More Than Enemies {TomTord}

three

After his shower, Tom changed into ripped black skinny jeans and his usual blue hoodie. He walked back into the main room and saw Tord on the couch, watching TV with a bored expression.

Tom sat on the couch as well but as far away from Tord as physically possible. "Gimme the remote."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"I wanna watch a show!"

"This is a show!"

"I hate this one!"

"Too bad, Jehovah's!"

"I'm not accepting this!" Tom flung himself at Tord and attempted to grab the remote from his hands.

"Quit it, shorty!" Tord yelled and elbowed Tom in the gut.

Tom gasped in pain and punched his arm, hard. "You little shit!"

"You're a little shit!" Tord brought his hand up and pulled Tom's hair.

Tears formed in Tom's nonexistent eyes from the pain. He dug his nails into Tord's cheek and raked them down the skin, feeling blood well up.

"OW! FAEN!" Tord let go of Tom and dropped the remote, who caught it and sat back in his place.

"Don't mess with me, Sunshine Lollipops." Tom smirked.

"That hurt!" Tord stood up and stormed off to find a first aid kit.

"It was supposed to!" Tom called after him, beginning to look for a channel.

He hummed under his breath while continuing to look, then settling on The Children. Tord walked back into the room, a bandage placed on his cheek.

"I'm hungry." Tom complained. "I thought you made bacon?"

"Yeah, but, not for you," Tord sat on the floor this time away from the other male.

"Ugh. Is there any good places here?"

"I guess... and i'm kinda hungry too. That bacon wasn't enough."

--Time Skip--

"..and i'll just have the pancakes." Tom finished up his order.

The waitress scribbled down his order on a notepad before walking off.

Tord leaned back in his booth and looked out the window. He let out a small sigh, earning the raise of an eyebrow from Tom. Dramatic idiot.

"I need to get Smirnoff later on," Tom spoke up to break the silence.

"No."

"What!?"

"You are not getting drunk in my house."

Tom kicked Tord's leg under the table continuously.

"Stop playing footsies!" Tord hissed at him.

"Wha-!? I-I'm not!" Tom sputtered. His face turned a shade of red and he looked away.

"Riiiiiiiight."

They sat in silence until the waitress brought them their food. Tom dug into his quickly, chowing down. Tord glowered at him before eating his own more slowly.

Thirty minutes later and they were finished. She brought them their bill and Tom checked his pockets.

"Shit.." he mumbled.

"What?" Tord looked up at him from reading the bill.

"I forgot my wallet."

The Norwegian sighed and pulled twenty five dollars out of his pocket, placing it on the table. "It's on me. Not willingly, though."

Tom gave him a small smile but got a scoff in return.

"No tip?" the Brit tilted his head.

"No." Tord got up and tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie. "C'mon. I'm not waiting." He turned on his heel and exited the restaurant.

"Rude-ass norski." Tom said to himself before following him.

--Time Skip--

"Tord. Tord. Tord. Tord. Tor-"

"What is it, Thomas!?" Tord yelled at him from his place at the kitchen table. Papers were laid across it, probably bills, and a pen was in his hand. Another hand was tangled in his hair stressfully.

"I'm bored." Tom pouted.

"I don't care! Leave me alone, i'm doing something!"

"Uuuuuggghh..." he groaned. "I'm gonna explore your apartment."

"Fine! Just don't go in my room!" Tord snapped.

"Okay." Tom shrugged and rolled off the couch, landing on his back on the floor. He got up and walked down the hall, looking around.

There were a few picture frames. One was of Tord as a kid, his hair ruffled up and with a pouty face. He had a bandage over his nose and in the background was a wall with a bunch of drawings done in Sharpie. Tom smiled at that for some reason then punched himself in the arm to stop.

The other frame was of recent Tord. It was of him and two other males; one with bangs, the other with interesting eyebrows. They were all smiling into the camera.

Wow, he can smile. Tom thought to himself with a smirk.

Another was of Tord, Matt, and Edd. Tom was in the background of the picture sticking up the middle finger.

"I remember that," he said quietly.

Tom turned and walked into the bathroom. Bored and curious, he opened up drawers. That was until the last one. Inside was an old, blood-stained knife.

"Holy fucking shit." Tom whispered. He closed the drawer and looked at himself in the mirror with wide eyes. His breathing began to get shaky. "D-Does he...?"

While shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Tom splashed cold water on his face.