How We Got Here

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story. I own no songs or song lyrics unless otherwise stated. This never happened. This is fiction. I do not believe Mike and Tre are having an affair. Addie and Billie are not divorced. F-I-C-T-I-O-N.

A/N: The second 'scene' or whatever in this chapter appears to be told in third person. Really, it's still Mike's POV, but it's like he's telling back what Billie told him.

How We Got Here (or Time of Your Life)

Chapter Eight: And I'm Paying You?

Tattoos of memories
And dead skin on trial.

Mike's POV

I said I would watch Jakob and Stella while Billie took Joey to the schoo. They were watching amovie about talking fish when Billie came down the stairs with Joey. "Why do I have to go?" the boy was complaining.

"Your schoo, your desk. Don't you want to say good-bye to your teacher?" He winked at me. Joey had a crush on Ms. Marks, the twenty-something woman with killer legs.

"Fine." Joey said. He stomped out to the car.

"We might go get something afterward." Billie said. "Depending on how bad it is."

"Okay." We kissed and Billie grabbed the car keys and left.

---

Billie walked into the school with Joey tagging behind. "C'mon, punk. You look like you're going to a funeral.

Joey gave his dad a look. "Sor-ry. Jeesh."

Billie knelt. "I know it's hard switching schools, Joey, but this isn't the right place for you. And I know it's hard because of me and Mike, but your new school isn't going to care about that."

Joey nodded and walked into the classroom with his dad. "Hi, Joey." Ms. Marks said, standing up and smiling. "We missed you in class today."

"I'm switching schools." Joey said, grabbing his dad's hand. "On Monday."

Billie squeezed his son's hand. "Why don't you start cleaning out your desk while I talk to Ms. Marks?"

"Okay. Be nice." Joey warned, going to his desk.

Ms. Marks smiled. "Why don't we talk in the hall?" she asked. After she shut the door, she looked at Billie. "I don't blame you for taking him out. At least it never got physical."

"He thinks you can catch homosexuality, like it's a disease. He thinks Mike--that's my husband--and I are going to get AIDS. Billie shook his head. "It's a liberal school." he told her. "Private. I think that should work better."

Ms. Marks nodded. "He's smart. He's quiet. I heard it wasn't like that last year."

"Last year he was acting out because of the divorce. I told him about Mike and me this summer." Billie's arms were crossed and he leaned against the wall.

Joey's teacher nodded again. "Do you mind if I say good-bye to him?"

Billie shook his head. "That's fine."

He was lightly banging his head against the wall, thinking about where he was going to take Joey after he cleaned out his desk. That was when Elle Mick happened to walk by. Her fake smiled made Billie want to hit something.

"You're Joseph Armstrong's father, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She gave another fake smile. "I heard he's leaving."

"Yes."

"So you'll no longer be damaging our school with your perversity?"

"The only perversity here," Billie Joe said, his words sharp and punctuated, "Is all you people teaching your children to hate."

"You're going to hell."

Billie smirked. "That over-used threat might scare me if I believed in your idea of hell."

Joey opened the door, dragging his bagpack. "I'm ready to go, Dady."

Elle gave the young boy a nasty smile. "We're sorry to see you go, Joseph."

The boy looked at her and stuck out his chin, then grabbed his father's hand. "Bite me."

Billie Joe beamed with pride.

---

"I found you a doctor."

Billie looks at me and continues to towel dry his hair. "I don't know if it's going to help."

"It will." I pull him close and kiss him. "I promise."

He leans his head against my shoulder and kisses my skin. "I hope you're right." His lips are warm as they press against my collarbone.

Billie's never had a good sense of foreplay. He drops to his knees immediately and undoes my jeans, pulling them down with my boxers.

I've never known anyone who gives head as well as Billie Joe, even when we were teenagers. His tongue traces invisible patters before he takes my entire cock in his mouth. Billie Joe can deep throat like I've never been able to.

Billie Joe's POV

Mike lives to hear my beg, I swear. I suck him almost to the point of coming before he pushes me away.

"On the bed." He pushes me gently. He's never too fast. It's always slow. Painfully slow.

I think we're both all too aware that I've got nothing on but a towel.

