Worry Rock

"I made breakfast."

I rubbed my eyes slowly, yawning. I looked over next to me, looking at Travis who was sitting on the bed in boxers and a t-shirt. "You can cook?" I croaked.

"Psht. Yeah." Travis sad as if he was offended. "I'm like, the best cook in my family. I'm probably better than that chef guy, Emril."

I groaned, rolling over underneath the duvet in the bed that Travis had let me stay in the night before, burying my head in the pillows. "God...you're just like Billie Joe with the damn ego."

"Sorry...How 'bout I make it up to you by serving you some of my professional breakfast?"

"You're unbelievable."

"Yet so damn real."

I laughed, swatting at his arm making him also laugh. "You're such a loser..." I muttered, stretching my arms over my head, "Such a loser. Maybe a good cook. But a loser."

"Yeah, yeah...tell me something I don't know."

I sighed, rolling over in the bed, pulling the covers over my head, wanting to fall back asleep. I felt something prod into my back, making me groan, swatting at whatever it was. I heard Travis laugh, poking my back once again, only to get swatted. "I'll give you five minutes to get your ass outta bed," Travis said.

"No...leave me alone..."

"Nope. Mand, your kid is up earlier than you are. Get your ass up and outta bed before I tackle you."

"You wouldn't tackle me. I'm too special, so- Oh my god put me down!!"

Travis chuckled, pulling me out from under the covers and throwing me over his shoulder, carrying me out of the room as I yelled at him. "Travis! Put me down!"

"Nope. Not til' I get into the kitchen. I told you to get up."

I groaned angrily, giving up all hope as he carried me down the stairs and into the kitchen where Sydney sat, a smirk appearing on her face as she watched Travis carry me in and put me down. I narrowed my eyes, looking up at him as he smiled innocently, hearing Sydney laugh at us. Travis turned to look at her, smiling, "Sydney, isn't my cooking kickass?"

"Mhm."

"See! Your mom doesn't believe me."

"Mom, it really is good. He's a good cook."

"I never said he wasn't!" I groaned, swatting at Travis's arm.

Travis laughed, pulling me over to the table and sitting me down, wanting me to try whatever he had made. "Go ahead, try it."

I looked up at him slowly, hesitating, "You didn't, like, poison it or somethin'...did you? Is that why you want me to eat it so bad?"

"Look at Sydney." I looked at her, "Is she still alive?"

"...Yes."

"Then I promise I did nothing to it."

***

The house was silent when Sydney and I stepped into it. Sydney stumbled over to the couch, plopping down on it as I made my way up to stairs and into our bedroom, only to find the blinds closed along with the door, making the room completely dark, despite the fact that it was sunny out.

"Someone seemed to be in a bright mood..." I muttered in a low voice to myself, stalking over to the window.

I looked back over my shoulder at the mess of clothes on the floor, before pulling the curtains apart, and pulling the blinds up. I heard a groan come from a lump of blankets and pillows in the middle of the bed. My eyes widened as I stared at it, before laughing to myself, realizing who and what it was. "Turn off the lights, mom..." It grumbled, moving around slowly.

I snickered, opening the other curtains and blinds, making the lump groan once again. "I know it may seem like it, Billie, but I'm not your mother. And I can't turn out the lights. It's impossible to turn the sun off."

I turned and watched as the lump of covers twisted and turned, slowly sliding off the bed as Billie Joe appeared out from under them, still wrapped up in a few. He groaned, blinking his eyes, not adjusted to the sunlight, before turning and looking at me. "Oh." He said softly, "Oh. Hi. Morning."

"Afternoon," I corrected, but non-the-less smiled, picking up a few stray pieces of clothing.

"Oh. What time is it?"

"A little after one. Rough night?"

"Lonely night..." I heard him mumble, not sure if he wanted me to hear it or not, "Yeah. I was watching tv until two or somethin'...So, you stayed with Travis?"

"I didn't stay in a hotel, did I?" I snipped, giving him a rough glare, making him wince at the words.

"No...no...guess not." He said, looking down at his legs, scratching at the back of his neck, "So he gave you a spare room, yeah?"

"No. He slept in the same bed as me."

"Oh...really?"

"No." I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Oh...Joe, c'mon, I said I was sorry for being a bitch...please stop being bitter."

