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Billy is tense the moment Daisy walks into the recording studio that sunny Tuesday morning.
It’s a few weeks into the process of creating the album. They have three solid tracks and one more already well underway and the burgeoning creative partnership between Daisy and Billy is flourishing. A collaboration like theirs is not without its ups and downs but all in all they were producing great music.
Last night in particular had not been their greatest hour and the effects were trickling over into a new day.
After Jonah Berg all too happily told Daisy about her and Billy’s supposed act, she blew off the band’s recording session that evening. She hadn’t known they were supposed to be pretending. It pissed her off and bruised her heart in equal measure so no, she wasn’t going to show. Daisy Jones wasn’t a phony. Instead, she coped as she always did with whatever alcohol was readily available and her pharmacy worthy stash of drugs.
She was pretty messed up by the time Billy arrived at the Chateau Marmont and found her in the pool. Once she’d climbed out oblivious to the party around them she even had the bloody foot to prove it. Daisy can’t remember the details but she knows he’d been the one to patch her up and see her to bed in a heated exchange of words, more upset than she’d heard or seen before.
That fragility mere hours ago and the shame of it all in the morning light had Daisy putting on her pride like a familiar coat to protect herself. If she had enough confidence to put forward she didn’t have to feel uncomfortable in the aftermath. Billy in contrast had evidently been stewing over it since the moment they parted.
Daisy sets him off like no one else. She and Billy both have that effect on each other. The problem is riding through the consequences when their stubbornness gets in the way.
She is fine. If Billy wants an act he’ll get an act, despite the fact that the only other people here currently are Karen, Graham, Warren, and Eddie.
After a round of greetings and small talk, Daisy unflinchingly brushing Billy off as if it’s casual. Nothing about them is casual. Her disregard leaves him furrowing his brows before he speaks.
“I have a new song,” Billy tries get things rolling by pulling out his writing pad.
When the focus is on the music he seems to loosen up and that in turn relaxes Daisy. Music has always been what’s bridged the gap between them. Composing is part of their singular Daisy & Billy language that outsiders have trouble decoding.
She smiles excitedly by new material to cut her teeth on. “Have you been holding out on me?”
“It just came over me last night,” Billy shrugs nonchalant to all the eyes on them. Only the two of them know what must have inspired him to be so driven. “I want you to sing it.”
Daisy, despite her grown teamwork skills, can never let anyone else run the show for her. If she doesn’t get her say, her voice isn’t being heard. She refuses to be a wallflower when she can feel the opportunity to make her mark on music history within reach.
“Let me see,” she holds out an expectant hand.
Billy passes the lyrics to her and his notes to the band. She hears the rustling as the other members of The Six take a look. Warren starts tapping out a beat with his fingers.
Dread fills her the moment she reads over his now familiar handwriting. This fucking song is about her .
She shakes her head in near disbelief, “I’m not singing this shit. It’s worse than all the songs about your wife and the rain.”
Billy’s hands flex open and closed at his sides. His fuse has been lit by the match Daisy strikes with her words. He must have assumed she would come in and give her usual brand of criticism before he’d wind her up to sing it the way he wanted. Well screw that, screw him .
“It’s a good song, Daisy,” Billy insists.
Her eyes graze over the page. Some of it is good—really good if she actually wanted to admit it. The sharp imagery fits with the harsh subject matter of loving the idea of someone but struggling with the reality of them.
It could be a bigger hit than anything by the Beatles and it wouldn’t change the fact that it’s an incredibly douchey song to write when you’ve already been with the girl that’s more fun to miss.
She’s about to voice that issue to the whole room, repercussions be damned, when he instead snaps at her, gawking at her open mouth.
“Are you chewing gum in here?”
Billy holds onto control so intensely she knew it was only a matter of time before someone faced the consequences.
Daisy thought she was doing everyone a favor. After a mostly finished breakfast plate from room service featuring her signature combination of coffee and champagne, along with a few familiar pills (all absolutely necessary for function), popping in a stick of spearmint Bubble Yum was downright courteous.
