TomTord Oneshots

Blind!Tord x Tom

(Requested by @gingergiraffe101, sorry that this took so long to write.

AU where Paul and Pat never went to get Tord after the robo-explosion.)

    
   Tom sighed and parked his car on the dirt road, looking around where he was. He was parked in the side of a hill, overlooking a setting sun. He got out and walked up the rest of the way to the top, gulping as he stood there.
   It had only been about thirty minutes since, what his friends were starting to call 'the incident', already. Tord had taken a giant robot he somehow had hid under the house for years, blew up Edd's house, along with Eduardo's for good measure, killed Jon, and tried to kill Tom. Thankfully, the Brit got up from the debris of the house and shot Tord down with a harpoon gun he had bought earlier that week.
   
   After the robot exploded in a blaze of glory and the two groups had bit each other farewell forever, Tom had patched his arm up and was ready to go back to the wreckage on the hill. He had seen the robot crash there after exploding and wanted to see if anything could be salvaged from the wreck. He just hoped that he couldn't find Tord's corpse.
   He trudged over to the piles of glass and metal, still smoking as gasoline poured into small puddles through the twisted metal and small fires still sparked within the gas puddles. Tom walked through the wreckage, biting back tears. Why was he crying, has asked himself? He had always hated Tord, always fought. Why, all of a sudden, did he feel remorse about hurting, possibly killing, the sadistic communist who wanted to watch his friends burn?
   He pushed the thoughts aside and started to dig through the metal, looking for anything that wasn't twisted or exploded into shards. He sighed, not being able to find anything, until he spotted the crushed head of the robot. He stood there in silence for a moment, spotting his harpoon. To his astonishment, it wasn't blood stained. He walked over to it and picked it up, looking at the tip. He plucked a red piece of fabric off of the top and looked at it. It felt exactly like Tord's hoodie, and he guessed that the harpoon as speared his side or arm and taken a piece. A wave of dread suddenly hit him and he looked around. Suddenly, he wanted to know where Tord was. Has he somehow survived the explosion? Or was his body around somewhere? Or did someone come to pick him up for some reason?

   He decided to look for his enemy's body and started searching, gripping the fabric in one of his fists. He moved piece after piece of metal, not finding any trace of the commie. He put his harpoon in the box he had brought to put salvaged items in and grabbed an intact robot arm as well as he searched. For some reason, he felt like he would need it. As he looked, he spotted a huge slab of twisted, burnt metal on the hill, near the top overlooking the exploded houses. He walked briskly over to it and pushed it out of the way with a grunt of effort. The smell of burning flesh and blood hit his nose and he almost gagged as he looked down.
   Tord's body had been under the metal. He laid on his side, knees curled up to his chest. He looked like he was asleep, to Tom. One of his horns were split at the top and half of his face was ripped up and bloodied, along with the side sided arm, where the hoodie sleeve was ripped clean off. Tom almost started to cry until he saw a faint movement. Tord's chest rose and fall, but it was barely visible. He was still alive. But not for long, if Tom didn't help him. And Tom knew that. He picked the communist up to the best of his ability, the army leader weighing heavily in his arms. He ran back to the car, put Tord in the backseat to lay him down, and ran back. He grabbed the box with his harpoon and the robot arm in it, running back to the car. With that in the passenger seat, he sped back around the hill, going to his new apartment. He knew he had to hurry.

    Tord was groaning by the time Tom had gotten him patched up and on the couch. The commie was obviously in pain but Tom could do nothing except for  put a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the coffee table for Tord to take when he was conscious. The Brit sat near Tord, watching him carefully for signs of him waking up, which were mostly shown by him slightly wiggling and squirming on the couch, which he did on and off, but never seemed to wake up.
   After about an hour had passed, the commie's eyes suddenly snapped open and Tom flinched. One eye was still it's normal silver color while the other was ripped and torn, bleeding when the eyelid tore open the cuts again. Tord screeched and sat up in pain and Tom ran into the bathroom, grabbed a wet towel, and ran back. He knelt besides the couch and put the wet washcloth up to Tord's uncovered eye, making the commie hiss in pain.
  "Who's there?" He growled, his accent thick with sleep. Tom blinked in confusion.
   "Tord, it's me, Tom. Calm down." He muttered. The norski looked tight at him but didn't say a word, staring at Tom quietly. Only then did Tom notice that his good eye was grayer than normal, almost light blue, like it was glazed over. Tord opened his mouth to say something, then blinked.
  "Tom... I.... oh god... I'm so sorry..." he muttered, shaking his head as he turned away from the Brit, now holding the washcloth to his face. Tom felt a pang of pity in his heart.
   "It's ok, calm down. Apologies later, I need to make sure you're ok."
   "I'm in pain." Tord statues flatly. "... and I can't see."

   Tom looked at him confused, seeing his good eye was open, still looking glazed. "You... can't see?"
  "Everything's black." Tord blinked, his good eye going half lidded afterwards. "I.... I guess the explosion took my eyesight." Tom froze, an apology stuck in his throat, along with tears. Eventually, he gripped the couch's fabric tears slipping out of his eyes and down his cheek.
   "Tord... I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have blown you up, I-"
  "Shut up for once, Thomas." Tord muttered, his voice emotionless. "It wasn't your fault, this was all me. I was the one who betrayed you guys, you were trying to protect Edd and Matt... and yourself." He stated, his voice flat again. Tom blinked, tears silently rolling down his cheek. Somehow, Tord seemed to sense this and reached his good arm out, running his hand softly down Tom's cheek, wiping away the tears with a soft touch. The Brit was confused, his cheeks turning pink, but he did seem to like Tord's gentle touch, despite he commie being his enemy. He leaned against Tord's hand and stopped crying, smiling softly even if the norski didn't know. Tord smiled a bit as well, not knowing Tom was smiling, but happy that the shorter male had stopped crying. He moved over a bit and Tom got onto the couch, hugging Tord tightly after a moment.

   "I'm sorry.." Tord muttered, hugging Tom with his good arm as tightly as he could, for he had no feeling in his damaged one. "I'm so sorry..."
   "I forgive you." Tom muttered, burying his face into Tord's hoodie. For a split second, he asked himself what the hell he was doing. He was letting his damaged enemy into his home, letting the norski wipe his tears, and was now forgiving him? For almost killing him? "You can stay here for a while." Tom felt like someone else was speaking for him for that moment, before the feeling faded and he nuzzled against Tord, feeling warmth fill his chest for the first time around the norski. The blind male smiled, crying a bit himself now.
   He quickly wiped his tears away on his hoodie sleeve. "You mean it?"
   "I promise." Tom muttered through the red, blood stained fabric of Tord's hoodie. The blind norski nodded, hugging Tom tightly and close to him.

  For some reason, neither of them wanted to let go of each other.

(I'm kinda proud of this but I'm kinda not?

Have some fluff
Sorry for any mistakes)