Chapter Text
✵
Tom’s drinking habits used to be horrible.
He was generally a fun guy to be around— He made dumb jokes, laughed with his friends, even bought the dumbest sh*t, and he liked to cheer up his friends. Those friends being mostly Matt and Edd though; Tord wasn’t Tom’s go-to. The only times his drinking habits would get the best of him was when he'd already been going through something— An argument with his friends; Especially Tord, falling out, anything that overwhelmed or inconvenienced him. Tom didn’t think arguing with Tord out of all people would bother him so much— He thought that, because they weren’t too fond of each other, it would feel normal or easier to fight with him. This wasn’t the case at all. He found himself unintentionally slipping back into drinking after every argument, reaching for a bottle or his flask as soon as they stopped screaming at each other, craving to feel the burn of vodka run down his throat; to numb the unexplainable pain he felt inside of him.
Ironically, it was always Tord who had to clean up Tom’s mess every time this happened. Edd and Matt told him off, saying that if it was his fault, then he should go fix it. Meaning, Tord had to go and deal with Tom every single time he got himself drunk— It was only on certain occasions when Matt or Edd helped him. Tord complained, but obviously complied— He wasn’t fond of Tom, sure, but it sort of hurt seeing him look so miserable. He didn’t know why.
Tord helped the best he could.
Fixed his bottles, took them away from him, talked to Tom even while he was drunk, and never tried to pick an argument while he was in this state. Tord had his limits, surprisingly. Tom was a verbal and honest drunk, he let anything and everything come out of his mouth. And funnily enough, he was an emotional one too. And Tord listened to all his rants, complaints, sometimes even compliments? But what he didn’t know how to deal with, was when Tom had been crying . Though Tom was honest, he was barely coherent, so Tord had no clue why he would even be sobbing in the first place. He’d find him in the kitchen— Slumped over the dinner table with his arms folded, or in his room— Sitting beside his bed, or against the wall. These places would be f*cked to all hell, glasses everywhere, empty bottles scattered all over the floor, it looked dejected . When Tord would find Tom in the kitchen, he’d bring him back to his room and help him into bed, even through Tom’s protests, before going back to the kitchen and cleaning everything up.
When he was in his room— It was usually for something that was worse than usual.
And you’d think, already being in Tom’s room, would make it easier to bring him to bed, right?
Wrong.
Tom’s resistance would get the better of Tord, and he could never get him to stand up from where he was sitting.
So he’d sit beside him.
Although he had no clue what to say, he tried to be there anyway. He didn’t even know why he was even trying to put up with Tom. He had no reason to care so much. There was a time that Tord had found Tom, sitting against the wall of his room, knees pressed up against his chest, and his head resting in his arms. It was around 2 am-ish. Tord was exhausted, yet sat beside Tom anyway. Tom had gone on and on about how frustrated he was with relationships, and how the people whom he held onto never stuck around— There was a lot of oversharing with quiet sniffles in between, and Tord had no idea what to do. He wasn’t one to give advice, especially about something as complex as relationships . Tord, he slept around , but was never really in an actual ‘relationship’, whatever that is. And because of that, Tord had told a really dumb joke that didn’t cheer Tom up one bit.
“Don’t worry, there are plenty of other fish in the sea. It just sucks you aren’t a good fisherman.”
Tord laughed for a while, but halted when he realized that Tom wasn’t laughing. In fact, he was staring right at him. Seriously?
Tord’s joke was supposed to come off as lighthearted, with a joke-y tone— But it didn’t come out the way he wanted, and Tom wasn’t amused. Tord picked up on it very quickly. Tom was looking at him, tired smokey eyes staring directly at dark grey ones, after Tord had said a stupid f*cking joke that probably made him feel even worse . Great .
“Sorry, sorry— I’m— I’m not good at this stuff.”
Tom continued to stare at him. Tord, overwhelmed with the eye contact, looked away. It was embarrassing how horrible he was at cheering people up, let alone comforting them— Especially when his name is f*cking Tom . Suddenly, he heard a quiet voice speak up, it was Tom who had replied to his earlier statement.