One of the rules each band member knew was gum wasn’t allowed in the booth. Flagrant disregard for rules always tended to bolster Daisy’s confidence. She’d made, in her personal opinion, an excellent choice before entering the studio.
She very purposefully picks that time to press her lips together and blow a bubble until it pops to her satisfaction.
Then, Daisy answers in a singsong, “Freshens the breath.”
Billy’s eyes seem to flash with disappointment and then disapproval, which Daisy can’t make sense of.
“Get rid of it.” He runs a hand through his hair holding on for a bit longer. “This is a studio, not a playground.”
Daisy’s temper is the one to boil over at his comment. He makes her seem like a child, an unwelcome tag-along to the adults in the room. No one makes Daisy Jones feel small, no one makes her feel unwanted.
Admittedly her next actions are childish.
She spits her gum out right onto her paper filled with the verses for More Fun to Miss and crumples it. It’s easy to toss the sheet aside where it sits untouched towards the front of the booth.
Billy’s nostrils visibly flare and she knows he’s biting back a comment even he thinks is too inappropriate.
His fuse has shortened significantly.
Graham is gaping at her in disbelief. Karen appears at a loss for words. Warren is biting back a laugh from the ridiculousness of the situation. Eddie seems a little too satisfied with the conflict.
“It’s out,” Daisy says in a drawl as she goes to sit on her stool. “Can we get to work on something else now or is there anything else you want to dictate sir ?”
Trying to divert disaster before it strikes, Karen speaks up, “We should really get to—“
She’s cut off swiftly.
“Pick it up,” Billy points to the discarded paper. The fire inside him is so hot it’s burning cool.
“Excuse me?” Daisy’s brow is cocked. How could he even ask her that?
He levels each word at her unnervingly even, “Pick. It. Up.”
Their bickering is far too intense for nine o’clock in the morning.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Graham urges. He seems deeply uncomfortable with what’s happening in front of him and it almost makes Daisy feel bad.
Warren nods, looking between Billy and Daisy, “Yeah…”
“Good idea,” Karen pats Graham’s shoulder as they turn towards the door.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. He puts his bass in its cradle and heads out with Warren, a blunt already slipping out of the drummer’s vest pocket.
It’s a very good thing Teddy Price isn’t here. Booked up with a meeting with the record label to assure them everything is ready to go, he wouldn’t be arriving until the afternoon. His tongue-lashing and peace-making would have to wait.
It’s a double good thing Jonah Berg wasn’t invited to observe again. As if he needed any more fuel to add to the Molotov cocktail of an article he was working on.
Daisy and Billy still glare at each other, mere feet between them, as the room empties of band members and surrounds them with silence. She will not be the one to break their staredown, the one to fold. Billy is used to getting what he wants and she doesn’t want him to have the satisfaction.
If he doesn’t want her to be spiteful he shouldn’t act like an ass in the first place. And speaking of he did have a nice ass, too nice actually for someone who constantly was pushing her buttons. The joke was on Billy though because she was going to push right back.
“I’m not going to pick it up just because you’re telling me to.”
Daisy crosses her arms under her chest. So what if it pushes her breasts together? So what if her nipples brush against the thin fabric of her cotton tank top? So what if Billy is breaking their stare to glance at them?
It isn’t the first time.
The sick part is, he already knows what’s underneath, after their night at the beach.
Writing in collaboration, and creating music from silence makes people close—even when they shouldn’t be. The intimacy is their secret. She wouldn’t mind adding a few more for keeps.
She’s acutely aware of the fact that they’re alone together with a shitload of hostility rife for exploding. She’s missed him. She’s aching for him. How can she ever say that though when there’s so much rightfully keeping them apart?
If this is all she can get of Billy, Daisy will fight tooth and nail for every second of it.
It seems to be working considering he hasn’t looked away from her for more than a moment since she arrived.
He’s looking at her face again when he says, “You aren’t going to distract me, Daisy.”
Daisy scoffs, turning away from him. Her intention wasn’t to distract him—it was just an opportune bonus she was capitalizing on.
“I hate you.”
She thinks she means it this time.
“ No, you don’t.”
He knows better.
