Title: You're Mine
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan fiction.
Summary: “Go straight home tonight,” Billie Joe mumbled in Mike’s ear while Tré was otherwise distracted with laying down a drumbeat.
Notes: By request. This was fun to write. And I think the first time I've ever written anything of the sort... it's quite masochistic.
Deds: lyrical_mess52




“Go straight home tonight,” Billie Joe mumbled in Mike’s ear while Tré was otherwise distracted with laying down a drumbeat.

The studio was air conditioned, but Mike couldn’t help the sweat prickling his forehead or the way his throat suddenly closed up when he nodded his understanding to the shorter man. Billie Joe smirked and swaggered, as Mike couldn’t think of a better word to describe that damn walk of his, back to where his guitar was propped up against a black leather sofa. He scratched his head and licked his lips with a tongue that already felt as dry as the Sahara desert. All the while, the emerald eyes beneath that mop of raven hair were locked on him and his newfound fidgety nervousness.

On days like these, Mike felt like the car ride home could not be any longer. His knuckles were turning white from the grip he had on his steering wheel. Billie Joe, the bastard, had left before his other band mates and the guys had all decided he was in hot water with Adrienne… but Mike knew. Mike knew that he would get to his own, supposedly empty, house and open his door to find the main floor quite silent. But then he would walk up the stairs and gently lay his right hand on the doorknob to his bedroom and find Billie Joe-

Standing there fully clothed?

The front man slowly walked up to his confused bassist with a somewhat sadistic grin on his face. He placed one finger on Mike’s chest and slowly dragged it up and down and in a few random loops before stepping around behind him and dragging his finger along Mike’s back. Mike audibly gulped and licked his once again parched lips. Billie Joe stood directly behind him with a smirk on his face and said cockily, “How are you feeling?”

“I- I- I-“

“Good,” Billie Joe mumbled, his voice smooth as velvet, “That’s what I wanted to hear. And now that I’ve heard that, I don’t want to hear anything else you have to say. You got it?”

It was all Mike could do but to nod in submission.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” the older man said, pulling a red bandana out of his back pocket and reaching around in front of his best friend to blindfold him. The whole time he left his lips slightly parted in a wanton manner. Mike couldn’t help but sigh when he felt his shirt being unbuttoned and sliding off his arms. Billie Joe’s breath was hitting his collarbone and making the skin there sticky and damp. Mike thought of quipping about how he’d catch flies with his mouth open like that, but decided against it for the time being. It wasn’t like this was the only time Billie Joe’s mouth was open around him.

The guitarist placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder and brazenly shoved him down onto his knees on the floor. Mike remained there, not afraid, but hesitant to even lift a finger. The older man placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders and pushed him into a laying position on his stomach. Mike tipped his head to the side on which he assumed Billie Joe was standing and waited.

“Now, Mike,” Billie Joe said slowly and thoughtfully, “You haven’t said a word, like I asked, which is good. And you haven’t put up a fight at all, which is making my job easy. Now I want to know… do you want me?”

Mike nodded his head without wavering.

“Say it, Mike. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, you fucker. I want you to have your way with me.”

“Tsk tsk, Mike,” Billie Joe said, “Name calling isn’t very nice of you. That’s no way to get what you want out of life.”

“Oh, I’ll get what I fucking want,” Mike said, finally finding his voice. After all, he was generally the dominating one in the relationship.

Billie Joe kicked him in the side, not hard enough to injure, but enough to get his point across, “Don’t talk to me like that.” Mike pressed his lips together and nodded as a slow grin crawled across Billie Joe’s face. He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a whip he had hidden there previously. He raised it up and then lashed it down onto Mike’s back. The taller man arched away from it instinctively and let out a sharp gasp.

“You look so helpless,” Billie Joe said quietly, before grabbing a pair of handcuffs out of the drawer and cuffing Mike’s wrists together behind his back, “And now you look helpless and trapped.”

He lifted the whip once again and brought it down. Pink lines had formed on Mike’s back and were starting to swell a little. Billie Joe was typically more of a softie and his heart skipped a beat when he saw what he had inflicted. But the way Mike was lying there… writhing… he let the crop lick Mike’s back on last time before dropping it.

He grabbed Mike’s forearm, “Get up.”

Mike got to his feet and Billie Joe quickly undid the buckle of his belt and slid it out of the loops. He dropped it on the bed and turned back to Mike to undo his jeans. After those had dropped to the floor, he slid two fingers under the waistband of his boxers. He tugged them away from his hips and glanced down them, “Not too bad.”

He grabbed onto the waistband, pulled them down, and left them around his knees. Mike shifted a little just before he was shoved down onto the bed.

“Ar-are you still wearing all your clothes?” Mike managed to ask.

“Yeah,” Billie Joe answered, “What’s it to ya’?”

Mike shook his head finding the courage to test the waters a little, “No reason. Just curious. I figured you might feel a little inferior in comparison to me.”

“Fuck you,” Billie Joe spat, grabbing the previously discarded belt with both hands and snapping it on Mike’s stomach four times. Mike pressed his lips together and held his breath, trying not to make a sound.

Billie Joe undid one of the handcuffs and brought the chain up and around a bar in the headboard before fastening Mike’s wrist back into it. He glanced behind him, down the slender body, and saw that Mike was clearly enjoying himself. He let two of his fingers walk down Mike’s chest, stomach, and then abdomen before lifting them up placing them gently on Mike’s lips.

He got off the bed and walked towards the door, “I’ll be right back.”

Mike sighed when he heard the door click shut and licked his lips. He sucked in a deep breath and savored the moment he was in. Just days before, he had confessed after a few drinks that he had always wanted to be dominated and that he had always been the tiniest bit masochistic. And now that all his fantasies were coming to life, he cou-

“Did you miss me?”

“You have no idea,” Mike replied in what he hoped at least sounded sincere and not at all sarcastic.

Billie Joe grinned and lowered himself on to the bed. He had left to room to undress himself without Mike being able to hear the ruffle of clothing. He crawled towards Mike and settled his knees on either side of Mike’s stomach.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Mike mused.

“I’m not wearing anything,” the smaller man corrected. Mike licked his lips impulsively and swallowed. Billie Joe chuckled under his breath and raised his hips more so as to situate himself. When he had Mike positioned at his entrance he slowly began to sink his hips downward. Once he had lowered himself completely, he slowly pulled back up and off.

“I don’t think you want it bad enough,” he explained, seating himself on the bassist’s stomach instead. Mike sighed and began to open his mouth to complain, but thought better of it. He wasn’t about to take any risks now, not when he was this close to getting what he wanted. Billie Joe noted this and bit his lip thoughtfully, “I think I’ll go have a beer.”

Mike began to protest but thought better of it and instead said, “I… I’m not stopping you.”

“Well, Mike. ‘Adda boy. You’re finally coming to your senses.” And with this statement, Billie Joe repositioned himself and plunged down onto Mike rather abruptly. Mike groaned through his closed lips and arched his back as much as he could.

“Now, Mike,” Billie Joe said through clenched teeth, “I want you to tell me before you come, okay? You tell me.”

Mike nodded slowly with his jaw hanging slack as Billie Joe moved his hips up and down, occasionally rotating them in the slightest grinding motion. A pair of moans was elicited from their lips as they matched each other in rhythm. Billie Joe felt himself nearing the end and his muscles clenched around Mike.

“I- soon, Bill,” Mike mumbled, “Real soon.”

At this notification, Billie Joe reached forward and tore the bandana off, tossing it to the ground. “Look at me,” he commanded, locking eyes with Mike just in time for the two of them to topple over the edge of their orgasms and release somewhat animalistic moans of ecstasy. He collapsed on top of his lover, the sheen layers of sweat they each had combining between them, and then rolled off to the side.

Mike’s hand searched the sheets before finally clasping around Billie Joe’s fingers, “That was amazing.”

“I- yeah,” he replied, curling into Mike’s side.

“Thanks for… you know, that. Because I know you’re not into that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but I’m into you. So that’s enough for me.”

Mike grinned, “I think I love you.”

Billie Joe smiled, “Yeah, I think I kinda’ love you, too.”

“Where ya’ goin’?” Mike asked when Billie Joe sat up. Billie Joe held up a finger and went into the attached bathroom before coming back out with a bottle of aloe.

“Roll over,” he whispered, pouring some of the cool, blue liquid into his palm. Mike did as told and Billie Joe sat next to him, gently rubbing the soothing aloe onto the welts from the whip. Mike let his eyes slide closed and enjoyed the cooling sensation against his fiery skin. Once that was finished, he rolled onto his side and watched his best friend intently.

“All these emotions…” Billie Joe mused, “I’ve gotten myself in pretty deep.”

“Actually,” Mike said, “I’m the one who was in deep.”



Rifinito.
---
That flowed really easily for me, which was shocking, because this isn't the kind of stuff I'd normally write. So... what'd you think? :)

Current Mood: cranky

Title: Je Ne Sais Pas
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Adrienne/Billie Joe
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan fiction.
Summary: "I was selfish and I was stupid."
Notes: I have returned... and I haven't seen many people I recognize posting... so I'm guessing for a lot of you... this is like... a first post to you. But alas, it's not. I'm a veteran who's been... marooned on a desert island or something fun like that.


“Please don’t do this, Mike,” Billie Joe mumbled nervously, his pale hand gripping the bassist’s wrist firmly, “This isn’t what you want.”

Mike tried his best to harden his gaze, “Beej, if I didn’t want it, why would I do it?”

“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know. But I can see it in your eyes. It’s in your goddamn eyes, Mike. You don’t want to leave me. And I can’t figure out why you’re saying you do.”

The taller man slid his wrist out from the guitarist’s loosening grasp, “I’ve got to do this, Beej. Please don’t try to stop me. It’s taking all I’ve got just to say it once. Don’t make me say it again.”

Billie Joe looked at him pleadingly, “If you don’t say it again, I won’t believe that you mean it.”

Mike sighed, “Billie Joe, we can’t be together anymore.”

---

“God, Mike, at least talk to me, will ya’?” Billie Joe said with exasperation, “Please talk to me.”

“I doubt you want to hear what I have to say. Fuck off, will ya’? I don’t want to talk,” the taller man replied, walking briskly in the opposite direction.

“Mike, you’re being ridiculous.”

The younger man spun around and stuck a finger on the front man’s chest, “Am I really? A week ago you were telling me you loved me. Now you’re seeing some bitch.”

Billie Joe grabbed his finger like it was that of a small child’s and locked eyes, “Yeah, I know, Mike. But we have songs to write, shows to play, and a band to maintain. You left me. I figured you’d want me to try and move on from you. So that’s what I’m doing… I’m trying. And she’s not a bitch.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation. You want to jam and write music? Fine. We will. But don’t bring this shit up with me again, okay? And keep your fuckin’ girlfriend out of my way.”

Billie Joe narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand you, Mike, but whatever you want…”

---

Billie Joe pressed the cellular device harder into his ear as he listened to the phone ring while trying to navigate his way through treacherously heavy traffic. He checked his blind spot before merging carefully into the leftmost lane. The phone rang again as he resituated the way he was seated and mumbled, “Fuckin’ ass is falling asleep.”

Mike’s voicemail came through loudly, albeit crackly, and was followed by the ever-faithful beep and Billie Joe cleared his throat, which had suddenly closed up, “Hey Mike. I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to do coffee or something. You haven’t been answering your phone lately and I have something to talk to you about. Well, what the hell, I’ll just say it now. I’m marrying her, Mike. I asked her and she said yes. It’s going to be small and simple. Please, call me back. I want you to be my be-“

He grumbled as the voicemail cut him off and flipped the phone closed, tossing it on the passenger seat. He rubbed his face tiredly and sighed, glancing at the phone that wasn’t ringing and then merging to the right lane before his exit appeared. He took the exit and then drove down the familiar streets that he had traveled many times. Eventually he pulled into his bassist’s driveway and killed the ignition while screwing up his face. The garage door was wide-open and the vehicle parked within it was proof that Mike was definitely at home.

