Chapter Text
Tom is laughing as Tord is red-faced and struggling to put down a set of words. They are playing his least favorite game, scrabble. He doesn’t know why Matt insists on playing these stupid games that more often than not bore everyone to tears, but here they are.
“Having problems over there, eh commie? You want some help?” Tom says as he leans on one hand and gives Tord a mock sympathetic smile.
“How about everyone who doesn’t speak more than one language gets a score deduction of fifty points,” Tord snarks back.
“Hey, leave Matt and I out of this, we respect your English illiteracy,” Edd says as he flicks one of Matt’s pieces off the table while the other is distracted. It happened to be the only vowel Matt had left.
“Oh please Edd, don’t pity him, English isn’t that hard to learn,” Tom says, waving his hand lazily.
“Oh yeah? Well if languages are so easy to pick up, why don’t you learn Norwegian?” Tord says through gritted teeth. Tom smiles back.
“Why don’t you teach me?”
Tord pales a little at that and then recovers himself, rolling his eyes, “Yeah right, like you need another reason to get pissy with me.”
Tom’s eyes narrow at that, “Why, what do you say when you-.”
“Alright, this game is going on long enough without you two bickering all throughout it, finish the game, then finish your argument,” Edd sighs as Matt puzzles over how he is going to spell his own name on the board now that his ‘A’ is gone.
Tom and Tord both shut up on that subject, but while Tord makes light conversation throughout the rest of the game Tom is dead quiet, which Tord can only take to mean he isn’t planning on letting their derailed topic go. He expects Tom to confront him after the game, but instead Tom immediately leaves to go upstairs.
Tord shrugs it off as Tom being his usual moody self. He forgets about it until almost a week later when Tom is in a considerably better and feistier mood. Tord has him pinned under him on his bed and is kissing his way down Tom’s neck, whispering sweet little phrases in Norwegian as he does so. Just a few of his favorites like, “You’re beautiful” and “I like the sounds you make” and his favorite and most often said “You are so precious to me.”
It’s the only time he allows himself to output all these emotions that kind of sit inside him. They just flow out when he sees Tom happy and smiling underneath him, flushed and punch drunk on just being with him and having a nice time gently cuddling together. Here where his secret is just with him and the four walls, he lets himself do as he pleases.
Tord looks up and notices Tom isn’t smiling as he usually is. Instead he looks frustrated and focused.
“Is something wrong?”
“I can’t understand any of the words your saying to me?”
Tord gets a knowing grin on his face, “And how is that different from normal?”
“I memorized like fifty different words and you are using none of them,” Tom said, and Tord’s smile grew wider as he noted the beginnings of a pout forming at the corners of Tom’s mouth.
“Oh yeah? What are some of those words?” Tord asks, quirking an eyebrow. He braces himself for pure hilarity.
What he gets is a slew of words so foul he could probably only see being used to write a card for his sister. Whore. Slut. A very creative description of Tord’s dick. Just fifty different awful words that Tord has never in his life used towards another person, though he’s read them plenty.
Tord leans back and rubs his temples. “You don’t recognize any of the words I say to you because I don’t talk to you like you think I talk to you.”
“How do you talk to me then?” Tom asks, squinting up at him. He’s folded his arms across his chest and looks thoroughly put out.
Tord smiles and reaches a hand to rub his cheek, then says in Norwegian, “Smile, you look much prettier when you smile.”
“Want to answer me in English?” Tom asks and that frown is getting deeper, carving harsh lines in Tom’s face.
Tord gets right up in his face, pushing his so they are nose to nose. Tom looks nonplussed. Tord chuckles.
“Learn Norwegian,” he says and kisses Tom on the nose before standing up and getting off the bed. He ignores the several nasty names Tom calls him in garbled Norwegian as he exits the room.
A week later Tord learns he has created a monster. Well… a second one.
Tord thinks Tom struggling to learn Norwegian is funny enough. Tom has been coming up to him all week asking him to say things to him in Norwegian and then writing down the words, walking away again. Sometimes he says something like “You look cute when you get so focused,” and Tom catches on the words “you” and “cute”. He gets this odd mix of flustered and annoyed and it’s almost as adorable as it is funny.
Sometimes, when Tom gets fed up with trying to learn household items he just points to them and looks at Tord. Or when they watch tv or eat dinner. How do you say “pizza”? How do you say “commercial”? How do you say “stop smirking you shit”.
The joke of Tom’s horrific accent hasn’t gotten old for Tord either. He tries, he really does, not to burst into laughter whenever Tom opens his mouth to struggle over the syllables. Tom has only once admitted that he finds Tord’s accent attractive. Tord has now told Tom several times his accent is his favorite thing.
Then he discovers drunk Tom trying to speak Norwegian. And he falls in love all over again. Not really. He pulls out his phone nearly in tears and tapes video after video sending it to Tori so she too can share in this atrocity against their culture.
Tori immediately leaves to buy a bottle of Smirnoff and a “How to Learn Norwegian” book as she dials Tamara’s number.
After Tom brokenly asks him to “Suck his fuck” and Tord finishes wiping the tears from his eyes he tries to setting both himself and Tom down.
“Now Tom, can you tell me how you feel about me, in Norwegian,” Tord asks as he tries to keep Tom steady on the kitchen stool. Tom lists to one side and Tord gentle nudges him back in place.
“How I feel about you?” Tom asks slowly, lips continuing to move after he finishes talking as if feeling the words will help him understand more.
“Yes, in Norwegian though, can you do this for me?” Tord asks, as he pushes Tom gently back from leaning too far to the other side.
“Kay, but I am only going to say it in Norwegian so you can’t understand,” Tom says, and Tord thinks he’s trying to sound smug, but he is far too out of it for that to work in his favor.
“Alright, go ahead then,” Tord encourages and he feels his lips tug up as Tom squeezes his eyes shut hard as he tries to remember the right words.
“Jayg… uh… Elskede… dig.”
Tord finds his breath catch in his throat. He gets in a little closer to Tom and Tom blinks at him confused.
“Tom can you say that one more time?” Tord says, and it is much less a question and much more a plea. Quietly he presses the record button on his phone and slides it next to Tom. He doesn’t seem to notice. After a lengthy pause Tom speaks.
“Jeg Elskede dag,” Tom says, and he is much closer but still off this time. Not that it matters to Tord. He gets his phone presses the stop button and puts it into his pocket. He’s going to play those five seconds on repeat for the rest of his life.
He wraps his arms around Tom and hauls him off the stool ignoring protests as he drags the other man onto the couch, dropping him down before lowering himself on top of him. He scoots up and starts to gently kiss Tom’s neck and collar bone, not leaving a mark for once, just peppering little kisses as he whispers sweet words to Tom.
“Hey, I know that word,” Tom blurts after he whispers a soft little “Elskede”.
Tord pauses and smiles warmly up at Tom. “Oh yeah?”
Tom smiles fuzzily back, “Yeah, that’s your word for me, but only when you like me.”
“What? I always like you. Well, alright, I don’t always like you, but I do always love you,” Tord corrects.
Tom laughs, this soft little chuckle, and easy and without any tension or nervousness he say, “I love you too.”
Tord just kind of sits back stunned for a moment, looking at Tom as Tom looks back at him, calmly, contentedly, as if he hadn’t just turned Tord’s whole world upside down. Hearing it in butchered Norwegian was nice. Hearing it in clear English will mean more to Tord than he will ever adequately be able to put into words, no matter what the language.