‹ Prequel: In the End
Status: Hiatus.

Worry Rock

Thirteen

It had been a known fact all over the world, known amongst all pregnant couples that sex while pregnant was by far the best sex.

And oh God was it true.

“Oh my god,” Billie Joe whimpered as he rolled next to me on the bed. I was amazed he could speak at all from the way his chest rose and fell, showing that he was completely out of breath. “Oh my god, Oh my god.”

I giggled as I rolled over and placed my head on my husbands’ rapidly moving chest. I slid my arm over and around his naked waist to pull myself closer as I wrapped the sheet around my body slowly. I was just as worn out as he was. Billie Joe sighed loudly next to me while wrapping an arm back around my back as he closed his eyes, trying to get his heartbeat down. “What is that?” I asked, my voice muffled by his skin, “The seventh or eighth?”

“I lost count,” Billie Joe gasped, “around the fifth time. What time is it?”

Hesitantly, I lifted my head from Billie Joe’s colorful chest and looked behind me at the iHome that rested on the small table next to the bed. I laid back town and wrapped my arms back around his waist. “Like four thirty,” I admitted.

Billie Joe laughed. “And what, you woke me up at like one thirty?” I felt myself blush as I grinned and nodded against his body. “I told you this would happen,” he taunted after a moment when he was able to get his breath back. “Back when we first learned you were pregnant. I knew it was only a matter of time before you started to wake me up in the middle of the night.” He let out a deep breath and chuckled. “I lied in Los Angeles when I said I never wanted to have another baby. I’ll have fifteen more kids if it means sex like this constantly.”

I smirked. “You mean even if it means that you’ll have sympathy pregnancy each time?”

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. It’s fucking worth it.” Billie Joe continued to laugh. “I can’t fucking move.”

“Mmmhm,” I hummed while lifting my head from his chest and placing my lips against his sweaty neck. “I think that’s just because you’re old, though. What a shame, you used to be able to put up with it.”

My husband groaned. “Shut up, Joe. I’m obviously not that old seeing as I’m still getting it up and having kids. And well,” Billie Joe paused as he shifted next to me so that he was facing me. He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me as close to him as possible. “You’re still having sex with me, so you can’t say much.”

I rolled my eyes while running a hand over his bare waist, satisfied with his reaction as he gasped lightly. I giggled. “Who else could I have sex with right now?” I asked. “No man would really want to have sex with a woman that’s four months pregnant, unless it was their own. It’s just not as sexy when it’s someone else’s baby.”

“Well, it’s not nearlyas as sexy when it’s some other guys’ baby,” Billie Joe argued.

It was now three weeks since Sydney’s birthday and I was officially sixteen weeks pregnant, equivalent to four months. I had never seen a stomach grow so fast in a couple of weeks as mine had. I had never seen an appetite grow so fast in a couple of weeks as mine had. It seemed like whenever I wasn’t sleeping, I was eating.

Though, as if to make me feel better, within the past two weeks my husband seemed to be gaining weight—in the stomach region. I had walked into our bedroom one evening to find Billie Joe staring at himself in the mirror, holding his shirt above his stomach. He was slowly dragging a finger down his stomach and then patting it with his hand.

I cocked an eyebrow. “That really doesn’t turn me on, Bill.”

Upon hearing my voice, Billie Joe’s neck snapped up and he chuckled nervously, not having realized that I was in the room. He grinned crookedly at me and then looked back at his stomach. “Joe, I’m not, well uh, gaining weight, am I? I mean, you don’t notice a difference weight wise?”

Hadn’t it been for my hormones on rage, I probably wouldn’t have laughed so hard at those questions. True, either way I was going to laugh at my poor husband, just not as much as I was at the moment. Billie Joe scowled loudly and dropped his shirt back down. He took a step closer to me, grabbed me by my waist and threw me onto the bed while I continued to laugh at how girlish he was. “You should just do it,” I snorted as he pinned me down, obviously discouraged by my laughing.

“What?” He snapped.

“The operation. Just get the damn surgery to your junk and then you can actually be a female.”

Billie Joe scowled again at me. He moved from kneeling over me to straddling me, pushing me down by my shoulders. “Haven’t you ever heard not to make fun of someone’s insecurities?!”

I continued to laugh and nodded. “Yes, yes, but baby, that was before they met you.” I watched as my husbands’ eyebrows eyes narrowed and he began to pout. I giggled as I pushed his hands from my shoulders and sat up to brush my lips against his pouting ones. I lifted my shirt above the incredibly obvious growing stomach to expos where our four-month year old baby was resting inside. “Look at this, Beej. Alright? Stop complaining.”