“So he’s been ignoring me,” Billie Joe mumbled softly, entering the house without even knocking.

When he got to the living room, he spotted Mike sprawled out on the couch asleep. An empty coffee mug was tipped over on the floor next to the couch and occasionally the right corner of his lips would twitch. The guitarist glanced at the answering machine to see that his message had been received. The light notifying any new voicemails wasn’t blinking and the little door that hides the tape was open with the tape missing. Billie Joe let his eyes wander and finally found the cassette laying in the recliner, with the plastic tape unwound from its spools messily.

Billie Joe shook his head and left Mike’s humble abode quietly. He got back in his car and backed out of the driveway and back onto the road all the while thinking out loud, “I… she’s been around for like four years now. He… he left me. I have no reason to feel guilty, but God, do I ever.”

---

Green Day greeted 2009 with fistfuls of optimism accompanying their soon-to-be released album. The year ahead of them was proving to fill up interviews, tour dates, photo shoots, and anything else that could be crammed into an already busy schedule of events. Early in the year, during February and March, their schedules seemed to have more free days than what was to come… no pun intended.

It was on a rather drizzly day in March that Mike met Billie Joe at a nearby park to bring up a topic that had been buried beneath years of booze and practice in the art of hiding one’s feelings. The guitarist arrived to find his best friend already sitting on the green merry-go-round, kicking lazily at the damp dirt surrounding it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat next to Mike, turning his head to look at the younger man’s profile.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes of silence, Billie Joe exhaled and said, “So…?”

Mike finally turned and looked him square in the eye, “I love you.”

Billie Joe cracked a smile, “I love you too, man. But what’s going on?”

“No,” Mike corrected, “I love you.”

“I- oh? Oh…”

“Typical Billie Joe Armstrong reaction. I should’ve figured,” Mike murmured, beginning to stand up.

“No, wait,” Billie Joe said, grabbing his wrist to stop him. It was then that Mike had a flashback of a dim memory of another time in the past that the smaller man had grabbed his wrist to make him stay and he had walked away instead. He sat back down and felt Billie Joe relax a little.

The two remained silent for a while and finally Billie Joe swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, “What… what made you think of that all these years later?”

“It’s a feeling, Beej, not a thought. It hasn’t… it hasn’t gone away. Shit, man, those kind of feelings don’t just disappear.”

“So… you never stopped?”

“No.”

Billie Joe felt tears beginning to prickle his eyes and asked the question he’d been pondering for years, “Then why’d you leave me?”

Mike let out an impulsive breath of near panic, “I don’t want to say.”

“I deserve to know, Mike.”

Mike shook his head, “I was selfish and I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”

Billie Joe hesitantly placed a hand on Mike’s thigh, “Please tell me.”

“I wanted to feel heartbreak.”

“You… you what?”

“I wanted to feel heartbreak. And I was afraid that I’d never feel it because you were my first love and I didn’t see any reason for us to breakup.”

“So… you just did it? Just to feel emotional pain?”

Mike chanced a glance at the older man, “You don’t think everyone should experience it at least once?”

“Well, I think… I… kind of. But Mike, if you can avoid it, by all means do it. It’s few that get the chance to escape heartbreak. And those few are lucky.”

“I’m sorry, Beej. I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“I’m more sorry that you put yourself through it,” Billie Joe whispered, getting up and walking to his car.


Rifinito.
---
Well? Well? Haha. Man... it feels... weird to be posting again. You have no idea. It's been... well, I think livejournal told me it was like eighty or ninety-some weeks. Go me, right? I miss this. Let's see if I can keep it up, yeah? I have missed the comments... >_>

Current Mood: blah

Title: The Violence Within.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R... Maybe NC-17
Pairing: Billie Joe/Adrienne; Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: "I’m a person and I need much more than this. I deserve more than what I’m getting."
Notes: Yep, I come back with a little piece of writing for you guys. I've really, really missed you all!







Billie Joe is relentless as he thrusts into his bassist. Sweat is dripping off their bodies and the headboard is slamming against the cheap motel’s wall.

“Aw, fuck.” Billie Joe says, his voice is hoarse and his chewed down fingernails are leaving little pink crescent moons all along the pale skin of Mike’s stomach, back, and waist, “Fuck, so good.”

Mike’s eyes are tightly shut and he thinks that if he opens them, they might be watering and he doesn’t want Billie Joe to stop, to be concerned, because that’s not how it works.

Billie Joe pauses and then thrusts deep as he comes and Mike comes too, but there’s also a sharp pain within him from the stretch, so he doesn’t moan loudly like Billie Joe does.

Billie Joe pulls out and cleans himself up before throwing on his clothes, grabbing his keys, and heading out the door to go back home to his wife and kids. He doesn’t stay and hold Mike or kiss him lightly. And Mike doesn’t say a word. It’s all a silent procedure that he doesn’t want to scratch, because it’s how it’s always been and how it always will be.

He paid for the night, so he decides to stay in the dingy motel room and stare at the ceiling and plans to grab some bad complimentary coffee when he checks out in the morning.

---

Billie Joe curses when the tip of his pencil breaks. He throws it across the room and it bounces off the wall. With his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms, he cries. And not some quiet, macho crying, but full-blown sobs that rack his body and are accompanied by screams of anguish.

Adrienne rushes into the room and crouches down next to him, “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t write again.”

Her words hurt, but only because they’re so true, so Billie Joe stands up abruptly and Adrienne loses her balance and plunks back into a sitting position on the floor.

“I’m going to Mike’s.” is all he says and she nods in understanding.

He grabs his keys and wallet and leaves the house.

Mike is home, just as he suspected, and Mike doesn’t have any company, so Billie Joe lets himself in. He barges through the house until he finds Mike folding some laundry.

“Right here, right now.” is his command as Mike drops the t-shirt in his hands and latches onto Billie Joe’s arms in a fiery kiss. Billie Joe fucks him on the cold tile floor and then he fucks him again on top of the running dryer.

“You kinky fuck.” He whispers in Mike’s ear as he comes.

He grabs Mike’s wrist and pulls him along, “What other kinky places can we do this?” He wonders more to himself than to Mike.

He finally settles on one last place, the bench swing in Mike’s backyard. It sways back and forth with his hard, pounding motions into Mike. When he’s done, he cleans up, gets dressed, takes his keys, and leaves to go home. Mike lays there, naked on the swing, and sighs, he doesn’t say a word. It’s a silent course of action and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

The stars start to prickle through the atmosphere when he finally gets up. The swing creaks and is left swaying as he walks into his house and takes a long, hot shower.

He doesn’t bother drying off or getting dressed; instead he just crawls into bed wet and cold. This is how he falls asleep.

---

“Billie Joe, you need to talk to somebody.” Adrienne says to him as he’s changing into pajamas.

He shoots her a look, “About what, Adrienne? Talk to somebody about what?”

She sighs and rubs at her temples, “You’re so disconnected from us, Beej, and it’s putting a lot of straining on everybody and on our relationship.”

“I don’t need to talk to somebody, Adrienne. Thanks anyways.”

“Billie Joe, if you aren’t going to do something about it, I will.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “How so?”

A few tears fall down her cheeks and land on the crisp, white linen, darkening it in little blotches, “I’m leaving.” She whispers, looking up at him.

He cusses and punches the wall and Adrienne jumps, “Fuck this. Fuck this.”

He storms out of their room and grabs his coat from the coat closet. He throws it on and seizes his car keys, getting in the car and speeding off to Mike’s house.

Billie Joe kills the engine and gets out, running up to Mike’s front door and finds it locked. He jogs around to the back door and finds that one locked as well. So he bends down and picks up the fake rock that Mike hides his spare key in and opens it. There’s no key, but there is a folded up piece of paper.

Billie Joe snatches up the paper and shoves it in his pocket, dropping the faux rock on the deck and walking back around the house. He doesn’t stay and instead drives to the nearest park. When he gets there, he sits on the merry-go-round and pulls out the paper and opens it up. His eyes squint to read the scratchy handwriting under the street lamps.

BJ-

Please don’t be mad that I’m not here. But if you’re reading this, then it means you’ve gone too far.

We’ve been best friends for, hell, I don’t know, a long time. I love you more than life itself, but I don’t know if you love me. I would do anything for you, I promised you that, but I didn’t intend to become some cheap fuck.

You’re using me to vent, Billie Joe. I’m a person and I need much more than this. I deserve more than what I’m getting.

Don’t come back around until you figure yourself out. I’m not some toy to be cast aside when you’re entertained elsewhere.

I need more.

-MD

Billie Joe throws the paper on the ground and then bends over to pick it up and read it again. He shoves it in his coat pocket and gets up, kicking at a pebble as he walks back to his car. He gets in and repeatedly thumps his head against the steering wheel.

He throws the car into reverse and goes back to Mike’s place. As he walks up the driveway, he sees that light upstairs is on now and the pressure in his chest is so high, he feels like it will explode.

He storms into Mike’s house and up the stairs to Mike’s room. Mike is sitting on his bed and looks up with a fright when Billie Joe’s figure is present in his doorway. Billie Joes walks up to him and tips him back on the mattress. Mike’s eyes look almost scared as Billie Joe hovers over him.

“I never called you a cheap fuck, Mike. Who ever told you that you were?”

Mike glances away and sighs as Billie Joe’s hands remain clamped to his wrists, “Nobody, Bill. But it’s just what I feel like.”

Billie Joe leans down close to Mike’s face and lightly blows on his lips. Mike’s tongue flicks out to lick at them and Billie Joe closes the gap between them, hungrily kissing his best friend and bassist.

Billie Joe fucks Mike hard and fast. Mike doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t feel either. It was like every other time; Billie Joe just wasn’t going to change.

They finish up and Billie Joe walks into the bathroom to grab a towel and clean himself up. He then walks out with the towel still in hand and hovers of Mike. He gently cleans Mike off as well, never breaking eye contact.

Mike almost shivers when Billie Joe tosses the soiled towel aside.

Billie Joe grabs his boxers and put them on, tossing Mike his as well. Mike slides them on and slithers under his blankets and curls up, watching Billie Joe intently, waiting for him to leave.

But Billie Joe doesn’t even continue to dress. He slides into bed next to Mike and softly presses his lips against Mike’s own lips, forehead, and cheek. He slides his arm over Mike’s waist and sighs in relief.

“What are you doing?” Mike whispers cautiously.

Billie Joe’s eyes slide open, “I was trying to sleep.”

Mike searches Billie Joe’s eye briefly, “You’re not gonna’ leave?”

“No, Mike, I’m staying.”

Mike smiles and nods, his eyes starting to droop.

Billie Joe gulps, “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah. I’d like it if you stayed. I’d like it very much.”

“Can I stay tomorrow too?”

“Sure.”

“And the next day and the next day?”

Mike shrugs, “I guess.”

Billie Joe nods, “Good night.”

“G’night.”





Rifinito.
----
So yes, I'm back, kind of. I don't know how permanent it is... it may just be this one time... I don't know.
As always, I love love love comments. Feels good to be posting again, really...


But can I do a little shameless advertising? My best friend and I started a forum and there's literally only one other member besides us and we're really trying to kick it off. It's a general forum, no themes to follow... I don't know, we just need people to join, talk, and get other people to join. I told him that you guys were great and I'd talk to you and he said, "Good. And tell all your Green Day obsessed friends to make all their Green Day obsessed friends join too,"
Needless to say, he's a fan of them, but he's annoyed by my writing/reading/obsessing... :D
Anyways, the link to our forum is below.
Go Heehaw!
I'm SaraSyringe on there, if anyone wants to chit chat.
Err, if I'm not allowed to advertise other sites, let me know, I'll edit it out. :]

Current Mood: excited

Title: Did U Miss This?
Author: Seven. Me.
Rating: R or NC-17... Dunno which.
Pairing: OT3... sorta'.
Discalimer: Not real. Don't own, don't sue. Fanfiction.
Notes: I'm back. Sort of. I'll explain at the end.





