Chapter Text
Billie Joe doesn’t feel good. He stands hunched over the sink in the bathroom, clutching either side of the porcelain basin, his eyes squeezed shut as his stomach rolls over continuously. A few times, Billie gags and comes pretty close to vomiting, but he just has to ride this out. That’s what he’s learned in the last couple of weeks: it’ll pass if he can just get through it.
This time is no different. Billie begins to feel better after a few minutes—shaky, but no longer in immediate danger of throwing up. Regardless, he cups some cool water from the faucet to splash his face and neck, which helps his overall feeling of discomfort. To dry himself, Billie Joe uses the forgotten washcloth hanging over the spout, left from the last time this happened, and he dabs his skin with it on his way out of the bathroom.
Mike is leaning against the counter in the kitchen with his arms crossed over his chest when he emerges, right where he left him his brow pulled tightly together. “This has been happening a lot?” He asks quietly.
Offering a noncommittal shrug, Billie stops a few feet from his friend and props one hand on his hip. “It comes and goes,” he answers, and then he drags the rough terry cloth across his mouth.
They haven’t seen much of each other recently. They’ve both had a lot to process, and they don’t necessarily process things in the same way. To avoid conflict, it’s been easier to keep their distance, but circumstances being what they are, they can’t go on avoiding each other indefinitely. That’s why, Billie assumes, Mike asked to come over this afternoon. Not for nothing, Mike is the one to extend the first olive branch, more often than not.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” Mike tells him. “Is there, uh—is there anything I could do to help?”
Billie Joe shakes his head, staring at the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. “No. Thanks, though.”
“How’re you feeling otherwise? Besides the nausea, I mean.”
“Okay,” Billie says with another shrug, blowing out a breath. “The hardest thing is wrapping my head around all of this.”
Mike nods his head slowly. “And… and where are you at? In terms of wrapping your head around this.”
“Oh, I’m no closer than I was a few weeks ago.” Billie chucks his crumped washcloth into the sink and then decides to head into the living room where he can sit comfortably, trusting Mike to follow him, which he does. Heavily, he plops himself down in the deep chair adjacent to the couch, spreading his legs and resting his elbows on the armrests. “How about you?”
Perhaps unexpectedly, Mike chuckles through his nose. “I’m about where you are.” He’s come to a stand behind the sofa, and he bends to rest his forearms on the back edge of it, his hands folding together. It’s silent for a second, and then Mike hesitantly asks, “You’ve decided to keep it. Right?”
Looking down at himself, Billie folds his hands over his stomach, almost thoughtful but definitely resolved. “Yeah,” he answers gruffly. “It almost tore me apart last time. I can’t go through that again.”
“I understand,” Mike responds immediately, just like Billie knew he would.
Billie Joe sighs and closes his eyes, lifting one hand to massage his forehead. In his 36 years of life, he’s had a total of three scares. The first time, Billie was nineteen, and it turned out to be nothing. But the last time, he was 22, and he terminated without a whole lot of forethought and with plenty of post-traumatic stress. Since then, Billie has tried to be more responsible, but accidents happen. Sometimes big ones, to which there are consequences, and he’s not interested in the quick fix this time because he’s harboring enough regret as it is.
It’s a comfort that this, at least, Billie Joe doesn’t have to explain to Mike. They may not be on the same page about everything right now, but if there’s one thing that’s true, they understand each other. That’s a byproduct of 25 plus years of friendship… and nearly twenty years of sleeping with each other.
“So what do you wanna do?” Mike asks after a long stretch of silence. “What’re you thinking, Billie?”
Billie swallows, glancing anxiously from one spot on the wall from one object in the room to another. He has no idea how Mike is going to react to what he’s about to say, but he fears the worst. “I want to get a paternity test,” Billie says quietly, and he forces himself to move his eyes to meet Mike’s.
After blinking a few times, Mike flatly says, “No.”
Raising his eyebrows, Billie Joe questions, “What do you mean, no?”
“No,” Mike repeats. “I don’t want to do that.”
“It’s not really up to you,” Billie reminds him, making a face.
“It should be at least fifty percent up to me,” Mike retorts, now gesturing with his hand.
“I’m not sure that’s how the math works in this situation, Mike.”
“Why, just because you had a fling with a 24 year old?” Mike taunts, but his voice is flat again, yet still betrayed by the implication of his words.
