Nothing Fails, no pairing, PG-13, 6/?
Title: Nothing Fails
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Summary: Anis and his adopted son Tom live a quiet life after turbulent pasts, and are content with that. When Tom's old case worker begs them to give another misguided soul a chance, they give in - and soon realize they may have bitten off more than they could chew.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the support and interest guys! It means a ton <3
Warnings: Possibly triggering? Nothing outright stated, but implied. Also, bad German because all I ever learned I got from Tokio Hotel and my grandparents whilst simultaneously taking a shoe to the face, so.
Life flowed into a comfortable harmony, in Bill's new home; much to Tom and Bushido's satisfaction and mild surprise. Bill worked hard to integrate, and generally kept to himself, out of the way. Bushido's only complaint, was that aside from his first hectic, dramatic night with them they were no closer to getting to know Bill, and sometimes he thought that maybe that was because even Bill didn't know Bill. He was mild-mannered and eager to please to the point that he barely had a personality; whatever was asked, he would tailor his reply to the asker, or else outright ask what the answer should be. Times like those, Bushido guiltily understood why so many families had lost patience with the boy.
But aside from that, Bill was the perfect son, an attractive, attentive boy with a winning and ready smile, eager to help and reluctant to cause any fuss at all. He took to his chores with gusto, taking on more of the responsibilities around the house with compulsive attention to detail so that their home resembled more a model, than a lived-in space. He kept himself and his room neat and clean by Spartan standards - Bill's room was still bare of everything but the essentials, the bed always made. Neither Bushido nor Tom really knew what he got up to when they were busy, but Bill never failed to be in good spirits, coming when called.
Neither did he quarrel with the older Tom, the way foster siblings might; Bill having been in the system so long, and Tom with his turbulent upbringing. Instead, what blossomed was a sort of ill-disguised hero worship on Bill's part. He paid attention to the things Tom did, and how he did them, and tried his best to emulate him. When Tom dispensed advice or criticism, Bill received it with absolute faith and acted upon it. Tom didn't seem to take any notice when Bill would ghost him around the house, taking him with him on errands or enlisting his help for a project but otherwise leaving Bill to his own devices.
Tom endured Bill's close company when they went shopping for his school things, the younger boy trailing after Tom as they wandered down the aisles with Bushido watching on with fond amusement, half anticipating Bill grabbing the hem of Tom's oversized sweatshirt.
For all that Bill appeared meticulously groomed and well-dressed, he spent surprisingly little on his appearance, buying the minimum as far as clothes went, and only conceeding embarrassedly when Bushido goaded him into stocking up on cosmetic supplies. Tom did appear mildly surprised at Bill picking up some razors and aftershave - despite knowing full well that Bill was a boy, more of a young man at his age, there was little evidence to that end. Bill had even shopped in the girl's section of the store, when he thought Tom and Bushido weren't looking. Then again, considering how slight Bill was, it was reasonable to assume he was just looking for smaller sizes.
Monday morning saw Bill climbing into Bushido's car, messenger bag filled with books and pens in his lap, his make-up toned-down and his hair straightened, his clothes simple and heels low - he didn't want to make an impression his first day, he wanted to blend.
"You look good," Bushido reassured. "You got your phone?"
Bill grinned at the compliment, and showed Bushido the little flip-phone they'd gotten for him and Tom had taught him to use. Bill was still getting used to taking it with him. "Tom put both your numbers in, and the house phone. He told me to keep it on vibrate, though, so I won't get in trouble."
Bushido nodded and backed out of their drive-way, pulling out onto the street. "Wise advice, he learned the hard way. Did you bring the apples?"
Bill hefted the paper sack in his lap, full of apples for his teachers (his own idea, which Tom had teased him for and Bill had bore it happily). "Yes, I didn't forget. Thank you again for driving me to school, I could have walked or taken a bus."
"Not on your first day," Bushido scoffed. "Wouldn't miss it." He gave Bill a grin, and he returned it in kind.
They pulled up outside the school, into a queue of cars dropping off children. "You gonna be all right?" Bushido asked, nervous in a way he had never been for Tom - overprotective.
Bill considered the question, then thought next about the night before.
Tom came over to flop onto the couch behind Bill, who was crouched over the coffee table, wiping it down. "You nervous?" he asked absently, biting into the apple Bill had gotten for him.
