TomTord Oneshots

Whiskey Lullaby

(More angst because I am evil. (I need to stop writing feels...) This is also based off of another country song I love called, well, Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley. Please listen to it before reading this shot! I have a link up above.

Two things:
One- this shot is a Saloonatics AU. I thought it fit the song.
Two- I know, in the song, the guy means that 'putting the bottle to their head and pulling the trigger' means they died of alcohol poisoning, but come on. This AU is about the Wild West. I'm going to use actual guns.

Enjoy the feels! I've never written anything saloonatics before, but I've always wanted to. I can do more if you want. (ThomTodd is adorable. I think that's the ship name, anyways).)

Thompson sat at the bar table in the saloon, his head in his arms with a moonshine bottle in front of him. Usually, he would take normal whiskey, but he needed something to kill his pain. Something strong. He closed his one good eye, for the other was shot out long ago by some bandit. He sighed deeply and sat up, taking another drink of the moonshine as it burned the back of his throat. He layed his head back down on the table as he heard the saloon's door swing open and someone walk up to him. He looked over to see his friend, Edward.
"Thompson? Bud, what are you still doing here?"
"Drinkin'. What do ya think?" He snapped back. Edward sighed.
"Come on, let's get ya out of here."
"I don't want to go." He growled and took another drink of his alcohol.
"Come on, Thomas. It was a break up, get over it." Edward stated, using the sheriff's first name. Thompson glared.
"I knew him for the longest time. He was the nicest guy I ever met! And then... only find out he was my enemy..." he trailed off, choking back tears. "I was willing to live with it... but... he just left. Left for good. I don't even know where he went..." he took another gulp of his moonshine. Edward sighed and picked up the smaller male, putting him on his feet as the sheriff swayed in place.
"I'm getting you home. That's final." He stated coldly and dragged Thompson out of the saloon by his overcoat. The sheriff decided not to fight back.

Thompson paced back and forth in his small house. The moonshine still had its effect on him, but it was slowly fading. Why couldn't he get Todd off his mind? Or, should I say Tord, the Red Bandit that stole his heart and got away with it. He was probably gone, forgetting about Thompson. He probably only said he loved him to hide from him.
He decided the pain was too much. He saw his belt over on the table and grabbed his trusty pistol from it. He smiled a little bit after writing a note stating he loved Tord to death. And then he put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

"Come on, let's just go home..." Matthew stated, rubbing Edward's back as the smaller deceptive cried in front of the grave. He slowly nodded and started following his prince friend out of the graveyard. He passed someone he never thought he would see again and stopped, glaring at him with tears spilling out of his eyes. The bandit stopped, looking at him. He didn't have his disguise on, just his normal outfit.
"What is it? Why are you, of all people, crying?" Tord asked. Edward snapped.
"YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!" He screamed and went to punch Tord, but Matthew held him back. Tord looked at them confused as Edward broke down in tears and turned to Matthew, burying his face in his shirt.
"I killed... who?"
"Thompson." Matthew glared at him. "You decided to leave him. He said he was going to be fine with you being the Red Bandit, but you left. He drank until he shot himself in the head." He stated coldly. Tord's eyes widened as the two left. The bandit slowly made his way through the graveyard, his eyes scanning the names. He then spotted one and stopped, tears forming in his eyes.

Here lies Thomas Thompson
May the great sheriff Rest In Peace

"Thomas...." Tord whimpered under his breath as he broke down.

Tord chugged down another bottle of whiskey, slamming it down when he was done. Paul, one of his partners, looked at him.
"You should stop."
"You should learn to shut your trap." Tord growled back. Paul gulped and looked at his boyfriend, Pat, who looked back at him.
"Boss, really. Stop."
"Fuck you." Tord growled again.
"He was nothing. He was going to betray you, we knew it." Paul stated. Tord narrowed his eyes and got up, throwing a punch aimed at Paul's jaw. It hit and a sickening crack was heard.
"Tord! Stop!" Pat screamed, narrowing his eyes as Tord held Paul by the front of his shirt. "Punching him was enough." He stated. Tord sighed and dropped him, walking out of the room of their base and down the hall to his room.
He had been like this ever since the day he found out Thompson killed himself. He stayed based outside of the town, for some reason. Every day he remembered disguising himself as a bartender and serving drinks to Thompson, learning more about him. He remembered the day the sheriff told him he loved him, and the two kissed outside of the bar. Tord's mistake was telling him the truth; that he was Thompson's worse enemy. Without a warning, he ran away. He guessed that was what broke Thompson's heart and made it unfixable.

He spotted his pistols on his beside table and smiled bitter sweetly. He grabbed one of them and looked around, sitting down on his bed. He spotted something on his table. A sheriff badge; the one Thompson used to wear. The smaller male gave it to Tord as a gift to remember him. He grabbed it and smiled, tears running down his cheeks as he held it close to his chest.
He raised the psitol, cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger, going down the same way that Thompson did.

Paul sighed as he squeezed his grip on Pat's hand. The two stood in front of two graves. One, with the name of a sheriff they never met. The other, their boss and their close friend. The two were buried next to each other, since everyone knew how much the two loved eachother.
"Let's just... let's go. The train's gone leave soon, we have to catch it." Paul stated, wiping andew tears from his eyes. Pat just nodded, staying silent as his cheeks stayed stained with tears. Paul led him away from the graves and towards the nearby trains tracks before hopping into one of the carts.