“Yeah, you aren’t.”
Tom looked at Tord, but he never dared to look back at Tom. He already felt like an asshole for what he said, and Tom had basically told him that he was an asshole. To give him the benefit of the doubt, Tord was occasionally an asshole while Tom was sober. He mumbled to himself, “Skulle ikke ha spurt fyren som aldri har vært i et forhold med noen før.” And stared at the door, that he remembered he didn't close fully. Anyone could walk in right now, but he could care less. He wasn’t going to stand up just to close a door while Tom was in tears.
Soon, Tord had felt warmth bubbling in his chest. Accompanied with that, he felt a weight settle on his shoulder. He turned back to Tom carefully, and saw that he had peacefully rested his head on Tord’s shoulder. sh*t. sh*t. Tom wasn’t sleeping either. He was staring at his bed in front of him, acting like he wasn’t resting his head on the shoulder of his so-called ‘rival’. They never got along in the day, or while Tom was sober. It was only at night or while he was drunk that he felt comfortable hanging around Tord. But this wasn’t just ‘hanging out’— Jesus— Tom was leaning on him. Tord felt his chest start to thump, as his heart beat out of his chest. His face had become flushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck, all the way to his cheeks. In the moment, he had raised his hand, cautiously , and placed it on Tom’s shoulder.
Tom responded by nuzzling his face into Tord’s neck. Oh. Now Tord could really feel it. Tom’s warm breaths against his neck clashed with the cold breeze that entered the room through the open windows. He tilted his head towards Tom, failing to see his face— He was nestled perfectly in the area between Tord’s neck and shoulder.
Tord held him, as Tom sunk into him. He was about to close his eyes, before he felt Tom’s lips brush against the skin right under his jaw. He planted a single soft kiss in the area, and tilted his head back down.
Tord had almost fallen apart right then and there.
Was this guy still f*cking drunk? What the hell was that? There was no way he would actually— He would have never—?
Tord didn’t know whether or not this action said something about Tom, or if he was just drunk and confused him for some girlfriend he previously had— But— Tom was well aware that it was Tord who was next to him, right? Tord wasn’t able to move or even think the entire time he held Tom. It felt like a couple hours, even though it hadn’t actually been that long. When he had felt Tom breathing slowly at a steady rate, he knew he had fallen asleep. Well, at least he got him to fall asleep? Even though it wasn’t on his bed. Now that Tom was asleep, Tord couldn’t get up and go back to his room. So he stayed . He stayed and gently rested his head on Tom’s, hoping that he wouldn’t kick his ass first thing in the morning.
Was it bad to say that he liked this? That he wanted to do this with him more often? Preferably while he’s sober, but— He forgot how much he actually liked sharing space with Tom, despite his asshole tendencies in the morning. He was in absolute deep sh*t.
He didn’t know if he wanted Tom to remember any of this in the morning. It felt wrong keeping it all to himself. But on the other hand— It would change everything . Maybe even make Tom hate him even more. Ugh.
He’ll worry about it when they wake up. Right now, he can just— Wallow in this feeling for a bit.
When daylight eventually came, they had woken up together. Tom didn’t freak out as much as Tord thought he would, but was startled nonetheless. But Tom didn’t remove Tord’s hand or moved away from him— He just asked why they were positioned that way. Tord explained to the best of his ability, leaving out some details, and they had gone on with their daily routine. Tom’s hangover wasn’t too bad, only a mild headache. He walked to the bathroom, trying to recall everything from last night, knowing that Tord hadn’t told him everything. And he was right. He remembered— He remembered the way he pressed his lips against the nook of Tord’s jaw and neck. Oh my god. But he had also remembered the fact that Tord didn’t push him away or let go. He stayed .
f*ck.
✵
Tom jolted awake from a loud banging on his front door. Who the f*ck would be banging this loud so early in the morning? He glanced at the clock on his bedside table: 5:04 AM. Jesus christ . He groggily got up from his bed, and slowly cracked open the front door, only leaving an inch between the frame and the door itself.
