Janni, NC17, Tom/Bill, 2/?

[steins_stories]

Title: Janni
Author: steinsgrrl
Fandom: Tokio Hotel
Pairing: Tom/Bill
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I in no way intend to insinuate that any of the below actually happened. It is simply a piece of written entertainment based on the public personas of real people.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Twincest-not related, Adult Concepts, Light Kink
Summary: When two men meet and fall in love, they expect there will be bumps in the road. When one of those men has a daughter, some bumps can seem more like mountains.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to ma_chelle for the beta. You are invaluable. Lovely banner by lynnchan.



The path through the trees was worn enough, the rocks pushed into the moist, tamped dirt enough that Bill didn’t have to worry about tripping if he didn’t watch his feet. He also didn’t have to worry then, when the sunlight broke through the branches and shimmering leaves above him, shining into his eyes and blinding him momentarily.

He hoisted the strap of his bag further up on his shoulder and slowed his pace to a stroll. Today was his day off, Max had the pub covered and there was no reason to hurry. He took a deep breath and felt the tension flow from his shoulders as the shade-cooled air filled his lungs.

Bill had only walked this path a few times, certainly not enough to remember all the little landmarks along the way. In his life before this, he hadn’t really had time to notice things like birds and wildlife, at least the non-human kind. He smiled as he watched a pair of squirrels chase each other and chatter loudly as if arguing vehemently, before the sound of children laughing and screaming playfully filtered into his conscience.

Curious, he followed the sound, speeding his steps down the trail. In another moment, the trees opened up and he found himself facing a lush, green field, in the middle of which was a playground. Children buzzed around the wooden climbing structure, running and chasing, jumping and squealing, and Bill stopped in his tracks, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling widely.

Several benches sat a short way from where the children played, and Bill approached one. The kids were a lot louder than the silence he usually sketched in, but their joy was contagious. Between the children playing nearby, the sun on his shoulders and the birds singing, Bill thought his bench would be the perfect place to brainstorm some new ideas for the summer line.

As he made his way to the bench, Bill heard a handful of little girls scream loud enough he thought the decibels alone might part his hair. He turned to look in the direction of the ruckus and three little girls came running around from behind the long, steel slide. A man, bent over and threatening with fingers in claws that tickle, chased after the girls. A man with long, blond dreadlocks held back with a bandana; a man with baggy jeans. A man who looked just like Tom.

When Bill got himself together and stopped staring, he smiled to himself, just a tiny smile that curved his lips. This Tom guy was easy enough on the eyes, and Bill certainly didn’t mind running into him, but he had to wonder what the man was doing here. Maybe he was babysitting, he thought, or maybe he’d brought his niece to the park.

He settled himself on the hard, wooden seat, wiggling slightly to get comfortable. Placing his bag on the seat next to him, he pulled out his sketchbook and the plastic case that held his charcoal pencils. Flipping to a clean page, he crossed his legs and held a soft pencil loosely between his fingers.

And that’s where Bill stopped. Nothing popped into his head, no image lurked beneath the surface of his mind, ready for Bill to bring it to life with quick strokes of dark charcoal. He looked at his pencil as if it had committed a capital offense, and stared down the white expanse of paper.

This was exactly what he feared would happen. He was having a horrible time finding inspiration since he moved here, and he often found himself staring at a blank piece of paper for an hour or more before he would admit to himself that nothing was coming. He’d realize he had other things that needed done, and he’d sigh and pack up his supplies, promising himself that he’d try again another day.

Unfortunately, when another day would come, Bill would again find himself staring at a blank sheet of paper.

He looked up at the trees, looked at the people playing in the park, hoping something would spark in him and his pencil would go flying over the intimidating sheet in front of him.

Glancing around, his eyes caught Tom again, but this time, Tom’s caught his, too. A look of recognition crossed Tom’s face, and he smiled widely and ducked his head. Bill would have sworn there was a hint of blush in the other man’s cheeks, and Bill gave him a toothy grin.

Tom ambled over to the bench, scuffing his Nikes through the sand with each step, a bashful smile on his face.

“Do you mind if I…?” Tom gestured to the bench, then sat on the other side of Bill’s art supplies, propping one leg on the bench in front of him so he could face Bill.

“Not at all.” Bill’s voice was soft and Tom had to struggle to hear him over the noise of the kids playing. Poising his pencil at the top of the sheet, Bill stroked several thick charcoal lines across the paper. His belly was doing all sorts of back flips and he didn’t quite know what to say. Attempting to concentrate on the page before him seemed the wisest idea.