Billie exhales shortly through his nose, then pinching the bridge of it. He knew this is where the conversation would inevitably go, but still, he wishes it didn’t have to. “It’s not a fling,” Billie Joe says pointedly, and he’s tempted to say more on that but listens to his better angels. When he reopens his eyes, he finds Mike is glaring at him stonily, and he huffs. “So this is what you wanna talk about, huh? You want to debate and define my relationship with Kevin?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not a relationship,” Mike says forcefully. “It’s not like what you and I have.”
Of course it’s not, Billie thinks, but that’s because they’re two incomparable things, not because what he has with Kevin is completely meaningless. He suspects Mike knows this. Whether or not he wants to believe it is a different story, but right now doesn’t feel like the time to force him to confront it. After having not seen Mike in a few weeks, Billie Joe doesn’t want this to turn into an argument, in part because he’s lacking the energy.
His fingertips dug into his forehead again, Billie mutters, “I don’t really know what you want me to do or say here, Mike. If you don’t want a paternity test, fuckin’ fine, I guess.”
There’s a silent minute that passes, and then Billie hears Mike’s footsteps creaking on the wooden floor boards. His hands appears on Billie Joe’s shoulders, smoothing down over his chest from behind him, gently rubbing over it. “I’ve missed you,” Mike murmurs closer to Billie’s ear, and he brushes his lips through his hair.
It feels good to be touched. Billie has gone without it lately, and while that’s suited him just fine most of the time due to all of the hormonal changes he’s experiencing, that may also be the reason he has a physical reaction to Mike’s hands on his body. And it’s definitely the reason he feels his inside quiver with emotion as he takes Mike’s fingers and kisses them, holding them to his cheek afterward. “Missed you too,” Billie Joe admits in a small voice.
Mike crouches at the side of the armchair to afford them eye contact, and he uses the position of his hand to stroke the backs of his fingers down Billie’s cheek. “I’ve been worried about you,” he says. “Thinking about you. All the time.”
“I’ve been alright,” Billie says with another half-shrug. His teeth catch his bottom lip, and he considers for a second, if he wants to tell Mike what he’s thinking. After all, regardless of anything, Mike is one of his best friends, so it’s natural for Billie Joe to want to share important things with him. He makes up his mind and lifts up in order to reach into the back pocket of his jeans, coming away with a folded up piece of film paper that he passes wordlessly to Mike.
Taking it, Mike unfolds the wrinkled item, and Billie sees his expression change as he realizes exactly what it is. He stares at it for a long time without saying anything, his blue eyes fixated on the black and white film, and Billie watches him process in real time, specifically the noticeable way his eyes glaze over. It’s not so dissimilar from how it happened for him while sitting on an examination table in a doctor’s office he’d never been to before, and for the briefest moment, Billie Joe doesn’t want a paternity test either.
“Perfectly healthy,” Billie says softly, and he has his hand on his stomach again, tapping lightly. “The doctor said everything looked good on the scan. Strong heartbeat.”
“Heartbeat?” Mike repeats, his stare finally transferring to Billie. “You heard the heartbeat?”
Billie Joe nods. “Yeah.” He swallows. “It was pretty cool actually.”
A slow exhale leaving his nose, Mike moves his eyes back to the ultrasound capture. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, but Billie could take a stab at a few guesses. When Mike returns the film to Billie, he clears his throat, and his voice is a little gruff as he says, “I’m glad, uh—I’m glad everything’s good and healthy.”
“Me too,” Billie Joe agrees, and instead of putting the film back in his wallet, he reaches to lay it on the coffee table in front of him. He smooths his palms over it in an attempt to get the folded crease out of it, and he leaves it there, looking on at it as he sits forward in his chair with his hands clasped between his knees. Over the last few days, since Billie had the scan, he’s been taking long looks at the snapshot, and every time, it hits a little bit closer to home, what it means for his future. It’s going to turn everything upside down, but in some ways, it already has.
“All this time apart we had,” Mike starts to say quietly, his hand sliding weightily over Billie’s closest knee, “and you’re all I could think about, you know. How you were doing and feeling, and what was gonna come next. I’m not sure there was any significant amount of time I spent not thinking about you and all of this. And I just—I wanna do it together, Beej.”
It’s the nickname only Mike calls him, and spoken so soft and intimate, it hits Billie Joe’s ears like a salve on a sore wound. At the same time, though, there’s something deep inside of him that’s actively being torn in two different directions, and even if he could articulate it, he wouldn’t in this moment because he knows how much it would hurt Mike. That’s the thing here: Billie doesn’t want to hurt anybody, and he’s not really sure how to avoid it. He could dedicate all of his time and limited energy to finding a solution, but it wouldn’t do him any good if it’s unavoidable anyway. And that’s certainly how it feels.
