(no subject)
[i don't own TH]
Waking up on a bus usually pleases Georg. Like he wasn’t just sleeping, he was traveling too; like multi-tasking.
Breakfast on a bus is less fun. There’s less space for moving around, less space for preparation, less variety because it all has to fit in a tiny fridge for four. Also, you have to watch out for sudden turns or stops.
Bill is already at the table when Georg sits down. He grunts at the other boy who blinks blearily and waves. At the sight of his own name scrawled across Bill’s palm, Georg remembers and laughs.
“Next time we play poker, you should just bring cash and keep your bodyparts,” he teases.
Bill smiles and flips Georg off gracefully, Tom’s name written boldly on the digit. Georg can’t remember Tom winning either of Bill’s middle fingers, though.
In fact, now that he looks more closely, Tom’s representation on Bill’s body seems to have increased since last night. He can make out the faded name in the crook of Bill’s elbow, down one side of his neck, and on most of Bill’s unadorned fingers.
“How many more hands did you guys play after Gustav and I went to bed?”
Bill looks up and when he notices Georg’s scrutiny he grabs a jacket - Tom’s - from the seat next to him and effectively buries himself in it.
“Just a few,” Bill lies, and obviously so because his exposed ears are turning a bit pink.
Georg watches Bill ditch his breakfast in favor of the bathroom and wonders briefly where else Tom’s name might have ended up last night. And then stops himself because inappropriate visuals are a bit much for this early in the day.
He tries to watch the scenery but after three minutes of the same view, Georg decides to go back to sleep so he can wake up somewhere new.
Waking up on a bus usually pleases Georg. Like he wasn’t just sleeping, he was traveling too; like multi-tasking.
Breakfast on a bus is less fun. There’s less space for moving around, less space for preparation, less variety because it all has to fit in a tiny fridge for four. Also, you have to watch out for sudden turns or stops.
Bill is already at the table when Georg sits down. He grunts at the other boy who blinks blearily and waves. At the sight of his own name scrawled across Bill’s palm, Georg remembers and laughs.
“Next time we play poker, you should just bring cash and keep your bodyparts,” he teases.
Bill smiles and flips Georg off gracefully, Tom’s name written boldly on the digit. Georg can’t remember Tom winning either of Bill’s middle fingers, though.
In fact, now that he looks more closely, Tom’s representation on Bill’s body seems to have increased since last night. He can make out the faded name in the crook of Bill’s elbow, down one side of his neck, and on most of Bill’s unadorned fingers.
“How many more hands did you guys play after Gustav and I went to bed?”
Bill looks up and when he notices Georg’s scrutiny he grabs a jacket - Tom’s - from the seat next to him and effectively buries himself in it.
“Just a few,” Bill lies, and obviously so because his exposed ears are turning a bit pink.
Georg watches Bill ditch his breakfast in favor of the bathroom and wonders briefly where else Tom’s name might have ended up last night. And then stops himself because inappropriate visuals are a bit much for this early in the day.
He tries to watch the scenery but after three minutes of the same view, Georg decides to go back to sleep so he can wake up somewhere new.