peki
in
we3sisters
Fic: Summer Nights, Tokio Hotel RPF, twins gen, rated PG
♥Fluff Friday♥
I feel super rusty because I haven't written a word since January 1st, but lirren and beren_writes pimped the idea of a fluffy fic day and the opportunity was too good to pass up :) See here for what Fluff Friday is all about, and for more fics!
Title: Summer Nights
Fandom: Tokio Hotel RPF
Genre: twins gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Bill can't sleep, so Tom can't sleep either. It's going to be a long day.
Word count: ~1400
A/N: Another one of those scenes we only hear about on Caught on Camera (watch it here). Warning for extreme silliness :)
“Die, bloodsucker!”
If woken up in this fashion, anyone else might have been alarmed, but then, anyone else didn’t have a crazy twin called Bill. Tom opened his eyes just long enough to see his brother flail about the room in his underpants, swatting at the air with a rolled-up magazine, and buried his face in the pillow again with a weary sigh. “What are you doing?” he said into the crisp white cotton.
“Oh! You’re up! Great, now you can help me hunt mosquitoes.”
Tom groped the nightstand blindly, searching for his cell phone. He squinted at the display groggily. Six-thirty in the morning. “Mosquitoes? That’s what you wake me for?”
Bill stopped swatting for a moment to put his hands on his hips and glower. “I’m allergic!”
“I’m allergic to being woken up before noon.” Grumbling, Tom pulled up the blankets over his head and snuggled back into the soft cocoon of his bed. Now that he was awake, the sheets felt stifling and sweaty, not nearly as nice and comfy as before, but he wasn’t ready to get up yet. They had a long day ahead of them.
Something hit his head with a muffled ‘thunk’.
Tom bolted upright in bed, narrowly missing Bill’s hand, which was coming down hard to smack him again. Squawking in outrage, Tom caught his twin’s wrist, wrenched the magazine from his hand and brandished it like a weapon. Bill let out a very satisfying yelp at the first hard smack.
“Ah! Ow! Help! Gustav! Georg! David!” Bill screeched. “Mom!”
Tom dropped the magazine with a snort. “Now you’re overdoing it.”
“I just want to sleeeeep,” Bill whined.
“Yeah, me too!”
“Then help me kill them!” Bill begged. “Or they’ll bite and then my ear will fall off and then we’ll have to cancel the festival appearances and then--”
“You can sing with one ear,” Tom said ruthlessly.
Bill gasped. “Yes, but how stupid would I look?”
Tom gave his brother the once-over: messy hair, bony limbs, holey shorts. “You couldn’t look any stupider if you tried.”
Bill grabbed the magazine and whacked Tom over the head with it, then retreated to his bed in a huff and hid under the blankets. “I hate you.”
Tom laughed. “No you don’t.”
A minute passed in blissful quiet. Then, Bill resurfaced, pink-faced and pouting. “No, but on the scale of how much I like you? You’re at the bottom now.”
“And that’s still higher up than the rest of the world,” Tom said with complete confidence. He yawned. “I can live with that.”
He climbed into bed again and switched off the lamp on the nightstand with a click that was supposed to signal finality.
In the darkness, he heard Bill draw a deep, noisy breath. Bill didn’t understand finality, never had.
“Toooom…”
“How about I beat you unconscious instead?”
“Then they’ll still bite me and my ear will still fall off,” Bill complained. His voice became shrewd. “Remember how bad you felt last time I was in the hospital? You’ll feel so much worse if it’s your fault--”
Tom scowled at the ceiling. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Bill’s tone was lofty now with imminent triumph.
“Yes I do.” Tom switched on the lamp again. Immediately, a small swarm of mosquitoes buzzed around it. Tom grabbed the room service menu and smacked at the lamp, which rattled feebly, the tabletop, the wall, leaving very satisfying splatters on the pale yellow wallpaper. “There,” he said. “Sleep. Now.” He swatted once more at the lamp, which went out with a clatter, then lay down again and turned away from Bill.
“I’m your only brother,” Bill said crossly to Tom’s back. “Why do you want me to die of mosquito bites?”
Tom entertained vague fantasies of smothering his twin with a pillow if the mosquitoes didn’t get to him first. “I killed them, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you didn’t do it gladly.”
“It’s the middle of the night!” Tom exclaimed. “I’m not allergic to mosquito bites!”
Bill, of course, was always happy to go off on a tangent. “Why’s that, do you think?”
Tom groaned. “I don’t know.”
