Billie Joe Armstrong is my step-father... and I hate it [EDITING]

The Time Of Your Life.

A/N: Wow. This... doesn't actually feel the way I expected it to. I guess I feel a bit sad... but not that sad... hmmm...

Well guys, this is it. It's over. There's no more, as far as I can see. I'm considering (and only CONSIDERING) a short spin-off in Billie's POV on how he met Samia and when he first met Grace. But other than that, it's done.

Wow, this is morbid...

Well, enjoy the final chapter. I bet ya'll didn't see this coming ;)

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SIX YEARS LATER

I pulled up outside Billie Joe’s house that Christmas, feeling rather excited at seeing my entire family again. I always did. I moved out four years ago to go to Julliard for dancing, and I was now living in Ireland with my boyfriend-turned-fiance. And I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t Aiden. My fiance went to Julliard with me, as we both got a scholarship.

I took a deep breath and smiled at the sight of the festive lights outside the house. My fiance stopped the car and said, “Back at last, huh?” And now you’re making second assumptions. But no, it wasn’t Joey either. In fact, it was Danny Armour, the very boy I had been taking Irish dancing lessons with since I was ten. We both got a scholarship for dance and went to college there. Me and Aiden split just before I left, because we felt a long distance relationship would not do us any good.

“Back at last,” I sighed, happily. “Have you got the presents?”

“Yep, all in the back,” Danny told me, with a smile, leaning forward to peck my lips. I smiled and kissed him right back. “You’ll bring them in and I’ll get the suitcases, alright?”

“Alright,” I told him. “Be good in here,” I added, with a smirk. “Don’t be going too hard on the drink.”

“Oh hell no, hardcore eggnog drinking is the whole point of Christmas!” Danny teased. I laughed and rolled my eyes, as we both climbed out of the car. Danny grabbed the two huge bags filled with presents and handed them to me. I thanked him and kissed his cheek. It was snowing and the flakes got caught in his mop of messy dark hair. I smiled, brushing them out of his hair tenderly. I never understood my mom’s description of feelings on her wedding day. But now I knew. When me and Danny shared our first kiss in New York, it was actually just an experiment. I remembered it very vividly.

“You know we’ve known each other for a while,” Danny had said to me, nervously. I nodded slowly. “And... well, we’ve gotten very close...”

“Yes?” I had asked him.

“I... I think we should kiss... just to test, you know?” he said, quickly. I was a little surprised.

“Oh!”

“But you don’t have to say yes, you can... you know... you can say no... if you want,” Danny spluttered, rubbing the back of his head anxiously. I raised an eyebrow.

“Sure,” I said, with a shrug. “We’ll kiss.”

“B-but not if you don’t want to!”

“I do.”

And so we kissed, under the stars in Grand Central Park, of all places. Suddenly, emotions came alive. I hadn’t expected them at all, it felt like an electric shock through my bones. It was a kiss I had never felt before. It was love. I knew then, all this time, I had been in love with Danny. And I had never actually noticed. Maybe it was because, back then, I was so focused on either my dad’s death and my hatred of my step-father. But now that both emotions of grief and anger were gone, leaving a raw patch of my soul to be filled with another emotion to replace them. Danny Armour filled those gaps.