Worry Rock

A groan was heard from the other side of the bed as an alarm clock ran throughout the bedroom, shattering the silence. "Turn it off, please," the lump next to me grumbled, burying its head under the pillows, "I can't believe I ever let you buy that damn thing."

"If we didn't have an alarm clock, we'd sleep all the time."

"My point exactly. Now turn it off."

"No, we need to get up."

Before I could utter another word, the older man had pulled me insanley close to him, resting his head in my neck. "Do you still feel sick, babe?"

"No," I murmured into his hair, feeling his warm breath on my neck.

"Mm...well, just incase, I'll stay here and take care of you like the good man I am."

I giggled, feeling his lips latch onto my neck, his hands slowly caressing my body. "You could," I cooed, "Or you could tell me why you really want to stay home."

He lifted his head from my neck slowly, giving me a confused look, "Why couldn't that be a real reason?" he asked, cuddling up to me whilst running a hand through my hair.

"Because I know there's a hidden reason. Because I know you better than you know yourself."

Billie Joe closed his eyes, tilting his head head back on the pillow as we lay there, taking in a deep breath. "I don't want to go to the studio," he admitted after a dramatically long silence, "Mike called yesterday when you were sleeping, and said he wanted to get together today in the studio. I haven't come to good terms with Tre, and I don't plan to until he confronts me."

I pressed my lips against Billie Joe's sweetly, sliding a hand through his hair. "You two are going to have to talk."

"I know," he mumbled, kissing me softly, placing a hand on my hip, "But I didn't do a goddamn thing for that man to snap at me. He was a rude asshole, and I'm not speaking to him until he apologizes."

I went to speak, only to have him cut me off by kissing me once again, placing his hand on the back of my neck, a small grin sliding onto his lips. "I love you," he mumbled between short, yet repetitive kisses, his hands slowly moving down my back.

And as soon as everything started, it stopped as a ear splitting noise rang throughout the room, causing Billie Joe to grunt, pulling his lips from my own abruptly. He sat up, leaning over me, pushing me down from his body, pushing the alarm clock off of the small dresser, causing it to unplug and fall, breaking into two pieces. I sat up, causing him to roll off of me, us both looking down at the once-was alarm clock, and then to each other. He grinned sheepishly, looking back down at the alarm clock once again. "You didn't like it that much, anyway, did you?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, sliding out from under the duvet and off the bed, Billie Joe groaning, knowing the morning make-out session was over. He pursed his lips, slowly pushing himself off of the bed, scratching at his bare tattooed chest. I poked my head out of the bathroom that connected to the bedroom, a toothbrush in my hand. "Go wake Shindey uhp," I said, my words muffled.

Billie Joe nodded, pulling open the bedroom door, stumbling down the hallway. He stopped at his daughters door, knocking on it before pushing it open. He looked over to the bed, noticing the lump in the middle of it, curls of reddish-brown and dirty blonde hair appearing from front. "Sydney," he cooed, "Sydney, you have to get up. You'll be late for school."

In return he only recieved a small, "Go away. Five more minutes, please."

The older man stumbled over to his daughters bed, sitting down at the foot of it, not being a fan of waking up at seven in the morning for school, in which he had never promoted in the first place. "Come on," he grumbled, "If you get up I'll give you a dollar."

"I'm not five, dad," the thirteen year old muttered from under the blanket, "I don't go washing your car for a dollar."

"I only did that once."

"You tried twice."

Billie Joe rolled his eyes, shifting his body on the bed, "I wish you were still on vacation," he muttered, as if he were thirteen himself, "So we could all wake up at humane hours and not now."

"I know. Me too."

He yawned, grabbing one of her pillows, placing it underneath his head. "I mean, who wakes up at seven in the morning?" he rambled.

"I'm the last stop for the bus, too," she said, taking her head out from under the blanket, looking down at the top of her fathers head, his body sprawled out across her legs, "A few girls on my bus have to wake up at five thirty."

"That's disgusting."

"I know. They go to bed at like nine."

"That's when you realize school is taking over your life."

Sydney laughed, resting her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes. She went to move her leg, only to hear her father grunt and snore, signaling that he had fallen back asleep. She lifted her head once again, looking back down at him, rolling her eyes. "No wonder you dropped out..."

