Send all comments, questions, complaints, non-sequiturs etc. to
jb7811@bellsouth.net

Disclaimers:  Anyone you recognize from the movie belongs to Michael Turner and
various production companies.  Bobby and Dominic belong to Chris Haddock and
various production companies.  Any real people mentioned in here belong to
themselves, and all the rest I just made up.  And they're all used without
permission.

Notes:  Thanks to Shug and Nicole for early confidence boosting and to Lori J
and Barb G. for being wonderful betas, even when they made completely
contradictory comments.  I hope I found some happy medium.  Well, not too
'happy' since this is kind of a... Mopey!Billy. ;-)
 

Summary(because I've been forgetting to do them): Billy broods and gives an
interview, doesn't drink but does have sex, and wakes up Bobby in the middle of
the night.

****

*I wish we could stay right here in this bed and never have to leave...*

Taylor's parting words kept drifting through Billy's mind as he went to his room
to shower and dress.  In the cab ride to Greenwich Village, he told himself the
kid had been more asleep than awake when he spoke.  He couldn't have meant it
like it sounded...could he?  He had to have understood when Billy told him
nothing would come of this little fling.  Billy had tried to make it as clear as
possible that when the plane took off for LA, they went back to being nothing
but bandmates.

Bandmates.  That's all they could ever be.  Billy had been certain of that from
the very beginning, and he probably shouldn't have allowed the line to become so
blurry over the last couple of days.  He was well aware how easy it was to fuck,
be fucked, and go on about your business.  No harm, no foul, just a little fun.
But he'd seen Taylor go through a couple of bad breakups and knew the kid had a
tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve and then get it ripped off.  Billy knew
all that but was playing with him anyway, and he knew he ought to be ashamed of
that.  Maybe he was, a little.

Arriving at the restaurant a few minutes early, Billy was escorted to a table
where a guy with longish hair and glasses waited with a notebook and small tape
recorder.  The writers from Guitar World and similar magazines were usually
musicians themselves, so maybe this one wouldn't be too interested in the more
tabloidal aspects of Billy's life and career.  He'd done little bits for
features in the magazine, but never a full-size possible-cover-story interview
before.  So he was hoping he didn't fuck it up as the man stood so they could
shake hands and do the meet and greet.  Hi, how ya doin', call me Jim, call me
Billy, thank you for coming, yadda yadda.

As they eased into the interview by talking about the current album and the
upcoming video, Billy let his mind wander a bit because he had this down pat.
He knew the questions and the answers because they'd all been asked and given
before.  The notion that the album was widely considered to be Grammy material
brought a smile and a comment tinged with carefully honed humility.   But
inside...he knew he deserved it.  He was way overdue. He'd wanted this kind of
recognition so badly, and he'd have been happy to have it with Joe and the boys.
But that wasn't in the cards, so Billy played the hand he was dealt--the Jenifur
hand.  He played it well and had fun doing it, and that would have pissed Joe
off to no end.  If he were still around to see it, that is.

*Too fuckin' bad, Joe.  You could've been here.  You chose not to be.*

Jim brought Billy's attention away from that dangerous ground he'd been heading
for with a question about technique.  Billy took out a cigarette and his
lighter.  "Mind if I smoke?"  Jim shook his head, so Billy lit up and blew out a
thin stream of smoke while he considered the question.  "Rules are made to be
broken, even in music.  Maybe especially there."

"True, and have you applied that philosophy to your life outside of music?"

Billy stared him straight in the eye and said, "When necessary, but that's not a
very interesting topic of conversation."

"Oh, I think it would be fascinating to talk about how you got started in the
business in the do-it-yourself punk scene back in--"

"You know, Jim, contrary to popular belief, I'm not entirely self taught.  I did
take a few lessons here and there, and I had some very good teachers."  He named
a couple since he was ostensibly talking about playing guitar, but that barely
scratched the surface.  Jim and a million readers didn't need to know about any
of the other stuff he'd been taught.

Billy glanced at his watch and noticed that over half an hour had passed since
the interview had started.  And on the one hand--the fatalistic hand-- he was
surprised it had taken that long for the old days to come up.  All his hopes to
the contrary aside, it had been an inevitable turn for the conversation to take.
Now he just had to decide what truth and what lies to tell, and what to avoid
all together.

