lap proved to be awkward but Billie Joe managed it with all the finesse of a five-year-old, bits of shiny paper flying everywhere to the sound of Lars chuckling. He had a moment for his eyebrows to shoot up at the glimpse of red fur and wonder if it was some kind of weird sex toy, and then the wrapping was all gone and he stared.
It was a teddy bear. Black eyes winked at him from a cheery crimson face over a chubby little body, maybe the length of his forearm from head to padded back paws.
"Dude…it's a bear." Billie didn't even notice his boyfriend's reaction to that absurd comment as the fake glitter of silvered plastic caught his eye and he brought the plush toy to his face. A tiny dog tag hung around its neck and printed on the tag in neat black lettering was, 'ULI'.
An incredulous grin found its way to the frontman's mouth and he laughed. "This is you? With the tag and everything? This is supposed to be you," he answered his own question. He poked the round belly and giggled. "Fuck, it's cute. It can go right on the desk in my studio." He leaned down and kissed Lars, slow and warm. Billie had certainly given stuffed animals as gifts before but he couldn't recall having received one since he'd been little and the silly sappiness of it delighted him. He had a feeling that every time he saw it sitting there, it would make him smile.
His grin widened as he sat back up and regarded Lars's little smirk. "Thank you. Do I get to open my other one now?" At the nod, Billie reached for it, depositing the bear in the drummer's hands while he tore open the second bright package.
The teddy bear sat hooked in Lars's arm and watched the proceedings, his furless counterpart doing the same while sipping on his juice with a sparkle in green eyes. Okay, so it was a goofy idea, and one that he himself might have turned his nose up at fifteen years ago, but Billie's evident glee at the bear made it worth it. The fact that it would take pride of place in the younger man's personal workspace was even better.
"M'not sure how much you're gonna need these after the things I heard from you last night," Lars said with a raised eyebrow as holographic green paper fell away. Billie held in his hands two books: a Danish phrasebook and a thick Danish-to-English dictionary. "You might have gotten quite a head start. But don't worry, it's no big deal, no pressure or anything if you haven't. These are just…here if you want 'em." A pause to take in Billie's decidedly confused-but-trying-not-to-look-it expression, and Lars elaborated. "Okay, I'll cop to it, these two aren't really your gifts. The real thing sorta hasn't been bought yet, because I wanted to talk to you about it first." His eyes fell to the books in Billie's hands. "About there. I wanna take you to Denmark, but not for some nostalgic horseshit trip. I wanna take you there to meet friends, and hopefully over the course of maybe a week have the most debauched, drunken, fucked up time we can. A let loose fucking odyssey of, of I don't fucking know what." He grinned, eyes wide with animated enthusiasm. "I wanna fuck in strange places, I wanna wake up in the middle of Parken Stadium in Copenhagen not remembering the night before, I wanna crash parties and drink 'til dawn - I wanna take you on a lost week. What happens in Denmark stays in Denmark."
Lars took a breath. "So, y'know. Learning the Danish for 'vodka' might be handy." He swiped his tongue along his top lip, just the barest hint of trepidation leaking into his voice as he continued, "It's just vodka, if you were wondering. How about it?"
The books were heavy in Billie's hands - weighty - as he regarded Lars with wide eyes. "I-I only learned - I only asked about a couple of things when I got the engraving translated. You've already heard…I didn't think to ask about anything like 'Merry Christmas', you know, it was back in the fucking summer."
He took a deep breath, feeling as though he'd been walloped by a surprise two-by-four. "Denmark. That's," he paused, knowledge slicing through him. His verbal stumbling gave way to a hint of soft wonder when he realised. He wants to take me home.
Relief flooded green eyes as Billie responded, "Yeah, of course I wanna go. I don't know when yet but we can figure that out after the holidays." He placed the books beside him on the bed and trailed his fingers over full lips that curved to match his. "It sounds like a fucking lot of fun, Uli. I can't promise anything approaching fluency, but I should at least learn how to ask where the fucking bathroom is if I'm gonna be drinking that much vodka."
He pressed a light kiss to that smile and tugged the last package closer, handing it to his boyfriend as Lars sat up and proceeded to demolish the glittering bow as he shredded the snowflake paper and drew a bottle of wine from the wooden box.
Only one side held a label: a peaceful vineyard scene over which presided a 'sun' that was the curving, gold-lit edge of a cymbal with gothic black writing nestled in its glow. Den Eneste Winery.
"There's this place in the valley where you can buy, like, a vine, and then every year they'll make one bottle of wine from those grapes and ship it to you. There's some, you know, papers in the box, too, the deed and that." Billie watched Lars carefully, not really seeing a reaction beyond shock. He gave a lopsided smile; obviously they'd both gone at this gift-giving thing all-out. Though he typically did that, anyway: after growing up with so little, there were few ordinary pleasures Billie Joe enjoyed more than giving a well-matched present to someone he cared about. Even if that happened to be something slightly less tangible, like Lars's birthday striptease had been. He'd been practising that since that damn comment about maybe getting him a stripper's pole to go with the leopard print thong.
Billie smiled at the memory and turned his attention back to Christmas. "I told them what kind of stuff you normally drink and they recommended this Chardonnay. Um, the labels, they came in a package of six so Adie printed them all and I gave them to the winery. I'm fucking useless at Photo-whatever the hell, so I just told her what name I wanted on it and she created the design."
He frowned at the glass bottle. "I hope it's drinkable. The sample they gave me tasted fine but I guess the wine quality will sorta depend on how your vine does every year."
The shock on Lars's face began to give way, his own lopsided smile threatening to make an appearance as he skated fingertips over the label, over the cymbal and lettering. "Wow," he offered at first. Then, with a more definite grin, "Holy fuck!" On a third attempt and after a brief glance over the accompanying papers, he managed something rather more verbose. "My wine. Well, fuck, me wine, with the cymbal and, and den eneste and you said it was a Chardonnay, right? They recommended it? I knew they could do that, give you your own fuckin' vine and everything, I didn't think - Den Eneste Winery has a nice ring, a nice sound to it, huh? They could market it - no, fuck, we could market it, y'know, The One Winery, it'd be cool, like a-a joint venture between - no, wait, I don't wanna do that. This is me wine, not fucking," he paused for breath and to collect his scattering thoughts. His hand unconsciously went to his dog tag, tugging on it lightly. "Den Eneste."
