steins_stories

Title: No Questions Asked
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: R
Warnings: twincest
Summary: They've always been together, but never like this. It's only the beginning.
Author's Note: Of the series: Through the Years Banner by tokiobillhotel. Beta by

ma_chelle

Tom was on a roll. The pink tip of his tongue played reflexively with his lip ring, licking at it before he would suck the whole thing into his mouth.

Bill couldn’t watch the video game his brother was playing. He couldn’t. He’d spent half the afternoon watching his brother, instead, wanting to toss his controller aside and tackle Tom to the floor. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more; play with Tom's lip ring or play with the tongue that played with Tom's lip ring. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably; he’d made himself a promise that he wouldn’t think that way about his brother anymore. He looked at his thumbs, toying nervously with the controller in his hands; he was putting that stuff right out of his head.

“Gah…dammit!” Tom threw his controller aside in irritation and stood up, his fists balled tight at his sides. “I can never beat that damn boss.”

Bill looked up at him from where he kneeled on the floor, controller now held slack in his hands, his eyes wide. Tom almost never lost his temper with video games. Whenever he lost, he just chalked it up to experience and went back for more. This time, though, Tom's eyes flashed in anger and he loosed a string of curses so blue that Bill felt his ears heating up.

“Tom—“

“Tom!” Simone yelled downstairs from her studio door. “I can hear you all the way up here. If you guys are gonna get upset over a silly game, I think it’s time to turn it off and take yourselves outside!”

Tom caught Bill’s look and rolled his eyes, making Bill duck his head to giggle into his elbow.

“Let’s go outside anyway. Fuck this.” Tom held out a hand and Bill grabbed it, hauling himself up to his feet. He’d sat too long on his heels and his calves tingled unpleasantly. He reached down to rub them, trying to get the circulation going while Tom yelled back to Simone.

“Fine! I didn’t want to play that damn game anyway!” He squinted and pushed the game console back to the television stand.

