Tomtord Oneshots (Completed)

our last fanfiction

word count: 12,773
prompt: future Tom x Tord

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴄᴏғғᴇᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ." ᴛʜᴇ Norwegian mumbled lazily, eyes not flicking up to look at his lieutenant.  Instead, his head remained low, down, looking at the papers assorted on his desk, eyes heavy with bore or tire; honestly, he didn't know the difference.

Another tonne of paperwork that had to be done sat patiently waiting on his desk; as if mocking him.

He let out a deep sigh, letting his forehead drop onto the deep spruce desk. He wasn't in a formal room having to sit with his back straight, so it was normal for him to act humanely and lazily when he wasn't in discussion with any other world or army leaders.

Tom nodded, his hands in his front pockets. "Right away, sir," he murmured, turning away as he left the room.

He returned with a coffee and a sandwich, his visor blinking. He placed it on the table in whatever empty place he could find.

"Is that all, sir?" he asked, head tilting as he crossed his arms. He blinked, waiting for the Red Leader's orders.

Please, for the love of god, don't ask him how he got into this mess.

The leader in front of the boy nodded his head, lifting himself up and leaning back in the leather chair.

"Dismissed." He mumbled, covering his face with his hands as he yawned, obviously tired.

He reached over for the sandwich, picking it up and eating at it slowly. Honestly, the fair-haired boy could fall asleep at anytime. No matter how hard he blinked or tried to keep his eyes open, they always fell back down, begging to close for a decent night's rest.

Too much paperwork. Far too much paperwork.

Tom backed up slightly, though stayed in the room. He paused for a moment, debating on how to form his sentence. Finally, he said, "Do you want me to do some of it?"

His shoulders tensed, half-expecting to receive a scolding for his nosiness. But, really, he couldn't help it. Tord looked damn exhausted, causing Tom to believe that the leader wouldn't finish it all without help. Of course, he avoided the word 'help'. Tord was probably too cocky for that.

Tord blinked, looking at Tom, chewing slowly. Finally, the words came out from his throat:

"Wouldn't you rather be in your room? You're dismissed. You have a free period, do you not?" Tord spoke, his words dragged and accent lazily thick.

Honestly, Tom's help would be appreciated, but Tord really didn't want to work Tom overtime.

"Do whatever pleases you, soldier." He mumbled again, picking up the black fountain pen that had lied on the desk, waiting for it to be used once more.

The leader placed his head in his palm, staring down at the paperwork, lazily signing them off.

Of course, he wasn't speaking formally with Tom. Not his strict tone, at least, when he was outside barking orders.

It was far softer, but not exactly 'gentle'. It still had bark, just not as much.

Tom let out a soft sigh, rolling his eyes. He grabbed an extra chair and pulled it up to Tord's desk. He paused, glancing up at Tord before grabbing an extra pen, taking some of the sheets. He opened his mouth, only to close it once more when he realized what he was about to say sounded hella gay.

Lame.

Instead, he said, "Of course I'll assist you. This stuff is a pain." He huffed slightly, internally thanking himself for learning how to forge Tord's signature long ago. He got to work, being sure to stay as silent as he could, not really wanting to annoy Tord.