Rating: PG-13 for language and implied sexual relations
Pairing: Mike / Billie Joe
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day. They are real people and this work is based on their public personalities. I make no claim to know what they’re really like and mean no offence to anybody.
Word Count: 416
Notes: Also posted at Coming Clean. This is Real Person stuff - if that squicks you, don't click. This is the first time I've written an American, so it may need whatever is the opposite of Brit-picking. Comments and friendly concrit welcome! (I've since written a Life on Mars crossover drabble, imagining that Sam Tyler was in the audience for this concert).
“Ladies and gentlemen – Mr Tré Cool!”
Mike hides the tiny sigh and concentrates on not looking at Billie Joe. This part of the show always puts him on edge: while Tré does his thing, takes his moment in the spotlight, Billie is like a loose cannon. It’s not so much what he might do – if Mike can keep his rhythm through the best fucking kiss he’s ever had, in bed or on stage, he’s not too worried about the guy doing a little running around – but more what he might not do.
Like, he might not grin at Mike and do that hot little “Later” thing with his eyes.
So Mike keeps his head down and forces himself not to think about Billie Joe. Tré’s really going for it tonight, little extra touches all over the place and ... ah shit, Billie’s off again, milking the moment. Strictly not in the agreement, that: prancing about like a lead singer while the drummer‘s taking his solo. Not cool, Billie. Even – especially – if you are the lead singer, the pretty one with the beautiful eyes and the sweet fucking mouth and looking younger every goddamn year. You don’t do your rock-star thing during the drummer’s fucking solo, OK?
All right, nearly done now, and here comes Gorgeous, running back to his place. One of these days he’ll be too out of breath to sing when he gets there; one of these days even Billie will admit they’re not as young as they were. Not yet though, please God. Because if he admits that, what’s next? Admitting there’s no room in a happy marriage for shagging your “brother for life”? (Even though the wife accepts the procession of pretty boys Billie Joe likes to kiss?) Conceding that being bi only works in practice if you’re not settled down?
Nah, fuck that. Stick to hoping he has got enough breath to sing when he’s finished upstaging the man at the back; stick to pounding out the bass line even when, out of the blue, Billie runs in front instead of behind, just so he can touch Mike’s cock as he goes. Not easy, that, with the guitar and all; he’ll trip himself up one day.
Then Billie takes his place and looks over as he draws breath for his next line. And there. There it is. That special little twinkle that means “Later”. Mike grins back as they slam into the last chorus. Not too old yet then.