Tré Fucking Cool: Billieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
2Dolla Bill: What Tré?
Tré Fucking Cool: How’s Cali?
2Dolla Bill: Same as u left it Tré
Tré Fucking Cool: Did it get cooler?
2Dolla Bill: Yeah…
Tré Fucking Cool: Don’t worry! The temp. will go up when I get back cuz I is smokin’!
2Dolla Bill: U worry me. How’s New York and Ramona?
Tré Fucking Cool: Both good. Where r u?
2Dolla Bill: Office
Tré Fucking Cool: Go into the bathroom and shut the door
2Dolla Bill: Y?
Tré Fucking Cool: Just do it
2Dolla Bill: Ok…
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt has entered the room.
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt: Hey Bill y does Tré want us in our bathrooms?
2Dolla Bill: I wish I could tell u
Tré Fucking Cool: R u guys in tehre?
Tré Fucking Cool: there**
2Dolla Bill: I am
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt: Me 2
Tré Fucking Cool has invited you to start viewing webcam. Accept or Deny.
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt has accepted.
2Dolla Bill has accepted.
Tré Fucking Cool: U guys Miss this?
2Dolla Bill: Oh God Tré
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt: U r crazy Tré
Tré Fucking Cool: What do u want me 2 do? :)
Tré Fucking Cool: Hello???
Tré Fucking Cool: U guys there??
2Dolla Bill: God Tré uh move ur hand up and down
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt: and swipe ur thumb over the slit
2Dolla Bill: That’s it Tré
2Dolla Bill: I love how ur mouth is hanging open
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt: Oh God. Tré can you hold that pose for like 10 minutes?
Tré Fucking Cool: y?
Dirnt Dirnt Dirnt has signed out.
Tré Fucking Cool: Does he think this is funny?
2Dolla Bill: I sure don’t
2Dolla Bill: Ohhhhhh
Tré Fucking Cool: wut?
2Dolla Bill has invited you to start viewing webcam. Accept or Deny.
Tré Fucking Cool has accepted.
Tré Fucking Cool: Oh God u 2…


Tré bit his lip and stroked the shaft of his cock slowly, watching Mike attack Billie Joe’s neck hungrily. He sat back a little and slid his thumb over the slit of his dick, swiping some precome down the length. Mike and Billie Joe continued to watch him from the corner of their eyes as Mike licked a long trail down the center of Billie Joe’s chest and stomach.

Mike slowly adjusted himself and Billie Joe so they were sitting next to each other on the bathroom floor. He grabbed a hold of Billie Joe’s hard-on as Billie Joe did the same to him. The three band mates spent the time to organize themselves so they were all pumping at the same time and pattern. Tré watched Mike’s hand jerk upwards on Billie Joe’s dick and groaned, his come spilling over his hand and torso.

Billie Joe saw this and threw his head back, his body tensing up before he released himself all over Mike’s hand. And of course, as chain reactions often do, this sent Mike toppling over the edge and he too succumbed to orgasm.

When Mike regained his composure, he blew a kiss to Tré and leaned forward to switch the webcam off. Tré quickly cleaned himself up and switched his cam off as well. Mike cleaned up and got dressed, leaving Billie Joe speechless on his bathroom floor.

Tré Fucking Cool has signed out.
2Dolla Bill has signed out.




Rifinito.
---
Hey everybody. I, uh, wow. It's good to be back. Even though it's not for good.
I just, I came on and was going through my memories, reading my old stuff, reading some of your guys' new stuff... and I missed it.
So I just whipped this up quickly, clearly it's not my best, but it's late and I need to get to sleep, but I needed to post something first.
Tell me what you think. I've missed you guys.

Current Mood: nostalgic

Title: It Happens To Everyone.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Mike/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike discovers something terribly wrong.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername and jimmy_tinsel because they are my wonderful wifeys and because of the reason stated at the end of this oneshot.






“Are you gonna’ bleach your hair again, Mike?” Tré asked casually, twirling spaghetti around his fork and then slurping the noodles in messily.

“No,” Mike ran his fingers through his hair, “I think I like having my natural color back. What do you think?”

Tré dropped his fork and put his hands up in surrender, “Hey man, I’m not about to check you out.”

“I didn’t say ‘check me out’, I said ‘what do you think about my hair?’ There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, well that sentence is screaming ‘I’m a fag, check me out.’ Although, honestly, I like your natural color better.”

“Thanks, dickhead. I appreciate your making a giant scene in a restaurant just answer me.”

Tré looked at the nearest table before whispering harshly, “I didn’t ask you to check me out. You’re the one who made a scene.”

“Just eat your spaghetti, Tré.”

Tré happily obliged and continued slurping up noodles. The sauce splattered everywhere on the tablecloth and Tré’s face. In fact, Mike noticed, it almost looked like blood splattered across a sheet of golden fabric.

----

Tré pulled into Mike’s driveway and killed the engine, “You mind if I just sleep here tonight. It’s so fucking late an-“

“You don’t need an excuse. You just need to at least wear boxers.”

Tré heaved a big sigh, “Deal.”

“Oh hell, Tré, it’s not that big of a deal to wear a piece of fabric around your… your… package.”

“I feel confined, you know that, Mikey.” Tré answered, ruffling the bassist’s hair and getting out of his SUV. Mike chuckled and shut his car door, pulling his keys out of his pocket. They walked up to the front door and stood idly while Mike tried to find the proper key.

He held a key out, “No.” Then another, “Nope.” One more, “Got it.” He wore a proud smile as he popped the key in and turned it, the door swinging open. Tré shook his head and followed Mike into the empty home. Mike tossed his keys and wallet on the counter as he passed by, making his way to the bedroom.

Tré walked along next to Mike looking blankly at the pictures of Stella lining the hallway. She was such a cute kid and Tré smiled at how proudly she was displayed throughout Mike’s home. But would he toss away his protection of this little girl to get something more?

“I’m just gonna’ change quick… Make yourself comfortable.” Mike said.

Tré nodded, “Will do.” He crawled into the bed as Mike collected a t-shirt and pajama pants. Mike walked past into the bathroom and flicked on the light. Tré snuggled into the bed and listened to the rustle of Mike’s clothes hitting the floor and his pajamas being put on. He could hear a drawer open and a small sigh escape Mike’s lips.

“Oh my fucking God! No!”

Tré leapt out of bed, “What’s wrong, Mike?”

“Fuck no! Tré!”

“What, Mike?” Tré called, rushing to the bathroom entrance where he found Mike staring at himself vacantly in the mirror. Tré placed his hand lightly on Mike’s shoulder, “What’s wrong, Mike?”

Mike’s mouth opened slowly and then closed, opened, closed, opened, “I’m… Tré… I.”

“What?”

“I have… have… I have gray hair coming in. Oh my God!”

“Oh, oh, Mike. I thought you were like… having a heart attack. Fuck, Mike, it’s just some gray hairs, you’ll be okay.”

“It means I’m getting old, Tré. I’m getting old.”

“No, Mike, you’re not old.” Tré whispered, placing his hands on either side of Mike’s face and looking into his eyes, “Gray hair doesn’t mean you’re getting old. People get gray hair really early in their lives. As early as their twenties sometimes.”

“Tré, I’m really getting old though.” Mike walked out and sat on his bed, Tré close behind, “Don’t you think we need to slow down? I’ve got gray hair now and I’ve got wrinkles-“

“Laugh lines, not wrinkles.” Tré interjected.

“Laugh lines, whatever. Point is, maybe it’s time we thought about where we are in life. Do you think we need to… to stop?”

“Stop? Stop wha- The band? No, Mike, No. Why would we do that?”

“Because we’re getting old Tré. We’ve doing this for like ever. Maybe we need to shut down and concentrate on our kids and enjoy normal life before it’s gone.”

“Mike, we’ll never have a “normal” life. We gave that up with our first major hit. We might as well get the most out of it all. And, Mike, we’re not old.”

“Gray hair, Tré. Not blonde, gray.”

“I heard you, Mike. Gray.” Tré assured, grabbing Mike’s hand and squeezing it.

Mike flopped back onto his bed and sighed overdramatically, “What am I going to do?”

Tré chuckled, “You’re so cute when you overreact.” And just as soon as the words left his lips, his hand was covering his mouth.

“What did you just say?” Mike asked slowly.

“I, uh-“

“Did you just say that I was… cute?”

“Uhm, I-“

“Dude! You called me cute!” Mike roared with laughter.

Tré hit his side, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Dude, do you realize what you just said?”

Tré blushed furiously, “Yeah. But Mike,” Tré laid down next to Mike and turned to face him, “You did ask me to check you out earlier.”

“I did not.” Mike weakly protested.

Tré turned away, “Oh, okay. I misread you. My bad, Mike, good night.”

Mike caught his shoulder and turned him back over, “No. I mean, I didn’t actually ask you to check me out, but that doesn’t mean that you,” he licked his suddenly dry lips, “that you can’t.”

Tré smiled, “I know it would weird you out. I’m tired, let’s hit the sack, yeah?”

Mike barely let disappointment cross his face, “Yeah.” Mike turned and flicked the light off. He crawled under the cool sheets and lightly sighed, slowly closing his eyes. He couldn’t sleep though, because he noted that Tré never moved positions. He was still atop the blankets and Mike could clearly see the moon reflecting in the drummer’s eyes, except, that is, when he blinked.

“I wasn’t serious.” Tré said quietly, “About sleeping, I mean.”

Mike paused before turning the light back on, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Tré scooted up higher on the bed so he was even with the lanky bassist, “Good. ‘Cause I did.”

Hands were intertwined. Slightly chapped lips crushed together. Clothes were shed. Love was made.

Afterwards, Mike turned out the light and yawned, “Tré. We made a deal.”

“What deal?”

“Put your boxers back on.”

“But we just had sex!”

“So?”

“How can we have sex and you still need me to wear my boxers. Dude, my dick was inside of you.”

“Please, Tré. I just… I don’t want to find… your… your… hairs in my sheets a few days later.”

“Understood.” Tré chuckled, reaching around and grabbing his discarded garment.



Rifinito.
---
I regret to inform you that this will be my last slash for a little while. Probably not permanently, but it is of course possible.
I've been sliding away from slash and I've been itching to dabble back in the Het. side of my writing again.
I hope to either come back for a little while later on or maybe find a way to have time for both Het. and slash.
I'll still read and comment, but I will rarely, if ever, post anything. At least for a little bit.
I don't know if/when I'll return to writing, but I hope it's soon... I've really grown attached to you guys.
I didn't want to just altogether stop writing and not tell you all, so I found it best to let you know at the end of this oneshot I've been working on for awhile.
If any of you want my contact info or are interested in reading my Het. fics, let me know in a comment and I'll drop you the proper contact details.
Thank you for reading thus far, and I hope that I'll make it back around very soon to start writing a little again.
Who knows, maybe if you beg enough, I'll find a way to do both.

If you're ever looking for my writing, remember it's all in my memories under "My Work".

Current Mood: sad

Title: Letting Go.
Author: Seven.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike.
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Word Count: 100 words.
Notes: Written for challenge "Congratulations" on ComingClean.





Mike straightened Billie Joe’s tie solemnly and backed away, “Looks good.” He mumbled.

Billie Joe turned and glanced in a mirror, “Hey, thanks man.” He turned back to his best friend, putting his hand on his shoulder, gently shaking it, “It means a lot to me.”

