(no subject)

[peki]

Title: Into the blue (2/2)
Pairing: Bill/Gustav
Rating: PG13
Summary: Tom has returned from the past with some insights which cause friction between the twins and threaten to upset the dynamic of the band.


As it turned out, Gustav had color-coded their rehearsal schedule for the next two months, and he’d also drawn up pie charts detailing the percentages of drum, bass, guitar and vocal participation in each song as well as lists of their respective strengths and weaknesses. He explained everything with the thoroughness of a drill sergeant and left no doubt that he’d hold them all accountable, and Bill listened to the whole sermon with a smile while Georg paled and Tom twitched in his seat wanting to play with Gustav’s rainbow-colored markers.

A year of hard work was ahead. Watching his companions, Bill could hardly wait. No matter what else they were or would become, they would remain this weird little family. A band of brothers…although Bill’s intentions towards one of their group were far from brotherly.

It so happened that he was seated across from Gustav in their circle so he could watch the drummer for his cues as they practiced. Bill enjoyed recording, but this was always the best way to sing: live, with Tom on his right and Georg on his left and Gustav’s beat backing them all up, pushing them forward and keeping them in line when a song threatened to fall apart.

Gustav had been right: their guitarist and bassist were working hard to get through their chords, and Bill forgot his lyrics more than once, although that had less to do with bad memory than with Gustav glancing up and meeting his eyes occasionally over his cymbals before ducking back down, his cheeks flushed with the exertion of drumming and maybe something else. Bill couldn’t tear his eyes away, no matter how Georg cursed and Tom began to flail spasmodically beside him.

“Damn,” Georg sighed when they’d finished their first run-through of the setlist. He shook out his hands. “Cramps.”

“Tell me about it,” Gustav said. He got up off his stool and stretched, joints cracking.

Bill glanced at the clock on the wall. They’d been at it for almost three hours. His throat was a little itchy with strain, and the deep breathing techniques required for singing were definitely a workout in and of themselves. He took a long drink from a water bottle.

“Have you planned for a break?” Tom asked, searching the timetable Gustav had stuck on the wall for the blue box that marked ‘lunch’. “We didn’t have a real breakfast.”

“Great. Bill’s going to be a stick figure by the time we start touring,” Gustav told Tom reproachfully.

“Not my fault he’s too lazy to build some muscle,” Tom said.

“It’s your fault if you’re not feeding him enough.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Bill complained loudly. He could feel Tom tensing beside him and kicked at his twin’s leg so he’d snap out of it. “I’m not a baby, so stop treating me like one.” He gave Gustav a pointed look, and the drummer shrugged sheepishly.

“If you lived with me, I’d make sure you get a proper breakfast in the morning. It’s the most important meal of the day! All you two ever have is coffee and cigarettes--”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t live with you,” Tom snapped. He’d gone from relaxed to furious at light speed, and Bill could sense the same aggravation winding him up that had made Tom flip out that morning. No matter how calm and collected Tom had been when discussing this on an abstract level - Bill realized the whole situation was more precarious than he’d thought. He didn’t really know what to do with a Tom who was bursting at the seams with jealousy; it had never been like this before.

It had never been like this before. Bill didn’t want it to end before anything had even begun. Not yet, not ever, not over a stupid fight.

Before Tom could jump out of his seat and at Gustav, Bill put a steadying hand on his twin’s shoulder. He squeezed Tom hard and felt how tense he was with anger and fear. It made him want to reach out and hug Tom, wrap himself around his twin and assure him that it was okay, nothing was going to change, nothing would ever come between them, but Georg was there, looking on with his mouth hanging open, and Gustav was there, standing with his arms wrapped around himself and a frown on his face, and Bill couldn’t defuse the situation without causing upset in someone.

He patted Tom helplessly, mouth working but no words coming out, at a loss for what to say. “Hey,” was all that would come, “hey,” and luckily, Tom heard him, heard the million undertones that the word carried with it. A hard shudder went through him. Tom tore his furious glare away from Gustav and looked at Bill.

“He doesn’t get to say that to me!” he said angrily.

