TomTord oneshots

Tom what the heck

Tord's head ached. He couldn't see anything, even when he opened his eyes. Eyelashes fluttering against cloth, he realized he had a blindfold over his eyes.

He tried to pull apart his hands that had somehow gotten behind his back, but stopped when harsh rope dug into his wrists.

Was he kidnapped?

His memory was fuzzy, so somebody had to have drugged him. Naturally, his captor was smaller than him, otherwise they would have used blunt force.

But how did they get into the base? A spy? An intruder?

Or somebody he trusted?

Never mind. He didn't need to know the 'who' right now. He needed to know the 'what'.

The 'what' being 'what the hell happened to him', of course.

Before he passed out, he had been talking about war plans. They were in the conference room, talking about... Britain?

Yes, Britain.

But that's probably not important.

Was it something he drank? Maybe his coffee.

No, that can't be it— he made that coffee himself.

The conference is out of the question, then. It was the only thing he had ingested.

Fast forward— he was walking down the hall, alone, strides wide and head scanning the area. He wasn't woozy, so he probably hadn't been drugged by then. He had been looking for something— but what?

Something small? No, it was something big. Something... important. An animal? No. His files? Surely he wouldn't misplace those.

A person?

Yes.

A person.

He was looking for a person.

But he didn't find anybody; he could remember that. Not even a hint of blue.

Ah, that's right!

He had been looking for Tom.

But, he never found the Brit.

Somebody hit him over the head and knocked him out before that could happen.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Where was he, and where was his captor?

"Ah, you're awake."

Speak of the devil and you shall receive.

But...

That wasn't the devil.

That was Tom.

"Sorry— I guess it was kinda rude of me to drug you even after I knocked you out. I just doubt I could win— shut up! — I doubt I could win in a fight with you and I really didn't want you to wake up."

Now, then.

Tord was really confused.

One— he hadn't been talking. His lips stuck together as though they had been glued. So... who did Tom yell at?

Two— why would Tom kidnap him? What the hell was going on?

His blindfold loosened then slid off him, causing him to squint as he adjusted to the newfound light.

Tom was crouched down, face to face with Tord.

His lips were upturned into a smile, eyes widened just a little bit. Happy, his skin shone in the light, perfectly red, dusty cheeks far more visible, and...