Bill heard his mother’s annoyed sigh just as Tom took his wrist and they made their escape, Tom slamming the door on the way out.

~~~

“Where are we going?” Bill looked over at Tom some time later, trying to keep up with his brother’s quick stride.

“Does it matter?” Tom didn’t look back; he just stared ahead, walking determinedly.

Bill didn’t answer because of course Tom knew it didn’t matter. Bill would go wherever Tom went. That’s just how it worked. No questions asked.

“I just need to get away. We’re in a fucking band, Bill. Starting to make a name for ourselves and she’s getting after me for a few curse words? Mom’s dumb,” he griped into the wind and walked faster.

Bill trotted behind him, arms swinging hard, but they’d been walking at a near run for ages now and Bill was feeling it. He wasn’t really an outdoor kind of boy, if truth be known; he was used to playing video games and watching movies, not walking for a kilometer and a half. There was an ache starting in his legs and the wind whipping around them was making his cheeks burn and his eyes sting. He really wished he’d thought to grab his jacket on the way out the door.

“Tom.”

Tom didn’t slow and he didn’t turn around.

“Tom!” Bill tried to walk faster, tried to catch up with his brother. He was tired of walking, tired of freezing, tired of shivering and just plain tired. He wanted a hot cocoa and a cuddle with his brother on the couch while they watched a movie.

With that thought in mind, he pushed against the ache in his legs and grabbed Tom by the elbow, yanking him back roughly. “Tom!”

“What?” Tom turned on him, his eyes moist and his cheeks red. “I said what three times already! What?”

Now that they’d finally stopped and Bill stood before his brother, panting and shivering, Tom looked at him. He really looked at him and his eyes grew wide. “Shit, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Can we go home now?” Bill shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for warmth and not finding any. “I’m really cold.” His teeth chattered to prove his point. Why was he so dumb he didn’t grab his coat?

Tom looked around while Bill shivered, before shaking his head. “It’ll take just as long to get back home as it took to get here. Can you do that?”

Bill’s stomach dropped at Tom's words. Of course it would take as long to get back home as it took to get where they stood now. Bill looked back the way they came, down the long street behind them and a gust of wind hit him hard, lifting his hair and snaking down his tee shirt. He didn’t see how he could make it home, even with Tom with him. His legs would give out or he’d freeze to death. Visions of crawling up their front lawn and reaching for the door, freezing in that position played through his mind and he shook his head, eyes wide.

“I don’t think so. We need to call Mom.” Bill sniffed hard. Funny how his nose could be numb but he could still feel it leaking.

“Oh no,” Tom protested, “We are so not calling Mom. I’ll figure this out.” He looked around again. They were in a neighboring housing area, a big highway the only thing splitting it from where they lived. These houses looked pretty much like the ones where they lived, right down to the bikes on the front lawns and the Christmas decorations in the windows. Bill could almost imagine the warmth in their living rooms, the smell of supper cooking and he moaned under his breath.

“Tom.” Bill was starting to sound desperate, and Tom responded by taking his arm and tugging him toward a break between the houses. “Where are we going?”

“I’m looking for something. Keep up.” Tom was looking left and right as they walked through people’s back yards, trying not to trip over skateboards left out or run through sleeping flower gardens.

“I’m trying but—“ His words were carried away on the wind that went swirling by him but Bill didn’t think it mattered. Tom had yanked him toward a big tree in the very back of the yard of a really big, white house. When they got to the base of it, Tom pointed up.

“Get up there.”

Bill looked up and blinked several times, trying to focus on the treehouse above them.

“C’mon, get up there before they see us out here!” Tom hissed, looking at the lights of the house and he nudged Bill toward the ladder.

“But my legs are tired, Tom; what if I fall?” The ladder looked really high from where they stood. At fourteen, the twins were tall for their age but it didn’t matter when Bill’s legs were sore and the wind kept stealing his breath and he just didn’t know if he had the energy to keep going or even move at all.

“Bill,” Tom whispered close to his ear, “I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let you fall.” Tom's breath ghosted warm over Bill’s cheek and he almost leaned into it. Instead, he shook himself and grabbed the ladder, shakily lifting himself up on the first rung. “There you go. Keep going,” Tom urged.

