(no subject)
Title: Sunday Morning Call.
Author: Razzle
Pairing: Bill/Tom
Rating: G
Summary: Tom has something to say.
AN: Light crack. It wasn’t supposed to be crack. It just came out that way. Unbetad.
Written for moblo413 and beren_writes, as an antidote to surprise sadness. :)
It was no good, he was going to have to give in and wake up to his brother’s incessant poking.
Tom’s attempt at interference had started with gentle tickling across his shoulder; brief touches that barely even permeated the shallows of Bill’s dreams. In his dreams he was onstage with Nena. It was his own little Mary-Sue and he had been entertaining it for years. It wasn’t easy to penetrate.
After a few minutes, Tom had lost his patience and the tickles had become much firmer strokes. In his dreams, Bill decided the straps on his outfit were too tight and he wrestled with his halter neck, trying to loosen it up a little. It seemed to work and he went back to shadowing his idol for all of a minute before a sharp object, presumably lobbed by a member of the crowd, jabbed him in the ear.
“Fucking fuck, Tom,” Bill groused, flailing at his brother sleepily, unable to comprehend why Tom had decided to start pissing him off, ruining a perfectly good dream and a perfectly good 5 hour lie-in. It was only ten a.m. and, really, what human was awake by then?
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Tom said brightly.
Bill rolled to the side and glared at him with narrowed eyes that carried the fury of a thousand Divas.
“You just stuck your fucking finger in my fucking ear, you cock,” he practically hissed. “Of course I’m a-fucking-wake.”
Tom grinned lovingly and tilted his head toward his brother.
“You’re so cute in the morning,” he observed.
“I hate mornings,” Bill whined. He reached for the duvet, pulling it up over his head. “Did you want something, or should I just punch you now?”
Tom wrapped his fingers delicately around a fold of duvet a few inches from the edge and pulled it in the opposite direction, dragging it back down to reveal Bill’s unimpressed face.
“I needed to tell you something,” Tom said seriously. “It’s important.”
Bill blinked slowly, and his whole body seemed to sag as he conceded to the reality that was five minutes listening to Tom for the potential reward of him then letting Bill go back to sleep. If he was lucky, Tom would stay with him and then he’d sleep better. If he was really lucky, Tom would snuggle close enough that Bill could use him as a mic stand and dream he had been upgraded from stage decoration to backing singer.
“Okay,” he said, labouredly. “What is it?”
“Okay, well, mostly, yeah, it’s… I love you,” Tom said, a little smile twitching the corner of his mouth. Bill watched him expectably.
“Tell me that’s not it,” Bill said after a few moments of silence. “Because I will hurt you.”
“That’s not all of it!” Tom said quickly. “I was awake this morning and, yeah, I know, shocking, it was about 8 a.m. and I just couldn’t sleep, right, so I’m thinking about songs and baselines and you, obviously, and I was chugging coke, right? Bill?”
Tom reached out and poked Bill in the face.
“Floating in the summer sky!” Bill sputtered as he woke. He shook his head rapidly. “I was awake!” he protested. Tom was pouting at him and he suddenly felt bad. Tom was obviously in touch with his feelings today and that was a rare thing. The least he could do was try and stay awake. “Sorry. I’m listening.”
“Okay, so I’m chugging coke and thinking about that stupid rumour about you being dead, right?” Tom went on.
“Why?” Bill interrupted.
“Why what?”
“Why the hell were you thinking of that stupid rumour?” Bill asked petulantly. “Why that one? I hate that rumour.”
“Well… yeah, anyway,” Tom said, obviously unable to think of a decent reply to someone who had just protested what wasn’t really an irrational dislike. “So, I’m thinking about this thing, right, and how I said it was weird and, I dunno, I just got this sort of flutter in my chest. Not the nice kind. Not the sex kind, just… a weird twitch, inside.”
Bill was awake now. Bill was concerned.
“I thought it was the coke,” Tom went on. “Cos it was fizzy and really kinda too cold. But it kept happening, every time I thought about you… not being around anymore.”
