TomTord oneshots

One Thing

Tom shot up, blood shot eyes and heavy breathing. No doubt in it, he was a mess. There was just one thing thing bothered him, one thing that haunted him since the day he left highschool.

Tord

Why and how could he think about about commie bustard? Rather yet have nightmares about him dying? Frankly he shouldn't be this stressed over it he should be happy! Yet he can't, he can't bring himself to smile when he thought about the things that might happen, will or are happening to Tord. Its not fair, sure he may have done plenty of bad stuff but he didn't deserve everything that people did and said to him. He's being mistreated..

'What the hell is wrong with me?!'

'That one stupid fling and now I'm all over him, like I need to save him and be his Prince in shining armour. No way in hell! I just have to get rid of this stupid feeling and drown that stupid cute commie bastard! Gah!'

Tom flung his legs over the bed and stood up shakily, the nightmare made his whole body numb so it hurt to even stand yet alone walk. "Whatever, I need alcohol." He groaned, gripping his flask and rushing out of the room to the best of his abilities, which mind you, was still particularly slow.

He managed to make his way to the kitchen in less than 10 minutes and grabbed a bottle of vodka. "Fuck it!" He just took sips from the bottle, too lazy to actually pour it in his flask. He won't be going outside so what's the point of all the extra work? To look like less of an alcoholic? News flash, he was one, no point in trying to hide from the truth when it's so obvious and painted on a silver platter for you.

His displeasure could be heard from the groan released the exact moment the doorbell rang, 'What the hell, I thought people finally got it through their thick skills that I don't like them." He walked sluggishly to the door, hearing the doorbell go off one more time before he swung the door open the brute strength.

"What the hell do y-" He looked at the frail boy standing in front of him, 'Tor-' "TORD?" His expression changed before he sat the bottle down, grabbing the others shirt collar and shoving him inside. "How long?" Tom slammed the door, pinning the other against a wall. "H-how long what?" He smiled, clearly very nervous under the British man's gaze. "I'm not stupid, how long have you been roaming around and haven't bothered to call, text, contact or come see me immediately?!" He half yelled not wanting to scare the other too much, just enough to confess.

"2 weeks! Alright?! I was just scared and worried you would hate me and throw me out the moment you saw a glimpse of me, I couldn't deal with you hating me... Or the fact that you would say it to my face so I waited until I mentally forced myself to come up here and face you."

He took a deep breath and looked up at Tom, regretful and apologetic eyes were what Tom received. "You idiot, I would never truly hate you, now come on you made me worry so fucking much and the amount of nightmares you caused me is ridiculous! Come with me now." He backed away, grabbing Tords hand and leading him towards the bedroom, not forgetting his trusty vodka of course.

"Cuddles?" Tords eyes begged, and of course Tom nodded his head, getting in bed and under the covers, waiting for his liver to take off his shoes and join him.

Minutes later they were huddled up like bears, cuddling and sharing the warmth between the two.

Just the one thing I needed.