Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. The use of famous persons (members of Tokio Hotel) within the storyline is not meant to cause any harm; Hustler Magazine, Inc. v. Falwell, 485 U.S. 46 (1988).

Warning: Alternate Universe, non-Related Twincest, Homoerotic themes, language, and psychological angst.


Three Magic Words

"You okay?" asked officer Martinez.

"Yeah, but I can't wait 'til this is over," Tom breathed. He was covered in mud and what he really hoped wasn't dog shit.

"He didn't bite you, did he?"

"No. I think he was just excited to get the fuck out of here. That's why he jumped for me."

"Yeah, I hear ya," nodded Martinez. "I'm just glad the owner was finally willing to give up most of these animals. My team should be done with her for a while. Well, minus any court hearings in the future. You on the other hand…"

"I know," Tom groaned and shut his eyes for a moment.

"I've gotta go back in there."

"Good luck, buddy. You're gonna need it."

"Sure. Thanks…"

Mrs. Craig was still arguing with an animal control officer when Tom found her in the backyard. It was muddy back there, but she didn't seem to have a problem walking around in her house shoes.

"No, no. Jeffrey doesn't like that! Don't hold him by the scruff!"

"I thought you said the other one was Jeffrey," Officer Kale replied.

"Oh…" the woman paused for a moment, taking a closer look at the animal in question. "Well, then this must be—Charles. Yes, this one is Charles. He probably doesn't mind," she shook her head.

"Thank you," Kale gave an exhausted smile and placed another cat into a carrier. There was no way in hell, this lady knew the names of all 37 cats and 11 dogs that lived on her property.

"Mrs. Craig," Tom announced his presence. "Why don't we talk for a minute."

"Call me, Danielle. You thirsty? I have lemonade," she asked while walking back toward the porch.

"Uh, no, thank you." He barely wanted to breathe the air in her house, let alone digest anything from it.

They sat in the living room while Danielle nibbled on animal crackers and sipped lemonade. Tom could see a few cat hairs stuck to the rim of her glass and he felt pleased with himself for declining her offer. But what really made him cringe was the furry, greasy mess that spun around on the ceiling fan over his head. Had it ever been cleaned? She seemed offended by the hospital mask he had opted to wear during their conversation, but he could care less. Besides, she needed to get real when it came to how severe her circumstances had become and he wasn't willing to beat around the bush about it.

"So you wanna take all my stuff, huh?" the woman asked defensively. "Do you know how many years it took me to get all this stuff?"

"I wanna help you out of your addiction and if that means selling, donating, or trashing things that you don't need, then yes. I want to remove a lot of those possessions from your home."

"What if I don't want your help? What if I just want to clean up on my own?"

"Have you ever tried to clean up before?"

"Of course I have. Why, just the other day I threw out lots of stuff."

"Oh, yeah. I can tell," Tom replied sarcastically and gestured to the filth that surrounded them. His client seemed angry as she struggled to think of a worthy comeback. "Look, I'm not here to beat you down. I'm here to help you up. But if all of this works for you, getting animals taken away, losing your home, possibly facing jail time; okay then. But if you would like a shot at a better quality of life, I will be your friend. Cause this isn't easy, is it?" Tom softened his tone. He'd didn't mean to start out so crudely, but her house and her attitude problem could drive anyone to aggression.

"No," the woman admitted. She looked like she might cry. "I used to have other friends…lots of them. But they abandoned me," Danielle affirmed angrily.

"Or maybe they loved you. And seeing you like this really hurt them."
There was a thoughtful pause between Tom and his client.

"But what if you help me and it doesn't work? What if I can't be helped?" Fear of failure. It was a common theme among hoarders.

"It's like that old saying, there's no chance unless you take one."

"Yeah, I guess that does make a lot of sense. Where'd you hear that from?"

"Popsicle stick," Tom nodded lightly.

"Oh. Well, it's still pretty good advice. Alright, I'll take a chance with you. But not too quickly, okay? I'm kinda nervous right now and, and…"

"Today, I'm just here to introduce myself. What we do and when is up to you."

"Well, I got another notice in the mail. It says I've got six days before the law starts taking action."

"Then, we'll do it in five," Tom shrugged. "And you're not alone in this. I just met with another client this morning. Many people suffer from chronic hoarding. That's why I'm here to help, alright?" The mask still covered his mouth, but Danielle could tell that the blond was smiling by his eyes.

"Okay," she smiled back. "Five days."