He kisses along my collarbone, running his hands up and down my hest. My hands thread through his hair. I can feel his breath against my skin. "Mike." My voice is a whisper.

"You want something?"

"Fuck."

Mike's POV

He arches his hips against me as if he thinks I'll speed up the process. He's just so fucking hot when he squirms.

"Please." His hands are on my back now, his fingernails digging into my skin. "Mike . . ."

I bit his neck and let my hand trail up his leg. He's squirming, trying to get me to give him a handjob. If he didn't hate the idea, I'd tie him to the bed.

"Please?"

"Please what?"

His head falls back. "Fuck me, Mike."

"All you had to do was ask." He smiles and I smirk. "But you didn't ask."

"I hope you die painfully."

I just laugh and kiss him.

Billie's POV

"Please . . ." He's got two fingers in me, thrusting in and out. "Fuck, Mike."

"Fuck or fuck you?"

"Fuck me!" I know I'm almost screaming (and so thankful this room is virtually soundproof). I'm fucking myself on his fingers and all I want is him inside of me. He's been fucking teasing me for over an hour.

When he finally slides into me, I have to bit my tongue to keep from screaming. It always hurts so much the first minute or so no matter how much I want it. "M-Mike." He waits for me to get my breathing under control before he starts moving inside me. It's slow at first, then faster and faster . . .

I can hear him whispering my name.

Mike's POV

Billie gets off on sound. Like now when he can hear my voice and hear my brathing.

He's head's thrown back and his green eyes keep getting darker and darker. This is why I fuck him on his back. Billie's so fucking gorgeous during sex. It would be wrong to see just the back of his head.

"Harder." He loves it fast. "Harder, Mike."

Billie's POV

He runs his hands through my hair, his lips finding mine. "I love you."

He feels me thighten and I lose it. My eyes close, my head falls to the side. I fell him come inside of me, but it barely registers. An axe murderer could come out of the closet and I wouldn't care. I can barely move after an orgasm like that.

He throws the bott of lube back in the drawer and pulls me into his arms. We lay like that for awhile, not saying anything.

Then we kiss and put on clothes before he unlocks the door, in case one of the kids had a nightmare. He goes into the bathroom for a minute and comes back with a washcloth. He wipes the come of my stomach.

I'm asleep before he gets in bed.

---

Mike's trying to explain to the kids why I'm going to the doctor and why they can't go with. Tre's coming over to watch them.

"Sometimes grown ups have to go to the doctor for grown up things." he said.

"Is Daddy gonna die?" Jakob asks in this quiet voice I can barely hear from the bathroom. Mike's got all three kids piled on our bed.

"Don't be silly." Mike said, pulling Jakob into his lap. "Did you die when we took you to the doctor for your shots?"

"No."

The door downstairs swings open and we all hear a yell.

"Uncle Tre!"

---

"Why don't you tell me why you're here?" The shrink's name is Dr. Long, which made for some stupid jokes on the drive up to calm my nerves. Mike was in the waiting room. I was picking at my jeans.

"I don't know."

"You have an anxiety disorder?"

I nod. "Yeah. I get panic attacks. But it's been so . . . bad lately."

"How's your appetite been?"

I shrug. "Normal, I guess."

"Any major weight change?"

I shake my head.

"Are you married? Divorced? Dating?"

"I divorced my wife last fall. We were married six years. My husband's in the waiting room."

"Children?"

"Addie and I had two boys together. Joey and Jakob. They're six and three. Stella's three. That's my stepdaughter, Mike's daughter."

"Alcohol?"

"What about it?" I had now managed to tear a whole in my jeans. I work my finger through it.

"How often do you drink?"

"Every day."

"How much?"

"I get shit-faced a couple times a week when the kids are in bed or there's a party. Usually it's just a few beers with dinner."

"Smoker?"

"Two packs a day."

"Drugs?"

"Just pot and coffee."

The doctor paused for a second. "How long have you and your husband been together?"

"A bit over a year."

"How did you meet?"

"We've been best friends for nineteen years. We met in the school cafetera." I pick at my jeans some more. I thought I was here for my panic attacks and the shower and shit. Why's he asks all these stupid questions? My last shrink didn't ask these questions.