“You should go see Dr Weiss,” Bill interjected. “Cos if you’ve got a heart murmur you shouldn’t be near amps. Or David Jost.”
“No, I don’t think… Jost?” Tom wondered aloud.
“He’s magnetic,” Bill explained. “I think.”
“Um,” Tom went on. “Well, I tried to think about how I’d feel if you really, you know, died and I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I really did. I thought I was going to die.”
We’re you afraid for the band?” Bill asked. Tom looked at him sideways. “Because, it’s not like you could replace me,” he pondered. “I’m not Paul McCartney.”
“No, you little morsel of monkey madness,” Tom said fondly, stroking whatever parts of Bill he could reach. “I was worried about how I’d go on without you and then I realised, I wouldn’t! I nearly had a heart attack just thinking about being without you. If I actually lost you, my heart would just give out!”
“You’re surprisingly upbeat about it,” Bill suggested.
“I know!” Tom agreed. “But, don’t you see? I never have to worry about losing you! Not ever!”
“You’re a freak!” Bill exclaimed. He softened. “That is pretty sweet, though,” he conceded. “I bet it’s true the other way, too. I bet I couldn’t live without you, either.”
“Probably not,” Tom agreed. “I mean, what with your inability to walk in a straight line, my inability to hold a full conversation without mentioning Lord Grand Tomi Von Pantstadt,” he said proudly, happy to have an excuse to use his Penis’s full name. “Between us, we only make one fully-functioning human being. It’s like Siamese twins. Death would come swiftly to the one left behind.”
“Oh, Tomi,” Bill said, his eyes soft and filling with love. “That’s almost poetic.”
Tom grinned widely.
“I just wanted you to know that,” he said shyly. “I’m not afraid anymore. Because, you know… you’ll never go where I can’t follow,” he concluded, shamelessly ripping off that guy who made the King Kong movie.
And with that, Bill was hooked. All dreams of Nena forgotten, he flipped his brother onto his back, and with a warcry that sounded distressingly like something out of Xena, warrior princess (a show he was far too young to know), he bowed in intimate service of the Little Lord.
T’End.
Author: Razzle
Pairing: Bill/Tom
Rating: G
Summary: Tom has something to say.
AN: Light crack. It wasn’t supposed to be crack. It just came out that way. Unbetad.
Written for moblo413 and beren_writes, as an antidote to surprise sadness. :)
It was no good, he was going to have to give in and wake up to his brother’s incessant poking.
Tom’s attempt at interference had started with gentle tickling across his shoulder; brief touches that barely even permeated the shallows of Bill’s dreams. In his dreams he was onstage with Nena. It was his own little Mary-Sue and he had been entertaining it for years. It wasn’t easy to penetrate.
After a few minutes, Tom had lost his patience and the tickles had become much firmer strokes. In his dreams, Bill decided the straps on his outfit were too tight and he wrestled with his halter neck, trying to loosen it up a little. It seemed to work and he went back to shadowing his idol for all of a minute before a sharp object, presumably lobbed by a member of the crowd, jabbed him in the ear.
“Fucking fuck, Tom,” Bill groused, flailing at his brother sleepily, unable to comprehend why Tom had decided to start pissing him off, ruining a perfectly good dream and a perfectly good 5 hour lie-in. It was only ten a.m. and, really, what human was awake by then?
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Tom said brightly.
Bill rolled to the side and glared at him with narrowed eyes that carried the fury of a thousand Divas.
“You just stuck your fucking finger in my fucking ear, you cock,” he practically hissed. “Of course I’m a-fucking-wake.”
Tom grinned lovingly and tilted his head toward his brother.
“You’re so cute in the morning,” he observed.
“I hate mornings,” Bill whined. He reached for the duvet, pulling it up over his head. “Did you want something, or should I just punch you now?”
Tom wrapped his fingers delicately around a fold of duvet a few inches from the edge and pulled it in the opposite direction, dragging it back down to reveal Bill’s unimpressed face.
“I needed to tell you something,” Tom said seriously. “It’s important.”
