Riding On The Night Train

Billie Joe woke to the sound of footsteps out in the hall; soft and first, then heavy and accompanied by shrill voices speaking in a language he didn't understand. French, he thought, but he was too sleepy to be sure. There was a tumble of soft laughter before the footsteps began to fade again and he blinked in the sunlight that was streaming into the room through the open window on the far side. He wondered what time it was; there wasn't a clock in the room and he didn't wear a watch. His cellphone was in the pocket of his jacket, which was still strewn on the floor by the door but this, for the moment, was much too far away for him to consider retrieving.

He rolled over, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm and then blinking the room, gently, into focus. Mika was sleeping next to him, sprawled on his stomach with one arm folded beneath his head and the other flung out to the side, his hair a mess of dark curls on the pillow. He looked young, Billie Joe thought, despite the day-old scruff across his jaw, and he found himself reaching out a hand to touch his fingertips to the warm skin of his cheek. The gentle action made Mika's long eyelashes flutter a little and Billie Joe smiled, sighing sleepily, as he retracted his hand. He was fucking beautiful like this and the realisation that he could happily watch him sleep all morning was almost frightening.

Mika seemed able to feel his gaze because he opened one eye, sleepily, then smiled at the sight of Billie Joe stretched out next to him.

“... Hi,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Hey there.”

Mika closed his eyes again, stretching like a cat, then raised his dishevelled head and glanced, blearily, around the room. It looked even worse in the daylight than it had at night and that amused him. He winced a little, as he rolled onto his side, feeling altogether achy and exhausted and Billie Joe trailed his hand along the contour of his bare back, his eyes shadowing with concern.

“Y'alright?”

Mika nodded, feeling a pleasant shiver roll through his body, underneath Billie Joe's gentle touch.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little... tired.”

He watched the corner of Billie Joe's mouth lift in a crooked smile, as he took his hand back and used it to prop his head up on the pillow. Mika couldn't help his eyes roam from his strong shoulders down to his narrow waist, where the rest of him disappeared beneath the bedclothes. He felt a soft flutter in the pit of his stomach, remembering the way his body had felt beneath his own fingers and the way it had looked when he had watched him fall asleep at dawn. His hair was mussed, his green eyes sleepy and he felt himself becoming lost in them all over again, only vaguely aware of how long they had been staring at each other in silence when it was broken by another round of commotion outside. He smiled, glancing over his shoulder towards the door.

“Where the hell are we, Billie?”

“I got no fuckin' idea,” Billie Joe chuckled, shaking his head, “... I don't remember caring. I'm pretty sure I paid for it with the change I had left over in my pocket though... so I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain't the Hilton.”

Billie Joe tilted his head, half-listening to the garbled conversation outside.

“I think she's speaking in, like... French or something. I mean, fuck, I don't remember coming that far...”

Mika nodded, rolling on to his back and smiling up at the ceiling.

“She is. She's bollocking her friend for using all her shampoo. Her friend just told her to shut up and get ready for breakfast.”

Billie Joe raised an eyebrow, then let out a little laugh of surprise.

“Woah, there. You speak French?”

He turned his head to face Billie Joe again, amusement in his eyes.

“Oui.... didn't I mention that?”

“No. Fucking awesome. You're gonna have to talk French to me though, or I won't really believe you.”

Mika chuckled, rolling his eyes and thinking for a moment, then smirking up at the ceiling.

“Er... Tu est mignonne dans la matinee?”

Billie Joe grinned.

“What did that mean?”

“It meant... I'd really like some coffee.”

“Bullshit!” Billie Joe laughed and Mika laughed with him, as the guitarist shifted close enough to dig warm fingers under his ribs. He ignored Mika's giggles of protest, as he rolled on top of him, momentarily knocking the breath out of him, before grinning down at him in satisfaction.

“Even though I don't know what the fuck you said,” he murmured, “It's still sounded pretty hot.”

“Yeah?”

Mika's voice shook a little, at the new proximity of Billie Joe's face to his own.

“Yep...” Billie Joe nodded, touching their noses together, before Mika arched up to catch his mouth in a slow kiss, feeling Billie Joe exhale, hotly, against his lips. A few rounds of lazy kisses later, Billie Joe wasn't showing any signs of moving, his heavy head resting in the crook of Mika's neck, the breeze from the window making his hair flutter against the singer's chin.

“Where'd you learn?”

“Hmm?”

