You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Billie grumbled as he took his basket of laundry from the car to the laundromat. Where the fuck were all of the roadies and interns eager to do all of his dirty work for him when he needed them? He briefly thought of asking a fan to do it for him, but realized that all of his underwear was likely to disappear in the process. He struggled to get the basket through the door, cursing under his breath at the dilemma. Fucking laundry.

He took the basket to the nearest washer and dumped all of his clothes in, not bothering to sort lights and darks in his current state of frustration. He poured nearly a whole box of that powdered soap in and slammed the lid, attracting the attention of his fellow customers like they thought he was fucking Charles Manson.

“Stupid, fucking piece of shit.”

“Need some help?” He jumped at the familiarity and proximity of the voice. She laughed.

“Ava? What are you doing here?”

“Laundry.” She stated, raising her eyebrow at him.

“What a coincidence.” He deadpanned and gestured to the mess he had created.

“Yeah, I gathered that.” She smirked. “So, are you struggling over here, or does it just look that way from where I was sitting?”

“No, I think I might actually need help.” He admitted sheepishly.

She grinned. “Okay, lemme see what I can do.” She pulled the lid up and looked in. “Billie, you used way to much fucking soap.”

“So?”

“So, you wanna flood the entire place like a fucking bubble bath? We're gonna have to move these to a different machine.” She walked over and opened the door of the neighboring washer and looked at him expectantly. “Well, come on.”

Ava taught him the basics, like fucking separating colors and using the marks on the cup to measure how much detergent one needs to wash a load.

“How do you normally do your laundry? Do you hire someone, or does your mom do it for you?” She smirked.

The truth was, Billie Joe didn't know how to do laundry because he'd been married for over ten years and Adrienne always did his laundry, and his mom had actually done it before that.

“I have someone do it for me, in exchange for blow jobs, you know.”

“Typical.”

“Yeah, cause you're definitely Miss Susy Homemaker. You separate colors and use special detergents to get out grease stains?”

“I see your learning quickly. And I told you I have some hidden talents.”

“Like boiling water?”

“That's just one of many.”

“What other talents do you have?” She smirked and bit her lip, casting her eyes toward
him. He swallowed, hard.

“Well, I can't just give them all away, now can I?” She used her arms to press her breasts against her t-shirt, pretending like she was fucking stretching and entirely unaware of the effect her move had on him. She was definitely flirting with him. “You'll just have to wait and see.”

“Yeah?” He paled at her suggestion. She nodded, lip still secured between her soft pink lips.

“Oh yeah.” He was nearly squirming at her words, cursing inwardly as she kept her cool. “You wanna get out of here? I figure there's gotta be something to do along the next few blocks while we wait.”

“Yeah, sure.”
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“So these guys let us stay at their place, after a gig up in Hartford. So, we're hanging out then me and Danielle decide to go and seek out a place to stay that isn't totally taken by fucking couples or pizza boxes, and we open a this one door, and no lie, fucking preserved body parts and eyeballs and shit all over the place. Creepiest shit I've ever seen.” Billie laughed.

They were walking down the sidewalk, around the outskirts of a small city, the drive had been about ten minutes from the stadium. It was warm; the sun beat down on them, but not to the point where it was unbearable like back home. The sun shone on Ava's hair, bringing out the subtle blonde natural highlights running through it. She wore those mirrored aviators that she'd had on the day they met. Billie couldn't see her eyes at all, it made him kind of nervous. Her remarks were witty or flirty half the time and he had to rely on her eyes for any truth. Now he felt like he was trekking the amazon without a map, but hell, women made him feel like that all the time.

“We wound up at a dude's house who had a really fucking human head in a jar named Sleepy.” Ava spit out the soda she had been drinking. She stared at the mess for one beat, then they both laughed in spite of it.

“No fucking way. A real head?”

“I swear. Scouts honor.” He held up his hand. Ava hit his arm and they both grinned.

“You were never a scout.” She grinned.

“How do you know?” He tried to sound offended.

“You don't have the balls to be a boy scout.”

“What!?”

“You heard me, pussy.” She grinned as he dropped his jaw in mock astonishment.

“I don't huh?”

“Not a chance.”

“You're wrong.”

“Prove it.”

He stalked over to her, his eyes dark except for the small gleam of playfulness that she could read. He lunged for her and grabbed her middle, she struggled against him, dropping the soda on the ground, the two only stopping briefly to realize that the sticky substance was pooling at their feet. He wrestled with her on the street, until he secured her arms in his hands and held them, lifting them above her head. His face was close, a little too close, actually. She could smell the gum on his breath.

“What do you have to say now, princess?” He smirked.

She raised an eyebrow back at him. “You think this is it?”

He mimicked her expression.

“You're still gonna have to catch me.” And she darted out from under his arm faster than
he could realize she was gone. She ran, laughing madly as he started after her, both of them pushing past pedestrians as carefully as possible. Ava checked over her shoulder ever few seconds, seeing Billie hot on her tail in pursuit. She jumped a small step and took off. Billie willed his feet to speed up and missed the step, tripping forward and landing flat on his face.

“Fuck!”

Ava turned and laughed outright at what she saw. The raven haired man trying to push himself up from the pavement with a rip in his old t-shirt and a bloody cut on his arm. She turned around and made her way back to him, hopping the step and kneeling beside him.

“You okay?” She tried to sound concerned as he grumbled but only laughed harder at the frustration visible on his features.

“Stupid, fucking, son of a bitch-” He grumbled as she stood and took his arm, leading him away from the culprit. She pulled him towards the nearest bench and the two sat simultaneously, her hand still resting on his forearm. He brushed himself off and looked at her, grinning at the huge smile on her face.

“You think this is fucking great, don't you?”

“Just a little bit,” She motioned with her free fingers. He knew he shouldn't even think about it, but he liked the feel of her fingers curling around his bicep.

“What's so great, me being in pain?”

“No, the fact that I still won. And now you're moaning about that scrape on your arm, prima donna. You've only proved me right.”

“Yeah, okay, you fucking win.”

She grinned wolfishly, “I knew you'd get it right eventually.”