“No, he doesn’t.” Bill tilted his head towards Gustav, and the drummer, thankfully, took the hint.

“Sorry,” he grumbled. “I didn’t mean to… I just, I worry about you. Both of you! All of you! I made Georg breakfast this morning, too!”

“He did,” Georg said. “Whole grain pancakes.”

Tom snorted. Georg’s newfound interest in fitness and nutrition had become a running joke among the band, down to his trainer being included in the liner notes of their album. “Disgusting.”

“They were delicious, actually,” Georg said, giving a thumbs-up to Gustav, who still stood frozen to his spot behind his drumset, his hands buried deeply in his pockets. “C’mon, dude, you’ve probably got low blood sugar.” Georg nudged Tom carefully in the back. “Way to overreact. Let’s order some pizza.”

“Just because you’ve accepted that health nut of a trainer as your personal savior doesn’t mean you get to lecture me on blood sugar,” Tom grouched, but he slipped off his stool and followed Georg into the kitchen. At the door, he glanced back at Bill before looking at Gustav. “Sorry, Gustav.”

Gustav nodded curtly. “I get snappish too when I’m hungry.”

“You’re always snappish,” Georg laughed, and dragged Tom out of the room.

Groaning, Bill flung himself on the couch face-first, legs dangling over the edge. “Oh god,” he burst out.

“I’m sorry,” Gustav said sheepishly from somewhere by his head. A moment later, Bill felt the couch dip under Gustav’s weight and a hand touch his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that, I know you hate it when people lecture you about eating.”

Bill raised his head and found Gustav perched awkwardly on the edge of the couch. “You can say to me what you want, I know you mean well,” he said, “but don’t be mean to Tom.”

“I wasn’t…” Gustav started, but he trailed off lamely when he saw Bill’s face. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. I don’t know why I said those things, I knew they’d tick him off.”

“That’s probably why you said them,” Bill pointed out the obvious. “But why?”

Gustav frowned. “When he wished himself away… I don’t know, I was so angry at him. The chances he took, with all of our lives! With your life!”

“He didn’t mean to,” Bill said softly. “I’m not angry at him.”

“You couldn’t be angry at him if you tried,” Gustav grumbled, but he smiled a little. “It’s stupid. But it’s also sweet. Oh, you two.”

“It’s not stupid,” Bill protested. “I love him.”

“I know.” Gustav patted his back. “And I know it hurts you when he’s hurting, so I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” The hand on his back felt nice. Bill dropped his head back down onto his folded arms and closed his eyes.

“You guys, this is only day one,” Georg’s voice came despairingly from the kitchen door. “The emotional outbursts aren’t due for at least two weeks yet!”

“Weird. Gustav doesn’t have them marked on his timetable,” Tom chimed in, and they both laughed.

“Seriously. Can we save the intense conversations for another time? I’m too hungry,” Georg said.

“That why you lost so much weight? All the intense conversations with your girlfriend?” Tom teased.

There was a slapping sound as Georg smacked him. “That’d be a very good reason, anyway.”

Gustav sighed, but his hand didn’t stop its soothing motion on Bill’s back, almost as if he was caressing him without any conscious thought. “Did you order some food then?”

“Two pizza margaritas and two salami,” Georg confirmed. “Ping pong while we wait?”

“Nap time,” Bill murmured. He reached out a hand blindly and felt one identical to his clasp it just a moment later.

“That’s right. We didn’t get to sleep in this morning.” Tom’s voice, admonishing Gustav, was still a little curt, but Bill could tell he was trying for a smile. He could hear it. “Move over!” Bill scooted over obediently; Gustav’s hand disappeared and was replaced by Tom’s arms coming around him, Tom’s long body stretching out next to Bill’s on the couch.

“Juschtel!” he heard Georg say as if from faraway, “Ping pong!”

“All right,” Gustav grumbled. “You’re going to lose, you know.”

“Ha!” Georg’s laughter faded as the pair disappeared to the back of the house, where their ping pong table was set up in the solarium.

“Are you really tired?” Bill whispered to his twin.

