Untitled Tokio Hotel Fanfic

Quentin Brookes looked around her office tiredly.

She’d been assigned to protect some foreign band, and her patience was wearing thin. The band’s members had been receiving death threats for weeks, and they’d finally gotten a clue as to who it was. Unfortunately, to get that clue, the band had to receive exactly twenty seven letter bombs, seven hundred and twenty five letters with insults ranging from 'the lead singer is a flaming ho' to 'yo mama' jokes, forty two chemical laced packages, and one attempt at shooting.

Her boss was breathing down her neck to get them out of the spotlight, and she finally had the backup of the band’s homeland, Germany. She’d chosen the perfect place, but after researching the band, she realized they might just let themselves be shot at.

Unfortunately, they had far too many fans to go much of anywhere else. She sighed, knowing full well the old wives’ tale about sighing causing you to age. Pressing the buzzer on her desk, she spoke in an agitated voice, “Carmine, get that band here, stat. They’re going on vacation.”

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“So, what is Rule 127 of being a good hostess?” A tall, severe-looking woman asked her young daughter, who was struggling to fix the wrinkles in her crisp, proper outfit.

“Never let your guests see your discomfort,” the girl responded distractedly. She was about twelve years old, but her demeanor would have suggested at least thirty, while her appearance suggested a not-so-well-endowed teenager. The woman pursed her lips.

“No. That is Rule 271. Rule 127 is to uphold a quiet, graceful dignity at all times.” The small one crinkled her nose.

“Sorry, Mama; I must have confused them. Forgive me.”

“Of course,” the woman’s eyes softened slightly. “But remember, above all else, you must make sure your guests enjoy themselves. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mama.” The little girl smiled softly, showing off her blatantly crooked teeth. They almost had saved up enough to get her braces.

“Now, we have some very important guests coming, dear. They are city folk, and are not overly fond of the countryside, from what I’ve been told.” The little girl grimaced. How could anyone not like the beautiful South Dakota country?

“Don’t make that face. Now, I want you to be on your best behavior when they get here. I want no potshots in the backyard and you mustn’t act unladylike.” The girl nodded.

“Mama, if I may ask; who are our guests?”

“They are foreign, German to be precise. They are coming here to escape from some of their current…” the woman searched for the right word, “troubles.” The girl giggled quietly.

“But Mama,” she spoke with a playful lilt in her voice, “isn’t that why all our ‘very important guests’ come here?”

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“Did you know that South Dakota is the only state in the U.S. with a declining population?”

“No, and I didn’t need to.”

“Also, it’s known as the ‘Coyote State’.”

“Shut UP, Gustav!” Georg said, as Tom threw a pillow at him. They were taking a 'vacation' as the Fed had insisted on calling it.

“I hate the country,” Bill grumbled, painting his nails to perfection. It was a nervous habit of his. Tom looked at him.

“Well baby brother, if it weren’t for one of your crazy fans, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Bill looked flabbergasted as his brother turned back to glare at the countryside whizzing by. They’d taken a plane to the airport nearest to their destination, but they still had a four hour drive ahead of them.

“MY crazy fans?! It was probably one of YOUR one night stands!” Bill retorted angrily. He was so not taking the blame for this.

“It was probably both.”

“SHUT UP, GUSTAV!” The twins roared concurrently.

It had been a gruelingly long trip, but finally Tom could see the house they were supposed to stay at. It was large, with two or three stories, and a wraparound porch for the lower level. It was dreary, with a grey-black color to it, and had fallen into slight disrepair. It looked like one of the gothic mansions from the movies. It looked very out of place in the sunny and cheerful South Dakota.

The seventeen year old shuddered, as he saw some graves in the backyard. He was definitely not going to enjoy this at all.

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“I’m going out, but I’ll be back by the time you come home.”

Henrietta raised an eyebrow at the note. It was not like her mother to skip out when guests were expected. It was even more unlike her not to leave a specific time at which she’d be returning, but Henrietta just shrugged it off, her sallow features remaining impassive.

She’d just gotten home from school, and there wasn’t a soul for a good three miles, where her closest neighbors lived. Duty-bound, she pulled out her homework and began working, exactly as she would have done if her mother had been present. Math was first, as always.

She finished her Math, English, and World Geography homework, before hearing a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. Ten to five, yet her mother was not home? Unfathomable! Still, she got up and answered the door. The people standing there made her jaw drop.

One had hair that looked not unlike a lion’s mane or an anime character on a crazy hair day. Said hair was black, obviously dyed, and seemed soft. His features were feminine, giving him a particularly androgynous look. His tight clothes did not help his case in the slightest. He smiled widely at her, and it was admittedly warm, even if she could tell it was strained.

The next person, she noticed, had blondish-brown dreadlocks and extremely baggy clothes. He seemed to be the polar opposite of the first man, especially with his scowl. Even through this, she could see he had some strikingly similar features to his opposite, like his eye shape and hue. He half glared at her, but said nothing.

