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Improvisation	By : Rina76 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Tokio Hotel Views: 1721 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Georg Listing, Tom Kaulitz, Bill Kaulitz or any members of Tokio Hotel. This story is a complete work of fiction and not true. I don't own this fandom am not making any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 13
An hour later after his eye-opening experience with his new dildo, Georg is reading a Stephen King novel by the glow of the candles. It’s probably not good for his eyes reading with such dim light but there’s nothing else to do. The insistent noise of the rain on the roof of his trailer masks the first few raps, but when it gets louder and more urgent, his ears detect the sound. That’s the sound of knocking. Puzzled, Georg gets up off the lounge and unlocks the door, opening it a crack.

Tom is standing there, soaked to the bone. He has the top of his hoodie up over his head but it hasn’t shielded him from the rain in any way.

Not quite believing his eyes, Georg reaches out and his fingers grasp a soggy sleeve. Paternal instincts taking over, Georg pulls the boy up the steps inside and pushes the hood back, smoothing Tom’s dripping hair out of his face. The teenager’s cheeks are cold and his lips are faintly blue.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Georg chastises.

Tom shivers. “I was bored all by myself.”

A massive rumble of thunder rocks the trailer, making Tom jump. Georg shakes his head, his forehead furrowed in amazement. “It’s pissing down out there. You walked all the way over here in this abominable weather?”

“Ran, actually,” Tom informs him, with another teeth-chattering shiver. With the illumination of all the candles scattered about the place, Georg catches sight of something silver and glinting, draped against Tom’s jeans leg, which is clinging to his thigh like a second skin.

“And you’re wearing your key chain too?” he says incredulously. “That’s made of metal, Tom. Metal is a conductor of electricity. With that and all your piercings, you could have been hit by lightning, you idiot!”

Tom scowls; his eyelashes spiky with wetness. “Well, I didn’t get hit, did I? So, stop scolding me or I’ll run all the way back to my trailer again. Anyone would think you’re not happy to see me.”

With an exasperated tone, Georg replies, “Of course I’m happy to see you, Tom.” With the pad of his thumb, he sweeps away a bead of water trickling down Tom’s cheek. “I just can’t get over how unbelievably insane you are sometimes.”

“You and me both,” Tom mutters, drops of water falling off him everywhere and spattering onto Georg’s carpet. He’s absolutely saturated, his hair like sodden strings and his moisture-logged hoodie moulding to his torso, revealing the peaks of his nipples. If he doesn’t get warm, he’ll get the flu or something worse.

“Strip,” Georg commands. Tom lifts his eyebrows.

“What, no foreplay?”

At Tom’s lame joke, Georg retorts, “Hardy ha,” and strides into the bathroom. He returns with two towels. Stepping out of his squishy sneakers, Tom peels his drenched clothing off piece by piece and passes it to Georg who wrings it all out in his sink and hangs it over the back of his kitchenette chairs to dry. With no radiator going, that’ll take forever. Hopefully the power comes back on soon. Georg wraps one of the towels around Tom’s long hair like a shroud and makes him stand there as if he’s a child, naked as a seal and just as wet, while he dries the kid’s body off.

What a romantic gesture, Georg thinks, smiling to himself as he’s on his knees, rubbing the fluffy towel up and down Tom’s lovely long legs. For Tom to brave that fierce storm and lightning and hailstones, running all the way over here just to see him...it’s both incredibly moronic and incredibly sweet. Tom must have really missed him to do such a suicidal thing. Either that or he’s extremely horny. Knowing Tom’s raging hormones, Georg guesses it’s probably the latter.

Once Tom is suitably dry, Georg dumps the towel on the floor, cradles the boy’s whittled hips in his hands and starts kissing his flat belly. Tom’s bare skin is chilled and goosepimply under Georg’s lips and palms. Georg’s aim is to warm him up and what better way to do that than with sex? Because Georg had a killer orgasm earlier with his newly-purchased toy, there’s flat-out no chance of getting his dick up again but he can make do without it. He can still raise Tom’s temperature by a few degrees. He has a mouth and ten fingers, doesn’t he?

“No, Georg,” Tom says gently and pushes him away.

Georg gazes up with a question in his eyes. The dancing candle-flames are reflected in the brunette’s ocean-coloured orbs, twinkling and sparkling.

Tom’s cool fingers touch the softness of Georg’s smooth-shaven jaw in an apologetic gesture before picking up the towel to cover his nudity. “I didn’t come here for that.”

