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They’re fighting when it happens. Tord doesn’t even remember what the fight is about, he just knows Tom is angry and he wants to escalate that until it turns into something physical. Whether that’s a fight or a fuck, well, he’s not picky.
Tom is spitting something foul at him, his face scrunched up in outright fury and Tord absolutely can’t help himself.
“Y’know you’re cute when your angry.”
He expects Tom to launch into an even more fervent tirade. Instead he stops in his tracks and looks at Tord a little taken aback.
“Excuse me?”
Has he really never said something like that before? Why is Tom looking like he just slaughtered a lamb in front of him? Suddenly he remembers Edd’s advice. Maybe he should just say what’s on his mind for once, see where it takes him.
“I said you look really cute,” Tord says leaning down to get in Tom’s face. Tom’s mouth turns up just a bit at those words and his face fades to a deeper shade of red.
Tom scoots back only to find himself against a wall, which Tord uses as an opportunity to take a step closer.
“Can you stop being such a shit for five minutes,” Tom spits, getting riled up again now that he’s found himself cornered. He shuffles up the wall a bit more and Tord merely presses in closer in response.
“Why are you getting so flustered, hmm? Can’t take a compliment? I like the way you get all shy when people try to tell you how beautiful you are,” Tord teases. He reaches out to stroke the side of Tom’s face, half expect him to slap his hand away. Instead, very minutely, Tom leans into it. Holy shit. Edd is a god damn genius.
“What exactly do you want Tord?” Tom bites out. Curiously he sounds a lot less angry and a lot more nervous.
“I just want to tell you how I feel? Is that an issue?”
Tom merely looks off to the side, pursing his lips, but not responding. Tord rest his head on Tom’s shoulder very gently and says “Why don’t we take this upstairs?”
At that Tom his pushing him off him with a rough shove and an angry huff. Tord sees him turn on his heel and start to walk away. Confused and alarmed he reaches out and snags Tom by the wrist, to which Tom angrily tries to yank his arm out of Tord’s iron grip.
“Let go of me you ass. I fucking knew this was just a roundabout way of getting me to fuck you,” Tom spits, and boy is his face the much less attractive kind of angry. It’s colored with fury but under that is a layer of genuine hurt that is like a kick in the stomach to Tord.
“Woah, woah, woah, hey there elskede, calm down,” he says softly, hoping if he keeps calm, Tom will follow suit.
Tom’s face pinches even more and Tord swallows knowing that an onslaught of anger is coming his way like force five hurricane.
“Stop calling me that shitty nickname! I know it’s something fucking nasty or stupid, you shit.”
Tord covers his face with his hand in outright frustration. Tom is still tugging at his wrist.
“Let. Go,” Tom grits out.
“How about this, pull out your phone, open google translate and type what I tell you and I will let your hand go,” Tord says, keeping his voice level despite his roiling emotions.
Tom does as he asks, albeit with a glare and a lot of attitude. He shoves his hand into his pocket and whips out his phone.
“Alright, what is it?”
“E-L-S-K-E-D-E.”
Tom types it and the little window autocompletes the translation for him. He stares at the screen for a bit, blinking. Then he lets out a soft “oh”.
“Yeah, oh.”
Tom looks up at him and its dead on, straight in the eyes. His stare is piercing, questioning and it strips every bit of confidence away from Tord.
“Tord, I don’t- I am so confused,” Tom stammers.
“Well Tom, when someone calls you by terms of endearment, it usually means they like you,” Tord says a soft slow voice, like he is speaking to a child. His stomach feels like a lead weight.
“How the fuck am I supposed to figure that out when you never say it in English?”
“Fair enough,” Tord says, shrugging his shoulders. Despite his promise he is still holding onto Tom. He pulls Tom in to his chest by his wrist wrapping his arms around Tom’s waist and gently turning his face up to look at him.
“How about this. Tom, I think you are cute when you’re angry but that’s nothing compared to how beautiful you are when you laugh. When you smile its infectious, I can’t think of anything better to brighten up my day.”
Tom’s mouth opens a little and he lets out a very soft strangled sound. Tord laughs very softly at that. For once there’s no cruel tint to it, it’s just an honest chuckle.
“I like having sex with you yes, it’s always enjoyable, but even before that I liked you. I like listening to you play the base, watching cheesy horror movies with you, and yes I will probably always enjoy teasing you. But it doesn’t come from a place of hate or lust, it comes from a place of love. I love you Tom,” Tord says, and wow do those words come out feather light and then sit in the air weighing on the both of their minds like a ton.
Hands are around the back of his neck and Tord is being yanked down by Tom, pulled into a kiss. He doesn’t think Tom has ever kissed him outside the bedroom. Maybe not even in it. When he loosens his grip and lets Tord pull back a little, both of them breathing heavily, Tom looks up at him with a genuine grin that lights up his whole face in a sort of goofy, wonderful way.
“You are such an idiot.”
“Careful Tom, if I am an idiot, what does that make you?”
“A man with very enduring patience.”
“My ass it does you little shit, you yelled at me yesterday for standing in front of the fridge too long.”
“I had a hangover and needed water. I couldn’t wait for you to color coordinate the vegetables or whatever the fuck it was you were doing.”
“We’ll see how patient you are next time I have you under me,” Tord growls.
Tom smirks and tries to squirm out of Tord’s grip.
“Oh no, I’m not done with you,” Tord says, wrangling Tom in his grip. Tord presses soft kisses up Tom’s neck and Tom waits for him to bit but he doesn’t. He kisses Tom’s cheek instead and plants one on his mouth before pulling back and looking at Tom with this look that makes him feel like he’s in an elevator that is dropping ten floors a second.
“I really, really mean it when I say this, I adore you,” Tord says, and that light flush that never quite went away is now standing out proudly against Tom’s skin.
“Yeah well, I can maybe tolerate you more than I thought,” Tom mutters.
“Oh please, you can tolerate me like you can tolerate alcohol. Maybe even more. Dare I say you are attracted to me?” Tord teases waggling his eyebrows.
“Let’s not push it,” Tom says, but under his deadpan tone Tord can sense the stifled laughter.
Tord’s going to keep pushing it, and hope and dream for a day when Tom says those three little words back.