Bill looked over his shoulder at Tom. "About what?"
"About school, what else?"
Bill turned back to his work as he replied. "I don't know... I suppose so. I usually earn good marks, and the teachers usually like me well enough..." Bill petered off, his motions over the table slacking as he considered it.
"So?" Tom goaded around a bite.
"Well I suppose I'm nervous I won't get along well with my classmates... that I won't... I won't make any friends," Bill confessed, hot-cheeked and with some difficulty. "That other people won't like me."
"Why would you want to make friends with people that don't like you? Lame. Any kid worth being a friend will see how cool you are." Tom scoffed, and the couch creaked as Tom rose. "Night, kiddo." He ruffled Bill's loose hair in passing, not catching the look of adoration and glee on the boy's face.
Bill raised his eyes to Bushido, and smiled. "I'll be fine," he said with quiet certainty.
"Call me when you get out, and I'll come to pick you up. Understood?" Bushido got a nod in response. "Okay, c'mere." He motioned for Bill to lean in, and looped an arm around his back. "Good luck today, kiddo." He got another nod against his shoulder and an answering squeeze, and pulled back with a soft smile.
"Drive safely," Bill farewelled, unbuckling and exiting the car.
"Have a good day and try to learn something," Bushido returned out the passenger side window, reluctant to leave. Bill just waved, watching Bushido pull out of the school, Bushido watching the slim figure disappear in his rearview mirror.
@
Bill had a wide and varied experience with schooling. He'd attended public schools, and even private schools; he'd had tutors and homeschooling. Sometimes he'd make friends, and sometimes the time and climate just weren't right, and when he was taught at home, he had no chance at all. He was familiar with the introductions, the schedules and the lockers, and of course, the teasing and conjecture. Very little of attending a new school was new at all, really.
Bill learned quickly to ingratiate himself with teachers and students that were receptive; he was helpful, he was alert, and he was cooperative, and most of all, on his first day, he always gave his teachers an apple. It was an antiquated practise, but endearing and appreciated. For the sake of how the other students would perceive him, Bill rarely raised his hand or volunteered - it wouldn't do to be a teacher's pet - but if called upon he would comply, and if a student asked for help, he would always oblige with a smile.
Little about his day varied from his past experiences. He was tripped once or twice on his way to his seat, was called a few of the old familiar labels of "fag", "homo", and girly nicknames, but none of this was unusual and he took it all in stride - readily, in fact. It was nothing new, and really when you took it all in stride and accepted it, it was much easier to deal with than if you questioned it, and let it hurt you. What did stand out, however, was the unusual number of sweet and helpful girls, and one or two quiet boys, who made friendly overtures. Bill usually got on quite well with girls, sympathized more with them than boys, but today he dared hope that maybe, he might make some friends here.
His second pleasant surprise was in his schedule. One of the requirements had been a second language course, wherever he went; he'd dabbled in Spanish and French for the most part, and expected nothing different here. But on his schedule, his next to last period for the day was German. He entered the class, confident there had been a mix-up, approaching the desk at the front of the room, behind which sat a well-built blonde man.
"Entschuldigen Sie die Störung," Bill said shyly, and the teacher looked up at him, owl-like, from behind his glasses. "Ich glaube ich habe die falsche Klasse..." Bill handed over his class schedule, and the teacher took it from him absently, his eyes lingering on Bill.
"Dein Deutsch ist sehr gut," the teacher opined, looking down his nose at the schedule, reading it over.
"Danke," Bill demurred.
"Ah, das wäre warum!" The teacher replied, sitting up straighter. He took off his glasses, and handed back Bill's schedule. "You're Bill Kaulitz. You're going to be my native speaker for the semester," he explained in English with a smile. "You'll be a sort of teaching assistant, so you'll get dual credit for this class. Normally, we make arrangements like this for students whose English would also benefit, but as I understand your English is fine?"
Bill nodded his head dumbly, surprised. "I... yes, I have very good English. Not that... I didn't mean to brag," he hurried to explain, but the teacher just chuckled and waved it off.
Standing, he offered his hand to Bill. "I'm Mr. Kent, and I think this will be the start of something really great, Bill." He grinned as Bill nodded, and smiled widely in return.