Tom doesn’t want Georg to think that the only thing he’s after is sex because that’s not true. Okay, so sometimes he does just want sex but other times he just wants to be around Georg, to bask in his easy-going, relaxed aura and listen to his voice and have the guy look at him with those intent green eyes as if Tom is the most interesting thing in his life.

“I just came to hang out with you, G. As fun as all the other stuff is, we really don’t talk as much as we should.”

Georg nods, surprised by Tom’s words but not disagreeing with them. He clambers to his feet and raids his wardrobe, selecting a pair of boxers and socks, some black sweatpants with a burgundy stripe up each side and a matching top made of heat-retaining fleece. Those are his winter pyjamas. He hands them to Tom quipping, “At this rate, you’re gonna own more of my clothes than I do.”

Tom steps into the boxer shorts, drawing them up to his hips. “Yeah, I still have your hoodie, man,” he says apologetically. “Sorry I’ve had it so long. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

Georg waves away that offer. “Keep it. It’s not like it’s a favourite or anything.”

“Right. Thanks,” Tom replies, thinking that’s what he was going do anyway. As he dresses, he glances at Georg, who is wearing a chunky knitted sweater and some jeans that are frayed at the bottom. There’s something about rainy nights that makes people drag out their old comfy clothes, unfashionable though they may be.

“So, Georg, what were you doing before I came over and interrupted you?” Tom queries, untangling his damp hair with a comb Georg lent him. “Jerking off?”

Tom is only jesting but Georg’s ears turn pink. Luckily, the gleam of the candles is not bright enough to highlight his minor embarrassment. The dildo is securely hidden at the back of his bedside drawer, beneath a pile of underwear. Tom won’t find it unless he is specifically looking for it and he’s not likely to go digging around in Georg’s shorts anytime soon.

“I was reading,” Georg explains, gesturing to the book on the floor. “Are you gonna be warm enough? Do you want any more clothes?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Sitting on the couch while putting on the borrowed socks, Tom is grateful he has such a generous friend. With thick socks on his feet and dry clothes on his lanky frame, he doesn’t feel so much like a drowned rat anymore. He picks up the Stephen King book and reads the back of it. Though it sounds interesting, reading is not something Tom does very well. He’s never gotten through a book in his life. The only things he ever gets through are scripts. He knows that Georg loves to read. The guy can often be spotted on set with his nose buried in the pages of some lengthy novel.

About the book, Tom queries, “Any good?” He doesn’t really care; he’s just making conversation.

“Yeah. It’s not bad,” Georg answers, plonking down next to Tom. “You wanna borrow it?”

Setting the book aside, Tom says, “I’ll pass. I’d never get through that. Look at how fuckin’ thick it is. Beats me how you read one of those a week.”

“A lot of practice,” Georg fills him in. “I’ve been reading since before I went to school. My mom taught me. She’s a primary school teacher.”

“Well, I dunno what my mom’s doing now – probably mooching off her rich new husband – but my dad’s a sergeant major in the Army,” Tom casually lets slip.

“A sergeant major?” Georg stares at Tom. The kid does not look like he’s got a father holding a high position of authority in the armed forces. Just look at all the piercings and long hair.

“I take it he’s not very strict with you, then,” Georg comments.

“Oh, he used to be when I was younger. Very strict,” Tom stresses. “But I kept rebelling and he finally gave up and let me do whatever I wanted to. Now, we have a mutually beneficial arrangement. I don’t bug him and he doesn’t bug me. He’s just glad I’m not in jail. Or dead.”

Georg half-smiles. Tom doesn’t talk much about his family so it’s nice when he does. One member of his family Tom hardly mentions is his mother but that’s only because she’s not around. All Georg knows is that she left Tom and Tom’s dad and ran off with some other guy years ago to live a childfree life of luxury. Though he is curious about the woman who gave birth to Tom, Georg won’t ask for any more information on her because he’s sure Tom will get angry about her intentional disappearance.

Instead, he grins at Tom to lighten the mood. “You nearly got yourself dead tonight, kid, running through the storm like a human lightning rod. What were you thinking?”

“I guess I wasn’t,” Tom acknowledges sheepishly, realising how dangerous that stunt was now. “I just wanted to see you.”

“And I’m glad you’re here, my little storm chaser,” Georg teases. “What were you doing before you got bored, anyway?”

Tom shrugs. “Nothing much. I was just working on my music.”

