"So who are you shopping for today, Mr...?" Bill asked cheerfully, obviously not aware that Tom had turned away from the door to stare at his ass.
"Huh?" Tom blinked. Bill's ass was skinnier than his legs, which meant that it was almost nonexistent, and yet it was still the most attractive Tom had ever seen. The skintight gray jeans Bill wore weren't helping. They didn't leave anything at all to the imagination, though they did leave Tom wondering how the hell Bill had managed to fit certain other portions of his anatomy into them. "Oh. Kaulitz. Tom Kaulitz, hi."
Bill turned around and beamed at him, a smile that touched his eyes and made him, if possible, even hotter than before. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kaulitz. May I sit down?"
"It's just Tom, and sure, yeah!" Tom hastened to clear away the couple beers he'd downed, grabbing them and tossing them into the kitchen trash can, just around the corner. He came back in time to witness Bill taking a dainty seat on the couch, crossing one gloriously long leg over the other. With a brand of consideration Tom generally reserved for his mother, grandmother, and any girlfriends he brought home - not that he'd had many serious enough for that - he snagged the remote and started turning the volume down.
"Wait, wait," said Bill. "Eighth inning, right? Leave it up."
"Oh yeah?" Tom asked, surprised. "Okay, cool. Cubs fan?" He put the remote down on the coffee table next to a bunch of his mother's home decorating magazines.
"Yep. Ugh, still five nothing?" Bill sighed, shaking his head.
"Uh-huh," Tom replied absently as he stared at Bill in awe. So far Bill was kind of like the perfect girl, minus the boobs. Tom couldn't figure out why he hadn't tried being gay before, because, well, damn.
"Anyway, oh. Are you shopping for yourself or for someone else today, Tom?" Bill asked, delivering the spiel with a little half-smile, as though he knew the whole professionalism thing was ridiculous when they were just a couple guys sitting on the couch watching the ballgame. Or at least that's what Tom guessed the smile meant. Bill looked more feminine than half the girls Tom knew, so maybe he was capable of being just as incomprehensible as any female member of the species.
For his mother, Tom almost replied, or maybe for his great-aunt Ethel, who bought pretty much everything As Seen On TV, and would probably like whatever Bill was hawking. But, right, Bill had to have an interest in the stuff if he was selling it door to door, so Tom figured he could pretend he did too, for the sake of getting to know Bill better and possibly, in the future, getting into those tight little pants. "For me, yeah," said Tom.
"Oh, good." Bill opened the box he'd set on his lap, and started unloading a bunch of compacts and bottles onto the couch between them. "So many men are enjoying our cosmetic lines these days," Bill chattered happily. "I think some earth tones would suit you, and maybe some black liner for those evenings when you really want your eyes to pop!"
"Um," said Tom, as a sinking feeling came over him. "Sure."