Billy snatches the discarded lyrics off the floor and grabs her hand pulling her out of the booth and towards the couch behind the soundboard.
She follows hastily only a half step behind him. She doesn’t know where the game is leading now. If it leads to his hands on her body again then she wins. While Billy needs things ordered in the way he plans out, Daisy relishes breaking the mold.
They weren’t supposed to be alone right now, she wasn’t supposed to refuse his song, and he absolutely wasn’t supposed to need her the way she needs him.
Billy locks the studio door and pulls the blinds. No one to catch a glance of what’s to come, no one to slip back in before this is finished.
He presses on her shoulders until she’s planted on the couch. Daisy crosses her right knee over her left. Whenever she sits this way she thinks of her mother, who only knew how to criticize, saying ladies cross their ankles, brazen girls cross their knees.
She never did grow out of her brazenness.
Before the voice leaves her head Billy is towering over her standing less than a few inches from her legs. It’s like her body can sense his when they’re this close and her flesh tingles pleasantly.
She’s staring resolutely at her knees when he speaks again, “There are easier ways to get my attention.”
He arranged this on purpose because now she actually has to look up at him. She just knows he’s getting off on it, cock hardening in his Levi’s, and if she only glanced down the proof would be right there.
“I wasn’t trying to get your attention asshole,” Daisy keeps her voice hard. “I wanted new lyrics.”
Her walls are up. He knows too much. He sees her too well. It fucking hurts her because they both know the pain of being brushed off by people that are supposed to care.
Daisy sets her chin defiantly. If he’s going to try to make this into some lesson she isn’t going to take it submissively.
“That means writing not acting like a damn brat,” His hands curl up into fists, “ and spitting on someone else’s hard work. But you don’t know much about work now do you Daisy? Not when everything’s been handed to you.”
She recoils, rightfully offended by his words. “Bullshit you know I worked to get here. You know I have the talent to back it up too!”
She’d worked hard on her music, just like he had. Scrapped by on her tips from a diner to spend her free time writing and writing and strumming chords on her guitar to make melodies people would want to hear over and over.
“I know you’re a good scene stealer.”
She stayed out with The Six for one show, landing them all here with a deal for a record and he was continuing to hold it against her with that self-satisfied look on his face that went along with putting her in her place. The least he could do was hold himself against her while he did it.
Daisy cocks her head letting her ego take over, “Good enough to make you look better for Rolling Stone.”
Even when he’s frustrated with her he isn’t unsympathetic. After brushing off her contributions to Honeycomb he had made an effort not to discredit what she adds to the band.
“You do,” Billy admits. “You make us better.”
His hands unclench having let some of the anger he’s holding onto out.
Billy doesn’t scare Daisy. He’s got a big ego, everyone could attest to that, but he wasn’t violent towards the people, especially those he cared about. Daisy had managed to become one of those people even if their relationship ran far more hot. The fact that he can move her around and use some force was just as appealing as his soft glances and caresses.
This is still mostly about last night. This is about skipping a recording session and in the process risking the reputation of the band. It’s about her getting so numb she couldn’t feel it when she stepped on glass. He wants her to feel something.
“But you don’t slack off in this band,” He continues, “In fact, you’re going to put some work in now.”
Billy opens up the crumpled paper, her chewed-up wad of thick gum sticking to his carefully crafted lyrics. She stares at the smeared ink wondering what the hell he’s talking about when she feels the still tacky gob press right onto her nose.
She’s too shocked by his audacity to say a word.
As a child, she’s seen her fair share of kids with him on their noses after ruler-wielding teachers caught them in class. Daisy never thought she’d be put in her place that way as an adult.
“Read the lyrics,” he holds the sheet in front of her face. “Out loud. Sing them.”
He’s letting go of the tight control he keeps of himself, fully focusing on controlling her instead. These are actions fueled by too raw emotions. It’s the only outlet they can have.
“I’m not-“
He pushes the paper closer to her face.
“Sing ‘em, Daisy.”
She grabs lyrics from him, face going red at what she’s about to do. Her head is more of a mess now than when she walked in as he forces her to lay her emotions at their feet. He’s worse than any drug she’s had. Still, she’s listening now, chastised enough to be tame.