“Mm,” Billie Joe hummed as he took his hands from my shoulders and shifted on top of me so that he could kiss my stomach. “But you look beautiful. You’re glowing, Joe.” He kissed my stomach again and then sighed against it. “You’re beautiful.”


“But it’s sexy when it’s your own?” I asked.

Billie Joe cocked an eyebrow. “You’re really asking me that?” He asked and laughed while he shifted around on the bed to cuddle next to me. I adored it when he did things such as that. “There’s nothing sexier than your wife when she’s pregnant,” he continued after a few minutes of silence. I closed my eyes and felt myself grin as my husband ran his hands through my hair. “You’re like glowing. And well, Joe, I’ll be completely honest. A lot of women look like shit when they’re pregnant. They look unhappy and disgusted and just goddamn terrible.” His lips brushed mine. “You’re so beautiful.”

My husband had been saying such sweet things a lot lately I had noticed. True, he had always told me I was beautiful and always talked sweet to me, though lately it was just a lot more often. I knew it had to be because he knew my emotions were on haywire [and I’m pretty sure his were too] and he knew how to keep me calm and feeling good about myself despite the fact that my stomach was growing rapidly now.

Out of literally nowhere, I felt the familiar sensation of tears forming in my eyes and a sob escaped my lips. Billie Joe laughed sympathetically as he wrapped his multi-colored strong arms tighter around my waist. “I’m sorry,” I apologized as he wiped away the fresh tears. I laughed as he did, though I was laughing at how pathetic I felt for crying so easily. “I’m sorry, I’ve got no idea where those came from.”

“My best guess would be your eyes,” Billie Joe replied with a crooked grin, trying to chase away the embarrassment from my face with humor. I rolled my watering eyes as my husband continued to chuckle and now gently brush his lips where to tears began to crawl down my cheeks. We both lied there for a few minutes while he continued to wipe the never-ending tears from my blue eyes and kiss me softly. “Our anniversary,” he mumbled between a few kisses.

“What?” I asked, pulling my lips from the lock they had been in. I was surprised that he remembered.

“It’s in three days,” he hummed, trying his best to re-capture my lips. However, it wasn’t working seeing as I was much more interested in what he had to say now. Billie Joe scowled as I continued to pull away while he kept trying to kiss me. “Damnit, Joe, stop,” he mumbled. Once he realized I wasn’t going to allow his lips to touch mine for longer than a few seconds, he sighed in aggravation and continued to speak. “What do you want to do for it?” He asked. “I mean, I’m pretty sure when I say that you don’t want to go out to some hoity-toity restaurant and get all dressed up and shit.”

I shook my head slowly and then shifted to rest it on his tattooed arm. “No,” I admitted and then placed a kiss on the crease of his arm. “I really don’t feel like getting dressed to go out.”

“Mmm,” Billie Joe hummed, “well that makes everything easy on my part. We can both just stay naked the whole day and never leave our bed. Therefore we won’t be getting dressed or going out.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “And that way I can really say Happy Anniversary to you.” His lips brushed my forehead. “All day and night.”

I rolled my now dry eyes and swatted at his bare chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, you ass. No offense, baby, but you’re barely lasting right now.” Without words, as if to prove me wrong, Billie Joe lifted his naked body from next to mine. He pushed me so that I was lying on my back, crawled over me and sat down on my hips, right below my protruding stomach. His hand slid down to my thighs as he leant forward to press his lips against mine. I sighed and gently pushed him off, in response receiving a groan. “I’m not in the mood right now,” I admitted, “you changed the subject to our anniversary so now I feel like talking about that.”

Billie Joe sighed as I had just done and shifted around while still on top of me, refusing to get off. I didn’t have a problem with him straddling me; I just didn’t want sex at the moment. “But baby,” he whined, “talking about our anniversary should make you want sex when you think about it.” He winked down at me. “It sure makes me horny.”

I snorted while he continued to move on top of me so that he was lying down with his head resting on my breasts, half of his body on mine since he was nervous that if he full-out lied on me like he usually did, it’d crush our baby. “Billie, you could be home alone and staring at a plain white wall and that’d make you horny. I don’t think there’s a moment in my life that I’ve known you where you’ve been anything but horny.”

“Mmmm,” my husband hummed. “Well look at who I’m married to.” Billie Joe lifted his head from my chest to press his lips to mine, tracing my bottom lip with his tongue. “Speaking of, back to our anniversary—what do you want to do, Joe? It’s up to you. We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with at this point.”