His hand passed over the label again. "You, um, you said that Adrienne did the design?" At Billie's nod, Lars's smile became wider. "That's really cool."
This wasn't just a gift from Billie, then. Adie had added her own element to the personalised bottle in, in Lars's mind, a further endorsement of sorts as well as simply doing what her husband could not. It was a thought that warmed him. He would be sure to thank Adrienne later today.
"This is probably the most valuable bottle of alcohol I've ever had." He waved it aloft. "Special occasions. Special you and me occasions. So, um, hopefully it tastes good." An almost giddy laugh bubbled up, and he leaned close, dropping kisses and nuzzles along Billie's neck. "Doesn't matter even if it doesn't. S'awesome. Thank you," he mumbled into warm skin.
Billie laughed openly at the wild progression of ideas, settling into a wide smile under scattered kisses. He reclaimed the bottle and placed it and the other gifts on the floor then stretched out beside Lars and fitted his body to the older man's with a sigh, initiating a warm, languorous kiss with awareness of time stitching a thread of bittersweet through his happiness. He needed to leave in a few more minutes.
Ignoring that reality for just a little longer, Billie framed Lars's face and stared into green. "You got plans for New Year's yet?" A puzzled headshake answered the question and this time, Billie's lips formed a naughty smirk. "You do now."
His mouth travelled along the drummer's neck to suck on a pierced ear lobe and murmur, "Adie's taking the boys to her parents' on the twenty-ninth for a few days. I'm staying here. All I gotta do is feed the cat and otherwise I'm yours." He licked all around the earrings and then slipped his tongue into Lars's ear, wiggling it suggestively; voice dropping to a husky purr. "I wanna learn what it takes to make you really squirm."
He grinned at the indrawn breath and raised his head, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "So what do you say? Wanna ring in the new year with our own brand of fireworks?"
A wide grin bloomed on Lars's face, an anticipatory brightness appearing in his eyes. "I do," he replied emphatically. Then, softer, something akin to reverence in his tone as he bent his head to speak against Billie's lips. "Fuck, I really do."
His turn to initiate a kiss, the slow slide and twine of tongues, and his palm accompanied the motion with a long stroke along a tattooed torso. It ended with a lick of something a little darker as his nails scored pink lines over his lover's chest. "And if I'm getting you to myself for a couple days, I don't think it'd be very fair if I didn't reciprocate in kind, huh?" He grinned wide again, nipping at a full bottom lip.
Through this, though, it felt as if the clock were looming over his shoulder, and it was coming to a time where he could no longer ignore it. He rocked his head over and checked the minutes, letting out a small sigh as he returned his gaze to Billie. His smile had changed a little, more lopsided, a shade of longing for a little more, a while longer.
"Alright, better get you moving before I get clingy," he murmured, feeling something twist in him as he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. "Plus it is far too fucking early for me to be awake. I don't thank you for that at all." He stood and threw on his bathrobe and balled up most of the wrapping paper scattered over the covers. The rest he would leave until tomorrow morning - well, this morning. Forhelvede, it really was far too fucking early.
"The Denmark thing? I," he paused, hands slipping into his robe pockets. "I'm really happy you wanna go. It's gonna be fun." A smile crossed his lips again; and this one was elated.
"It is," Billie agreed. His skin throbbed where the drummer's fingernails had dug in, lines already fading to nothing, and it provoked his awareness that he was leaving this house without a mark on him. That might be another first. Lars had been so consumed by his nervousness, by a level of openness he was no longer accustomed to and had never truly shown to Billie before, that he had been almost passive in bed - very much like the virgin he wasn't. And like Billie would continue to treat him in this, for at least a little while. Until the last bit of skittishness faded and his boyfriend grew comfortable with a fuller give-and-take between them. He looked forward to that, but he also anticipated the journey - and how long it might take, interspersed between the times when he was the one stretched beneath his lover in mindless pleasure. The shift in their sexual status quo hadn't changed Billie's enjoyment of that at all; it had simply expanded and equalised the playing field. Given them yet more options with which to tease and then satisfy each other.
Hazels took in the excited smile and the bruised collarbone - the dark smudge exposed when hands had shoved deep into the wine-coloured pockets - and something swelled in Billie Joe's chest. "C'mere."
He didn't give the Dane time to move or respond; he just strode over and wrapped tattooed arms around the terry-cloth clad figure, ignoring the oof as he squeezed hard and planted a wet kiss to the side of Lars's neck.
"Jeg elsker dig, Uli. If you come in time for dinner I'll set you a place then, and if you come later, we'll probably still be able to feed you. About twelve times over or so." A giggle escaped. "Long's you promise to stay 'til after midnight at least, it doesn't matter when you get there." He wanted to be able to wish Lars a 'Happy Birthday' at the very beginning of his day, despite having given him his birthday gift early because he'd known they wouldn't have the kind of time his little show had required over Christmas. Well, and he might have a small, slightly more conventional offering waiting, too.
Billie chuckled, murmuring into the soft bathrobe, "Definitely in favour of fairness." He gave the nearest bit of bare skin another kiss and then disentangled from the embrace with a quiet sigh and reached for his clothes. "Would you call me a cab, please?"
Lars took a bow, sardonic smirk tweaking his lips. "Yes, sir."
Turning on his heel, the drummer exited the bedroom to fetch his cell phone from his jacket downstairs, the number of the cab company escaping him for the moment. That smirk had faded back into a smile that he knew would take residence on his face for a good couple of days - the fresh memory of their boundary-breaking night, coupled with the fact that, duh, it was Christmas, and tomorrow it'd be his birthday. Less than a week after that, it'd be New Year's, and all the wicked promise that night now held. This was shaping up to be one of the best holiday seasons in recent memory.
