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For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

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

For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

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Title: Moments of Clarity: Chapter Four
Author: phelsabot
Pairing: Jason White/Billie Joe
Rating: NC-17 [overall]
Disclaimer: The events herein are entirely fictional.
Author’s Notes: Graceless first kisses AND SEX, so you should definitely read. This chapter’s mainly a flashback. Bit of (lame) humor to lighten things up a bit as well. Feedback is always great, even if it’s just to give me props on all the effort I put into italicizing shit. ;)

Previous Parts

Chapter Four

Billie awoke early the next morning from a dream that jarred him out of deep sleep. His fists were knotted in the bed sheets, eyelids and armpits and every other crevice of his body fear-soaked in sweat. His breathing evened out into the near silence after a moment, as he listened to the vents and how they puffed out luke-warm air in efforts to calm himself. He listened for Mike’s usual ruffle of footsteps for a long time, heard them cross by his bunk and into the kitchen. Billie shifted, stretched his arms up and let his knuckles graze across the underside of the bunk above him, where Tré was (presumably) sleeping.

Lying in this bunk was like lying in a coffin. At least it was warm. Billie kicked off the hot covers and turned on his side, trying to find sleep and knowing that he wouldn’t. There was a great snore from above him, silly in its sheer loudness, and a random thought popped into Billie’s head.

“You and Jason used to be so close.” Tré had once said the Billie. “What happened?”

Things had lost their silliness.



Jason forgot Billie Joe’s name the second after they met.

They’d been introduced through a friend at a house party Jason’s then-girlfriend had hosted. It was a hasty meeting. The type where quick smiles are offered up on distracted faces, because the music’s too loud and the permanent cramp of people all around keeps your mind locked within a blur.

When Jason figured out the Bay area and realized that he had slipped effortlessly from living in his new house to living in his home, he knew that he was going to be okay. And when he met Billie Joe for the second time, it was through Mike Dirnt. “Bill, this is Jason. Just moved here from Arkansas.”

A skinny black-clad kid with a face like a boy turned and looked at him. His first words: “I’ve met you before.”

Jason tipped his head, Mike looked at him, "Oh. You never told me that," and Jason scrambled a bit. “Um,” said he. “Uh. Were you at Heather’s party?” Best bet. The most socially exposed he’d been since moving.

Billie grinned, “Yeah, that was it.” Jason noted his dodgy teeth. He wondered if Billie had been punched in the mouth or something. He would remember that peculiar smile.

They ran into each other a lot. Jason started hanging out with the same people Billie did, which subsequently brought them together.

Perhaps it was how they both felt quietly inept when it came to relationships, or girls in general. Perhaps it was the undeniable, sincere passion for music shared between them. Perhaps it was when Jason told Billie that he was one of the most decent people he had ever met.

Perhaps it was after Billie’s grossly chaotic break-up with Erica, when Billie realized that he wanted to be around Jason one hell of a lot more.

It alarmed him, the starkness of how he felt. They were in Jason’s basement with Batman flickering out into the shady room. Adam West was beating a plastic shark off his leg, the overdone sound effects drowning out the pair’s wild snickering.

Billie was curled in a heaving ball which only took up about 1/3 of the couch, Jason right beside him, leaving nearly half of the sofa unoccupied. Billie was sobbing out his frustration through his laughter, Jason’s hand fixed and warm on his shoulder. The bright images flashed out at them, projected motion onto Billie’s face; made the tears glossed down his cheeks look white and animate. Dreamlike. When the movie ended Jason would boldly rest his head against Billie’s and breathe with him, long and even, into the cushions.

“You don’t have to deal with my shit,” Billie would croak into the fibers of the pillows that soaked up the heat of his breath, Jason’s hesitant arm draped over his back.

“But I’m not dealing with your shit. I’m helping you deal with your shit. That’s what friends are for, right?”