I slid my arms around Billie Joe’s neck and locked them. “It’s not like I’m eight or nine months pregnant, babe. Hell, I’m not even five yet. I’m barely four.”

“I know,” he agreed, “but you’re emotional and well, you’re acting like a pregnant woman. I know in the hot weather you’ve been getting real uncomfortable and shit.” He kissed my cheek sweetly. “I just want you to be completely comfortable. Like, sweat pants and tank top comfortable—staying at home comfortable.”

“I would be perfectly fine with staying home,” I admitted while Billie Joe moved back on top of me so that he was straddling me again though now he was leaning down on his arms that were resting on the bed on both sides of my head while his head hovered right above mine.

“Mm, yeah,” he agreed again, “but I’d like to bring you out somewhere.” His lips brushed my shoulder. “I just really want to take you out not so much for an anniversary dinner or some shit like that, but as a thank you.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Thank you? For what?”

“For putting up with me for thirteen years now,” he stated as he dragged his lips from my shoulder to my neck. In response, I subconsciously tilted my head back, gasped and moaned softly. Billie Joe chuckled at that and for a few minutes continued to lightly kiss and suck my neck. “And a thank you in advance for spending the rest of our lives together.”

I nodded slowly, still gasping slightly. My husband continued to chuckle, thoroughly enjoying my reaction to his touch ever after all these years. “It’s alright,” I murmured after I regained my composure. “There’s no reason to thank me. Honestly, baby. I don’t need anything expensive like a restaurant; all I really want is a nice new Porsche.” When I saw grin my husband was wearing fade to a straight line and a blank look cover his face, I snorted and gently kissed his chin. “I keed, I keed.”

+++

The two days that lead up to our anniversary passed quickly and before my husband and I knew it, we were both waking up on the morning of our thirteenth anniversary. When we had woken up that morning from the alarm since Sydney was back in school, we had shared a few sweet kisses and exchanges of Happy Anniversary before getting up to get our daughter ready for school.

When Sydney had gotten onto the bus for school, after telling us both Happy Anniversary, Billie Joe immediately tried to get me back into bed. “But I’m hungry,” I murmured into his tattooed arm that had wrapped around my body.

My husband grinned and gently kissed my cheek, right next to my chin. “I know, baby. So go get in bed and I’ll make you breakfast.”

I went to argue, but as soon as I opened my mouth, Billie Joe had scooped in his arms and carried me wedding-style through the house, up the stairs and into our bedroom. I giggled the whole time while wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m amazed you can still carry me.”

Billie Joe rolled his eyes. “I’m not that weak, baby. You’re still light.” With that said my husband of now thirteen years placed me down on the king-sized bed. He crawled over me on the bed and gently pushed me down as I sat up before kissing me softly and sweetly. “Still hungry?” He chuckled after a few minutes.

I hesitated and then nodded slowly. “Very.”

The rock star that was now leaning over me laughed as he pulled his body away from mine. “Alright, stay here.” He got up from hovering over me and grabbed the remote from the floor next to his side of the bed since that was where he had tossed it last night when he had turned off the TV. Once he handed me the remote, Billie Joe gently brushed his lips against mine and then to my stomach. “Stay here, relax. I’ll make you breakfast. And then, well,” his lips found mine again. When he pulled away he winked and I heard myself giggle as he got up from the bed and practically ran from the bedroom.

That was the last time either of us had gotten up from that bed until two o’clock. And that was to shower—where we gave ourselves plenty of time considering Sydney didn’t get home until three. The whole time during that shower and most of the morning in bed, my husband’s hands never left my stomach. Instead, they rubbed it affectionately.

It was at about five o’clock when Sydney was sitting downstairs watching TV and Billie Joe was in the bathroom connected to our bedroom finally shaving the beard that he had been way too lazy to shave off recently. However, since it was our anniversary, he had promised he would since he had gotten his way and was taking Sydney and me out to dinner despite the fact that I told him multiple times that it was alright to stay home.

I was in the bathroom closest to Sydney’s room upstairs, carefully applying eye makeup while trying my best not to get any on the yellow sundress that I was wearing. I had picked out something that had pretty much shown off my growing stomach due to the fact that I wanted everyone to see that I was an expecting mother. After all, I was now sixteen weeks pregnant and in my opinion, I had every reason to be proud of the small human being growing inside of me.

It was now hard for me to lean over the counter easily, since my bump made it impossible to get as close to the mirror as I wanted to and I didn’t want to take chances on hurting the baby, making it nearly impossible to apply my eyeliner and mascara. When I had messed up for the fourth time, I looked down at my growing stomach and scowled. “You’re making this difficult,” I muttered.

