Chalice

"Tom, I'm home!"

Bill set his bag down by the door and tossed his keys on the table. A delicious smell hit his nose and he smiled.

"Are you actually cooking?"

Tom came out of the kitchen in just a pair of jeans. He looked excited and pleased with himself.

"I'm making manicotti. So far, only two have overflowed and burned." Oh yeah. He was excited. Making manicotti correctly was something Tom had always wanted to do.

Bill made a whining noise and hugged Tom. "You're cooking shirtless? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I live life on the edge."

Bill ignored him. "You could burn your tummy and chest!"

"I will be fine!"

Bill stamped his foot, crossed his arms, and pouted at Tom.

"Don't look at me like that."

Bill's gaze intensified by about eight levels.

"Bill."

Bill pointed towards their bedroom. 

Tom groaned. "Fine, Mother. I'll go put a shirt on."

Bill smiled and walked into the kitchen as Tom trudged up the stairs. Upon entering the kitchen, Bill scoffed. Tom had somehow used every pot and pan he could have gotten his hands on; the kitchen was a complete mess.

He plodded over to the counter and started putting things in the dishwasher. He jolted when he felt arms around his waist.

"Warn a person! Jeez, Tom, you about gave me a heart attack!"

"You've found my secret plot."

"Don't know why you would want to kill me, I don't have life insurance."

"You don't?"

Bill shook his head. "We haven't gotten around to it. You have life insurance, though. I think it's because you 'live life on the edge' and are stupid about it."

"Interesting. We need to get you some soon."

"Why, so you can kill me and get the money?"

"Duh."

Bill smiled, then gently swatted Tom's hands away from his waist. "Finish cooking, I'll load the dishwasher."

~+~

"May I ask where you got these amazing cooking skills?"

"Please, I've always had them."

"Honey, I still have the nasty aftertaste in my mouth of that awful ketchup spaghetti sauce you made back in college. You do not have regular cooking skills, let alone good cooking skills."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I actually read the recipe this time."

Bill nodded and took a sip of wine. "Good. And you're still not allowed to beer batter fry anything anymore."

"The house did not burn down, if you recall."

"You ruined my favorite curtains!"

"Well, excuse me, then!"

Bill nudged Tom's foot. "You learned your lesson."

Tom smirked. "Remember what happened after that?"

Bill's smirk matched Tom's. "We argued, I slapped you and threatened divorce, and then we had very intense, angry sex."

"Could we possibly have a repeat of that tonight?"

"Sure, I can still slap pretty hard."

"I meant the sex."

"That depends."

"On?"

"How pissed I am and my blood alcohol level."

Tom nodded and grabbed the bottle of wine. He filled Bill's glass—which made Bill smile—and poked at Bill with his fork.

"See, it doesn't work if I know you're trying to piss me off."

"Well, shit, can't I just get you drunk?"

Bill smirked and picked up his wine glass. "Maybe."

~+~

Bill giggled absurdly, his brain thoroughly fuzzed. He wasn't going to lie to himself; he'd had every intention of getting drunk when dinner started. It wasn't that he needed to be drunk to have sex with Tom.

It was just that it was funnier when he was drunk. 

"Why are you laughing?" Tom asked with a smile, running his tongue along Bill's neck. He had him pressed up against the wall that connected their kitchen and living room.

"Because you're trying to eat me like I'm a Popsicle!" Bill slurred, laughing harder.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I am not trying to eat you, stupid."

Bill let his tongue fall lazily out of his mouth as Tom massaged his backside. "Can you try, but on another part?"

"I think I can manage."

Bill smiled and started giggling again. Tom smiled and looked at him. "What now?"

"You smell like Italian food."

Tom couldn't help but snort. "So do you, stupid."

"Yeah, but you smell like it more."

Tom started to laugh. Bill seemed very intent on winning the 'argument' and Tom thought that was just funny.

"I believe you, honey, I believe you."

Bill smiled languidly, then bent forward and caught Tom's lip ring in his teeth, pulling Tom forward. Tom sniggered and pressed his lips to Bill's, snaking his tongue into Bill's mouth.

"You know." Kiss. "If you." Kiss. "Wanted." Kiss. "To kiss me." Nip, kiss. "You simply." Kiss. "Had to ask." Nip, kiss, nip.

"There's absolutely no fun in that," Bill said, stupidly leaning forward on Tom. Tom lost his balance, latched onto Bill, and they both hit the floor with a dull thud.

Bill blinked. "Ow."

Tom sat up on his elbows. "The floor... It just jumped out of nowhere!"