I still need a drink for all the glasses in the sink
From chasin' a shot that rang through hell
For the record, I'm fine with what's left of what's mine
Almost took you by mistake for someone else
Her voice is uncertain. There’s no music to frame where to go, only Billy’s hum that sets the pace.
You're just a wild guess in a see-through dress
I don't wanna hear you squealin' up my drive
It took guts to think that I would buy that wink
But that little thing you do just ain't right
It’s as far as she gets before Billy’s crouched down nudging her knees open for him. It’s all the worse when he’s on her level because she can’t look away. She’s singing about what a mess she is and he’s getting in her shorts.
His hand grazed up her thigh, under the blue denim hem, and right to her center. She couldn’t find any clean underwear in her drawers so she skipped them today. The universe had a funny way of creating coincidences.
The words are quickly forgotten when he doesn’t push her to keep going, the paper disappearing between the modern leather couch and the floor as he swipes one finger up and down the middle of her over and over. A gasp falls from her lips, chin falling to her chest.
“For a girl who’s so proud,” Billy’s velvety voice captures her focus, “you’re pretty wet while being punished. That’s all you need to get going huh?” His fingers crook up making her shiver, “Someone to put you in your place, honey?”
He’s smiling while making a fool of her and she’s letting him because she likes him too much for her own good.
It’s wrong. It’s all morally wrong but this is what she wants. What she likes. To be taught a lesson by a firm hand. To be forced to make up for her behavior. Even if this whole situation is mortifying and embarrassing Billy is right there with her taking it just as seriously.
“Do something about it,” Daisy says, reaching out to grab a hold of his shirt. All she can do is let her hips follow his hand like a puppy dog after its owner.
His idle stroking ceases and she groans at the loss.
“Are you asking?” He asks brow cocked as he looks up at her now.
Daisy shakes her head. Her stomach clenches at the very idea. She’s supposed to be better than this. “No, no Billy, I’m not asking don’t you dare do that.”
“Maybe you learned your lesson then,” Billy shrugs as if it’s that easy to just pull away from her and let it go.
His fingers trail past the mop of hair, smudging her own wetness along the apex of her thighs. He pulls back standing up and his shirt falls through her fingers. He’s brushing her off.
That is even worse than asking.
“Don’t—” she sits up straighter, flustered now. She scowls at him, “get back here.”
He can’t just leave, can’t think she’s as disposable as everyone else has. Despite the song, despite everything standing in their way, there is no possibility he can be that cruel.
Daisy feels the dreaded sting and prickle of tears welling up mixing with the smell of spearmint that lingers on her nose. It’s pathetic, Billy is making her pathetic. She thinks she really might hate him at this moment.
It seems though that the threat of tears makes even Billy Dunne ease up.
“A compromise then?” Billy proposes. “We’re just working this out. I’m not going anywhere.”
He holds her face in his hand, lifting her chin and letting his thumb stroke her cheekbone in an attempt to soothe her. His eyes are kind, a stare that almost brings Daisy back to her days of searching for a place to belong on the Strip. But really this is the first period in her life she’s felt like she’s had more than Simone to belong to.
Billy doesn’t let their shared look stop.
She realizes within their look that while the song suggests it’s better to miss her than to be with her, he’s still right here with her. He could have stormed out to smoke a cigarette earlier. Last night he could have left her alone at the pool with indifferent strangers. He could have settled in at home and gone to sleep instead of staying up to write about her .
They’d talked about deviating from the truth in their music. It was making their stuff better to focus on the what-ifs that happen every day. More Fun to Miss was just another musing of a different path.
“What kind of compromise?” Daisy sighs, she can’t let him think she’s that willing.
They understand each other. Billy nods, “Just say please.”
She blinks back those tease of tears refocusing herself. She can do that. It’s not outright begging, it’s not asking, it’s just one word.
“Please, Billy,” she says with a squeeze of her hand on his shoulder.
“Alright, Daisy,” he agrees. “We got a lot further to go.”
