TH fic "Shimmy Shimmy" (Tom/Bill)

[paceus]

A twincest-y fic written for the toho_kinkmeme prompt "Bill bellydancing for Tom."

Thanks to steinsgrrl for the wonderful beta! ♥

Shimmy Shimmy

The door to the exercise room was ajar, and Tom heard a quiet jingling sound from inside the room. He peeked in without a second thought.

He hadn't expected to see something that would make him stop and stare.

Bill was standing in front of the mirror, moving his hips that were covered with a coin belt and not much else. He wore shimmery, almost translucent pants that showed his navel and a strip of skin below it, and an actual women's sleeveless top that left his midriff bare. Tom could tell he had tucked, but then, that seemed wise considering what Bill was wearing. Bill's hands were swaying softly in front of him and his hips were undulating in a way that made Tom scowl. He'd never seen Bill look this feminine and it bothered him.

As if all that hadn't been enough, Bill looked slowly up as Tom was watching, his heavy black lashes lifting while his head was demurely ducked, chin down, and then Bill served Tom the most unbelievable seductive, burning look. Where the hell had he learned that?

"Tom!"

The jingling stopped as Bill froze. His face turned into a mask of horror, and not even fake lashes or artificially red lips helped when the corners of his lips turned down like that.

"Oh, I," Bill said. He put his arm across his stomach like it would hide the clothes. "I didn't know you were up yet," he said.

Tom weighed his options. He felt weird. The clothes, the look - he couldn't decide if it was laughable or wrong... disgusting. He pushed his feelings aside for a moment.

"I just got up," Tom said.

He looked pointedly at Bill's clothes again. He'd known Bill had learned how to bellydance during the past few months, taking private lessons intermittently, but Bill had never talked about it and never shown Tom.

Tom had thought it was better he didn't know, really. Bill bellydancing didn't sound like something he needed to know much about - and what he'd seen only confirmed his suspicion. But he couldn't just let it pass by now that Bill was wearing clothes like that.

"So," Tom said, at the same time as Bill mumbled, "Um." Bill looked abashed, and suddenly Tom decided to go for amusement on this one. He grinned.

"Come on," Tom said. "Mr. dancer. Show me some moves."

"I'm not sure," Bill started, but Tom ignored him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"I'm curious," he said. It seemed funnier by the minute. Bill looked like Tom had caught him red-handed, which he sort of had. And Bill's embarrassment entertained him.

"I've never really shown anyone," Bill said.

"What?" Tom could tell that Bill didn't feel comfortable with him watching. Bill was practically squirming. But his excuses should have been better than that. "Don't you show your dance instructor all the time? And I'm your twin. You mean, you can't show it to me?"

Tom frowned like he was hurt. Bill bit his lip, his defences crumbling.

"Well, fine, I guess," he said.

"All right," Tom said and rubbed his hands together. "Now what've you got?"

"Er, well," Bill said, and this time Tom had to laugh out loud.

"I've never seen you so tongue-tied, I don't think," he said. "Over a little dancing. Come on! Can you do the hip thingie Shakira does?"

"Shut up," Bill said.

"Whenever..." Tom sang, imitating Shakira's song. Poorly. Bill rolled his eyes.

"Before I'm going to show you anything you've gotta understand some things about my dancing," Bill said. He put his hands on his hips and Tom tried not to smirk. Bill was in his element; he sounded pretentious already, and he'd forgotten his self consciousness about his outfit.

"My dance instructor, whose name is Ruwa by the way, is Syrian, so her dancing is really different from how Shakira dances. It's not going to look the same. So don't say I do it wrong or anything because it's just different."

"Sure, okay," Tom agreed.

"The movements are much wider. Like this."

Finally Bill did show him something. Bill stood up straighter, lifted his chin and put his hands over his chest. Then he cocked his hip to the left. Then to the right. He could move his hips sideways surprisingly far.

"See? Much wider," Bill said. His face was painfully earnest when he looked at Tom, and all the while his hips moved slowly from side to side.

Tom burst out laughing.

"What!" Bill stopped at once and put his hands down. "It's a perfectly good dance move. It's the first one I learned! What are you laughing about?"

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know where you got this idea in the first place," he said. "When the rest of us watched Britney's Slave 4 U we didn't think like, ooh, I want to do that!"