“Got anything I can hear?” Georg questions.

“Um...” Tom fiddles with his earring, not sure about that idea. “I guess. You really wanna hear one of my songs?”

“Yeah,” Georg enthuses. “Sing me something. Serenade me.” At Tom’s hesitation, he entices, “C’mon, Tom. Don’t be shy in front of me. I’ve seen you naked, remember? In fact, I just saw you naked two minutes ago.”

When Tom sits there undecided, wondering why Georg has taken a sudden interest in his musical ability, Georg adds sweetly, “Please?”

Reluctantly, Tom says, “Well, I would if I had my guitar. It’s hard to sing with no back up music.”

As if he just remembers something, Georg jumps off the couch, goes into the bedroom, reaches into the back of his closet and comes back with an acoustic guitar in his hands. “Here you go,” he says, handing the instrument to his somewhat astounded co-star, along with a red plastic pick. “I know it’s not electric but will this do?”

“Uh, yeah. It’ll do fine. So, you can play?” Tom asks with surprise in his face, hoisting the guitar onto his thighs. Georg’s never mentioned being able to play guitar before.

The older actor lifts one shoulder. “A little. I’m never gonna make a living out of it, though. Not like you will. Acting’s my thing, not music. It’s just a hobby, like those.” He indicates to a row of small wood carvings that are sitting on a shelf nearby, pieces that he’s made during the long breaks in shooting. There’s a wolf curled up with its pups, a grazing deer, a sleek dolphin, a fat, round hippo and a magnificent dragonfly sitting on a lily pad with its wings spread.

“Those are amazing,” Tom says in awe, staring up at the wooden creatures. “Look at how much detail you carve into them! I could never do anything like that. You should sell those, man.”

Georg smiles and shakes his head. “I give them away as gifts to people. I like making them and besides, I don’t need any more money.”

“You could give some of it to me,” Tom half-jokes, starting to tune the musical instrument across his lap, listening and adjusting the tone by ear. While he is plucking out notes with the pick, Georg’s eye is drawn to the boy’s adept fingers, long and strong, yet sensitive.

Satisfied the guitar is tuned properly, Tom clears his throat. “Right. Here’s a new one that nobody’s heard before. It’s a little something I call ‘Normal World’.”

The teenager pauses. He has flexed his vocal chords in front of crowds of complete strangers many times before and enjoyed the hell out of it but right then, about to sing in front of Georg, his co-star and secret lover who has seen him nude on multiple occasions, he feels oddly and frighteningly nervous. But he can’t back out of it. Georg is gazing at him expectantly with those keen green eyes. Tom avoids Georg’s stare and looks down, strumming the strings of the guitar, knowing he can do this if he just loses himself in the music.

When he starts singing, Tom’s voice isn’t perfect but it’s but perfect for the angsty, slow style of song and is strong enough not to be overshadowed by the rain and wind outside.

“In a normal world
You wouldn’t give me the time of day
In a normal world
You’d tell me to go away

But this world ain’t normal
And neither are we
Is it wrong, is it right?
It’s just a damn mystery...”

Picking out a haunting melody on the strings, Tom closes his eyes for the chorus, his voice roughening.

“I need you, I want you
I don’t even know why
If you ever left my world
A part of me would die.

You can do much better
You’re too good for someone like me
Why do you still wait here?
What is it that you see?”

Tom is frowning, as if the words are getting to him. He plays a few sad-sounding chords, swaying his head a little, eyes still shut. After repeating a few select lines and the chorus, Tom’s song comes to an end with a poignant verse.

“In a normal world
You wouldn’t give me the time of day
In a normal world
You’d tell me to go away

I can’t promise anything
Your heart’s not mine to kill
I don’t want to hurt you
But I’m afraid I will...”

As the last melancholy guitar note ripples through the air, Tom bows his head and goes silent. This is the part where the audience would clap and cheer for more, if he was onstage at a gig. But this is no gig. Tom’s alone in a trailer with Georg and the guy isn’t clapping. The young musician lifts his eyes and bashfully faces his co-star. At the intense way Georg is gazing at him, Tom bites his lip-piercing, feeling very vulnerable and self-conscious. Why did he choose THIS song? This is an extremely personal one. He has plenty of others he could have belted out confidently, but no, he had to pick this one. The one that he’s sure Georg can see right through to the true meaning.

“Well?” Tom prods, covering up his fear with nonchalance. “How bad did that suck?”