When it was time to Leave, Tom couldn't smell anything anymore. His nose hairs had long burned off by the ammonia smell from the cat pee. But it was an odor he'd learn to get used to. For the next week, he and clean-up crew found themselves battling the debris inside Mrs. Craig's home. It had been painful. She cried everyday because all of her stuff had to be thrown away. No single donation or sale could be made due to the poor condition of every item.

"Can't we just hose it off? Someone could use this?" she plead over and over again. Watching as all of her belongings had their value questioned, she felt as if her value was being questioned too. But there really wasn't much you could do for a microwave that couldn't pass any portion of the SCUM test or a sofa with holes in it where the cats had been nesting. And those were the nicer items.

By day six, there was almost nothing left in the Craig home. Tom showed up bright and early just as the Sherriff arrived to evaluate the progress.

"Looks good. So she's cured now. No more problems, right?" asked the Sherriff.

"No, probably not," Tom shook his head honestly. "But we do bi-yearly inspections and she's agreed to meet with a therapist on a regular basis."

"Well, you're the expert, I guess. But she's still got a court date."

"I'll be there,"

"I made you some cookies, Tom," Danielle whispered, not wanting the Sheriff to hear while he continued to look around her home. She didn't like him.

"Cookies…oh…" the blond tried his best not to look disgusted. "Well, thank you," he smiled and accepted the plastic wrapped plate.

"Talk too you soon!"

"Yeah okay. Ewe…" he muttered that last part. But it wasn't the first time a client had given him a gift like this and he knew just how to handle it. At work, he put it in the lounge next to the coffee machine and left a bright post-it note on top with his name and "don't touch," written in big letters.

At lunch, Gustav stood in the doorway, watching as everyone else stole Tom's cookies and made jokes about it. He was eating a cookie too, but not from that pile. He knew better.

"Those are poison, right?" he asked when Tom walked by.

"Yep."

The blond had one more case for the day with a very orderly, but neurotic woman at the William's house.

"And this one, I got it at the 1964 World Fair in Springfield," explained Merriam as she gave Tom a grand tour of her living room. A million eyes stared back at him. She was a doll collector. "I named her Molly. She looks like a Molly, doesn't she?" the woman asked while fiddling with the doll's red hair. "Molly the dolly! Oh, that just tickles me," she laughed. But Tom didn't find anything funny about this situation. He'd never been the type to be afraid of porcelain clowns, ventriloquist dummies or to even flinch at movies like Child's Play. This case however, could change all that.

"The eyes…they sort of follow you around the room, don't they?" he asked. Every wall was equipped with dozens of display shelves and it began to feel like they were closing in on him.

"Yeah, I guess they do! Isn't that comforting? It's like you're never really alone."

"Right…"


It was 5 o'clock by the time Tom got back to the office, just a half an hour to go before closing.

Gustav found Tom sitting in his cubicle, just fiddling with one of those erotic pens that has a girl inside who becomes topless when you turn it upside down.

"Workin' hard or hardly workin'?" he asked Tom smugly.

"Don't judge me," the blond began, without ever taking his eyes off of the pen. "I just spent the last three hours combing doll hair and arranging them in boxes with bubble wrap."

"Oh, that's right, the William's case," Gus smiled. "Did she make you use one of those wittle pink Barbie combs?"

"Fuck off."

"Awe. Did you wike it?"

"You know, the only way I could even convince her to get rid of them was if I could find a Children's hospital who would accept them as a donation or something. So next weekend, I have to go back, finish packing them all up then, ship them to some unsuspecting child and his or her friends," Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Poor bastards," Gustav teased, but the other man didn't seem to be amused in the least. "Listen, why don't you take off early?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage the last thirty minutes here by myself," Gus rolled his eyes. "I mean it'll be a stretch but…"

"Alright, alright. I'm outta here."

Small or not, Tom was grateful for the extra free time. There was some unfinished business to take care of with Bill and both of them had been avoiding the subject since its creation. So far they'd only spoken briefly over the phone about their last encounter, opting to save that conversation for a better, less busy, more convenient time, but it was just one excuse after another. And although it probably went without saying, whatever had happened between them that night couldn't happen anymore and he needed to be clear about that.

Tom skipped his usual exit on the highway and continued until he was close to Shenandoah. The lush trees and decrease of heavy traffic told him he was near. Pulling up to Bill's place, he was surprised to see the other man out in the front yard, just staring up at his home. It took a minute for him to realize that a car had driven up, but when he did, the brunette worked up a small smile.