He laughed some more because he'd always found his own jokes funny. Bill didn't seem to. He looked like he'd smack Tom soon, an indignant line on his forehead.

"Look, it's like sports; it's a legitimate form of training, all right?" Bill said. Tom tried to look serious but he was probably grinning too widely. "It makes me a better performer, helps me get better muscle control, lots of things," Bill ranted. "See!"

He turned around, his coin belt jingling. "See?" he said and craned his neck to look at Tom.

"What am I watching?" Tom asked. He thought it might be wise not to make any remarks on Bill's bare back... or the women's top.

"My back, here, look! My spine used to be all knobbly but now it's... see?"

Bill twisted his arm and put his fingers on his back, poking at his spine. And Tom could see, now. There were muscles in Bill's back, barely noticeable, but there, evident in the dip of his spine where it had been clearly visible before.

"Yeah, okay, it looks like it's legit," Tom said.

"Touch it," Bill urged. He poked himself a few more times to make his point until he took his hand away and just craned to see what Tom was doing.

Tom didn't think to question what Bill wanted him to do until he was already almost touching Bill's back. Suddenly it didn't feel like something he wanted to do - Bill's lack of clothing made him think vaguely about strippers, and it was weird that it was Bill. But it was too late to back down. Tom put his fingers on Bill's skin to be done with it.

The pads of his fingers touched the dip in Bill's back. The skin was warm and supple, like he'd have expected. Tom's fingers slipped slightly and he could feel that Bill was soft like silk. His body went hot and cold at once and he snatched his hand back.

"It's real impressive," he said and cleared his throat, ploughing ahead to make it less awkward. "You must have practiced like hell."

"I have!" Bill twirled around, coins jingling, and beamed. "I've tried to do something every day, even a little."

"That's persistent," Tom said. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Well, you wouldn't think I did," Bill said, smug now that Tom had already been proven wrong. "I can show you the Shakira move if you want?"

Tom shrugged. "Sure."

Again, Bill straightened first, put his other hand up almost on the nape of his neck and assumed an expression that Tom guessed was part of dancing. Bill took it very seriously, apparently. But then it didn't come as a surprise for Tom that Bill knew what he was doing when he performed.

Then Bill did a few quick, twitching movements with his left hip, rotating it in a way that looked almost unnatural. Tom whistled, despite himself.

"Shakira enough for you?" Bill said and laughed.

"Not exactly like Shakira but kinda cool," Tom said.

"I've got another one that she does," Bill said.

He lifted both of his hands above his head, crossing the wrists, and then he did the shimmy with his hips. The coins jingled like mad and his hips trembled. Tom stared, all amusement forgotten. His mouth felt dry.

Bill broke into a grin, obviously seeing that Tom was impressed, and then stopped, raising his arms and saying "Ta-da!" in a way that didn't fit his clothes and his dancing at all.

"That your best trick?" Tom asked, trying to sound ironic.

"Absolutely," Bill said. He was still grinning.

"A few more years of practice and you might be decent," Tom said.

But Bill wasn't fooled, just said "Thanks!" He looked smug and self-assured and Tom felt like he shouldn't have watched the shimmy. He frowned. Bill hummed to himself and preened in front of the mirror, brushing his hair back.

Tom remembered how he'd looked in and seen Bill in the first place, and how flustered Bill had been. "So," he said abruptly, "what was that move you were doing when I came in?"

"That's part of a whole dance Ruwa taught me," Bill said. He flicked Tom a knowing glance. "Would you like to see it?"

Tom tried not to be disturbed. He knew it was just Bill; with anyone else, especially a girl, it would have been flirting, but with Bill it was - something else. Tom just couldn't say what, exactly.

"Sure," he said. He gave a half-shrug. When Bill had that kind of a look on his face it meant that he thought he was winning, and Tom's responsibility as a big brother was to keep going until Bill no longer thought that. Again, Tom couldn't say what exactly they were competing about, but it felt like it had been going on for their whole lives.

"Okay! Gimme some room," Bill said, shooing Tom away and crouching to fuss with a CD player. Tom stepped back. There was a chair next to the door so he sprawled on it and crossed his arms, looking at Bill expectantly, like he was saying let's see what you can do.

Bill programmed the CD player and got up. He positioned himself carefully in front of the mirror. "It's really immersible, so don't interrupt," Bill warned Tom. "Syrian dancing is about feelings and expressions and things like that. It's not just technique."

