All That Matters Is That They Fell- Chapter One
Prologue: The Dirty Big Secret
Title: Chapter One: The Road Taken
Author: Me, lupinsmoon12391
Format: Multi-chapter; I dunno how many overall.
Rating (this chapter): Like, PG-13
Pairing: Teen!Mike/Teen!Billie
Warnings: A DEEP Mike. A COMPREHENDING Billie. LONG chapter.
Summary: All that matters is that they fell...Not that they're two guys who are best friends, dating chicks at school, and totally, 100% sure they're straight.
Disclaimer: Not Green Day, not Robert Frost, not my brother-in-law Scott...
Author's Note: My first multi-chapter since losing my stories on gdslash.net, and the second thing I've ever posted here. Written during the teen years, which means no wives and kids. Will be sketchy details-wise, and focus mainly on the slashiness itself. Follows the Prologue though the contents lead up to the Prologue, if that makes sense. If it doesn't, you should just read.
Chapter One: The Road Taken
---
Girls are weird things.
“Damn it!” Billie exclaimed, running into his room and jumping into a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor. Mike ducked from his spot on Billie's bed to avoid being hit by a rogue t-shirt.
“What are you looking for?” he asked his friend, who was busy pulling on shirt after shirt and then discarding them after emitting a dissatisfied grunt. After a few more errs, he replied.
“I'm trying to find a shirt that's clean.” He followed that statement by smelling under the arms of a blue and white striped shirt he had on, eventually growling and tossing that one aside as well.
“Borrow one of mine,” Mike said, returning to a book he was reading for English class.
“If I wanted to borrow one of yours,” Billie said, continuing to dig through the never ending laundry pile, “I would've asked.”
“Why didn't you ask?”
“Because,” Billie paused and sighed, like Mike was a moron who should understand the situation and was very much taking up valuable time. “Shandi made fun of me last time I wore one of your shirts.”
“Tell her to go fuck herself.” Mike shrugged.
“Well that won't do me very well if I'm the one who wants to fuck her, will it?” Billie decided on a red shirt and turned to leave his room, pulling the article over his pale chest mid-stride. He turned back on a thought. “I'm gonna brush my teeth, then I'll catch you later, okay?”
That was his sentimental goodbye for the evening to his best friend, and then he was gone and replaced by the sound of running water on the other side of the wall. Mike kicked the wall with his foot, after displaying on his face a varying of emotions...
“What?” a Billie with his mouth full asked through the wall.
“Don't go.”
Billie spit.
“What, why?”
“Because, I don't want to be alone tonight, dude. Let's hang.”
“I don't want to bond tonight, Mike.” Billie's voice was muffled through the layers, but his personality was still impeccably intact. “Shandi is easy.”
“Aw, come on. I'm bored. We'll find something to do, I promise...”
Billie came back into the room, looking as wary as his voice had painted him to.
“You really want me to ixnay the date?”
“Please?” Mike smiled.
“All right, all right. But whatever we do, it better be as fun as sex.”
“I doubt we could find that mystery means of entertainment, but we can go find some beer.”
“I'm up for that.” Billie smiled; if he was upset, it wasn't showing. “I'll call Shandi and cancel. Who knows? Waiting a day may make her hornier, no?” He smirked as he went into the living room to find the phone.
Mike shut his book, genuinely happy that tonight Billie's attention would be on him.
---
And that's how it had happened. They had been drunk, and Mike had kissed Billie on a spur of the moment and because of some poetry.
It had started after Billie had teased Mike about looking at his ass while he walked (in a distractingly crooked fashion, Mike argued) in front of him. A war of the gay insinuations followed.
“I would so kiss you, but I'm not gonna 'cuz you're a fag and then you'll want to ass fuck me afterwards and I don't want to be leading you on like that.”
“Obviously, you're the fag if you're talking about ass sex and all the whatnot. That's pretty gay, dude.”
“You're fucking gay, queer!”
“Don't push me and call me queer, Billie!”
“Well don't be a queer and I won't call you one, queen!”
“Of course you know all the slanderous words for 'gay.' Since you're gay, you have to know them, it's a rule.”
