Chapter Text
It was another of those late nights. Billie, left in the studio, empty of inspiration. The room was silent, save for the mindless strumming she did on the guitar and the faint track demo playing on the studio speakers. She was halfway deep into one of those 'is-sleep-really-worth-it' spirals when a soft knock on the door snapped her back to reality.
"Yeah?" Billie called out, turning more towards the door.
"Can I come in?" You asked, voice quiet, as if you were trying to avoid killing the singer's motivation—which she didn't even have right now.
"Go ahead."
You slid inside, clicking the door shut with your elbow. In one hand, you held a plate of homemade pita pockets—free of gluten and animal products for Billie. "brought you dinner so you don't starve yourself."
"Damn. Okay, chef," she grinned and took the plate, setting the guitar down on the nest of pillows and blankets she had built on the floor.
"Are you hibernating, or what?" You teased, plopping down on the couch.
Billie rolled her eyes while munching on the pita, but her eyes were too lit-up to actually feign annoyance. The dinner was good. Really good.
"These taste so good," she mumbled between bites.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm." she hummed, dragging out the noise and earning a wider grin from you.
"Sooo," you started, "progress?"
"I've got an instrumental down... mostly. And now there's no more dopamine to motivate my body."
"Seems like it," you muttered quietly, just to tease.
"Now what does that mean?"
You, in response, only gave her a slow smirk.
"What does that mean?"
She giggled and shrugged.
"You're so annoying," Billie whined, finishing up her meal. Meanwhile, the drumset in the corner caught your eye, and you slowly stood up from the couch. You took a seat at the set, lifting the sticks rested across the hi-tom. Mindlessly, you gently stomped the bass pedal with a rythym, following it with snares and some beats to the floor tom.
Billie looked up and admired you—brows furrowed in focus, hands using the sticks to form a solid beat, adding in crashes occasionally. You finished it off with a build-up and a final crash, quiet as the cymbal rang out.
"You're good at that," she praised quietly after a few seconds of silence.
"It's literally my job," you deadpanned and gestured like it was obvious—which it was.
"Okay, fair. Doesn't mean I can't compliment you." she huffed and crossed the room, stopping beside you on the stool. "teach me to play like that."
"Only if you teach me to play guitar," you flashed her a grin, leaning back on your hands, which curled into the edge of the stool.
"That's so much harder though," she whined, her bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.
"Better get on that, then," you hummed. Billie let out a long groan and dragged you back to the makeshift pillow nest.
sitting down and lifting the instrument, she patted the spot between her legs. You took a seat, back pressed against the singer's chest. She positioned the guitar in your grasp, guiding your fingers over the frets and teaching you some basic chords and patterns.
"Okay... now put your index on the first fret, 3rd string. And then middle and ring on the 2nd fret, 2nd and 3rd string... now strum."
she steadied your fingers on the strings while you used the guitar pick to do as Billie instructed.
"And that's an E."
"I don't know how you do this," you muttered, letting Billie guide your fingers towards an F.
"Like you're not a professional drummer," she scoffed playfully.
"I can play bass too."
"Proving my point."
and so you both sat there together, immersing yourselves in finger blisters and Billie's soothing, low voice as she went over chords and the first few songs she learned. But you weren't just learning guitar—you were learning about Billie. And... maybe also about yourself, too.
-
"This is so boring," you whined playfully while Billie taught you a simple guitar riff.
"Oh, quit complaining. I'm teaching you a valuable life lesson here." Billie rolled her eyes, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her breath ghosted over your neck, causing you to nearly shiver at the feeling. "Plus, you were the one who was begging for me to teach you."
"I was not begging."
"Maybe you weren't, but you would've if I asked you too," Billie grinned as she spoke, knowing she wasn't wrong.
"I don't beg," you muttered, fingers still practicing the riff.
"You do for me."
"Since when?" You quipped, looking over your shoulder at Billie—who's eyebrows were raised and lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"What?"
"You say that like last night you weren't-" Billie was cut off by you shoving her back with your elbow.
"Ow!" She hissed, but couldn't stop a little giggle from escaping her lips as she held a hand over her abdomen, where she was nudged violently. She tried to glare at you, but failed miserably. She couldn't ever be mad at you; couldn't even fake it.
"That was homophobic," Billie grumbled and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind as you set the guitar down.
"I'm literally gay."
"I've met at least 3 homophobic gays. You never know." Billie shrugged, resting her chin on your shoulder.
"...am I two of them? 'Cause it feels like that's what you're implying here."
"Maybe," Billie hummed, dragging out the vowels.
"I hate you," you huffed.
"You love me soooo much," Billie teased. You were about to turn around and shove her again, when you felt Billie's lips trailing down the nape of your neck.
"Bil..." you protested weakly, but the words came out strained.
"I'm not doing anything," Billie murmured, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses along the supple skin. She left them starting behind your ear and made her way down to the point where your neck meets the shoulder.
"C'mon, pretty..." Billie purred, kissing along the points of your jawline that she could reach from her current angle. Between the soft kisses, she'd gently suck faint marks of pink. The faded hickeys left were more tender than possessive, as if Billie made them to wordlessly say 'I'm yours'. To show that she was there. To prove it to herself rather than the world.
You sighed, though it sounded more like a shaky breath being released, and allowed yourself to melt into Billie's little worshipping in a way that felt natural. Instinctive.
"There it is."