Worry Rock

"Do you want aspirin?"

"I'd love aspirin. But I'm afraid if I take it it won't stay down." I smiled softly at Billie Joe; filling up a small plastic cup full of water before sitting down next to him. He dropped his head onto my shoulder sighing loudly as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbled after a moment.

"Hmmm?"

"For whatever I did last night."

"How do you know you did something?" I asked, slightly confused at what he was saying, because as it stood he hadn't done anything.

"Because I woke up alone on the couch today."

"How does that mean I was mad at you?"

"Whenever I wake up alone after being a drunken ass, it means you're mad at me."

"Oh," I paused and bit my lip; kissing his pale cheek, "Well apology accepted then."

***

Billie Joe slowly walked into the lounge, wiping the side of his mouth on his sleeve. He looked up at me with a disgusted expression on his face; slowly trotting over to the couch. "Do we have any Listerine?" he asked, pushing his body against my own.

"I think so. In the cabinet upstairs."

"Will you get it for me?" he asked, sounding like a small child.

"Oh?" I murmured, arching an eyebrow, "Why should I get it?"

He pushed his lower lip out, giving me the 'puppy eyes.' "Because you love me," he cooed, "And because I might puke on the way up."

I scrunched my nose up, giving him a sour look. "You'll puke if I leave you down here, too."

"Nah uh," he protested, "The bathroom down here is closer than all the way upstairs. Please?"

I kissed his temple, wriggling my body out from underneath his own, causing him to groan in un-satisfaction. "What?" I asked slowly, turning around to face him.

"I wanted to lay with you."

"I thought you wanted me to get listerine?"

"I do...but I want you to lay with me."

I laughed softly at the older man as I slowly made my way to and up the stairs, heading torwards the bathroom that was joined with our bedroom. I pulled open the cabinet; looking on a few shelves before finding the listerine. I closed the cabinet and headed back downstairs to where the older man lay with his head buried under the pillows. "Billie, here."

Billie Joe lifted his head slowly, looking up at me and then to the listerine. "Thanks baby," he said in a raspy voice while a small smile appeared on his lips.

I nodded my head as I walked down the hallway to the other bathroom and placed the bottle of liquid on the counter. I walked back out into the lounge to see Billie Joe sound asleep, snoring loudly.

*



"How long have I been asleep?"

"Since twelve last night," I said softly, avoiding eye contact.

"What time is it now?"

"Three in the afternoon."

"Woah," he gasped, running a hand through his shaggy hair, "Woah. Sorry. I guess I tend to sleep a lot when I get trashed."

"I guess so."

The 32-year old grinned, poking my midriff. "How come you never get drunk?"

"I'm nineteen," I stated as if that was enough. Billie Joe arched an eyebrow slowly, as if asking what that had to do with anything. "I'm underage," I continued slowly.

"So? I was underage. Hell, I smoked pot and that's not legal at any age."

"Yeah, but that's you. I was a good girl."

"Until you met me."

"Yeah. Until I met you."

Billie Joe smiled once again, his eyes shining from the sunlight that had entered the kitchen. He snaked an arm around my upper half, kissing me oh-so softly. "I'm happy you're back," he whispered.

I slung an arm back around his body, kissing him back sweetly, "I'm happy to be back."

"Were they okay to you?" he asked gently, referring to my parents.

It felt so much easier to say anything and everything in this mans arms. "Yeah. They were fine. I stayed with Steph and Becky, so it was okay."

"Good," he murmured, kissing the side of my mouth.

I felt my cheeks redden as he smiled sadly at me, running a hand through my hair, caressing the back of my neck. "Wanna know a secret?" he asked.

I smiled, nodding. "Sure."

He pushed me back against the counter, placing his lips on my ear. "I missed you. A lot."

***

And it was late that evening when Billie Joe had finally awoken to do other than rid of his dinner from the night before and moan about his hangover. He stumbled out of the dark bedroom and down the hallway, trying to grab onto the walls to stand.

I looked up from the coffee table, slowly putting the bottle of Windex down as he stumbled into the lounge. A small smiled formed onto my lips; my eyebrow arching as I watched him grumble to himself in amusement. "Rough day, sleeping beauty?"

"Shut up," he muttered, crashing down over one arm of the loveseat letting his legs hang over it as he groaned, "I'm gonna die."

"You act as if you've never had a hangover before, when really; you had one the other day."

"This one is bad."

"They all are with you. Every single hangover you have is the absolute end of the whole world."

"Shut up," he snapped once again, "That's not fucking true."

"Yes it is. Now cheer up before I sick Charlie on you."

"I'll cut him up into pieces," he growled, "For that own dog's health, do not send him to me."

I rolled my eyes at him, throwing a used paper towel at him causing him to grunt. "I'm never drinking again," he muttered.

"Until tomorrow," I added.

"No. Shut up."

"Stop telling me to shut up. You shut up."

I saw Billie Joe smirk out of the corner of my eyes; somehow satisfied with pissing me off. "Shut up," he said with a cocky tone, a smile matching it. I turned around and grabbed the pillow behind me and threw it at him. The older man groaned, throwing it back at me. "What the hell was that for?"

"I told you to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Telling me to shut up. Now shut up."

