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For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

Title: Moments of Clarity: Chapter Two Author: phelsabot Pairing:…

For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

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Title: Moments of Clarity: Chapter Two
Author: phelsabot
Pairing: Jason White/Billie Joe
Rating: NC-17 [overall]
Disclaimer: The events herein are entirely fictional.
Author’s Notes: Perhaps I should have clarified that the entirety of this story takes place during the AI tour. Yes? Yes. Enjoy the fluff and schmoop while it still exists because, unfortunately, the downhill slide is fast approaching. I also haven’t a clue as to what Jason’s wife’s name is. For this story it shall be Kelly.

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

recurring dreams

Billie was wiping off crusty eyeliner from the night prior when Jason came to apologize once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied in a weary, low tone.

Jason leaned against the narrow doorframe and watched Billie smear shaving cream over the lower half of his face. His actions were drawn out and tired. “Besides, it’s good that you left when you did- Tré and Mike ambushed me during the night. They were drunk. Very drunk.” He looked blankly at himself in the small mirror, razor poised. “Things could have gotten weird.”

Jason didn’t like the pasty quality Billie’s skin had taken on overnight. He looked ill. “Are you alri- ”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Billie traced half the arc of his chin with the blade, wet it, then continued on. Their eyes met in the mirror briefly, and Billie faltered in the face of Jason’s wide open, worried expression, missing a beat and wincing sharply as he nicked himself.

Before he could move again though, Jason had leaned a step into him, snatched a tissue from the countertop and was dabbing the swelling bead of blood on Billie’s face. A murmur, simple, “What’s wrong, Bill?”

Jason was beginning to sound and act like Adie- all seamless actions with exactly the right words incorporated. It bothered Billie, who hadn’t realized Jason took the razor out of his hand until he felt the gentle press of it on his cheek.

“Please don’t,” Billie said in a scratched tone, trying to turn away from the tender act. “Don’t...”

“I want to though. I want to help you, and you’re not letting me. Typical male,” Jason tsked.

Billie smiled sadly. You are not going to win, dear. He let his hands fall dead beside him, and let himself feel incompetent and small. “Don’t you have someone else to groom? You’re making me feel like a total nimrod here.”

Jason chuckled low in his throat, grazed the razor down Billie’s cheekbone, then kissed the smooth, uncovered path of skin. “Yes, actually. In a few minutes I’m off to go pluck Tré’s eyebrows and assist Mike in exfoliating.”

That earned a snort. Good, Jason thought. He loved it when Billie laughed; it kept a little part of him completely at ease.

The birds were shrill outside. Billie moved his face in synch with the turn of Jason’s wrist. “I’m going away with Kelly when we break. A week and a half.”


He launched into further detail and Billie made a conscious decision to not tell Jason that he was having trouble sleeping. Nightmares aren‘t real, and so it just all seemed so pointless.



Denver, November 12th, 2004.

In some remote, nameless part of Denver there was a place called Bob’s Bowl, attached to a moldy gas station. It had almost been wholly forgotten by the world, sitting resolute amidst dry fields of nothing.

Six unlikely people stood outside of this dingy establishment, buzzed and sniggering as though they were years younger as they filed inside beneath an ailing electric yellow sign. There was barely anything in the darkening stretches of land surrounding them. Buildings on the horizon; shadows in the lengthening strands of light.

“Birthday boy gets to pick his team first,” Mike said, slurring only a little bit, as they moved into the near-abandoned bowling alley, save for one surprised employee shifting up to the counter. The place had faded wooden floors that cracked beneath their feet, the air smelled of old things and grime. Everything appeared washed-out.

Jason mock-pondered for a few seconds, then pointed sternly at Tré. “You.” He turned to Billie, “And you. How do you feel about being on my team?”

Alcohol sat on Billie’s intelligent thought. He grinned stupidly.

“Billie sucks, man. He has no hand-eye coordination,” Tré was looking at the short front man with a crooked, not-quite-sober smile on his face. He winked.