Bill’s fingers were going numb but he watched them clasp onto rung after rung, the knuckles turning white with the effort of holding on until he peeled them, unfeelingly, to move to the next one. He concentrated as hard as he could on one rung, then the next, then the next, feeling Tom right below him, and soon, his head hit a trap door in the bottom of the treehouse floor. He pushed up on it as hard as he could, not considering the possibility that someone might have been in the treehouse just then, because frankly, he wouldn’t have cared if there was. He’d have begged to come in if he had to.

The trapdoor swung over, opening wide and bouncing once against where it hit the floor. Bill popped his head through the opening and scrambled up as quickly as he could, laying his body on the edge of the hole and swinging his legs up until he lay on the treehouse floor. Tom climbed up right behind him and quickly closed the trap door, blocking out the wind until there was nothing but a howling around them, shaking the walls of their shelter but not seeping through the slats.

It was dim inside, the late afternoon sun no longer high in the sky and shining through the one small window, but Bill didn’t mind that they didn’t have much light. They could see just fine and that was all that mattered. There was a tiny table up there, with two little chairs, a bookshelf that didn’t house a single book but instead was stacked from end to end with art supplies and loose piles of paper. A cot sat in the corner, flat and bare.

Tom looked around, wide eyed. “This is damn nice for a tree house. Remember we had one, but there was pretty much nothing in it?” He flipped his thumb through a stack of drawings on the bookshelf. “I kinda miss it sometimes.”

Bill hauled himself over to the cot and sat on it cross-legged, his arms wrapped tight around himself. They were out of the wind but he still couldn’t stop shivering and he eyed his brother’s hoodie hungrily. He couldn’t help but think about how warm it would be inside there, the heat from his brother trapped in the soft, cotton fabric, and he licked his lips and drew his legs up, resting his chin on his knees.

“Tom, will you…?” He wanted to ask if he could use Tom's hoodie but caught himself before he could get the whole question out. If Tom let him use the hoodie, Tom would be cold, and Bill didn’t want that, even if it meant that he would be warm. He ducked his head, propping his forehead on his knees and breathing out, the hot, moist breath warming his face.

But then Tom was at his side, scooting closer on the bed and rubbing at the chilled skin of Bill’s arms. There was concern in Tom's eyes and guilt and a tenderness that didn’t often live there. Tom's lips were moving, the words on his breath nearly silent but Bill caught a word or two.

“…so dumb…worst…idiot…brother…”

Bill’s chest clenched and his brows furrowed. Tom thought he was dumb? That Bill was the worst brother? Bill knew that he wasn’t the smartest kid ever, and he should have grabbed his coat on the way out. He already felt pretty stupid himself, but Tom had never said anything like that to him before and it hurt. His words stung hard, and as much as Bill would have liked to tell himself that the tears in his eyes were left over from the wind, he knew that wasn’t true.

“Am I really a bad brother?” Bill asked, his voice trembling as hard as the rest of him. It almost didn’t matter what answer Tom gave. If he said yes, Bill would hurt more than he did now, because he’d know how Tom felt; if he said no, Bill would think he was a liar. He’d already heard what Tom said, anyway, and Tom couldn’t deny it.

“What?” Tom asked, startled enough to stop rubbing Bill’s arms, and the goosebumps rose quickly again on his chilling flesh.

“You just said I’m dumb, an idiot, the worst brother. Didn’t you say that?” Bill couldn’t meet his brother’s searching gaze. He tried to focus on the ceiling, instead, with its dark brown boards that kept out the rain and bird poop.

“No, Bill!” Tom protested. “You’re not dumb, or an idiot or the worst brother. That’s me.” Tom looked ashamed as he slowly began to run his hands over Bill’s arms again. “I’m the worst brother because I dragged you out in this. I didn’t even think about whether you had a coat or anything. Stupid.”

Bill scoffed. “I was the one who didn’t get a coat, Tom. You didn’t make me go, either.” Bill crossed his arms over his chest. “I always go with you.” He ducked his head again, hiding behind hair that was just long enough to cover his eyes and he felt Tom shift next to him.

He heard the zipper of Tom's hoodie and he looked up quickly, pressing his palm against Tom's chest to stop him. “What are you doing?”

Tom gave him a look that said Bill really was being dumb and he yanked the zipper down the rest of the way. “Gonna let you wear this.”