Tom finally broke the silence, leaning over Bill’s supplies and tilting his head, “What are you drawing?”

Bill lifted his pencil from the paper and just stared at the paper. It was a good question.

“You know, I’m not sure.” Bill turned to him, eyes laughing. Tom’s breath was stolen right from his chest, and he couldn’t figure out how it was possible he was still living, but he thought he might be able to live in this man’s air for a while.

“Oh.” Tom sat back against the bench and congratulated himself on his witty response. If he could kick his own ass, he would.

Bill continued drawing what seemed to be shaping up as the playset before them, but only if he squinted hard. The kids continued shrieking, and Tom continued staring until Bill couldn’t take it anymore. He lay his pencil and pad on the case of supplies between them and turned to face Tom, his arm stretched out across the back of the bench.

“I don’t really know what I’m drawing because I haven’t been able to draw lately. My inspiration is just gone. And I better get it back soon if I’m going to get the designs done for the summer line.” Bill explained, wincing and pinching the bridge of his nose. The frustration was getting to him and he just wished the designs were done already.

“The summer line? What’s that?” Tom looked genuinely interested, and Bill realized that he’d expected Tom to just know what he meant. All his friends in New York would have known about the summer line. Hell, they’d have helped him get it ready.

“The clothing line for next summer? I work with Alana Beck.” Tom nodded, recognizing the name of a prominent clothing label. “The problem is that since I moved here, nothing seems to inspire me; nothing makes me feel like I have to capture it on paper.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “Why did you move here? I mean, you were working at the pub just down the street, right? You didn’t come here for a bartending job.”

Bill laughed, but Tom heard a faint strain beneath the mirth. “No, I just kind of fell into that. I came because … well, because the pub used to belong to my father. I was modeling in New York when he found out he was sick. I moved here to take care of him.”

“Oh.” Tom amazed himself with another display of verbal stupidity. “So now you run the pub and take care of him, and you design clothing?”

“No, I don’t take care of him anymore; he passed away last year.” Bill’s voice was even but he looked away, and Tom cursed himself silently. The last thing he’d wanted to do was upset the guy.

“I’m sorry.” Tom touched hesitant fingers to Bill’s wrist, letting them linger just a moment when the tips of Bill’s fingers lay on top of his. He pulled his hand back, curling his fingers into his fist as if to hold the touch in his palm.

“It’s okay.” Bill turned to face Tom completely, and his voice took on an animation that Tom wasn‘t sure he was quite feeling. “I’m so rude. Here I am, telling you all my problems and we haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Bill.” He held out his hand and Tom took it, wrapping his fingers around Bill’s and squeezing just as hard as Bill was squeezing his.

“Nice to meet you, Bill.” Tom grinned. “I’m Tom.”

“I assure you, Tom, the pleasure is all mine.” Bill looked at Tom through his lashes and pulled his hand back slowly, sliding his fingers gently over the skin of Tom’s palm until their fingertips just touched.

Tom’s stomach swirled pleasantly and he returned Bill’s smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

A child screeched and a slow wail started like a siren, and Tom turned instinctively toward the sound. A child had fallen from the swings and his mother ran to him before picking him up and cuddling him in her arms.

When the little boy had quieted down, and Tom’s pounding heart had slowed down, he turned to Bill. “You used to model in New York, huh?” Tom could believe it; Bill had the face for it, the body for it. “This place must be quite a change for you.”

“Not really.” Bill propped his head on the arm on the back of the bench. “I used to come visit my father for a couple weeks every summer.”

“Really?” Tom struggled to keep his jaw from dropping. How had he missed this guy? Bill definitely wasn’t someone that would be easily over-looked. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and I don’t remember ever seeing you.”

Bill chuckled, “Ah yes, you wouldn’t. I’m not really an outdoor kind of guy. I mostly stayed inside and played video games, watched television. That kind of thing.”

Tom echoed his chuckle. “What about your modeling? Would I have seen you in something?”

Bill smiled brilliantly, but he ducked his head, letting his hair fall softly in front of his face. “No, probably not.” He was silent for a moment. “Well, maybe. I had some ads and a couple spreads in Cosmo. You know, posing with the girl showing off the clothes? But I didn’t have a chance to do anything else before I had to come home and take care of Dad.”