The plush dampness of the fabric brushing over his skin felt uncomfortable, his tightly curled position was catching up with him, and Billie unfolded. “I have a lot of shit though. A lot. I’m full of shit.” (Billie often wondered what his 20-year-old self would have thought if he’d known Jason would still be dealing with his shit over a decade later.)

They glanced at each other, snorted into a bout of giggles as though they were twelve and didn’t care about anything else. The TV screen was black, but the room was only grey. Billie crooked his head back and stared at Jason. His neck was long. Jason had the obscene desire to draw a line with his finger up the center of that white long neck. Billie’s mouth partially open, exhaling, and Jason could see the tips of his wonky teeth. Except they weren’t wonky anymore; they were fantastic. Billie had become, one way or another, fantastic.


This guy knows me, Jason would think whenever he saw Billie. And I know him.

There was something inevitable and frustratingly divine about their relationship. Jason was curious as to how those teeth would feel pressed into his tongue. Billie wanted to learn the angles and refractions of Jason’s body.

They wanted more from each other. Billie wanted to forget himself in Jason. The soft trace of his smile was like a secret being whispered to him in a crowded room. Billie was shaky and excited with it all. He’s looking at me, Billie would find some juvenile portion of his mind sigh in delight whenever he noticed Jason’s eyes sliding up and down his body when no one else was watching. It made his heart slip and then pulse throughout him. It was startling and yet not unwelcome. It was terrifying and new. It was seductive.

The sky was sick and patchy grey above them on some nameless day in early March. Brown puddles splattered a mess all over the sidewalks. The houses lined down the street looked similar. From the murky water’s reflection they looked exactly the same. Everything was ugly.

Billie wanted Jason to shove his tongue down his throat. Here, outside of a stale looking house with road kill about 10 feet away from them. He reached out, put his hand on Jason’s chest and- oh fuck- Jason was looking at him like he was fucking moron. “What are you doing?”


Billie moved to withdraw, but Jason’s fingers shot up and roughly held his wrist in place. Billie looked, shocked somehow, at the death grip pinning him there. He didn’t know what to do, so he stepped forward, shoes raking over the wet pavement with a rasping sound that echoed. Jason stretched his chin forward, tentatively, to kiss Billie, who couldn’t feel his hand anymore. A branch cracked from nearby, a leaf skittered, everything was still and normal. Then Jason drew back so sharply that Billie choked on a faltering gulp of air, “Jesus Christ.” He launched himself into Jason, catching his lips off guard and gluing them to his own. At least it wasn’t horribly awkward.

Jason let go of Billie’s wrist, repositioning a lighter grip on the other’s ass. His hair was chilly underneath Billie’s fingers as blood throbbed back into his hand. His skin felt like skin when Billie held his cheek.

His mouth felt like his mouth, and something close to what Billie had anticipated.


“I spy, with my little eye...” Billie passed the joint back to Jason. They were sitting on discolored-carpeted floor. “Something that is hot.”

Jason laughed in his way, meeting the lazy yet assuredly devious look in Billie’s rounded cat eyes. “It has to be a colour, Bill.”

“It does? You’re lying.” Billie’s face was shrouded thick with something indistinguishable. He watched the slow suction of Jason’s lips, the soft furrow of his brow as he inhaled and loved the slacked fuzziness of it all. As an afterthought: “We should have sex.”

Jason gazed at him, body snuggled back into the corner as Billie sat cross-legged in front of him. He opened his mouth and watched Billie through the gentle inflation of smoke. “Come sit in my lap then.”

It was bizarre. Instead of breasts Billie had a flat, thin chest that pressed against him at the invitation. For some reason Jason hadn’t quite grasped the fact that it would feel differently until that moment, and it came as a bit of a shock. Jason hammered the joint out, wrapped his arms tight around Billie’s middle as the lithe little person mashed his mouth down onto his own.