“Nah,” Tom said. “I just wanted him to stop touching you for a while.”

Bill wanted to feel annoyed, but it was hard when he was pleasantly drowsy and wrapped up warm and snug. “Didn’t you say you’d help me get him?”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed. “Later, okay?”

Bill opened his eyes a crack to peer at his twin’s face, close to his. “You all right?”

“Yes.” Tom didn’t look like he wasn’t. He smiled. “This whole thing just needs a little getting used to, and he was pushing it just now with his stupid comments. Give me some time, okay?”

“Okay,” Bill smiled. “No rush.” He’d known Gustav for ten years. Giving it a few more days…he could do that. Probably. And until then, he always had his dreams.

Bill woke again to the pleasant sensation of being cuddled. Two strong arms were wrapped around him and their owner was breathing deeply, steadily, in sleep. Smiling, Bill snuggled closer to the warm body that was curled around his, never opening his eyes. He loved being held, and if Tom was feeling indulgent, Bill was going to take full advantage of that. He clung possessively to the other’s chest, clutching fistfuls of soft fabric, and moved one leg to nudge Tom’s feet with his.

Tom’s feet were gone.

Startled, Bill kicked at thin air, wondering why their bodies didn’t line up as they were supposed to. A horrible thought crossed his mind - what if Tom was gone again and the younger Tom was back? - and he cried out, eyes snapping open in sudden terror.

Gustav yelped and fell off the couch with a heavy thud. “What? What? Sorry, I didn’t… I was just… You were…”

Bill blinked at him. “Gustav?”

Gustav was blushing furiously. He averted his eyes and climbed to his feet, gingerly rubbing his tailbone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…molest you or anything, just, Tom wasn’t sleepy and I was, and we all know you sleep better when you have someone close so I took his place and he went to play with Georg…” He trailed off. “Sorry,” he finished lamely.

“No, no, no!” Bill cried. His cheeks burned. It had been Gustav who had cuddled him. He’d slept with Gustav, in the sweetest, most innocent sense of the word, and it had been lovely and warm and comfortable, but now Gustav wasn’t looking at him, he was moving away and Bill couldn’t speak quickly enough. “I didn’t mind, I just, I thought you were Tom but then you didn’t feel like Tom and I got scared that he had disappeared again.” He tripped over his own long legs in his hurry to get up and catch Gustav’s wrist. “Please don’t go.”

Gustav squinted up at him cautiously, almost blind without his glasses. “So you’re okay then?”

“Of course,” Bill said. He smiled carefully. “You’re very cuddly.”

Gustav huffed. “Fat, you mean.”

“No!” Bill protested. “Don’t be so stupid.”

“Oh, so now I’m stupid too?”

Bill sighed. Gustav didn’t have his reputation as a world-class bitch for nothing. “You’re stupid for thinking I would feel molested by you.” He laughed lightly. “Honestly, Gustav! Can we get back on the couch, please? The break can’t be over yet, can it.” He looked at the clock. He’d only slept twenty minutes. Yawning, Bill shuffled back to the couch, dragging Gustav along with him by the wrist. The drummer followed, but his spine was rigid when Bill tried to curl up on the couch with him again and no amount of petting and whispered encouragement made Gustav relax. He lay there, tensing ever so slightly with every movement Bill made, his breathing shallow.

Huffing, Bill closed his eyes again. Maybe if he fell asleep Gustav would relax; he was wound tight like a coil, ready to spring if Bill gave him any reason to. Bill didn’t know how it was possible to be as uncomfortable as they were, lying stiffly side by side, when they’d been so cozy before. Gustav had had his arms around him and their legs tangled together, but now he seemed almost afraid of physical contact and while Bill might have been willing to admit that it was unusual for guys to cuddle like this, it wasn’t unusual for him and Gustav, or any of his band mates really. For some reason, though, Gustav seemed on edge; maybe he was still pissed off because of the earlier snapping match with Tom, or maybe he was feeling the subtle shift in their relationship too. Bill kind of hoped for the latter. In any case, he wasn’t going to miss a chance for closeness.

