Is this possible!? |•|Tordtom|•|

The end of the beginning

Tom was the first one awake one mid December morning. The twins, nearly full term, refused to let the poor man get much rest. And here he lay, on his back, staring at the ceiling listening to the rhythm of Tord's breathing. Tom began to mentally go over what was needed, he knew he had nearly everything, but it never hurt to be sure. There were; clothes and nappies and toys and a buggy made for twins, Tom was fairly confident that the house had everything it needed to welcome two little lives. He felt rather confident too, having read many parenting books and websites to ensure the children didn't have the same childhood as he did. Tord seemed excited as well, they both had the chance to create the stable and loving environment that they were so cruelly robbed of when they were young.

Tom rested one hand on the bump. "Inger, Leif, I promise you that I will never hurt you, and I love you." As if responding one of the twins shifted about, kicking his hand. Tom smiled, glad to know that the twins were apparently listening. "You two will never know the pain I do. Or the pain of your pappa. We will always love you, no matter what you do. I promise you this." He shifted so he was sitting up, and turned to look at Tord.

Tord was stretched out in the bed, one arm under his pillow, one foot exposed to the cold air. His hair was a mess, it's caramel locks knotted. Despite the apparently uncomfortable position Tord was dead to the world. His mouth slightly agape and he let out soft snores. Tom chucked and ran one hand through one of Tord's hair horns. This caused Tord to make a small sound, but stay asleep.

Tom looked up at the clock and sighed, nine am. He had another appointment with the red army about the children in about an hour and a half. He decided to wake Tord. He shook the taller man slightly. "Tordy. Get up, we have to get to your army of adult toddlers in an hour and a half"

Tord grunted then opened his good eye. "Did you just call the army that owns at least four countries "an army of adult toddlers"? Because if so, that's fucking hysterical." His voice was low, mumbled with tiredness and almost indecipherable due to how thick his accent was.

"I did just insult your army, now get your ass up. We have an hour to get ready." Tom said, awkwardly getting out of the bed to get dressed.

Tord rolled his eyes and groggily sat up. He blinked a few times before getting out of the prison of blankets. "Why are you so awake?" Tord yawned.

"The kids have been keeping me up for too long, do you know how hard it is to sleep?" Tom stumbled to one of Tord's hoodies and pulled it over his head. He then walked to his trousers, some maternity ones, made to look like jeans. "They fidget about and I can't lay on my front anymore." Tom laughed before fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

"Ah, well please stop complaining. It was utterly your own fault. If I do remember correctly it was you who begged and told me to not bother with protection because 'I don't have an STD, I'm fairly sure you don't, and there is no way I can get pregnant' look what happened, you got pregnant." Tord laughed and walked over, hugging Tom from behind, one hand resting on the bump where the twins curled, he put his head on Tom's shoulder. "And it is the best possible thing we could have done." Tord's tone was soft, yet still tired.

Tom smiled. "They're going to have a good life. Ain't gonna be nothing like mine. They will always know how loved they are, by both of us. And if we can't provide adequate care, well, there's always Edd and Matt to help out." Tom wormed from Tord's embrace.

Tord nodded and shoved his hoodie over his head. He then ran one hand through his hair until it looked somewhat passable as hair and not a misshapen caramel mop glued to his head. "Let's grab some food and get going."

A nod was the response. "Do we have orange juice?" The tone used was soft, almost wistful. "I'm just really craving it."

The Norwegian cast a glance at the heavily pregnant Brit. "I think so?" His tone was unsure. With a shudder he remembered the last time they didn't have one of Tom's cravings. It had been late at night, about eleven pm, the four men had watched a film together. Just as it was about to end Tom had asked if there was any Edam. Tord was sure there was some so told Tom this. Apparently he had been false. This lack of a particular mild Dutch cheese caused Tom to lock himself in the bathroom and cry, not coming out until Edd had to beg Eduardo for some. Edd had been pissy for days after because his dignity was in shards.