They hit it off well, and and spent the majority of the class talking back and forth, and Bill felt his most at home there, with Mr. Kent. He really didn't want to leave when the bell rang, but Mr. Kent promised he'd see him tomorrow, holding his apple core aloft in farewell and earning a laugh from his young student.
The day wound down to the last bell, and Bill meandered out of the school to the front lawn, getting out his phone and calling Bushido as he'd promised.
"Hello?" Bushido sounded distracted and gruff; Bill shrank internally.
"Um, it's Bill, you wanted me to call after school let out?"
"Oh shit. Bill," Bushido sounded apologetic. "I'm still stuck in the studio. Look, it's... 3:30? Do you think you could wait for a while so Tom can pick you up? He gets out around 4."
"I could always walk," Bill offered.
"No, no, I'm not comfortable with you doing that, even with your phone. I'm sorry kiddo, but please wait for Tom, alright?"
Bill nodded, before realizing Bushido couldn't see it. "Yes, of course, I'll call him at 4. Good luck at the studio, and be careful driving home."
Bushido's smile was evident in his voice. "Thanks, kiddo. You'll have to tell me all about your day when I get home, I promise I'll be back in time at least for dinner."
They said their goodbyes, and Bill pocketted his phone, going to take a prim seat on the steps, staring out at the cars that came to pick up his classmates, letting his mind wander.
"Hi, it's Bill, right?"
Bill glanced up from his seat, and seeing that the speaker was female he scrambled to his feet. "Um, hi, I mean, hello. Natalie, right? From Algebra?"
She looked pleasantly surprised, smiling widely. "Yeah, exactly! You waiting for your ride?"
Bill nodded, taking a seat as she did, sliding his hands down the seat of his pants. "Yeah. What about you?"
Natalie shrugged, stretching out her legs. "I usually walk, but I figured I'd keep you company." She smiled at him, and it was so winsome that Bill couldn't help but return it. "I love your nails, by the way," she said, lifting her chin at his hands.
"Really?" Bill asked, admiring the black nails and their white tips, albeit shyly. "I thought it was better than just black."
"Really," Natalie reassured, taking one of his hands in hers to coo over it. "I never would have thought of it, it's super unique. You have such nice nails."
"Oh thank you. If you like, I could do yours, too," he offered tentatively.
"Would you?" Natalie enthused. "I have such a bitch of a time doing my own, you know, and my Mom's not really the sort to sit down and do my nails... I don't have any sisters, either. You can be my sister," she offered, grinning.
Bill flushed, and Natalie's smile dimmed. "Oh, not that you're like, a girl or anything - I didn't mean it like... I know you're a boy Bill, you have to be blind not to see that-"
Bill shook his head. "It's fine, I know what you meant. I would like that, very much." After a beat, he inched a little closer. "This is actually sort of toned down for me," Bill confessed. "I usually wear a lot more... well, everything. I can do hair, and make-up too. I used to do it for my sister, too, sometimes."
Natalie's jaw dropped. "No way!" She squealed. "Really? It looks so good on you! You have to come to school tomorrow with the whole shebang, the whole nine-yards, head to toe!"
They talked it over as the school emptied, until it was just them and a few scragglers. 4 o'clock came, and Bill begged pardon so he could call Tom, facing a little away from Natalie.
"Bill?" Tom answered. "What's up, everything okay?"
Warmth rushed through Bill's chest at Tom's concern, however off-handed. "I'm okay. Um, Bushido couldn't make it to pick me up after school, and he wanted me to call you after you got out and see if you could pick me up...?"
"Sure," Tom replied easily. "Meet you out front in ten."
Bill acknowledged him and hung up, turning back to a grinning Natalie. "Who was that?" She asked.
"My ride," Bill answered breezily, unsure of what else to call Tom; it seemed a little soon to call Tom his brother, no matter how badly he wanted it. "So what color did you want to try tomorrow? I have a few polishes, but if you want something wild..."
They continued to chat and talk beauty until a horn blared twice from the drive, both of them looking up. Bill smiled widely, spying the enormous black Escalade. He gathered his things as Natalie gawked. "That's your ride?" She stuttered.
Bill nodded. "I guess this is goodbye."
Natalie stood with a smile, and patted down the seat of her skirt. "It was awesome talking with you, though. See you tomorrow." She opened her arms for a hug, and Bill returned it awkwardly. Natalie drew back first, waving goodbye as she skipped down the steps and across the lawn, in the opposite direction, and Bill headed down to the Escalade.