Humming low in his throat, he sneaked one arm around Gustav’s waist. The other man let him, and, encouraged, Bill grabbed a fistful of Gustav’s shirt again in his other hand, hanging on tightly as he brought one knee up to slide between Gustav’s.

Gustav stopped breathing. His whole body froze like a block of ice, hard and unmoving. Bill cracked open his eyes to find Gustav’s face inches from his, his lids fluttering like butterfly wings and his lips pressed together tightly. He looked like he would burst out crying any moment, and the look of abject misery on his face had Bill’s heart in his throat in an instant, choking him up.

“But, Juschtel,” he whispered hoarsely, “what’s wrong?”

At the sound of his voice, Gustav’s eyes snapped open. They were dark and glossy and wide with panic, and before Bill could say anything, do anything at all, Gustav had shoved him away and was scampering off the couch, his motions jerky. “Nothing,” he forced out in a voice that cracked like glass in bitter winter cold. “Leave me alone, okay? Just, leave it.”

Bill sat up. His heart pounded in his throat. “You’re being weird,” he said, trying desperately to sound normal, like he wasn’t hoping, hoping with every fiber of his being--

“You’re talking about weird?” Gustav barked. “Don’t.”

Hurt, Bill drew his knees up against his chest, curling in on himself. “I didn’t mean--”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Gustav all but screamed and ran for the door.

Bill watched him go in disappointment, wondering if he’d gotten it all wrong. He didn’t understand how the mood could turn like this, changeful like the wind. Maybe he’d made a mistake - maybe Tom had - maybe he’d just pushed his affection on an unresponsive Gustav, and…

No. In his own gruff way, Gustav was nothing if not affectionate.

Bill pondered his actions while they gathered around the kitchen table to eat their pizza, stealing glances at Gustav across from him. The drummer sat hunched over his pizza carton, his face impassive, looking for all the world like his normal grumpy self, but Bill could see the slight downward turn of his lips, the way he didn’t join in Tom and Georg’s jokes. Gustav was unhappy.

Well. At least they were on the same page, then.

Bill felt a bit queasy when they sat down in their circle again to continue their practice session. His stomach was churning with greasy pizza and a guilty conscience for whatever he’d done to make Gustav retreat into himself like he’d done, angry and hurt, and he couldn’t shake the feeling even as they played. Usually, the music made him feel better, singing unburdened his soul, but today, the lyrics stuck in his throat and what melody came out was brittle and off-key.

He could feel his brother’s eyes on him more than once, questioning silently, but he didn’t dare meeting Tom’s eyes for fear of breaking down and crying. The atmosphere was charged like the air before a furious thunderstorm. It fit the song: Monsoon, always Monsoon. Once, twice, a third time.

And then, halfway through the chorus, Gustav exploded. “Dammit, Bill!” The other three all jumped at the sudden outburst. “Could you pretend to be a professional for five minutes? God!”

Bill sat, shocked into stillness, and blinked at Gustav. The drummer had never raised his voice to him, never in all the time they’d known each other, and the reprimand stung all the more for it. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice.

Gustav scowled at him ferociously, and Bill shrunk a little under his hard stare. Gustav’s face was red, like every secret annoyance he’d ever harbored was bubbling up inside him at once in a way that had nothing to do at all with Bill’s imagined mistake. “Sorry!” he yelled. “That doesn’t cut it!”

“Hey!” Tom flicked his guitar pick at him. “No one but me gets to use that tone with him!”

“Oh, shut up, you!” Gustav snapped. “Let him speak for himself! He’s not a kid, he’s not yours to protect!”

Tom’s jaw set tightly. “Yes, he is.”

Bill shook off the paralysis of shock. “Tom, it’s--”

“Bullshit! Where were you when he freaked out and cut off his hair?” Gustav shouted.

“What is it with you two today?” Georg asked, aghast. “Okay, the song needs a little work, so can we focus--”

Gustav hit the bassist, next to him, with a drumstick. “Shut up, Georg!”

“You have some nerve,” Tom growled at Gustav. “Like you didn’t love it when you got your moment!”