“You’d think--”
“No. No no no. I wouldn’t,” Tom cut him off before Bill could continue on to his latest theory on twin quirks. “Maybe it’s just all in your head.”
“It’s not in my head!” Bill said, appalled. “I almost lost my ear once, the doctors said so.”
Tom wouldn’t have put it past his brother to make one of his own ears fall off by sheer force of will and determination, just to prove a point. He rolled over to look at Bill, who had become a shapeless lump under his blankets that still somehow managed to look sulky. “You’re not going to lose your ear tonight.”
“How do you know that?” the lump said in a muffled voice.
Tom heaved a sigh. “You were fine last time.”
There was some commotion as the pile of blankets and pillows shifted, and then Bill’s eyes peeked out through a gap between the sheets. “But that doesn’t mean--”
“I promise you won’t lose your ear tonight.”
“You can’t promise that.” Bill’s voice wavered with indecision. “I’m hot,” he whined.
“So come out of there!”
“No. Turn on the A/C.”
“No. You’ll get hoarse and then we won’t be able to play the festivals.”
Bill let out a low, pitiful keening noise, as if all the evils of the world had befallen him in the shape of small, annoying insects.
Tom rubbed a hand over his tired face. “Oh god, stop.”
Of course, Bill did not, because Bill did nothing in half measure and when Bill suffered, it was like the world was going to end in the bright, all-consuming fire of a thousand suns, like a blinding supernova at the center of Tom’s personal universe. Perhaps that was why the mosquitoes were so drawn to him.
Tom sighed. Usually, nothing could upset his peaceful orbit around his errant star. It was catastrophes of Bill’s own making only that ever threw Tom, ridiculous as they could be; and try as he might, he could never be mad about it either, not when his one, instinctive desire was to fix things so the world could spin on as usual.
In one fluid motion, he rolled off the mattress, taking his pillow with him. It was only two steps to the other bed, and he pushed at the wailing lump under the sheets until there was room enough to lie down. “Okay,” he said, stretching out on top of the blankets. The satin uppers of the comforter were blissfully cool; a nice breeze streamed in through a gap between the curtains, along with the first grey morning light. The wailing had stopped: Bill had flung aside the blankets, hair a tangled, sweaty mop on his head, to blink at Tom in confusion.
“What now?” he asked.
“I’m closer to the window,” Tom said sagely. “Plus, I’m just more appetizing all around. If they get to choose, they’ll bite me before they bite you.”
Bill didn’t look entirely convinced, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?”
“Sure.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “You stink.”
“That’s the mosquito repellent.”
“Yeah, right!”
“It is!” Bill chewed on his bottom lip, seemingly weighing the odds of earloss against those of heatstroke for a few moments longer, then he began wrestling with the sheets. When he was satisfied that the mess he’d made of the bed would keep the maids plenty busy later, he rolled to his back so they lay side by side and pressed his shoulder against Tom’s. “Hey,” he said softly, “thanks.”
“Welcome,” Tom grouched. “Can we sleep now?”
“Okay.” Bill laughed quietly. “I really don’t hate you, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’re the best brother ever,” Bill said fondly.
“I know. Shut up,” Tom grumbled. He shifted and caught a whiff of his brother’s hair. “God, you really do stink. What is that?”
“Essential oil.” Bill twisted awkwardly, trying to smell his own hair.
Tom sighed. After a few lungfuls of the stuff, he found himself thankfully immune to the smell. “You’re such a girl,” he complained nonetheless, because after years of inhaling hairspray fumes he felt he had the right, and besides, even if he would’ve put up with just about anything for Bill, Bill really didn’t need further proof of Tom’s complete and utter loyalty, bad smell notwithstanding.
“We’re identical,” Bill pointed out. “So if I’m a girl, that makes you--”
“Shut up.” Tom reinforced the order with a sharp nudge of his elbow and at last, Bill fell mercifully silent. Tom closed his eyes against the golden, sunny glow that was beginning to seep through the curtains with the dawn. In the street below their open window, traffic began to ebb and flow with a distant hum. Footfalls echoed in the hall outside the suite. It was a new day.
Bill took a deep breath. “Tom?”
“Hmm?”
“I can’t sleep anymore.” The mattress dipped and shifted, and then Bill started bouncing up and down, up and down, until Tom blinked open his eyes to find his twin’s grinning face hovering above him. In spite of himself, he smiled.
“Hey,” Bill said cheerfully, “I’ve got some water balloons left. Let’s go wake up Gustav and Georg, too.”
