Trashed TomTord Fanfics

It Smells Nice...? [Fluff]

Aaa!! I didn't know I deleted this until now!
Here it is, re-uploaded!
Don't worry, more fluff is to come!
(I sin way too much)

Today was laundry day in the house and it was Tord's turn; the task being to put the wet clothes in the dryer and distribute the dry clothes in piles. The dryer played a joyful tune, signaling that the drying was done and the clothes were ready. Tord, of course, could hear the alarm from all the way in his room.

With a low groan of annoyance, Tord put down his hentai magazine to get up and tend to his chores. He thought he at least would have an extra 20 minutes to himself and his hentai, but that alone time will come when he gets the laundry over with.

He creeped out of his room and down the hallway, towards the clothes machines. When he had got there, he threw out the dryer's door and crawled at the clothes in a pathetic attempt to have them tumbling own of the machine. Once all articles of clothing were spilt on the floor, Tord got down on his knees and scattered the clothes in messy piles for the proper owner of the heaps of fabric.

He had picked up a shirt that had the words "Smeg Head" displayed on the front, already knowing it belonged to Edd. He had pulled out a pair of matching pink socks with orange squares, assuming they belong to Matt. It continued on with Tord assuming what clothes belong to who and what piles they go in. Halfway through the task at hand, Tord pulled out a familiar blue hoodie. This belonged to Tom.

It came to no surprise that, even with the hoodie being washed thoroughly, it still stench of booze and depression. A certain tangy smell made its way to Tord's nose just by holding the hoodie by his face, a couple feet away. It should be impossible to be able to smell the article of clothing from feet away, but yet here Tord was: smelling it.

It had multiple smells to go along with the booze and depression, smells that weren't identifiable at first. It had a hint of salt, almost tear-like, and sugar. Maybe some cinnamon, the kind that burns your nostrils.

The discovery of Tom's smell intrigued Tord. Never before has he had the opportunity to know how the alcoholic smelled like, and even then he was still confused on why a cinnamon-like smell was wafting around it. Did Tom eat cinnamon? Was that his cologne?

It took awhile of Tord just staring at the clothing to notice that he was practically procrastinating his job. The quicker he gets this done, the faster he could get to his hentai.

He put down the hoodie in Tom's small pile of clean clothes and went to sort out the rest of the clothes. Grey socks, Edd's. Checkered pants, Tom's. Khaki shorts, Edd's. Jean jacket, Matt's. Camo shirt, Tord's.

The sorting went on for a while, but once the last pair socks was put into it's respective pile, Tord grabbed a random pile of clothes to drop off to the owner's.

The first pile was Matt's, making Tord walk carefully down the hall with his huge pile of fancy and fashionable clothes. Once making it up the stairs, to the attic, Tord threw the pile in a corner of the room without a word while Matt wrote down his self worship schedule in his calendar. Tord then ran down stairs quickly to get the next pile; Tom's.

Already picking up the pile, Tord could smell the strong stretch of Tom. It floated clumsily in the air, burning Tord's nose and making him feel self aware of the smell rubbing off onto him.

He made himself down the hallway, taking his time knowing full well that opening that door would lead to an unwanted interaction with the alcoholic himself. However, he had to get to the door at some point, so when he did he knocked remembering Tom's pet peeve of being walk in on.

It took a couple seconds of silence before a 'what?' coming from the other side of the door.

"I have your clothes." Tord replied back, biting back a negative tone to stop from appearing in the mood to fight.

"Leave it outside by the door." That was obviously Tom not wanting to have anything to do with Tord. The Brit never wanted to even look the Norwegian lately and it was slightly becoming irritating, what with all the days that he'd come in the room and the Brit just getting up and leaving as if Tord was an unwanted party guest. Tord had half the mind to not just put Tom's clothes outside on the front porch where it'll hopefully rain, drenching all the clothes and causing Tom to live without clean clothes for another week.

But, instead, Tord breathed and dropped the clothes without ease. However, as the clothes piled clumsily in the middle of the hallway, Tord caught sight of Tom's signature hoodie. The same hoodie that smelled of booze, depression, tears, sugar, and cinnamon. And, Tord sniffed the air, it had a hint of pineapple and plastic.

The smell was growing on Tord, now. It almost watered his mouth and, for some strange reason, he liked it.

Bending down to pick it up, Tord pulled the fabric of the hoodie up and into his arms, cradling it like a baby. He like the burn in his nose now. The smell of the cinnamon that, if he focused good enough, dominated over all the other smells.

Pineapple and plastic were pretty good aromas as well. Including that hint of metal that reminded Tord of a cleanly washed knife.

Without a second thought, Tord turned around his by the hells of his feet  and walked down to his room, completely forgetting about the fact that the hoodie he was carrying was not his, plus Edd's pile of clothes that had yet to be given.

Awe well.

Think of this as a break. However, this break was filled with smelling Tom's hoodie and not thinking at all about the hentai magazine that was shoved off the bed in order to make room for Tord's laying down position.

>Fin<