“That’s not true! I care about him, I’d never…”All the blood seemed to rush to Gustav’s head at once. He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said tightly after a moment’s awkward silence.

Tom barked out a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Tom, be quiet,” Bill said. He laid a hand on his twin’s shoulder, but Tom shrugged him off jerkily. He set aside his guitar and pushed up his sleeves.

“No! He started it! Now that we’re getting things out in the open--”

“What the hell is going on?” Georg exclaimed.

“Tom!” Bill grabbed his brother’s arms and placed himself bodily between him and Gustav so Tom was forced to look at Bill. Their eyes met, and Tom’s hard glare softened instantly. The crease between his brows eased. “Please,” Bill said, low, the word vibrating with the charge of a hundred other, more complicated things. “Go take another break, okay?”

“I could use a smoke,” Georg agreed.

Tom looked like he wanted to protest, but when he saw Bill’s imploring look, he nodded curtly.

“Good. You go smoke. You,” Bill whirled around the catch Gustav getting up from behind his drums, “Come with me. We need to talk.” Before the drummer had a chance to protest, he grabbed his wrist and marched Gustav out of the rehearsal room, through the hall, up the stairs and into the studio apartment. It was messy, like every place Georg inhabited. Bill swept aside a pizza box and a few empty Diet Red Bull cans so he could sit Gustav down on the couch and loom over him. Sometimes, his height really was a great advantage.

“What--” Gustav started.

“I told you! I told you, but you couldn’t listen!”

“Listen to what?” Gustav snapped. He jumped up. “You say so many things--”

Bill shoved him back down onto the couch. “Yell at me all you like, insult my singing, I don’t care. But don’t you dare bitch at Tom for the time travel accident. He feels bad for it and I’ve already told him off. If you upset him again, I’ll kick your ass.”

Gustav seemed to catch himself under Bill’s savage glare. “Okay,” he said, more calmly. “Sorry, all right? But I can’t stand it when he pretends like he’s the only one who cares about you! He’s your brother, I know how close you are, but I’ve known you for ten years and I thought we were friends!”

“Of course we’re friends!” Bill sat down beside the drummer, who instantly scooted further down the couch. He frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Gustav suddenly seemed to deflate. He pulled away and shrunk in on himself like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You know I didn’t mean it. Can we go downstairs?”

“No,” Bill said. “I don’t mind you snapping at me. I can take the truth!”

“I know. That’s all I meant! You’re a big boy, you can hold your own.” Gustav sighed bitterly. “You’re probably the strongest person I know.”

Bill frowned at him. “So why do you all insist on babying me? Why do you take this out on Tom when he didn’t even do anything wrong?”

“Because I care about you too much to yell at you like I want to.” Gustav had his head propped up in both hands and was staring down at the toes of his sneakers, his mouth making a tight, unhappy line in his round face, and Bill couldn’t help himself, he had to reach out and touch him.

Gustav flinched, but allowed Bill’s hand on his back, stroking slowly. “So yell at me,” Bill murmured. “Scream, whatever, just tell me the truth!”

Gustav didn’t look at him. “What do you mean?”

Bill sighed impatiently. “Why are you really so frustrated with me? Can’t be my singing, because that’s not worse than it’s ever been, so just come out and fucking say it, Gustav!”

Again, Gustav was blushing a dull, furious red. “Say what?”

Bill squinted at him, irritated. Why people were so cagey about their feelings, he’d never understand. Half a day, and he’d had enough of this. Enough. “How do you feel about me?”

Gustav’s head snapped up. He stared at Bill for a few long moments, his throat working furiously but no sound coming out. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed, and he balled his large drummer’s fists until the knuckles stood out white. “You and Tom,” he ground out, “you think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Bill said flatly, his heart hammering, threatening to burst out of his chest, “I think we do.”

“Well, good for you!” Gustav jumped up and was at the door quicker than Bill had ever seen him move.

“Gustav!” he cried, scampering over the couch to follow. Gustav was storming down the hall like a man running for his life, his shoulders hunched as if against some heavy weight, and he was almost at the door that led to the stairs and down into the studio when Bill caught up with him on long legs.

