After Midnight

Mika awoke tangled in white bed sheets and bathed in pale, grey light. He could hear the morning rain rapping against the windows, soft and clean, and he turned his head at once towards the warmth at his side, taking in the sight of his late-night visitor. He was curled in the centre of the double bed, his sleeping face smeared with the remains of his makeup, bleached blonde hair tousled and still-damp against his pillows.

Mika sighed, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself on his forearms, then sliding his hands into his wild curls. He felt a buzz of nerves begin to dance low in his belly, the absurdity of the situation revealing itself fully in the cold light of day. Suddenly, he wondered if it mattered how Billie Joe had made him feel. He had been drunk – possibly even blindly so – and there was no telling what his reaction would be when he woke up and found himself miles from his hotel, in a foreign city with a perfect stranger that just happened to teach him to play piano one time. The thought that he may not even remember how he got here made his stomach turn and he rubbed his eyes, in weary vexation, pulling himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He never had been one for one-night stands.

He stumbled, sleepily, into the bathroom, steadying himself with one hand against the wall and feeling a wave of heady reminiscence wash over him at the sight of the water still pooled on the tiles and the trail of wet clothing that led from the shower across the floor. He closed his eyes, avoided his reflection in the mirror, and then closed the door.

In the bedroom, the sound of Billie Joe’s phone buzzing gently on the wooden floor was rousing him, slowly, to consciousness. His dishevelled blonde head appeared, sluggishly, from under the covers, sleepy eyes blinking in hazy confusion. He let out a small groan, as his surroundings slid into focus, then crawled down the bed just far enough that he could stretch to reach his phone. He answered it with a muffled growl.

“Where the hell are you/?”

Billie Joe rubbed a hand over his face, flopping backwards onto the mattress with a long sigh.

“Uh...”

“Billie Joe, it’s ten-fucking-thirty. We have a flight at one. Last time I saw you, you were so wasted you couldn’t walk straight, then you disappeared. I was worried.”

Billie Joe squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mike... chill out...” he mumbled, “I’m okay, I just...”

“Where are you?”

Billie Joe sighed. He had him there.

“In an apartment in uh...” He took his hand away from his eyes, to glance around for clues. “... London.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Mike replied, wryly, “Listen, you have to get your ass back here before Bill finds out you’re missing and freaks. You are okay... right?”

“Fine...” he replied, groggily, “... Fine... Mike...”

He turned his head, slowly, at the sound of creaking floorboards, to see Mika hanging, nervously, in the doorway, his arms folded, almost protectively, over his shirtless chest. Billie Joe stared at him for a moment, before his gaze was broken by the demanding voice in his ear.

“Listen, Mike... I’ll get back real soon,” he murmured into the phone, pretending not to notice Mike’s protest, as he dropped the phone onto the bed and turned his attention back towards the figure in the doorway.

“... Hey,” he said, carefully, unable to help a smile from pulling at the corner of his mouth. “... I wondered where you got to.”

“You were, um... sleeping, so. And y’know, I had to... are you feeling alright?”

Billie Joe raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

Mika stared at him.

“’Cause, you were drunk last night. Like, really drunk and... I just wanted to say... y’know, sorry if I-”

“Hey...” Billie Joe interrupted, holding up a hand, “Is there any reason you’re all the way over there? ... Fuck, I didn’t puke in your room, did I?”

Mika paused, in alarm.

“Er... no. You actually didn’t puke anywhere at all, which was sort of impressive considering all the crap you were drinking. I just... do you, um... remember..."

Billie Joe smiled.

“Mika, please. I have years of practice at getting really drunk. Of course I remember, you ass... quit looking so worried, you didn’t, like, kidnap me or anything. I’m a big boy, I came here all by myself.”

Mika smiled, timidly, a mixture of relief and excitement stirring through him, as he took a few tentative steps toward the bed.

“Well...” he pointed out, “That’s not strictly true... I think I sorta carried you the last mile or so. You told me we could sleep in somebody’s hedge.”

Billie Joe bit his lip, and Mika could have sworn he noticed his cheeks blush, just barely. His tangled blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, as he tilted his head downward and pulled the bedsheets closer around his body, suddenly noticing the chill in the airy room.

Billie Joe watched Mika closely, as he crawled back onto the bed and settled himself next to him, feeling a strange shiver run through him, as the memories of the way he had touched him the night before began to return, one by one. His hair was chaotic and sleep-ruffled, his boyish features roughened a little around the edges with a light scruff of stubble, but his dark eyes were soft and bright and Billie Joe found himself momentarily unable to find any words at all.

“Billie Joe...”