Mike nodded and walked across the room to take a drink of water. Billie Joe followed him, “I know you’re mad. But I had to get married. You and I could, could never be.”

Mike let a silent tear fall, “I know.”

Billie Joe leaned forward and kissed him gently.

Mike pulled away, “Congratulations.”


---
Yes? No? I wrote it pretty fast...

Current Mood: nostalgic

Title: It's Not Knowing What We Could've Been, What We Should've Been.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: "It’s knowing that some day you’re going to crumble into the dirt beneath your feet and never get pieced back together."
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and for leaving me a skittle comment on Myspace. jimmy_tinsel because she's also my wifey and she's purty cool.




It’s the feeling of fuck I’m gonna’ die here combined with you’re killing me, really that gets your heart pumping. It’s knowing that some day you’re going to crumble into the dirt beneath your feet and never get pieced back together. It’s facing the death of someone you love the most and realizing that the paperboy, that old lady next door, or you could be the next one to go.

Billie Joe knows this already. Because not only have Adrienne and the boys been killed, but the old lady next door had a heart attack and that paperboy? Well, let’s just say he didn’t look both ways before crossing the street last week. And now Billie Joe’s trembling with the thought of shit I’m next on the hit list. He scratches his head idly and then cries. He melts into a big puddle of tough punk rock singer on the floor of his living room and he just cries.

He shoves his tears and gasping breaths into the carpeting under his face. And to be honest, he’s crying so hard that his mouth is open and a little bit of drool is puddling underneath him. His phone rings and he sits up, wiping at his mouth and stares blankly across the room. The phone rings again and he blinks once, twice, three times before burying his face on a seat cushion of the couch. The phone rings a third time and then clicks when the answering machine picks it up. Billie Joe hesitates and listens for a familiar voice, but in the end whoever it was hung up with a click.

The vocalist gets up slowly, his legs are a bit shaky after all, and walks into the kitchen, his hands balled into fists clenching around his t-shirt. He goes to make coffee, but his stomach turns at the thought so he settles for orange juice. But after a few drinks of that, his stomach clenches around the acidy juice and heaves upwards. He gags on the sensation and decides that he didn’t really want a drink anyways. He dumps the remainder of the orange juice into the sink and glances around the empty house with frightful eyes.

This is how he decides that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So he goes to Tré’s house because, well, Tré has good booze and even better pot stashed away and Billie Joe is well aware of this. He lets himself in to the quiet house and wanders to the guest room Tré has. It wouldn’t be the first time Tré found Billie Joe in there unannounced, so he figures it’s okay to stay without asking.

After crawling into the bed, he hears… noises… and they scare him a little. He’s not sure what they are, some sort of groaning or growling. Yes, growling, like that of the hungry wolf in the closet about to devour Billie Joe in one big, painful bite. He jumps out of bed and runs across the floor on sock-padded feet. He skids to a halt and whips the door open, creeping to the closed door of Tré’s bedroom. He listens for sounds signaling Tré was awake, but couldn’t hear anything over that goddamn wolf that was right behind him.

He presses the door open and there’s the source of the growling and groaning. His eyes expand and double in size and he can’t look away. It’s like a car accident, you don’t want to see it, but obviously you stare. And then he’s crying again because why the hell wouldn’t they tell me they were fucking and I wanted to tell him I loved him tonight feelings were creeping up his throat.

And they stop. Tré looks at the door and regrets it all. He damns whoever decided to bring Billie Joe to his house on a night when it was just a quick fuck with Mike. Billie Joe crumples on the floor again and cries into his palms. Mike and Tré quickly replace their boxers and rush to his side, helping up and getting him to sit on the bed. He idly plays with the bed sheets and shifts around uncomfortably.

And Tré talks. He tells Billie Joe it isn’t a relationship, they’re just horny. He tells him that they just get off and Mike leaves. Tré doesn’t know why he’s trying to protect Billie Joe with lies; he doesn’t know the feelings Billie Joe has for him. He just feels the need to protect the raven-haired man and cushion him.

Then it’s Mike’s turn to talk. Mike tells them both he feels used and betrayed. He needs time to think, and maybe they shouldn’t be Green Day anymore. Billie Joe feels more panic rise in his chest and he claws at Mike’s arm, begging him to stay. Mike quickly, very quickly, complies and calms his best friend down. He assures his band mates he won’t leave, but still points out that he’s not some boy-toy to be thrown around.

Billie Joe falls asleep, there in Tré’s bed, because really, he’s wiped out. He hasn’t slept decently since four months ago. Since they were killed. And Mike understands when Tré says it would be best if he left and went home. So he leaves and Tré comes back, sliding into bed next to the mop of onyx hair. He pulls the covers up over their bodies, wraps his arm around the frail waist, places a kiss on pouty lips, and drifts off to sleep.

It’s facing the death of someone you love the most and realizing that the paperboy, that old lady next door, or you could be the next one to go.

Billie Joe was the next one to go. But until the next morning, nobody needed to know that.



Rifinito.
---
Aw God. I pretty much cried during this. It really just came to me and fucking flowed right out of me. I've never, ever written anything so easily before. I really hope you guys liked it.
Comments are the sex.

Current Mood: exhausted

Title: Whatsername.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction. Credit to Green Day for the song "Whatsername".
Summary: The real story behind the song. Once again.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and making me write. jimmy_tinsel because she's also my wifey and she's purty cool. Plus, she forced me to post this, so give her some thanks too. =]






Thought I ran into you down on the street...

Billie Joe rushed down the busy New York sidewalk, bumping into grumpy citizens all along the way. He ignored the strings of curses that filled the chilly air and kept his concentration on the woman approximately thirty feet ahead of him. Her dark hair and almond eyes had caught his attention from the second he spotted her. She had made eye contact only to break it and turn away, bustling down the street trying to blend in with everyone else.

Billie Joe was now only a few steps behind her stride, and catching up. He reached out to grab her sleeve but found his hand went through her, like a morning fog. He frantically tried to grasp the wool of her sweater but couldn't even feel it against his fingertips. His eyes flickered around at the by passers but not one of them noticed. It was as if he were a ghost; nonexistent to the world.

Then it turned out to only be a dream.

"Adrienne!" He cried out, his eyes flying open. His whole body was trembling and the sheets around him were saturated with his sweat. He was clawing gently at the mattress, trying to regulate his ragged breaths.

"Billie Joe? Bill, answer me."

He whipped his head to the familiar voice; his olive eyes wide and sharp, "Wh-who are you?"

"Bill, it's me. It's me, Mike."

"M-mike? Oh God, Mike. It was awful."

"What Bill, what was awful?" Mike asked calmly, searching his friend's eyes for an answer.

"Sh-she was there... and then she wasn't. Well, she was, but she wasn't... she wasn't... real."

"Who was there?"

"Adrienne, Mike. Adrienne. She was li-like a-a ghost or somethin'."

"Hush, man. It was just, like, a dream or something."

"But it didn't feel like it. It didn't feel like anything. She wasn't like... real, Mike."

"C'mere." Mike whispered, holding Billie Joe to his chest and rocking him softly until he fell into a light sleep. Mike laid him back down on his side of the bed and turned his back to the front man, dozing off himself.

I made a point to burn all of the photographs...

"Billie Joe! What the hell are you doing? Stop!" Mike cried out at the singer. He ran up to him and pulled him back, the heat from the flames licking at his eyes, "What are you doing, man?"

Billie Joe's eyes welled up with tears, "I-I'm sorry, Mike. I needed to- to get rid of her. I needed to kill her."

"What are you talking about, Bill? All you're doing is burning some pictures-"

"No. No, Mike. I'm... killing her."

"You don't mean that. Go inside, let me put this out." Mike soothed him. Billie Joe nodded feebly and bit his lip. He turned and sauntered back into the house.

"Well I'll be... he started a regular ol' wildfire." Mike mumbled, grabbing the hose and drenching the ashes.

She went away and than I took a different path.

"She's really gone, isn't she?" Billie Joe asked Mike, curling up into his side on the couch.

Mike frowned, "Yeah, Bill. She's really gone."

Billie Joe sniffed and nodded, "I'm kinda' glad she did."

"What? Why?"

"Now I know I love you."

Mike smiled, "S'bout time you came around Billie Joe Armstrong. I love you too."

"I know." Billie Joe answered, receiving a kiss on the head from his bassist.

I remember the face, but I can't recall the name...

Mike found Billie Joe sitting on the foot of the bed fingering an old photograph. He braced himself for the possibility of a breakdown. He let his fingers ghost over the front man’s shoulder.

Billie Joe jumped before looking up at Mike, "Wh-who is she?" he asked, his fingers tracing her jaw line, "I recognize her b-but, dammit Mike, who is she?"

"That's Adrienne, Bill. The week you met her. Don't you remember?"

Billie Joe's eyes watered, "Dammit Mike, I can't remember her. Not now, not ever."

"Hush. You should never forget her. You need to keep her in your mind and," he poked Billie Joe's chest, "In your heart."

"I don't want her there."

Now I wonder how Whatsername has been...

"Has she talked to you, Mike?"

"Has who talked to me?"

"That girl. In the picture on the mantle. The one standing next to me." Billie Joe answered quietly.

"No, Bill. I haven't talked to her since you moved in with me."

"Do you have her number?"

"Why?"

Billie Joe looked so sincere, "Maybe you should call her."

Mike smiled a little at Billie Joe's innocence. It was clear Billie Joe still felt for Adrienne, but how could he all around forget her name, like she never existed. They had slipped from a place where anything similar to Adrienne sent Billie Joe into a fit of sobs to a place where he couldn't remember a thing about her, still keeping her in his heart.

Seems that she disappeared without a trace...

"Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah, Bill?"

"Are we missing a picture from the mantle... or is that just me?"

Mike had taken the picture of Billie Joe and Adrienne down in hopes of easing her memory away. Mike began to debate his answer, "I'm not sure, Bill. Maybe we need a picture of you and I up there to fill the void."

"Yeah. Maybe we do." Billie Joe responded, taking his lover's hand into his own. Mike smiled and leaned down to place a small kiss on the porcelain skin of his best friend's cheek.

Did she ever marry old what's his face...

Mike glanced through the morning paper casually, waiting for Billie Joe to wake up. He browsed through sports and money with less then no interest. What caught his eyes was a new picture in the engagement section. Bryan Covner and Adrienne Nesser. Below it, a color picture of the radiant Adrienne and a man with brown hair and blue eyes. Of course, the famous Bryan.

"Dammit." Mike mumbled, quickly crumpling the paper up and throwing it in the trash bin. He brushed his hands off and turned around.

"Why'd ya' throw that away?" Billie Joe asked curiously, "I haven't read it yet."

"Oh, sorry, Bill. I spilled some coffee on it. Can't read it worth shit now."

"Oh." Billie Joe responded, grabbing a mug and filling it with steaming, hot coffee.

"Listen, Bill," Mike began, shrugging his jacket on, "I need to run to the store and get us some grub. I'll be right back, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Billie Joe answered quietly. Mike's lips straightened and he walked out the door, glad he got the paper away fast enough. Billie Joe, however, wasn't dense and immediately went to the trash bin after he saw Mike pull out. There was only one page in there and he slowly uncrumpled it.

Bryan Covner and Adrienne Nesser.

Billie Joe looked up at the mantle where a picture of him and Mike now stood.

"Adrienne."

I made a point to burn all of the photographs...

Billie Joe tore the paper into pieces and piled them up in the sink. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter.

"You're not coming back this time." He mumbled, lighting the paper on fire. He leaned against the counter and watched it burn, the flames reflecting in his olive eyes. Billie Joe continued to stare, even when all that remained was hot ash.

Mike walked in and Billie Joe slowly looked up, "Not coming back this time." he whispered, and went into the bedroom.