Maybe it was fitting that he'd been thinking about Joe so much lately, and now
he had to talk about him.  But when last night and this morning's activities
with Taylor were added to the mix, the whole thing became very shaky.  Ever
since Edmonton, Billy had tried to keep his private life as far away from the
spotlight as he could and he was determined to keep it that way.  Most of the
time, it was not all that difficult to do, but when he'd just crawled out of bed
it was hard not to think about Taylor.  Certain memories of Joe were bound to
follow--for the contrast, if nothing else.

Much as he'd loved Joe, Billy had never been able to give up everything that Joe
demanded of him.  They'd had a brotherly bond that nothing had ever broken--not
even death--but with it came some kind of carte blanche idea that Joe knew what
Billy wanted and would give it to him, no matter what Billy *said* he wanted.
It was frustrating and confusing and irritating, and Billy had finally balked at
the possessiveness and the restriction of being locked into orbit around Joe.

Even though they had only slept together one night--and this morning, he
reminded himself with a little smile that made Jim look at him funny--Billy
could already tell that Taylor was Joe's opposite in many ways.  He didn't seem
to think that showing tenderness made him less of a man or that sex was an
endurance sport to be won by the last man standing, no matter how battered and
exhausted.  And he wasn't fascinated by Billy's tendency to bruise easily, which
was a relief since Billy'd be having pictures taken tomorrow for this article.

Maybe most different of all--Taylor was eager to please, eager to do anything
Billy wanted.  No matter how many times he told himself it was a mistake, Billy
knew he'd give him another go--or six-- before they went back to LA in a few
days.  Then it would be business as usual...unless the kid got clingy or
something, and Billy thought he was probably too smart for that.

When Jim stopped talking and looked at him expectantly, Billy realized he hadn't
been paying attention as well as he had been earlier and had lost the thread.
They'd been talking about the old days...Hard Core Logo...the West Coast punk
scene...  Nope, he had no idea what the current question was, so he lit a fresh
cigarette and asked him to repeat it.

"I was curious about the differences between being in a punk band and being in
an alternative band like Jenifur that's practically mainstream in comparison."

"We get our songs played on the radio without edits.  We get our songs played on
the radio, period."  Billy switched his cigarette to his left hand and took a
sip of his coffee.  "Everything's different.  We're on MTV, VH1, and Much Music,
and you sure as hell wouldn't have been talking to me ten years ago, would you?
There's the difference."

Glancing at his watch, Billy said, "Time's almost up.  You got anything else you
wanna know?"

"How has your approach to music changed since Joe Dick committed suicide?"  Jim
stared at him expectantly as he dropped his real bomb, his pen at the ready to
write down every nuance of expression that the tape recorder would miss.
"Witnesses say it was his last fight with you --most likely about you leaving
Hard Core Logo to join Jenifur-- that pushed him over the edge.  Do you feel any
guilt about that?"

"Saved the best for last, did ya?  Well, my answer to all of it is 'no comment'.
You'd have to ask Joe about what pushed him over the edge.  He's the only one
who'll ever know.  This interview's over.  See you tomorrow at the photo shoot."
With that, Billy pushed back his chair and stood up, hoping like hell that Jim
couldn't see how his hands shook.  It took all of whatever acting skills he
possessed to pretend nonchalance as he walked out of the restaurant and flagged
a cab.

When he got inside, he gave the cabbie the name of his hotel, then sat back in
his seat, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard.  His stomach was twisting and
turning so much it was a good thing he hadn't eaten or he'd be puking his guts
up.  What kinda question was that?  Did he feel guilty?  Nearly every fucking
day of his life, and whether he felt he deserved it or not, he hated every
minute of it.  He needed a drink....no, not that.  Reaching into his pocket, he
pulled out the small AA book he'd picked up his first day in the city, found a
noon meeting and gave the driver the address.

***
 

"And then I went with Gary to get some new strings for his bass, and you won't
believe who was in the shop-- Jason Newsted.  Can you fucking believe it?"

"No, I can't fucking believe it."  Billy replied in an obviously bored monotone.
His mockery was lost on the younger man who threw himself down on the bed,
kicked off his shoes, and kept talking.

"He was real cool, too.  I figured he'd be all stuck up, and you know, all 'I'm
with Metallica', but he wasn't.  He was there looking at equipment just like
Gary and me."  He scooted over so that he was right up against Billy's side and
craned his head so that he could see the pages of Billy's book.  "How's the
book?  Ginsberg, huh?  Looks interesting.  Hey, how did your interview go?"

Giving up on trying to read, Billy marked his place and laid the book aside. "It
was okay.  What are you on anyway?"