“Hey, uh, Tom? It’s me, Pat.”
“Pat? Like, from yesterday, Pat?”
“Yeah— From yesterday, Pat. It’s me.”
Pat laughed a little, and peeked through the opening in the door, seeing Tom in the dim lights of his flat. He let Pat in. He was holding a blanket of some sorts? Tom couldn’t discern what it was. He led him to the chairs, and so Pat sat down.
“Why were you banging on my door so early in the morning?”
Pat’s head perked up, looking at Tom, and he folded his hands on his lap.
“We have a schedule. Call time’s at six , and since it’s a Wednesday, we’re doing a roll call in the courtyard.”
Tom nodded. How professional— They have call times and everything. But— If the call time was at 6, and it was currently 5:08.. Why so early?
“But it’s still fairly early, you could have woken me up when it was almost time.”
“Oh, well— You could use this time as an opportunity to freshen up, because I’m assuming you haven’t had a good shower in a bit. And if you’re worried, we have warm water.”
Damn. Did he reek that bad? Besides, he could use a warm shower. But he didn’t have any clothes— It’s not like he wanted to change back into the same greasy shirt, pants, and most of all boxers he’d been using for a while. The coat was acceptable enough .
“I don’t have any clothes. There’s no use in taking a shower if I’m just changing back into the same dirty clothes.”
“That’s what this was for.”
Pat stood up and held up the “blanket”, but as he looked at it closer, it was a fresh pair of folded jeans, a dark gray shirt, and thankfully, a pair of boxers.
“ Red Leader told me to give these to you. Don’t worry, he said they were all new, well— Except the shirt, for some reason.”
He handed the clothes to Tom, placing them in his hands. Tom looked down at them, and looked back up at Pat. So Pat looked down at the clothes, and made a small remark.
“You know, he never makes me bring people clothes when they first come in. Hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you two know each other or something?”
Tom stopped in his tracks. What the f*ck was he supposed to say? That he was one of Tord’s old roommates and that Tord had left, blew up their house, and he didn’t even know if they were ever friends at all— But aside from that, Tord was treating him differently from the others in this facility. Why? It was strange.
“ Old friend , I think.”
“You think?”
“I guess, yeah.”
Tom took the clothes from Pat and nodded at him.
“I should get a shower. I need one. Thanks.”
“I’ll wait here. Since you probably don’t know where the courtyard is. You probably didn’t even know we had a courtyard, with how big this place actually is.”
Pat sat back down on the chair and nodded back at Tom. So Tom had walked off to his room to place down the clothes. After he had done so, he made his way to the bathroom just across from his room to take a shower.
After Tom’s shower— Which he had to mention, felt amazing — He wrapped the towel that was hung behind the door around his waist, and walked back to the room. Tom closed the door and put on the boxers and pants he was given. Last was the shirt, Pat said it wasn’t new, which he didn’t mind all that much. He was just relieved by the fact that Tord didn’t give him some dumbass red one, which is what he imagined his closet would look like. Once he unfolded it, he—
Wait .
This was his .
This was his shirt .
He held up the ‘Ska Band’ shirt he thought he had lost after Tord’s first departure. Why did Tord have his shirt? His favorite shirt out of all things.
But then he recalled.
Tord used to borrow his shirts, this being one of them. He forgot to ask for it back, and Tord had probably packed it into one of his bags by accident before he left. The question is— Why did he keep it? The shirt was perfectly fine, it wasn’t damaged, torn, or anything . He thought Tord would have forgotten about it or even possibly thrown it away, especially since it held a lot of memories. Well, sh*t . He held the shirt in his hands and moved his thumb over it, feeling how soft it is— Which was why it was his favorite, after all. He remembered how Tord used to wear it, whenever they’d have stupid movie or game nights, or when they’d hang out in each other’s rooms.
He was glad it got back to him eventually.