Another man stood behind the ‘gangsta’. He had long brown hair, and was shorter than his two abnormally tall friends. He seemed to have a perpetual smirk on his face. He had a bulkier stature, but it was mostly muscle. He wore a leather jacket that awoke a twinge of jealousy in the girl, but she moved her gaze to the final man standing on her porch.

He was far shorter than his companions, at least four or five inches, if she was to guess, and blonde. His hair was cut short, and he had deep brown eyes. He appeared muscular as well, if a little chubby, and had a ‘don’t mess with me’ sort of look on his face, even though his demeanor read ‘teddy bear’ to her. Henrietta couldn’t help but notice he had a book in his hands, causing her lips to twitch upwards just a little.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” She asked, breaking the small silence anxiously.

“Does your mother happen to be around?” The lion-haired boy spoke kindly, causing Henrietta to turn to him.

“My mother is not available at the moment, but I imagine, based on your accent, that you are the guests she spoke of?” Her dull eyes stared directly into the tall man’s own bright orbs.

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There was an exchange, but Tom didn’t really pay attention. If he did, he would’ve learned that the girl was in charge while her mother was gone, her name was Henrietta, but she preferred Henri, and that she was twelve. He also would’ve heard Bill introduce them hesitantly and wait for her to turn to a squealing fan-girl. He would have seen her blink slowly and raise an eyebrow at his twin’s actions. But he didn’t, so he was jabbed in the back by Georg when Henri motioned for them to come in.

He was about to grab his suitcase, when a small, sturdy hand stole it from him. He watched, half in horror and half in awe, as the small girl lifted, not only his, but Gustav’s and Georg’s suitcases as well.

“I apologize, but I must request you carry the last bag.” She seemed very upset as Bill struggled with his suitcase, and Tom could practically see the cogs whirring in her head, trying to find a way for her to carry the final bag as well, even though it outweighed the three she already had. Gustav helped Bill, causing some (but certainly not all) of the girl’s worry to vanish.

She led them to their rooms. Bill’s was first (‘probably to minimize the distance his bag had to go,’ Tom betted silently), it being the first door on the long hallway. Tom’s room was across the hall, with Georg’s next to his, while Gustav’s was at the end of the hall, since the stairs leading to the third level were next to Bill’s room. Henri set down the bags in their respective rooms, and cleared her throat politely. The guys all turned to look at her.

“Dinner is at seven o’clock sharp every night, while breakfast is up to you. I hope you enjoy your stay here. Please ask if you have any questions.” Tom stared at her. She sounded like an old person! Seeing that they weren’t going to respond, Henri continued in her soft voice, “I ask only that you do not go up to the third level, as that is where my mother and I reside. I hope you find the rooms satisfactory.” With that said, Henri rushed down the stairs quickly. Tom barely caught a glimpse of her fretful expression, but saw enough to know that it was the first time she’d been the one to give that speech.

He shrugged, still kind of moody due to the whole ‘in the middle of nowhere’ thing, and went into his room. It was homey and nondescript, with a decent-sized bed and off-white walls. There was a small nightstand next to the bed, and a closet on the opposite wall. A window paralleled the door, giving Tom a wide view of the road and beyond.

Not bothering to unpack, Tom went to go see Bill. He had to get his twin’s opinion of their freaky little hostess. Bill was scurrying about, looking out his window, unpacking, and grinning. He seemed to like the house, if not the countryside. When Tom entered the room, Bill’s grin widened.

“What’s up, Tomi?” Bill asked, struggling to find a place for all his junk. Tom snorted at his antics. Bill had never been a light packer.

“Not much. I have a better room than you,” Tom replied, smiling. His twin smirked in return.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Bill dragged his words out sarcastically. “You’re just jealous.”

“No, I’m serious, Billa! It’s got this giant bed and huge closet! Too bad my stuff doesn’t fill it.”

“Tomi, unless you plan on letting me put my stuff in your room, you’ll shut up.” Bill glared at his nightstand. He was desperately trying to find a way for all his make-up to fit into the small drawer.

“Okay, okay. What did you think about the midget?”

“Tomi, Henri is not a midget! She is a perfectly respectable height for her age,” Bill admonished, trying to fit the stuff in like puzzle pieces. “As for my opinion, I think she’s under a lot of stress. She probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with us without her mother being here.” Bill’s tongue stuck out slightly, as he tried (and failed) to fit in his brush into the drawer.

“Yeah, she did look kind of flustered after her little speech.” Tom admitted. “I still think she’s a weirdo, though. She sounds like she’s forty or something! What the hell kind of kid sounds like a forty year old? I don’t even remember Gustav talking like that.” He shook his head.

“Gee, thanks,” said a voice from the doorway. The twins turned and saw Georg leaning against the doorframe, smirking, with a grinning Gustav standing next to him, face buried in his book.

“Be nice to the little one, she’s probably sensitive,” Georg said, “I swear, she has worse nerves than Bill before a concert.”