Once the call had been made, he deposited the crumpled wrapping paper in the trash and returned to the living room. Green eyes settled on the open box on the coffee table, the gift from James. He regarded it silently for a few moments. Not an apology. Not a fuck you. He approached the table and picked up the leather seat, looking it over. Just a cool present from a bandmate and a best friend. It was placed back into the brown box, which he picked up and took out to the hall, setting it down by the front door. He'd remember to take it to HQ if he kept almost falling over the thing each time he left the house.
Cool though it was, he realised that he'd pretty much forgotten about it in the wake of last night's events. Not only thanks to Billie's gift, which had hit him far deeper and in a different way to James's, but pretty much from entering the bedroom with the knowledge that he was going to open to his lover completely for the first time. That was a good thing - if the gift had been left three or so months before, their night might have been tainted by a distracted and worried Dane. Now the thought settled into Lars's mind that that kind of thing would probably never happen again. James no longer held that kind of power over him. As he'd thought last night, shaking like a leaf and emotional as hell, this little Uli was now someone else's responsibility. And Jesus Christ but that felt wonderful.
Lars leaned against the doorframe of the living room, folding his arms as he listened to the silence. Absently he skritched at his neck, giving a perfunctory 'ow' as his nails caught the bruise at his collarbone. He tilted his head awkwardly, attempting to see the mark and failing. The mirror in the living room remedied this, and he grazed fingertips over the darkened patch of skin as he stared at its reflection. He'd received such marks courtesy of Billie's mouth before now; this one was vastly different. This one made his heart stutter.
He was disturbed by the sound of the stairs creaking, and he turned to see a fully dressed Billie at the foot of them. He smiled.
"Cab's gonna be a couple minutes."
His heart gave a hard thump, ached a little, not at the fact Billie was leaving but just at everything that had happened between them, all of it, from that seedy bar to this moment, and the older man went to his lover and clasped his hand. His partner.
"I love you," he murmured, and tilted his head, wordlessly asking for a kiss.
Billie had seen Lars inspecting the bruise in the mirror and he passed a hand over it, thumb digging in slightly, before his fingers slipped into mussed hair and his mouth met his lover's in a searing kiss that was all too brief. He traced the stubborn jawline as he withdrew and tapped the tip of the Dane's nose, grin emerging.
"See you in a few hours, dude. Here, car keys." The metal jangled as Billie dropped the key ring into a callused palm and darted forward for another kiss.
The blast of a car horn signalled the waiting cab and he made for the door, not wanting to wake up the entire neighbourhood. He called back, "Merry Christmas!" and then, laughing, flipped Lars the finger at his smug reply in Danish just as he closed the door behind Billie Joe. Asshole, always needing to have the last word.
He gazed out the car window as it wound through the silent streets. This one night, most people left their Christmas lights on overnight and everywhere they passed was lit up in festive colours like an explosion of hope all over the East Bay.
The twinkling beauty of the residential areas reminded him that almost a year ago, he'd returned home with a piece of gauze taped to his chest and Adie had told him that she knew better than anyone how Billie could carry a torch for someone in their absence. He supposed that Lars had grown into a similar understanding since then; if he had not - if he had not felt secure in Billie's feelings - tonight would not have happened.
Juggling everything was hard sometimes but in many ways, his and Lars's relationship resembled a lot of others where both people had children from prior partners - and put those children ahead of pretty much the rest of the world. Where the comparison faltered was with his marriage. With Adrienne, whose own heart was big enough to accept and, indeed, encourage him to be who he needed to be. That capacity of his she'd spoken of, how Billie could not only fall just like that but hang on to the feeling, keep it alive with a bare minimum of assistance from the object of his affection: his life hinged on that. His kids, both of his partners, his best friends and bandmates, his very career; they all intertwined and he somehow made it work because - even in the hardest times when it seemed like the world was falling apart - not a moment went by when he didn't adore every single piece of the equation that defined him.
As the car began to climb into the hills of Oakland, Billie turned in the seat to look out the back window at the lights spread out below. His eyes went to the corner of the Bay where Lars's house sat and a smile grew as he thought that the drummer would be getting dressed now, muttering to himself the whole time about how fucking early it was, and probably cussing Billie out for it too. The books were a solid presence on the seat beside him; a reminder of who his boyfriend was and a promise for their future.
His smile didn't waver as he paid the driver and climbed the steps to his front door, anticipating a sleepy wife to help stack presents and stuff stockings, and a glass of room temperature milk to choke down with a plate of cookies. Excited young voices in a few more hours, even if one of them tried to hide it. Food, family and friends all day, and in the evening, Lars, too. Everyone he loved most in easy reach for a little while.
Billie Joe Armstrong was a lucky man and he knew it. He didn't have much in the way of book-learning, and he'd hardly classify himself as an intellectual bright light, but he had a lot of common sense and furthermore, he was a man who learned from the mistakes that he made. His marriage had faltered in the past because he had come to take Adrienne for granted; he didn't now. He took nothing for granted anymore. That was what had prompted him to make sure Lars was ready last night before taking the reins he'd finally been handed with a deep joy.
As he laid the Danish books and the bear under the Christmas tree, he thought that maybe that was part of why both Lars and Adie accepted this arrangement, because they knew that despite the fact that he had to divide his time between them, he loved each of them wholeheartedly and made sure that they knew it.
"A teddy bear?" came the incredulous voice of his elder son and Billie whirled to see an amused smirk on Joey's face.
He crossed his arms, feeling defensive. "Yeah, what of it?"
The younger Armstrong strolled over and picked up Uli, grinning as he found the 'dog tag'. He shook his head. "Here I thought you were the King of Touchy-Feely, Dad."
"Shut up," Billie shot back reflexively and they shared a startled laugh at the adult, if immature, exchange. He moved to ruffle Joey's hair and tentatively hugged him, his chest tightening when it was allowed. "Couldn't sleep, huh? Want some hot chocolate or something?"
