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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: Rish.
Pairing: Timo/Philipp, some Bastian/Lukas
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction. I have no idea what these people actually do in private, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t anything like this.
Notes: Semi-sequel to Bumps in the Night.
Summary: Fluff. Food is always a good thing to have on hand during unexpected crises.
***
It was really funny how a harmless little ‘click’ could sound exactly like a big, heavy bell of doom, depending on the circumstances. Such as: walking into a room, only to realize it was the wrong one, it was just an empty office and turning around just when his dumbass teammates had accidentally bumped the door shut while they were horsing around with each other. And it locked, and they on the outside didn’t have a key and Timo on the inside couldn’t get it open either, and now he was stuck in a small room with no window and with the other teammate he’d been kind of stupidly crushing on for a while.
“Okay,” Phil said. He stood back from the door and lifted his hands, then pushed them down in what maybe was a Zen move or something. “Okay, no big deal. We’ll be late for dinner, but at least we have an excuse.”
“And I’m going to kill those two, but at least I have something to tell Jens when he asks why I didn’t call him down to help.” Timo rapped his knuckles against the door, but all he heard were solid thuds in response. It figured that Podolski would pick a room with a good door.
Somebody rapped back on the other side. “Philipp? Timo?” Bastian called. “Hey, are you all right? Did you say something?”
“I’m going to use your dead body to fertilize the field?”
“Timo!” Phil squawked, eyes widening. “It was an accident! It’s not like they meant to!”
More knocking, as if it was supposed to make him feel better. “Um, guys? I’m trying to call the building manager, but I can’t get him,” Lukas said. “I’ll—uh—okay—we could—”
“I was trying to make a joke. I’m stressed.” That sounded lame. Well, Timo was half-seriously considering what Schweini might do to the grass. Actually, that’d probably be like poison with all the sugar and soda the guy drank. “I—what the hell—”
Something had just grabbed his knee. Naturally, he jerked away and scrambled backwards, and he pulled Phil back while he was at it since God knew what Schweini and Poldi might come up with at any given time. Ever since somebody had lent them that zombie movie, Timo had been living in fear that they’d figure out a way to make that real. And since there was a hand sticking through the door and jerkily flapping around, could anyone blame him for overreacting?
“Ow,” Phil said. He pulled away his arm just as Timo realized how hard he might’ve been squeezing that, then got down on his hands and knees to peer at the hand in the mail-slot. “Um…Bastian?”
The hand wildly flipped up and down. Then it withdrew, and after some clanging, Bastian’s eye and part of his nose was suddenly smushed up to the slot. “Hey, Phil. Listen, Lukas is going to go get Micha, and I’m going to try and find the building guy; he’s got to be around here somewhere. It’d take maybe twenty minutes. You going to be okay for that?”
“I guess. Not like we can do anything else, huh?” Phil shrugged. A weird low growl overrode his last few words and he winced, then put a hand to his stomach. A cute little red flush started across his cheeks, and God, Timo wasn’t going to be okay with this. “Crap. You have anything to eat? I didn’t get much for lunch and I’m starving.”
“I’m surprised you guys can’t pick the lock.” His neck was cramping with all the twisting he had to do, so Timo finally got down to one knee. “What happens if you can’t find either of them?”
Bastian made a face at him. “Hey, we’re young and energetic, not criminals. And if we can’t find anybody, we’ll…um, come back here and try to think of something else. An hour, tops.”
An hour. Well, okay, Timo used to share a room with Phil so it wasn’t like he hadn’t had to do this kind of thing before. Though hotel rooms had things like TVs and books and bathrooms Timo could use for cold showers. “Great.”
After some scuffling, Bastian got pushed aside enough for Lukas to squint through the slot. “We’re really, really sorry. We didn’t know the door was going to lock, and we’re gonna get you…oh, hey, Philipp. I’ve got this.” He poked a bag of something through the slot. “Sorry it’s just junk food, but don’t worry, we’re not going to let you miss dinner. Promise.”
Phil said something polite back and picked up the bag to frown at it. “What are these…?”
“Hey—hey, wait! What about—” Timo lunged for the slot and even shoved his hand through, but by the time he got there, Lukas and Bastian had already gone off. After a moment, he convinced himself that yelling for them wasn’t going to do any good and slumped against the door, resigning himself to the wait.