“To speak French, I mean. How come you can do that?”

Mika slid one hand, languidly, into Billie Joe's mop of dark hair.

“I lived in Paris as a kid. I never lost it... it's good to keep these things up.”

Billie Joe raised his head.

“I thought you were British.”

“I am. I mean... I was born in Beirut. But then we lived in France, then I moved to London when I was nine and that's where I've been ever since. I mean... mostly.”

“Wow... that sure makes my backstory look pedestrian.”

Mika smiled, tracing a finger over the coloured stars that decorated Billie Joe's bicep. His eyes followed inky letters and lines that looked as though they could tell a thousand stories, but he sensed that it wasn't time for any of them just yet.

Then, Billie Joe's hand was tangling back into his hair and they were kissing again, warm and easy. Mika closed his eyes, in contentment, as Billie Joe's kisses migrated from his lips and travelled along his jawline. He found himself wondering, briefly, what the hell any of this meant and how he was ever going to be able to convince himself that none of it mattered, before he pushed such thoughts out of his mind and went back to concentrating on how good it felt.

He let out a peaceful little sigh, as Billie Joe's forehead rested against his own.

“Are you gay?”

Mika's eyes sprung open at the question, before he took in the inquisitive expression in Billie Joe's eyes and began to laugh.

“What?” Billie Joe murmured, lowering his lips back to Mika's neck, “I thought it was a legitimate question...”

Mika paused, then laughed again.

“Your timing is fucking hilarious...” he pointed out, and Billie Joe raised his head to grin at him.

“I'm sorry. I'm just curious... you don't have to even answer if you don't-”

“-It's not that. I just think it's funny you waited until now,” Mika smiled, fingering the hair at the nape of Billie Joe's neck. “And no... I mean I've been with women... and I've been with men. I'm just attracted to people... you know?”

Billie Joe nodded.

“I know exactly.”

Mika smiled at the understanding in his eyes, then pulled him down into another kiss,one that was fiercer and more eager and that quickly deepened into something that made the voices out in the hall fade into insignificance. Mika ran a hand down to the small of Billie Joe's back, pulling him closer and relishing in the feel of the weight of his body and the heat of his bare skin against his own. Billie Joe moaned a little, as Mika's hand moved lower, a sound that quickly turned into a groan of indignation, when Mika's cell phone began ringing somewhere amongst his clothes, which were piled on the floor next to the bed.

“Shit...” Mika frowned, breathlessly, “... I should probably get that. I don't even know what fucking time it is...”

Billie Joe stifled a sigh, rolling off Mika and onto the mattress again, to allow him to lean over the edge of the bed and fumble his ringing phone out of the pocket of his jeans.

“... Hey,” Mika answered, already wincing a little in anticipation, having caught the name on the screen before he pressed the answer button.

“Where the hell are you? I've been worried!”

“Don't worry, Paloma, I'm fine. I'm, uh... heading back in a bit.”

“From where? You came off stage last night and totally, just... disappeared! I thought you must have gone for a few drinks or something but it isn't like you to stay out all night and nobody around here knew where you went and... Mika?”

“I just went out with a... friend. But just chill, we don't need to leave for hours and anyway, you told me you wanted to watch Florence. Go and get a fucking ice cream.”

Billie Joe snorted into his pillow.

“Hmm... who are you with?” Paloma asked, curiously.

“Room service. I'll see you soon!”

Billie Joe laughed up at the ceiling, when Mika's phone landed on the floor again, and he turned to see him groaning into the fingers that were now covering his face.

“Room service?” Billie Joe repeated, with an incredulous grin.

“It was the first thing that came to mind...”

“Hah... right. Best damn room service you ever got...”

Mika smiled, rolling onto his side, one hand in his sleep-tangled curls as he propped his head up on his elbow and settled his eyes on the guitarist's still-grinning face.

“My sister isn't an easy person to fool,” he explained. “I mean, obviously I'll have to tell her something, I'd just rather put it off 'till later, y'know, when I've got my head together and got this fuzz outta my brain...”

Billie Joe nodded, his eyes following the circles his fingertip was now tracing on the bedclothes between them. When he looked up again, the cautious vulnerability in his eyes made Mika's heart give another of those gentle little skips it had been practising all morning.

“What are you gonna tell her?” he asked.

Mika swallowed, looking away.

“I don't know,” he admitted, after a pause. “I suppose... well... I suppose I don't know what there is to tell.”