“Wow. I’m sorry.” How is it that every damn thing he thought to talk to Bill about, was something that had turned out badly for Bill? Who has that kind of bad luck? “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. But look, I’d really like to see them sometime.” A high-pitched, little girl shriek cut through the air, drowning Tom out, “--just gorgeous.”

Bill brushed the hair from his eyes. “Gorgeous? Well, yeah, the girls they had me with were breathtaking. And the pictures were taken by one of the highest requested photographers in the business. And believe me, he’s highly requested for a reason. He can do wonders with--”

Tom didn't know where his boldness came from but he couldn't seem to stop it. Almost as if he was watching a movie, his hand reached out in slow motion. When his fingers finally brushed across the hand resting on Bill’s thigh, he heard a voice that sounded very much like his own, but deeper. “I meant you. I bet you‘re as gorgeous now as you were then.”

Bill inhaled sharply and his eyes searched Tom’s. His chest was tight, and adrenaline pumped through his veins. He didn’t know if he was scared or excited, because as far as he knew, Tom was straight. Didn’t he mention having a girlfriend? But here he was, smiling at Bill, looking as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Did that mean he didn’t have a girlfriend? Or that he just had no qualms about flirting with some guy, even if he was already taken?

His thoughts still whirring, Bill forced himself to look away. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t heard the same words a dozen times a day when he lived in New York. It came with the territory when he was a model. But when he’d moved to this town, this tiny conservative town, Bill hadn’t been sure he’d ever hear such words from another man’s lips again. And as torn as he was by the idea that Tom might not be available, it sure didn’t hurt to hear them now.

The smile slowly fell away from Tom’s face. Bill hadn’t exactly reacted well to the comment, and Tom winced at what the man must be thinking. Maybe Tom had read this guy completely wrong. He didn’t know how, but maybe Bill wasn’t gay, and maybe he wasn’t interested in Tom.

Bill smiling at him made him warm inside, Bill laughing made his insides twist, and Bill was the first man Tom had ever met that had made him want to explore a side of himself that he‘d kept hidden. It didn’t look like Bill was interested, though, and his disappointment curled in his belly. Deciding maybe it would be best if he just left before he made even more of a fool of himself, Tom stood and turned to Bill.

“Um…I’m sorry. I thought…” he thrust his hands into his hoodie pockets and glanced back at the little girls playing tag around the slide. “Well, I guess I was wrong. It was good to meet you, Bill.” Tom turned quickly and made it two long strides toward the playground before he felt long, cool fingers wrap around his wrist and stop him.

Bill didn’t know what he was doing; didn’t know why he wanted to know or even cared, but he had to ask. He locked his gaze with Tom’s deep brown eyes, ready and waiting for the smallest sign that Tom might not be truthful. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Tom’s brows dipped quickly and he cocked his head. “What? No! What makes you think--?”

And what Bill was looking for, what he was afraid he’d see in Tom’s face, was exactly what he didn’t find. The man answered the question with no pause, no blinking, no looking up and to the side. Tom was telling the truth.

“Okay, then. Good.” Bill nodded, his smile growing. “Can I ask another question?”

Tom grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”

Bill felt his cheeks begin to tingle with the blood rushing to them, but he pushed the feeling aside. It was now or never, and he was going for it. “I guess it’s kind of sudden, and very forward of me, but,” he slid his hand down Tom’s wrist to glide his finger’s over Tom’s, “would you like to have dinner with me some night?”

Tom felt like dancing and running away, all at once. The idea was terrifying, was so much more than Tom expected, but he decided he hadn’t wanted anything as much as this in a very long time. It was a moment before he found his voice, and when he did, it nearly squeaked on him.

“Yeah--” Tom cleared his throat and tried to ignore that he felt like he had the goofiest smile on his face. “I mean, yes. I’d love to.”

Bill dug out his cell phone from the bag on the bench and handed it to Tom, who took it from him, feeling even more confused that before.

“For you to put your number in.” Tom snorted at his own inexperience and Bill grinned as he watched Tom enter his phone number before handing it back. “I’ll see when I can get someone to cover me at the pub, and I’ll call--”

“Daddy!” Tom’s head whipped around and he dropped to a squat as a little girl flew at him full-tilt. Her little body collided hard with his and they both grunted out a breath. Tom picked her up and settled her on his hip, and she panted in his face, pushing sweaty blonde hair off her forehead. “Daddy, can we get pizza now? I’m starving!”


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