Taylor jerked back and said, "Nothing," with innocence that he could turn on and
off in a blink.

Billy looked into his eyes for a long moment, finally deciding he was telling
the truth.  Maybe this abundance of energy was just natural enthusiasm instead
of drugs, but it was starting to irritate him.

"I might've had too much sugar and caffeine.  On the way back to the hotel we
stopped at this coffee shop that had these really good chocolate chunk brownies.
I should have brought you some.  Sorry I didn't think of it."  Taylor drummed
his hands on his stomach and then reached over and smacked Billy's as if hitting
a cymbal.  He laughed when Billy grabbed his hands and rolled over on top of
him.

Holding both of Taylor's hands over his head, Billy kissed him hard just to shut
him up.  He drew back and looked down into coffee brown eyes that looked older
than they should and said, "You talk too much."   Dipping his head, he kissed
Taylor again, gently this time, teasing his lips open with his tongue.  He took
his time, slowly building arousal that went humming through his bloodstream.

Turning his hands in Billy's grip, Taylor wound his fingers through Billy's and
returned the kisses, not pushing for a faster pace, even though his body started
to twitch and shift under Billy's weight.  Billy could feel Taylor's cock
growing and hardening, so he rubbed his hip against it, which not coincidentally
ground his cock into Taylor's hip.  Billy had to grin at the little sound that
escaped between their mouths, because he wasn't sure who made it.  He thought it
was Taylor, but it could have been him.

Billy finally stopped thinking and just sank down onto Taylor's body, in a full
length, fully clothed embrace as they continued to kiss--lightly, deeply,
chastely, lustfully, each learning what the other liked best.   And there was
another difference between Taylor and Joe.  Joe had always acted like it was
queer to want to kiss very much, but Taylor didn't seem to care.  This would be
the hardest part to give up.

Taylor twisted out of Billy's grip and wrapped his hands around Billy's head,
weaving his fingers through the short hair at his nape.  The restless movements
sent a little shudder down Billy's spine, and he propped himself up on one elbow
so he could work a hand in between their bodies.  He shoved Taylor's shirt up,
rubbing slow circles on his stomach before going to work on his jeans.  Billy
had barely gotten the zipper down when Taylor flipped him over, reversing their
positions.

Billy grinned and arched into the hand that went straight to his fly, nearly
tearing the buttons free from the holes.  After that, nothing went slow anymore
as they scrambled out of their clothes while still touching and kissing each
other.  With one hand, Billy blindly searched through the accumulated detritus
on the nightstand for condoms, while he wrapped the other around Taylor's hard
cock, stroking from base to tip and back again.

When he finally found one, Billy pulled his mouth free from Taylor's and ripped
the package open with his teeth.  He got distracted for a moment by the
enchanting feel of Taylor's hands moving all over his body, pinching his
nipples, stroking his stomach, and playing with his cock and balls as if they
were a brand new toy to be examined.  Taylor's mouth moving across his chest
brought a low groan from Billy, who suddenly remembered what he was supposed to
do with the bit of latex clutched in his hand.

As he rolled it gingerly onto Taylor's cock, Taylor looked at him with wide eyes
and asked, "You sure, Billy?"

Billy looked him in the eyes and nodded, grabbing the bottle of lubricant off
the nightstand and pressing it into Taylor's hand.  Just this once, he thought
as he spread his legs wide so Taylor could prepare him carefully but quickly.
The slick fingers working their way inside him sent little bolts of pleasure
through his cock and he wondered how long he'd last.  He took a deep breath and
grappled with his control as the fingers were replaced with the head of Taylor's
cock.  It suddenly felt much too big to fit, and Billy experienced a few seconds
of panic as the stretching became a burn and then...Taylor was in and the slight
pain faded.  A smooth thrust across Billy's prostate brought a tingling burst of
sensation that erased the earlier discomfort and he tilted his hips to take more
as he wrapped his arms around Taylor's back.

It had been a long time since Billy had been fucked like this and he desperately
avoided making any comparisons of then and now.  He'd forgotten how good it
could be...the friction building heat inside him, Taylor's sweat mixing with
his, his cock leaking against his belly until he brought a hand around to take
care of it.  He started to stroke his cock in a quick jerky rhythm and that
seemed to spur Taylor to go faster until he was pounding into Billy and they
were both gasping for breath.