“And how would you know the fucking rules?”
They were roaming the streets; it was dark, that's all they knew. They were both more than buzzed and had managed to consume an entire bottle of vodka (gained through various shady connections) on their own.
“Are we getting near my house, dude?” Billie asked, as he scanned the asphalt sea before him, several streets going in many directions. “I can't remember which one to take, but it's one of these streets.”
“Total Frost, dude. I read that earlier.”
“Frosting? I like chocolate frosting.” Billie smacked his mouth. “I'd like some frosting.”
“No, no. Frost. Our assignment for English. That dude was totally philosophical. 'Whatever road you take totally affects your life.'
“And that's verbatim?”
“Pretty much.” Mike chuckled at his friend's sarcasm or drunken curiosity; he couldn't figure which. “Pick a road, honey.” He waved in front of him, and then kissed Billie quickly and jokingly on the lips. “Pick our fates.”
Billie seemed a bit caught off guard by the kiss and stared at his friend for a moment before smiling. “I knew you were the fag. I pick this one, come on.”
And then he walked straight ahead and the boys ended up at a dead end and an abandoned house.
“Scott smokes weed here, doesn't he?” Billie asked, prying open the door. Despite appearing like it was boarded, it really wasn't, even more of a sign of its current use. “I hope no one's here now,” Billie said. “And I hope it's no one who will kick our asses.”
Once inside, the boys inspected the place. Most of the rooms were cold and damp, but halfway through, one of the living areas was dusted and had a battery-powered lamp in the middle of the floor. An indention in the carpet practically begged to be filled with a perfect-sized bong.
“Scott's an asshole, never inviting us.” Billie plopped on the couch. “I think I'm sobering.”
“Me too,” Mike agreed, joining his friend. “And this bottle's fucking empty.”
Mike threw the bottle in frustration behind the boys, and then there was the sound of smashing glass and the squeal of a cat. That cracked them up.
“Just like in cartoons, Meowww!” Billie was laughing a little too hard, wiping a few too many tears from his eyes, and Mike suspected that he wasn't anywhere near as sober as he thought.
He kissed him again.
Billie frowned suspiciously at the other boy when he pulled away.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I have no fucking clue.” Mike leaned back and put his hand on his head, like he had a headache.
“I'm not gay?” Billie said, getting at what Mike thought he was doing.
“I'm not gay either, dude; I'm no fag.”
“I wouldn't disown you if you were a fag.”
“I'm not a fag!”
“You've kissed me twice tonight. That's half the number of chicks you've kissed.”
“I'm not a fag. Let's just go, okay?” Mike stood.
Billie nodded, letting the matter drop.
“You staying at my place tonight?”
“Yes, but you don't have to worry about me raping you or anything, if you are.”
They ended up back on the street, and Billie miraculously remembered that he lived two blocks over.
“Don't get pissed at me for asking if you're a fag, you kissed me.”
“Well,” Mike growled, walking ahead of Billie Joe, putting anger into each step. “You should know it wasn't like that.”
“Well, I don't. What was it like?”
“It was like nothing. Let's just forget about it; it was stupid.”
When they got home, Mike went straight to the couch, not the floor of Billie's room as per usual. Billie sighed, confused as to the events of the night, and it wasn't helping that it was already three am and he knew that he was going to be hung over for, like, ever.
“Goodnight, Mike,” he called.
A small sound escaped the blanket cocoon that had homed itself on Billie's couch, and he was satisfied with even that small response and went to lie down in his room, too tired to argue and slightly nauesous.
His mind was running a million miles an hour as he sat in the dark. He could see a few car lights outside his window and pulled back his curtains to get a better view. Trucks, which meant football players coming home from the post-game parties. Billie and Mike never went to those.
Shandi probably wound up going. If he'd gone out with her, she probably would've drug him along to go with her anyways, and he would've gotten drunk, but it wouldn't have been like with Mike. She would never go into an abandoned house with him; she'd say it look condemned and 'dangerous.'