At least, he tried. Something seemed to be wrong with the slot, such as it being suddenly narrower than his wrist. He tugged and the edge bit into his skin, making him hiss.
“Huh? Timo…are you stuck? No, wait, don’t pull. I think the flap must’ve come down,” Phil muttered, sliding up beside Timo. He ducked and carefully poked his finger through the slot, pushing at something so suddenly Timo could pull his hand back through. Then he grinned, nearly as happy as when he’d made a goal, and sat back on his feet. “See?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” There were a few red marks across his wrist, but when Timo flexed his fingers, everything still seemed to work. He rubbed at the marks and they started to fade, so maybe he’d even get away without any bruising.
Phil absently said a you’re welcome as he went back to frowning at whatever Lukas had given him. He held up the bag, which was filled with a bunch of soft green things about the size of a watch-face. Then he opened it up and took one of them out; it squished between his fingers.
“Marshmallow?” The bag didn’t have a label or anything, which kind of worried Timo. God knew what Lukas thought was worth eating.
“Import, maybe? It looks like a leaf—well, if I hadn’t squashed it.” After tossing the one he had to Timo, Phil pulled out another one and sniffed it, then cautiously nibbled off one corner. He chewed for a couple seconds before making an approving face. “Mmm. Mint.”
Something sticky suddenly got all over Timo’s fingers, which turned out to be the marshmallow, now mortally wounded, when he looked down at his hand. He grimaced and used his thumbnail to try and scrape off the oozing white center, but only managed to get it stuck across more fingers.
“These are really good,” Phil mumbled. He popped another one into his mouth, then got up on his knees to turn around so he could lean his back against the door. He settled down so he was touching Timo at the hip and shoulder. Once he was done chewing, he stuck his finger and then his thumb into his mouth and slowly drew them back out again, wrapping his tongue around each. He started to dig out another, then stopped and tipped the bag towards Timo. “Want one?”
Yes. Also, Timo wanted to lean over and clean up Phil’s fingers for him, and then maybe clean the marshmallow taste out of Phil’s mouth. And he wanted to never, ever have to see marshmallows again because he’d be too embarrassed. “You know you’re going to be hungry again in fifteen minutes, tops. I heard those things are something like eighty percent air.”
“Well, that’s okay. I don’t really want to ruin my appetite for dinner.” With a shrug, Phil shook out three of them into his palm. He tossed one into his mouth, then offered up the other two to Timo’s nose because he was a little busy staring adoringly at the bag.
Okay, Timo hated the marshmallows more than he liked them now. Even if Phil looked ridiculously young when he was jerking his hand down and trying to apologize through a mouthful of candy so he was completely incomprehensible.
“Sorry,” Phil finally got out. He coughed a little so Timo started to get up an arm and reach for him, but got everything cleared up by himself. “No, really, are you sure you don’t want one?”
“I have one.” Timo held up the one he’d completely flattened, which didn’t look so appealing now. At least to him.
Phil looked at it, then suddenly jerked forward at the shoulders. He moved back, then did that again, and this time, he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. The snicker still got through the marshmallows he was eating. “What did you do to it? I didn’t know you hated candy so much.”
“I don’t hate candy.” The marshmallow stuck to Timo’s thumb was starting to dry out so the edges were going crusty, but it didn’t seem to want to get off of his skin any more now than it had before. He finally tried rolling it up into a ball, which got it mostly off, but it still left a disgusting sticky residue behind. And also…whatever dye they put in the candy was coming off, too, so his thumb was going green.
Timo looked around for a trashcan, for anything, but of course the room was completely bare. He checked his pockets, but he didn’t have any tissues or anything to wrap up the marshmallow in, either. Frustrated, he finally banged his shoulders back against the door and glared at the far wall.
“You know, they’ll get us out,” Phil quietly said. He shot a wary glance at Timo, then ducked his head and furtively stuffed another marshmallow in his mouth. For some reason, he’d scooted away a couple centimeters. “No, really. Lukas and Bastian can kind of get carried away, but they always make up for it.”
“I…” Damn it, Timo had been zoning into himself again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to take it out on you. Bastian’s just been really annoying me lately.”