That night was a thick haze. It was unbelievable how competitive a drunken group of diverse musicians became with one another, especially when it came down to the most brainless of activities.

And Jason looked so stunningly happy with his small, absolutely simple celebration. It made Billie dizzy just watching him. He was probably watching him too much, but whenever he wasn’t consuming every aspect of Jason, Billie began to think through his stupor of lack of sleep and too much beer. The nightmares he’d been having lately carried with him throughout his entire day. Fleetingly, they were the first things he thought of when he woke up, and agonizingly, the last things he dwelled on before falling asleep. Billie wished he didn’t have to sleep alone so often, and yet he wouldn’t ever, ever ask Jason, despite the fact that he often wanted the guitarist’s body wrapped around his before he drifted off. Someone to hold him, to take care of him if only temporarily.

Billie snapped the thought away. They were dreams caused by anxiety, and better the dreams than panic attacks. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him, because he was his own, mature individual. His own man who know himself and how to deal. That was that.

Someone came up behind Billie and playfully draped their arms across his shoulders. He stifled the aroused murmur that rose in this throat when he felt Jason’s growing hardness against his spine.

“While watching you bowl. Who would’ve thunk it?” Jason said hotly into Billie’s ear.

Billie bit his lip. The heat and energy of Jason was doing things to him. Maybe it was the beer that made him feel so spontaneous. Maybe the altitude. Jason unhooked his arms from around Billie.

“I know it’s not the most glamorous of places,” Billie said out of the corner of his mouth as Jason came to stand beside him, “but I was hoping that I could give you your birthday kiss in the bathroom.” What are you talking about? Fool.

Jason laughed aloud at that, the rest of the band too wrapped up in whatever the hell they were raucously clamoring about to even notice. Billie could have probably given him his kiss right then and there and it wouldn’t have been questioned.

“My ‘birthday kiss‘?”

“If you don’t want it -”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

They went outside for a smoke or more than that. Billie was hopeful- Jason and he hadn’t made any sort of intimate contact for weeks now, and Billie was itching to sink into the other’s warm, welcome body and forget.

Billie took a long pull from his cigarette, turned and fell compliant as Jason steered him back up against the side of the lone building. Instead of lavishing Billie with his usual exponential, fervently-paced kisses, Jason began light and bare, increasing with a steady patience. Billie burned against him after a while, moaning in time with Jason’s tongue pushing into his mouth. In the back of his head, Not the best place to be doing this, buddy...

Fuck off. We’ll deal with it if someone comes out.

“Mmm, that feels good Jase...” Billie whispered breathlessly as Jason’s body sunk tightly against his own, slow moving, teeth that nicked delicately at his lips.

“Tonight, no interruptions, I’m...”

He held Jason to him, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder. “Going to fuck me raw?,” Billie supplied.

Raw? I don’t know about that. Sounds kind of morbid, doesn’t it?”

They’d called two cabs and returned back to civilization when the rest of the band decided it was time to leave. After they’d refused Mike’s offer to ‘party until 7 AM’ and pointed out the fact that they had an early flight the next morning. After they’d waited in the quiet near-blackness for awhile, undressing each other in the dark, fighting off sudden self-conscious waves, bouts of guilt. They stripped away the physical layers and left all else intact. They did what they had been doing for some time now, and hated how it had changed so severely.


His father was a black contour shriveled into himself on the bed.


The light from the hallway was too crisp for his eyes, and he shuddered away.

“Billie, close the door.” His mother’s voice as whisper-thin and quiet as her figure folded up in the armchair near the bed. “Please, your father’s trying to sleep. Close the door.”

His parents had never looked so small. Billie went back to his room and sobbed into his fists over emotions too complex for his young mind to comprehend. He needed to stop though, stop before he drown within himself. Before that bodiless fear caught up with him.


The bed was foreign.

Billie’s eyes opened in swift despair, heart flickering in his throat. There was a hole of a void set within him that he hadn’t felt for so long.