"Looks like you made a friend," Tom noted as Bill climbed in, one wrist on the wheel. "Have a good day?"
"Yes," Bill agreed, buckling up as Tom changed gears. "Everyone was really nice, and the teachers were great, they really loved the apples. The classes are great too, did you know they gave me German? That was really awesome," Bill gushed.
"See, you were nervous for nothing, what did I tell you?" Tom said as he pulled onto the road. "She was pretty cute, your friend."
Bill nodded enthusiastically. "Natalie, yes, she's so pretty, and really nice."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "She your type? Blonde, 80's style?"
Bill's mouth pinched. "I don't think I have a type, really. I just like nice people."
Tom smirked. "I meant your taste in girls, not taste in friends."
"You mean like a girlfriend?" Bill asked. "I don't know, actually. I've never really dated before."
Tom's eyebrows rose. "Like... never? Never ever? With anyone? Not even a little schoolyard romance in kindergarten?"
"Well, I mean, no one ever really asked," Bill explained, flustered. "And I've never really wanted to date anyone... and with all the moving..." He petered off, darting a glance at Tom. "What's your type?"
Tom shrugged. "Pretty, fun. Doesn't matter, I don't really have a type - I like to keep myself open."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Bill asked shyly.
"What, right now? Nah," Tom admitted absently. "We broke it off about a month ago, but it wasn't serious. Not really in the market right now, either. Just want to have a little fun."
Bill didn't say anything to that either way, and Tom wasn't sure what to make of the silence; Bill was strange, you couldn't anticipate him or his responses to ordinary things. In fact, all Tom knew about Bill was what he'd learned after moving in - and that wasn't much. He was a homebody, and polite; he liked chores and practically thrived on approval. He ironed his hair and wore make-up even just around the house, and had impeccable fashion sense. Most of the time Tom thought, as Bushido did, that there was no one there to get to know - that any personality there was to be found, had not yet been found. It was like sharing his home with a robot or a maid - whatever ideas he'd had about Bill's intentions were constantly in doubt, now.
But little though there was to know, Tom thought as he drove Bill home, that he liked what little he did.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Summary: Anis and his adopted son Tom live a quiet life after turbulent pasts, and are content with that. When Tom's old case worker begs them to give another misguided soul a chance, they give in - and soon realize they may have bitten off more than they could chew.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the support and interest guys! It means a ton <3
Warnings: Possibly triggering? Nothing outright stated, but implied. Also, bad German because all I ever learned I got from Tokio Hotel and my grandparents whilst simultaneously taking a shoe to the face, so.
Life flowed into a comfortable harmony, in Bill's new home; much to Tom and Bushido's satisfaction and mild surprise. Bill worked hard to integrate, and generally kept to himself, out of the way. Bushido's only complaint, was that aside from his first hectic, dramatic night with them they were no closer to getting to know Bill, and sometimes he thought that maybe that was because even Bill didn't know Bill. He was mild-mannered and eager to please to the point that he barely had a personality; whatever was asked, he would tailor his reply to the asker, or else outright ask what the answer should be. Times like those, Bushido guiltily understood why so many families had lost patience with the boy.
But aside from that, Bill was the perfect son, an attractive, attentive boy with a winning and ready smile, eager to help and reluctant to cause any fuss at all. He took to his chores with gusto, taking on more of the responsibilities around the house with compulsive attention to detail so that their home resembled more a model, than a lived-in space. He kept himself and his room neat and clean by Spartan standards - Bill's room was still bare of everything but the essentials, the bed always made. Neither Bushido nor Tom really knew what he got up to when they were busy, but Bill never failed to be in good spirits, coming when called.
Neither did he quarrel with the older Tom, the way foster siblings might; Bill having been in the system so long, and Tom with his turbulent upbringing. Instead, what blossomed was a sort of ill-disguised hero worship on Bill's part. He paid attention to the things Tom did, and how he did them, and tried his best to emulate him. When Tom dispensed advice or criticism, Bill received it with absolute faith and acted upon it. Tom didn't seem to take any notice when Bill would ghost him around the house, taking him with him on errands or enlisting his help for a project but otherwise leaving Bill to his own devices.