Gustav wrenched the door open, and Bill threw himself against him from behind, knocking the door shut again with the impact of their bodies connecting. He grabbed Gustav’s shoulder and turned him around, looked down into the other’s crumpled, panic-stricken face, and suddenly felt very certain of what he needed to do. “Wait,” he said, low, “I’m not finished with you!” and caught Gustav’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

Gustav started back, but he was trapped between Bill and the door. The back of his skull hit solid wood and Bill slid his hand up to cradle the blond head, leaning in to press insistent lips to Gustav’s. Gustav gasped, a small, desperate sound almost like a sob, and then he was kissing back, head tilting into the caress of Bill’s hands and his lips opening to the press of Bill’s tongue, meeting him halfway. Teeth hit teeth in the sudden, fierce clash of their emotions, and Bill laughed quietly, changing the angle to deepen the kiss. His heart thumped madly like Gustav’s bass drum, every fiber of his body rising to the long-forgotten call of his desire, and he curled his tongue around Gustav’s like he wanted to curl all of himself around the other’s body. The small silver ball of his tongue stud nudged gently against the roof of Gustav’s mouth and Gustav groaned low in his throat.

When they broke apart, his eyes were dark; he looked like wanted to throw Bill over his shoulder and drag him to the next cave. Bill chuckled breathlessly.

“Oh fuck,” Gustav groaned.

Bill cocked his head, smiling. He shrugged, fingers curling gently into Gustav’s short hair, every nerve working on overdrive now, making him giddy. “Sure. Later, okay?”

Gustav stared at him as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. “This some experiment to you?”

“No!” Bill protested. “I just, well we, Tom and I, finally realized that you… I…”

Gustav’s brow furrowed. “I thought you weren’t gay.”

“I thought you weren’t gay!” Bill echoed in a surprisingly accurate imitation of Gustav’s gruff voice. “Is that really what matters here?”

Gustav scowled. “It matters to me if you’re going to change your mind about it--”

“Are you going to change your mind?” Bill countered.

Gustav hesitated. Then, he shook his head, new color flooding his face. “I’ve had a few years to think about it.”

“Oh, really?” Bill asked coyly, and Gustav nudged him in the chest so he stumbled back.

“Yeah, really,” he said, advancing on Bill with purposeful steps. “So you’d better not be messing with me.” A horrific thought seemed to strike him like a lightning bolt. He flinched. “Is this the prank Tom was planning? Are you messing with me?”

Bill’s eyes flashed. “Does this feel like messing around?” he snapped, catching himself mid-step. He launched forward and met Gustav halfway. Their lips clashed again; Bill’s arms wound around the drummer’s back, fingers digging into hard muscle, one long leg curling around the back of Gustav’s knee; their bodies aligned like they never had before, hard angles meeting firm, warm flesh, and Gustav moaned, stumbling back with the impact of Bill wrapping himself around him. Together, they collapsed in a heap of limbs on the scratchy brown carpeted floor in the hall, kissing, kissing.

“You’re stupid,” Bill gasped, breaking away only to glare down at Gustav beneath him. “If you really think I’d make a joke out of this, you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you,” Gustav protested. His voice was rough, like all the raw, burning emotions he’d kept hidden away for ten years were tearing out of him at once. “I know you. Oh, god.”

“What?” Bill asked cheekily, only to receive a hard nudge to the chest. He sat back on his haunches, grinning, suddenly feeling light, at ease. Gustav was still lying on the floor, his body heaving with hard breaths. For a minute, he didn’t move, only clutched at his chest with both hands. It was kind of worrisome. Brow furrowing, Bill crawled over him to peer down into his face. “Gustav? You in there?”

“Yup,” Gustav said tightly. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I was thinking that Tom’s going to kill me.” The acknowledgement of what had just happened hit them then, with the mention of Tom’s name bringing them firmly back to reality. Their eyes met; Bill smiled softly, tentatively, and felt awash with relief when Gustav slowly began to smirk. “It’s probably worth it, though.”