Bill laughed so hard he thought he was going to puke.

Tom sat up and pulled Bill over to him, kissing his neck. "Didn't think you were drunk enough to find that funny."

"Not drunk," Bill corrected with a smile, still slurring. "Tipsy."

"I still say you're drunk," Tom murmured. Bill flicked his ear.

"All debates on the amount of alcohol on my system aside, weren't we working on something else?"

Tom smiled, then swiftly stood up, pulling Bill up bridal style. Bill made a high-pitched noise of surprise, laughed at the absurdity of the noise he had just made, then leaned over to nuzzle his nose onto Tom's cheek.

It was Tom's next move that made Bill start laughing again. Though they usually left their bedroom door open a sliver, Tom had accidentally closed it when he went to put a shirt on. He went to push it open with his shoulder, in too much of a hurry, and he was met with a solid, fighting force. His momentum stopped, but Bill's didn't, and they slammed their foreheads together.

"Some higher power doesn't want us to have sex," Tom whined, opening the door. Bill breathed in deeply, controlling his laughter, then pressed his lips to Tom's forehead. 

"Better?"

"A little more sugar never hurt anyone," Tom said with a grin. 

Bill bit his lip, smiled, then pressed his lips to Tom's forehead again.

"Oh, no, that simply won't do," Tom said, unceremoniously tossing Bill on the bed. Bill made a 'fuff' noise and sat up on his elbows, brushing his bangs out of his face.

"Now, was that necessary?"

Whether it was or not was never voiced, because Tom crawled on top of Bill, simultaneously sliding his hands up Bill's shirt, popping each button as he went. His mouth followed his hands dutifully, kissing Bill's stomach and chest, then up his throat and to his mouth. Bill moaned throatily and pulled Tom so his body was pressed right up against Bill's.

Tom bit down rather hard on Bill's neck and Bill groaned in frustration. "Don't do that!"

Tom bit right below the spot, ignoring Bill.

Bill tried to push Tom off. "Seriously, Tom, don't, I forgot to take my meds today!"

Tom immediately stopped and looked at Bill. "Are you kidding me? I have a reminder for you to take your blood meds every morning and night!"

Bill looked sheepish. "I know, I know, I'm sorry! I was in a hurry, and I thought I'd be okay today. I mean, I pretty much avoided all intense accidents."

Tom's face set like stone. He got off of Bill, stood up, and crossed his arms. "What do you mean, 'pretty much avoided'? What happened?"

Bill squirmed uncomfortably on the bed, twiddling his thumbs. "I kind of... um... ran into the edge of the staff room door."

Tom closed his eyes in exasperation. "Show me, right now. I want to see how bad it is. And don't try to tell me you didn't look at it."

Bill sighed, stood up, and slid his shirt all the way off his body. He turned around. 

If Tom had been expecting Bill's back to look like anything, it wasn't this. Starting from the top of Bill's left shoulder blade down to where his ribs ended was a dark bruise that had an inky black line down the center of it, the skin around it a mottled purple and blue color. Tom gently ran a hand down the line and sighed.

"This would have been sixty times less intense if you had just taken your meds. What if the door had cut into you, then what would you have done?"

"I'd have gotten someone to help me with my clotting factor, that's what I would have done. I have it with me everywhere I go, Tom."

Tom sighed again. "That's not the point, Bill."

Bill turned around and put his arms around Tom's shoulders. Tom felt a pang of guilt when he saw the bite marks on Bill's neck turn a dark raspberry color. "I know you worry about me, baby, but I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. Hell, I did everything by myself for almost nineteen years without your help."

"Almost?"

"I was an infant at one point, Tom. Remember, I was born with this."

Tom looked at Bill and smiled. "I won't stop worrying over you, you know."

"I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, I believe we were in the middle of something?"

"Were we?" Tom smirked as Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Let me jog your memory: fuck me, right here, right now. Bruises be damned."

"I guess I could manage that."

~+~

Bill stood in front of the bathroom sink, wet hair slicked back, towel around his waist, head tilted to the side. He stared at the two bruises (they may as well have been one, they meshed together to form an eight) given to him by Tom's teeth. He tapped his fingers against his hip and sighed.

"Fuck you, easy-bruising body. Fuck you, luscious Tom teeth. Fuck you, evilly visible neck. And fuck you severe, hemophilia A."

"That's a lot of fucking going on. Reminds me of last night."

Bill looked over at Tom, who had just appeared in the bathroom doorway. Bill pointed angrily at his neck.

"Do you see what you did to me?"