And then it hit Billie, so hard that he literally shook his head to grasp the situation. That's what Mike had meant. It wasn't that he was gay, or that he liked Billie that way. It all had to do with spending time together, and they always had fun when they did stuff. Billie loved spending time with Mike. As he was preparing for his date earlier, he'd been trying to think of a way to hurry up to the sex so he could end it sooner and come home. Then he could tell Mike about it and laugh at all the stupid things she did, though Mike would probably have just pointed out that Billie's actions were far more stupider.
He went out to the living room and sat on the edge of his couch next to the blob, and a blonde head peeked out.
“Hmm?” Mike asked.
“I get what you meant.”
“About what?”
“Earlier.”
“Frost?”
“Kissing me.”
“Ughh...I thought we were just gonna throw that away, pretend it never happened!”
“I know why you did it.”
“'Cuz I'm a fag, right?”
“No, because...I don't know, it's hard to say. It's because I'm me and you're you, and it's Mike and Billie and that's how it's always been?”
“That's partially it, yes.” Mike smiled, and color finally appeared to be returning to his face. Billie didn't realize how much he liked how colored Mike's face was (horrible zits, and new ones that he'd have to tease him about later, aside) until that moment.
And then he kissed him, though it didn't count, because his lips barely touched his friend's before he pulled back, blushing and feeling like an idiot.
“What the hell am I doing?”
“I don't know.” Mike sighed. “I don't know, Billie Joe.”
And then the boys met in the middle somewhere, kissing, lips pulling at each other's, teeth hitting in that way that Billie always thought unnecessarily annoying, ( it actually made him want to consider dating a woman who'd long ago lost her molars) though with Mike it didn't bother him so much. In fact, he didn't even mind it when Mike's tongue was almost gagging him because Mike, unlike most girls, knew to pull back before Billie choked. Hawking up in a girl's mouth could really ruin the moment.
And then they were standing, moving as one, and then somehow they ended up in Billie's room, and Mike's hands were roaming all over his body, finally deciding to unbutton Billie's pants. Then, without even realizing it, Billie slammed his door shut with his foot.
---
CHAPTER TWO FOLLOWS!
Title: Chapter One: The Road Taken
Author: Me, lupinsmoon12391
Format: Multi-chapter; I dunno how many overall.
Rating (this chapter): Like, PG-13
Pairing: Teen!Mike/Teen!Billie
Warnings: A DEEP Mike. A COMPREHENDING Billie. LONG chapter.
Summary: All that matters is that they fell...Not that they're two guys who are best friends, dating chicks at school, and totally, 100% sure they're straight.
Disclaimer: Not Green Day, not Robert Frost, not my brother-in-law Scott...
Author's Note: My first multi-chapter since losing my stories on gdslash.net, and the second thing I've ever posted here. Written during the teen years, which means no wives and kids. Will be sketchy details-wise, and focus mainly on the slashiness itself. Follows the Prologue though the contents lead up to the Prologue, if that makes sense. If it doesn't, you should just read.
Chapter One: The Road Taken
---
Girls are weird things.
“Damn it!” Billie exclaimed, running into his room and jumping into a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor. Mike ducked from his spot on Billie's bed to avoid being hit by a rogue t-shirt.
“What are you looking for?” he asked his friend, who was busy pulling on shirt after shirt and then discarding them after emitting a dissatisfied grunt. After a few more errs, he replied.
“I'm trying to find a shirt that's clean.” He followed that statement by smelling under the arms of a blue and white striped shirt he had on, eventually growling and tossing that one aside as well.
“Borrow one of mine,” Mike said, returning to a book he was reading for English class.
“If I wanted to borrow one of yours,” Billie said, continuing to dig through the never ending laundry pile, “I would've asked.”
“Why didn't you ask?”
“Because,” Billie paused and sighed, like Mike was a moron who should understand the situation and was very much taking up valuable time. “Shandi made fun of me last time I wore one of your shirts.”
“Tell her to go fuck herself.” Mike shrugged.
“Well that won't do me very well if I'm the one who wants to fuck her, will it?” Billie decided on a red shirt and turned to leave his room, pulling the article over his pale chest mid-stride. He turned back on a thought. “I'm gonna brush my teeth, then I'll catch you later, okay?”