"Hey," he waved.

"What's going on? Why are you outside?" asked the blond as he met Bill on the sidewalk.

"I can't go back in there. It's too…crowded. I think I'm gonna stay in a hotel tonight. I was just about to leave before you pulled up."

"Wait, back up. You can't go in the house because there's too much stuff? How long have you felt this way?" Tom asked; his expression changing with concern.

"It's no big deal. I just get like this sometimes. I start to feel like, like I don't belong. Like all the stuff has finally pushed me out." It scared Tom to hear this. Abandoning one's home to seek comfort someplace else was a coping mechanism that very few hoarders actually allowed themselves to sink to and when they did, it was almost irreversible. Sometimes it started with a client just leaving their home occasionally to stay with friends, family or in hotels for temporary relief. Eventually, most would run out of money or wear out their welcomes. But Bill was wealthy. He could buy an entirely new home to fill up and as crazy as that idea was, other hoarders had done and Bill might too.

"Anyway, I better get a move on. It's a holiday tomorrow and the hotels lose their vacancy pretty quickly the night before."

"No. Stop giving away your power. You own the stuff in the house, not the other way around."

"Easier said than done," Bill shrugged. "I'm sorry, Tom." He backed off slowly, turning toward the white car in his driveway.

"Please?" the blond tried again as he watched his client settle into the VW and adjust his seatbelt. If they'd been inside, he could have tackled the other man and tried smacking some sense into him again, but because they were on the front lawn, Tom had to be on best behavior. He watched helplessly as Bill put the key in the ignition, yet to Tom's delight, the engine wouldn't turn over.

"Shit…" that word had come out louder that he'd meant it to.

"Car trouble?" Tom smiled his way over. For once, he was happy that Bill had hung onto his boyfriend's old VW.

"No. It just needs a little…" Bill stopped mid-sentence as he tried starting up the vehicle again. After the third try, the engine powered up. "See!" he grinned while shifting into reverse. "I told y—fuck!" The engine cut out again. "Okay, okay. I know what to do," he said, flipping a few stray hairs out of his face and trying a different method. But now it seemed as if his situation had somehow worsened.

"You're flooding it…" Tom teased in a sing-song voice. "Face it, this thing's a lemon."

"Fine!" Bill gave up and slammed the car door after climbing out. "I can always call a cab," he explained smugly and began thumbing a few numbers on his cell phone."

"Or…" the other man started as he snatched the device away.

"Hey!"

"…how about we go for a drive? We can talk and it'll give you some time to think about why running away from your problems only makes them worse," Tom said softly. "How come all that stuff gets to have a home, but you don't? Why are you the one that has to leave?" Bill was practically making himself homeless, couldn't he see that?

"Fuck, there you go making sense again…" the brunette folded his arms in a huff. Tom was smiling at him. "Don't fucking looking at me like that, you asshole," he rolled his eyes. "Just take me somewhere already."

"Where would you like to go?"

"Anywhere. Anywhere but here."

Tom must have lapped the city at least twice before either of them even started to notice how much time had passed, but he didn't mind. It had only later occurred to him that he wasn't getting paid for this 'session' and he'd killed about fifteen dollars worth of gas already, but that was okay too.

"You feeling any better?" asked the blond.

"Sort of. But…I think I still wanna get a hotel room, even if just for one night. I'm sorry, Tom. I know you really tried."

"That's alright. It was worth a shot."

"Would you stay with me?"

"I dunno, Bill. We might…"

"No, we won't. It doesn't have to happen again. I just don't wanna be alone. And you already look so tired. Do you really wanna have to drive me home, then drive all the way back to your place? Let's just get a room somewhere."

"Well…" Tom started to say. "But I'll have to get ready for work tomorrow and—,"

"It's okay. I understand," Bill interrupted, suddenly aware of how selfish and needy his behavior must have seemed.

"But you could always…" Tom's voice trailed off, surprised at what he was about to suggest.

"Always what?"

"I live around here. You could always stay at my place. And I can drop you off at home on my way to work in the morning. It's just one night," he reasoned.

Bill thought about it for a moment.

"Can we stop at the supermarket first? I need to buy a toothbrush or something."

Tom made a left turn toward a local grocery store and from that moment, the line had been crossed, the very fine line that was struggling to separate his professional life from the personal. Bill was coming home with him.