He put it on, and walked out of the room, carefully closing the door. Pat saw him walking over to the couches and waved, so Tom waved back. He grabbed his coat that was resting on the other couch, and put it on. He wasn’t going to forget his bag too, that was over by the entrance.
Once they made it out of Tom’s room, he locked the door and Pat started showing him the way. They talked for a bit, about why there was even a roll call in the first place. And Pat had told him it was to ensure that none of the soldiers had gone missing or gotten hurt somehow. Tom was surprised— Tord gave his soldiers care and importance, like what a real leader should do. He was doing something right.
Once they had made it to the courtyard, it was a massive open area, yet it was crowded with hundreds of the Red Army soldiers. There was an elevated area with a podium that had the Red Army’s obnoxious logo plastered in the front of it— Tom was gonna have to get used to seeing that logo everywhere. He watched as Paul walked up the stairs towards the podium, and slowly tapped on the mic to get everyone’s attention.
“Morning, everyone. It’s currently 5:57 in the AM, so we’ll start a little earlier than usual, since you all were kind enough to be early instead of getting here at 6:30.”
The soldiers laughed along with Paul, and he started flipping through a logbook he was holding. Tom wasn’t entirely sure how roll call would go, but once it had started, it was all self explanatory. Paul recited a long list of names, and everyone would answer so he could acknowledge their presence. It was 10 straight minutes of individual names and voices from the crowd, and an occasional butchering of the pronunciation, and everyone laughing— It was all surprisingly lighthearted. Once it had gotten to the end of the list, Paul had stopped and looked closer at the last name.
“Tom. Tom Rhodes . Are you here buddy?”
“Yeah, right here man.”
Tom raised his hand as he felt hundreds of eyes land on him, looking at him with curious and confused faces, wondering why they’ve never seen his face before. A new person in their midst is not what the Red Army was expecting, especially with all the commotion going on outside the facility’s walls. But soon Paul had spoken to clear the air.
“Tom’s new, which is why he isn’t a familiar face. Hope you all can take time to welcome him when you see him around.”
Tom lowered his hand and he watched as people either waved at him, or murmured to the person next to them. Wonderful.
After roll call had ended and everyone cleared the courtyard, Pat and Tom waited for Paul to step off the podium and watched as he walked over to them.
“Hey Tom, what’re you thinking of doing today?”
“Hey Paul. I’m uh.. Not sure. Is there anything I can do?”
“Has Red Leader not given you anything to do yet? By now, you’d have at least a couple tasks to accomplish. Nobody really gets a grace period before they get to work.”
Tom remembered how tomorrow , he was going to have to tell Tord if he agreed to being his secretary or not. He realized how much time he didn’t have to make up his mind. Maybe he could ask them?
“Well— Tord did offer me something. It wasn’t just a job like a soldier or some sh*t.”
Paul and Pat stared at each other. What does Tom mean ? If not a soldier, then what else did Red Leader offer him? Pat looked back at Tom and asked.
“Wait— What did he say?”
“He asked me to be his Secretary. And he gave me three days to think about it. I have to tell him tomorrow.”
The two stopped, and Paul’s jaw had dropped.
“Seriously?!”
He pushed Pat aside and moved next to Tom.
“Mind you, this guy got here two days ago! Can you believe this?”
Paul punched Pat on the shoulder, which he responded to with a quiet “Ow!”, and so Pat rubbed his shoulder and answered Paul’s question.
“Actually, I can. Tom said they knew each other. Old friends, he said.”
“Old friends? That’s a lot of authority to give someone who was just an ‘old friend’ .”
Paul leaned in closer and eyed Tom. He wanted to know why the hell Red Leader was handing someone the Secretary position when he never seemed like he needed one. And especially to someone who nobody knew except him. It was weird.
“Well, we can’t question Red Leader. If he had the sensibility to ask Tom to be his secretary, then he surely knows him more than he knows us.”
“I’m right here!”
Tom interrupted, as he stood in the middle of the two. Pat rubbed his neck, and apologized.
“We’re sorry, we were just caught off guard. Were you two close or am I getting the wrong idea?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was wondering too. You must’ve been someone to him.”