Tom endured Bill's close company when they went shopping for his school things, the younger boy trailing after Tom as they wandered down the aisles with Bushido watching on with fond amusement, half anticipating Bill grabbing the hem of Tom's oversized sweatshirt.
For all that Bill appeared meticulously groomed and well-dressed, he spent surprisingly little on his appearance, buying the minimum as far as clothes went, and only conceeding embarrassedly when Bushido goaded him into stocking up on cosmetic supplies. Tom did appear mildly surprised at Bill picking up some razors and aftershave - despite knowing full well that Bill was a boy, more of a young man at his age, there was little evidence to that end. Bill had even shopped in the girl's section of the store, when he thought Tom and Bushido weren't looking. Then again, considering how slight Bill was, it was reasonable to assume he was just looking for smaller sizes.
Monday morning saw Bill climbing into Bushido's car, messenger bag filled with books and pens in his lap, his make-up toned-down and his hair straightened, his clothes simple and heels low - he didn't want to make an impression his first day, he wanted to blend.
"You look good," Bushido reassured. "You got your phone?"
Bill grinned at the compliment, and showed Bushido the little flip-phone they'd gotten for him and Tom had taught him to use. Bill was still getting used to taking it with him. "Tom put both your numbers in, and the house phone. He told me to keep it on vibrate, though, so I won't get in trouble."
Bushido nodded and backed out of their drive-way, pulling out onto the street. "Wise advice, he learned the hard way. Did you bring the apples?"
Bill hefted the paper sack in his lap, full of apples for his teachers (his own idea, which Tom had teased him for and Bill had bore it happily). "Yes, I didn't forget. Thank you again for driving me to school, I could have walked or taken a bus."
"Not on your first day," Bushido scoffed. "Wouldn't miss it." He gave Bill a grin, and he returned it in kind.
They pulled up outside the school, into a queue of cars dropping off children. "You gonna be all right?" Bushido asked, nervous in a way he had never been for Tom - overprotective.
Bill considered the question, then thought next about the night before.
Tom came over to flop onto the couch behind Bill, who was crouched over the coffee table, wiping it down. "You nervous?" he asked absently, biting into the apple Bill had gotten for him.
Bill looked over his shoulder at Tom. "About what?"
"About school, what else?"
Bill turned back to his work as he replied. "I don't know... I suppose so. I usually earn good marks, and the teachers usually like me well enough..." Bill petered off, his motions over the table slacking as he considered it.
"So?" Tom goaded around a bite.
"Well I suppose I'm nervous I won't get along well with my classmates... that I won't... I won't make any friends," Bill confessed, hot-cheeked and with some difficulty. "That other people won't like me."
"Why would you want to make friends with people that don't like you? Lame. Any kid worth being a friend will see how cool you are." Tom scoffed, and the couch creaked as Tom rose. "Night, kiddo." He ruffled Bill's loose hair in passing, not catching the look of adoration and glee on the boy's face.
Bill raised his eyes to Bushido, and smiled. "I'll be fine," he said with quiet certainty.
"Call me when you get out, and I'll come to pick you up. Understood?" Bushido got a nod in response. "Okay, c'mere." He motioned for Bill to lean in, and looped an arm around his back. "Good luck today, kiddo." He got another nod against his shoulder and an answering squeeze, and pulled back with a soft smile.
"Drive safely," Bill farewelled, unbuckling and exiting the car.
"Have a good day and try to learn something," Bushido returned out the passenger side window, reluctant to leave. Bill just waved, watching Bushido pull out of the school, Bushido watching the slim figure disappear in his rearview mirror.
@
Bill had a wide and varied experience with schooling. He'd attended public schools, and even private schools; he'd had tutors and homeschooling. Sometimes he'd make friends, and sometimes the time and climate just weren't right, and when he was taught at home, he had no chance at all. He was familiar with the introductions, the schedules and the lockers, and of course, the teasing and conjecture. Very little of attending a new school was new at all, really.
Bill learned quickly to ingratiate himself with teachers and students that were receptive; he was helpful, he was alert, and he was cooperative, and most of all, on his first day, he always gave his teachers an apple. It was an antiquated practise, but endearing and appreciated. For the sake of how the other students would perceive him, Bill rarely raised his hand or volunteered - it wouldn't do to be a teacher's pet - but if called upon he would comply, and if a student asked for help, he would always oblige with a smile.