Tom barely had time to smirk and start to formulate something witty to say when the music started playing. Bill raised his chin and looked straight at Tom, and the look Tom had seen before was back. It was intense. Tom didn't even know what changed but Bill looked like a different person. It was like his eyes were bigger and his lashes longer and he looked fierce and vulnerable at the same time.

It was surreal to be looked at like that by Bill, of all people. Tom couldn't look away. He felt hot all over and he was just going to shift and say something, despite Bill telling him not to, just to break the moment. Then the music changed and Bill turned his eyes away, turning his face to the side and gliding a few steps away from Tom, his movements matching the music perfectly.

Bill was good. Tom couldn't deny that. His hips were undulating in time with the music and he moved his hands in graceful circles and arcs, following them with his eyes. Then he folded his arms over his chest, first one, then the other, smiled a little and looked straight at Tom. His eyes were full of amusement and promise of something that made Tom feel uncomfortable again.

Bill looked away right when the music stopped. Then the music picked up again and Bill started to bounce his hip up and down, moving his wrists and nimble fingers in slow, soft circles.

Tom swallowed. Bill was smiling widely now, looking into the distance or glancing down coyly every now and then. It was clear that his expressions were a part of the dance, as practiced as the rest of it. It still made Tom feel restless, like he wanted to get up and pace for a while. Bill was so innocent, it didn't feel right when he gazed at Tom like that. Who was he thinking about, to look like that?

The music slowed down for a moment and Bill did, too. He made soft, rocking half-circles with his hips, his arms stretched out on shoulder-level and moving like waves. Bill's long fingernails were painted black and his fingers were surprisingly graceful. The way he curled them was also surprisingly feminine. Tom scowled. He would have to talk to Bill about dancing like this in public. He could just imagine the audience's reaction and it wouldn't be good at all.

Bill drew his arm back and lifted the other, moving his fingers in wavy circles like weaving them through water. He turned his head to look at his fingers and spiky locks of his hair shifted, exposing his long, bare neck. It looked so vulnerable Tom's throat felt tight. Sometimes Bill just didn't have any idea what he looked like and what other people thought about him. He wouldn't understand that crowds would ridicule him if they saw him like this. Or worse.

There was a drum solo and Bill did the Shakira move, rotating his hip with one hand by his ear, but then at the end of the hip movement he kicked his foot forward and shifted to the left before doing it all over again. Tom couldn't get over how good he really was. The kick made his leg seem long and desirable like a woman's, and the movements of his hip and hand were fluid and sure. Tom could imagine people looking at Bill with appreciation as well as disgust. There was no doubt he was appealing to certain types.

Kicking all the way, Bill did a full circle, and then he changed sides and did the same move in the other direction. He always looked back and not where he was going, so when he changed sides, he looked over his shoulder and straight at Tom. His eyes were dark, mysterious and warm, and his expression was something Tom had never seen on Bill's face before. He had to take a deep breath once Bill broke eye contact, and he wondered again: Who was Bill thinking about?

Tom was sure Bill was innocent; he was a virgin, he'd barely even kissed anyone. It was disconcerting that Bill could look like that. Like he was going to tease someone until he was chased and caught. Like he'd be playful and inventive and an absolutely delight in bed. Tom chewed on his lip. He wanted to stop the CD and tell Bill not to dance like this in public, not to look at anyone like that. He realised that he was sitting up, all tense, and tried to relax back into the chair.

Bill lifted both of his arms, putting one hand by his ear and extending another as he started to walk in a rocking, sensual way. It accentuated his bare midriff. If he'd been a woman, he would have been unbelievably inviting and tempting, from the way he moved his hips and his arms to the amount of bare skin showing. It was one thing to watch Shakira on television and something else to look at a warm, live human body undulating right there, close enough to touch.

Too bad it wasn't Shakira. Tom jiggled his knee.

Next Bill tried to move his belly in rippling, snake-like motion at the same time as he walked. It drew the eye, even when the movement stuttered. Bill seemed to know he couldn't quite pull it off and let out a breathless laughter. Tom realised another odd thing about watching his brother bellydance in women's clothes: he wasn't speaking or singing. That was almost the weirdest thing of all.