Billy shuddered and came in splash against Taylor's belly, and just a moment
later Taylor tensed and groaned something that sounded like Billy's name.
Feeling his own afterglow, Billy watched the younger man come with an odd
detachment.  He looked like he was in pain until he opened his eyes and grinned
before withdrawing gently and collapsing onto the bed beside Billy.  He flopped
one hand out and clumsily patted Billy's midsection, grunting incoherently.

Billy closed his eyes and wondered why that felt like approval.  And wondered
why he cared.  The kid could probably get off by rubbing against a doorframe, so
it's not like Billy did anything special.  He sighed then.  *It *was* special
and you hate that, don't you, Billy?  How dare anyone be good to you?  Not like
you deserve it or anything.*

His subconscious sounded suspiciously like Joe, so he spoke to it accordingly,
*Shut the fuck up.*

Billy opened his eyes as he felt the bed move.  Taylor got up, went into the
bathroom, and came back a moment later with a damp washcloth.  He cleaned them
both with a matter-of-factness that made Billy feel grateful all of a sudden,
but he couldn't bring himself to comment.  Taylor didn't seem to expect him to
say anything because he dropped the washcloth on the floor and lay down beside
Billy, then started talking again as if nothing had happened and they weren't
lying on top of the bed naked in the middle of the afternoon.

"Remember what I said--I don't know, a few days ago-- about it's not too late to
do something new?  I think I'm going to take some guitar lessons when I get back
to LA.  Think I could learn to play guitar?"

Billy picked up one of Taylor's hands and stretched their fingers out together.
Taylor's were not longer than Billy's, but the blue-black paint on his short
nails gave the illusion of extra length.  The pattern of calluses was different,
but otherwise their hands were remarkably similar.  A good drummer might be a
good guitarist or might not.  There was no way of knowing until he tried it.  "I
don't know.  Probably."  Billy laid Taylor's hand down on his own chest.  "Do
you know any chords?"

"A couple."  Taylor rubbed his fingertips over Billy's skin and smirked.  "Think
I'll be as good as you someday?"

"No.  Don't set yourself up for disappointment, kid."  Billy raised himself up
on one elbow so he could reach his cigarettes and lighter.  As soon as he lit
one, Taylor took it out of his mouth and put it in his own.  Billy lit another
and settled back down on the pillow.

"Billy..." Taylor shook his head and took a long drag on his cigarette.

When he didn't say anything, Billy nudged him with his elbow.  "What?"

"I just wondered why you keep calling me 'kid' even though you know I don't like
it, and I've proven--over and over-- that I'm not one."

"You are to me."  Billy blinked through the smoke and thought about getting up
and putting his clothes on, but lassitude kept him on the bed.  "Fifteen years
is a big difference."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."  Taylor sat up and leaned across Billy to put his
cigarette out in the ashtray.   Hovering over Billy, he looked down and said,
"I'm so fucking sorry that when you were discovering punk rebellion, I was
discovering the joys of wearing Superman Underoos instead of diapers.  But
there's nothing I can *do* about it."

Well, I guess he told me, Billy thought with amused satisfaction.  This puppy's
got some teeth.  "If it bothers you that much...I'll try to stop."

Taylor continued to look at him thoughtfully for a moment.  He lowered his head
for a quick kiss, and then climbed off the bed.  Seeming unconcerned that he was
completely naked, he stretched his arms over his head and arched his back.  "I'm
going to use your shower so I don't have to change clothes before we go to that
interview."

Billy nodded and watched him disappear into the bathroom, relieved that the k--
Taylor was going to let the age thing go.  There were much bigger problems to
deal with, like whether he'd also let Billy go once they got back to LA.  Billy
wondered why he was worrying about this so much.  From the very first, he'd been
working hard to convince them both this was a casual out-of-town fuck, but then
he kept having these weird thoughts about Joe, comparing him to Taylor.
Comparing the two relationships, as if they had anything at all in common.  They
didn't as far as Billy was concerned.  He wouldn't allow it.

But he was starting to feel like he was losing power here.  Losing ground.
Losing his fucking grip.  He couldn't be thinking like this.  It was time to end
this thing, if he was going to retain any peace of mind at all.

Taylor walked back into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel, and Billy got
up to take his turn in the shower.  Right outside the bathroom door, Taylor
stopped him with a hand on his arm.  "Wanna do something after the interview?"

Now was Billy's chance to cut him off, quickly and cleanly, so he stepped back
and said, "Yeah."  Fuck.  That wasn't what he meant to say at all.  "No, I
can't."

"Why not?  Got something better to do?"