He pulls her into a kiss. It’s not soft, not really and she is more than okay with that. A scrape of her painted red nails down his muscled back, the bite of his teeth on her lips and tongue. She tries to bite back because fair is fair after all but he’s good at thwarting her.
She manages to surprise him though when a palm grazes over his side and his stomach, moves right down to rub his cock over his jeans. It’s hard, just like she knew it would be. She works him further with the pressure of her and the tease of a wayward finger.
He urges her back onto the couch, settling himself on top of her. His mouth scrapes against her jaw, leaving tiny bites against her neck and down to her shoulder.
It’s so easy for Daisy to push down her tank top to settle around her waist. Laid out like this, skin prickling at the cool fabric, he’s easily able to touch her as he wants. Never too soft, always a hint of nails or teeth in that sweet, sweet in-between that suits them so well.
Billy’s pants fall off somewhere in between her tugging on his hair and him leaving a hickey on her hip. Daisy already knows she’ll be pressing on the spot for days to come to remember today, sending tingles down her spine.
“Would you let me do anything, Daisy?” He asks his face from her own.
It’s a dangerous question, but she already knows the answer. There is nothing she wouldn’t try with him. They are painfully the same, twin flames burning brighter and faster together.
She trails her nose along his cheek feeling the slight prickle of stubble, “Yeah Billy, yeah I would.”
“Never wanted it like this before.” He ruts against her thigh, teasingly achingly close, but not giving it to her. “You make everything different.”
She nods, understanding exactly what he means. If they hadn’t ever met her world would have never fully materialized. Something would have always, always been missing and she would never know who it was.
Daisy needs him, her pussy is dripping for him. She does her best to move things along, cocking her hips to try and take him in but he keeps avoiding her. He’s pushing her to the limits of neediness.
“I have a condom in my bag,” she broaches the topic smoothly.
There are a lot of reasons going bare isn’t a possibility. She’s choosing to focus on the fact that she needs to be ready and able to tour in the coming months.
“Right,” Billy blinks as if he was pushing off reality too. He’d nearly slipped up.
He reaches over for her bag and starts to rifle around it where everything hangs loose inside. He finds her notebook first. Momentarily distracted, he pulls it out putting it next to Daisy.
Her nose wrinkles displeased at him touching it without her giving permission first.
She quickly lets it go when he finds the specially textured Stimula package. He slips it out from the paper casing and rips the plastic with his teeth shoving the wrapper between the folds of the couch.
With the rubber on he finally settles between her thighs. He lines up, head teasing at her waiting entrance. He glances over her face, eager and waiting like the rest of her.
She knows the look on his face as soon as it appears–he has an idea. Brilliant or stupid is yet to be seen.
“You know Daisy, ” Billy draws out the words seemingly relishing in having the upper hand, “you liked that gum so much before…you should keep going.”
He plucks the wad off her nose (nearly forgotten by Daisy in all their activity) and presses it down on her tongue with two flat fingers. He holds her lips open for another moment watching her so closely, eyes glazed over as he spits directly into her mouth.
It’s only then fully pushes inside and starts to fuck her in earnest. It’s a steady, heavy pace that keeps her mind a little cloudy but she can feel every bit of him.
Daisy has never felt so disgusting in her life as his fingers slip away and she starts to chew the now stale gum newly flavored with Billy’s saliva.
Turns out Billy’s pretty disgusting too. He holds tighter to her and quickens his pace all from the image of her taking his degeneracy in stride. Daisy has held steady through it all.
His gamble had paid off for them both.
She can’t resist the opportunity to provoke him after such a reaction. She grins with the gum held between her teeth before asking, “You get off on being such a dirtbag?”
Billy lets his head fall forward so she can only see the way he grits his teeth and his adam’s apple bobs.
Daisy laughs, “You do. Come on, Billy, admit it. Admit how much being a filthy–”
She gasps, cutting off as he pulls out and uses his hands on her hips to turn her over onto her knees and stomach. It’s harder now, deeper inside her to the point she can’t seem to find any words for a moment.
“That’s what I thought,” Billy grunts.
He isn’t easing up and she would hate it if he did. She moves back to meet him increasing their pleasure. Daisy grips the edge of the couch breathing through it.