Phil’s eyebrows went up. “Hmmm? Doing what? Is it—no, we’re at the other end of the hall and I don’t hear anything. Though Torsten says they get pretty loud.”
“What, the Playstation?” Someday, they were going to come back from practice and find that thing smashed into a million pieces. Timo liked gaming once in a while, but Lukas and Bastian really took it to extremes.
Phil choked. He put a fist to his mouth and coughed hard, then started to sit back. Then he choked again so Timo gave him a thump on the back. That seemed to do the trick, though Phil still looked a little strange, like he was trying very hard to keep something in. “Um…you know…they aren’t actually using that. Well, not all the time.”
“Then what are they doing that’s so loud?” Timo asked.
They looked at each other for a couple seconds. Then Timo felt a little stupid and Phil went red and slouched further down the door…but still kept eating the marshmallows. He’d finished half the bag by now.
“I got up in the middle of the night a couple days ago to take a walk because I couldn’t sleep, and I went by their door and heard a moan,” Phil muttered. “I’m surprised nobody else seems to have caught on yet.”
“Yeah…” After a moment, Timo tipped his head back against the door. “It does make sense. I’m so glad they can’t have kids together, though. Can you imagine what those would be like?”
Phil stopped licking at his fingers to look more sharply at Timo. “You don’t care?”
“It’s not like it’s really my business. Anyway, it’s Schweini and Poldi. They’re weird anyway—this just seems…normal for them. Well, as long as it’s not why they’re doing things that mess with me or the team,” Timo said.
“Like…” Phil nervously poked at the marshmallow he was holding, making little holes in the side with his nail “…you know, they keep shoving me into you?”
Timo went very still and thought about that very seriously. He had in fact noticed that, and been a bit worried for a while that Bastian might say something to the wrong person, but for all the ways Bastian could be annoying, giving away secrets didn’t seem to be one of them. But he’d been pretty sure Phil hadn’t caught on. In fact he’d been pretty sure Phil was completely oblivious to anything like that.
“…yeah,” he finally said. He didn’t know where Phil might be going with that, so he figured best to stay neutral.
“Oh. Okay.”
That seemed like that was all Phil actually had to say, which had Timo kicking himself for being…being what? Careful? That was a perfectly sensible thing to do, and yet he felt really pathetic for doing it.
“You sure you don’t want a marshmallow?” Phil said after a long, uncomfortable minute.
Timo sighed and just stuck the one he had into his mouth. It was well and truly squished onto his thumb by now so he really had to bite at it and scrape with his teeth to get it off, and when he finally did, he accidentally tugged too hard so he smacked the back of his head into the door. He winced and twisted around to rub at the spot with his non-gummy hand, and in doing so, got a glimpse of a weird kind of interested look on Phil’s face.
Phil went a little stiff on being caught, then looked down at the bag in his lap. He threw a marshmallow into his mouth like he was trying to get it straight into his throat and end up choking again. “How’s it?”
“Blech,” Timo mumbled. The stuff was sticking to his teeth. It was mint-flavored, all right, but this particular type of mint definitely didn’t exist anywhere in nature.
“Maybe you waited too long. You smashed it all up and then let it dry out on you. Here, have a…oops.” Though Phil poked his nose into the bag just to make sure. He still sounded nervous. “Crap. I just ate the last one.”
Timo thought about saying something to the effect that he wasn’t going to kill Phil just for that, and hell, he’d probably let Phil get away with anything up to and maybe even murder. He seriously thought about it, then seriously called himself a chicken and went with the snarky comment instead. “I can’t believe you ate the whole bag in…what, ten minutes?”
“They’re good!” Phil protested, abruptly lifting his head.
They stared at each other again. The bag floated past Timo’s knee before he realized Phil had dropped it, and he automatically leaned over to grab it and Phil put his hands around Timo’s head and then Timo was disbelievingly savoring a rich but delicate, sweet mint flavor.
A second later, Phil shakily dropped his hands. His fingers aimlessly twitched around, and he wouldn’t look at Timo. “So…what do you think?”
Timo tentatively lifted one hand and put it on Phil’s shoulder. “They are good.”
“Oh. Good. Um. I mean.” Phil never got around to saying what he meant. He did do some moaning, and then a lot of wriggling since they were up against the door and the floor seemed a little better, and he tasted wonderful. Marshmallows and mint and Phil: Timo’s new favorite flavor.