***

"Where's your dad?" I asked, turning around from the counter to look at Sydney who sat slumped at the kitchen counter, her forehead resting in the palm of her hand.

"In my bed, sleeping."

I laughed, placing a plate in front of her, "I guess that's what I should expect when I send him to wake you up."

She nodded, "He fell back asleep before I had a chance to. And I would have fallen back asleep, but he was laying on my legs, so they fell asleep and when he moved they got all prickly and I had to get up."
I laughed once again, shaking my head. "That's your father for you. He sleeps more than anything in his life."

"That's kinda sad."

"Hun, that's very sad."

Sydney giggled, nodding once again as she pushed herself off of the stool, looking at her reflection in the microwave to see if her hair looked okay, only putting it up quickly that morning before grabbing her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. She kissed my cheek, hearing the screeching of the school bus's brakes, saying goodbye, making her way out of the door.

Rough, stubbled skin was pressed again my cheek, two arms wrapping themselves around my body, pushing me down on the loveseat. I sighed, knowing that the chances of me going anywhere were slim to none. "I see you're up," I murmured into Billie Joe's neck.

He lifted his head from my shoulder, placing his lips firmly against my own. "Mhm," he hummed, kissing me once again, "I woke up in Sydney's room, and I got really confused."

I giggled, running a hand through his thick hair, "That's the last time I send you to wake up Sydney."

Billie Joe grinned, closing his eyes, resting his head on my chest. He sat up after a moment, looking down at me, puckering his lips. He slowly leant down, locking his lips with my own, finding it hard to resist from pulling away from because of the grin that was creeping onto his face. His hands slid down my waist, now sitting on my stomach.

He pulled away, grinning like an idiot, his breaths ragged. He watched me underneath him, watching my hands travel up his bare arms, finding himself becoming slightly aroused. He dipped his head down once again, going to bring us into another kiss, only for me to pull away, a sly smirk resting on my own lips. Billie Joe grinned, locking his eyes that had turned a dark of green from lust, "You fucking tease," he whispered, moving a hand to behind my head, connecting our lips together.

"Hi, you've reached the Armstrong's. If you know us, and love us, leave a message. If you don't know us, and you don't love us, why the fuck are you calling? Hang the damn phone up. Or, if you would like, continue after the beep."

Both of us stopped what we were doing, our ears picking up the sounds from the answer machine. "Billie? It's Mike. Where the hell are you? Don't you dare sit there and stare at this phone, man, or tell your wife to pick it up and say you're on your way, because I've called your cellphone fifteen times, and I've got about as much of an answer from that as I do with this. Pick up the phone, Armstrong."

Billie Joe groaned, removing his body from my own hesitantly before stumbling over to the phone, grabbing it out of it's stand. "What?"

"You were supposed to be here a half hour ago."

"What? Where?"

"Jesus christ," the bassist grumbled, "The studio, Billie Joe. The goddamn studio! The place where I called you and told you about yesterday!"

"Oh...it must have slipped my mind."

Mike sighed angrily, "Why haven't I given up on you yet?"

"Because you love me," Billie Joe replied in a cocky tone, grinning like a fool.

"Yeah, right, right. Are you coming or not?"

"I-uh...no."

"Why not?" Mike snapped, "You were fine with it yesterday."

"...Joe's sick."

"She got sick overnight?"

"No, but I was more interested in my BLT yesterday than you, so I forgot to mention that I wouldn't be showing up."

"You really are an asshole, Billie Joe," Mike muttered, "I hope you do realize that."

"I do. I'm told at least twice a day."

"Good," the younger man paused, "So you're really not showing up today? Even though Tre and I are here already?"

"Right. She's just, really sick, man. Like, she can't even remember who or where she is. So I'm scared if I leave she'll try to run away."

Mike groaned, "You sick fuck. Is Mandy even really sick? Or are you just trying to paw your way out of this-"

"I've got to go, Mike, she's making a break for the door."

"Billie Joe-"

"Bye Mike! Have fun! Tah Tah!" Billie Joe clicked the phone off, grinning at it as he placed it back in the stand, waddling back over to me.

I laughed into his chest as he fell onto the couch next to me, wrapping his arms around me, turning the tv on. "You really are a sick fuck."