One second her eyes are closed as his front covers her back and the next they flash open when he’s fisting a hand in her fiery hair. The decorated brown cover of her notebook is in front of her. When the hell had it gotten in front of her?
“Time to get some more practice in, superstar.” Billy goes particularly deep causing Daisy to groan as she’s set off balance nearly slamming her chin on the couch, “One hit song lasts fifteen minutes, a hit album lasts forever.”
She tries to turn back to face him but his grip in her hair keeps her facing forward and held down. It’s a wonder she hasn’t lost the gum with all the noise she’s making and the effort she’s exerting.
“Are you shitting me?”
He slows down to a teasing pace untwisting his hand from her hair.
“No, I’m trying to fuck you while you multitask. I know that’s a big ask for a spoiled brat.”
Daisy slams her palm down on the fabric with a thwack, “Oh, fuck you .”
He kisses a trail over the freckles on her shoulders as her back arches and she moves for more of him. It’s become too leisurely for her today. Getting this far worked up only for release to be pushed further away doesn’t suit her. She needs it to come barrelling down in an overwhelming rush.
“You’re certainly trying to,” Billy’s amusement carries through in his voice. Daisy wishes she could see that smile.
“Goddamn it!” She curses as she pushes her hips back faster now.
“We were working on The River last,” Billy’s palm comes down on her backside urging her on, “get to it.”
She keeps her left hand supporting her and uses her right to flip the cover of the folio where scattered lyrics lie inside. It’s a struggle to pay attention to any of the words on the page it takes her far longer than it should to realize she’s not even looking at The River. It’s fragments of what became Let Me Down Easy.
Billy’s hand moves up the curve of her spine and back between her legs to start rubbing at her clit. She can’t think of music like this, at least not the kind he wants her to. All she can conjure up are thinly veiled metaphors for brain-melting sex that would probably be better suited for a different album entirely.
“I can’t,” Daisy shakes her head.
Everything is Billy in that moment. Though she can’t see him, in her mind’s eye she imagines that fair skin and dark hair as she hears the sounds she wrings out of him. The taste on her tongue is the same as his, the scent of his salty sweat fills her nose, and all she can feel is his body around her and inside her, every thought in her head has to do with him, him, him .
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” his voice is tight and high in his chest. He’s breaking apart just as she is.
He’s holding her close, as they race down to a furious finish.
Daisy falls over the edge first as the pleasure ripples down her body. All the way through Billy’s still moving, leaving her slack-jawed as she lets him know exactly how good it feels. He follows only moments later folded over and pressed flush against her. The weight of him is a comfort Daisy had never expected to be so comforting.
It’s only when she opens her cobalt eyes again does she realize that stale gum had fallen out right onto her notebook.
“You–”
She can feel Billy peer over her shoulder to see what’s caught her attention.
“Guess you know how it feels now, Daisy.”
Shitty. It feels shitty to see words and ideas that mean a lot potentially ruined by carelessness. He could have just said that, but in truth, she wouldn’t have listened. When it comes to understanding other people, actions hold more candor.
Daisy pinches the clump of gum off the page and sticks it under the top of the nearby coffee table. She squirms underneath Billy until she’s able to face him again.
She props herself up on an elbow, “I think you made your point clear.”
He’s reprimanded her twice over this morning, first with the song and then with things she hadn’t even known would turn her on. The point though was that the band and the music had to come first. This album was the precipice of huge success or ultimate failure. Neither of them was getting away from the other no matter how much they each pushed.
Maybe they had harmed and helped each other in equal measure over the course of their partnership but it was balance fucked up as it might be.
“What was my point?” Billy asks, hand resting on her side.
Daisy grins, nose crinkling, “Don’t be a dick and you won’t be an even bigger one in return.”
Billy laughs and Daisy does too. If he were anyone else she would be making her excuses to slip away or turn over and fall asleep. Instead, she’s content to stay there for a while wishing the time they had together could last.
Nothing is promised, but just once Daisy lets herself believe there’s hope.
If this is all an act, Jonah Berg can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.