This fucking photoshoot was interminable. The boys were all starting to get tired and irritated, and the set lamps were so bright and hot they were making everyone sweat. Georg could smell Tom from five feet away.

Bill, however, still looked miraculously pristine, not a single spike of hair out of place and the broad black stripe of makeup across his eyes not once daring to run. He looked intensely bored and haughty, standing around with his hands on his slender hips and yawning a little as they waited for the cameraman to reset.

Bill caught Georg staring at him, and his mouth twisted. "You look like you just got sent to the principal's office," Bill said, jerking his chin at Georg. The older boy looked down at himself and smirked at the strategically-loosened tie and untucked pinstriped shirt. He did look like he was intentionally breaking every dress code known to academia. It had taken the wardrober forty-five minutes to get it to look that way.

"Yeah, well," Georg growled, waggling his eyebrows, "I was a bad boy."

The look on Bill's face for that comment was totally worth Tom snickering derisively at Georg; the younger twin's eyes grew hungry and his cheeks flushed. Then he composed himself and sashayed over to Georg, despite the photographer having told them not to move.

"You were, were you? You'll get a spanking for that, you know."

Georg flashed his teeth. "I sure hope so," he muttered, looping his arm over Bill's shoulder and tugging the other boy just a little closer. There was only so much of this they could get away with while the photographer and crew were still here, but Georg intended on pushing that envelope as far as he could. "Do you want to come get one with me?"

Bill's eyes grew wide and he flushed prettily again. He opened his mouth to respond when suddenly the photographer's gruff voice cut in.

"Hey, I thought I told you kids not t--oh, hey, wait, you two hold that!"

Georg smirked just a little as Bill rolled his eyes a bit and glared over at the camera. There was a flash of light and a satisfied grunt from the photographer, but neither the lens nor the man caught Georg's gentle fingers rubbing circles on Bill's shoulderblade.