I hadn’t expected a response.

Much to my surprise, as soon as I went to lean over the counter again as much as I could, I felt something move around inside of me. Immediately, I froze and stared down at my stomach, thinking of the worse. You crushed your baby. You crushed your fucking baby. Oh my fucking god, you killed Zach. You crushed your fucking baby. What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?!

I found myself begin to become frantic as I backed away from the counter and up against the wall, ready to scream for Billie Joe. However, as soon as I opened my mouth to call for the rock star, something in my stomach moved again. As quickly as I had started to flip out did I remember the feeling.

The feeling from fourteen years ago.

In absolute shock, I dropped my eyeliner pencil and placed my hands on my jutting out stomach, feeling tears well up in my eyes. After a few minutes of standing with both of my hands on my stomach did I finally feel the movement again—and I knew exactly what it was. “Billie!” I cried out, not daring to move, “Billie! Billie Joe! Billie Joe!

I allowed my emotions to take over as I felt a few tears leak down my cheeks while I laughed and held onto my stomach, rubbing it affectionately as my husband had done earlier that day. Within a few seconds, Billie Joe came crashing into the bathroom, blood trickling down his shaving-cream clad cheek while he held his razor in his hand. His eyes were wide as he dropped the razor like I had done to my eyeliner only a moment ago. “What?” He asked anxiously, “What? What? Joe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Is something wrong? Goddamnit, what?!”

“You’re bleeding,” I pointed out, completely ignoring his questions. I lifted a hand from my stomach and placed it on his cheek, wiping away at the spot that he had obviously cut when I had screamed his name.

Billie Joe wiped his cheek on the back of his arm, blood and shaving cream getting on it. He took my hand from his cheek and stepped closer to me. “Joe, what the fuck were you screaming about? Why are you crying and smiling? You just gave me a fucking heart attack, Joe!” I shook my head, grinning from ear to ear despite the tears. We both stood there for a minute or two while I waited for movement again and Billie Joe stared at me, looking as if he was ready to completely lose it and snap at me. Finally, after waiting I got what I was waiting for and placed both of his hands on my stomach. I watched as my husband stared down at my stomach and then up at me in shock. I giggled furiously at him, lifting my hand to wipe away the blood that was showing again as he continued to hold my stomach. “Is he…?” Billie Joe trailed off.

I nodded while grinning. “Yes, he’s kicking.”

“Holy shit,” Billie Joe mumbled and then laughed. He bent down so that he was kneeling before my stomach and replaced his hands with his cheek. “Isn’t it too early?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No, he’s actually right on time. They say sixteen weeks in the earliest time that you can feel an infant move.” I shrugged. “So that must mean he’s healthy.”

My husband chuckled. “Well, he should be. We’re treating him like a god and he hasn’t even shown himself yet.”

I giggled again and nodded, though was cut short at a knock at the open bathroom door. Both Billie Joe and I turned to see Sydney standing there with a cocked eyebrow. “Uh, I heard a lot of yelling,” she admitted looking between the two of us, “I was just wondering if everything was alright?” Billie Joe stood up and grabbed his daughter from where she was awkwardly standing at the threshold. He pulled her over wordlessly to where I was standing and he had been kneeling and placed her hands on my stomach. “What?” She asked slowly. However, in a few moments she was answered. Her response was just like the rest of ours with her eyes widening. “Oh my god,” she murmured, “Is he kicking?” We both nodded.

Billie Joe slid next to her to hold onto my stomach also, making it to multiple pairs of hands were currently resting on my body. Billie Joe leant in closer to me and gently kissed my lips sweetly, nuzzling his nose against my cheek [getting shaving cream on it] while Sydney continued to stare at my moving stomach.

A few minutes later, after Sydney had gone back downstairs to leave her father and I alone, Billie Joe had me back up against the wall while his lips caressed mine. I smiled against his gently kisses. “I think he wanted to say Happy Anniversary,” I murmured.

My husband chuckled while continuing to brush his lips against mine in short, sweet and repetitive kisses. “If you ever scream my name like that when we’re not having sex and you’re still pregnant, I’ll have to kill you and little Zachary here.”

I giggled, wiping the remaining shaving cream from his cheeks. I giggled more at how ridiculous the poor man looked with only half of his face shaved, though he silenced me quickly. “Would you rather me not have told you at all and kept it a secret?” Billie Joe shook his head. “Then shush.” I grinned as I ran my hand over his unshaven cheek, kissing t. “Now go shave. You look funny.”