"Sure." The almost-teen stepped away and grabbed a few of the cookies sitting out, raising an eyebrow when Billie would have protested. "Oh please. Less that you have to eat."
Once the late-night snack had been consumed in contented silence, Billie ordered him back to bed amidst hushed protests and giggles from both of them. Halfway up the stairs, Joey stopped and glanced back, a more serious expression on his face. "Is… Is your boyfriend coming for dinner tonight?"
"Um, he might not make it in time for dinner but yeah, sometime," he answered, ignoring the punch of shock at hearing that particular description of Lars from his son in favour of being honest about the situation - and mentally planning a more specific discussion about it later in the week.
Joey looked thoughtful for a long moment and then nodded. "Cool."
He disappeared upstairs, leaving his father to sink down onto the couch back in the living room, overcome with more heightened emotion than he'd care to admit to another living being. He told himself that it was fatigue that made the lights on the tree shimmer and dance in his vision.
The portrait of his parents over the fireplace caught his attention, as it often did. Billie Joe stared at the painting for several minutes with blurry eyes, thinking of the night before and how Torben had welcomed him because he made Lars happy, and of the precocious acceptance his own son had just shown, and then he smiled.
"I've finally got my life together, Dad. I just wish you were here to see it."
No one replied to his whisper but it didn't matter as he got up and began to place brightly wrapped packages under the tree, secure and warm with the knowledge that he was loved exactly as he was.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And yes, folks, this really, really is the end of the ride this time. Our Saints have had their story told and even had their happy ending. :D We hope you've enjoyed reading this series as much as we've loved writing it. And we'll be back...sometime...with something else altogether. (You didn't think we'd mess with a winning team, did ya? ;-D )
Don't forget to leave some love for looking_spiffy.
Authors: tasyfa and looking_spiffy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong/Lars Ulrich
Disclaimer: Purely fictional.
Summary: 'Motherfuckforhelvede I'm gonna do it.' Christmas time, mistletoe and wine - and lube, and barstools, and rice pudding… Billie and Lars are spending their first Christmas together as a couple, time divided between their respective families, and so far it's running surprisingly smoothly. That is, until they find a gift on Lars's doorstep that could push their relationship to a whole new level or derail them completely…
Notes: The final part of the Wayward Saints saga. All previous parts can be found here or here. Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone and everyone who came along for the ride with this one, regardless of whether you commented or not. As long as you enjoyed it - hell, even if you were repulsed by it but were curious enough to check it out - we're grateful. We started writing this whole thing in April '06. Here, in June '07, it's time to say goodnight to the heavy metal tub-thumper and prettyboy pop-punk ringmaster. :)
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Bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…
Lars grunted, frown creasing his brow as he flexed his toes and wondered what the noise was. Fuck, he'd only just shut his eyes and now there was some fuckin'-oh.
Prising himself carefully out of the stirring Billie's grasp - the two of them had scarcely moved in the intervening hours, unusual for Lars - the drummer reached across and shut off the alarm before the radio could kick in. He squinted at the time, grumbled wordlessly under his breath about it and slotted himself back in exactly the same position as before, arm thrown over Billie's torso and hand tucked underneath. He gave a small sigh and nuzzled against a pale neck, body and mind slowly waking up.
Of course he wanted Billie to stay, of course he did, especially after the soul shaking events of last night. But that couldn't happen, they both knew that, and it had been the arrangement from the beginning, before either of them knew what would transpire in this bed. He acknowledged the little bite of sadness and now instinctive and undisguised need for closeness that appeared the moment he was conscious. But he wouldn't make mention of it; it wouldn't be fair to either of them.
Instead, he reached between the two of them to pull free his dog tag, thumb rubbing over the engraved letters as he kissed Billie's throat, voice emerging in a rough mumble. "Want me to make you a coffee?"
"I will eat the cookies," Billie muttered peevishly, brow furrowing at the amused snort that followed his statement. It didn't go with the vague scenario playing in his brain and his eyelashes fluttered open. He looked down to see raised eyebrows and a grin.
"Fuck off, you're no better," he groaned. "C'mere." He hauled his lover up farther on his body until he could reach a smiling mouth and kiss it in blissful denial of the fact that neither of them smelled or tasted particularly wonderful. "Coffee, huh? Yeah. No. No, better not, actually, much as I'd love one. I gotta be able to sleep after I unload the entire fucking closet under the tree."
Billie captured another kiss, completely unmindful of his roving hands in his half-aware state. "Y'still coming for dinner, or just dessert, dude? You'll get to see 'least a dozen American clichés in action. Mind bringing my car? M'liable to crash if I drive now. Don't need 'nother DUI either."
Even as his mind slowly chugged into wakefulness, it turned forward, and partially in other directions. But his body clung to the closeness and Lars's half of his heart was always oriented this way.
Sleep-clumsy fingers brushed hair out of green eyes and Billie smiled mischievously. "I wanna see your face when you open your present, Uli. Let's do presents now."
"Okay, okay, but my face might not be such a good sight if you poke me in the fuckin' eye, so cut it out," Lars replied with a grin and a chuckle, catching Billie's wayward hand before it inadvertently did damage. He skritched his head as he frowned in thought at the daddy duties lined up later that day. "Um, I don't know how long it's gonna take me to do the Christmas and cab service thing - I've gotta go back to my dad's, do our presents there, have breakfast, take the kids to Skylar's and stick around there for a bit, because I don't really wanna cut and run." He paused for a couple of swift kisses. "Then I'll swing back here, change cars and head on over. What I'm saying is, I'll definitely be there at some point, just don't go out of your way and make special arrangements. If it's cool, I can bring over some grod, or at least get you the recipe. You can't ever have too much fuckin' food at Christmas, y'know?"
Drawn to those full lips again, he lowered his head and claimed them in an indulgent kiss, a pleasant, dull burn settling in his stomach. It also reminded him of another sensation elsewhere in his body, one that he most definitely wanted Billie to know about. Once he broke away, he grasped one of Billie's roaming hands and slipped its palm around to the small of his back as he arched against his lover.