Tom’s face flushed. He was embarrassed . He was getting asked all of these personal questions that he would rather not answer , and they were all in relation to Tord . He hadn’t even made it clear to himself how he felt about him, so how the f*ck would he be able to explain any of it to Pat and Paul? They were right though, it was strange how Tord didn’t think too much about offering him the position of secretary, which apparently had not been occupied before— Considering the way Paul and Pat reacted. What was Tord trying to do?
“I was his friend . Now can we please move onto something else—“
“Right— Sorry, sorry.”
Paul patted Tom on the shoulder and led him back inside. The three walked through the facility, talking about the usual tasks people got given. A group was in charge to patrol the perimeter outside the walls of the facility, which is where Tom got knocked out the first time, and the soldiers would usually take shifts. Another group was in charge of figuring out where the other armies or groups were stationed— Pat said that they had found a small group stationed in the forest area, but had no clue where they were from or if they were even part of one of the big groups at all. They still weren't able to locate The Resistance, which made sense, considering how good they are at being discreet. There were even more groups that the Red Army had, but for some reason Tord didn’t feel like putting Tom in any of them.
Most of the day, Paul and Pat basically gave Tom a tour around the facility, telling him where all of the important locations are, and how to find them. The hours went by fast as they talked about a bunch of other things over lunch and dinner too, like how they even met Tord or got themselves involved with the Red Army; Pat and Paul were friends before they met Tord, which is why they were closer to each other than to Tord himself. But as the hours passed, Tom still couldn’t make a firm decision. This was going to change his f*cking life. And Tord expects an answer tomorrow . But— Now that he’s gotten a vague idea on how the Red Army works and how the people are treated, it didn’t look so bad. The people joked around with each other and were pretty tight-knit it seemed. Maybe accepting Tord’s offer would be the smartest decision. But before that— He needed to get back his scarf from Tord. During dinner, while he was on the benches with Pat and Paul, he asked them where to find Tord.
“Do you guys know where Tord would be right now?”
“Well, since it’s almost eight, I’m assuming he’s in his room.”
Pat responded and raised a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
“Do you know how I could get there?”
Tom rubbed his arm and looked at them. They took a while to respond, but Pat answered.
“Why?”
“Well, uhm.. I left something in his flat— My scarf. I just wanted to get it back.”
“In his flat?”
“Yeah— Why?”
Paul and Pat turned to each other, and gave each other a look that Tom couldn’t decipher. But they both turned back to Tom, and Paul responded this time.
“You know where your room is right?”
“Vaguely.”
“His flat’s only a few doors to the left. Once you see the handprint mechanism next to the door, that’s how you know it’s his.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
He then stood up and waved at Paul and Pat, they waved back and Tom started walking towards where his room is. Once he found his door after walking for about 10 minutes and almost getting himself lost, he walked to the left, waiting to come across Tord’s room with the handprint mechanism next to the door. As soon as he saw it, he walked in front of the door and raised his hand to knock. But before he was able to do so, he started shaking. Why the hell was he getting so nervous ? It’s just Tord — Absolutely nothing to be afraid of. After he had miserably failed at convincing himself that he wasn’t scared, he quickly but quietly knocked on the door anyway. For a moment, it was silent— The air was thick. But Tom heard a silent click, and saw the door open with caution.
“What is it?”
Tord spoke to him quietly, without the irritation he got used to hearing when they were younger. Tord was looking at him through the open door, the warm lights of his flat making his helmet glow from behind. Does he never take off his helmet? Even while he’s alone ?
Staring at him made Tom almost forget why he was even at Tord’s front door.
“Uh.. My scarf. I left it by your bed— On the bedside table.”
Tord fully opened the door and gestured to his flat, letting Tom in. He walked in and took in the surroundings once again, the flat really was cozy at night. He glanced over at Tord, and he looked—
Fit.
