Complete Again (TomTord Mpreg)

Eleven

Two days of comfortable silence pass. No word from the outside, not even news coverage, and that let Tord spend a blissful amount of time around Tom and Matt without complication.

Matt went back to his makeup, concealing his eye and his scar, much to Tord's disappointment. He understood, sure - he himself wished to just have a normal face, but Matt used to be so confident. He used to smile just for the hell of it, and brag about how cute he was. Now, he apologized to anyone who looked at him for too long.

Tord saw Tom drinking a lot less now that he was here. He hoped the reason was because he was so occupied with Tord that he forgot to pour himself a glass. A change for the better, of course, but it was an unexpected one.

"Hey, Thomas?" Tord looked up from the laundry he was folding, watching Tom as he shoved a heap of damp clothes into the dryer.

"What's up, commie?"

"I-..." God, how could he phrase this? "You've...you've put down the Smirnoff. Why?"

Tom was silent, spare for a few grunts of effort as he shoved the clothes in further. Once he was done, he stood up to face Tord, his face uncharactically calm. "For the baby," he said plainly. "I don't wanna be a repeat of my dad."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...he was a bitch." Tom laughed lightly as he slammed the dryer shut. His hand awkwardly moved to touch his cast. "Motherfucker thought it would be fun to stay drunk off his ass all the time."

"Did he...?" Tord trailed off, but the words he wanted to say were all too familiar to Tom.

"Yeah..." Tom breathed. "Yeah, he hit me and Maggie. Mom too." Tom looked down at the floor for a moment, kicking a forlorn sock. "After they split, we were in paradise. He got arrested for possession of crack. Fucking crack cocaine, can you believe it? He was pulled over for a DUI, but they found the coke bag in his hoodie pocket. And the coke bag in the glove box...and the coke bag under his seat." Tom scoffed, finally picking up the sock and putting it in the dryer with the rest. "Fuckin' idiot." He put his hands in his hoodie pocket, sighing softly. "Edd helped me through the whole thing with his art. You see...my dad had dreads, but he always wore them in a nasty ponytail that stuck straight up. He looked like a deformed pineapple, and Edd drew him that way." He glanced to Tord. "Of course, Matt got to kill the pineapple in the comics, lucky bastard."

Tord laughed before hesitating. "...I'm glad he's gone, and I'm glad you're changing. You're not like him at all."

"God, I hope so." Tom pressed the button to start the dryer before sitting on the ground in front of Tord, the hamper basket separating them. "It's my biggest fear. I could-..." he paused, picking his words. "I don't want to hurt you."

"And you're not going to." Tord smiled, setting one of Tom's old shirts in the hamper. "You're gonna be a great dad."

Tom lit up, his face flushing. "You really think so?"

Tord nodded, his smile never leaving as his hands moved to his stomach. "Matt told me how excited you are...Made me really happy, to be honest. Here I thought you were scared of me!"

"I used to be," Tom put his hands on the mouth of the hamper, drumming his fingers on the plastic. "In secondary school, I used to think you were trying to ruin my life, to be frank. Trying to take my friends, trying to take it all away from me, but..." his fingers stopped cold. He held them there for only a second before picking up a shirt and helping with the folding. "Matt was the one who told me you came here from nothing. You were just...trying to find something that worked for you."

"And then you tried to teach me more English after that." Tord added, scanning the basket for matching socks. "You weren't exactly a prophet, but you got the job done."