"You should probably know I'm kinda sore," he murmured. A beat, and a wide grin bloomed over his face. Then, a little softer, "Been wanting to feel that for a while now."
One more kiss, and Lars pulled himself up, groaning and stretching. "Alright, did I hear something about presents?"
He slid out of Billie's arms and out of the bed, instructing the younger man to stay put while he went and fetched the gifts from downstairs, along with a glass of juice for each of them. Once he reached the door, he shot a haughty look over his shoulder.
"Dreaming about cookies instead of me? I'm offended."
Billie chuckled at the dramatic exit, warmth heavy in his body at the gradual return of Lars's usual surfeit of attitude. That quiet admission held its own warmth, too. The time for second thoughts had long since passed, even if he'd had any, but it was good to hear confirmation that it hadn't been as spontaneous a decision as it had seemed.
He propped himself up against the headboard, using the pillow as padding. One hand idly picked at the dried residue on his stomach. He'd need to shower when he got home and reluctance accompanied the thought. Not so much because he enjoyed the itchy tightness, but because it wasn't his: Billie had gone to sleep filthy rather a lot of times in the decades that he'd been fucking men but this was the first time in years that the film over his skin hadn't originated from his own body.
It'd been nearly a year since the last time Lars had bottomed; it was a lot longer ago that Billie had last topped. He hadn't even known Lars as more than a media figure then. Mike had been wilfully oblivious still that Billie had other bedpartners. And for all the work they'd done to repair their relationship after that first night Billie had spent with Lars, Mike had never again consented to switch. Indeed, his discomfort with it had been growing for a long time and it had already been rare by then; it was one of the many reasons Billie had continued to seek out other men after the initial flush of experimentation. He'd accepted the decree because, as the bassist's reasoning had gone, he had Adrienne for 'that sort of thing'. But what his best friend had not truly grasped was that they were two different situations and two very different acts for all the surface similarities.
His fingers brushed over the marked skin on his back, remembering the long-gone scratches that had provided the framework for these scars - the complementary nature of teeth and nails. With that one savage act Lars had demonstrated a greater instinctive understanding of Billie's duality than Mike had ever comprehended no matter how he'd tried to explain it.
That same bright grin of earlier found his mouth when Lars re-entered the room with an armful of Christmas paper and two juice boxes, straws poking out at a jaunty angle. Billie Joe couldn't help but laugh.
"I wasn't planning to spill any, you know."
"What, this not good enough for you? You conquer the fuckin' world with a tune or two and a lick of eyeliner, and now juice boxes are beneath you?" Lars retorted, outrage painted garishly all over his face. "We're out of regular juice, if you didn't guess."
The drummer set the gifts down in the middle of the bed and handed Billie the juices, then went over to the window, throwing open the curtains to let moonlight and lamplight stream through. Crawling in an ungainly fashion back onto the bed, he settled himself sidelong in Billie's lap, ignoring his slightly incredulous smirk at the position and accepting his drink. He sipped some through a bright orange straw in a perfectly serious fashion, and pulled the glinting stack of gifts towards them - three of them in total, Lars's gifts having been split into two separate packages.
This wasn't the first time he'd received a present from Billie Joe; wasn't even the first time in recent days. Having a birthday right after Christmas could have its disadvantages, especially as a child, but there were ways around it. Billie had asked that they celebrate it early this year, away from the hecticness of the holiday season, and Lars had emphatically agreed. When Myles and Layne had gotten wind of the arrangement, they'd gotten in on it, too - Lars had woken up on the designated day to his kids' grinning faces and their perhaps hasty, definitely messy attempt at breakfast in bed. He'd gone to sleep utterly spent, thanks to a raven-haired ringmaster giving him what the Dane could only describe as a lap dance without the hands-off rule, followed by a blowjob that practically blew his head off. Oh, and a copy of the mix tape that had been playing in the background during the performance.
This time, it was about a present exchange, the opportunity to see the delight in the other man and then experience it himself. But as clichéd and sappy as it was, and though he was utterly intrigued by the present waiting for him, he couldn't help but feel like he'd already gotten the gift he'd wanted.
Sipping his juice again, Lars picked up the first package and handed it to Billie. "This one first," he said with a smile.
Opening a gift with a man in his lap proved to be awkward but Billie Joe managed it with all the finesse of a five-year-old, bits of shiny paper flying everywhere to the sound of Lars chuckling. He had a moment for his eyebrows to shoot up at the glimpse of red fur and wonder if it was some kind of weird sex toy, and then the wrapping was all gone and he stared.
It was a teddy bear. Black eyes winked at him from a cheery crimson face over a chubby little body, maybe the length of his forearm from head to padded back paws.
"Dude…it's a bear." Billie didn't even notice his boyfriend's reaction to that absurd comment as the fake glitter of silvered plastic caught his eye and he brought the plush toy to his face. A tiny dog tag hung around its neck and printed on the tag in neat black lettering was, 'ULI'.
An incredulous grin found its way to the frontman's mouth and he laughed. "This is you? With the tag and everything? This is supposed to be you," he answered his own question. He poked the round belly and giggled. "Fuck, it's cute. It can go right on the desk in my studio." He leaned down and kissed Lars, slow and warm. Billie had certainly given stuffed animals as gifts before but he couldn't recall having received one since he'd been little and the silly sappiness of it delighted him. He had a feeling that every time he saw it sitting there, it would make him smile.
His grin widened as he sat back up and regarded Lars's little smirk. "Thank you. Do I get to open my other one now?" At the nod, Billie reached for it, depositing the bear in the drummer's hands while he tore open the second bright package.
The teddy bear sat hooked in Lars's arm and watched the proceedings, his furless counterpart doing the same while sipping on his juice with a sparkle in green eyes. Okay, so it was a goofy idea, and one that he himself might have turned his nose up at fifteen years ago, but Billie's evident glee at the bear made it worth it. The fact that it would take pride of place in the younger man's personal workspace was even better.