The room was horribly dark, he couldn’t see in front of him. Someone lay curled beside him.

Billie choked on a yelp, spine snapping into a strict line, body lurching back against the headboard with a hollow thud, a dry horror. There was a grunt, Jason’s arm flicked out for the bedside lamp in a matter of seconds, turned it on. Light burst. He rolled back over and stared at Billie hard, face somewhat contorted. Billie was too disoriented to figure out with what emotion. Surprise?

“The fuck, Billie?”

Is it night? Party at a bowling...a bowling thing. Night, last night. Night=dark. It is dark now. People and noise, and beer. Jason. Sex.

Billie gathered himself in less then an instant, looked at Jason, dazed. “Where are we again?”

Jason’s forehead creased with concern and confusion, “The hotel, Bill. My room.” He smoothed a gentle palm down the side of Billie’s thigh. Hushed, “Snap out of it, man. You’re alright, everything’s fine. Did you have a bad dream or something?”

A nightmare. A fucking horrible nightmare.

“I dreamt a memory. A really fucking bad one. Isn’t that bizarre?”

Jason sagged into his original position and tugged Billie back into him. “What did you dream?,” he murmured, not bothering with the lamp, fatigue lacing his words. “Did you dream about being mugged?”

Billie savoured the feeling of Jason’s soft warmth pressed into his back, breath balmy and gusting on his neck, one arm thrown gently over his waist. The pose wasn’t necessarily uncommon, but when they slept together the proximity usually wasn’t this close. Clutched together they often tended to get uncomfortably hot during the night, and Jason was a belly sleeper, liking to stretch out length-wise, Billie curled beside him, perhaps tucking his head against Jason’s arm.

“No, it was about my father. He-” Billie stumbled over his words. He what? He was dying? “Um, it was one of the last times I saw him. It really affected me. One of those memories that just haunts you, y‘know?”

Jason made a hoarse noise of understanding, flattening slow circles over Billie’s abdomen with his fingertips. Fuck, Billie thought. He was so perfectly comfortable like this, felt so at ease with moments that washed over him like this. His eyelids kept falling, chin kept nodding. “I’m exhausted. I’m sorry I freaked you out. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

The last thing Billie heard was Jason’s kind murmur, felt the dampness of his kiss behind his ear.


Moonlight draped veils of translucent blue over Billie’s naked side, as if to cover him since the bed sheets had been kicked down toward the end of the bed. Jason was awake. Not wide awake, though he reasoned that he would soon probably be. The sleepy haze drenching his mind was lifting rapidly, telling his body that it wouldn’t rest again for a long while.

He yawned. The orange glow of the lamp still active made Billie look warmer, fuller. The curtains hadn’t been closed, and Jason was surprised when he spotted white rivulet stars immersed within a sky closer resembling a still, black sea. The moon looked damp and shivering. The light it gave off looked damp as well.

Jason thought it looked ready to melt into a silver puddle. Fragile and glistening.

Fragile and glistening. It reminded him of other things.

(The period of time between updates may become a tad lengthier. I don’t want my stuff clogging up space on this page. It looks cheesy. :X)

  • Ah yes, I'm definitely going to enjoy following this story.

    There are lines here that are simple but really powerful.

    This: And Jason looked so stunningly happy with his small, absolutely simple celebration. It made Billie dizzy just watching him.

    And this: Billie wished he didn’t have to sleep alone so often, and yet he wouldn’t ever, ever ask Jason, despite the fact that he often wanted the guitarist’s body wrapped around his before he drifted off. Someone to hold him, to take care of him if only temporarily.

    And, oh my God, this: They did what they had been doing for some time now, and hated how it had changed so severely.

    There's a gentleness, a fragility to the whole thing that just sucks me in. It's really quite beautiful.
  • I've been following this story, I just forgot to comment on it :( Sorry! I love the atmosphere you've got going here - I get the feeling they really love each other. Great stuff, dear! xD
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