The door closed and Mike sighed, dropping the grocery bags, and walked to the sink. "Aw Jesus, Bill." he mumbled, turning on the water and rinsing down the ashes. He put the groceries away and threw out the bags. He slowly walked down to the bedroom and tapped on the door.

She went away and then I took a different path...

"Bill?" He murmured, carefully pushing the door open, "Jesus, Bill, what did ya' burn this time?" Mike asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"I don't know who the hell she is but I see her every fucking night."

"What do you mean, Billie Joe?" Mike answered, sitting next tot he lead singer and rubbing his knee.

"I mean, I go to sleep, right? But I see her, then, in this city. And I'm like chasing her and then I can't touch her 'cause I'm not real or something. Then I wake up. H-her name is like..."

"Adrienne." Mike finished.

"Do you dream about her too, Mike?"

"No, Billie. Adrienne was your wife."

I remember the face, but I can't recall the name...

"M-my wife?" Billie Joe stammered, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean you were married to her. You divorced about seven months ago."

"You're a liar." Billie Joe stated, swiftly getting up and leaving.

Mike sighed, "Bill? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Tré’s. Don't come for me."

Now I wonder how Whatsername has been...

Billie Joe pounded on Tré's door, "Tré! Tré, get the fuck out here!"

"The door opened, revealing a completely pissed Tré, "God damn it, Billie Joe. What's your problem?"

"Mike lied to me. Why would he lie to me?"

Tré instantly thought Billie Joe found out that they had been hiding Adrienne's memory. He let Billie Joe in, "C'mon. Let's talk about it."

"He told me I was married, Tré. To some chick. Her name was Adrienne. He said we divorced seven months ago. Why would he lie about something like that Tré? Why?"

"Shit." Tré mumbled under his breath, "Billie Joe, he isn't lying. You were married to Adrienne. You did get a divorce."

"Why are you all lying to me? Why are you lying?"

"Billie Joe." Tré stated sternly, "I am not lying to you. Mike is not lying to you. How could you think that?"

"Prove it."

"I will."

Remember, whatever. It seems like forever ago.
Remember, whatever. It seems like forever ago...

Tré had hastily called Mike and told him to come over and bring "All those boxes". His eyes had shifted to a confused and tear-stained Billie Joe.

"You’re lying to me." Billie Joe had mouthed to him. Tré closed his eyes and turned away in frustration.

----

Mike walked in the door and went to Tré, asking him to help carry in "All those boxes". Billie Joe scrunched up his nose at them and continued to sip his room-temperature beer.

Soon a few boxes had been laid out in front of the singer. Mike and Tré sat down on either side of him, making the height of the couch drop considerably.

"Bill, you need to look through these. It's important." Mike nudged him gently, "Go on."

Billie Joe reached forward to the box on the left. He pulled it towards himself and slowly opened it. He gasped when he saw a veil and some dried bridal flowers. He pulled them out and shuffled through old wedding pictures. Memories flooded him and he pushed it away.

He didn't hesitate to grab the second box and open it. He was met with the sight of baby pictures and infant clothes. He glanced up at Mike, his eyes searching Mike's for an answer.

Mike tired to smile, "Joey and Jakob." He said, pointing to each picture, "Your sons. Surely you remember them?"

Billie Joe's lip quivered and he shook his head, "Not really, Mike. Not really." He pulled some of the clothes out and held them to his nose, inhaling a stream of scent, "Joey was the oldest, and Jakob the youngest."

Mike nodded.

The regrets are useless in my mind,
She's in my head I must confess,
The regrets are useless in my mind,
She's in my head from so long ago...

"Mike?"

"Yeah, Bill?"

"I love you."

Mike grinned and kissed him, "I love you too."

"Can we go home? I just want to th-think and maybe sleep."

Tré nodded at Mike, "Head home you guys. I'm just gonna' pack all this shit up."

Mike nodded and helped Billie Joe up, leading him to the car.

"M-my car..." Billie Joe said.

"We'll get it later. C'mon, man." Mike answered, helping him into the passenger seat. Mike walked around to the other side and got in. He started up the car and pulled out on the road.

"I miss her." Billie Joe whispered, just barely audible over the music.

Mike turned down the music, "Yeah? Wanna' talk about it?"

Billie Joe shook his head, "Nope."

When they got home, Billie Joe went straight to the bathroom. He locked the door and slumped down on the floor. He just needed to think.

Mike knocked softly, "Hey man, if you're hungry or wanna' talk or something, I'm here. Okay? I'm always here."

Billie Joe looked at the door but didn't say anything. He nodded, even though Mike couldn't see it and buried his face in his hands. 'Why couldn't I remember her? Or my kids... why can't I remember my own kids? Why did they keep this all secret? It's not fucking fair. Not fucking fair.'

Billie Joe got up and threw his fist into the mirror. It shattered at the impact, shards of glass digging into his fingers. He yelped quietly and threw the door open, marching out into the hallway and to the living room where he figured Mike to be.

Mike looked up from what was left of the paper and smiled kindly, 'Hey, man. Feeling better?" Billie Joe nodded and sat down next to him, "Okay, well, you want to talk about it?" Billie Joe shook his head. Mike nodded and continued reading.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Mike sighed, "Billie Joe, after she left you went downhill. You were on drugs and wasted. It pretty much risked our careers. We had to tell press that you were extremely ill, depressed even, because of Adrienne's leaving. It was awful, Bill. Then all those drugs and booze finally made you forget. We didn't want it to happen again, Bill. You were happy again."

"I want..."

"What do you want?"

"I want to... to see my kids. My sons. Please."

Mike's eyes watered, "Billie Joe, Adrienne won't let you. When you got into the drugs and shit she was concerned for the boys. That you would be a bad influence, or that you would get angry. She told me you couldn't... ever."

Billie Joe's lip quivered, “Help me forget them, Mike. I wanna' forget."

Mike smiled and led Billie Joe to the bedroom.

And in the darkest night,
If my memory serves me right,
I'll never turn back time,
Forgetting you, but not the time...

Billie Joe's lips ghosted over Mike's as they lay next to each other in bed. Sweat rolled down their chests and onto the wrinkled sheets. Mike panted a little and turned his head towards Billie Joe. A lump rose in his throat.

"I love you. You're absolutely amazing."

Billie Joe grinned, "I love you too. I just wish that I kne-"

Mike covered his mouth with his hand, "No. Don't say it. Let's leave it perfect for the rest of tonight."

Billie Joe nodded. Mike slowly drifted off to sleep. Billie Joe sighed and closed his eyes. All he could see was her face. Her kind, almond eyes and dark, curly hair. Flushed cheeks and silent moans.

But what the hell was her name?




Rifinito.
----
This was a big one.
Eight fucking pages.
I feel brilliant.
However, this has been complete for well over a month and a half... so I don't really remember it...

Current Mood: cheerful

Title: 80.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction. Credit to Green Day for the song "80".
Summary: The real story behind the song.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and making me write. jimmy_tinsel because she's also my wifey and she's purty cool.





My mental stability has reached its bitter end
And all my senses are coming unglued
Is there any cure for this disease someone called love
Not as long as there are boys girls like you.

Everything he she does questions my mental health
It makes me lose control
I just can't trust myself.

If anyone can hear me slap some sense into me
But you turn your head and I end up talking to myself
Anxiety has got me strung out and frustrated
So I lose my head or I bang it up against a wall.


Billie Joe waited as Mike read the scribbled words on the paper. He tapped his fingers absent-mindedly and looked everywhere, but at Mike's face.

"It's good. I thought it was about a guy 'cause you had boys and stuff but then it ended up about Adrienne."

"You're not supposed to read the crossed out words." Billie Joe mumbled quietly.

"Well, they're there. How can I not?"

"Still. It's not about Adie though... I just did that because we can't release a gay song. It could ruin us."

"What's it about then?" Mike asked. Billie Joe was shocked that Mike couldn't tell.


Sometimes I wonder if I should be left alone
And lock myself up in a padded room
I'd sit and spew my guts out to the open air
No one wants to hear a drunken fool.

Everything he she does questions my mental health
It makes me lose control
I just can't trust myself.

If anyone can hear me slap some sense into me
But you turn your head and I end up talking to myself
Anxiety has got me strung out and frustrated
So I lose my head or I bang it up against a wall.


Billie Joe sat patiently in the truck while Mike looked under the hood. His swearing could be faintly heard from inside, but Billie Joe paid no mind to it.

The door swung open and Mike got in, "We're screwed. I don't even know where we are."

"Interstate 80." Billie Joe said, "That's all I remember. Do we have to sleep in here 'til morning then?"

"Yeah, I think so. I ain't got any blankets though."

"Oh. Well, that's okay." Billie Joe said as they both climbed into the back seat. Mike laid down and motioned for Billie Joe to get on top of him.

"I'm bigger." Mike explained when Billie Joe perked an eyebrow at him. This seemed enough for Billie Joe and he gently laid down on top of his best friend. His head rested on Mike's chest and Mike's steady heartbeat started to lull him to sleep.

Mike sighed and bit his lip. In one swift motion he leaned down and captured Billie Joe's lips with his own. Billie Joe's eyes sprung open in surprise before he relaxed and melted into the kiss.

Mike's truck had a knack for breaking down on Interstate 80 at night after that.


I do not mind if this goes on
Cause now it seems I'm too far gone
I must admit I enjoy myself
80 please keep taking me away.

Everything he she does questions my mental health
It makes me lose control
I just can't trust myself.

If anyone can hear me slap some sense into me
But you turn your head and I end up talking to myself
Anxiety has got me strung out and frustrated
So I lose my head or I bang it up against a wall.


"So what's it about?" Mike asked again.

Billie Joe snapped out of his thoughts, "Our first kiss. And every time your stupid truck broke down after that."

Mike smiled, "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."



Rifinito.
----
Heyy, I'm back into the mode of writing some good old oneshots.
I know, it's exciting, I love writing oneshots and I can't wait.
Comments=♥

Current Mood: exhausted

Title: Es Ist Ich Sie Wollen.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Pairing: Mike/Fink.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike finds his imagination to me more vivid than he remembered.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and making me write. jimmy_tinsel because she's who I was talking to when this idea came up. ^_^







Mike looked around his empty bedroom in a fit of terror. Someone was there with him, he knew it, he felt it in his core. There were eyes in this room, following his every shuddering breath, he was sure of this. How could he be wrong about a feeling so strong of fear and of being stalked? It shook in his mind and in his chest, a feeling of danger, a feeling of heat.

He flopped back into a laying position, convincing himself it was just because of that dream, that damn dream that came back every fucking night for the last four months. The one and only dream that haunted him no matter what he was doing, that clawed at his conscious and at his inner soul.

---

“Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“I don’t speak German. What the fuck do you want from me?”

“You know it’s true.” A rough and low voice replied, “It’s true… Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“What’s true?” Mike spat, “What the hell do you want?”

The shadow just laughed in his face and turned, walking, no, gliding away from him. Mike reaches out, and then runs, trying to grasp this figure. He’s scared of it, hates it, but he for some reason he wants it, needs it.

The shadow turns, and he’s right in Mike’s face and all Mike can see is jade. Jade swirling and blinking. Then the jade is gone, and all Mike can see is crimson, a suit of red, and a face of stripes, to offset the fierceness of it’s eyes.

“Who are you?” Mike asked, his voice sounding small and young.

The mass of unruly black hair bobbed a little with the demon’s laughter, “You don’t know me, if that’s what you mean.”

---

Mike let his breathing slow a little. He was being ridiculous; there wasn’t anyone in his room, or in his house even. It was just a dream and nothing more. But why was it so real?

“Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“Who’s there?”

There was a cackle and the radio he had on buzzed before going out. Mike’s head whipped around trying to seek out the intruder.