“She needs to loosen up a bit,” Bill mused, the cogs in his head whirring as he schemed. Tom groaned when he saw the look in his brother’s eyes.

“Whatever you’re plotting, you can count me out, Billa.” He laughed at his brother’s pout before leaving the room.

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“Auuuuuuugghhhh….Mom is going to be so upset with me…” Henri moaned at her homework.

The homework said nothing.

“You want to know why?” she asked it, her dark features all but blackening.

The homework still didn’t reply.

“Because I broke a ton of rules, that’s why! Rule 125: don’t let your guests stand on the porch for more than three minutes! Rule 45: don’t make your guests feel uncomfortable! Rule 376: don’t let your guests know of your problems!” Henri looked at her homework unhappily.

It just reminded her that she still had three more questions to answer.

Sighing, Henri settled in to finish her homework.

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Georg laughed at Bill. He was ridiculous! Scaring a kid just makes them even tenser! He said as much, and Bill huffed.

“Well I don’t see you thinking of anything!” he retorted.

“I think she likes to read…” Gustav murmured vaguely from his perch on the windowsill. He didn’t look at his two companions.

“How do you know?” Georg asked, curious.

“When she was checking us out at the door, she saw my book and smiled.”

“How do you know she wasn’t just staring at your package?” Gustav threw his book at Georg’s head; it hit its target. Hard. Bill laughed.

“She’s twelve, you pervert!” one G growled at the other, while said other G held his hurting head tenderly.

“So? When YOU were twelve you—!!”

“That’s only because you and the twins—!!”

Bill sighed. They would never get anything done.

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Henri packed up her finished homework; certain she’d gotten most of the last of it wrong. Glancing at the clock, she paled when she saw the time: six-thirty, and she hadn’t even started dinner!

Running through the doorway to the kitchen, she fired up the old oven, a temperamental machine they had named Hiruma. It heated quickly, nearly burning her in the process. Tying back her thick hair, she pulled out a frozen loaf of bread dough from the freezer. Quickly unwrapping it, she threw the dough onto a cooking pan and shoved the whole thing into Hiruma, slamming the door closed as the flames jumped out at her. Immediately, she grabbed a file from a cabinet, looking for something fast and easy that her guests would enjoy.

The file told her their food preferences. It also told her they were very picky and that Bill would not eat broccoli. They like almost none of the same things. This was beginning to stress Henri quite a bit. If she made the twins happy, the others would not be, and if she made Georg happy, no one else would be, and so on. She was running out of time, and decided on her one last failsafe.

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Gustav glared at Georg, and vice versa. Bill simply plotted on his own. If scaring, trickery, and other mischievous acts were out, then he’d have to get her to trust them. But how? The poor cogs in his brain could hardly keep up as he schemed, failing to catch the simplest thing: force her to let her guard down.

But as they failed, he began to think of different ways to manipulate his pawns (i.e. his band mates).

Tom would be the hardest. How do you get a small child to trust a six-foot-one, perverted, loud guy? Not to mention that Tomi had a nasty tendency towards anti-sociality. Bill would have to find them some common ground.

Then Gustav would be first, since he was easiest (or at the very least, seemed to be the most compatible with the girl). They might read the same types of books, or something. On second thought, that might be kind of hard too.

Perhaps Georg? He was nearly as bad as Tom, but he, at least, wouldn’t try to freak her out…right?

Bill sighed. They just weren’t the type of people who were good at interacting with children, plain and simple. Plus, they barely spoke the same language! What was he going to do?

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Henri looked at her last-minute dinner skeptically. It was edible, but…

Well, it was too late to bother much with it now. At three minutes to seven, she went to inform her guests of the time. She stopped first at Bill’s door. She could hear quiet, rapid conversation that she couldn’t understand. Perhaps they were speaking in German? Calming herself, she rapped her knuckles against the wood lightly.

“Dinner’s ready,” she called, hoping her voice didn’t sound too nervous. Bill poked his head out.

“Dank—er, thank you. We’ll be down in a second. Will you get Tomi for me? He’s in his room.” Bill’s head disappeared back into his room, and Henri let out a breath of relief.

She walked silently over to Tom’s door and knocked on in the same light fashion. There was no response. She knocked a little louder. Still nothing. Uneasily, she opened the door a little bit. Tom was lying on his bed, facing away from her, not moving. Slowly, she crept over to him. He was….asleep?

“Um, sir? Sir? Mister Tom, sir?” she asked, nudging him lightly. He still didn’t respond. “Um, d-dinner’s ready if you want to eat….” Her voice trailed off, and she started to get a little annoyed. She poked him harshly in he back.

Tom jolted, turning to face her. He was still asleep. Henri was ready to give up, when something grabbed her by the waist, and snuggled into her back. Frightened, Henri did what any twelve-year-old girl would do: she elbowed her captor in the gut and ran out.

She rushed past a bewildered Georg and Gustav and a grinning Bill.

End Of Chapter One