when the gales of November come early (kishmet) wrote,
when the gales of November come early

Avon Calling, 1/?

Avon Calling, Tokio Hotel, Bill/Tom (not related), PG (rating will go up). When the sexiest Avon sales representative ever shows up at Tom Kaulitz's door, Tom is forced to question his sexuality, his morals, and his woeful lack of cosmetics knowledge.

I've been wanting to write this one for awhile now, but as I don't want it to interfere with my other chaptered fics, I've decided to write and post just a little (two hundred words, five hundred words, whatever) to LJ every day. It's mostly for my own benefit, to keep me writing and updating on some kind of schedule. ^_~

"One sec!" Tom hollered, groaning as he peeled himself off the sofa. Someone had rung the doorbell, and since neither his mother nor his father were home, it was up to Tom to move his lazy ass to answer the door. He glanced again at the ballgame score - five to nil, no chance of his team making a comeback in the bottom of the eighth - sighed, stretched, and plodded over to flip the locks and unfasten the door chain.

The sight that greeted him on his parents' front porch was so unexpected that all Tom could do was stare for a long couple seconds. At first he thought maybe he'd won a Playboy contest or something, because the woman was utterly stunning. She had long black hair that swept attractively over one shoulder, high delicate cheekbones, and striking makeup: black Cleopatra-esque eyeliner and, Tom noted, his eyes trailing dazedly downward, pale pink gloss that made her generous lips look thoroughly kissable. Less curvy than he usually preferred them, but god, did those legs that went on for miles ever make up for the lack of cleavage.

But then Tom had to do another doubletake - a tripletake? - as he realized that the person standing at the door was, in fact, a man. Tom jerked his head up to stare again, and the man smiled brightly at him, announcing, "Avon calling! I'm Bill Trumper, your local Avon representative." He held up the box cradled carefully in his arms, and Tom blinked. Avon. Right. The name was vaguely familiar, though all Tom could envision them selling was Tupperware, and that wasn't right because Tupperware, the company, sold Tupperware, obviously.

"My mom's not-" Tom began to say, then thought better of it. If he said his mother wasn't home and that he wasn't interested in Avon products, whatever those might be, then this beautiful creature would continue on to the next house rather than giving Tom further opportunity to admire him. "Uh, yeah, sure. Come in."

Oh my god, I'm gay, Tom mused, in a state of mild shock as he stepped aside to let Bill into the house.

Tags: avon
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