They were in the older house where Billie, his band, and a number of other musicians lived as something of a family. There was no lock on the door of Billie’s small bedroom, and Jason was well-aware of the fact that they were not alone in the residence. He felt horribly out of his element, and couldn’t help but open his eyes and glance over Billie’s shoulder toward the closed- the unlocked- beige/white/yellow-ish door as they made out.

He tied his fingers in Billie’s hair, hoisted him closer so that his legs were bestride Jason’s hips, and reveled in the slick gasps falling quiet and muffled from the singer. Small hands pushed down Jason’s chest, over his stomach and beneath the fabric of his pants. Billie’s eyes were a feverish green as his cupped Jason’s growing stiffness with both hands.

Ohgod- have- ah. Have you done this sort of thing before?” Jason wheezed out as Billie’s fingers locked tightly around him, working slowly back and forth. Slow, back and forth.

Billie smirked, heat-flushed skin made him look like he was blushing, and nodded. “Once before, I was kinda drunk, and this- oh (Jason’s nails sliding up his back, his sides)- there was this dude from like, fucking Bakersfield or something...” He let the sentence drag into a kiss with his lips against Jason’s jaw. Billie started to jerk him off with one hand, letting the other wind around the back of his neck and pull him into another searing, sloppy kiss.

“Bill- Billie,” Jason choked over himself as the smaller man’s teeth clicked on a sensitive patch of skin high on his neck.

Billie’s hand stilled abruptly, he turned his face up and looked into Jason’s eyes. “Too fast? I’m going too fast aren’t I?”

Jason felt the tug of his gasps fog over his teeth, the inside of his lips, and then out into open air. The thought of that door inching open made something dark prickle up his spine. Billie didn’t seem to be too concerned.

“Well, we’re not exactly in most private of places...” Jason hinted at uncertainly, voice fat with arousal.

“What? Oh. Oh, um, no one’s going to come in.” Billie smirked. “Even if they did they wouldn’t give a shit.” He slipped his hands back into Jason’s pants when no other protests came, adoring the way those eyes looked at him, made him feel wanted, and had Jason at his quivering climax within minutes.

Everything was skittish. Billie’s keen erection pressed into his stomach was electrifying. Jason hauled him to his feet, worries thrown out the window as his mind cemented onto Billie. Only.

“Lie back, I want to take off your clothes myself. If that’s alright.”

Billie moaned, let Jason steer him to the bed and onto his back, stretched and yielding. “Do what you want,” Billie murmured in a dreamy voice. “Do anything you want...”

Jason eyed Billie’s strangely elegant neck and gave in completely, dipping his head down and licking a dry line with the tip of his tongue up the middle of that stunning throat, nipping at his chin when he reached it. Billie’s moan spluttered into a laugh. Jason eased Billie out of his clothes and- good god, he has a PENIS- a tiny little voice barked in realization at the back of Jason’s head, as if he were expecting something else. He kissed a blemish of a birthmark low on Billie’s belly, the insides of his thighs, wherein the reaction was a helpless cross between moan and giggle. “I’m fucking ticklish,” had been Billie’s delighted reply, drawn out into a groan as Jason nestled beside him, wrapping his fingers around him and thoroughly enjoying the slow arch of his back, the wetness of his mouth as Jason whispered obscene things against them...

“You’re a filthy fucker,” Billie had whispered to him in utter contentment afterward. “Dirty, sleazy...”

In mock-horror Jason had responded, “Me? Sleazy? I’m the fucking nicest guy in the world, you even said it yourself...”

They murmured laughter into the other’s dampness.

Things had been so achingly silly.

  • (Anonymous)
    Ooooh. I love this. The accuracy of your details is incredible and makes this fic even better!

    Your writing style paints an extremely visual picture in my mind which is just <3

    And I adore the reference to Billie's crooked teeth. You have to love them. lol.

    Wicked fic dude!

    Lauren <3
    • Haah, I'm glad the little details are contributing something to the fic. XD

      Thanks a lot!
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