"M'not sure how much you're gonna need these after the things I heard from you last night," Lars said with a raised eyebrow as holographic green paper fell away. Billie held in his hands two books: a Danish phrasebook and a thick Danish-to-English dictionary. "You might have gotten quite a head start. But don't worry, it's no big deal, no pressure or anything if you haven't. These are just…here if you want 'em." A pause to take in Billie's decidedly confused-but-trying-not-to-look-it expression, and Lars elaborated. "Okay, I'll cop to it, these two aren't really your gifts. The real thing sorta hasn't been bought yet, because I wanted to talk to you about it first." His eyes fell to the books in Billie's hands. "About there. I wanna take you to Denmark, but not for some nostalgic horseshit trip. I wanna take you there to meet friends, and hopefully over the course of maybe a week have the most debauched, drunken, fucked up time we can. A let loose fucking odyssey of, of I don't fucking know what." He grinned, eyes wide with animated enthusiasm. "I wanna fuck in strange places, I wanna wake up in the middle of Parken Stadium in Copenhagen not remembering the night before, I wanna crash parties and drink 'til dawn - I wanna take you on a lost week. What happens in Denmark stays in Denmark."
Lars took a breath. "So, y'know. Learning the Danish for 'vodka' might be handy." He swiped his tongue along his top lip, just the barest hint of trepidation leaking into his voice as he continued, "It's just vodka, if you were wondering. How about it?"
The books were heavy in Billie's hands - weighty - as he regarded Lars with wide eyes. "I-I only learned - I only asked about a couple of things when I got the engraving translated. You've already heard…I didn't think to ask about anything like 'Merry Christmas', you know, it was back in the fucking summer."
He took a deep breath, feeling as though he'd been walloped by a surprise two-by-four. "Denmark. That's," he paused, knowledge slicing through him. His verbal stumbling gave way to a hint of soft wonder when he realised. He wants to take me home.
Relief flooded green eyes as Billie responded, "Yeah, of course I wanna go. I don't know when yet but we can figure that out after the holidays." He placed the books beside him on the bed and trailed his fingers over full lips that curved to match his. "It sounds like a fucking lot of fun, Uli. I can't promise anything approaching fluency, but I should at least learn how to ask where the fucking bathroom is if I'm gonna be drinking that much vodka."
He pressed a light kiss to that smile and tugged the last package closer, handing it to his boyfriend as Lars sat up and proceeded to demolish the glittering bow as he shredded the snowflake paper and drew a bottle of wine from the wooden box.
Only one side held a label: a peaceful vineyard scene over which presided a 'sun' that was the curving, gold-lit edge of a cymbal with gothic black writing nestled in its glow. Den Eneste Winery.
"There's this place in the valley where you can buy, like, a vine, and then every year they'll make one bottle of wine from those grapes and ship it to you. There's some, you know, papers in the box, too, the deed and that." Billie watched Lars carefully, not really seeing a reaction beyond shock. He gave a lopsided smile; obviously they'd both gone at this gift-giving thing all-out. Though he typically did that, anyway: after growing up with so little, there were few ordinary pleasures Billie Joe enjoyed more than giving a well-matched present to someone he cared about. Even if that happened to be something slightly less tangible, like Lars's birthday striptease had been. He'd been practising that since that damn comment about maybe getting him a stripper's pole to go with the leopard print thong.
Billie smiled at the memory and turned his attention back to Christmas. "I told them what kind of stuff you normally drink and they recommended this Chardonnay. Um, the labels, they came in a package of six so Adie printed them all and I gave them to the winery. I'm fucking useless at Photo-whatever the hell, so I just told her what name I wanted on it and she created the design."
He frowned at the glass bottle. "I hope it's drinkable. The sample they gave me tasted fine but I guess the wine quality will sorta depend on how your vine does every year."
The shock on Lars's face began to give way, his own lopsided smile threatening to make an appearance as he skated fingertips over the label, over the cymbal and lettering. "Wow," he offered at first. Then, with a more definite grin, "Holy fuck!" On a third attempt and after a brief glance over the accompanying papers, he managed something rather more verbose. "My wine. Well, fuck, me wine, with the cymbal and, and den eneste and you said it was a Chardonnay, right? They recommended it? I knew they could do that, give you your own fuckin' vine and everything, I didn't think - Den Eneste Winery has a nice ring, a nice sound to it, huh? They could market it - no, fuck, we could market it, y'know, The One Winery, it'd be cool, like a-a joint venture between - no, wait, I don't wanna do that. This is me wine, not fucking," he paused for breath and to collect his scattering thoughts. His hand unconsciously went to his dog tag, tugging on it lightly. "Den Eneste."
His hand passed over the label again. "You, um, you said that Adrienne did the design?" At Billie's nod, Lars's smile became wider. "That's really cool."
This wasn't just a gift from Billie, then. Adie had added her own element to the personalised bottle in, in Lars's mind, a further endorsement of sorts as well as simply doing what her husband could not. It was a thought that warmed him. He would be sure to thank Adrienne later today.
"This is probably the most valuable bottle of alcohol I've ever had." He waved it aloft. "Special occasions. Special you and me occasions. So, um, hopefully it tastes good." An almost giddy laugh bubbled up, and he leaned close, dropping kisses and nuzzles along Billie's neck. "Doesn't matter even if it doesn't. S'awesome. Thank you," he mumbled into warm skin.
Billie laughed openly at the wild progression of ideas, settling into a wide smile under scattered kisses. He reclaimed the bottle and placed it and the other gifts on the floor then stretched out beside Lars and fitted his body to the older man's with a sigh, initiating a warm, languorous kiss with awareness of time stitching a thread of bittersweet through his happiness. He needed to leave in a few more minutes.
Ignoring that reality for just a little longer, Billie framed Lars's face and stared into green. "You got plans for New Year's yet?" A puzzled headshake answered the question and this time, Billie's lips formed a naughty smirk. "You do now."