“Get the fuck out. Get out now.” Mike called into the blackness.

There was a hiss, similar to the sound one would make when in pain, “Surrender to me.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mike hissed violently.

“Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“Stop saying that.” He hollered in frustration, “Please, stop saying that.” He finished in a whisper.

It was then, the devil from his nightmares stepped out of the shadows, flicking the bedroom light on. Mike squinted against the brightness and let his eyes adjust.

“Get up. Get out of bed.” The fiend uttered.

Mike slowly slid out of his bed and settled his feet on the cold, hardwood floor. He stood up, feeling very exposed in just his boxers. The sweat on his chest left a sheen and the devil licked his lips mischievously.

The demon came towards Mike and let his fingers lightly touch the bassist’s shoulder and trail down to his elbow lightly. He looked up and locked eyes with Mike.

Mike glared, “Billie? What the hell? You scared me, man.”

The devil diverted his eyes and crumpled his face, “Billie? I’m not Billie.”

“Dude, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not fucking Billie Joe. I’m Fink.”

“What the hell, Bill? Quit it.”

“I told you. I’m not Billie Joe.”

Mike backed himself against a wall, his hands out in front of him. Fink closed in and let his gloved hands wander Mike’s chest and waist.

“Do you know who I am now, Mike? Have you figured it out?”

Mike trembled beneath the touch of the demon’s hands, “What do you want? I’ll give it to you, just… just leave me alone.”

“I want you to surrender to me. Admit it, es ist ich sie wollen.”

Mike swallowed the lump in his throat, “I surrender.” He mumbled, unsure of what Fink meant.

Fink gripped his wrist and flung him onto the bed, “In actions, not words.” Fink growled, climbing on top of the bassist, “What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss me.” Mike stated. He didn’t know where it came from, but he said it anyways. The words seemed to bubble in his throat, and he tried to swallow them, but they were pulled out, as if hooked by a string.

“That’s right.” Fink said, a smirk on his face. He leaned down into Mike, whose lips were already parted in anticipation. His gloved hands buried themselves in Mike’s bleached hair. Fink pulled away, the black of his lips smeared slightly on his chin and cheek.

“You’re beautiful.” Fink whispered, “With that lipstick smeared along your lips and chin. Gorgeous.” He crooned, cradling Mike’s face with his palm.

Mike’s eyes slid partially closed, and his lips were parted, small breaths escaping his lips. Fink smiled, almost kindly, and titled his head to the side. Mike lazily opened his eyes, the terror still in them.

“You’re in my control now.” Fink whispered, “But don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” He twisted Mike’s hair in between his fingers. Mike whimpered and bit his lip nervously. He had lost all physical control of his body, though not mental.

Fink got up and leaned down, very roughly kissing Mike’s lips. He pulled away and walked to the window. The lights went out and the devil was gone.

Mike sighed and ran his hands through his hair, quickly grabbing his phone and calling Billie Joe. It went through to voicemail, “Dammit, Bill, that wasn’t funny at all.”

He rolled over and bit his lip lightly, slowly drifting off to sleep. He didn’t have that dream for the first time in four months.

----

Mike awoke to Billie Joe tapping his shoulder, “What wasn’t funny, Mike? We you drinking?”

Mike groaned, “Stop playing stupid.” Mike mumbled.

Billie Joe leaned down, “I’m serious.”

Mike sat up and rubbed his eyes grumpily. He spent a good portion of the morning going over, in detail, his reoccurring dream and the night’s events.

Billie Joe chuckled and mussed up Mike’s hair, “You have quite an imagination.”

“It’s real, I swear. I was scared shitless, Bill!”

Billie Joe chuckled and put his leather jacket on, “See ya’ Mike.”

“Bye.” Mike mumbled, grinding his palms into his eyes.

----

Mike woke up in a cold sweat. Something wasn’t right at all. The air seemed heavy… almost like he was in the room again. Mike bolted upright and looked around, reaching over for his bedside lamp. He found it, but ended up knocking it to the ground where it shattered with a crash. His eyes were wide and frightened.

“Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“Shut up, Bill.”

“Es ist ich sie wollen.”

“I know it’s you.” Mike said, getting out of bed and flicking on his light. Sure enough, there stood Billie Joe.

“How’d ya’ know it was me?”

“You were saying wrong. Damn you. Go home.”

“Fine.” Billie Joe murmured. Mike watched him pull out of the driveway before heading back up to his bedroom. He almost screamed when he saw the devil perched on his bed.

“You own best friend doesn’t believe you? How does it feel?”

“H-he believes me. He’s j-just trying to l-loosen me up about it.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, it’s such a pity. He doesn’t believe a word you say.” Fink said, a smirk on his face, “Does is bother you that it’s making the world think you’re crazy?”

“Nobody thinks I’m crazy.”

“Is being crazy so bad when the effect of it is me?” Fink asked, almost cheerily.

“I’m not crazy.”

Fink brushed his lips over Mike’s neck, “If you weren’t crazy… I wouldn’t be here.”



Rifinito.
----
Hmm. I have this liking for Fink/Mike that sprouted all of a sudden.
And I was talking to jimmy_tinsel when I got this brilliant idea.
<3
Comments make me happy.

Current Mood: sore

Title: Skittles: Taste The Rainbow.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Mike/Adam Lazzara [[Taking Back Sunday]].
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike and Adam find each other in a bar and catch up.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and making me write. jimmy_tinsel because she's awesome, and she's now my second wifey. I love them both. <3





Mike slowly walked into the bar and quickly ducked into the darkness, not wanting to be recognized. He glanced around and noticed a face he somewhat remembered. He swiftly walked over to the shaded table.

"Adam, right?"

The person looked up, "Yeah- Oh hey, Mike. I haven't talked to you since that one awards thing or whatever."

"I know, it's been a while. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Adam replied, spreading his arm and motioning to the seat across from him. Mike sat down and called for a beer. The night went on and they talked like old friends. Their laughter was ringing through the pub and their smiles were broad. After a few hours, numbers had been exchanged and they were preparing to leave. It was so innocent, the way Adam's hand brushed against Mike's, so accidental, in Mike's eyes.

They paid their tabs and walked out together, making closing comments and both discovering the other hadn't brought a car.

"I'm staying at the Hilton." They both explained at the same time. The alcohol running through their system caused them to both break out in a fit of drunken giggles. Mike stopped laughing first and they walked for another three minutes before Adam stopped laughing and tried to catch his breath.

"What was so funny?" Mike asked.

"What do you mean? I'm not laughing."

"No, you're not... why did you tell me you weren't? I can tell."

"I told you I wasn't? Wasn't what?"

"I don't remember." Mike sighed. Adam sighed louder. Mike coughed. Adam coughed louder. Then, the giggles pursued again, this time leaving Adam rolling on the lobby floor. However, they were soon asked to get to their rooms and Mike was forced to grab Adam's arms and drag him there due to Adam's stubbornness. Mike located Adam's room after Adam gave him directions that took him to the hotel roof, down the first floor and finally to his room. He fished the key out of Adam's pocket while Adam tried to swim across the hotel carpet in the hallway.

"Get in bed." Mike hollered while Adam clawed at the chair.

"I don't want to!"

"Now!" Mike said, prying Adam off the chair and getting him to sit on the bed, "I'm going now. I have to sleep. Good night."

Adam stood up and ran to the door, "Don't leave me!"

Mike rolled his eyes, "My God. Get out of the way."

"No." Adam yelled, stomping his foot, "No way, Jose!"

"It's Mike, not Jose, and let me out."

Adam leaned forward, the alcohol on his breath tingling Mike's nose, "What if I don't want you to go?"

“I, uhm-“

Adam chuckled a little and looked down, “Have you ever been with a guy before?”

Mike’s voce wavered, “I- No. I’m not- I don’t swing that way. I’m straight.”

Adam looked back up smiling, “Being with a guy is like,” Adam pulled away, “Like skittles.”

“Skittles?”

Adam leaned forward and kissed Mike, his tongue begging for access to Mike’s mouth, which he was granted. He pulled away, “Skittles… taste the rainbow.”



Rifinito.
----
My first crossover. I thought it only proper to post this the day after my Taking Back Sunday concert... which was AMAZING.
I met Ben Jorgensen from Armor For Sleep. He's an awesome guy, I took my picture with him and he autographed my shirt. =D

Current Mood: giddy

Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Twelve.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: NC-17, I wouldn't let you down on the last part.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: The conclusion.
Dedications: x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and making me write. jimmy_tinsel because she's awesome, and she keeps me writing... in some very interesting ways... =]
Previous Parts: January., February., March., April., May., June., July., August., September., October., November.







December

----

Shivering—
Grey clouds darken
Mountain snow.
~Michael P. Garofalo, Cuttings

----

Mike moved into Billie Joe’s house on December 3, 2007. Both men were up bright and early to make the move, clearly happy with large smiles on their faces. Tré refused to wake up at “the ass-crack of dawn” to help because it was way too fucking early, as he politely put it.

Around four, the two lovers sat down on their couch with two cold beers and clinked them together. Billie Joe carefully laced his hand with Mike’s and sighed peacefully. Mike smiled at him and he smiled in return, thankful for the peaceful feeling of content.

“Sex?” Mike whispered.

Billie Joe grinned a little, “I’m male. Your sex?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed playfully, “Male, but-“

“Right. I knew that.”

“But I meant-“

Billie Joe cut him off with a kiss. He pushed Mike backwards onto the couch and crawled on top of him. He took both beers and set them aside before plunging his hands into Mike’s shirt. He tore it off and tossed it aside. He kissed across Mike’s jaw and down to his neck. He sucked it and nipped a little, leaving a purple blotch behind.

“You want me to take you pants off or do you want to do it yourself?” he purred.

“I-I got it.” Mike mumbled almost incoherently, reaching down and sliding his jeans off. Billie Joe grinned and slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

Peeling it off, he got an idea, “How about we do this somewhere more… exotic. More fun.”

Mike was panting, “L-like where?”

Billie Joe tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Like… in the walk-in closet.”

“That’s really not to exotic, Bill.”

“Well, we’ve done it in the living room, car, dining room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, base-“

“Okay, okay, closet it is, I guess…”

Billie Joe smiled and grabbed Mike’s hand dragging him in that direction. All the while, he peeled of articles of clothing and left a trail of them through the house. The made it to the closet and Billie Joe shut the door, holding them inside. He let his fingers skim over Mike’s skin lightly, taking in all the contours of the bassist’s body.

“Bill, fuck me. Please fuck me.”

“Really? You think I should?”

“Fuck yes.” Mike all but growled, lunging forward and attacking Billie Joe’s mouth. Billie Joe put his hands on Mike’s shoulders and shoved him away and down on the carpeted floor. He spit in his hand and coated his throbbing cock.

“You want me to prep you?” He asked, holding his fingers up.

“N-no time. J-just do it.”
Billie Joe chuckled through his lust and pushed into Mike slowly. Mike’s face screwed up at first, and Billie Joe kept it slow until Mike’s face relaxed a little. It was then that he began thrusting in and out of Mike as fast as he could. Mike’s shaky hands reach forward and grabbed onto Billie Joe’s hips, leaving little pink moons in their wake.

Billie Joe reached down and grabbed Mike’s pulsing hard-on. He pumped it in time with himself, swiping his thumb over the slit and collecting precome to use as lubrication.

“Come with me, Mike. Please, come with me.” Billie Joe prodded, holding out until Mike moaned out his name. He rode over the edge, coming inside of Mike. He felt Mike’s own seed coat his hand just before he collapsed.

When they came off their highs, they were still breathing heavily. Billie Joe grabbed a towel from the shelf and cleaned his hand off before tossing it in a pile of his dirty clothes. He started grabbing clothing and getting dressed, tossing some random clothing to Mike as well.