"I'm not being bitter, Billie Joe-"

"Yeah you are." He said, pulling his body off of the bed and stalking into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door.

"I smiled at you, didn't I?" I asked, making the bed he had just climbed out of.

"Yeah, and I called you last night and told you I loved you." He said, flushing the toilet and reappearing back in the bedroom, scratching his lower torso, "But you were too mad at me to continue the conversation."

"Don't give me that crap, Billie Joe. You pissed me off earlier. I had every right to be mad at you-"

"I know. And I'm not saying you didn't. I was a bitch, I fucked up," He rolled his eyes, "The usual."

"What do you mean the usual?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I mean the usual. The usual reasons your mad at me. The usual reasons I have to apologize. Usually, it's because I fucked up, I was a bitch, I made you annoyed. It's all the same, over and over."

I threw the pillow I had been throwing down on the bed, fed up with his attitude, "Oh fuck you." I snapped, "It's not my fault you're a dick. Jesus, Billie, you fucking make me regret coming home at all. I was fine with Travis. All you're doing is making me angry. You should get pointers from Travis or someone on how to treat a woman."

"No thanks," He sneered, "I'm not too keen on married women."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, trying my hardest not to go farther into the argument that we were already in.

He rolled his eyes, "That man has wanted you since the day he met you."

"Oh fuck yourself." I grunted.

"Gladly. But he might get jealous."

My mouth dropped open, before I rolled my eyes angrily, storming out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

So much for saying sorry.

***

"It's nice to see you and Tre made up..." I muttered, spinning the straw in my milkshake.

Rachel smiled lopsidedly at me, taking a sip of her drink, watching my body sink lower against the table, my head slipping out of the palm of my hand. "I'm sorry about being a bitch to you when we did, though." She said softly.

"Oh...you bitched at me? I forgot."

She smiled lightly, running a hand through her hair. "Mand, it's okay, maybe Billie's just mad?"

"Gee, you think?" I muttered.

She sighed, watching me pathetically, "Okay, well, maybe he's jealous?"
"Of what?"

"The fact that you stayed at Travis's?"

"It's his own goddamn fault! The stupid prick had to go and being a stupid ass!" I cried out angrily, earning looks from people who passed by the small café, "If he wasn't such a jerk the day Tre came over to speak to you, we would be fine! But now he's fucking saying how Travis is interested in me, and a bunch of shit. He's jumping to fucking conclusions that make us fight."

"He isn't?"

"What?" I spat, raging now.

"Travis. He isn't interested?"

"Oh jesus...fuck you, Rachel..." I grunted, burying my head in my arms, "Travis is my best guy friend, and always will be. Fuck both of you. Go talk to Billie Joe, I'm sure you two would get along perfectly right now."

Rachel laughed lightly, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Mand, I'm kidding. Billie Joe'll get over it. He's always been like that. He hates other men who are good lookin', and who are your friend."

"I'm his wife, Rachel. I think it's time he should take the stick out of his ass. I'm going to have friends. It's not my fault Travis is good looking."

"Yeah," She agreed, "Too bad he couldn't be ugly. Like my brother."

"Rachel!"

"Sorry..." She mumbled, although a sheepish smile was on her lips, "We don't get along."

"Apparently neither do Billie and I."

***

The glass door to the shower slid open, Billie Joe sticking his head out, trying to find a towel. "Fuck." He grunted, "She did laundry again and left no damn towels..."

He groaned, stepping out of the shower, searching under the sink for a towel, making a mess. He grunted, pulling out a small towel that would probably barely fit him, before kicking the cabinet closed, not bothering to pick up everything he had put on the floor as he wrapped the towel around his small waist. He looked down at his wet body, rolling his eyes, the towel barely fitting as he predicted.

Billie Joe pulled the door to the bedroom open, stumbling out of the bathroom, making sure the other door that lead to the hallway was closed. I wonder where the fuck she is now, he thought, pulling open a drawer, I'll be amazed if she shows up tonight.

As if on que, the bedroom door was pushed open, and I walked in, shrugging off my jacket. I looked over at Billie Joe, turning away almost immediately. "Sorry," I muttered, "Didn't know you weren't decent."

Billie Joe shrugged, dropping the towel and pulling on a pair of boxers quickly, "Nothin you haven't seen in the past years."