"I know," he stated proudly.

"You just told your best friend I'm delirious and trying to run away," I giggled.

"He believed me, though."

I turned my attention away from the television to him, kissing him lightly. "I'd hate to break it to you, but he really didn't."

"Oh." He puckered his lips, running a hand through my hair, "Well, it got him to leave me alone. And it bought me another day away from him."

"You'll eventually have to make up with Tre."

"Don't say his name."

I snorted, arching an eyebrow, "So what do I call him? He-who-must-not-be-named from Harry Potter?"

"Aww, that's not nice to He-who-must-not-be-named."

I laughed once again, burying my face in his neck, underneath his chin. "You're terrible."

"I know. But you love it."

***

"Mom? Dad?"

Billie Joe and I both looked up to see two girls standing there, one being our daughter. "Hi Shidney," Billie Joe mumbled, his eyes darting between the two girls.

The one to the left of Sydney looked to be about 5'2", with dark brown hair that seemed to fit with her hazel eyes. She wore a slightly ripped up 'Halifax' t-shirt and a pair of ripped at the knee dark blue jeans, a pair of converse showing from underneath them.

Sydney grinned, "Hi. I just stopped home to drop off my stuff, and to get my skateboard. Is it okay if I go hang out with Eddie and Tiff?" She motioned to the girl next to her, "By the way, this is Tiff. Dad, she's the one I talked about yesterday."

The thirteen year old that stood next to Sydney seemed to blush, bowing her head slightly. I grinned, "Hey hun," I cooed.

Tiff looked up, smiling, "Hi Mrs. Armstrong."

I laughed softly, shaking my head, "Call me Mandy. Please."

She smiled shyly, bobbing her head up and down, "Okay."

Billie Joe went to speak, only to have his voice drowned out my a ringing phone, causing him to groan, grabbing the phone off of the table. "Oh hell, it's him."

"He who must not be named?" I asked, turning my attention to Billie Joe.

"Yeah. Why the hell is he calling? I want to change our phone number."

I rolled my eyes, "Well that's a mature way of handling things. You're worse than a teenager girl who's fighting with their best friend over a guy, Billie."

"Shuddup," he grumbled, staring at the phone with concentration, "No I'm not."

The girls giggled to each other, placing their books on the table, watching us bicker. "Yeah you are. Pick up the damn phone before I pick it up for you."

He shot me an angry look before standing up, "Well if I have to speak to him, I'll have to do it in private."

"You do that, hun."

He stuck his tongue out at me, excusing himself from the room, placing a hand on Sydney's new friends shoulder as he went by her, causing her eye's to widen. I laughed to myself, guessing she was a fan or something, also excusing myself from the room as they looked around for Sydney's skateboard.

"I'm not a fucking drunkard, Tre. You've got no right fucking shooting off your mouth at stupid ass things and ruining day. Just because you suck at your relationship with Rachel and yell at her doesn't mean you have to be a bastard and come after me."

Whoever said guys got along with each other better than girls do had obviously never met Billie Joe. I heard Billie Joe huff, before watching him appear in the kitchen, the phone clutched in his hand. He gave me a, "You-heard-so-don't-ask," look, leaning back on the counter next to me, running a hand through his hair hastily, messing it up more than it already was. We both stood next to each other in silence for a few minutes, hearing the giggling echo's of the two girls in the house before he sighed, snaking an arm around my waist, shoving his lips against my own, as if it were the only thing to calm him down. "Sorry," he grumbled, slowly pulling apart, noticing the small stain of blood on my bottom lip, causing a smirk to appear on his lips, "I didn't want to punch anything."

"So you bit me?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He smiled as innocently as he could, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a can of soda, handing one to me. "You always told me violence wasn't the answer."

"I told you that when you tried to beat up a man that was twice the size of you in muscles, sweetheart," I mumbled, "And I never told you to be a vampire and bite me."

Billie Joe continued smiling, wriggling his eyebrows. Both of our attentions were caught as a shrill ring rang throughout the kitchen, the phone nearly bouncing from the volume coming from it's self. "God damnit," Billie Joe grumbled, "I'm changing our fucking phone number."

