(no subject)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TEAROSE99!
For your birthday, I've written you a ficlet:
~
Bill woke, tossing an arm out as he stirred in his sleep, encountering nothing but bare sheets and furry bodies.
No Tom.
He frowned, eyes slitting open as he glared at the bedside clock.
It was the middle of the night. So where was his brother?
Bill listened for sounds from the en suite bathroom, but the room was dark and silent.
He sat up groggily, dislodging the various dog-parts that were draped over him, legs and tails and cool wet noses.
“Tom?” he called hesitantly.
No answer.
His frown deepened.
Tom slept like the dead, normally. It wasn’t like him to get up in the middle of the night, and it certainly wasn’t like him not to wake Bill if he did. He hated spending a moment alone, and on more than one occasion Bill had to yell at him for waking him just to tell him he was going to pee.
Bill slung his legs over the bed, searching blindly with his toes for his fuzzy slippers before sliding them on with a luxuriant sigh. Bunny slippers were his greatest indulgence.
“Tom?” he called again, padding to the door. The hall was dark, and devoid of life. He bit his lip, suddenly unsure. Had Tom left the house? Where would he go in the middle of the night without telling Bill?
The last few days flitted through Bill’s mind; Tom had been distant, distracted. Like his thoughts were a million miles away from the present. Away from Bill.
Bill huffed. First he had been ignored, and now abandoned.
There was going to be hell to pay, the minute he found his errant brother.
He set off down the hall with as determined a stride as he could manage in his fuzzy slippers (which was more like a slow shuffle). The house was quiet and dark, and doubt began to well up in Bill.
Tom wouldn’t really go somewhere without him, would he?
Bill let out a relieved breath as he spotted lights at the end of the hall.
The kitchen was illuminated, ablaze in the dark of the night.
Something clattered loudly and Bill frowned, stepping forward hesitantly.
What was Tom up to?
“I’ve been thinking about you for days,” Tom’s voice floated out of the kitchen, the words uttered in a low, longing moan.
Bill’s eyes widened as he crept up to the doorway as silently as possible and slowly peered around the frame.
At first, he couldn’t see anything but the mess on the kitchen counter; pots and pans and bowls and plates, scattered everywhere.
And then he spotted Tom.
“TOM!” he bellowed, striding into the room. “How could you betray me this way?”
“Mrrph?” Tom asked, eyes wide.
“What are you doing?” Bill demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Nrphing?” Tom offered.
He was covered in powdered sugar.
“You’re sneaking off in the middle of the night for an illicit tryst with a waffle?” Bill squawked.
Tom hunched further over his plate, as if that could disguise the stack of perfectly formed Belgian waffles, beautifully dusted with powdered sugar.
“Sorry?” he offered, gulping down the food in his mouth.
“Tom, how could you?” Bill huffed indignantly.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Tom said, hanging his head. “They’re so good.”
“God, Tom,” Bill whined. “You have no self control.”
“Me?” Tom gasped, indignant. “It’s your diet that means I sneak off and meet my waffles in secret.”
Bill huffed. Was it his fault that the sight of Tom eating delicious waffles was too much for him? The second he saw his twin’s lips coated in sugary sweet goodness, he was a goner.
He’d wake up from a waffle coma hours later, and he wouldn’t be able to fasten his favourite pants. “This is the last time, Tom.”
Tom sighed, looking down at his plate. “Oh, waffles,” he whispered. “When will we finally be able to reveal our love?”
“When I don’t care how my ass looks in leopard leggings,” Bill shot back over his shoulder, headed back to bed.
Tom looked at the waffles. “He’ll be wearing those when he’s eighty,” he told them sadly.
~
Based on your lovely comment: Bill will never be done with him. He'll have to keep the waffle as his side piece.
For your birthday, I've written you a ficlet:
~
Bill woke, tossing an arm out as he stirred in his sleep, encountering nothing but bare sheets and furry bodies.
No Tom.
He frowned, eyes slitting open as he glared at the bedside clock.
It was the middle of the night. So where was his brother?
Bill listened for sounds from the en suite bathroom, but the room was dark and silent.
He sat up groggily, dislodging the various dog-parts that were draped over him, legs and tails and cool wet noses.
“Tom?” he called hesitantly.
No answer.
His frown deepened.
Tom slept like the dead, normally. It wasn’t like him to get up in the middle of the night, and it certainly wasn’t like him not to wake Bill if he did. He hated spending a moment alone, and on more than one occasion Bill had to yell at him for waking him just to tell him he was going to pee.
Bill slung his legs over the bed, searching blindly with his toes for his fuzzy slippers before sliding them on with a luxuriant sigh. Bunny slippers were his greatest indulgence.
“Tom?” he called again, padding to the door. The hall was dark, and devoid of life. He bit his lip, suddenly unsure. Had Tom left the house? Where would he go in the middle of the night without telling Bill?
The last few days flitted through Bill’s mind; Tom had been distant, distracted. Like his thoughts were a million miles away from the present. Away from Bill.
Bill huffed. First he had been ignored, and now abandoned.
There was going to be hell to pay, the minute he found his errant brother.
He set off down the hall with as determined a stride as he could manage in his fuzzy slippers (which was more like a slow shuffle). The house was quiet and dark, and doubt began to well up in Bill.
Tom wouldn’t really go somewhere without him, would he?
Bill let out a relieved breath as he spotted lights at the end of the hall.
The kitchen was illuminated, ablaze in the dark of the night.
Something clattered loudly and Bill frowned, stepping forward hesitantly.
What was Tom up to?
“I’ve been thinking about you for days,” Tom’s voice floated out of the kitchen, the words uttered in a low, longing moan.
Bill’s eyes widened as he crept up to the doorway as silently as possible and slowly peered around the frame.
At first, he couldn’t see anything but the mess on the kitchen counter; pots and pans and bowls and plates, scattered everywhere.
And then he spotted Tom.
“TOM!” he bellowed, striding into the room. “How could you betray me this way?”
“Mrrph?” Tom asked, eyes wide.
“What are you doing?” Bill demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Nrphing?” Tom offered.
He was covered in powdered sugar.
“You’re sneaking off in the middle of the night for an illicit tryst with a waffle?” Bill squawked.
Tom hunched further over his plate, as if that could disguise the stack of perfectly formed Belgian waffles, beautifully dusted with powdered sugar.
“Sorry?” he offered, gulping down the food in his mouth.
“Tom, how could you?” Bill huffed indignantly.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Tom said, hanging his head. “They’re so good.”
“God, Tom,” Bill whined. “You have no self control.”
“Me?” Tom gasped, indignant. “It’s your diet that means I sneak off and meet my waffles in secret.”
Bill huffed. Was it his fault that the sight of Tom eating delicious waffles was too much for him? The second he saw his twin’s lips coated in sugary sweet goodness, he was a goner.
He’d wake up from a waffle coma hours later, and he wouldn’t be able to fasten his favourite pants. “This is the last time, Tom.”
Tom sighed, looking down at his plate. “Oh, waffles,” he whispered. “When will we finally be able to reveal our love?”
“When I don’t care how my ass looks in leopard leggings,” Bill shot back over his shoulder, headed back to bed.
Tom looked at the waffles. “He’ll be wearing those when he’s eighty,” he told them sadly.
~
Based on your lovely comment: Bill will never be done with him. He'll have to keep the waffle as his side piece.