His mouth travelled along the drummer's neck to suck on a pierced ear lobe and murmur, "Adie's taking the boys to her parents' on the twenty-ninth for a few days. I'm staying here. All I gotta do is feed the cat and otherwise I'm yours." He licked all around the earrings and then slipped his tongue into Lars's ear, wiggling it suggestively; voice dropping to a husky purr. "I wanna learn what it takes to make you really squirm."
He grinned at the indrawn breath and raised his head, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "So what do you say? Wanna ring in the new year with our own brand of fireworks?"
A wide grin bloomed on Lars's face, an anticipatory brightness appearing in his eyes. "I do," he replied emphatically. Then, softer, something akin to reverence in his tone as he bent his head to speak against Billie's lips. "Fuck, I really do."
His turn to initiate a kiss, the slow slide and twine of tongues, and his palm accompanied the motion with a long stroke along a tattooed torso. It ended with a lick of something a little darker as his nails scored pink lines over his lover's chest. "And if I'm getting you to myself for a couple days, I don't think it'd be very fair if I didn't reciprocate in kind, huh?" He grinned wide again, nipping at a full bottom lip.
Through this, though, it felt as if the clock were looming over his shoulder, and it was coming to a time where he could no longer ignore it. He rocked his head over and checked the minutes, letting out a small sigh as he returned his gaze to Billie. His smile had changed a little, more lopsided, a shade of longing for a little more, a while longer.
"Alright, better get you moving before I get clingy," he murmured, feeling something twist in him as he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. "Plus it is far too fucking early for me to be awake. I don't thank you for that at all." He stood and threw on his bathrobe and balled up most of the wrapping paper scattered over the covers. The rest he would leave until tomorrow morning - well, this morning. Forhelvede, it really was far too fucking early.
"The Denmark thing? I," he paused, hands slipping into his robe pockets. "I'm really happy you wanna go. It's gonna be fun." A smile crossed his lips again; and this one was elated.
"It is," Billie agreed. His skin throbbed where the drummer's fingernails had dug in, lines already fading to nothing, and it provoked his awareness that he was leaving this house without a mark on him. That might be another first. Lars had been so consumed by his nervousness, by a level of openness he was no longer accustomed to and had never truly shown to Billie before, that he had been almost passive in bed - very much like the virgin he wasn't. And like Billie would continue to treat him in this, for at least a little while. Until the last bit of skittishness faded and his boyfriend grew comfortable with a fuller give-and-take between them. He looked forward to that, but he also anticipated the journey - and how long it might take, interspersed between the times when he was the one stretched beneath his lover in mindless pleasure. The shift in their sexual status quo hadn't changed Billie's enjoyment of that at all; it had simply expanded and equalised the playing field. Given them yet more options with which to tease and then satisfy each other.
Hazels took in the excited smile and the bruised collarbone - the dark smudge exposed when hands had shoved deep into the wine-coloured pockets - and something swelled in Billie Joe's chest. "C'mere."
He didn't give the Dane time to move or respond; he just strode over and wrapped tattooed arms around the terry-cloth clad figure, ignoring the oof as he squeezed hard and planted a wet kiss to the side of Lars's neck.
"Jeg elsker dig, Uli. If you come in time for dinner I'll set you a place then, and if you come later, we'll probably still be able to feed you. About twelve times over or so." A giggle escaped. "Long's you promise to stay 'til after midnight at least, it doesn't matter when you get there." He wanted to be able to wish Lars a 'Happy Birthday' at the very beginning of his day, despite having given him his birthday gift early because he'd known they wouldn't have the kind of time his little show had required over Christmas. Well, and he might have a small, slightly more conventional offering waiting, too.
Billie chuckled, murmuring into the soft bathrobe, "Definitely in favour of fairness." He gave the nearest bit of bare skin another kiss and then disentangled from the embrace with a quiet sigh and reached for his clothes. "Would you call me a cab, please?"
Lars took a bow, sardonic smirk tweaking his lips. "Yes, sir."
Turning on his heel, the drummer exited the bedroom to fetch his cell phone from his jacket downstairs, the number of the cab company escaping him for the moment. That smirk had faded back into a smile that he knew would take residence on his face for a good couple of days - the fresh memory of their boundary-breaking night, coupled with the fact that, duh, it was Christmas, and tomorrow it'd be his birthday. Less than a week after that, it'd be New Year's, and all the wicked promise that night now held. This was shaping up to be one of the best holiday seasons in recent memory.
Once the call had been made, he deposited the crumpled wrapping paper in the trash and returned to the living room. Green eyes settled on the open box on the coffee table, the gift from James. He regarded it silently for a few moments. Not an apology. Not a fuck you. He approached the table and picked up the leather seat, looking it over. Just a cool present from a bandmate and a best friend. It was placed back into the brown box, which he picked up and took out to the hall, setting it down by the front door. He'd remember to take it to HQ if he kept almost falling over the thing each time he left the house.
Cool though it was, he realised that he'd pretty much forgotten about it in the wake of last night's events. Not only thanks to Billie's gift, which had hit him far deeper and in a different way to James's, but pretty much from entering the bedroom with the knowledge that he was going to open to his lover completely for the first time. That was a good thing - if the gift had been left three or so months before, their night might have been tainted by a distracted and worried Dane. Now the thought settled into Lars's mind that that kind of thing would probably never happen again. James no longer held that kind of power over him. As he'd thought last night, shaking like a leaf and emotional as hell, this little Uli was now someone else's responsibility. And Jesus Christ but that felt wonderful.
Lars leaned against the doorframe of the living room, folding his arms as he listened to the silence. Absently he skritched at his neck, giving a perfunctory 'ow' as his nails caught the bruise at his collarbone. He tilted his head awkwardly, attempting to see the mark and failing. The mirror in the living room remedied this, and he grazed fingertips over the darkened patch of skin as he stared at its reflection. He'd received such marks courtesy of Billie's mouth before now; this one was vastly different. This one made his heart stutter.
He was disturbed by the sound of the stairs creaking, and he turned to see a fully dressed Billie at the foot of them. He smiled.