Billie Joe's voice came up from the answer machine, both of us staring at it, waiting to hear who was calling now, only to hear the drummer's voice. Billie Joe scowled, flipping the machine the bird. "Billie Joe Armstrong, pick up the phone," Tre snapped into the phone, "You barely let me get a word in last time I called before hanging up on me. Pick up or I'll call you every waking moment of your life."

I looked over at my husband, arching an eyebrow as he glared back at the machine. "Billie...pick it up."

"No. You," he said nodding torwards the phone as if it were diseased.

"You already told Mike I was delirious and running for the door, Billie. He's with Mike, so Mike told him."

"So tell him I'm delirious, and that you're perfectly fine. I just screwed everything up because I'm so fucked up."

"Billie Joe, stop being such a wuss. Pick up the phone."

"No. I'm not picking up that goddamn phone. I'm not speaking to that asshole."

We both looked over to see Sydney rolling her eyes at us, walking over to the phone and picking it up. "Hi Uncle Tre," she said simply, "My dad?" she paused, looking up at her father, who shook his head vigorously, "Yeah, he's right here, but he won't pick up the phone, he's trying to get my mom to, but she won't because she thinks it's his responsibility and she's telling him to stop being a jerk. He wants her, well me, to tell you that he lied to Uncle Mike before, and say he's the delirious and-"

"SYDNEY!"

The thirteen year old grinned, sticking her hand out with the phone to her father who scowled at her, grabbing it. "See if I ever help you when your friends call," he muttered bitterly, stalking out of the kitchen.

I looked over at her, starting to laugh as she smiled proudly, a laugh escaping her lips. "That was good," I admitted, "It got him to pick up."

She smiled innocently, pulling open the fridge, pulling out two water bottles, one for herself and one for her friend. "I'll be upstairs," she stated.

"Mmk. Weren't you going skateboarding with Eddie and Tiff?"

"Yeah, but Eddie has to do homework, because his mom is a real," she paused, using her hands to fill in the blanks, "So she's making him do all his homework first."

I nodded, running a hand through my hair, "That wouldn't be a bad idea for you, either," I said slowly, "Because you're not doing it at eleven tonight, and you're not skipping it."

"Fine," she mumbled, "I'll do it in a bit."

I smirked, watching her walk out of the kitchen. After a few minutes of listening to Billie Joe argue with one of his best friends, I made my way upstairs to our bedroom, wanting to put away the clothes from New York that Billie Joe had stopped me from doing every time. I heard the bedroom door click closed, not bothering to look behind me, knowing who it was. I felt his eyes on me as I shuffled around the bedroom, him just simply watching for a moment, before coughing. "Yes?" I cooed, turning around to face him.

He smiled lopsidedly, crossing the large bedroom to get to me, knocking me back on the bed, leaning over me. "I made up with him," he mumbled, kissing the bare skin below my neck.

I looked up at him, arching an eyebrow, wrapping my arms around his back. "That easily after your whole damn temper tantrum for the past five days?"

"Shuddup," he grumbled, "Yesh...we made up that easily...and Sydney is getting her ass kicked later."

I snorted shaking my head, "She's definitely your daughter. No questioning that."

"I'm not too sure," he said, his words muffled because he had buried his nose in my neck, "I think that was part of you. I'm not cruel like that."

"Yeah you are. And what did Tre say to you to make you forgive him so easily?"

"Nothing. I'm just nice like that, so I decided to forgive him."

"You're such a little kid, Billie," I mumbled, rolling my eyes at him.

"No I'm not. How?"

"You act like the fucking world is ending because you had a fight with your best friend and then within a few days he calls, and you forgive them."

"So you want me to fight with him more?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes reflecting from the light, making them shine brighter.

"Oh god no," I said letting out an exasperated sigh, "It's too emotionally draining when you fight with someone."

"What?" he asked slowly, "Not for me..."

I snorted, running a hand through his black hair, "Sweetheart, I'm talking about how it is for everyone around you."

His mouth dropped open in mock shock as he looked down at me, his upper lip curling into a smile that he was trying to hide. "Baby, that's mean."

I grinned, pecking him on the lips, "No one ever said I was nice."

Billie Joe finally let his smile overtake the pout he had been wearing. "That's good," he stated, winking, "Because I like them mean."