Title: #4
Author: paraboobizarre
Pairing(s): none
Rating: G
Disclaimer: not mine, never happened
Warnings: extremely cuddly fluff
Summary: Tom's sick and Bill's worried...
Author's notes: I once wrote that for Emily some time ago and since it's like fluffy fluff I thought I'd share with the rest of you <333


Tom tried to get up from his place on the pullout but was immediately shoved back again. He fell on his back and groaned in pain as seemingly every single muscle in his body cramped up in protest.

"You stay here," Bill announced matter of factly, while he grabbed a neatly folded plaid from the foot end of the sofa and spread it over Tom's lap.

"It's not like the world is going to end just because you miss that one sound check," he added, gathering his things from the table and stuffing them haphazardly into his giant bag.


Tom moaned under his breath, an indistinct and petulant sound as he pulled the plaid up to his chest and curled in on his side. His bum still hurt from where the doctor, who David had called in a fit of hysterics, had injected him with cortisone. All he had was a light cough and just a wee bit of temperature, hardly anything to justify calling in a doctor. With needles. Just the recollection made Tom shudder and he pulled his legs up to his chest, rolling into a tight ball under the sheet.

"God, you really are sick..." Bill stopped mid motion and sat down on the sofa next to him. He felt Tom's forehead with the back of his hand, checking his own temperature next to gauge Tom's non-existent fever.

"Don't be silly – I'm just a bit under the weather today; lack of sleep probably," Tom grumbled, swatting Bill's hands away as they started to fuss with the blanket and his shirt sleeves. His baby brother looked truly concerned and Tom immediately felt bad for snapping at Bill like that.

"I don't know Tomi...that stomach bug that's been going around lately, maybe you should go lie down on the bus, get some sleep?" Bill brushed some imaginary hairs out of Tom's face, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb against his temple, a gesture so familiar it made Tom feel sleepy and warm almost instantly.

He nodded weakly, pulling himself to his feet and trotting after Bill down the meandering hallways of the stadium. Bill kept looking back over his shoulder every few seconds as if to make sure he was still there and hadn't somehow magically disappeared or had fainted somewhere along the way.

Bill's concern was sweet and slightly troubling at the same time. Sweet because it wasn't often that Tom got his twin's undivided attention lately; there was just too much going on around them, too much people wanting a piece of them, too much distraction and sometimes, somehow, Tom couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. It was silly and immature but deep down he didn't want to share his brother, his Bill.
At the same time Bill's concerned expression, the worry knitting tight lines across his forehead was making Tom uneasy. It shouldn't be like this; he was the big brother and worrying was definitely big brother territory and not Bill's.

Bill slowed down as they got to the exit, one way leading towards the stage, the other one out to the parking lot where Tom could already see their bus.

"Promise me you take some Aspirin and get some sleep – no smoking, playing video games or practicing guitar, okay?"

Tom nodded duly and shuffled off towards the parking lot. He didn't turn around but he didn't need to either. Bill was still standing there watching him getting on the bus in one piece; he could tell by the way he practically felt his twin's eyes boring into the back of his head.

The bus doors slid open with a mean hissing sound and Tom heaved himself up the few steep steps. The smell on the bus alone made him sleepy, that curious way in which the bus had begun to feel really like home in the last couple of months.

It smelled of Bill mostly and maybe that was why it felt so homey to Tom. Pulling off his caps and toeing off his sneakers he briefly considered laying down in his own bunk but even as he pulled back the sheets he knew he didn't really want to sleep in there. Instead he turned round and climbed into the bunk opposite. Bill's bunk.

He struggled out of his jeans and let them drop to the ground before he pulled the curtains shut and snuggled under the rumpled mess of bedding that filled the tiny bunk.
Bill hated the standard issue bedding so instead he had stuffed his bunk with a duvet that was way too thick and too big for the cramped space and had added a few more pillows to his usual one. As a result the duvet usually spilled over the edge of the bunk and Georg loved to tease Bill that he obviously still needed a fort at his age.

Tom smiled as he fluffed up Bill's pillow under his head, the scent of his brother's hair puffing up in little clouds of intoxicating perfume. He rolled on his side, the gigantic duvet pulled up to his nose; when he pushed his hand under the pillow his fingers brushed against something soft.

He pulled it out and held it under the dull light of the reading light clipped into the corner. It was a worn down, pale blue flap of cotton, the material already so bald in places it was hard to tell that the faded yellow spots scattered over the cloth had once been little ducks.
It was Bill's cuddly blanket, given to him when he was about three years old. Tom had had the same one but had abandoned it years ago already.

He pulled one corner up his face, brushing the velvety cloth against his upper lip, smiling to himself as he did. Somehow he had known Bill had kept it on the bus, carried it with him wherever he went. They all had strange things that brought them comfort, the kind of thing that, if ever discovered and made public, they would categorically deny.

Tom still had his childhood teddy bear, safely stuffed under his own pillow in the bunk opposite, Georg had an old rag doll like thing that was so faded and worn down nobody could possibly tell what it had once been and even Gustav had something, his own private sheets, flannel with tiny green frogs holding umbrellas that he always kept around.

Sighing deeply he snuggled deeper into Bill's bedding fort, bringing the cuddly blanket up to his nose, inhaling his baby brother's scent and soon dozed off.

Tom awoke with a start when something pushed him into a stack of pillows against the side of the bus. He spluttered, trying to sit up but he was too disoriented really; in the smothering heat under Bill's special blanket his muscles seemed to have turned to wax and he just blinked into the dull light of the bunk.

The curtains were still drawn but now he definitely had a bedfellow. Bill had lain down behind him and was now hugging his middle so fiercely Tom was sure Bill was crushing some vital organs just about now.

"Mmmmmmmmmm, lucky bastard, you got to sleep all afternoon long," Bill muttered, petting Tom's dreads flat against the pillow to lay his head on them; Tom could feel the light tug on his scalp and he leaned back against his brother.

"I am kind of sickly after all!" He quipped quietly.

"Oh the hell you are...you're just a big baby," Bill teased, twining his fingers with Tom's and moulding himself against his back.
"They sent me to get you but I think we should stay here for another five minutes," Bill yawned.

Tom's free hand curled in a fist around Bill's cuddly blanket. Baby ducks! Behind him Bill let out a content purring sound and Tom decided not to say anything. For now at least.