Even if he’s unwilling to say it aloud, Mike might be able to tell anyway, but if there’s one thing he’s always been good at, it’s living in a certain state of denial. He rises up from his bent knees to stand over Billie, taking his face between his large hands and only hesitates minutely before kissing him. It’s clear Mike has no chaste intention by how passionately he kisses him, dropping his jaw and sliding his fingers through his hair to hold him more firmly. The touching of their tongues causes muscles inside of Billie Joe to clench that have been rather relaxed as of late, and he whimpers without meaning to, fisting a hand in his friend’s shirt.
Mike pulls him up from his seat by the elbows and wraps one strong arm around his waist so their bodies are flush together. “I wanna take care of you,” he whispers gruffly in between kisses, and then one of his hands is trailing downwards to cup one of Billie’s ass cheeks at the same time his mouth moves to his neck. “Can you let me do that?”
“God, Mike,” Billie breathes out, and he bites his tongue at the gorgeous sensation of a wet tongue licking over his pulse point in combination with the insistent fondling of his ass. His cock is twitching to life after being ambivalent for so long, and what’s more, he’s slicking. That’s not anything new, at least these days, but this is about more than hormones; it’s about arousal and the buttons Mike knows how to push after all the years they’ve been exploring each other’s bodies.
“You want me, right?” Mike asks, punctuating his question with a nip of his teeth to the cord in Billie Joe’s throat, effectively short-circuiting his brain.
“Yeah, Mike, I—yeah—”
“Good,” Mike growls, and he turns his attention to unbuttoning Billie’s dark jeans. He slides the denim down his legs along with his dampened boxer briefs, encouraging Billie Joe to step out of them. Mike passes his hand over Billie’s erection when he straightens, cupping the nape of his neck while biting more kisses into his lips. He then slides that hand down the length of Billie’s back until he’s squeezing his ass again, to which he grunts in approval. “Fuck yeah. Hard and wet for me, fuckin’ ready for me. Turn around, baby, bend over the chair for me.”
Coaxed along by Mike’s hand, Billie Joe obeys, more on autopilot than anything else. This is all happening so fast, but instincts being what they are, he can’t deny that he wants to follow Mike’s lead. Billie grasps either arm of the chair for support, and when Mike pushes on the back of his left knee, he brings it up to bend it on the velvet cushion. He feels Mike’s hands on his ass, spreading him open, and he lowers his head, touching his tongue to his teeth in anticipation.
What he might not have expected is for Mike to put his mouth to his hole, but that’s exactly what he does. He licks over Billie’s rim and smacks his lips afterward. “Shit, you taste good,” Mike mutters, rubbing his fingertips around his pucker and briefly dipping one inside. “Holy shit, you’re fucking amazing.”
He buries his face between his cheeks and begins licking him out with purpose, and Billie Joe gasps at the sensation, his breath coming faster. “Oh, fuck, Mike,” he groans through his teeth, reaching behind him to take a handful of Mike’s hair. It’s very easy for Mike to work his tongue inside of Billie, and the penetration of hot muscle has him crying out, especially when he thrusts in and out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Mike,” he whines, his fingernails digging into the side of the chair. Billie feels himself gushing slick for Mike to lap up at the same time his dick is flexing between his parted legs, dripping pre-come down its short length. With everything going on, he hasn’t had sex or even touched himself in weeks, so this is all lighting him up with alarming speed, causing his balls to prematurely ache with the stirrings of release.
It’s as though Mike can tell, and it very well may be that he can considering the countless times they’ve slept together. After several sloppy rolls of his tongue, he pulls out his face, scraping his teeth over one of Billie Joe’s cheeks on the way. Mike wastes no time in replacing his tongue with his fingers, however, spearing two of them through Billie’s pliant rim. He crooks them until he’s able to prod at Billie’s prostate and earns himself additional strangled moans. “I wanna fuck you,” Mike tells him urgently. “Need to be inside of you, baby, please.”
“Fuck me then,” Billie Joe pants, hardly able to string words together when every brush of his sweet spot triggers stabs of pleasure in various nerve endings throughout his body.