The bag crunched somewhere beneath Phil and he made a muffled noise into Timo’s mouth; Timo dragged his hand around Phil’s side, not really able to get it completely off the other man, and passed it over the curve of the top of Phil’s hip till he found the plastic. He dug it out with two fingers because the other two and his thumb were busy working beneath Phil’s shirt. Something rumbled and shivered against Timo’s stomach and he pressed himself down, feeling shivers start up where Phil’s belly and thighs were moving against him. “Told you, they’re nothing but air,” he mumbled.
“Muumph.” Phil sucked at Timo’s lower lip. His hands started out squeezing at Timo’s shoulders, then rolled down a few centimeters, where they stopped and squeezed again. He worked them down Timo’s back and over his ass like that, like the very best massage Timo had ever had, then dug his fingers into the backs of Timo’s thighs. “If I was full I wouldn’t want to do anything but sit. Mumfh.”
“Stop talking. I’m trying to kiss you here.” And Timo did so, right through Phil’s laugh till the other man started groaning again. He wormed his hand around between their thighs, but got it stuck there when Phil suddenly slid himself up Timo’s front, pressing at chest and belly and one leg that was wrapped around Timo so he could feel every detail of Phil’s prick—
--and the door when it slammed into him and completely rolled him off Phil.
“What the fuck!”
“That hurt, damn it!” Phil snapped, scrambling away. He stopped to grab at his arm, then continued scooting back, rubbing at it. Then he stopped and stared. “Bastian?”
The idiot stuck his head in the door, grinning like a very, very stupid clown. “I got the key! So are you guys all right? Didn’t go crazy and want to…um…er…” Bastian apparently was actually paying attention to what was in front of him; Phil’s hair was mussed and his lips were a little swollen “…oops. Did you want me to wait a couple minutes?”
“I’ll tell you what I want you to do—” Timo normally thought of himself as the patient, sane goalie of the team, but he really just couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged.
The door flew open as Bastian helpfully hit it with his flailing arm. The other man tried to beat a quick retreat, but he wasn’t fast enough and Timo managed to grab a fistful of his shirt. He yanked Bastian back, only to have somebody cannonade into his side so they all skidded sideways.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Lukas shouted.
Timo was still trying to get his balance back and couldn’t see where Podolski was, and then Bastian tackled him so he was a little busy. Whoever had hit him in the side resisted the shove, then suddenly disappeared so that Timo lost his balance and fell over.
“Relax! Don’t kill me!” Bastian dropped like a sack of potatoes onto Timo’s waist and tried to grab Timo’s wrists. “I was just trying to—”
“Everyone stop!”
Everyone did. Michael had that effect when he wanted to, and Michael…Timo turned his head…was standing over by the stairwell, blinking really fast. Timo looked back up and saw feet. After a moment, he got the whole picture and understood that Lukas had hauled up Phil by the waist, so those were Phil’s feet…and hands. He looked back at Michael, who was still blinking.
After a couple moments, Michael gave it his best shot. “All right, all right…I…” He looked from Lukas, then to Phil, then to Bastian who was still sitting on Timo, and finally at Timo. Then he stared blankly at all of them. “I’m…going upstairs. For some water. I’ll be back in two minutes, and when I do come back, this—this is going to make sense. Understand?”
“Okay.” “Sure, Micha.” “Um, okay.” “Yeah, of course.”
Michael stared for another second, then slowly turned around and went up the stairs. Lukas grunted and shuffled back, then put Phil down; Timo levered himself up and twisted to dump Bastian off his waist.
“He’s going for aspirin,” Lukas said, sagely nodding.
“I hope he brings it back with him, because I could use some,” Timo muttered, getting back on his feet. “Just tell me you didn’t lock us in there on purpose.”
Bastian looked utterly horrified by the thought. “Of course not!” Though a grin sneaked onto his face after a moment. “Though…it worked out, huh?”
“Well, the marshmallows were very tasty,” Phil said, sounding thoughtful and calm and not at all devious. He let a little bit of mischief flash in his eyes as he helped Timo up, then turned a puzzled face on Lukas, who had apparently started to get things and who was choking. “Do you know where we could get more?”
***