He was wearing his red dress shirt and his tie, tucked into black dress pants. His coat was hung by the entrance, and he had his sleeves rolled up. The red metal of his mechanical arm glimmered under the lights, highlighting the scuffs and scratches all over them— And on his left arm, the lights brought out the outline of his other scars, and Tom didn’t know where they were from. There seemed to be more than the last time he saw his arm, which to be fair, was 8 years ago.
“I kept it somewhere, let me go find it.”
Tord led Tom to the couch and urged him to sit down. He walked into the room opposite the kitchen and rummaged through his drawers. Tom sat in silence waiting for Tord to give his scarf back to him. Once Tord approached him, he handed the scarf to Tom with his mechanical arm, Tom’s fingers grazing over Tord’s metal ones— He didn’t feel a thing .
“Thanks. I’ll be.. Uh.. Heading out.”
Tom stood up and started heading for the door, until—
“Hey— Wait.”
“What?”
Tom turned around to face Tord, his grip tightening around the red scarf.
“Do you have time to.. Grab a drink?”
Tom stared at Tord in disbelief. Huh .
A drink ? Other than the bar in Tord’s room, where else could they even grab a drink? And— What for? Was it because he knew that Tom had to tell him his decision tomorrow?
“Woah, I didn’t know Red Leader was one to bribe .”
Tom teased and wrapped the scarf around his neck, keeping it warm. Tord laughed; a real one, and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground.
“It’s— It’s not like that. For old time’s sake, y’know.”
He looked back up at Tom, dark silvery eyes staring deep into voided ones. Tom can’t deny a drink, he felt like he needed one.
“Right. How do you even get drinks in this place?”
“Actually, we have a bar. Only ever opens during ‘special occasions’ , but I go wherever I please.”
“Slick bastard .”
Tom could hear the slight smile in his voice. Tord slipped past him and opened the door, leading him outside to walk to the bar. They walked next to each other, Tord’s hands in his pockets, and Tom’s dangling side to side. Tom turned his head to look at Tord.
“Is ‘old time’s sake’ really the only reason why you wanna get drinks?”
“Pretty much.”
Tom moved closer to Tord, slightly nudging him.
“I mean, you could just tell me if you want me to say yes —”
“Oh lay off, asshole.”
Tord elbowed Tom back, pushing him away. The pair chuckled as they made it to the bar. They had to go in through the staff door, since the main entrance was closed off, as it should be. As soon as they made it in, Tom took a seat on one of the stools by the counter, and Tord walked behind, marveling at the sight of all the glasses and bottles.
Tord maintained a bartender job for a bit while he lived with the boys; Matt, Edd, and Tom. This job came with learning how to make many different drinks, to Tom’s convenience. Tord had all he needed right in front of him, all he could ask for was a request.
“What do you want? And don’t say something boring like a straight vodka shot . Give me something to work with, here.”
Tord ran his non-organic hand over the cups, hearing them make a ‘clink’ noise from the metal and glass. He turned around and folded his arms in front of him, tilting his head at Tom.
“I don’t know.”
“How about.. A Piña Colada? ”
Tom rolled his eyes and flipped Tord off.
“Haha. Funny.”
Tord laughed and took one of the glasses, placing it down in front of him. Tom thought about it, and a Piña Colada didn’t sound so bad, if he didn’t think about the implications . He stared at the empty glass in front of Tord and nodded at him.
“Fine, whatever.”
Tord swung a small cloth over his shoulder, and took the glass, turned around, and started on making Tom’s Piña Colada. He watched as Tord grabbed the white rum, coconut cream, and obviously pineapple juice— What’s a Piña Colada without pineapple? Tom rested his head on his palm, the other arm folded on the counter in front of him. His eyes followed Tord, who was fixing up his drink, he watched in awe , wondering how the hell he still remembered all of the recipes. But isn’t it ironic , though? Red Leader himself, fixing up some random guy’s drink. Except— Tom wasn’t just some ‘random guy’ , he was— Well— Someone to Red Leader. Someone who meant something to him. But nobody knew that, so did it even matter?