Of course, he got sued for malpractice.

"How's your sex life?"

"W-What?" Did I hear your right, Mr. Doctor Guy?

"How's your sex life? Is it healthy?" He's give me a calm look like it's perfectly normal to ask complete strangers about their sex life. I'm pay him. He should be telling me about his sex life. Of course, he's eighty or a hundred or something. He probably can't get it up anymore.

Mental note: Shoot self when that happens.

"Yeah. I mean, I guess I have a healthy sex life."

"About how often do you have sex in a week?"

Shit. Uhh . . . I'm trying to figure it out in my head, running out of fingers and toes, while he taps his pen on a notebook. "Maybe thirty times? Give or take."

"A week, Billie, not a month."

I glare at him. "I have sex four or five times a day, Doc. I may not have a diploma, but I think I understand basic multiplication."

The doctor nods. "What was your childhood like?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about your family."

"There were five of us kids. I was the youngest. My mom, my dad. He died when I was ten. My mom got married again when I was twelve."

"Did you like him?"

"Who?"

"Your stepfather."

"No. None of us did. He was a dick. Is a dick. I don't talk to him." I hate him. He hasn't seen my kids since Mike and I got together, except in pictures. Homophobic prick. Or biphobic prick? Is that a word?

"Was there abuse in the home?"

"Nah. He hit me in the head a couple times. he was just a prick."

"How did your father die?"

"Cancer." I'm getting pissed. "Look, what the hell doesn't any of this have to do with my panic attacks?"

"If we discover why they started, then--"

"I know what they started! If you would have fucking asked me . . ." When you're a high school dropout and you're smarter than a Ph. D., you really shouldn't be the one paying that Ph.D.

"Why did they start?"

I don't say anything. I mean, fuck, Mike's the only one who knows. And this guy's so fucking stupid. But Mike was so . . . and I promised. Shit.

"They started when I was fourteen."

"Why?"

It's not fair. I haven't had a bad fourteenth in tree years and now I have to drag the whole thing back up and analyze it. "I got raped by some guy at a party."

"Did you press charges?"

"I don't know who it was. I didn't tell anyone until I was twenty-four. Mike's the only one who knows."

"Mike recommended the therapy, correct?"

"Yeah. He said I was scaring him. Neither one of us knows what's going on. And he doesnt even know most of it."

Mike. I'd do anything for him. I wouldn't even consider seeing a srhink if he didn't get that look in his eyes like when he caught me with the knife.

"What knife?"

I stare at him. Fuck. I didn't know I said that out loud.

"Billie, tell me about the knife."

"It was twelve years ago. It's hardly relevant." I sound like an ass.

"I need to know about the knife."

I hate talking about the knife. Mike and I never talked about it after the emergency room. Fourteen stitches, believe it or not.

"Mike caught me with the knife when I was seventeen. We were living in an apartment. He was working late."

"You cut yourself?"

"My arms. It was the fourteenth of August. Midnight trip to the ER. It was the only time he ever hit me."

***Mike's POV***

We went to the bar after his appointment. He was hammered by the time we left. "I want a different doctor. He's a fucking idiot."

"Billie Joe, you're drunk. We aren't talking about this now."

Yeah, taking him to the shrink was a great idea, Mike. Do most people get drunk after they see a shrink?

He's gone from bitching mode to extremely horny by the time we get home. If he wasn't so drunk that he coudn't undo his own seatbelt, I'm sure he'd have been giving me head on the freeway.

Instead, he's got his hand halfway down my pants.

Billie's definently the woman in the relationship. When I finally mange to get the door open, he's got his legs wrapped around my waist and he's necking the fuck out of me.

"Fifteen minutes." I tell Tre, who's hiding a smirk behind his hand.

"What the--"

I cut Joey off. I really don't want to know what word he was going to us. "Got something on my neck."

Billie giggles.

Horny bastard.

Tre's POV

Fuck.

---

Okay, there's Chapter 8.

Next chapter: The best chapter ever. I'm serious. I absolutely love the next chapter. Tre's in it a bit. Billie's homicidal. Kitchen appliances are murdered and doorknobs are running loose.

Yay!