Tom rolled his eyes, walked over to Bill, and poked the top of the bruise on his back. Bill flinched. "Do you see what you did to yourself?"

"That's different. I can hide that."

"So wear a scarf, I know you have them."

"It's eighty degrees outside!"

"So wear one of those silk yarn ones, whatever the hell they're called. Besides, knowing coastal weather, it will drop down today and be foggy. Why the hell did we move here anyway?"

"Because I love this city, I got a teaching job here, and it's not far from where you work either?"

"Just go put the scarf on."

Bill grimaced. "Fine. Let me sweat away my already low body weight."

"Okay, I will."

Bill rolled his eyes and walked out of the bathroom while Tom got in the shower. He dug through his closet, really not wanting to wear a scarf, cursing to himself. If Tom hadn't given him great sex last night, he wouldn't have even spoken to him.

He felt it only fair. Even if it was partially Bill's fault.

But he had taken his meds that morning, and he was going to take them dutifully every morning and night, like he was supposed to. He had been doing it for so long that he wasn't even bothered by the needle anymore, whereas when he was a child he screamed bloody murder every time he had to take them.

Bill's hemophilia was kept in check with self-administered injections of a drug that resembled DDAVP—what physicians jokingly called 'DDAVP's little brother'—but was used in moderation, could be taken twice a day, and could be used to treat hemophilia A patients. It was effective at keeping Bill from bleeding in his joints and kept his nosebleeds and bruising down, but it wasn't 100 percent efficient. Every so often his elbows or wrists would swell slightly and indicate the internal bleeding, or he'd get a wicked nosebleed that left him lightheaded, but a quick injection of his on-the-spot clotting factor or a trip to the doctor in the case of the joint bleeding easily fixed it.

The only thing it kept away entirely, something which Bill was grateful for, was the possibility of bleeding in the brain, which could happen if Bill hit his head, which he seemed to do a lot, because it caused the most problems. He'd had a seizure because of that very symptom when he was seven because he had lied to his mother, not taken the drugs, and then accidentally ran into his family's sliding glass door. 

He tried to be as careful as possible after that.

He blushed when he remembered his very first date with Tom back in college. They'd had a nice dinner, Tom took him to a Flamenco lesson, which had made him smile, and they'd ended the night with a not-so-perfect kiss. With the combination of Bill's almost-constant blushing and racing heart, his nose had started to bleed the second Tom pressed his lips to Bill's and Bill didn't realize until it was too late.

Tom laughed about it now; Bill was still mortified by it. It had taken about ten minutes to get Bill's nosebleed to stop because he was so flustered he couldn't remember where he kept his kit, and Tom had only laughed at Bill's constant apologies.

He, apparently, felt there was no need to apologize, especially after Bill explained his hemophilia. After all, Tom had reasoned, it wasn't as if he had forced himself to bleed on Tom.

Bill sighed, then felt his hand wander over a thin, grey sweater with a turtleneck. He smiled and grabbed the hanger, searched around for his black jeans and then threw the outfit on his bed as he picked out accessories and put on a pair of underwear. He pulled on his jeans, slid a simple leather belt through the loops, and put some deodorant on. He smiled and walked back in the bathroom, wiping some steam off the bathroom mirror.

"Hey Tom, you know what I just realized?"

Tom pulled back the shower curtain and stuck his head out. "What? And you look sexy, by the way."

Bill smiled. "Thank you. I realized that yesterday I only wanted to sit with you and have you rub my back and we ended up having sex."

Tom blinked. "Would you rather have had your back rubbed?"

"Well, it would have meant I could have avoided wearing a turtleneck today, but-" Bill sprayed a glob of mousse in his hands and began working it into his hair. "-I like the choice we made."

Tom smiled and continued with his shower while Bill blow dried his hair.

When his hair was finished, Bill grabbed his can of hairspray, looked down at it, then made a face of disapproval as he put it back and grabbed a hair band, nimbly twisting his hair into a low ponytail. He walked back out of the bathroom and finished dressing.

By the time Bill finished, Tom had come out of the bathroom with a low-slung towel around his waist. Bill rolled his eyes when Tom gave him a 'come hither' look and Tom laughed.

"That used to make you drop your pants like nobody's business."

"That look made me drop my pants like nobody's business when we had sex for the first time, idiot. I was eager and very, very horny. It hasn't worked since our honeymoon."

"How about a second honeymoon, then?"

Bill rolled his eyes again and threw a pair of Tom's underwear at him. "Get dressed. I'm off."

