Complete Again (TomTord Mpreg)

Fourteen

For the first time in months, Tord felt awful. Absolutely terrible.

He hadn't felt this nauseous in months, and he was struggling to hide it from his friends. He didn't want to cause them any more stress than he already was, after all, especially after last week's fiasco at the thrift store. But it was becoming impossible to hide.

Tord hated vomiting.
Even this late in the pregnancy, he still wasn't used to it. Sickness left him alone for a great deal of this, so to have it come back in the third trimester was nothing short of worrying.

He got sick earlier at around midnight, and was praying that Tom was far too fatigued to notice his heaving. There was a groan from the bedroom, but not much more. Hoping the coast was clear, he tried to sneak out of the room.

"Why are you up, hun...?" Tom's voice came softly, still coated in sleep. He was sitting up now, rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Tord shook his head. "Just a bit under the weather. I'll be in the living room if you need me."

Tom groaned and mumbled a "Love you," before falling right back asleep.

The worst part about this was that he had a near constant backache, and his stomach hurt like hell. This was the longest the baby had gone without moving, but even if they did move, he doubted that he could focus on it.

Tord knew the basics about pregnancy and labor from the internet, but nothing prepared him for this. Even god-knows how far along he was, he hadn't talked to any knowledgeable person about it, spare for Edd. His other friends likely thought Tord knew what he was doing, so they left him alone, only asking how far along he thought he was when he first showed up at the apartment.

Tord laid awake on the couch in Tom's shared apartment, head resting on the arm of it while both hands cradled his aching gut. It was about two in the morning according to the microwave's clock, and Tord saw no end to this pain. At first he thought it was something he ate, but he had thrown up everything until he was heaving dry, leaving nothing in his system that could do this to him. He didn't even have it in him to eat - everything he had tried to eat came right back up, to the point where he didn't even feel hungry anymore. He knew how it worried Tom to see Tord turn down food, but he just couldn't stomach anything.

Every few minutes now, there would be a pain that would make Tord's toes curl in discomfort. He knew it couldn't be labor though - everyone online said that it felt like they were dying, and he hardly felt anything aside from physical sickness. This was nothing. He had been in the army for eight years, he felt like he could handle this. He was put through worse before, after all.

He could take this. He'd be fine.

Out of boredom, he decided to time the pains using the stopwatch on his phone.

They were even. Eleven minutes apart exactly.

Tord knew that somebody had to be shitting him. He was early, and no amount of uniformity convinced him that this was it. He would still move, still walk and talk normally, so he brushed these pains aside as nothing more than false. Labor was supposed to feel like he was dying, and right now, he just felt like he had a head cold with a bit of cramping.

But the fact that the pains were even was scaring Tord more than he would like to admit. Tord was certain that if he took some medication and waited it out, it would disappear, but the other half of him was convinced that this was a repeat of his stress induced cramping. If that was the case, he didn't want to be alone.

Tord forced himself up from the couch, ignoring the pain as he wrapped a blanket around himself, walking calmly to the door.

Matt and Edd must have been having some sort of childish sleepover, because they both came to the door when Tord knocked.