“No. Uh uh.” Bill shook his head emphatically. “No, ‘cause then you’ll be cold.”

Tom didn’t even stop at Bill’s words. “I don’t care, Bill. You need to get warm.” He had one sleeve half pulled off and Bill tugged it up, trying to get his brother to put it back on.

“I won’t wear it. You need it.” Bill raised his chin, determined that this was one fight he wasn’t going to lose.

“Okay, stop,” Tom grunted, grabbing Bill’s wrist. “Just…” He looked down at the hoodie, holding it open as if contemplating.

“What?” Bill asked, wishing Tom wasn’t so stubborn about calling their mom. Did he think they could stay there all night?

“I think this might work.” Tom shook the edge of the hoodie, opening it wider. “C’mere. Get in here.”

Bill squinted at him. “Get in there?” He furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? Tom, that’s weird.”

“No, it’s not. You want to get warm, don’t you?” He wiggled the edges again. “It’s warm in here, and even warmer with me in it, too.”

Bill couldn’t argue with that. He was still freezing and just the idea of cuddling up with Tom inside that huge hoodie made him practically melt before he even got inside it. He nodded and scooted as close to his brother as he could, pressing his hip tightly against Tom's and leaning into him, laying his head on Tom's shoulder as Tom wrapped the warm, cotton fabric around him.

“Ugh,” Tom grunted into his hair. “I can’t get the zipper together. It’s not big enough.” Bill could feel him fidgeting behind his elbow and his stomach sank at Tom's words. Maybe this wasn’t going to work. “You’re gonna have to move.”

Bill sighed and started to move away. “Shit,” he muttered.

“No, look.” Tom grasped his arm and pulled him closer again. “Just sit on my lap.” He opened the hoodie again, waiting. “Straddle my legs. It’s just like a hug, right? No big deal.” Tom bit his lip and dropped his eyes, and Bill would have sworn his brother blushed.

“You sure? I mean, just like a hug, right?” Bill got up on his knees, edging cautiously toward Tom, already tasting the warmth being offered him.

“Yeah, of course. Just shut up and get in here; it’s cold out there,” Tom answered, refusing to look up.

Bill snorted at him and carefully threw one leg over his brother’s lap and scooted himself forward until he could feel the heat coming off of Tom's torso. Tom quickly wrapped the hoodie around his back and zipped it to the top.

“Ah, shit, my hair!” Bill squealed and tried to paw at the back of his head. His hair was caught in the damn zipper and, on instinct, he tried to pull away from it. Tears sprung to his eyes at the pain in his scalp and he bit his lip hard.

“Dammit, hold still!” Tom let the zipper follow Bill to let the pressure off his traumatized skin. “If you hold still, I’ll get it out.”

It was hard but Bill held still while Tom fumbled behind him. He tried to breathe, tried to concentrate on his warming skin and not think about how one accidental yank from Tom's fingers could hurt him again.

“I can’t…” Tom sighed, letting his arms drop. He sounded frustrated and reached behind Bill again. “I need to get closer; I can’t see it and I can’t get your hair out.” He nudged Bill toward him and Bill sucked in a breath and leaned into his brother, unwrapping his arms from around himself.

Bill held himself stiffly against Tom, his palms resting lightly on Tom's sides while Tom craned his neck over Bill’s shoulder, resting his chin there. Tom's skin was warm through his shirt and Bill moved his hands up, spreading his fingers over Tom's chest while Tom tugged lightly, carefully, at his hair. Finally, Bill heard his hair rip and he was free.

“Sorry,” Tom breathed into his neck and Bill’s belly twisted. He didn’t know if Tom was apologizing for ripping his hair, zipping it up to begin with, or just them being stuck in the cold, but he guessed it didn’t really matter; Bill would forgive him anyway.

“’S okay,” Bill murmured, trying to hold his body away from Tom's, his fingers pressing into the t-shirt and Tom squirmed.

“Tickles.” He wrapped his arms around Bill’s back. “Put your arms around my back so you can get closer.” He drew Bill toward him and Bill gave in. He gave in, stopped trying to hold himself away and lay his body against Tom's, wrapping long arms around Tom's back and holding him close.

He tucked his nose into Tom's neck, laid his head on Tom's shoulder and melted into his brother. He forgot how to breathe and he forgot about trying not to think things that no one should think about their brother. Even when their brother is their twin. Even when their brother is Tom.

Tom's heat and scent surrounded him. He smelled like coconut from his dread wax, like the musk that his deodorant couldn’t mask, like calm and protection and love and Bill hugged him harder, pressing their chests together with a tiny whimper that he couldn’t keep from escaping.