"Cab's gonna be a couple minutes."
His heart gave a hard thump, ached a little, not at the fact Billie was leaving but just at everything that had happened between them, all of it, from that seedy bar to this moment, and the older man went to his lover and clasped his hand. His partner.
"I love you," he murmured, and tilted his head, wordlessly asking for a kiss.
Billie had seen Lars inspecting the bruise in the mirror and he passed a hand over it, thumb digging in slightly, before his fingers slipped into mussed hair and his mouth met his lover's in a searing kiss that was all too brief. He traced the stubborn jawline as he withdrew and tapped the tip of the Dane's nose, grin emerging.
"See you in a few hours, dude. Here, car keys." The metal jangled as Billie dropped the key ring into a callused palm and darted forward for another kiss.
The blast of a car horn signalled the waiting cab and he made for the door, not wanting to wake up the entire neighbourhood. He called back, "Merry Christmas!" and then, laughing, flipped Lars the finger at his smug reply in Danish just as he closed the door behind Billie Joe. Asshole, always needing to have the last word.
He gazed out the car window as it wound through the silent streets. This one night, most people left their Christmas lights on overnight and everywhere they passed was lit up in festive colours like an explosion of hope all over the East Bay.
The twinkling beauty of the residential areas reminded him that almost a year ago, he'd returned home with a piece of gauze taped to his chest and Adie had told him that she knew better than anyone how Billie could carry a torch for someone in their absence. He supposed that Lars had grown into a similar understanding since then; if he had not - if he had not felt secure in Billie's feelings - tonight would not have happened.
Juggling everything was hard sometimes but in many ways, his and Lars's relationship resembled a lot of others where both people had children from prior partners - and put those children ahead of pretty much the rest of the world. Where the comparison faltered was with his marriage. With Adrienne, whose own heart was big enough to accept and, indeed, encourage him to be who he needed to be. That capacity of his she'd spoken of, how Billie could not only fall just like that but hang on to the feeling, keep it alive with a bare minimum of assistance from the object of his affection: his life hinged on that. His kids, both of his partners, his best friends and bandmates, his very career; they all intertwined and he somehow made it work because - even in the hardest times when it seemed like the world was falling apart - not a moment went by when he didn't adore every single piece of the equation that defined him.
As the car began to climb into the hills of Oakland, Billie turned in the seat to look out the back window at the lights spread out below. His eyes went to the corner of the Bay where Lars's house sat and a smile grew as he thought that the drummer would be getting dressed now, muttering to himself the whole time about how fucking early it was, and probably cussing Billie out for it too. The books were a solid presence on the seat beside him; a reminder of who his boyfriend was and a promise for their future.
His smile didn't waver as he paid the driver and climbed the steps to his front door, anticipating a sleepy wife to help stack presents and stuff stockings, and a glass of room temperature milk to choke down with a plate of cookies. Excited young voices in a few more hours, even if one of them tried to hide it. Food, family and friends all day, and in the evening, Lars, too. Everyone he loved most in easy reach for a little while.
Billie Joe Armstrong was a lucky man and he knew it. He didn't have much in the way of book-learning, and he'd hardly classify himself as an intellectual bright light, but he had a lot of common sense and furthermore, he was a man who learned from the mistakes that he made. His marriage had faltered in the past because he had come to take Adrienne for granted; he didn't now. He took nothing for granted anymore. That was what had prompted him to make sure Lars was ready last night before taking the reins he'd finally been handed with a deep joy.
As he laid the Danish books and the bear under the Christmas tree, he thought that maybe that was part of why both Lars and Adie accepted this arrangement, because they knew that despite the fact that he had to divide his time between them, he loved each of them wholeheartedly and made sure that they knew it.
"A teddy bear?" came the incredulous voice of his elder son and Billie whirled to see an amused smirk on Joey's face.
He crossed his arms, feeling defensive. "Yeah, what of it?"
The younger Armstrong strolled over and picked up Uli, grinning as he found the 'dog tag'. He shook his head. "Here I thought you were the King of Touchy-Feely, Dad."
"Shut up," Billie shot back reflexively and they shared a startled laugh at the adult, if immature, exchange. He moved to ruffle Joey's hair and tentatively hugged him, his chest tightening when it was allowed. "Couldn't sleep, huh? Want some hot chocolate or something?"
"Sure." The almost-teen stepped away and grabbed a few of the cookies sitting out, raising an eyebrow when Billie would have protested. "Oh please. Less that you have to eat."
Once the late-night snack had been consumed in contented silence, Billie ordered him back to bed amidst hushed protests and giggles from both of them. Halfway up the stairs, Joey stopped and glanced back, a more serious expression on his face. "Is… Is your boyfriend coming for dinner tonight?"
"Um, he might not make it in time for dinner but yeah, sometime," he answered, ignoring the punch of shock at hearing that particular description of Lars from his son in favour of being honest about the situation - and mentally planning a more specific discussion about it later in the week.
Joey looked thoughtful for a long moment and then nodded. "Cool."
He disappeared upstairs, leaving his father to sink down onto the couch back in the living room, overcome with more heightened emotion than he'd care to admit to another living being. He told himself that it was fatigue that made the lights on the tree shimmer and dance in his vision.
The portrait of his parents over the fireplace caught his attention, as it often did. Billie Joe stared at the painting for several minutes with blurry eyes, thinking of the night before and how Torben had welcomed him because he made Lars happy, and of the precocious acceptance his own son had just shown, and then he smiled.
"I've finally got my life together, Dad. I just wish you were here to see it."
No one replied to his whisper but it didn't matter as he got up and began to place brightly wrapped packages under the tree, secure and warm with the knowledge that he was loved exactly as he was.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And yes, folks, this really, really is the end of the ride this time. Our Saints have had their story told and even had their happy ending. :D We hope you've enjoyed reading this series as much as we've loved writing it. And we'll be back...sometime...with something else altogether. (You didn't think we'd mess with a winning team, did ya? ;-D )
Don't forget to leave some love for looking_spiffy.