Bill’s laugh was high and joyful. “You think?”

“You’re fishing again,” Gustav pointed out gruffly.

“Always,” Bill said, grinning. “It’s your fault, you know. You’ve got me spoiled.”

Gustav looked startled at that. “I didn’t… I thought I’d never let on that I… How’d you…”

“Tom saw it when I didn’t,” Bill admitted. He toyed with a button on Gustav’s shirt, one finger sneaking into the vee at the top to slide over smooth, warm skin.

Gustav shivered. “Tom?”

“If not for him, we wouldn’t find ourselves here,” Bill smirked. “So be nice to him, yeah?”

“What? This is Tom’s matchmaking at work?” Gustav seemed shell-shocked at that.

“Yep,” Bill said lightly. His fingers dipped lower into Gustav’s collar. He was fascinated with the warmth of Gustav’s skin, the softness of him, but much as Bill would’ve liked to pop one, two, three of those little buttons down Gustav’s front and see if Gustav felt as nice everywhere, they actually had to have this out. And then there were two worried band mates waiting downstairs…

Bill sighed. “People never give Tom enough credit.”

“Apparently,” Gustav breathed. His cheeks were burning, and Bill realized that his knee was pressing against the other’s groin.

Grinning, he leaned down and kissed Gustav soundly, rubbing their bodies together, making the brief contact count. Gustav moaned quietly, and Bill took his time exploring the other’s lips, flicking his tongue stud, teasing, savoring the taste until Gustav rose up and caught him firmly around the neck with one hand, his tongue curling smoothly around Bill’s like they’d been doing this all along.

Indeed, it would be so easy to get used to this, Bill thought faintly when they broke apart. This, and more.

Gustav’s eyes were wide behind his glasses; he looked like he was thinking the same thing.

“Good?” Bill asked softly.

Gustav nodded.

“More?” It sounded light, but it was nothing less than a promise of the future.

“Everything,” Gustav whispered. “Anything you want.”

He already held Bill’s heart in the palm of his hand; he’d had it for a long time, just like Bill had his. In some shape or form, Bill realized with wonder, this had always been. Whatever else was there, they’d discover in time. Tenderly, he touched Gustav’s face with his fingertips. “That’s everything, then.”

“You got it,” Gustav said, and they sealed the promise with a kiss.

***

“You can’t be serious,” Georg said. “Bill and Gustav? Bill and Gustav?”

“All these years it’s been right under our noses,” Tom nodded. “I realized when I went back…forward…through time.”

Nodding slowly, Georg poured them two more shots of vodka. The six-liter bottle Bill had brought along for Christmas still wasn’t empty, but Tom found that he lacked a taste for liquor these days. Still, judging by the kerfuffle they’d heard going on in the apartment upstairs, and the following silence, the day was only going to get more eventful. He tossed the vodka back in one, feeling it burn smoothly down his throat.

“What do we do now?” Georg asked.

“We wait,” Tom said. Bill wasn’t a patient sort; whatever those two were discussing upstairs, it wouldn’t take long. Unless…

He made a face, and Georg chortled. “You okay with it then?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tom said. “It’s Gustav. We’ve been friends for ages.”

“You didn’t seem so thrilled with him today,” Georg said in a level voice.

“I was nervous.” Tom hadn’t even realized how true it was before he said it. Between the fight with Bill, the talk while they drove down to the studio, and watching Gustav and Bill circle each other, he’d been on edge all day. His twins’ emotional state always affected Tom, but only now that the drama seemed to near its conclusion did he notice the knot in his stomach, could feel it loosen. It had all been too much, the events of the past ten days.

“A little jealous?” Georg suggested gently.

Tom snorted. “A little.”

Georg thumped his back. “That’s okay. You’re close. You’ll always be close.”

“Yeah.” If the journey through time had taught Tom anything, it was how precious their twinly bond was, how strong and enduring. It had been the thread he’d followed in the labyrinth of time, the lifeline that had pulled him out and back to his own reality. He’d never let it go, and neither would Bill. He was certain of it, more certain than he’d ever been of anything.

