Tomtord oneshot thingies i guess

Sick

(Quick warning: Slightly descriptive vomiting)
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In the dead of night, Tord was laying in bed. His fingers were wrapped around an erotic magazine, though he simply and leisurely looked over the comics with an almost bored expression. 

Though, after all, what should one do when they can't sleep? 

Maybe it was the fact that Tord didn't want to take a risk of being killed in his sleep by his enemy, or because he missed his other two friends who were gone for that night, but Tord was unable to relax enough to doze off. 

Perhaps that was a good thing, for if he hadn't been awake, he would've missed the sound of someone running in his house, slamming the door, and the most disgusting retching sounds he'd ever heard. 

Immediately hiding his hentai under the sheets, Tord whipped his head towards the door and stayed absolutely still. The sound of muffled grunting and water splashing into the toilet filled the room, Tord growing a look of disgust on his face. 

Edd and Matt weren't home, which meant the only person who could be throwing up was.. Tom. 

Eyes going back to being half lidded, Tord laid down again in his bed and continued reading. 

It wasn't his problem, and the last thing he wanted to do would be standing in the same room as his enemy while watching him throw up into a toilet. 

A minute passed, and Tord was soon met with abrupt silence. Tord perked up at the lack of sound, though he placed his magazine down when he heard something else. Light whimpering, small sniffles, Tord could hear the Brit crying. 

Eyes widening, Tord slowly sat up in bed, putting the hentai to the side once again. He silently crept over to the door, opening it just a crack to look down the hallway towards the bathroom. A yellow light could be seen glowing from the bathroom through the keyhole, slightly obstructed by what he assumed to be hair. 

Tord didn't know what to do. He was already out of bed, and the bathroom was only a few steps away, yet then again, so were the comfy sheets he'd left a moment ago. 

He could catch Tom crying, make fun of him and laugh sadistically at the memory of tears running down the Brit's cheeks. Or, he could go back to reading his magazine, put on some headphones and pretend he didn't hear a thing. 

Of course, he could also offer comfort to the boy, but that option was immediately disqualified in his mind. 

Toes silently pressing against the hardwood floor, Tord crept as quietly as he could across the hallway. The sound of sniffling came closer, the Norwegian soon finding himself right in front of the bathroom door. 

Then, he hesitated. What was his plan? Would he simply barge into the bathroom, whip out his phone, snap a few pictures of Tom's tears, then run away? 

It might be immoral to want to see your enemy in tears just to laugh at them, but even Tord wouldn't be so cruel. 

Two knocks were heard against the door, followed by a soft voice from the Norski. 

"Tom? Can you keep it down? Your vomiting is making my hentai-reading-experience go to places I don't want to imagine."

Gotta keep up appearances. 

Sadistic excitement bubbled up in the Norwegian as he heard the sound of a toilet flush, followed by soft footsteps leading to the door. Light flooded his vision as the disheveled Brit came into view, Tom holding onto the door shakily to keep himself up. 

Tord had expected to be pleased with the sight of Tom's emotionally beaten down face, yet he was honestly surprised to find himself almost feeling bad for the other.