He walked over, gave Tom a short kiss, grabbed his computer and his bag, and headed out the door. Seeing that he had plenty of time, he decided to run by the local coffee shop. No reason not to.

~+~

Bill walked into his first period Econ class, coffee cup in one hand, computer in the other. He'd underestimated the time it took to get to the shop and back and he was a few minutes late to class. 

"I apologize to everyone for being late, I'm a ditz. I hope you all behaved without me, Anthony." Bill shot a smile to the class troublemaker.

Anthony held his hands up. "I have no idea why you're staring at me."

"Innocent is not a look you should wear, Anthony," Bill said with a bigger smile, and the class laughed.

Bill quickly took role call, then clapped his hands together. "So, what page did we leave off on yesterday?"

"427, Mr. K."

"Ah yes, thank you. Now, to continue what we started on yesterday..."

Bill's lecture lasted maybe five minutes. It would have lasted longer had he not reached up, pulled his collar down without thinking, and scratched at his neck. Someone let out a low wolf-whistle, another a loud catcall.

"Jesus, Mr. K, is your husband a vampire?"

Bill tilted his head to the side in confusion for a moment before realizing that he had just showed off his very large, dark bruises. He sighed and put his collar up. 

"I know that you all know that I have hemophilia, you've seen me get nosebleeds and have to inject myself."

"So where did the bruises come from? I didn't know people could kiss that hard."

"Danielle, isn't it obvious? He and his husband were bumping uglies last night!"

The class laughed. The girl, Danielle, looked undeterred.

"So, what, his husband did his neck?"

"I think I want to hear Mr. K tell this story!"

Bill was an open individual, and everyone knew this. And it only heightened his openness because Tom didn't care if he discussed his sex life. But Bill had other plans for today.

"Come on, guys, my sex life isn't as important as you guys learning economics! We don't want a repeat of the Great Depression of the 1930s, or the Fall of the Dollar in 2009!"

Protests erupted. Their curiosity was piqued; they wanted to know what exactly their teacher did last night. Bill sighed, looked at the board where he had been writing notes, then looked back at the class. He was fighting a losing battle.

"Screw it; you're ahead of the other Econ class anyway." Bill erased the board, rolled his chair out to the front of the room, and sat down in it, crossing his legs. "You're all mature enough to know that my husband and I have sex, you're not like the freshmen who think that once you get married, you never have sex again."

The class laughed.

"So. What do you want to know?"

"Where did the bruises come from? You never said!"

"I skipped my meds yesterday morning and that means I bruise way more easily than I normally do. My husband simply bit at my neck, which he usually doesn't do, but hey, no use brooding over it."

"Is this like some kind of open discussion?"

Bill put the tips of his fingers together. "No, this is some kind of 'ask me any question and I'll answer' discussion. By hands, no shouting out, I don't have bionic ears."

Bill pointed at a dark-haired male in the third row whose hand hit the air. 

"How long have you and your husband been together?"

"A little over three years, from when we began dating. We met in college, and that was that."

A tall girl with a pixie haircut raised her hand. "When was the first time you actually did it?"

Bill licked his lips. He had to think about that. He held up three fingers. "Our third official date. We'd been kind of exclusive for about a month and a half and we just figured what the hell. It didn't help that we were both horny nineteen-year-olds."

A hand shot up. "Did you guys use protection?"

"We did. I'm not sure why, though, but we did."

"Do you still use it?"

Bill smiled and shook his head. "I think we stopped using it the third time we had sex. We had gotten tested, came back clean as a hospital OR, and just stopped using them. Haven't used a condom since."

"Who takes?"

Everyone looked expectantly at Bill. They had never actually seen Tom, just the pictures that Bill had tacked up on his corkboard, and they wanted to know who did what.

Bill raised his pierced eyebrow. "Tom outweighs me by a good thirty pounds of muscle. I may be taller, but I'm a stick-thin rail. I am also the only one in the relationship who wears false eyelashes and eyeliner. Need I say more?"

He didn't need to say more, but they wanted him to. "Have you ever topped?"

"Twice. The first time, we were drunk out of our minds and couldn't remember anything."

"How did you know then?"

"Tom walked funny for few days afterwards. Sex gets very, very rushed and sloppy when you're smashed."

The class burst into laughter. 

"The second time, we made the choice sober, and we both found we didn't like it."

"Why?"

"Because, and this is a bit of... I don't know, maybe advice, for all the males in this room, straight or otherwise. When something hits your prostate, it's a feeling incomparable to anything I have ever felt before. I'd much rather feel that than anything else."

A few girls giggled, a few guys went dark red. Apparently, prostates were taboo. Go figure.