I feel super rusty because I haven't written a word since January 1st, but lirren and beren_writes pimped the idea of a fluffy fic day and the opportunity was too good to pass up :) See here for what Fluff Friday is all about, and for more fics!
Title: Summer Nights
Fandom: Tokio Hotel RPF
Genre: twins gen
Rating: PG
Summary: Bill can't sleep, so Tom can't sleep either. It's going to be a long day.
Word count: ~1400
A/N: Another one of those scenes we only hear about on Caught on Camera (watch it here). Warning for extreme silliness :)
“Die, bloodsucker!”
If woken up in this fashion, anyone else might have been alarmed, but then, anyone else didn’t have a crazy twin called Bill. Tom opened his eyes just long enough to see his brother flail about the room in his underpants, swatting at the air with a rolled-up magazine, and buried his face in the pillow again with a weary sigh. “What are you doing?” he said into the crisp white cotton.
“Oh! You’re up! Great, now you can help me hunt mosquitoes.”
Tom groped the nightstand blindly, searching for his cell phone. He squinted at the display groggily. Six-thirty in the morning. “Mosquitoes? That’s what you wake me for?”
Bill stopped swatting for a moment to put his hands on his hips and glower. “I’m allergic!”
“I’m allergic to being woken up before noon.” Grumbling, Tom pulled up the blankets over his head and snuggled back into the soft cocoon of his bed. Now that he was awake, the sheets felt stifling and sweaty, not nearly as nice and comfy as before, but he wasn’t ready to get up yet. They had a long day ahead of them.
Something hit his head with a muffled ‘thunk’.
Tom bolted upright in bed, narrowly missing Bill’s hand, which was coming down hard to smack him again. Squawking in outrage, Tom caught his twin’s wrist, wrenched the magazine from his hand and brandished it like a weapon. Bill let out a very satisfying yelp at the first hard smack.
“Ah! Ow! Help! Gustav! Georg! David!” Bill screeched. “Mom!”
Tom dropped the magazine with a snort. “Now you’re overdoing it.”
“I just want to sleeeeep,” Bill whined.
“Yeah, me too!”
“Then help me kill them!” Bill begged. “Or they’ll bite and then my ear will fall off and then we’ll have to cancel the festival appearances and then--”
“You can sing with one ear,” Tom said ruthlessly.
Bill gasped. “Yes, but how stupid would I look?”
Tom gave his brother the once-over: messy hair, bony limbs, holey shorts. “You couldn’t look any stupider if you tried.”
Bill grabbed the magazine and whacked Tom over the head with it, then retreated to his bed in a huff and hid under the blankets. “I hate you.”
Tom laughed. “No you don’t.”
A minute passed in blissful quiet. Then, Bill resurfaced, pink-faced and pouting. “No, but on the scale of how much I like you? You’re at the bottom now.”
“And that’s still higher up than the rest of the world,” Tom said with complete confidence. He yawned. “I can live with that.”
He climbed into bed again and switched off the lamp on the nightstand with a click that was supposed to signal finality.
In the darkness, he heard Bill draw a deep, noisy breath. Bill didn’t understand finality, never had.
“Toooom…”
“How about I beat you unconscious instead?”
“Then they’ll still bite me and my ear will still fall off,” Bill complained. His voice became shrewd. “Remember how bad you felt last time I was in the hospital? You’ll feel so much worse if it’s your fault--”
Tom scowled at the ceiling. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Bill’s tone was lofty now with imminent triumph.
“Yes I do.” Tom switched on the lamp again. Immediately, a small swarm of mosquitoes buzzed around it. Tom grabbed the room service menu and smacked at the lamp, which rattled feebly, the tabletop, the wall, leaving very satisfying splatters on the pale yellow wallpaper. “There,” he said. “Sleep. Now.” He swatted once more at the lamp, which went out with a clatter, then lay down again and turned away from Bill.
“I’m your only brother,” Bill said crossly to Tom’s back. “Why do you want me to die of mosquito bites?”
Tom entertained vague fantasies of smothering his twin with a pillow if the mosquitoes didn’t get to him first. “I killed them, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you didn’t do it gladly.”
“It’s the middle of the night!” Tom exclaimed. “I’m not allergic to mosquito bites!”
Bill, of course, was always happy to go off on a tangent. “Why’s that, do you think?”
Tom groaned. “I don’t know.”