Little about his day varied from his past experiences. He was tripped once or twice on his way to his seat, was called a few of the old familiar labels of "fag", "homo", and girly nicknames, but none of this was unusual and he took it all in stride - readily, in fact. It was nothing new, and really when you took it all in stride and accepted it, it was much easier to deal with than if you questioned it, and let it hurt you. What did stand out, however, was the unusual number of sweet and helpful girls, and one or two quiet boys, who made friendly overtures. Bill usually got on quite well with girls, sympathized more with them than boys, but today he dared hope that maybe, he might make some friends here.
His second pleasant surprise was in his schedule. One of the requirements had been a second language course, wherever he went; he'd dabbled in Spanish and French for the most part, and expected nothing different here. But on his schedule, his next to last period for the day was German. He entered the class, confident there had been a mix-up, approaching the desk at the front of the room, behind which sat a well-built blonde man.
"Entschuldigen Sie die Störung," Bill said shyly, and the teacher looked up at him, owl-like, from behind his glasses. "Ich glaube ich habe die falsche Klasse..." Bill handed over his class schedule, and the teacher took it from him absently, his eyes lingering on Bill.
"Dein Deutsch ist sehr gut," the teacher opined, looking down his nose at the schedule, reading it over.
"Danke," Bill demurred.
"Ah, das wäre warum!" The teacher replied, sitting up straighter. He took off his glasses, and handed back Bill's schedule. "You're Bill Kaulitz. You're going to be my native speaker for the semester," he explained in English with a smile. "You'll be a sort of teaching assistant, so you'll get dual credit for this class. Normally, we make arrangements like this for students whose English would also benefit, but as I understand your English is fine?"
Bill nodded his head dumbly, surprised. "I... yes, I have very good English. Not that... I didn't mean to brag," he hurried to explain, but the teacher just chuckled and waved it off.
Standing, he offered his hand to Bill. "I'm Mr. Kent, and I think this will be the start of something really great, Bill." He grinned as Bill nodded, and smiled widely in return.
They hit it off well, and and spent the majority of the class talking back and forth, and Bill felt his most at home there, with Mr. Kent. He really didn't want to leave when the bell rang, but Mr. Kent promised he'd see him tomorrow, holding his apple core aloft in farewell and earning a laugh from his young student.
The day wound down to the last bell, and Bill meandered out of the school to the front lawn, getting out his phone and calling Bushido as he'd promised.
"Hello?" Bushido sounded distracted and gruff; Bill shrank internally.
"Um, it's Bill, you wanted me to call after school let out?"
"Oh shit. Bill," Bushido sounded apologetic. "I'm still stuck in the studio. Look, it's... 3:30? Do you think you could wait for a while so Tom can pick you up? He gets out around 4."
"I could always walk," Bill offered.
"No, no, I'm not comfortable with you doing that, even with your phone. I'm sorry kiddo, but please wait for Tom, alright?"
Bill nodded, before realizing Bushido couldn't see it. "Yes, of course, I'll call him at 4. Good luck at the studio, and be careful driving home."
Bushido's smile was evident in his voice. "Thanks, kiddo. You'll have to tell me all about your day when I get home, I promise I'll be back in time at least for dinner."
They said their goodbyes, and Bill pocketted his phone, going to take a prim seat on the steps, staring out at the cars that came to pick up his classmates, letting his mind wander.
"Hi, it's Bill, right?"
Bill glanced up from his seat, and seeing that the speaker was female he scrambled to his feet. "Um, hi, I mean, hello. Natalie, right? From Algebra?"
She looked pleasantly surprised, smiling widely. "Yeah, exactly! You waiting for your ride?"
Bill nodded, taking a seat as she did, sliding his hands down the seat of his pants. "Yeah. What about you?"
Natalie shrugged, stretching out her legs. "I usually walk, but I figured I'd keep you company." She smiled at him, and it was so winsome that Bill couldn't help but return it. "I love your nails, by the way," she said, lifting her chin at his hands.
"Really?" Bill asked, admiring the black nails and their white tips, albeit shyly. "I thought it was better than just black."
"Really," Natalie reassured, taking one of his hands in hers to coo over it. "I never would have thought of it, it's super unique. You have such nice nails."
"Oh thank you. If you like, I could do yours, too," he offered tentatively.