"Hypocrite."

I snorted, stifling a laugh as he closed his eyes once again. I smiled softly as I picked up the few items I had taken off the coffee table to clean it, placing them back onto it. Almost immediately I felt myself being pulled back against the love seat, two arm wrapping themselves around me. Billie Joe pulled me back onto the seat, tangling his limbs with my own. "Why do you always do that?" I grumbled into the older man's shoulder.

"Do what? Hmm?" he hummed.

"Pull me down onto the bed or couch with you. Especially when I'm cleaning..."

"I like to lay with you," he murmured in a small voice, "Is that so wrong?"

I felt myself smile as I buried my nose in the crook of his neck. "No, no it's not."

We lay there for a while, both cuddled in each others arms. I could feel Billie Joe look over at me every few moments, biting his bottom lip. I looked back at him the last time he looked over at me, our eyes connecting. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, lightly pushing my lips against his own.

Billie Joe smiled lopsidedly, tightening his grip around my body. "Are you mad at me?" he asked in a low voice.

I arched an eyebrow, looking over at him. "What?"

"You seem so stiff. Right now, that is. And, I don't know." Billie Joe shifted the way he lay next to me. "It just seems like your mad at me."

"Oh. No, I'm not."

Billie Joe pressed his lips against my own once again, closing his eyes slowly. "Promise?" he murmured

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I said lightly, tracing an 'X' across my chest.

A thin smile appeared on the guitarists lips, his hand slowly crawling up the side of my body. "Mm, don't say that. I don't want to be a widower."

I giggled now burying my head into his chest, snaking an arm around his lower back and into the back pocket of his shorts. "You wouldn't be a widower. You'd be getting ass within the first week."

Billie Joe's mouth dropped open as he looked at me, appalled. "No I certainly would not."

"You'd be wanting it."

"If anything I'd become involved with necrophilia."

"But that's only slightly creepy," I muttered.

Billie Joe chuckled. "What would you do if I died?"

I looked up at him, now shifting my body to make myself more comfortable. "I...don't know."

"I'll probably die before you," he said slowly, "Since I'm older."

I bit my bottom lip, looking away from him. "I don't like the subject of death."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

The lounge became quiet for a few moments, both of us became deep in thought. The mood throughout the room went from playful to serious in a matter of seconds, both of us now caught up on the subject.

Billie Joe chuckled, running a hand through his own hair. "I kind of killed the moment there, didn't I?" he asked.

I laughed softly, curling up more against him. I looked down at the wedding band on my finger. "You've been drinking a lot," I admitted randomly.

Billie Joe looked over at me, a questioning look on his face. "What?"

"You've-uh, you've been drinking. A lot. In the past two weeks you've gotten drunk four or five times."

Billie Joe looked over at me, licking his bottom lip. "Oh." His grip on my waist tightened as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked, confused. "No, Billie, I don't want an apology. I'm just saying...You've been drinking too much."

The dark haired man nodded, looking out of the fairly large window that sat above the couch. "I am sorry, though. I know I have been."

"Oh."

A pair of lips were softly pressed against my own, a rough hand gliding down the backside of my neck. I looked up for my eyes to meet dark-green ones, a sad look to them. "It won't continue. I promise."

"I just get nervous," I admitted, "Because...you know."

As if to say he didn't, the dark haired man tilted his head to the side. I sighed, looking away from him. "Oh." Billie Joe paused, biting his lip. "Your parents."

"Yeah. My parents," I said bitterly, "Them."

The side of Billie Joe's mouth curled into a small smile as he slowly ran his other hand down my side. "I'm not them."

I just nodded, continuing to avoid eye contact with my husband, making the smile he had been wearing droop slowly into a frown. "Hey," he cooed, "It's just because of where I am now. I'm back in the studio, and it gets hard. It gets hard at times so I-uh, the guys and I, we go for a drink or two after. And I'm a little man. I get hammered so quickly." He paused, trying to make eye contact with me. "It's just because I'm back in the studio."

I didn't say anything.

Billie Joe groaned inwardly, shifting himself on top of me, straddling me. He brushed a hand through my hair slowly, tracing his fingers to my back, propping me up with his hands. His lips touched mine once again, oh-so-softly. "I'm not a drunk, Joe."

"I never said you were."

"But you were asking me not to be one. And I'll say it right now. I"m not, and I will not be." He smiled thinly, brushing his nose against my own sweetly. "I'm not them. I'm not your parents. I'm Billie Joe. I'm me, your husband. And I love you."

I smiled softly, entwining my fingers with the dark curls of his hair, playing with it gently. There was a slightly comfortable silence that flooded through the room, both of us staying close. Billie Joe walked his fingers up my arm and back down slowly, his eyes fixated on the opposite wall. He licked his bottom lip slowly, flickering his eyes from the wall to my face. "Are you mad at me?" he asked once again.

"I already said I wasn't," I replied in a quiet voice.

"I know, but you seem it." He shook his head, closing his eyes slowly. "Never mind. Okay."

I looked up at Billie Joe and smiled sweetly, stroking the back of his head. His lips brushed my own sweetly as he went to rest his head on my chest, feeling me play with his hair.

And for the rest of the morning it stayed that way.