Mika felt his heart skip, when the guitarist’s hand raised, slowly, to his cheek, and the light coming in from the window lit up green eyes that were, all of a sudden, irresistibly beautiful.

“I remember it all...” Billie Joe told him, in a whisper, “And... I’m not planning on forgetting.”

Mika swallowed, a shaky breath leaving his lips, as he found himself lost in their gaze. He leaned closer, one hand coming to rest against the warm, bare skin of Billie Joe’s hip, his eyes sliding closed as he met Billie Joe’s lips in a tentative kiss. Billie Joe dropped his eyes, as they parted, and Mika smiled, seeing a shyness in him that he hadn’t ever seen before.

“You want some tea?” he asked, softly.

“Sure...” Billie Joe replied, with a smile.

Mika nodded, glancing toward the door.

“Uh, Billie... I think all your clothes are sort of...”

“Soaked with water and smelling like beer?”

“Exactly,” Mika grinned, “D’you want to borrow something?”

“Yeah, y’know... that’d really help a lot...” Billie Joe responded, watching as Mika got to his feet again and began to rummage through the drawers on the far side of his bedroom. He smiled, when a pair of jeans flew across the room in his direction, then caught them with one hand. “Thanks, man...”

Mika would have found it hard to wipe the smile from his face if he had even tried, as he busied himself in the kitchen. Instead, he found himself holding back giggles of nervous excitement, boiling the kettle and setting out two mugs on the counter, his mind a never-ending slideshow of the previous evening’s pursuits.

He knew he would remember the night forever. It had been a rollercoaster of exhilaration, desire and electric magnetism, and fact that it had taken place at all was unbelievable enough. Now he had Billie Joe waking up in his bed, sleepy and beautiful, with just enough vulnerability to make his heart melt, he could scarcely believe he wasn’t dreaming.

He continued to smile to himself as he stirred their tea, suddenly startled when he felt cool fingers brush the skin of his waist. His heart skipped out a beat and he turned his face to see a blonde head settling behind his shoulder, before a pair of colourful arms wrapped around his waist from behind. He grinned, stupidly, when he felt a scratchy chin and warm lips brush his skin.

“Hi...” he murmured, turning in his arms and pressing a mug of warm tea into his hands. He couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of Billie Joe in his jeans, which he had had to roll up at least five times to get them to fit. “Lookin’ good...”

Billie Joe smirked.

“Don’t laugh...” he said, his eyes glinting, “There really isn’t any use in being that tall.”

Mika tried to hold his laughter in but found that it slipped out anyway.

“That isn’t true,” he smiled, teasingly, “I get a great view when I go to see trashy garage bands pack out London clubs.”

Billie Joe smiled and Mika grinned at him.

“You were good though,” he told him, “I’m not sure how you did it, but you were good.”

Billie Joe chuckled, modestly.

“I’m not sure either,” he admitted, “But I think I was having so much fun I didn’t care if I was good or not... and it sure was a surprise when I saw you standing there...”

Mika bit his lip, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Well,” he replied, “It was kind of a surprise to see you too. I didn’t really plan on stopping off at a gig on my way home but... I thought you guys might be worth a listen.”

Billie Joe smiled at his bashful eyes.

“I’m glad you came,” he told him, softly, and Mika could only smile.

“So...” Mika murmured, after a long moment of silence, watching as Billie Joe leaned back against the kitchen counter and brought his tea to his lips. “How’s your head this morning?”

Billie Joe’s eyes smiled at him over the rim of his cup.

“My head’s feelin’ okay,” he replied, a little sheepishly, hauling himself onto the edge of the kitchen counter, “Actually, I don’t get hangovers.”

Mika shook his head in amused disbelief, letting his eyes trace the splash of tattoos that crossed Billie Joe’s shoulders, reminded of the way his warm skin had felt beneath his fingers. The memory stirred up a warm flutter in his stomach and he tried to push it to another corner of his mind, before it brought a telltale colour to his cheeks that he didn’t want his house guest to see.

He cleared his throat, turning toward the fridge and pulling it open, relishing the way the cool air felt against his hot face. He scanned the contents with a heavy heart.

“Uh... I’m not really at home much, so... options are sort of limited.”

Billie Joe grinned at him from across the kitchen.

“It’s cool. I know how it is.”

Mika smiled at him over his shoulder, then closed the fridge door.

“Yeah, well... I’m sorry,” he replied, ambling back towards him, “It’s not really the five-star breakfast experience you’d have had at the Dorchester.”

Billie Joe shrugged, a mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, that’s okay...” he countered, “There were other experiences that were five-star, after all.”