Mike brings his leg down and encourages Billie to spread his feet further apart, likely to achieve a better angle. He takes Billie by the hips before pushing his cock past his relaxed hole, doing so with ease when his pucker is so wet with slick. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Mike curses breathlessly, his thumbs pressing hard into the back of Billie Joe’s pelvis. “Goddamnit, you feel so fuckin’ good, Billie, oh my God. I fuckin’ missed this, missed you so much.”
The feeling is reciprocated, but Billie doesn’t have the wherewithal to share it with the class, so to speak. He’s too preoccupied with the stretch of the dick filling him up, and he doesn’t imagine there could ever be a time that he didn’t want this with Mike. They fit together like a matching lock and key and always have. It’s not just their bodies that are complimentary to one another, but their needs and desires and passions, too. If Mike wants to fuck him, Billie Joe fucking wants that just as much. There are instincts and then there are connections that exceed the physical. What they have together is a synergy, and he could no more deny it than he could refuse his own name because it’s become a part of him in the same way.
To that end, it was never going to a particularly long fuck. With every thrust into his body, Mike tips Billie closer to orgasm. He holds onto the back of the chair for balance because the force with which Mike pistons into him could knock him off of his toes once he picks up speed. The only friction Billie gets for his weeping erection is the air that sweeps around it and the occasional slap of it against his thigh or stomach, but it’s irrelevant since he’s getting so much sensation from everything else. Mike’s movements are steady and sure, relentlessly assaulting his sweet spot, and it builds and builds until he can barely stand it.
“I’m gonna—oh God, Mike, I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna come for me?” Mike asks him in a rush.
“Yes, yes, yes—”
Reaching around him, Mike doesn’t touch his prick but cradles his balls, gently squeezing as he growls, “Come,” and the reaction is instantaneous.
“Oh my God!” Billie Joe cries out, losing his grip on the chair so that he stumbles, but Mike is there to catch him with an arm lashed around his chest.
“I got you, baby, I got you—holy fuckin’ shit, fuck!” With a hoarse shout, Mike follows after his climax, his cock throbbing into Billie nearly in unison with his spasming hole.
Once they’ve both sufficiently caught their breath, Mike tightens his limbs around his waist, holds Billie to him, and spins him slowly around so that he can sit in his lap as he sits in the chair. He presses kisses behind Billie Joe’s ear and along the side of his throat, then burying his nose in his cropped hair. “I needed that so fuckin’ bad,” Mike murmurs, “you have no idea.”
Wordlessly, Billie lifts his hand behind him to cradle the side of Mike’s head. His breath isn’t all the way back to him just yet, and he’s exhausted. It doesn’t take a whole lot to wear Billie out lately—his status quo is exhaustion—so a fuck like that is gonna require a few minutes for him to recover from. And he’s definitely going to need a nap in the near future. Billie Joe leans heavily into his lover’s frame, his eyes closed, and relishes in the kisses Mike continues to pepper wherever he can reach. It’s safe to say he’s sorely missed these acts of affection.
At some point, though, Billie realizes he’s leaking more than just excess slick, which is a foreign sensation to him, and he makes a face. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about a condom.”
“That’s why that felt so fuckin’ good,” Mike says with vague amusement, now kissing Billie’s jaw. He nuzzles into Billie Joe’s neck afterward, rocking him ever so slightly, and following a pause, he adds, “I thought about it… but you know, I can’t get you more pregnant.”
He’s got a point there. Even as Billie sits perched in Mike’s lap, he realizes his friend has one hand splayed over his stomach. It’s just there, would probably be there regardless, but it still feels poignant, between that and the thoughtful way Mike just spoke. The emotions it stirs up are complicated, somewhat constricting his lungs in a different way, but just like the morning sickness, it’s something he just has to ride out. Billie doesn’t want to be the kind of person that goes to pieces over nothing. This isn’t really nothing, though. Not even he’s callous enough to believe that.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting right in your spunk puddle.”
Billie Joe actually laughs, and he cranes his neck enough to share his grin with Mike, who’s smiling right back. “I bet it ruined the velvet. Might have to toss the chair.”
“Worth it,” Mike shrugs, and Billie nods.
“Yeah,” Billie agrees softly, “it was.”
Mike cups his jaw and leans their foreheads together before kissing him again, but unlike earlier, this kiss is only chaste. That makes it no less passionate, however, and Billie Joe’s insides quiver because he’s no closer to figuring out what the hell they’re going to do. He might know what Mike wants, but that doesn’t mean he shares that particular dream, which has always kind of been the problem.
Still, Billie lets Mike hold him in that chair for a while and takes comfort in his closeness, puddles of spunk be damned.