Unexpectedly, Georg punches him on the arm. “Don’t fucking say that! It was great, Tom. The emotions, the pain, the uncertainty and self-doubt...I could totally feel it all. I loved it!”

“Really?” Tom says anxiously, massaging the place on his limb where a bruise will surely bloom tomorrow. He hadn’t realized how important it was to him that Georg liked the song until that moment. And it seems the older man has no idea it’s actually about him.

“Would I lie to you, kid?” Georg appears a smidgen offended. “You got talent. Even if you’re not the lead singer in your band, I can still see that song being a number one chart topper on MTV, despite what Simon Cowell told you.”

“Thanks, man.” Tom smiles shyly at the praise. “I needed to hear that. I get a little discouraged sometimes.”

“Well, don’t be. You’ll get there eventually,” Georg returns reassuringly, knowing how badly Tom wants to make something of his music and his band. “It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

“I hope so,” Tom replies in a yearning tone, dreaming of playing to a stadium full of screaming fans holding up signs with his name on it. He dreams of signing autographs in record stores with lines of people going out the door. He’d love to sit in a recording studio, mixing his own stuff and being his own boss, along with Bill of course, because without her, there is no band. She’s written just as many songs as Tom has and they always collaborate on each piece together. But if he could do that for a living, just make and play music, Tom would be a very happy man.

Just then, the power comes back on and all the lights in the trailer blaze brightly, as does the television, blaringly loud. Tom slits his eyes at the stark brightness, scrunching his face up unhappily.

“Aww. I liked it with just the candles,” he complains.

Wholeheartedly agreeing with Tom, Georg gets up and goes around switching all the lights back off, and the TV too, until they are in semi-darkness once more and the only thing they can hear is the rain. It has settled down a lot outside within the last few minutes and the hailstones, thunder and lightning have ceased. Georg has a peek out the window and sees with the studio lot’s streetlamps that the worst of it has indeed passed. He makes sure the radiator is on to give Tom’s damp clothes a chance to dry and then he turns to look upon his long-haired lover, finding him sitting there rubbing his arms, the guitar set down on the floor. Georg walks over and tugs on his sleeve.

“C’mon, you’re getting into bed with me, kid. You need warming up,” he instructs. When Tom shoots him a suspicious squint, he holds up a pacifying hand. “I’m not gonna try anything funny, all right? I’m just going to hug you, I promise.”

“No sex?”

“No sex. Not unless you really want it.”

“Well, I don’t.”

At Tom’s protest, Georg placates, “Okay, then. We’re on the same page. Now, hurry up before you turn into a six foot tall icicle.” Georg offers his hand to the younger actor.

Finally taking his word for it, Tom accepts the proffered hand and lets himself be led into the bedroom. Good thing Georg changed his sheets earlier otherwise they’d be resting in a wet spot made up of his own sperm and splodges of mango-scented lube. No doubt Ria the maid will discover that when she comes to collect his laundry next. Poor girl – Georg really should start tipping her more.

Together the two co-stars get under the clean covers of the bed, Georg enfolding Tom in his arms and rubbing the boy’s back. They lie on their sides, legs entwined. Georg shares his body heat with Tom, even letting the kid’s icy hands slide under his sweater so that they can thaw.

“Warm?” Georg murmurs a little while later. Tom snuggles into him and sighs blissfully.

“Mmm. Very warm,” he mumbles. “You make a good hot water bottle, G.”

“Glad I can be of service,” Georg replies with a kiss to the top of Tom’s head, thinking how thankful he is that Mad, Crazy Tom sprinted over here, risking death by lightning strike just to visit him. Being close with Tom, feeling the beautiful boy’s living, breathing body in his embrace...This is the stuff that matters in life. The two lovers remain hugging, not needing to talk, and listen to the rain together until they fall asleep, bathed in the soft golden glow of the candles.

………

Tom doesn’t disturb Georg when he gets out of bed early in the morning and collects his dried clothing. It’s not raining anymore and all the candles have burnt out. The sky is beginning to turn grey and lighten up. Tom very gently kisses his slumbering co-star on the temple before he quietly leaves.

Georg wakes up near daybreak to find himself alone under the blankets. Tom has left him and gone back to his own trailer. Feeling lonely in his big empty bed, he hugs a pillow and then, smelling Tom’s scent on it, Georg smiles dreamily and waits for his alarm to go off.
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Improvisation