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

twc/kradam snippet, part 1 :O

This is the first part of a ficlet for xmidnightblazex, who is awesome and appreciates the wonder of both my favorite glitterboys. She picked out both Adam references in the latest chapter of Code 483, and therefore deserves a cookie. I'd post the whole thing tonight, but I need to type the rest up and I'm going to collapse in bed now, lol.

American Idol/Tokio Hotel crossover (aka Reality), featuring Tom/Bill and Kradam! No worries, the pairings are entirely independent of each other; their stories just happen to intersect and benefit them all here. ;)


"I don't know, Bill." Tom shakes his head, just poking his head out of the back seat of the SUV, as though he's a turtle with an enormous metal shell.

But Bill isn't a turtle; he's more the proverbial hare when he's in the mood, and tonight he's going to find a party or make one, come hell or high water. "Come on, Tom, nobody knows us here," he coaxes, because parties just aren't right without his twin there, making bad jokes and drinking too many shots. Bill has to stay relatively sober, then, so he can take care of Tom, later. That's just how they function, and sometimes, when it comes to their twin things, Bill is the one who's actually more resistant to change. "We can have fun."

"Fine, fine," Tom grumbles without rancor, scooting on out of the car. He punches Bill lightly in the shoulder as he steps onto the pavement. "Jeez, Bill." It never takes much for one of them to persuade the other into a night out, even if Bill has a headache or Tom just wants to fiddle around on the guitar all night. They share a twin look, complete with one of Tom's tiny, sweet secret smiles that makes Bill flush with warmth that's brotherly, and not, all at once. It makes him remember what he's trying to forget with a night of flashing lights and music and sweat shared with strangers; makes him remember the feelings he and Tom have been dancing around for years.

"Jeez, Tom," Bill echoes, and turns away. He lifts his chin and convinces himself that all is right in his world, with Tom at his back and the huge, fabulous, glittering L.A. club scene laid out before him, ripe for the picking. He refrains from clapping his hands like a kid with a new toy, and he struts his way into the VIP line instead, flanked by his twin and their massive bodyguard.

***

"Adam, seriously?" Kris groans, all good-natured as the chauffeur pulls the car up to their third club of the night.

"Kris, why'd you think I stopped you from having more than a beer at the first two places?" Adam asks, perfectly glossed lips curving into a downright wicked grin. "You're a lightweight, baby, and our night's far from over."

He's given one of Kris' patented pathetic looks, but he's learned to pay those no heed when he's set his mind on something. Most of the time Kris gets his way because he's the most adorable little American Idol package ever; Adam figures, though, that he's given in enough times that he can nudge Kris into capitulating every so often. "All right!" says Adam cheerfully, as though Kris has voiced enthusiastic encouragement for the plan. "Come on, you're going to love the VIP room. Lots of songwriters hanging out in there, some of the best new indie guys."

"Yeah?" Kris perks up and actually precedes him out of the car, glancing back with interest as Adam continues to elaborate on the great quality of the musicians they're bound to encounter once they're inside.

It's not a date, Adam has to remind himself. He's not allowed to take advantage of the privileged knowledge that Kris Allen, the American Idol, and his all-American wife have been quietly on the outs for months. Kris still talks to Katy every night on the phone, and that's good, that's healthy, they're best friends and maybe they can sort out the platonic stalemate their marriage has become. Adam's not going to get in the way of that, and if he puts his hand on Kris' shoulder and lets it rest there too long, it's just because he's guiding them into the VIP line, where Kris still forgets they belong these days.

Kris never does shrugs him off, always gives him that stupid amazing lopsided grin the way he's doing now, but Adam refuses to read anything into it. That's just Kris, that's how he is, that's how they are.

***

Bill's toying with his drink and chatting with a group of women, actresses or singers, he's not sure, but they're middle-aged, they've never heard of him, and they want makeup tips. They're good conversationalists, almost as good as a group of grandmothers over coffee instead of a group of mothers over colorful mixed drinks "I know my daughter was talking about... Suburban Sprawl or something?" one of them guesses, clueless, and another who's more on top of the cosmetics world cracks up.

"Urban Decay," says Bill, laughing along even though his mind's somewhere else. It's in the corner with Tom, who's got a pair of significantly younger ladies hanging on his every stupid joke, offering to buy him drinks even though Tom's the superstar here.

This is another part of what they do, what they've always done: Bill plays the role charming social butterfly and Tom's the smooth operator, or so Tom thinks until Bill teases him over it, later. Bill wouldn't be so resistant to some modification of this routine, but he can't bring it up without mentioning what they very carefully never mention to each other, so their outings stay the same.

He excuses himself a minute later, drifting over to the bar because he knows Tom's finished his drink and is going to want another one. Bill feels the eyes on him as he waits for the bartender to deliver Tom's rum and Coke; it's a feeling he's accustomed to, being stared at and marveled over or whispered about.

But then he turns with a drink in either hand and finds himself face to face a pair of glitter-lined eyes that aren't his own; they're almost on a level with his, shocking enough that Bill blinks, struck speechless for a full second. "Hey," says the voice belonging to the eyes. "Bill Kaulitz, right?"
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 5 comments