Tom lost himself in thought, staring at Tord. He was brought back by a subtle tapping on the drink in front of him. His eyes focused, and he saw Tord looking back at him, one eye locked onto his own, and the other swallowed by shadow. The co*cktail had a straw, a small slice of pineapple, and a little umbrella to go along with it. Cute.
“Hey. Your drink, sir .”
“ Sir? ”
“It’s a formality, min venn , you wouldn’t understand.”
Tom didn’t know if he was being serious or not, but he shrugged it off and took the drink. He sipped on the straw, feeling the cold sting of rum run down his throat, he hated to say how he missed that burning feeling. The drink was sweet , but not the kind of sweet that would make you feel like sh*t right after, so— Perfect .
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. But yeah, s’good. Decent.”
“Good to know I still got it in me.”
Tord wiped his hands on the cloth over his shoulder and set it down. He climbed over the counter and sat down on it, body turned towards Tom.
“I did bring you here for a reason, though.”
“Ah, you almost made me forget how much of a liar you can be.”
Tom looked down at the drink and took a sip of it. The statement came out with venom — Which caught Tord off guard. He decided to ignore it, there was no real reason to start a fight now.
“I wanted to ask, how has it been?”
“Is that it?”
“And have you made up your mind yet?”
“There it is.”
Tom knew Tord was bound to stir the conversation to whether or not Tom had made his decision yet. To be frank, he also knew what Tord wanted him to say , and he feared he was going to let him have it this time. He weighed his options, and he’d rather have a nice and clean office, hold a respectable title, and a decent ounce of authority, than be one of the Red Army soldiers. It’s the decision that made sense, right ? But he wanted to banter with Tord a little more, see what he’s going to say.
“I don’t know.”
Tom slowly leaned in, the liquid courage getting to his head. He gave Tord a smug expression and glanced back down at his drink.
“Do you want to try convincing me? ”
Tord can feel Tom trying to push his buttons. He wasn’t going to fall for it, not this time. He backed away and rolled his eyes.
“Smart.”
Tom stared at Tord and pushed the drink towards him, prompting him to take a sip.
“What if I did agree? What would it be like for me moving forward?”
“You’d have a decent office— Nobody really gets one of those around here, it’s kind of like a delicacy .”
“I’m surprised that you even know what that word means, but go on.”
Tord gave in and took a sip of the drink. It was good. All Tom did was watch him as he tasted the drink, and set it back down.
“You’d have a title no one's ever gotten before. And that would make you special. Imagine the benefits that come with that.”
Tom felt Tord playing into it. He isn’t as short-tempered with him as he used to be .
“Honestly, Tom, I’m surprised you’re even considering it. Knowing you, you’d hate to work under me. ”
“I don’t really consider it working ‘under’ ... It’s more ‘alongside’ .”
“Wow.”
Tom grabbed the drink and downed it in one fell swoop, feeling the simmering in his throat. Tord clapped. He watched as Tom set the empty glass down, and folded his hands on the counter in front of him, leaning forward once again, to say something to Tord.
“You don’t scare me.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Tom found himself laughing, and Tord laughed along with him. They looked at each other once again, and Tord spoke.
“So, do we have a deal?”
Tord stretched out his right hand and waited.
“Unfortunately, we do. ”
Tom took a hold of his hand and shook it. He just sealed his fate— A deal with the devil , if you will.
Tord held Tom’s hand and stared at it for a while, he soon placed his other hand on top of it, and nodded at Tom. As soon as he let go, Tom rubbed his hand realizing how cold Tord’s hands could be— Well, one was metal .
The two had cleaned up and exited the bar. And Tord had decided to walk Tom to his room, since his own was purposefully not so far away. While they were walking, Tord heard a quiet voice coming from the man beside him.
“Thanks for giving back my shirt , by the way. Didn’t think it would come back to me, or that you’d keep it.”
He looked at Tom, but Tom didn’t look back at him.
“Yeah.”
They made it to Tom’s flat, and Tord waved goodbye as he watched Tom close his door. He sighed and started walking back to his own flat.
Tomorrow’s surely gonna be something.
