Some details in these
ficlets may be based on fact, but their execution is purely fictional in intent.
Rocky Horror Picture Show
It'd been someone's idea for a road trip slash listening binge
of musicals to get in the right theatrical frame of mind for songwriting. But Billie's
starting to question the motive as Tre removes Mike's copy of Grease from
the stereo and pops in Rocky Horror.
"I fail to see what cross-dressing mad scientists have to do with
the disillusionment of America," Billie says dryly, not looking up from his
West Side Story liner notes.
"They don't. They're just fun." Tre cranks the volume and starts
finger-drumming on the steering wheel.
"O-o-o, Tre's got the hots for Dr. Frank N. Furter!" Mike teases
and reaches over the seat to whack Tre's shoulder.
"Ah, but he's so- delightfully debauched," the young man says
nonchalantly. "Maybe if either of you wore stockings more often-"
Billie giggles and pats Tre's thigh. "Just turn it up, baby boy."
Sweets and Candy
Mike holds the candy bar, by its wrapper, arm's length away. "Man,
I heard these British chocolates are like, pure sugar."
"I know, isn't it awesome?" Tre takes the bar back and unwraps
it, giggling with glee.
"Sure, if you combine that with the country's wonderful dental
"Whatever." The young man now holds half the bar in his teeth,
not biting down. "Shut up and kiss me."
Mike smirks and shakes his head at how goofy Tre looks, but when
two hands grab his cheeks to pull him in, his mouth sliding over the chocolate
and touching Tre's lips, the heady combination of sugar rush and kiss suddenly
isn't so goofy.
"Mmm." Mike bites over his chocolate and pulls away, the sheepish
Lady to Tre's wisecracking Tramp. "Sweet."
"Pure sugar, baby." Tre swallows, then licks his top lip suggestively.
"I think I like how you taste better."
The smells of the burning spliff in the ashtray and alcohol on
their breaths is still incredibly strong, but it's not the most intoxicating drug
in the room.
Billie cups his hands on the young face underneath him, gazing
into crystal eyes, more than a little glassy. Right down to the goofy smile on
his lips, he knows he's sharing the same expression and feelings with Tre.
"Do you feel like you're floating, baby?" Tre asks, a hoarse whisper.
"Like I'm flying." Billie gently places his lips on his
lover's and they take in each other's strong taste, a sensation doing more to their
brains than anything else they can breathe in. They're addicted to each other as
much as any drug, the highs as exhilarating and the withdrawals as painful.
And they don't want it any other way.
He can't remember the last time he's seen Billie this happy-
dancing circles around him like a little kid happy. He knows Billie knows
he's doing the right thing, but-
As if reading his mind, Billie pipes in, "Dude, I know what I'm
doing. I don't need a buncha suits and papers telling me how to live my life. I'm
taking control, and the first thing to do is say buh-bye to Pinole Valley
"I can't tell you what to do, either." Mike takes the last smuggled
beer from his backpack.
Billie just giggles and wraps his arms around the tall man's shoulders.
"Mike, you're so sexy when you're a doormat."
"I just hope you know what you're doing, is all."
"Don't worry about a thing. I got it allll figured out."
"Really?" Mike raises an eyebrow.
"Gonna be a rock star, baby." Billie kisses his best friend's
cheek and steals a sip of beer with a wicked grin.
Mike knew the other guys would be the first ones he'd turn to
during his divorce. Without the two men he considered his brothers, he felt his
normally strong will would crack like so much porcelain.
But things turned out differently than he expected.
He didn't expect to be sitting between them, a giant cradled in
their arms and a head nestled on Tre's shoulder. He didn't expect to weep the way
he did, tears burning like acid, and knowing he probably looked hideous and not
He didn't expect them to comfort him the way they did, rubbing
circles on his arms and legs, and kissing his cheeks and forehead. He didn't expect
their whispers (pleas declarations happy lies?) of "We love you, Mike."
And he certainly didn't expect himself to sooner or later close
his eyes, breathe, and sink into this depth of love, his normally strong will melting
Yep, definitely cracked.
Billie slicks blackness over his mouth, admiring how it's reflected.