Tom answered with a catch of his breath and pulled Bill in hard before letting him loose all at once. “What are you…” His voice was low, taut, and Bill clenched his eyes closed.

“Nothing, just…” He slid his hands up Tom's back, gripping his shoulder blades, his fingers digging into Tom's shoulders. “Trying to get warm.”

“Ah,” Tom said, tightly, and his hands moved down to Bill’s hips, holding him in place. He squeezed them, the pressure a warning, but Bill didn’t care about warnings right now. He didn’t know what he was doing, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was feeling, but he knew he was feeling something and his hips wouldn’t hold still, even if he’d wanted them to.

He moved, slowly, carefully, sliding his body against Tom's. He only moved an inch or two but it felt like so much more when they were pressed together and Tom breath was coming heavy in his ear. Tom squeezed his hips again as Bill pushed against him; just the slightest bit of pressure against his cock, achingly hard in his jeans and Bill groaned without reservation. There was a niggling voice in his head that told him this was absolutely wrong; he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be touching his brother like this or feeling so good when he did.

Bill didn’t care. All he could feel was the warmth of Tom's arms around him, the frantic beat of Tom's heart against his chest and the hardness of Tom's cock under him and he knew he was doing the right thing. The right thing for them.

He pressed his lips against Tom's neck, his pulse point fluttering against them. “Tom,” Bill whispered, rubbing against him again.

This time, Tom answered with a groan and a thrust of his hips, pushing himself up and rubbing against Bill, his fingers tight enough on Bill’s hips to leave bruises. He buried his face in Bill’s shoulder and thrust again, grunting before holding Bill down on him hard, stopping their grinding in an instant.

“Stop, Bill.” Tom's voice was rough against his t-shirt and Bill pulled back to look at him. He was done being ashamed of what he felt for his brother, and Tom might as well know it. Whether Tom felt the same…

Tom met his eyes and Bill caught his breath at the darkness in them, a look in them that he didn’t recognize but made his belly flip. His eyes fell to Tom's lips, so full and swollen, and the tingle in his groin spread out to his thighs. Tom's tongue played with his lip ring, little pink flashes prodding it and wiggling it and Bill leaned in.

Tom's lips were as soft as they looked, only a little chapped against Bill’s lips, but he didn’t care. They felt like heaven to him and it took Tom's firm grip to keep Bill from thrusting down into him again. Still, Tom didn’t resist Bill’s mouth. He kissed Bill back, breathing heavily through his nose in hot puffs against Bill’s cheek.

“Bill.” Tom let go of his hips and cupped both of Bill’s cheeks and pushed them apart, breaking their kiss and leaving them breathless. “I don’t—“

“Just don’t say no. Just think about—“ Bill started, a frantic feeling rising in his chest. He didn’t want to stop, not now that he had felt Tom's arms around him, felt Tom's lips against his.

“Shut up, Bill.” Tom gave him a tiny smile and rested his forehead against Bill’s, their breath finally calming. “I didn’t know. Okay? I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Is it bad? To feel this way, is it bad?” Bill tilted his head and brushed his lips over Tom's cheek and Tom pushed him back to look at him properly.

“Does it feel bad?” Tom’s eyes were serious and Bill shook himself, trying not to think of where he was sitting and the hardness under him.

“Well, yeah.” He could feel his face flushing. He wanted to duck his head and he would have, if Tom hadn’t been holding it. “And…no. I mean, that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it. Or…doing it.”

Tom watched him for a moment, his eyes flickering from Bill’s eyes to his lips, before answering.

“Yeah, doesn’t stop me, either.” And then Tom kissed him. It was Tom's choice, Tom did it. Tom kissed him, and Bill thought that if he wasn’t in Tom's arms right now, he might just soar right out of that treehouse.

It was even darker when they broke apart again, inky shadows melding together across the floor and up the walls as they tried to catch their breath.

Tom's lips were wet and swollen under his as Bill murmured into them, “Tom, it’s dark.”

“Yeah,” Tom whispered.

“We should call Mom,” Bill said, as nonchalantly as he could. He didn’t want Tom getting all obstinate again, but he knew if they didn’t call soon, they’d be in bigger trouble than they already were going to be in.

“Yeah,” Tom replied easily, surprising Bill.

“Really?”

Tom laughed shortly, just a chuckle against Bill’s cheek, “Really. But not yet,” he said, his voice husky as he pulled Bill close again.

Bill smiled against Tom's lips and thought it was getting awfully warm in that treehouse.