"Would you?" Natalie enthused. "I have such a bitch of a time doing my own, you know, and my Mom's not really the sort to sit down and do my nails... I don't have any sisters, either. You can be my sister," she offered, grinning.
Bill flushed, and Natalie's smile dimmed. "Oh, not that you're like, a girl or anything - I didn't mean it like... I know you're a boy Bill, you have to be blind not to see that-"
Bill shook his head. "It's fine, I know what you meant. I would like that, very much." After a beat, he inched a little closer. "This is actually sort of toned down for me," Bill confessed. "I usually wear a lot more... well, everything. I can do hair, and make-up too. I used to do it for my sister, too, sometimes."
Natalie's jaw dropped. "No way!" She squealed. "Really? It looks so good on you! You have to come to school tomorrow with the whole shebang, the whole nine-yards, head to toe!"
They talked it over as the school emptied, until it was just them and a few scragglers. 4 o'clock came, and Bill begged pardon so he could call Tom, facing a little away from Natalie.
"Bill?" Tom answered. "What's up, everything okay?"
Warmth rushed through Bill's chest at Tom's concern, however off-handed. "I'm okay. Um, Bushido couldn't make it to pick me up after school, and he wanted me to call you after you got out and see if you could pick me up...?"
"Sure," Tom replied easily. "Meet you out front in ten."
Bill acknowledged him and hung up, turning back to a grinning Natalie. "Who was that?" She asked.
"My ride," Bill answered breezily, unsure of what else to call Tom; it seemed a little soon to call Tom his brother, no matter how badly he wanted it. "So what color did you want to try tomorrow? I have a few polishes, but if you want something wild..."
They continued to chat and talk beauty until a horn blared twice from the drive, both of them looking up. Bill smiled widely, spying the enormous black Escalade. He gathered his things as Natalie gawked. "That's your ride?" She stuttered.
Bill nodded. "I guess this is goodbye."
Natalie stood with a smile, and patted down the seat of her skirt. "It was awesome talking with you, though. See you tomorrow." She opened her arms for a hug, and Bill returned it awkwardly. Natalie drew back first, waving goodbye as she skipped down the steps and across the lawn, in the opposite direction, and Bill headed down to the Escalade.
"Looks like you made a friend," Tom noted as Bill climbed in, one wrist on the wheel. "Have a good day?"
"Yes," Bill agreed, buckling up as Tom changed gears. "Everyone was really nice, and the teachers were great, they really loved the apples. The classes are great too, did you know they gave me German? That was really awesome," Bill gushed.
"See, you were nervous for nothing, what did I tell you?" Tom said as he pulled onto the road. "She was pretty cute, your friend."
Bill nodded enthusiastically. "Natalie, yes, she's so pretty, and really nice."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "She your type? Blonde, 80's style?"
Bill's mouth pinched. "I don't think I have a type, really. I just like nice people."
Tom smirked. "I meant your taste in girls, not taste in friends."
"You mean like a girlfriend?" Bill asked. "I don't know, actually. I've never really dated before."
Tom's eyebrows rose. "Like... never? Never ever? With anyone? Not even a little schoolyard romance in kindergarten?"
"Well, I mean, no one ever really asked," Bill explained, flustered. "And I've never really wanted to date anyone... and with all the moving..." He petered off, darting a glance at Tom. "What's your type?"
Tom shrugged. "Pretty, fun. Doesn't matter, I don't really have a type - I like to keep myself open."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Bill asked shyly.
"What, right now? Nah," Tom admitted absently. "We broke it off about a month ago, but it wasn't serious. Not really in the market right now, either. Just want to have a little fun."
Bill didn't say anything to that either way, and Tom wasn't sure what to make of the silence; Bill was strange, you couldn't anticipate him or his responses to ordinary things. In fact, all Tom knew about Bill was what he'd learned after moving in - and that wasn't much. He was a homebody, and polite; he liked chores and practically thrived on approval. He ironed his hair and wore make-up even just around the house, and had impeccable fashion sense. Most of the time Tom thought, as Bushido did, that there was no one there to get to know - that any personality there was to be found, had not yet been found. It was like sharing his home with a robot or a maid - whatever ideas he'd had about Bill's intentions were constantly in doubt, now.
But little though there was to know, Tom thought as he drove Bill home, that he liked what little he did.