That was his sentimental goodbye for the evening to his best friend, and then he was gone and replaced by the sound of running water on the other side of the wall. Mike kicked the wall with his foot, after displaying on his face a varying of emotions...
“What?” a Billie with his mouth full asked through the wall.
“Don't go.”
Billie spit.
“What, why?”
“Because, I don't want to be alone tonight, dude. Let's hang.”
“I don't want to bond tonight, Mike.” Billie's voice was muffled through the layers, but his personality was still impeccably intact. “Shandi is easy.”
“Aw, come on. I'm bored. We'll find something to do, I promise...”
Billie came back into the room, looking as wary as his voice had painted him to.
“You really want me to ixnay the date?”
“Please?” Mike smiled.
“All right, all right. But whatever we do, it better be as fun as sex.”
“I doubt we could find that mystery means of entertainment, but we can go find some beer.”
“I'm up for that.” Billie smiled; if he was upset, it wasn't showing. “I'll call Shandi and cancel. Who knows? Waiting a day may make her hornier, no?” He smirked as he went into the living room to find the phone.
Mike shut his book, genuinely happy that tonight Billie's attention would be on him.
---
And that's how it had happened. They had been drunk, and Mike had kissed Billie on a spur of the moment and because of some poetry.
It had started after Billie had teased Mike about looking at his ass while he walked (in a distractingly crooked fashion, Mike argued) in front of him. A war of the gay insinuations followed.
“I would so kiss you, but I'm not gonna 'cuz you're a fag and then you'll want to ass fuck me afterwards and I don't want to be leading you on like that.”
“Obviously, you're the fag if you're talking about ass sex and all the whatnot. That's pretty gay, dude.”
“You're fucking gay, queer!”
“Don't push me and call me queer, Billie!”
“Well don't be a queer and I won't call you one, queen!”
“Of course you know all the slanderous words for 'gay.' Since you're gay, you have to know them, it's a rule.”
“And how would you know the fucking rules?”
They were roaming the streets; it was dark, that's all they knew. They were both more than buzzed and had managed to consume an entire bottle of vodka (gained through various shady connections) on their own.
“Are we getting near my house, dude?” Billie asked, as he scanned the asphalt sea before him, several streets going in many directions. “I can't remember which one to take, but it's one of these streets.”
“Total Frost, dude. I read that earlier.”
“Frosting? I like chocolate frosting.” Billie smacked his mouth. “I'd like some frosting.”
“No, no. Frost. Our assignment for English. That dude was totally philosophical. 'Whatever road you take totally affects your life.'
“And that's verbatim?”
“Pretty much.” Mike chuckled at his friend's sarcasm or drunken curiosity; he couldn't figure which. “Pick a road, honey.” He waved in front of him, and then kissed Billie quickly and jokingly on the lips. “Pick our fates.”
Billie seemed a bit caught off guard by the kiss and stared at his friend for a moment before smiling. “I knew you were the fag. I pick this one, come on.”
And then he walked straight ahead and the boys ended up at a dead end and an abandoned house.
“Scott smokes weed here, doesn't he?” Billie asked, prying open the door. Despite appearing like it was boarded, it really wasn't, even more of a sign of its current use. “I hope no one's here now,” Billie said. “And I hope it's no one who will kick our asses.”
Once inside, the boys inspected the place. Most of the rooms were cold and damp, but halfway through, one of the living areas was dusted and had a battery-powered lamp in the middle of the floor. An indention in the carpet practically begged to be filled with a perfect-sized bong.
“Scott's an asshole, never inviting us.” Billie plopped on the couch. “I think I'm sobering.”
“Me too,” Mike agreed, joining his friend. “And this bottle's fucking empty.”
Mike threw the bottle in frustration behind the boys, and then there was the sound of smashing glass and the squeal of a cat. That cracked them up.
“Just like in cartoons, Meowww!” Billie was laughing a little too hard, wiping a few too many tears from his eyes, and Mike suspected that he wasn't anywhere near as sober as he thought.