“You’d think--”
“No. No no no. I wouldn’t,” Tom cut him off before Bill could continue on to his latest theory on twin quirks. “Maybe it’s just all in your head.”
“It’s not in my head!” Bill said, appalled. “I almost lost my ear once, the doctors said so.”
Tom wouldn’t have put it past his brother to make one of his own ears fall off by sheer force of will and determination, just to prove a point. He rolled over to look at Bill, who had become a shapeless lump under his blankets that still somehow managed to look sulky. “You’re not going to lose your ear tonight.”
“How do you know that?” the lump said in a muffled voice.
Tom heaved a sigh. “You were fine last time.”
There was some commotion as the pile of blankets and pillows shifted, and then Bill’s eyes peeked out through a gap between the sheets. “But that doesn’t mean--”
“I promise you won’t lose your ear tonight.”
“You can’t promise that.” Bill’s voice wavered with indecision. “I’m hot,” he whined.
“So come out of there!”
“No. Turn on the A/C.”
“No. You’ll get hoarse and then we won’t be able to play the festivals.”
Bill let out a low, pitiful keening noise, as if all the evils of the world had befallen him in the shape of small, annoying insects.
Tom rubbed a hand over his tired face. “Oh god, stop.”
Of course, Bill did not, because Bill did nothing in half measure and when Bill suffered, it was like the world was going to end in the bright, all-consuming fire of a thousand suns, like a blinding supernova at the center of Tom’s personal universe. Perhaps that was why the mosquitoes were so drawn to him.
Tom sighed. Usually, nothing could upset his peaceful orbit around his errant star. It was catastrophes of Bill’s own making only that ever threw Tom, ridiculous as they could be; and try as he might, he could never be mad about it either, not when his one, instinctive desire was to fix things so the world could spin on as usual.
In one fluid motion, he rolled off the mattress, taking his pillow with him. It was only two steps to the other bed, and he pushed at the wailing lump under the sheets until there was room enough to lie down. “Okay,” he said, stretching out on top of the blankets. The satin uppers of the comforter were blissfully cool; a nice breeze streamed in through a gap between the curtains, along with the first grey morning light. The wailing had stopped: Bill had flung aside the blankets, hair a tangled, sweaty mop on his head, to blink at Tom in confusion.
“What now?” he asked.
“I’m closer to the window,” Tom said sagely. “Plus, I’m just more appetizing all around. If they get to choose, they’ll bite me before they bite you.”
Bill didn’t look entirely convinced, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?”
“Sure.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “You stink.”
“That’s the mosquito repellent.”
“Yeah, right!”
“It is!” Bill chewed on his bottom lip, seemingly weighing the odds of earloss against those of heatstroke for a few moments longer, then he began wrestling with the sheets. When he was satisfied that the mess he’d made of the bed would keep the maids plenty busy later, he rolled to his back so they lay side by side and pressed his shoulder against Tom’s. “Hey,” he said softly, “thanks.”
“Welcome,” Tom grouched. “Can we sleep now?”
“Okay.” Bill laughed quietly. “I really don’t hate you, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’re the best brother ever,” Bill said fondly.
“I know. Shut up,” Tom grumbled. He shifted and caught a whiff of his brother’s hair. “God, you really do stink. What is that?”
“Essential oil.” Bill twisted awkwardly, trying to smell his own hair.
Tom sighed. After a few lungfuls of the stuff, he found himself thankfully immune to the smell. “You’re such a girl,” he complained nonetheless, because after years of inhaling hairspray fumes he felt he had the right, and besides, even if he would’ve put up with just about anything for Bill, Bill really didn’t need further proof of Tom’s complete and utter loyalty, bad smell notwithstanding.
“We’re identical,” Bill pointed out. “So if I’m a girl, that makes you--”
“Shut up.” Tom reinforced the order with a sharp nudge of his elbow and at last, Bill fell mercifully silent. Tom closed his eyes against the golden, sunny glow that was beginning to seep through the curtains with the dawn. In the street below their open window, traffic began to ebb and flow with a distant hum. Footfalls echoed in the hall outside the suite. It was a new day.
Bill took a deep breath. “Tom?”
“Hmm?”
“I can’t sleep anymore.” The mattress dipped and shifted, and then Bill started bouncing up and down, up and down, until Tom blinked open his eyes to find his twin’s grinning face hovering above him. In spite of himself, he smiled.
“Hey,” Bill said cheerfully, “I’ve got some water balloons left. Let’s go wake up Gustav and Georg, too.”