With a final tug on his striped ski mask, he stands for an overall look. He can't
help smiling wickedly, and with the lipstick, it's even more sinister. This gig
was gonna be the most fun in ages.
The tip of a wet tongue touches the back of Billie's neck, and
slicks up until it nudges the mask. "Unh...shit..." He moans and turns to see Tre,
all puffy vest, fishnets, and that crazy luchador mask from some costume
"Weren't you bothering Mike?"
"You mean bothering Van Gough. No way, those bandages gimme the
"Well, I'm still deciding if I'd wanna meet you in a dark alley...sweetcake,"
Billie smirks and grabs Tre's wrists to rest those hands on his vinyl-clad backside.
The younger man purrs, at how it feels and how it's reflected,
"You look like the devil."
"Is that a compliment?"
"You bet." Curling up a corner of the mask, Tre plants a purple
kiss on his lover's jaw line, leaving a bruise-like mark.
"Hmm." Billie gingerly touches it, and spies its reflection. "Me
likey." On impulse, he opens the vest and leaves the impression of black lips in
the middle of his Snoo's chest.
The young man draws in a sharp breath and looks at the kiss in
the mirror. "Whoa...Fink, you devil."
"Damn right," Billie rezips the vest. "C'mon, it's showtime."
The first time he plays it for them, just him and a bare-bones
guitar, he feels nervous enough as if he's coming out all over again. Obviously
sexuality is no issue to any of them at this point, almost a running gag- but the
words Billie uses, so fragile, so sincere...
He finishes the last chord, notes just floating in the air, and
Mike and Tre are briefly silent. His heart pounds until Tre finally whispers out,
"Uh, bad damn or good damn?"
"Definitely good damn, man," Mike rubs his friend's shoulder.
"That kinda song takes guts."
"Yeah, I think you just spoke for a lotta people." Tre picks up
the scribbled notebook page, Coming Clean widely written across the top.
"It probably still needs a little tweaking-"
"No problem. You do with it what you want, and we'll be right
"Chuck it and we'll kill you," Tre quips as he kisses Billie's
cheek and hands the sheet back.
Billie almost feels himself blushing. "You really wanna use it?"
"You damn right! The world needs this song, and if someone doesn't
like it- screw 'em," Mike proclaims and hugs his friend tightly.
Billie definitely knows he's blushing now, but it's one of satisfaction.
No matter how many times Billie jokes that Green Day are better
than The Beatles, Revolver is one those albums that rarely leaves his Discman.
He can give as many explanations as he wants- how it showcased a new artistic songwriting
that would culminate in Sergeant Pepper's brilliance, or the trippy quality
of 'Tomorrow Never Knows,' but Mike knows the real truth- about how it speaks to
him on so many personal levels.
Found love. Lost love. Friendship. Isolation. Feeling up. Feeling
down. Having things figured out. Being confused. Every emotion Billie's ever had
or even heard of. People are lucky if they can find a selection of songs that match
their life, but to already have them on the same album is extra special.
Mike thinks about all this now as he sits next to a sleepy Billie
on the bus seat, his hands holding to the CD player in his lap and buds just perched
on his ears. He gently presses his body against Billie's, and hears the faint strains
of 'Here, There, and Everywhere.'
They're playing our song, he thinks, his wistful smile
matching Billie's as he laces their fingers together.
It's one of the oldest games in the book, but these young lovers
definitely take enjoyment in it. Tre ties Mike's wrists snugly behind his back,
then lovingly smoothes down his dark hair.
"Relax, Mikey," he intones in the mellifluous voice of an actor
really getting into his role, "nothing's going to happen to you that I don't want
The look on Mike's face is one to treasure as he plays his part,
someone who knows he should be in control but he's not, who doesn't know what's
going to happen and it frightens him.
Oh yes, how Tre gets off on that expression, so pleading and helpless.
Of course he won't do anything to hurt Mike; he loves him too much for that.
But it sure is fun to watch him sweat.
He licks his lips, slides a hand under Mike's chin, and takes
a good look in the blue eyes that are doing a great job of pretending to cry. "There's
no need to be scared," his voice says, even while his tone means, "Whimper for
me, baby." He tastes Mike's fear in his kiss.
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