"Who took whose last name?"

"I took Tom's last name. That was one discussion we had that lasted about four minutes. My... I guess you could call it maiden name, is Mason. I love my last name, I really do, but I liked Tom's name even better. Kaulitz. It sounded so exotic and foreign and makes my name about ten thousand times better. What sounds better to you: William Gabriel Mason or William Gabriel Kaulitz?"

Just about everyone chirped back "Kaulitz."

"Exactly. And the whole discussion would have lasted a shorter time had Tom not been such a gentleman and been all 'Oh, but I can take the name Mason, it's no big deal' because he's stupid and doesn't listen half the time."

"But does he like... Wear the pants in the relationship?" The girl looked like she was scared of offending Bill.

Bill smiled. "I have absolutely no problem with admitting that I am largely the girl of our marriage. And let me tell you, I was a bit of a bridezilla when we planned our wedding. I wanted everything perfect, and by God, I was going to have it that way or someone was going to die."

A few people laughed. 

"And no, I did not wear white. My tux was black with a red vest and bowtie. I had a mixture of 'groomsmaids' and groomsmen, who wore red, and Tom had a mixture as well. His group had on a pewter grey color, it was all so fancy."

"Who was your best man?"

"My little brother Andreas. It was adorable; he was the only one under eighteen in the Marriage Party. And I had one of each; my Maid of Honor was my roommate Ariana."

The rest of the period continued on that way, people questioning Bill and Bill answering with absolutely no hesitance. He was an open book, always had been, and he knew the kids in his class wouldn't care.

The bell finally rang and the class filed out. A minute or two later, the first students for his World History class came filing in as he sipped at his now cold but still wanted coffee.

It was, he decided, an eventful first period.

~+~

"Hello?"

"Hey baby!"

"Hey Bill. You sound surprisingly chipper for having just got off of work."

Bill rolled his eyes as he turned the wheel of his Audi. "Did you see my reminder on the board?"

"No, why?" 

Again, Bill rolled his eyes. Tom could be so blind. "I'll be late getting home tonight."

There was a pause. "And why is that?"

"You're dense, I hope you know. The reminder has been on the board for like weeks. I have a doctor's appointment today. I tried calling you like a million times today but you never picked up."

"Yeah, I kind of lost my phone in my office. Camry had to help me find it. We almost literally turned the place upside down."

"And you didn't think to call me after you found it and saw the twenty messages I left on it?"

"You left twenty messages?"

"It's an exaggeration, baby, focus here. Go look at the board, what does it say for reminders?"

Bill heard Tom hum as he walked to go look at the board. Bill navigated the road before him nimbly. He had driven the highway before him so many times, he could probably tell when a certain plant was about to appear next by the road. He loved driving through the mountains, the highway shaded by huge redwoods and sequoias as the Coastal Range turned into the Cascades. It made him feel serene.

A very large, audible groan came through the speakers in his car. "That's today?"

"Seeing as today is the twenty-fourth, I would say, yes, that is today."

"And you have to go all the way to Shasta?"

"That's where Dr. Rosenthal is, Tom. You know that. I'm actually almost there; I skipped out of school early today and had someone sub in for me, which is why I tried to call you so many times. I may end up just getting a hotel and staying the night, I don't want to take drive back in the dark."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Order pizza, have a beach party with your friends, call your mom, re-alphabetize your movies, discover a new fossil in the back yard, I don't care. This is your free time, baby, just don't have the house a mess when I get back, you hear?"

"Yes, Mother. And I'll wear clean underwear, too."

"Always a plus."

Tom laughed. "Alright, alright. You have a good time, honey, and do me a favor."

"What?"

"If you find time, go up to Weed and get me one of their souvenir t-shirts."

And that, Bill thought, was the humor that he fell in love with. "I'll definitely be home tomorrow if you want me to go to Weed."

"You have extra clothes?"

"I have an extra set in my car, always do. I'll see you tomorrow, baby, I love you."

"I love you too, Bill."

Bill pressed 'end call' on his phone, which had been hooked up to his car's phone cord so he could talk hands-free, and then turned up his music. He'd always had a bit of a soft spot (what Ariana said was better termed 'an obsession') with old-time, classic pop and rock songs. It was the only reason why he wished he had been born in the early twenty-first century: so he could have witnessed the artists firsthand.

He smiled and sang along as he drove the twisting road to his doctor's appointment to the song he'd had paused. "Be my bad boy, be my man, be my weekend lover, but don't be my friend. You can be my bad boy, but understand that I don't need you in my life again."