Bill blinked slowly, and his whole body seemed to sag as he conceded to the reality that was five minutes listening to Tom for the potential reward of him then letting Bill go back to sleep. If he was lucky, Tom would stay with him and then he’d sleep better. If he was really lucky, Tom would snuggle close enough that Bill could use him as a mic stand and dream he had been upgraded from stage decoration to backing singer.
“Okay,” he said, labouredly. “What is it?”
“Okay, well, mostly, yeah, it’s… I love you,” Tom said, a little smile twitching the corner of his mouth. Bill watched him expectably.
“Tell me that’s not it,” Bill said after a few moments of silence. “Because I will hurt you.”
“That’s not all of it!” Tom said quickly. “I was awake this morning and, yeah, I know, shocking, it was about 8 a.m. and I just couldn’t sleep, right, so I’m thinking about songs and baselines and you, obviously, and I was chugging coke, right? Bill?”
Tom reached out and poked Bill in the face.
“Floating in the summer sky!” Bill sputtered as he woke. He shook his head rapidly. “I was awake!” he protested. Tom was pouting at him and he suddenly felt bad. Tom was obviously in touch with his feelings today and that was a rare thing. The least he could do was try and stay awake. “Sorry. I’m listening.”
“Okay, so I’m chugging coke and thinking about that stupid rumour about you being dead, right?” Tom went on.
“Why?” Bill interrupted.
“Why what?”
“Why the hell were you thinking of that stupid rumour?” Bill asked petulantly. “Why that one? I hate that rumour.”
“Well… yeah, anyway,” Tom said, obviously unable to think of a decent reply to someone who had just protested what wasn’t really an irrational dislike. “So, I’m thinking about this thing, right, and how I said it was weird and, I dunno, I just got this sort of flutter in my chest. Not the nice kind. Not the sex kind, just… a weird twitch, inside.”
Bill was awake now. Bill was concerned.
“I thought it was the coke,” Tom went on. “Cos it was fizzy and really kinda too cold. But it kept happening, every time I thought about you… not being around anymore.”
“You should go see Dr Weiss,” Bill interjected. “Cos if you’ve got a heart murmur you shouldn’t be near amps. Or David Jost.”
“No, I don’t think… Jost?” Tom wondered aloud.
“He’s magnetic,” Bill explained. “I think.”
“Um,” Tom went on. “Well, I tried to think about how I’d feel if you really, you know, died and I swear, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I really did. I thought I was going to die.”
We’re you afraid for the band?” Bill asked. Tom looked at him sideways. “Because, it’s not like you could replace me,” he pondered. “I’m not Paul McCartney.”
“No, you little morsel of monkey madness,” Tom said fondly, stroking whatever parts of Bill he could reach. “I was worried about how I’d go on without you and then I realised, I wouldn’t! I nearly had a heart attack just thinking about being without you. If I actually lost you, my heart would just give out!”
“You’re surprisingly upbeat about it,” Bill suggested.
“I know!” Tom agreed. “But, don’t you see? I never have to worry about losing you! Not ever!”
“You’re a freak!” Bill exclaimed. He softened. “That is pretty sweet, though,” he conceded. “I bet it’s true the other way, too. I bet I couldn’t live without you, either.”
“Probably not,” Tom agreed. “I mean, what with your inability to walk in a straight line, my inability to hold a full conversation without mentioning Lord Grand Tomi Von Pantstadt,” he said proudly, happy to have an excuse to use his Penis’s full name. “Between us, we only make one fully-functioning human being. It’s like Siamese twins. Death would come swiftly to the one left behind.”
“Oh, Tomi,” Bill said, his eyes soft and filling with love. “That’s almost poetic.”
Tom grinned widely.
“I just wanted you to know that,” he said shyly. “I’m not afraid anymore. Because, you know… you’ll never go where I can’t follow,” he concluded, shamelessly ripping off that guy who made the King Kong movie.
And with that, Bill was hooked. All dreams of Nena forgotten, he flipped his brother onto his back, and with a warcry that sounded distressingly like something out of Xena, warrior princess (a show he was far too young to know), he bowed in intimate service of the Little Lord.
T’End.