"Right...right..." I said slowly, letting my hair down as an awkward silence filled the bedroom, both of us too stubborn to talk.

We both shuffled around the room in silence for a while, Billie Joe going over to lay on the bed, turning the television on, even though he wasn't interested in watching anything at the moment. He watched me for a moment, biting his bottom lip, before rolling his eyes, sitting up. "So where were you today?"

"Is that really any of your business?" I snapped, making him sigh.

"Joe, please, just talk to me-"

"I did earlier, Billie Joe. And you know, I got snapped at."

"I was angry...cuz...cuz...you didn't come home last night...and I wanted to be with you...but you stayed with Travis. Not me."

"Because you made me angry, Billie Joe." I mumbled, resting a hand on my hip, "Because you acted like a complete jerk."

"I'm sorry..." He said, bowing his head as if he were a small child getting yelled at by his parents. "I know...I'm sorry..."

I sighed, kicking my shoes off as I went over and sat on the bed next to him, folding my legs indian style as he looked over at me from the side of his eyes, trying not to show that it bothered him that I wasn't saying anything, even though it was. He looked back to the television slowly, before looking over back to me getting slightly impatient.

"Baby...I'm really sorry," He cooed, sitting up in the bed on his knees, tilting his head to the side as he looked at me. He forced one of those killer smiles, trying to get me to give into him so we could forget about the argument we'd had. He hesitated before slowly crawling closer to me, straddling me.

He's going to act all cute and helpless now.

"Mmm...I'm sorry," he whispered, placing a kiss on my neck, looking at me through the side of his eyes, a playful smirk sliding onto his lips as his kisses went lower down my neck, his hands placing themselves on my chest, "I'm sorry..."

I groaned, hating yet loving when he did this. "Billie...please..."

"I'm sorry," He repeated, dragging his lips back up my neck, a sly smile replacing the smirk.

"Okay...okay...it's okay, Billie..."

"Mm...no...but I'm really sorry."

He moved his body closer to my own, his lips finding my own as he slid his hand to the back of my neck, trying to hide the grin that was starting to re-appear on his lips. "I'm sorry..."

*

"Daddy?"

Billie Joe looked up from the beer his eyes had been focusing on for the past few hours, or minutes. Give or take a few.

He looked down at the five year old who tugged at his pant leg, her tiny hand wrapped around the fabric. He forced a sweet smile, unwrapping his hand around the Budweiser, bending down to lift the small girl up. He placed her on his knee, his tattooed arm resting around her tiny waist to keep her from falling. "Hey sweetie," He murmured, pressing his lips to her temple gently.

She looked up at her dad, resting her head back on his chest, her small hand resting against his, "Why were you and mommy yelling before?"

Billie Joe looked down at his daughter through bloodshot eyes, forcing another smile. "Oh. Oh, we just had a small argument. Nothing bad, sweetie." He lied, looking back to the bottle of beer.

"Oh...okay...why was mommy crying?"

"I...uh..." He ran a hand through his dark hair quickly, fixating his eyes on a magazine on the counter, "Because daddy messed up, baby."

"Oh..." She said softly, squirming around in her fathers arms, standing up on his knee. She reached over to him, placing her tiny hands on his neck and chest to balance herself, puckering her lips and kissing her saddened father on his stubbled cheek sweetly, "It's okay, daddy, I forgive you. For whatever you did. And mommy will, too."

Billie Joe looked over to his daughter, smiling from the side of his mouth as he pressed his lips to her temple once again, pulling her small body against his, his arm wrapped around her stomach as she continued to stand on his knee. He loved being a father.

"Thanks, Sid baby." He murmured, "And I hope so."

"Why don't you just say sowwy?" She asked, sitting back down on his knee once again, looking back up at him.

He shrugged slowly, taking a sip of the beer before resting it back on the counter, "Because, baby, it's not that simple."

"Oh...why? When I do something bad you or mommy always make me say sowwy, and that's all."

Billie Joe sighed, resting his chin on her head, drumming his fingers on the counter. "But, babe, that's because you're small and innocent. You can't do no harm yet. Daddy's done harm, baby, and when you do as much harm as I did, sometimes...sometimes sorry isn't all it takes. Sometimes sorry ain't good enough."