He kissed him again.
Billie frowned suspiciously at the other boy when he pulled away.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I have no fucking clue.” Mike leaned back and put his hand on his head, like he had a headache.
“I'm not gay?” Billie said, getting at what Mike thought he was doing.
“I'm not gay either, dude; I'm no fag.”
“I wouldn't disown you if you were a fag.”
“I'm not a fag!”
“You've kissed me twice tonight. That's half the number of chicks you've kissed.”
“I'm not a fag. Let's just go, okay?” Mike stood.
Billie nodded, letting the matter drop.
“You staying at my place tonight?”
“Yes, but you don't have to worry about me raping you or anything, if you are.”
They ended up back on the street, and Billie miraculously remembered that he lived two blocks over.
“Don't get pissed at me for asking if you're a fag, you kissed me.”
“Well,” Mike growled, walking ahead of Billie Joe, putting anger into each step. “You should know it wasn't like that.”
“Well, I don't. What was it like?”
“It was like nothing. Let's just forget about it; it was stupid.”
When they got home, Mike went straight to the couch, not the floor of Billie's room as per usual. Billie sighed, confused as to the events of the night, and it wasn't helping that it was already three am and he knew that he was going to be hung over for, like, ever.
“Goodnight, Mike,” he called.
A small sound escaped the blanket cocoon that had homed itself on Billie's couch, and he was satisfied with even that small response and went to lie down in his room, too tired to argue and slightly nauesous.
His mind was running a million miles an hour as he sat in the dark. He could see a few car lights outside his window and pulled back his curtains to get a better view. Trucks, which meant football players coming home from the post-game parties. Billie and Mike never went to those.
Shandi probably wound up going. If he'd gone out with her, she probably would've drug him along to go with her anyways, and he would've gotten drunk, but it wouldn't have been like with Mike. She would never go into an abandoned house with him; she'd say it look condemned and 'dangerous.'
And then it hit Billie, so hard that he literally shook his head to grasp the situation. That's what Mike had meant. It wasn't that he was gay, or that he liked Billie that way. It all had to do with spending time together, and they always had fun when they did stuff. Billie loved spending time with Mike. As he was preparing for his date earlier, he'd been trying to think of a way to hurry up to the sex so he could end it sooner and come home. Then he could tell Mike about it and laugh at all the stupid things she did, though Mike would probably have just pointed out that Billie's actions were far more stupider.
He went out to the living room and sat on the edge of his couch next to the blob, and a blonde head peeked out.
“Hmm?” Mike asked.
“I get what you meant.”
“About what?”
“Earlier.”
“Frost?”
“Kissing me.”
“Ughh...I thought we were just gonna throw that away, pretend it never happened!”
“I know why you did it.”
“'Cuz I'm a fag, right?”
“No, because...I don't know, it's hard to say. It's because I'm me and you're you, and it's Mike and Billie and that's how it's always been?”
“That's partially it, yes.” Mike smiled, and color finally appeared to be returning to his face. Billie didn't realize how much he liked how colored Mike's face was (horrible zits, and new ones that he'd have to tease him about later, aside) until that moment.
And then he kissed him, though it didn't count, because his lips barely touched his friend's before he pulled back, blushing and feeling like an idiot.
“What the hell am I doing?”
“I don't know.” Mike sighed. “I don't know, Billie Joe.”
And then the boys met in the middle somewhere, kissing, lips pulling at each other's, teeth hitting in that way that Billie always thought unnecessarily annoying, ( it actually made him want to consider dating a woman who'd long ago lost her molars) though with Mike it didn't bother him so much. In fact, he didn't even mind it when Mike's tongue was almost gagging him because Mike, unlike most girls, knew to pull back before Billie choked. Hawking up in a girl's mouth could really ruin the moment.
And then they were standing, moving as one, and then somehow they ended up in Billie's room, and Mike's hands were roaming all over his body, finally deciding to unbutton Billie's pants. Then, without even realizing it, Billie slammed his door shut with his foot.
---
CHAPTER TWO FOLLOWS!