They got up and walked back to the living room. Mike picked up their beers and they finished them off. Mike sat down on the TV and patted the spot next to him. Billie Joe sat down, but as soon as he relaxed the phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” Billie Joe mumbled, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

Mike nodded and turned the TV on. An old rerun of “Friends” was on and he just left it. He was impressed with the fact that the show could still make him laugh after all those years. After watching one and a half episodes, Billie Joe walked back out and turned off the TV.

“That was Adrienne. She doesn’t want a divorce. She’s coming back to California to sort things out. Her flight leaves in three days.”



Rifinito.
----
It's all done! -sobs-
It was a part of me, and I'm sad to see it end. But it had to be done, a year is only so long.
Comment me, loves. Please.

Current Mood: depressed

Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Eleven.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré helps Billie Joe talk through his feelings.
Dedications: jimmy_tinsel because she's awesome, and she keeps me writing. x0x_whatsername for being my wifey and also making me write.
Previous Parts: January., February., March., April., May., June., July., August., September., October.







November

----

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence,
Listening to silence.
~Thomas Hood, Ode: Autumn, 1827

----

Billie Joe stood idly on the back deck of his now empty house. The sun was just rising and Billie Joe hadn’t slept yet. The house was hauntingly quiet with no one else there and it made his insomnia even worse. The dew on the grass sparkled a little bit as the misty fog began to rise. Billie Joe sighed and walked into the house and picked up the phone.

After making a quick call, he stood at the front door and waited. Within ten minutes, the familiar SUV pulled into his driveway and rather sleepy looking drummer walked up to the door. Billie Joe opened it and let him in, not saying anything.

Tré sat down on the couch and rubbed his eye, “What’s up, Bill?”

Billie Joe sat down next to Tré silently. He leaned over buried his head in Tré’s chest and started crying. Tré withdrew at first, but followed through by putting his arms around the front man. He titled back so they were lying on the couch. Billie Joe adhered to Tré’s old Clash shirt and sobbed. Tré frowned a little and drew little patterns of stars, circles, and hearts along Billie Joe’s back.

“Shh. Hey, Billie, it’s okay.” He whispered, “H-hey, Bill. Hush. C’mon, let’s talk about this, man.”

Billie Joe stopped crying, but his breathing was erratic. He was gasping in attempt to get a regular breath pattern. He looked up at Tré, his lips quivering. Tré gently wiped away the eyeliner smudges and tears.

“I don’t know if I did the right thing, Tré.” He said slowly, as if the speaking was new to him.

“Do you love Mike?”

“More than anything.”

“More than Adrienne?”

Billie Joe paused, “I think so.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

Billie Joe nodded a little and sniffed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and lay back down on Tré’s chest. After about ten minutes he finally fell asleep. Tré smiled and began to relax; after all, he’d done this every night for the past three weeks. He sighed a little and let himself doze off.

When Tré woke up Billie Joe wasn’t in the room like usual. He got up and ran his fingers through his hair before stumbling into the kitchen.

He found Billie Joe in there, sitting at the bar. He was sipping a Coke and reading the paper.

“Oh, morning, Tré.”

“Morning, Bill.”

“Wanna’ go get some breakfast?”

Tré looked at the time, “Shit. No, sorry, Bill. I totally forgot I’m meeting A-a girl for breakfast today. I think she’s the one.” Tré winked.

Billie Joe smiled, “You think they’re all “the one”, Tré.”

Tré laughed and grabbed his coat, “See ya’, Billie Joe.”

“Bye, Tré.” Billie Joe said laughing to himself. He leaned across the counter and tried to grab the phone, but his arm was about an inch too short, “Damn phone.” He spat, getting up walking to it. He called Mike up and they planned to meet for breakfast at a McDonald’s.

When Billie Joe got there, he saw Mike sitting in a corner with a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted and worn out. Billie Joe sat down across from him and touched his hand. Mike jumped out of his stupor and locked eyes with the singer.

“I decided it was the right thing to do.” Billie Joe mumbled thoughtfully.

Mike nodded.

Billie Joe sighed and continued, “With the help of Tré, I mean. But he made me see last night… well, early this morning, that I do love you more than Adrienne.

“What time was he there?”

Billie Joe shrugged, “Same as the past three weeks. I call him around 3 A.M., he comes over, I cry, I fall asleep on him on the couch.”

“Is that all you do?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet.” Mike mumbled.

“Mike, I don’t fuck him. He’s on a date with some chick as we speak.”

“I guess. I always thought Tré to be a queer though.” Mike chuckled, “So we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Wanna’ go call Tré eighty millions times during his date?”

“Of course.”



Rifinito.
----
T_T This is the second to last part. -sniffle-
Comment me, loves.

Current Mood: excited

Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Ten.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: The Green Day guys take a needed vacation.
Dedications: jimmy_tinsel for reminding me of my writing tasks at hand through MSN for practically half the day. =]
Previous Parts: January., February., March., April., May., June., July., August., September.






October

----

Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.
~Elizabeth Lawrence

----

Mike sighed and turned his head towards Tré, “You know, I never thought that things would get better.”

“Better? This is better?” Tré asked quietly, “Billie Joe is inside the cabin crying. Adrienne and the kids are in Minnesota to stay. It’s better?”

“Well, yeah.” Mike answered, looking out at the woods, “We’re out here in the quiet. Nobody can bother us for this week and Billie Joe will get better. They aren’t divorced, it’s just separation for now.”

“Mike, are you thinking of anyone besides yourself? What about Adrienne and the boys? What about Billie Joe’s depression?”

“Hey, Tré, let’s pull him out here and just sit.”

Tré sighed and got up, walking into the cabin, “Hey Billie Joe, you wanna’ come sit on the porch with us?”

Billie Joe looked up, his eyeliner leaking down his cheeks, “I don’t know, Tré. It’s hard to sit with Mike right now. It’s hard to look at him because he caused this shit with Adrienne.”

“Come out with us, Bill. I’ll sit in the middle of you guys if you want. Just unwind and relax a little, watch the scenery.”

Billie Joe nodded and stood up slowly. His loose jeans and white t-shirt were wrinkled and completely out of the style he was normally seen in. He slowly followed Tré outside onto the wooden porch and sat in a lawn chair one away from Mike. Tré sat in the one next to Mike and gave him a look. Mike looked away; did Tré actually look mad?

Billie Joe sniffed and rubbed at the dry eyeliner tracks on his cheeks. The skin felt tight from the way his tears evaporated off of them. He reached over and grabbed Tré’s sleeve. Tré frowned and grabbed Billie Joe’s hand, rubbing it comfortingly.

“Look at the leaves.” Billie Joe said almost inaudibly, “They’re gorgeous. It’s like they’re changing right before our eyes.”

Tré nodded slowly, “It is nice. I think I’m gonna’ take a nap.” He said leaning forward to get up. Billie Joe gasped a little and tightened his grip on Tré’s hand.

“You said.” He growled through gritted teeth.

Tré looked at Billie Joe with confidence, “You’ll make it.” He mouthed, getting up and going inside the cabin. Billie Joe looked to his right, away from Mike. He heard rustling and tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Billie Joe, I’m not one hundred percent sure why you’re mad at me, but you haven’t said a word to me since a few days after we talked to Adrienne. I just want us to be happy again. To be us again.”

Billie Joe continued to look out into the woods, “Mike.”

Mike waited for him to continue and when it was obvious he wouldn’t Mike spoke up, “What, Bill?”

Billie Joe turned and looked at him, tears glazing his eyes. He stood up and walked out into the yard. Mike turned and watched him walk around in the grassy yard. Billie Joe turned once and looked at Mike, then went back to pacing around.

Mike threw his hands in the air and then slapped then down at his sides, “Jesus, Bill!” He called out, “What are you doing? The sun is going down, at least come inside… it’s been an hour and a half.”

Billie Joe looked towards the house, but not at Mike. He nodded and mumbled something to himself before walking up to the porch.

Mike moved aside and stood in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Talk to me.” He said softly.

“I love her, Mike. You made her leave. I can’t…” Billie Joe stuttered, “I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Let’s go to bed.” Billie Joe mumbled, breaking loose from Mike and walking inside the cabin. Mike sighed and scratched his head in frustration. What had gotten into Billie Joe?




Rifinito.
----
Oh my. This took a little longer than planned. Hopefully that doesn't happen next time.
Comments=♥

Current Mood: tired

Title: Happy Birthday To Me.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Mike/Tré; Billie Joe/Billie Joe. XD
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: "This birthday is going to suck balls."





This birthday is going to suck balls. It’s guaranteed to be the worst yet. How nice of them to call us up and ship the six of us out to Nebraska for a special concert and interview two days before. Don’t get me wrong, I love the band, but I’d rather be with my family.

At least Mike and Tré have some sympathy for me. They tried to take me out drinking tonight. I give them credit, really I do, but I just didn’t feel like it. Adrienne and the kids called me this morning and it made me tear up a little. I’ve called them five times since. I don’t think I should call them anymore today, they’ll wonder what’s wrong with me.

I never had problems being away from home before, but it normally wasn’t on my birthday either. I turned my head towards the wall I was sharing with Mike and Tré. I swear I heard a moan. One of them must’ve found a girl who was already drunk, lucky bastard. Not that I want to pick up a wasted chick, but at least one of them has someone to bang tonight.

I grinned a little, and walked towards the adjoining door. I might as well have a little fun on my birthday, right? I prayed this chick would scream as soon as she realized they were being watched. And if Mike… or Tré… got mad that I disrupted their fuck for the night, I’d offer them a handjob or something.

I carefully opened the door just an inch or so, and peeked in. I grinned a little when I saw Mike walk through the room with a towel draped around his waist. He tossed a bottle of lube onto the bed and I got ready to look and see what I was dealing with. I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold in my gasp. He was with Tré!?

I slid down and sat on the floor while watching Mike walk across the room. He dropped his towel and crawled across the bed towards Tré. I sighed a little and undid my belt buckle and pants button. I slid my hand under the waistband of my boxers as Tré sat up and smiled at Mike.

Mike lubed himself up and I stuck my hand into my boxers and grabbed my hard-on. I fisted it slowly while watching Mike enter Tré and thrust slowly. The two lovers let sweat trickle onto the sheets and left little pink crescents along each other’s sides.

I bit my lip and did my best to keep quiet. Tré called out Mike’s name and Mike let out a low growl. I knew they were spent and rode over the edge of my orgasm. I wiped my sticky hand off on the inside of my boxers and slowly got up. I glanced in once more to see Mike gently kissing Tré and nuzzling his neck. I carefully shut the door, so as not to make any noise.

On my way to my bed I mumbled, “Happy birthday to me.”



Rifinito.
----
Hmm. This took my four days to write, I just wasn't in the mood. I didn't want it to be forced, but I didn't want to post late. I'm sure you were expecting me to post something as I always do.

Current Mood: confused

Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Nine.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe, Mike, and Adrienne sit down to have a talk.
Previous Parts: January., February., March., April., May., June., July., August.







September

----

September: it was the most beautiful of words; he’d always felt,
Evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.
~Alexander Theroux, 1981

----

Billie Joe sat on the coffee table across from Adrienne while Mike stood awkwardly to the side. He had his hands folded in front of him and was leaning forward on his knees.

“Adrienne, look at me, please.” He said softly.

Adrienne kept her ivory face turned down and away from both of them, her chocolate curls cascading down and covering most of her face. A few silent tears trailed down her flushed cheeks and she inhaled deeply.

“Adrienne, it wasn’t like we planned this against you.” Billie Joe began, “I still love you. I’m not leaving you. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love.”

“Adrienne, you knew we were, well, together before you married Billie Joe. But we said we were never gonna’ do this again. But we did and it just… happened, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to cause you pain like this.”

Adrienne sniffed and looked at Billie Joe, “Is he good? Huh? Is Mike good in bed?”

