Work Text:
It was a quiet day in the army base. Paul and Pat were on a mission, most likely on their way back by now, Matt was unwell today, and Tom was nowhere to be seen. It was a pleasant change to the chaotic atmosphere that usually blanketed the place. Tord was sitting at his desk, reading one of his concerning mangas, procrastinating paperwork again. That was until the door burst open.
“You asshole! What did you do!?” Tom was standing in the doorway, his eye visor flashing a bright red X on it, a full bottle of Smirnoff in his hand. Tord knew exactly what had happened. A small smirk spread across the leader's face as he put down his book.
“Ah, yeah, that. I installed an alcohol blocker into your visor. It shocks you anytime alcohol enters your system. Just helping you kick bad habits, you know? Can't have my subordinates engage in unhealthy activities, now, can I?”
“Oh, I'm not allowed to have alcohol, but you get those fancy cigars and dumb hentais? And you haven't stopped Paul from having a cigarette every five minutes!” Tom clenched his fist tighter around the bottle, audibly and visibly pissed off.
“I'm your boss, I can do what I want. And Paul isn't the most competent, it's useless to tell him to stop.” The sly grin grew on Tord’s face as he idly tapped his fingers against the desk.
“Fix it.” Tom demanded bluntly.
“I'll fix it tonight.”
“No, fix it now.”
“I'm busy, Thomas. I have paperwork to do.”
“Oh, can it, commie. We both know you've been procrastinating for ages.”
“You're very demanding, Jehovah witness. I'll fix it later.”
Tom scowled from beneath the visor, walking towards Tord’s desk, snatching up the manga and the lighter that were sitting on the desk, staring directly at the red leader. He held the book above the lighter, giving Tord a few seconds of reason. The man sitting at the desk winced at the sight.
“Tom… put it down…”
“Fix the fucking visor and then we talk, dickwad.”
Tord sighed, standing from his desk, maintaining eye contact with the other. “Come on. Just- put it down. Please.”
Tom smiled, placing the manga back on the desk, pocketing the lighter and following Tord.
>0<
Tom was sitting on an empty bench, silently watching tord work. His vision was slightly blurry without the visor, and he had a killer headache from where the wires actually connected to his head.
“You happy now, shithead?” Tord asked, not looking up from the task at hand, an annoyed tone lacing his voice.
“Yup.” There was a short beat of silence. “Your accent is thicker when you're pissed off.”
“What?”
“When you're pissed off or sad or something, your accent gets thicker. Like, worse English. How long is that gonna take? I have a date with a certain bottle, and it's bad etiquette to be late, y'know?"
Tord froze for a second before slowly beginning to work again. “Uh, yeah, it'll be done soon, just be patient.”
There was another moment of quiet.
“You pay too much attention to unnecessary things.”
“I just have to hear your stupid voice too often. Gets annoying.”
“First time I've ever heard you complain, Mr. British, fish and chips and un-oceaned tea.”
“Oh wow, so funny, Commie. Don't have to drag the Americans into this.”
“Whatever, fucking jehovahs witness.”
“Are there any other dumb things you've put into that thing that I needa know about?”
“That's for me to know and you to find out, Thomas~”
>0<
That night, Tom got very drunk. It was very chaotic, Paul threatened some new recruits with a baguette, Tom had gotten into Tord’s office, and some of his manga is now missing, and Patryck had to handle the morning hangovers, seeing as Tord had left on a mission that night, most likely to avoid the fiasco, leaving Pat in charge of the two hangover idiots.