The music was picking up towards a crescendo and Bill stopped where he was, lifted his arms and started to do the shimmy again. The coins jingled like mad and his hips wriggled and wriggled. It was bizarre to see him do that. It was like a woman was doing it. But even though he was wearing women's clothes, he still wasn't a woman. Tom kept getting weird associations, watching that. In a way, it was sexual, and it made Tom think about a woman shaking her hips and needing to be pinned. Fuck, he knew that some people would look at Bill as Bill and feel the same. Like they wanted to pin him and press their bodies against him. Tom's jaw clenched. He had to move and he ground his palms against his thighs and put his leg on his knee.

The thing was that Bill wasn't ready for that kind of attention. He had never dealt with anything like that and Tom knew that he didn't know how to. He needed to be kept away from situations like that. The idea of someone looking at Bill like that made Tom feel sick. It made him feel like punching things. Or people, if need be.

The song had a slow outro that Bill spent rolling his shoulders and arms like they were boneless. Tom had to admit he was impressed. He was less so with the way Bill looked, his face soft and beautiful, his head turned just slightly but drawing attention to his collarbones and neck, like he was inviting soft kisses there.

The music died away and Bill stood suspended for a moment, the soft look lingering in his eyes and his fingers still curled. He looked like a dancer. Then he broke off, laughing delightedly and clapping his hands, looking at Tom in the mirror.

"That was awesome! It went really well! What did you think?"

Tom shrugged. Bill whirled around. "Come on! You're the first person I've ever danced for. What was it like?"

Devastating, Tom didn't say. "You're pretty good," he said. "I guess."

"Tom," Bill whined. "Seriously?"

"You're good, okay?" Tom admitted. "You must know that."

"Well, yeah," Bill said, and smiled brilliantly. "But I wanted to make sure! What if I'd missed something?"

Another song started playing and Bill went to stop the CD, talking incessantly. "I know there are some things I'm still not really that good at, but on the whole, I think I've got it! It's a great feeling when it goes really well. Some days I'm just horrible. You should have seen me at the beginning! I was awful. It's a wonder Ruwa didn't laugh at me."

Tom snorted. "How did you keep this a secret, again?"

Bill turned to look at him with wide eyes. "I wasn't sure how you felt about it," he confessed. "So I thought I wouldn't talk about it much."

"Well, you look like a harem girl," Tom said.

"Exactly, I thought you'd have a problem with it," Bill said. Tom shook his head. Bill didn't seem too worried now that Tom had seen everything.

"You're still gonna keep it a secret, right?" Tom asked. He felt worried but tried to act nonchalant so that Bill wouldn't notice. "Not like you're gonna dance like this on stage when we have a gig or something?"

"Ha, no, of course not!" Bill snorted. "When I'm on stage my dancing is all original! You know that. I'd never copy moves from someone else!"

"Okay, good," Tom said, relieved. "But I think you shouldn't dance like that in public anywhere else, either. The headlines would be epic."

Bill skewed his mouth. "I know," he said. "I'm not going to. I don't think anyone would understand. But it's a shame, you know? It would be fun to show someone." He shrugged. "Maybe I can dance for you again some time?"

Tom wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he nodded, anyway. The most important thing was that Bill didn't dance in front of anyone else.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna go eat something," he said. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Not really. Wait until I change and I'll come with," Bill said. He started to collect his things. Tom opened the door, ready to leave, but then he hesitated.

"Hey, by the way," he said. Bill looked up. "You kind of have this... really intense look when you dance. Who are you thinking about when you look like that?"

"Oh!" Bill smiled. "No one! I can't think about anyone for real, it would be distracting. The emotion is all play-acting!"

Tom felt like a heavy weight had been lifted. He'd been right. Bill was still innocent.

"I'm so glad you noticed it!" Bill said, looking happy. "It's really important to have the right expression! Thanks."

He beamed at Tom and Tom smiled back. Maybe it was weird to have a brother who bellydanced, but when the brother in question was Bill, it didn't feel that bad.

Then Bill turned and Tom's eyes were drawn to his bare back and the dip of his spine. Suddenly Tom remembered vividly how it had felt to touch him there. His body tensed like he was going to do something crazy: bolt, or go back to Bill and touch him there again. He tore his eyes away.

When he left the room, he was frowning again.

If you wouldn't be opposed to seeing Bill bellydancing, here's a picture of him, drawn by the talented toastieghostie!