There was no stopping that blush on its way to Mika’s cheeks now, and Billie Joe couldn’t help but giggle at his shyness, as he slid off the counter onto the floor. He sighed, gently, as he came to stand in front of the younger man, looking up into his nervous brown eyes.

“You know... I actually should be getting back to the hotel,” he told him softly, his voice carrying a trace of regret, “We’re flying to Germany this afternoon for the EMAs and...”

Mika nodded, trying to ignore the ache around his heart.

“... Your band is probably wondering where you are,” he agreed, “You should probably send my apologies for abducting you.”

Billie Joe grinned, reaching up, tentatively, to brush a curl of hair from Mika’s forehead. He looked older in the morning light, with his hair wild and unruly and his youthful skin shadowed with stubble. He wasn’t sure how anyone could manage to look that good in the morning, and he was almost tempted to ask what the secret was.

“Yeah,” he smiled, softly, “I think I might have some explaining to do...”

Mika looked down at the kitchen floor, avoiding the intensity of Billie Joe’s gaze.

“Do you, um... want me to call you a cab?”

Billie Joe nodded, trying and failing to catch his eyes.

“Thanks, that’d be good...” he nodded, gratefully, “And uh... any chance I could borrow a shirt? It is kind of cold in this town.”

Mika looked up with a wide grin.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “I’m sure I can find you something.”

Mika thought back to times he had spent in the past, pacing his flat in frustration whilst waiting for late taxis, with a heavy sense of bitterness. This one managed to park in the street outside within ten minutes of him booking it and its arrival started a flutter of panic in his stomach. He didn’t feel ready, not yet, despite Billie Joe standing in his hallway wearing his clothes, having collected up the few belongings he had come with. Mika attempted to drag his eyes from the guitarist, noticing that he was managing to make his outfit look better than he had ever seen it look in the mirror.

“Well,” Billie Joe began, his voice deceptively light, “I guess that’s my ride.”

Mika nodded.

“Yeah... oh, d’you want your clothes?”

Billie Joe grinned.

“I own about three hundred pairs of black pants and I’m pretty sure that shirt won’t ever be white again,” he assured him, “Feel free to throw them out.”

Mika nodded, smiling. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be doing that.

Billie Joe glanced, anxiously, toward the door, then back towards Mika. It seemed like it was now his turn to look nervous.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes...”

“No problem... you can keep ‘em, if you like.”

Billie Joe nodded.

“Or,” he suggested, quietly, “... Maybe, I can like... give ‘em back to you next time. Sometime.”

The taxi sounded its horn, loud and impatient, down on the street outside, and Mika jumped, looking towards the window with irritation. Billie Joe’s suggestion had left his heart racing and he was suddenly desperate to continue their conversation.

“Yeah?” Mika questioned, his voice breaking with nerves.

“Yeah, I mean... y’know, if you want to.” Billie Joe’s eyes were soft and sincere and Mika felt his knees go weak, as he met them with his own. “We could, like, switch numbers and... then maybe next time I’m in town, we could hook up or something. Maybe I could even be sober. Or, y’know... we could just leave it up to fate and maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime...”

“Well... I’m not sure coincidences like that come along very often,” Mika replied, fishing his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and smiling, when Billie Joe did the same. He hoped that the guitarist didn’t notice his fingers trembling, as he punched in his number, then tucked it away again and turned back to him.

Mika’s breath halted, silently, in his throat, when Billie Joe’s hands came to rest above his hips, then wound around his waist to pull him closer. He sighed into the hug, his nose pressing into tousled blonde and his eyes closing in quiet appreciation, as he inhaled the scent of his hair.

The horn sounded again and he felt Billie Joe’s small shoulders slump a little, before he pulled back, then pressed a soft kiss to Mika’s lips that was over so quickly it left him aching for more.

“Bye...” Mika murmured, “Safe trip...”

He felt his stomach do another little flip, as Billie Joe whispered his own goodbye, accompanied by one of the lopsided smiles that always made him feel as though parts of him were melting. Then the front door was opening, and Billie Joe was walking through it, and the window pane was cold against his finger tips as he watched him jog down the front steps and onto the street outside.

His shaky breath left his mouth in a hazy fog, which clouded the glass just enough that he barely noticed the uncertainty in Billie Joe’s steps, as he crossed the road. He gave the window a wipe with his sleeve, his eyes still trained on the guitarist, suddenly finding it difficult to believe that Billie Joe Armstrong was standing in the middle of the street outside, let alone that Billie Joe Armstrong had woken up in his bed that morning, and for a moment he was too busy chuckling at himself to notice that the taxi was still parked up on the roadside and Billie Joe was walking away from it.

In a second, he was in the hallway again, his heart pounding in hope and confusion, skipping out completely, when he heard footsteps echoing in the stairwell outside his front door. He pulled it open to see Billie Joe, breathless, flushed and apparently speechless, on his doorstep.