Wide-eyed innocence should not be sexy.  It should look ridiculous on a guy who
clearly is not that innocent after all.  And so it was with crashing defeat
ringing in his ears that Billy sighed and admitted, "No.  I guess...we
could...do something."

Taylor grinned smugly and pulled his pants on.  "See?  Was that so hard?"

Billy rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him
with more force than necessary.  Yes, it was hard.  Taylor would never
understand the scope of just how hard it was for Billy, but Billy still had some
time to let the kid down easily.  Maybe they'd just get tired of each other
soon, and Taylor would realize on his own that things should go back to normal.

Yeah, that was it.  Billy stepped into the shower with a sense of relief.  He
could relax and enjoy the next few days.  Just like the upcoming interview.  He
liked radio interviews because Jenna and Taylor did most of the talking, so he
and Gary could just sit back, drink coffee, and wait for it to be over.

Wait for it to be over.  Yeah, he could do that.
 

****

"You are a fucking bad influence."

"What...?"  Bobby Marlow stared blearily at the phone and wondered what the hell
Billy was talking about.  He was almost certain that was Billy growling in his
ear, but then he was barely awake so he asked, "Billy...is that you?"

"Yeah.  You heard right.  It's all your fucking fault."

Bobby sighed and said, "Let's pretend for a moment that you just woke me out of
a sound sleep at--" He glanced at the clock by his bed.  "--two o'clock in the
morning, and that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You and your boyfriend."

Bobby opened his mouth to protest the choice of terms, but closed it again,
deciding to let Billy just say his piece so that he could go back to sleep.

"I'll bet he's right there in the bed with you, isn't he?  Just cozy as two
fucking bugs in a rug."  Billy sounded almost bitter, but not quite.  There was
something else in his voice that Bobby couldn't figure out.

"What is your problem, Billy?  Are you jealous of...what exactly would you be
jealous of anyway?"

"I'm not jealous.  I don't have to be 'cause I can get fucked anytime I want to
now."

"Uh huh.  Billy...Have you...uh, have you been drinking?"

"No, but I am fucked up."  Billy paused to take a breath and Bobby could hear
the click of his lighter in the background.  "And it's all your fault."

Concern took precedence over blame, so Bobby asked cautiously, "Are you all
right, Billy?  What happened?"

"I kept telling myself it was all bullshit, that it's all more trouble than it's
worth.  Then I had to go home and see you and Dominic acting all happy and in
love..." He put a mocking emphasis on the last two words that Bobby didn't
appreciate, but knowing Billy's track record, he was willing to cut him some
slack.  "And that must have planted the crazy notion in my head that made me
take him up on his offer."

"So let me get this straight."  Bobby rubbed his eyes and tried to sum things up
as concisely as possible.  "You met someone, you're having sex, and this is a
bad thing that you blame me for.  That's what you called in the middle of the
night to tell me?  Are you sure you haven't been drinking?"

"No, I haven't.  Yes, I'm sure."  Billy's sigh drifted down the phone wires, and
his voice was so quiet that Bobby had to strain to hear him.  "I'm too old to
start all over with a kid like him."

"Oh, shit.  How young are we talking?"  Bobby had a horrifying vision of
eighteen year old--or younger-- groupies, but Billy set his mind at ease when he
scoffed,

"Not a *kid* kid.  He just turned twenty-five and has no fucking clue.  It was
supposed to be three or four days, but it's been two weeks, and he's still
here."

"If you don't *want* him, then let him down easy and move on."

"Maybe I should."

But Billy didn't sound very sure to Bobby.  He sounded like that was the last
thing he wanted to do, so Bobby suggested, "If you do want him, you oughta hang
onto him.  Maybe he's a lot smarter than you give him credit for, Billy."

"I doubt it.  He picked me, didn't he?  Can't be too smart."

Bobby snorted and shifted the phone to his other ear.  "That's bullshit and you
know it."

"I don't know anything anymore, Bobby.  That's the point."

"The point of calling me at two in the morning?  How'm I supposed to help?"

"I don't know that either.  Maybe... talking helped."

"Glad I could be of service."

"Yeah.  Go back to sleep.  Say hi to Dominic for me."

Bobby ran his hand over the empty side of the bed and sighed because it would
have to wait until tomorrow.  Dominic wouldn't leave Gabriella alone for the
whole night, and Bobby didn't feel comfortable staying over at their place.
"Yeah, I'll do that.  Let me know how it goes."

"I will.  'night, Bobby."

"Goodnight, Billy.  And remember the phone does work in the daylight hours."
 
 

The End.

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