“Don’t worry.” Georg’s warm voice, his hand on Tom’s shoulder brought him back to the present moment.

“I’m not worried,” Tom said, and it was true. They were friends; before all else, they’d always be friends. Their feelings for each other had always been and would always be. And if some little things changed…if Bill bounced around singing love songs and Gustav smiled more, Tom could deal with that. He was not a fan of change, but he could let go of the past if the future was even better. He smiled. “I’m happy for them.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bill’s cheerful voice said from the door. He and Gustav stood on the threshold, their hands wrapped tightly around each other. Tom looked into his twin’s sparkling eyes and knew instantly that all would be well. Bill was beaming, and even Gustav looked slightly less grumpy than usual, if not a little nervous.

The drummer took a deep breath. His hand tightened around Bill’s. “We should explain.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I already broke it to him.” Tom jerked his head at Georg, who was having trouble stifling a smirk.

“This is going to upset the timetable so bad.” Georg was positively giddy.

Gustav raised his chin. “I was going to explain myself to you.” He nodded at Tom.

Their eyes met. For a few moments, the two men stared at each other. Gustav was blinking rapidly, nervously, and there was a crease between his brows, but he returned Tom’s hard look without flinching, and Tom could see the determination in his eyes, the burning desire to prove himself worthy. Gustav would never hurt Bill deliberately, Tom knew. He’d do anything to make him happy. Time would show the outcome. Tom had been humbled enough that he knew he couldn’t presume to guess at what the future might hold.

He shrugged. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He smiled slowly. “But you know that Bill will tell me everything you say and do to him, so you’d better be good.”

Gustav had known the twins too long to be shocked at that; and even if he was, he accepted the fact for what it was. “I was going to do my best anyway.”

“I know,” Tom said gruffly. He chanced a look at Bill, who was standing with both his hands clasped around Gustav’s, wibbling on the spot with the overwhelming force of his happiness, and Tom couldn’t contain himself any longer. He broke into a wide grin, crossing the room to thump Gustav soundly in the chest. “Dude! What else have you been hiding from us?”

“Nothing.” Gustav’s relief was immense and sincere. His frown eased, giving way to an expression of tentative delight. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “No more secrets.”

Georg reached into the cupboard for more glasses. “This calls for drinks, no?”

“We still have a tour to prepare.” Gustav tried and failed to sound stern; it didn’t quite work when he was smiling all over his face. “Recent…developments notwithstanding.”

“Right. Three love birds on the tour bus,” Tom sighed. “This is going to be the most boring tour ever, isn’t it.”

“This is going to be the best tour ever,” Bill declared, grinning. He swung their joined hands. “Paris, Juschtel! It’s going to be so romantic!”

For a moment, Gustav looked horrified. He exchanged a wary look with Tom, who grinned and raised his glass to him.

“You had to know what you were getting into,” Tom told their drummer dryly. “Now deal with it.”

“Congratulations!” Georg added, laughing.

“I resent your tone,” Bill said loftily. “It’s going to be awesome!” He glanced at Gustav, and a slow blush rose in his cheeks. Tom hadn’t thought Bill could still blush; he was inexplicably glad to be proven wrong. “Right?”

“Um, I think so.” Gustav’s smile stole over his face in spite of himself. “Awesome.”

Georg made a gagging noise. He elbowed Tom. “Look at them making eyes at each other!”

“Like you are any better, with that girlfriend of yours!” Gustav scoffed.

“Oh, no, the girlfriend jokes are over,” Georg decreed, smirking wickedly. “Now it’s your turn!”

Gustav looked unimpressed; until he glanced at Bill, that was, and his face lit up like the sun rising over the world. “Whatever,” he decided. “Bring it on. I don’t care.”

“You will,” Georg promised. “We’ll make you. Right, Tom?”

They would, they would. But not today. Today, Tom was watching his little brother bounce in place, giddy with happiness, and he felt a great calm come over him. They would be all right. As long as Bill was happy, he was happy. What would be, would be. “You know,” he told Georg, “I think we should give them a break. At least until tomorrow.”