“Are you... okay?” Mika asked him, finally managing to compose himself, after a moment of hesitation.

Billie Joe nodded, his eyes not leaving Mika’s.

“Yeah... I, uh... I forgot my wallet, did you see it anywhere? My wallet?”

Mika looked at him, in confusion, as he slipped past him into the hallway, striding towards the kitchen, where he paused in the doorway, then turned back around.

“No...” Mika replied, shaking his head, “I don’t think you left it anywhere around here...d’you want me to go and check?”

Billie Joe slid his hands into the pockets of his (or rather, Mika’s) jeans, staring at the younger man silently for a moment, then shaking his head, without breaking their gaze.

“No, that’s okay, I just...” he sighed, bringing his hands up to his hair for a moment, then striding, purposefully towards him.

Mika felt his stomach drop, as Billie Joe took his face in his hands, and he barely had time to draw breath before Billie Joe’s mouth met his own in a kiss that was searing and passionate, and Mika’s arms were around him in seconds, pulling him closer in desperation and relief. Billie Joe’s fingers were tangling in Mika’s hair, Mika’s fingers grazing the warm skin to be found beneath his own t shirt, and he heard a broken moan leave his own throat, as Billie Joe pushed him back up against the wall, his lips leaving Mika’s to trace the rough skin of the singer’s jaw, his ear, his neck, all the while leaving Mika sure that his heart was about to hammer into a thousand pieces and not caring a jot if it did.

Mika took in a gasping breath, one hand sliding into the hair at the nape of Billie Joe’s neck and the other gripping his waist and the hallway might as well have been spinning as he felt the guitarist’s teeth graze, gently, at his collarbone.

“Fuck...” Mika whispered, brokenly, his words melting into a low moan, when Billie Joe’s warm tongue slid against the hot skin of his neck. He wanted to tell him exactly how incredible it felt, how captivating he was and how desperately he didn’t want him to leave, but none of it made it out of his own scrambled mind before Billie Joe’s mouth covered his own again and he was swallowing a guttural moan that he hoped to mean Billie was enjoying it all at least as much as he was.

Their kisses were deep, frenzied and, Mika thought, fiercely romantic, with Billie Joe continuing to lean into him, holding his weight on the toes of his battered converse shoes. Mika’s breath was heavy and discordant, his fingers bunching fabric at the small of Billie Joe’s back, then sliding down to the back pocket of his jeans, where they settled on a small, hard object that had him grinning into the hot skin just below the guitarist’s jaw.

“Bill...” he giggled, between kisses, “I found your wallet... in your pocket...”

Billie Joe laid a hand against Mika’s face, guiding their eyes to meet, then flashing that grin that always had been Mika’s favourite.

“It is?” he giggled, “... well, thanks. I guess I didn’t need to come back up after all...”

“I’m sort of glad you did...” Mika admitted, with a smile, and Billie Joe smiled back, as he kissed him again.

The taxi’s horn broke through the heated atmosphere for just a moment, and Billie Joe groaned against Mika’s shoulder.

“You know he’s on a meter, right?” Mika smiled, and he felt Billie Joe sigh a little, through the cotton of his shirt.

“Yeah...” he mumbled, “But that was probably worth the extra.”

Mika sighed, a little wistfully, as Billie Joe’s arms left him, and the guitarist stretched up for one more kiss, before turning to look toward the door.

“Thanks for making sure I didn’t sleep in somebody’s driveway...” he smiled.

“No problem,” Mika grinned, “... Maybe you could check in at this hotel again sometime...”

Billie Joe nodded, his fingers finding Mika’s for just long enough to give them a gentle squeeze between his own.

“See you around, Baby Girl...” Mika smiled, and Billie Joe gave him a wide grin in response, before lifting his hand in a small wave, then heading out of the door.

The taxi driver was irate, but Billie Joe didn’t care. He barely heard his growl of indignation, when he asked him to take him to Mayfair as fast as possible, too busy fumbling with his phone in the back seat to notice. He craned his neck to look out of the window, taking one last glance up at the flat where he had spent the night, as the taxi pulled away down the street and he tucked his phone back into the pocket of his borrowed jeans, with a smile.

Mika watched the polished black cab draw away down the street, feeling something dull and heavy settle low in the pit of his stomach. A sudden buzzing in his pocket startled him, and he managed to retrieve his phone without his eyes once leaving the retreating taxi, as it turned the corner at the end of the street and disappeared from view. He sighed, then looked down.

You’re beautiful. And I knew where my wallet was. x

Mika grinned, then headed for his piano.