They parked and went their separate ways in the supermarket. Bill headed down the toiletry aisle, while his life-coach carried a small basket toward the frozen food section. He hoped that Bill liked Palermo brand lasagna "Now with new and improved taste!" 'cause that's exactly what they were having for dinner. Afterward, he went looking for Bill and wound up in the pharmacy area. Throwing some aspirin into his basket, he couldn't help but notice the row of condoms gleaming at him from the next shelf. He didn't have any at home.

Pulling a blue box down from the rack, Tom told himself that he was only doing it replenish his stock for general use in the future, but that was just a lie. He wanted to fuck Bill into the mattress tonight and that meant being ready for it.

"Ultra-thin, huh?" asked a stray voice. Tom's heart fluttered as he turned to one side. "Yeah, I always get those kind too," Gus nodded his head and pulled down the very same box of condoms for himself. Tom couldn't say anything, too many scenarios were running through his head at the moment and he was afraid of accidentally giving one away. "So you got a date tonight? Is she or—he with you," the other man questioned while looking around.

"No," Tom's voice finally came to him. "I'm here by myself," he finished quickly and put the condoms back.

"Well, whatever you're up to tonight, make sure that you wake up on time tomorrow. I've got another meeting planned in the morning."

"Yeah, sure, alright. Uh, I gotta go. Take it easy," Tom finished and turned in whatever direction might lead him away from his friend soonest. He finally caught up with Bill in a 10 item or less line.

"Hey," the brunette smiled. I was wondering where you were. "Your face looks flush. What's wrong?"

"Gus is here."

"Oh…" Bill suddenly paled.

"What've you got there, just a toothbrush and mouthwash? Take my keys and go wait in the car. I'll pay for everything. I don't want him to see us together."

"Right," the other man nodded and quickly made his way to the car.

Feeling as if he had narrowly escaped the chopping block, Tom left the store relieved that he had abandoned the condom idea. He risked seeming like a hypocrite if Bill were to know that he'd bought them just for this occasion, or feeling like an ass if Bill wasn't interested. Worse, he risked looking like a total jerk who had only invited Bill over for sex under the guise of friendship.

At home, they ate dinner like ordinary friends, talking, sharing stories about work. Bill didn't seem the least bit affected by the fact they'd slept together and that made Tom a little sad, but it was probably for the better. The blond's interest in his life was beginning to consume him and if he couldn't control those feelings himself, he was glad that Bill could.

Bill looked nice in one of the baggy shirts that he'd borrowed for the night from Tom's infinite collection. The blond was a hoarder himself in that respect and he liked the idea of Bill going to bed draped in something that belonged to him.

The sleeping arrangements were very platonic. Bill took the bedroom while Tom made himself uncomfortable on the living room sofa. The clock on his cable box glowed 12:21. He tried to relax himself by doing what he always did when he needed to sleep. Tom reached a hand into his boxers and started stroking, gently fingering the tip of his penis until small drops of semen began to dribble from the head. He put his fingers to his mouth and sucked them. It felt so good and he wanted to finish, but his body was finally comfortable. It was time to get some rest.

Tom was startled awake and blinked his eyes in the darkness. The cable box glowed 12:57.

"Can we?" begged a small voice as weight settled on top of the blond's body.

"Bill?" Tom questioned. He reached out to feel the bare legs that straddled his hips and smooth buttocks. Whatever had become of the boxers he'd given Bill to wear was a mystery. All he could feel now was the big shirt that held Bill's modesty, but that curtain was slowly being pulled upward, up, up over his head.

"So can we?" the brunette whispered again, his question answered by a kiss.

Tom rolled his tongue in Bill's mouth. He was such an oral person by nature, it was a shame he didn't get to kiss Bill more often.

"Shit…" the blond cursed himself after pulling away abruptly. "I, I don't have any condoms," he exhaled. They had been in his hand just a few hours earlier and now there wasn't a single foil wrapper in the house thanks to Gustav's accidental intrusion.

Bill stroked up and down the side of his arm before saying the three magic words.

"I trust you." It was better than I love you. Trust was something that Tom dealt with on a daily basis and if anyone knew how hard it was to genuinely convince one human being to submit that feeling over to another human being, it was him. Love was something that just happened, trust had to be earned and Bill was the type that didn't trust anybody. "Did you here me?" Bill asked softly when Tom didn't respond for a while.

"I trust you too," the blond admitted. "Let's do it."


This will likely be the last chapter I post on fanfiction : ( However! I continue to keep posting on Tokiohotelfiction : ) I'm on that site more often, so it just makes more sense for me to post there in the future. Thanks for all the reads and I hope you keep reading my fic!