“Adrienne, I-“

“Tell me, Billie Joe. Does he say your name?” She turned to Mike, “What about Billie Joe? Does he moan your name when he comes? Oh, and who’s on top normally?”

“Adrienne, this is hardly appropriat-“ Mike stammered.

“Oh, this isn’t appropriate, but cheating is? I see.”

Billie Joe squeezed his eyes shut, “For God sake’s, Adrienne. Shut up. Listen to me, I. Still. Love. You. Okay? I don’t love you any less than I did that first night.”

“How big is Mike? Does he fill you up?” Adrienne was trying to keep her angry composure, but was slowly breaking down, “How does it feel to be inside of my husband, Mike? How does it feel?”

Billie Joe reached for her hands and she flinched away, tears falling down her cheeks and dotting her jeans. She broke down and leaned into Billie Joe’s chest. He pulled her tight against himself and buried his nose in her hair. Her breaths were shaky and rattling her frame.

“Hush, Adie. Please, I’m sorry we all got so cross. I never meant for this to happen. But I’m not leaving you; I love you too much to leave you. I just need to know that you’re okay with Mike and I being together.”

“How can I be o-okay with the f-fact that I’m not enough f-for my husband?”

“You’re enough for me, Adrienne-“

“Then why do you go to him? Why do you need him?”

“Adrienne, it’s love. Aren’t you still in love with me like I’m in love with you… and with Mike? Can’t you feel that pull where all you want is to hold me and be with me?”

“Well, yeah, but this isn’t right. It’s not right.”

“Why not Adrienne?” Mike barely whispered.

“When I met Billie Joe, everything was perfect. I fell in love, I was young and… stupid.” She shot, “Very stupid, obviously. And then we got engaged and married. We had Joey. Then Jakob. I never thought any of this would happen.

I always had this perfect life. I had everything all the other girls wanted. I guess I never thought he’d fall for somebody else, Mike, least of all, you. Everything is crumbling.” She sobbed into Billie Joe’s chest, “I love him!”

Tears ran down Billie Joe’s cheek and chin, “I love you too. I never want to lose you. I just want you to be okay with us having a relationship. You’re still my wife and the one I love.”

Adrienne wiped at her mascara-stained face with the back of her hand, “I’ll never be okay with it. Never. I don’t want to know when you guys are together. I wish you never would have told me.”

“Adrienne, you’re my wife. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“I wish you would.” Adrienne whispered, “I’m going to take a bath, I need to relax.”

“Do you want me to run it?”

She shook her head, “No, no. I’ll do it. Please leave me be.”

Billie Joe and Mike nodded as she left the room. Mike sat down on the couch across from Billie Joe and held his hands.

“I guess the worse is over?”

Billie Joe tried to smile, “I guess.”




Rifinito.
----
I think the verse tie-in is a little vague. Basically, I'm taking the part of regret and pulling it into the chapter... in case you didn't get it.
So it was requested I post faster... was this fast enough? XD

Current Mood: energetic

Title: Twelve Months Of Romance, Part Eight.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Billie Joe/Adrienne.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe takes Mike to a secret place and then tells him some news.
Previous Parts:January., February., March., April., May., June., July.





August

----

Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,
Ripening fields lush-bright with promise;
Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing
Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn.
~Michelle L. Thieme, August’s Crown

----

Mike let his fingers glide through Billie Joe’s raven hair slowly. His hair was warm from absorbing sunlight and it felt good on Mike’s fingertips. He carefully plucked a stray piece of grass out and dropped it on the ground. Billie Joe sighed in content and slowly closed his drooping eyelids.

“Billie Joe?”

“Yes, Mike?”

“Where are we?”

Billie Joe smiled, “It’s a secret.”

Mike nodded carefully and sat up. Billie Joe had brought him to a field of grass and wildflowers. Summer’s last heat had brought the vegetation from green to a golden yellow. The color reflected the warmth of the late afternoon light.

A gentle breeze rippled through the meadow and Mike shuddered. It was warm, not cool, as everything seemed to be this afternoon. Billie Joe opened his eyes and looked at Mike’s face, turned upwards towards the sky and trees.

Mike looked down at Billie Joe from the corner of his eye, “When do we have to leave?”

“Never.” Billie Joe whispered, “Never. Let’s stay here forever.”

Mike lazily blinked and leaned down to capture the front man’s lips with his own. Billie Joe snaked his arm around Mike’s neck and pulled himself upright. Their fingers gently clawed at each other’s backs as they sped up their motions. Billie Joe broke away and clumsily unbuckled Mike’s belt. He pulled it out of the loops and tossed it aside while Mike unbuttoned his red shirt. Clothing was tossed aside and strewn randomly through the grasses and flowers until they were both in their boxers.

Mike kissed his lover gently and ran his fingers along Billie Joe’s chest. He carefully let his fingers travel below Billie Joe’s waistband and tugged the boxers down. Billie Joe watched him in careful anticipation. Mike’s lips curled up into a devilish smirk as he slowly circled the singer’s belly button with his finger.

Mike leaned down slowly and took the tip of Billie Joe’s hard-on into his mouth. He carefully swirled his tongue around the head and over the slit. Billie Joe clawed at the grass below him and writhed in pleasure. Mike smiled around his length and bobbed up and down slowly. Billie Joe grabbed the back of Mike’s head and knotted his fingers in the bleached hair.

Mike gently hummed and licked his way around Billie Joe’s shaft. He knew every way to make the front man incoherent. Billie Joe didn’t warn Mike that he was going to come, but he tightened his grip on the bassist’s hair and Mike understood. He swallowed and pulled himself up to kiss Billie Joe.

Mike carefully pulled Billie Joe’s boxers back up and positioned himself over the small body. He propped himself up on his elbow while he traced imaginary shapes across his chest. Billie Joe sighed quietly and then sat up.

“So Tré knows.” Billie Joe whispered.

“Tré knows.” Mike agreed.

“And now,” Billie Joe paused and took a deep breath, “Adie knows.”

“Wh-what?” Mike gasped, “She knows? She knows… How?”

“I told her. Last night. After the kids went to sleep.”

“How,” Mike cleared his throat, “How is she?”

“Well, that’s in the eye of the beholder. She cried… a lot. She hit me a few times, I let her do that, I actually told her too. It made her feel better. Then she let me hug her, and she fell asleep against my chest.”

Mike let out a throaty, “Wow.”

“Yeah, so this morning, I get up and she’s made breakfast and we all sat down and had a normal morning. And when I told her I was going to spend time with you… she said okay and kissed me. Then she told me she loved me. It was like she had no idea again…”

“Oh. This is… a lot to take on. What’s next?”

Billie Joe started pulling his clothes back on, “I don’t know. I go home and find her and the kids gone?”

“Don’t joke about that, Bill.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“So, how was that there blowjob, then?”

Billie Joe laughed, “Pretty good. One problem with it.”

“What?”

“There is grass in places I never thought I’d find it.”

Mike laughed, "Like your hair?"

"Well, yeah. But I was talking about in my ass."


Rifinito.
----
Yes, this is getting near the end... T_T
Keep commenting, it helps. I have two ideas for oneshots that I'll do after this is done.
Then... I might just have another chaptered fic up my sleeve. -cough-

Current Mood: crazy

Okay, I told you guys that I had a bunch of drabbles written. Well, I do, and they built up on me to a massive ammount. So they're alllll here. Spiffy and ready to be read. I ask one thing of you, can you just comment about them on this post? That way I don't have to go through 14 drabbles every time I want to check for comments. That's the result of my laziness and lack of email checking. But I'm sure you guys don't mind that... right? =]


Title: I Knew.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Mike/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré explains what prompted some past actions.
Word Count: 102 Words.

I Knew.



Title: Stopped!
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe and Tré get in an argument over other girls.
Word Count: 92 Words.

Stopped!



Title: When Your Hearts Stops Beating.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Adrienne; Implied!Billie Joe/Mike.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe enjoys some family time until he's interrupted.
Word Count: 99 Words.

When Your Heart Stops Beating.




Title: Little Death.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Warnings: Death... obviously.
Pairing: Implied!Billie Joe/Mike.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe mourns.
Word Count: 110 Words.

Little Death.




Title: A Ring.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Young!Mike/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike and Tré make the commitment of going steady.
Word Count: 61 Words.

A Ring.




Title: All Star.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Young!Billie Joe/Mike.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Ollie finds out about her son's sexuality in one of the worst ways.
Word Count: 118 Words.

All Star.




Title: Devil's Kiss [[Kiss of Death]].
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Fink/Young!Mike.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction. The quote, however, is mine.
Summary: Mike thinks he recognizes Fink because of somebody else.
Word Count: 120 Words.
Notes: My first Fink fic... be nice.

Devil's Kiss [[Kiss of Death]].




Title: Checkmate.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: G.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Billie Joe and Tré play a game of chess, for whatever reason.
Word Count: 147 Words.

Checkmate.




Title: Unnoticed.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike finds out about Bille Joe and Tré's relationship, but in a way he isn't to happy with.
Word Count: 118 Words.

Unnoticed.





Title: Shirts and Skins.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: OT3.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Mike organizes a basketball game.
Word Count: 89 Words.

Shirts and Skins.





Title: Overkill.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Adrienne discovers Billie Joe cheating on her.
Word Count: 87 Words.

Overkill.





Title: Bound.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Mainly Mike/Tré... there is another little one in there though...
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré lets his mind wander to a romantic night... with somebody other than Mike, who he's engaged to.
Word Count: 86 Words.

Bound.





Title: 349012.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Drug abuse. Implied death. This is my first crack fic.
Pairing: Mike/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré gets his hands on a new drug.
Word Count: 209 Words.

349012.



OH MY GOD! I FORGOT MY DEDICATION! -snickers- Yeah, this whole "Drabble Parade" [[XD]] is dedicated to my wonderful wifey, x0x_whatsername

Current Mood: annoyed

Title: 349012.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Drug abuse. Implied death. This is my first crack fic.
Pairing: Mike/Tré.
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré gets his hands on a new drug.
Word Count: 209 Words.





It was a new drug they developed. They told me it was called “349012”. Some laboratory drug with no name, just a serial number. Worse than weed, acid, and cocaine… combined. Now it’s in my hand, a little jar of orange-ish liquid.

----

I took a shot of 349012 carefully, swishing it in my mouth. It was bitter, but it lost taste when the effects took hold.

----

That first week, I fucked ten guys and five chicks. I’d take a shot, take someone into the alley, finish off, and gab another. Every night.
I only had one regular customer.

----

He opened the door and glanced around to make sure nobody was looking before pulling me inside. Clothes were strewn along the hallway, fingers blindly, roughly, roaming flesh. I stopped him.

He looked at me, “Tré?”

“The drug i-is w-wearing off.” I gasped for breath, “Mike, it’s gone. Not now, not now, I need it.”

“What drug? I thought,” Mike swallowed, “I thought you said you needed me.”

I was sweating, “349012. I need 349012. Not you, not now.” Coming off the high was bad. He rubbed my back while I threw up. He stayed by me when I fell asleep. I don’t think I ever woke up.

Current Mood: curious

Title: Bound.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Mainly Mike/Tré... there is another little one in there though...
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: Tré lets his mind wander to a romantic night... with somebody other than Mike, who he's engaged to.
Word Count: 86 Words.




Tré stared longingly at his lover, knowing he could not hold that body or kiss those lips except in privacy. After all, his lover was bound by marriage and he himself was bound by engagement. So he gently kissed Mike’s lips and wiped away all the thoughts of Adrienne’s flushed cheeks and quiet moans that he had caused the night before. No longer would his mind wander to all those tender nights of tracing her delicate curves with his callused fingers.

After all… he’s got Mike.

Current Mood: content